The sound of boots slamming against polished wood snapped me out of my thoughts, pulling my eyes away from the endless horizon. The sea shimmered in gold under the setting sun, each ripple catching the light like scattered coins. It was peaceful. Too peaceful.
Ace came barreling down the staircase from the upper deck like a kid on too much sugar, his freckled face split by a wild grin.
"Lazarus!" he hollered, skidding to a stop beside me. "You didn't tell me you had a goddamn floating palace!"
I chuckled despite myself. His excitement was contagious — not that I'd ever admit it.
He spun around, arms out wide like he could somehow embrace the entire ship. "This thing's insane! There's a bath down there bigger than our whole old ship! A ballroom too, I swear!"
"You found the ballroom already?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Hell yeah I did!" Ace cackled. "Could throw a hell of a party in there."
Deuce followed after him, calm as ever, though the impressed glint in his eyes gave him away. The ship gleamed under the waning sun — towering masts, crisp white sails, a deck polished so clean it practically shone. No creaks. No rough edges. It was too perfect.
Deuce crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. "I'm surprised you managed to get your hands on something like this," he muttered. "Where the hell did you steal a ship like this?"
I smirked. "Didn't steal it. It was a gift. From a… former king."
Ace perked up like a hawk spotting prey. "A king? What kinda king just hands over a ship like this?"
I grinned, the memory as clear as blood in water. "Not just any king. Bekori — king of a backwater island. Or… he was a king. I killed him."
Ace blinked. "Wait. What?"
"You heard me," I said, leaning against the railing. "His people hated him. Taxed them to death. Worked them like dogs. When I got there, the whole island was one spark away from revolt. I lit the match."
Deuce raised an eyebrow. "You led a rebellion?"
I shrugged. "Sort of. Gave them the push they needed. Burned his palace down, ran him through in front of his own men. Bastard never saw it coming."
Ace let out a low whistle, both impressed and a little surprised. "Damn… didn't know you had that in you."
"I don't talk about it much," I said, my voice quieter now. "But after that, the ship passed through a few hands, ended up with Bulldog. And after I did some work for him — clearing out a few nastier types on his turf — he passed it to me as thanks."
Deuce gave a slow, measured nod. "Must've been one hell of a favor."
I smiled faintly. "It was. But it was worth it."
Ace let out a low whistle, his gaze tracing the tall mast up to the crow's nest.
"Damn… this thing's gotta be worth over a billion berri easy," he said, eyes gleaming like a kid staring at treasure.
"At least," Deuce agreed. "Too luxurious for a rookie crew, though."
I shrugged, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. "Not for long."
A nearby table caught my eye — white cloth laid out, brushes, paints, charcoal, and parchment scattered across it. Perfect.
"I was thinking," I said, drawing their attention, "this ship's missing something. A flag. A jolly roger that'll make people remember us."
Ace's face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. "Hell yeah! I've been waiting for this! And I already got it — our crew name's gonna be the Fireflame Pirates!"
Deuce winced like someone scraped glass with a knife.
"Fireflame? Seriously?" Deuce said.
"Yeah! Fire's my thing!" Ace grinned.
"It's a little… redundant," Deuce muttered, shaking his head. "Should mean something personal to us. Not just fire for the sake of it."
Ace frowned, crossing his arms. "Alright, genius. What's your idea then?"
Deuce smirked. "How about… Spade Pirates?"
Ace blinked. "Spade Pirates?"
"You're Ace — the Ace of Spades. It fits. Strong name. Stands out."
I had to admit — it had a ring to it.
"I like it," Ace grinned.
"Me too," I laughed. "Spade Pirates it is."
Ace clapped Deuce on the back. "Not bad, bookworm."
"Glad you approve," Deuce sighed.
"And this ship," I added, gazing out at the darkening horizon, "should be called Piece of Spadille."
Deuce arched a brow. "Spadille?"
"Old card term. The Ace of Spades. Keeps with the theme."
Ace grinned. "Hell yeah. That's badass."
Deuce gave a rare approving nod. "I'll admit — it works."
"Alright then," I said, grabbing a brush and tossing the others to Ace and Deuce. "Let's paint our flag."
We gathered around the table as the sky turned orange and red, the sun sinking lower by the minute. For the next hour, we sketched it out — a grinning skull and crossbones, Ace's signature hat perched on top. Two smileys: one grinning, one frowning. Flames curling from the hat's crown. A bold spade behind the skull. And beneath it, in clean sharp strokes: SPADE.
Ace stared at it, proud as hell. "Now that's a flag."
"Not bad for a bunch of pirates with no art skills," Deuce muttered, smirking despite himself.
We hoisted it high, raising the flag up to the mast's peak. It caught the wind and snapped to life, the jolly roger grinning down at us, bold against the evening sky.
"There," I said, watching it wave. "Piece of Spadille has her soul."
"The Spade Pirates set sail!" Ace whooped.
But even with the flag up, something gnawed at me. The ship was too polished. Too royal. Too clean.
Ace frowned, sensing it too. "You know… this thing's too damn fancy. No one's gonna believe we're pirates on this thing."
I smirked. "Needs some attitude."
Deuce crossed his arms. "Agreed. Let's rough it up."
And so, we did.
Ace scorched patterns into the rails with his flames — dark, curling marks like black tattoos. I added iron fittings, bolted spiked reinforcements along the bow, and hung rusted chains from the sides. Deuce stripped away the old noble carvings, replacing them with jagged planks, weathered wood, and sinister lanterns — the kind that would burn blood-red after nightfall.
The masterpiece though, was the figurehead. We tore down the royal emblem and replaced it with a massive horse skull, its bleached surface twisted with flame-shaped carvings. Heavy chains hung from its jaw, clinking with the ship's sway.
Ace grinned when it was done. "Now that's a pirate ship."
"Fits the Spade Pirates perfectly," I agreed.
Deuce gave a rare smirk. "Intimidating. Unique."
We dyed the foremost sail deep black, painted our jolly roger on it — the grinning skull, flaming hat, spade, and SPADE beneath it. The rear sail bore one word in bold crimson: SPADE, with our flag snapping proud above.
By the time the sun slipped below the horizon, the Piece of Spadille looked like a predator. It still carried the bones of a noble ship, but now it had fangs.
I stood at the helm, watching dusk settle over the darkening water.
"Damn right," Ace said beside me. "Now we're ready."
I nodded, wind tugging at our sails. "From now on — the seas belong to the Spade Pirates."
And with our flag snapping in the night wind, our new name painted on every sail, and a ship worthy of the legends we'd carve, we sailed out of port — our story just beginning beneath a blood-red dusk.