The Art of Gossip #8

Doing my best to blend in with the routine of mopping the main deck, I slowly edged closer to a pair of pirates from the captain's faction, engaged in animated conversation, likely fueled by a few rounds of rum. Seven days had slipped by since the skirmish with the Marines, yet my daily routine had seen little alteration, save for the past couple of days.

Instead of our usual debriefing after our rounds, Old Barn had opted for a different approach, peppering me with questions to gauge my understanding of our observations.

To my chagrin—and his evident satisfaction—I seemed to have absorbed his teachings rather quickly, leading to my new role: not just an observer, but a rumor-monger. It was a convoluted task, but I just had to do as Old Barin taught me, which is simply waiting for the right moment to butt in on the conversation.

'Let's see what they're chatting about first,' I thought, straining my ears to catch snippets of their conversation.

"... but you know, I still can't believe how powerful that old quartermaster is," Pirate A exclaimed, his tone tinged with excitement. "He's way beyond his prime, but he took down almost as many Marines as the captain himself," he added, his expression a mix of admiration and frustration.

Pirate B chuckled at his friend's words. "Why are you surprised? You're only saying that because you don't know the kind of man Old Barn used to be in his youth," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Although I haven't witnessed it firsthand, an old-timer who sailed with us years ago, back when Old Barn was still young, shared some tales..." He paused, letting the intrigue build.

Pirate A leaned in eagerly. "What did he say?" he asked, his eyes shining with curiosity.

Pirate B grinned, relishing his friend's interest. "He painted Old Barn as a force of nature in his youth. Supposedly, even if you threw two of the captain and three of the first mate at him, they still won't fill the gap between Old Barn's teeth when he was younger..." he explained, his voice carrying a note of reverence.

"Rumor has it, Old Barn's been raiding and pillaging for so long, he gathered enough treasure to buy an entire city... though why he's still sailing with us instead of living a life of luxury on some island paradise remains a mystery," he concluded.

As the conversation unfolded, I listened intently, realizing this was the perfect opportunity to glean some insights. However, before I could even think of joining in, Pirate A turned to me, breaking the moment.

"What's your take on this, lad? We knew Old Barn for years, but none of us got to spend as much time with him as you did..." he asked, his gaze relaxed.

It was a golden chance, one I hadn't expected to come so easily.

Suppressing my excitement, I adopted a casual demeanor and began to respond, only to falter midway. "Old Barn certainly lives up to his reputation, but I think old age is finally catching up to--," I said, pausing halfway throw and putting on an expression that suggested I might have spoken too much.

"Actually, never mind that... and please excuse me, I just remembered that I've something to tend to..." I said, quickly turning around and walking away, my steps deliberately slow as I waited for the pirates to take the bait.

Just as I attempted to make my escape, Pirate A swiftly blocked my path, a sly grin spreading across his face, mirrored by his companion. "Hold on there, lad. What's the rush? Come, sit down and share more about what you just said," he urged, his tone dripping with faux friendliness.

Pirate B chimed in, his expression mirroring his friend's. "Absolutely, no need to fret. We'll assist you with whatever you need after our little chat," he offered, his words oozing with insincerity.

Internally, I was thrilled at how easily they took the bait, but I kept my composure, adopting a nervous expression. "I... I don't know. I doubt Old Barn would appreciate us gossiping about him," I stammered, hoping to dissuade them.

Pirate A flashed a smile that he likely believed exuded warmth, but the sight of his crooked, yellow teeth only repulsed me further. "Relax, mate. We're just having a chat, nothing more," he reassured, his words lacking sincerity. "A few harmless words won't ruffle Old Barn's feathers. Besides, what he doesn't know won't hurt him, or us," he added slyly, shooting a meaningful glance at his companion.

Understanding the unspoken message, Pirate B grabbed a bag filled with dried meat and offered it to me. "We snagged this from the marine ship. How about joining us for a bite?" he suggested. "I bet you're sick of the same old stale bread and soup," he added with a chuckle.

"Well, if you insist..." I reluctantly acquiesced, putting on a façade of reluctance as I accepted a handful of dried meat from Pirate B and began munching.

