Captain Fury: Pirate of Berk

7: Obsessed

Obsessed

"HOW MANY?"

"Six ships attacked and sunk in the last three weeks, sir," Lars reported nervously. Magne Jorgensen was renowned for a short and very mean temper and a very long memory for slights and grudges. The stocky man balled his meaty fists and slammed them onto his dark wood desk, making objects jump and scatter with the impact.

"Where the Hel are the Navy?" he shouted. Lars backed up a pace: though he had twenty years on the younger Jorgensen son, he was afraid of his violent temper.

"The requests for escorts were hand-delivered to the Governor per your instructions!" he squeaked. "All requests though are only granted at the discretion of the Governor. I am sorry, sir. Maybe you should speak to him in person?"

"GET OUT!" Magne roared and hurled a paperweight at the man. Lars ducked and scurried away, pulling the door to and heading back to the clerks pool as fast as his legs would taken him. The younger Jorgensen glared at the door and slowly sank back into his seat, his mind hazed scarlet with rage. He had every right to expect full naval escort for all his vessels: the Governor was his uncle, for Thor's sake! Yet somehow, his request had been put aside...maybe lost or filed as unimportant? He rose. He would go in person and demand naval protection for the remaining ships: his brother was the Governor's Heir. They had to support him.

His coach carried him to the Governor's Offices in double quick time and he was conducted in rapidly. Governor Stoick looked up at his younger nephew and offered a thin smile, gesturing to a chair. He laid his quill down and frowned as he inspected the young man opposite him.

Stoick was a huge bear of a man, seven feet tall and broad as three men. His enormous bushy russet beard covered the upper half of his chest and his cool grey-green eyes were icy and analytical. He wore the Governor's uniform well, his thick waist straining against the wide leather belt. His huge hands rested before him and his thick fingers laced as he paid attention to his visitor. "How can I help you, Magne? he asked gruffly.

"I need Naval support for my fleet," his nephew said without preamble. "I requested before but clearly the request was lost because I have now lost my sixth ship in three weeks to that accursed pirate, Fury!" Stoick sighed. He had not become one of the most successful Governors in the history of the Province of Berk without being a shrewd judge of character. He knew the faults deep in his younger nephew, the cruel and venal character facing him. Snotlout wasn't ideal either but he was willing to work and had learned some valuable lessons along the way. And Stoick had to do what was best for Berk because he would be the last of his line: his son was gone and his nephew would take the island on his death.

"There was no error," Stoick said calmly. "The navy is not at your personal disposal, Magne. If you wish constant support, you need to make private arrangements." His nephew leapt to his feet.

"How can you say that?" he shouted. "My company brings thousands of kronor into the island! We are famed across the Archipelago! We deserve protection by the Navy!"

"And so does Berk," the Governor told him coldly. "The harbour, the other traders and personal craft all deserve protection also. There are other pirates and raiders as well as Fury."

"But he is targeting ME!" Magne shouted furiously. "Every time he sinks a ship, he sends me a message: I am sinking every Jorgensen ship until I have broken you. How the Hel am I supposed to deal with that?"

"Convoys," Stoick said coolly. "Either with your own ship or with other owners' vessels."

"But they may not fit my timetable!" Magne argued furiously.