So on February 24th, 1815, the lookout homie at Notre-Dame de la Garde was like "YOOO ship alert!".
The three-masted Pharaon was pulling up from Smyrna, Trieste, and Naples, and it was giving main character energy fr.
The pilot said "bet, I got this" and immediately went off to meet the ship, sliding around Château d'If like it was nothing, linking up with the vessel between Cape Morgion and Rion island.
The whole Fort Saint-Jean was packed with people watching. Ships coming into Marseilles always hit different, especially when it's the Pharaon that was literally built in their own Phocee docks. That's some hometown hero shit right there.
But yo, the vibes were OFF. The ship was moving sus as hell, slow and careful like when you're trying to sneak back into the house at 3am. The NPCs on the ramparts were getting those anxiety tingles, asking each other "bruh, the fuck happened out there?"
The sailing bros could tell the ship itself wasn't damaged though. She was being handled like a boss. But there was this young king, maybe 18-20, standing next to the pilot looking absolutely pressed. Dude had that main character aesthetic, tall, lean, dark hair hitting like a raven's wing, black eyes that could cut glass. This man was built for dangerous situations, you could just tell.
One anxious guy in the crowd couldn't even wait for the ship to dock properly. He said "fuck this, I'm going in" and jumped into a little boat to pull up on the Pharaon while she was rounding into La Réserve basin.
When hot young sailor boy spotted this dude approaching, he left his post and came to the ship's edge, hat off, being respectful and shit.
The boat guy was like "YO DANTÈS! What's good? Why you looking like someone just told you your favorite show got cancelled?"
"Bro, we're absolutely fucked, M. Morrel," the young man said, looking like he just got his heart ripped out. "Massive L for everyone, but especially me. We lost Captain Leclere near Civita Vecchia and I'm not okay."
"But what about the cargo tho?" the owner asked, immediately switching to business mode like a true capitalist king.
"Oh that's fine, M. Morrel, don't even stress about the bag. You're gonna be satisfied as hell with those profits. But Captain Leclere though-"
"What happened to my guy?" the owner asked, trying to look sad but honestly seeming pretty chill about it.
"He's dead, sir."
"Did he fall overboard or some shit?"
"Nah fam, brain fever got him. Went out in absolute agony." Then he turned to his crew and yelled "Yo get on that sail shit right now!"
The whole crew said "say less" and all eight or ten sailors absolutely sent it to their stations, spanker brails, topsail sheets, jib downhaul, the whole maritime aesthetic. Young captain boy made sure they weren't being lazy and then turned back to the owner.
"So like, how did this whole thing go down?" the owner asked, getting back to the tea.
"Bruh, it was so random. After Captain Leclere had some intense conversation with the harbor master in Naples, he left looking absolutely pressed. Within 24 hours, fever said 'it's your time bestie' and three days later he was gone. We did the whole burial thing, wrapped him up in his hammock with a 36-pound weight at his head and feet, dropped him off El Giglio island. We're bringing his sword and honor cross to his widow. Kinda fucked up though," he added with that sad smile, "my man fought the English for ten years just to die in bed like some basic NPC."
"Listen Edmond," the owner replied, looking more and more unbothered by the minute, "we're all gonna die eventually, and the old heads gotta step aside for the young kings. Otherwise nobody gets their glow-up, you feel me? And since you're telling me the cargo is-"
"Absolutely pristine, M. Morrel, I'm not even capping. I bet you could get 25,000 francs profit easy from this voyage."
As they passed the Round Tower, young boy started barking orders again: "Yo lower those topsails and jib! Brail up the spanker! Let's fucking go!"
The crew executed that shit with military precision, like they were on a Navy vessel or something.
"Let go and clue up!" At this command, all the sails dropped and the ship was basically just vibing forward at like 0.5 mph.
"Yo M. Morrel, if you wanna come aboard," Dantès said, seeing the owner was getting impatient as fuck, "there's your supercargo M. Danglars coming out of his cabin right now. He'll give you all the deets. I gotta go handle the anchoring and get this ship looking properly depressed for mourning."
The owner didn't need to be asked twice. He grabbed the rope Dantès threw him and climbed up the side of the ship like he was speedrunning a gym class rope climb. Meanwhile, young king Dantès dipped to do his job, leaving the conversation to Danglars who was walking over looking sus as hell.
Danglars was like 25-26, had major NPC energy with his mid face, was a total ass-kisser to anyone above him but treated subordinates like garbage. Plus he was the responsible agent on board, which automatically made all the sailors hate his guts. Meanwhile Edmond Dantès was literally beloved by everyone. The main character vs side character energy was strong.
"So M. Morrel," Danglars said, "you heard about our absolute disaster situation?"
"Yeah, yeah, poor Captain Leclere! That man was a real one. Brave and honest af."
"And an absolutely elite seaman too, had mad experience and served with honor, exactly what you'd expect from someone working for a house as important as Morrel & Son," Danglars replied, laying it on thick.
"But," the owner said, side-eyeing Dantès who was busy anchoring like a boss, "seems to me a sailor doesn't need to be ancient to know his shit, Danglars. Our boy Edmond clearly has it figured out and doesn't need anyone mansplaining sailing to him."
"Yeah," Danglars said, shooting Edmond a look that could literally murder someone. "Yeah, he's young, and young people think they're the MC of everything. The second the captain's body went cold, this dude just took command without asking anyone, and made us waste a day and a half at Elba instead of coming straight to Marseilles like we should have."
"Look, taking command was literally his job as captain's mate," Morrel replied. "As for the day and a half at Elba, that's only wrong if the ship didn't need repairs."
"The ship was in perfect condition. As good as I am, and hopefully as good as you are, M. Morrel. That day and a half was pure main character syndrome, he just wanted to go touch grass for his own entertainment and nothing else."
"Dantès!" the shipowner called out, turning to the young man, "get your ass over here!"
"One sec, sir," Dantès replied, "I'm coming!" Then he yelled to the crew, "Drop that anchor!"
The anchor hit the water instantly and the chain was making all kinds of noise rattling through the port-hole. Dantès stayed at his post even though the pilot was right there, because he's not about to half-ass this job, and then added, "Half-mast those colors and square the yards!"
"You see that shit?" Danglars said, sounding salty as hell. "This dude already thinks he's the captain, I swear to god."
"I mean, he basically is though," the owner said.
"Except you and your partner haven't signed off on it yet, M. Morrel."
"And why the fuck shouldn't he get it?" the owner asked. "Yeah he's young, but this kid clearly knows his shit and has the experience to back it up. Quite the guy."
Danglars stood there seething while Dantès commanded the ship like the absolute king he was born to be. The crew respected him, the owner was impressed, and honestly? This young man was about to get everything he deserved.
But we all know how these stories go - when someone's winning this hard, the universe is probably about to say 'hold my beer' and fuck shit up spectacularly.