[Current Balance: 11,416,923,998 R]
---Previously---
Just as Alaric was setting up the pieces for another round of Nine Men's Morris against a burly, one-eyed pirate from the Jacobite, a clear, confident female voice cut through the noise of the tavern.
"Think you can handle a real challenge, pretty boy? Or do you only play against drunken fools?"
---Now---
The tavern chatter quieted instantly. Every head turned towards the source of the voice. Leaning casually against the tavern keeper's counter, one arm resting nonchalantly on the sticky wood, the other holding a half-empty mug of ale, stood a woman who commanded attention without even trying.
Fiery red hair, the color of sunset over open water, was braided loosely over one shoulder, catching the flickering candlelight. Sharp, intelligent amber eyes scanned the room, missing nothing, a hint of cold amusement in their depths as they met the stares of the gawking pirates.
She wore a crisp, high-collared white blouse, the fabric hinting at quality, with intricate golden embroidery around the neck. Over it, a fitted black cloak hung open, its hem similarly embroidered with swirling patterns. A dark, tightly cinched corset-belt defined her waist, pulling the layers together into a silhouette that was both practical and undeniably striking. Dark leather trousers hugged her legs, tucked into sturdy, high-laced boots suitable for deck or dock. A well-worn pistol holster was strapped securely to her right thigh, and a single brass-plated knee guard gleamed just below the table line. Fingerless leather gloves completed the look.
"Ain't that..." a pirate near the door whispered.
"Damn... Caterina Sparrow herself..." another breathed, awe and fear mixing in his tone.
"Thought she was sailin' near Tortuga..."
Murmurs rippled through the tavern. Alaric looked the woman over, intrigued.
'Caterina Sparrow... Definitely wasn't in Black Flag,' he confirmed mentally, comparing her striking appearance to the game's character models. Anne Bonny had red hair, sure, but this woman carried herself with a different kind of authority, a sharper, more calculated edge beneath the casual pose. 'Interesting.'
Her lips curled into a smirk as her voice rang out again, clear and steady, dripping with challenge. "Nine Men's Morris. Best of three. Loser pays a thousand Reales."
The one-eyed pirate sitting opposite Alaric let out a low whistle, looking from the woman back to Alaric with a mixture of admiration and terror. "A thousand Reales... she's serious, mate."
Alaric simply raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the game board, then back up at the red-haired woman. A slow smile spread across his face.
"A thousand? Seems a bit low for such... esteemed company." He leaned back slightly. "Why not make it ten thousand?"
The woman's eyebrows shot up for just a fraction of a second, her smirk widening into a genuine grin. "Heh... ten? Getting bold, are we? Alright then, pretty boy, why not twenty thousand?"
"Fifty thousand," Alaric countered smoothly, leaning forward again. The one-eyed pirate quickly scrambled out of his seat, making way. "Unless you're worried about losing?"
"Worried?" The woman laughed, a rich, throaty sound that drew more attention. She pushed herself off the counter and strolled towards the table, her boots clicking confidently on the wooden floor. "Try one hundred thousand Reales, pretty boy. How about that? Don't chicken out now, aye?" She slid gracefully into the vacated seat opposite Alaric.
Edward, who had been watching the exchange with growing alarm, slammed his mug down. "Damn it, 'Laric, don't! You don't know who you're dealing with!"
"Aye!" Bramah chimed in, nodding vigorously, his drunken bravado momentarily forgotten. "Listen to yer cousin, lad! Playing against Caterina Sparrow for stakes like that... you'll regret it!"
Alaric glanced at them, genuinely curious now. "Why? What's the big deal?"
"Oh, come now, boys," Caterina purred, turning her amber gaze towards Edward and Bramah, her smirk laced with playful menace. "Surely he can't lose to a fragile little woman like me?"
Edward and Bramah visibly flinched, gritting their teeth but saying nothing more. The other pirates in the tavern looked equally intimidated. 'Interesting indeed,' Alaric thought. 'They're genuinely scared of her. Not just respecting her reputation, but actually afraid.'
"The name's Alaric," he said, turning his attention back to the woman, extending a hand across the game board. "And you?"
