Dear Sebastian, 

I’ve done it. I’ve made myself a small little enclave on one island here. Like really, do you want to stay in Malta to die there?

We went from Jerusalem, to Acre, to Rhodes and finally to Malta. It’s a losing battle. It has been ever since we lost Acre; Humphrey wouldn’t have wanted you to do something only so that you can die honorably. Perhaps an adventure away, somewhere else, would help? Enjoy what the world offers. Now, even a man like me can live and make himself a king. Why not you?

Sincerely, 

Amalfi

Amalfi, 

Your whole little pirate venture is going to fail—have some common sense when it happens; it will get you killed at least once you stop harassing their enemy and they realize that having a bunch of outlaws in the middle of their dominions is more trouble than they’re worth. Join me in the Amazonian forests. There’s a proper reason they named it this way.

Dionora

Dionora, 

My little venture is still profitable, too much to give it up. Perhaps if the winds ever turn against me, I will switch; besides, I’ve been here longer than you have. I have some gold to send to your convent, as a donation to the convent. 

Amalfi

Amalfi was sitting on his ship, one of his favourites. He was keeping watch during the night. He liked to drink his blood here, when all his men on alert were vampires—he also preferred to fight on.

They wouldn’t ever have to worry about sleepy crew on the job. He snatched plenty of them from the galleys, forced to row, and made by the empires that realised that an undead army that didn’t need to eat, would never get tired or ill, was better for their interests; a far worse punishment for the condemned than a galley rower’s often brutal but short life. It denied them salvation, and freedom was neither theirs.

Amalfi learned to treasure the time he had—the world always had too much to offer,.

Often when he was raiding one of the passing ships, and they went below deck, he would always find eventually, he had to restrain himself. Though, far more pirate ships these days boasted of having vampires in the crew—offering them membership and freedom from servitude.

Now, his crew counted around a nice sixty of them—slightly too big for the small ship, but half of them didn’t need to eat food. Most of them were men, but he had a few women to join him, most of them also pirates.

The waters were idyllic tonight, and he watched the night sky and stars; something that he learned to appreciate when he abandoned Acre for the life of an adventurer, and now a full-fledged buccaneer, or as he preferred to call himself, a pirate.

“Captain, there’s a ship I’ve spotted.” A seaman told him, running up to where he sat—they knew him as Jean, a vampire that joined him on his most recent capture of a French ship. “What does the flag look like? Tell me the pattern if you do not know.”

He knew all the flags: a cross, on white—that was Spanish; anything that had the fleur-de-lis was French. A red cross on white was English, while the Dutch often flew with a tricolour flag of red, white, and light blue.

“One of a cross, a red cross.”

He grinned; Spanish ships had gold and hence were the richest. Not that the others didn’t lack—he may have flown under the French flag, but now, he flew the black flag on his mast. He got up.

“Boys, we’re raiding them tonight.” He gave them all a grin. “Go down and get all the men awake and ready.”

He drew his own blade, preparing for the confrontation. Most often than not, they put up some resistance. While some captains were terrified of the voyage, they undertook—often hearing the terrifying stories taking place within the Caribbean. He genuinely preferred not having to spare a drop of blood; in the end, any attack cost money.

And the ability to keep his seat warm on his ship was if there was loot, and plenty of loot to go around. So far, he’s had dry spells here and there. This decade had been wondrous for him—with the Spanish occupied in wars everywhere, and having enemies interested in turning a blind eye to buccaneering. He had found himself far richer; his time as a pirate beforehand was just as much more lucrative. And with those decades of experience behind him, he dominated her far more.

Once he saw his twenty men—one of whom he had known for almost a century — they rammed and boarded the ship. He quickly eyed the sailors, figuring out who was the most high-ranking to take hostage. Ideally, the captain, but those were not common. Most of the ones here were grunting. And he was not recruiting, so they would not disturb the belowdecks tonight.

He simply took one of the oldest seamen. “Take me down and show me where your captain is? Don’t, and I think I found a good meal tonight.”

The man, having heard of the many, many stories regarding this ship and crew,; and, of course, of the vampires, which looted, paled, and agreed without a fuss. Amalfi, followed him with only three of his trusted men—the rest he expected to guard the ship.

He hoped he wouldn’t have met the troublesome ones—the ones who knew to stall for time, for they would perish in the sunlight. He had met them once, the only option being to have humans fight, and maintain control of the upper decks while they waited for the sun to fall again to escape.

The man knocked upon the door, and Amalfi opened, baring his own fangs. There was no need for blades when teeth were a good enough substitute. The man trembled at the sight of the teeth, and paled. This was good.

The captain’s eyes turned. “Just take all of our treasure, just don’t feed on me. You can take everything. I’ll blame it on a monster that I stumbled here.”

He didn’t care. “Very well then, go up and get a fraction of the men.”

Before he turned to him. “Get all of your deputies here and wait until my men consider everything. Relax, I’ll not touch or burn your food stores.”

A ship without loot would not be safe from mutiny, the captain valued his life more than his honour and command. It didn’t matter to him either way. He waited, as he sat, keeping an eye should they get any ideas to fight.

The captain said nothing, neither did anyone else. All lived in fear of accidentally triggering his hunger. Until his first mate, Henri, came right back.

“It’s done.” He said nothing to them and looked.

“Thank you very much for this transaction.” He gave them a toothy grin when it was all complete. They walked away, all holding trunks of loot to be taken back and split; he was not greedy, having accumulated a worthy fortune. After a while, thinking up where to whisk away the money when most of what he cared about was dead, made it difficult.

So he took what they accorded a poor seaman, with his human first mate taking more—he just married and had a child recently. Once they returned to their ship, finally at ease. Amalfi wanted to brief them on the upper deck, but with the sight of sunrise quickly coming. He knew the time better, better to be belowdecks and away from the sun.

He met his human first mate, William, having woke up to receive orders he was in charge until Amalfi returned. He leaned against the door. “So, anything?”

“They were too terrified, handed them over with no struggle.” He put his hands into his pockets, having had his many seamen take off with the gold. “We’re docking in Port Royal, so we can turn it over to the British for protection, and to trade it for something less conspicuous.”

The first mate nodded, knowing to give the orders. In the day, William was the one in charge, even if Amalfi could give his orders below deck. It would not take a larger part of the day. So he slept in a hammock until someone woke him up.

Upon reaching Port Royal, Jamaica, he disembarked off the ship at the dead of night, and headed for the nearest bar of his venture and to deal with his agents. There he got his correspondence, and he sent them there; they were also his financial agents.

Amalfi opened the door to the tavern, tipping his hat to the man, and this was where his agents were. He took a seat, directly opposite two men, and with three cups of beer. After taking in a hearty drink.

“Send in word for dyes, cotton, or even tobacco with the gold that I have gotten. And the rest, put it somewhere else. Also, I have intentions of giving a part of it back to a convent in Brazil.” He gave his orders.

“There is a letter for you.” The agent stiffly passed him, and he closed it. Enclosed was the seal of a Brother of the Knights Hospitaller. He stuffed it into his pocket, and after finishing a drink, and discussing all business, he walked back to his ship where he opened the letter within his cabin.

Brother Amalfi, 

I congratulate you on the success of your venture. I still must decline it. Malta is still Malta. They have never tried again since Lepanto failed, and now are more focused on land conquest in Hungary and Ukraine instead. 

I think I will remain here, in Malta, in the fortress. Perhaps one day they might come again and I shall be ready. 

Sebastian