"I had to notice it, even if I didn't want to, you know?" I continued, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation. "Old Barn has been acting rather strange since the battle with the marines," I added, casually reaching for one of the pirates' rum bottles and taking a swig while feigning nonchalance, much to their irritation.

Despite my impolite behavior, the pirates remained silent, hanging onto my every word, eager for any information they could gather to relay to their captain. "Strange? In what way?" Pirate A asked, his curiosity now openly displayed.

"It's hard to articulate..." I began, adopting a pensive demeanor. "But I've noticed him frequently pacing near the storage room, muttering to himself," I continued, drawing their attention.

Pirate B, growing impatient, shot me a pointed glance. "What sort of muttering? Don't leave us in suspense," he prodded.

I shrugged, adding an air of mystery. "Various things... Sometimes he mumbles about the marines' uncanny ability to track our movements," I divulged, noting the widening of their eyes.

"Other times, he speaks of hearing the sea water splashing like someone keeps throwing things off the ship, or spotting empty rum bottles with parchments inside floating nearby as if they were cast into the water by one of us..." I explained, feigning incredulity. "Poor Old Barn... seems that old age starting to mess with his head," I concluded, shaking my head in mock sympathy.

The two pirates exchanged wary glances, their demeanor shifting to a more serious tone with each word I spoke. I could almost hear the gears turning in their heads—'There's a traitor among us!'—or so they were likely thinking right now, just as planned.

'Now, I just need to steer that suspicion toward the first mate's faction without making it too obvious...' I pondered, taking another sip of the pirate's rum while chewing on the dried meat.

However, before I could devise a strategy, Pirate A abruptly cut into my thoughts.

"What else did Old Barn mutter about? Did he happen to catch sight of the ones tossing those bottles?" he inquired, his expression deadly serious.

'Seriously...? This guy is practically doing my job for me, but being too eager could blow my cover...' I realized, swiftly composing my response. "What...? Are you seriously taking Old Barn's ramblings to heart? He's just getting old, you know?" I countered, feigning confusion.

Unimpressed, Pirate B unsheathed his knife, aiming it squarely at me. "Enough with the games, lad! Spill the rest or I'll rearrange your face with my knife," he threatened, his tone laced with menace.

Feigning panic, I raised my hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, I'll talk, just put that thing away..." I pleaded, my words falling on deaf ears as Pirate B maintained his aggressive stance, intensifying his glare.

"I... I didn't overhear Old Barn talking about the one throwing the bottles," I admitted, "but he did say something peculiar about how the captain's men suffered more casualties and injuries than the first mate's people, whatever that means..."

"Is that all you heard, lad? Be honest with me, or next time, it'll be me knife asking you!" Pirate B's voice held a sharp edge as he brought his blade closer to my neck.

"That's all, I swear..." I pleaded, feigning panic to match their intensity. "Please, don't hurt me, and don't breathe a word to Old Barn... He'll beat me to death if he finds out!" My voice trembled with fear, adding weight to my words.

The two pirates shared a knowing glance, and Pirate B reluctantly withdrew his knife. "Fine, we'll take your word for it," he relented. "But remember, lad, keep us informed if you hear anything else. Consider this dried meat and rum a token of our appreciation." He gestured towards the provisions.

Pirate A chimed in, his tone more conciliatory. "Indeed, lad. We'll look after you as long as you look after us. Keep your ears open, and you'll be rewarded."

With that, they turned to leave, signaling their departure towards the captain's quarters.

As they vanished from view, a sense of unease settled over me. 'Damn... this is getting heavy,' I thought, feeling the weight of deception pressing down on my conscience. The ease with which I deceived them only made the taste in my mouth that much more bitter.

'And what's with this sudden dizziness, like I'm about to collapse?' I pondered, my gaze drifting towards the bottle of rum in my hand. "Could it be that I can't handle this bit of drinking?" I murmured, my vision blurring as I sank to the deck, overwhelmed by my own deceit.

"Goddamn... this feeble body..." I muttered bitterly, darkness creeping in at the edges of my vision.

...

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