Her smirk didn't falter as she took his hand, her grip surprisingly firm. "Yata Anttonia Perla Sparrow," she replied, her voice smooth as silk. "But most call me Caterina."
Alaric held her gaze for a moment before shaking her hand firmly. 'Sparrow? Like Jack Sparrow? Any relation? Nah, probably just a common name out here... Still, doesn't ring any bells from the game lore.'
"Well then," he chuckled, releasing her hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Caterina. I'll take white, you can have black."
"I prefer Antonia, especially from handsome gentlemen," she corrected him with a smile, already deftly removing the game pieces from the board to reset it. "Let's begin, shall we? One hundred thousand Reales on the line."
The game started simply enough. Antonia played aggressively, placing her pieces quickly, aiming to establish early mills, three pieces in a row. Alaric countered calmly, blocking her initial attempts while setting up his own potential lines. He made a few moves that seemed slightly suboptimal, allowing Antonia to gain a slight positional advantage, drawing a confident smirk from her.
"Not bad, Kenway," she commented, placing a piece to block one of his potential mills. "But a bit predictable."
Alaric just smiled faintly, placing his next piece in a seemingly defensive position. 'She's good.'
They continued placing their nine pieces each. Antonia managed to form the first mill, removing one of Alaric's pieces from the board with a triumphant little flick of her finger. "One down," she purred.
Alaric simply placed his next piece, seemingly unconcerned. A few moves later, during the 'moving' phase of the game where they slid pieces along the lines, Alaric made a move that allowed Antonia to set up a double threat… two potential mills with her next move.
"Careless," Antonia chided, moving her piece to form another mill and removing another of Alaric's men. "That's two. This might be over sooner than I thought." Her confidence was palpable now and her amber eyes were gleaming.
Edward groaned from the sidelines. "Told ye not to play her, 'Laric..."
Alaric ignored them, studying the board. He appeared to be in a tough spot, several pieces down, his remaining men scattered defensively. Antonia leaned back, sipping her ale, clearly expecting his surrender soon.
But then Alaric moved. A simple slide of one white piece. It didn't immediately threaten anything. Antonia frowned slightly, puzzled by the passive move. She moved one of her pieces to further consolidate her position.
Alaric moved again. Another seemingly innocuous slide.
Antonia paused, studying the board more closely this time. Her smirk began to fade. That last move... it hadn't seemed like much, but combined with his previous placement... wait...
She moved her piece, blocking one potential line for Alaric, but as she did, she saw it. Alaric's seemingly random defensive placements had created a subtle, inescapable trap. No matter where she moved next, Alaric could form a mill. And worse, his pieces were positioned in such a way that opening one mill immediately set up another… a "running chuck," a devastating tactic in Nine Men's Morris.
Alaric smiled, a genuine, predatory smile this time. He slid his piece, forming his first mill. "My turn, I believe." He calmly reached over and removed one of Antonia's key blocking pieces.
Antonia's eyes narrowed, her knuckles became white where she gripped her ale mug. She made her forced move.
Alaric immediately slid another piece, opening the first mill but instantly forming a second one along a different line. He removed another of her pieces.
"How...?" Antonia breathed, her cool facade finally cracking, replaced by frustration and disbelief.
Alaric just kept smiling, moving his pieces back and forth between the two intersecting lines, forming a mill with every single turn, methodically plucking Antonia's pieces off the board one by one. Her defenses crumbled, her potential moves evaporated. The hunter had become the hunted.
The tavern had fallen silent again, the pirates watching the game with wide eyes as the legendary Caterina Sparrow was being systematically dismantled by the newcomer. Within a dozen moves, Antonia was left with only three pieces, unable to form a mill, while Alaric still had five. The game was effectively over.
Antonia stared at the board, then up at Alaric, her amber eyes blazing with fury and grudging respect. She slammed her mug down, splashing ale. "Fine! You win this round, Kenway!" she snapped, though her voice lacked its earlier confidence. "Best two out of three, remember?"
Alaric simply nodded, already resetting the pieces. "Indeed. Your move, Antonia."
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