Howl's Twisted Castle

27: The Pirate Wizard

I can proudly boast that I am well read. Anything that helps spark my creative mind is worth my devotion to reading it, so naturally, stories became my muse. I wouldn't say that I read all manner of books, in fact, historical books gave me little pleasure. But fiction, the fantastical sort of stories that allowed me to disappear into a world so very different from my own for hours at a time, well, that was where my creativity made a home. I'd read stories of characters who lived in caves in desolate mountains, in treetops high above the ground, or on islands beneath the canopy of palm trees. 

But never could I have imagined a location quite like this. 

To say this place was magnificent wouldn't scratch the surface of my admiration for its structure. Whoever lived here dedicated a great deal of time modifying this ship into a home, if a home was even the right word for it, because it felt like so much more than just a place to live.

The entire interior was gutted so that all that remained was an enormously open room, not unlike a hall in a castle. My footsteps echoed on the wood plank floor, magnifying the immensity of the place. What was once the hull of the ship, now made up the walls and ceiling of this place.

Even if this ship could be righted, it would never be seaworthy again; several planks in the ceiling had been ripped away at some point in its life, possibly from normal weathering, but the open spaces had been craftily fitted with custom stain glass skylights. The effect of the sunlight cascading through the blue, red, yellow and green stained glass was rather pretty inside the old vessel.

All across the back wall, from one end of the ship to the other, were shelves upon shelves filled to the brim with books that would have put any library to shame. Three massive tables occupied the center of the hall, covered in all manner of things; books, herbs, food and the lot. 

There was a single closed off area at the bow of the ship that I could only assume was the pirates private quarters, but apart from that, the ship served as a huge library.

Colin waved me farewell and closed the door behind him, leaving me alone to greet this so-called pirate Davies on my own. As I walked past the endless shelves of tomes, I couldn't help but wonder how one person could amass such a collection. As I reached for a book labelled Ingary in the 13th Century, someone stopped me. 

"Can I help you?" the man asked, blocking the book from my reach. His voice had a soft tone, but it filled the room with a commanding presence. 

As I looked him over, I noticed that, although he had soft features and an even warmer smile, he looked nothing like a pirate. He was slightly shorter than I and built very much like Colin. He wore a brown three-piece suit fitted with a monocle in his breast pocket, not at all the scimitars and tattered clothes I had envisioned. In fact, I found his attire somewhat dull in appearance; it lacked the bright colours that the other townsfolk displayed in their jackets and dresses. He wasn't even wearing a brooch for that matter.

Perhaps that's what Maggie meant by him being a little different? 

He eyes shared the same brown hue as my own and he wore his soft mousy brown hair slicked back behind his ear, giving him a smart appearance. Certainly not a pirate. Still though, something about him felt . . . familiar.

"Are you. . . the pirate Davies?" I said slowly, blushing when I realized how idiotic I sounded. 

What exactly was I expecting anyway? A peg-legged ruffian with an eye patch? 

He displayed his brilliant white teeth in a grin, stifling his laughter with a polite cough. 

"Is that what the locals call me nowadays?" the man mused.