The Mercurio cut through the waves with a gentle sway, her tattered sails catching the wind as if she, too, longed for the journey. The horizon glowed with dawn, streaks of orange and pink painting the edges of the sky. Argento leaned on the railing, metallic fingers glinting in the first sunlight like molten fire.
"Not too fast," Veyra called, balancing atop the deck. "I don't want to get seasick on our very first voyage!"
Argento chuckled, a low, rolling sound that matched the rhythm of the waves. "Geheheheh… don't worry, Vice-Captain. The Mercurio is steady. She's clever."
They sailed in near silence, broken only by creaking wood and distant gull cries. Argento kept one hand on the rudder, feeling the sea's subtle pulse beneath him. Veyra wandered among barrels and ropes, occasionally peeking into the cabin below. The sloop smelled of tar, salt, and old adventure.
"Geheheheh… you know, Vice-Captain," Argento said, tilting his head, grin sharp, "I wouldn't mind running into a few pirates along the way."
Veyra froze mid-step, one hand on a rope, the other gripping a half-eaten piece of bread. "Pirates? Real pirates? CICICICICI! Why?"
Argento's grin widened, silver fingers tapping thoughtfully. "Because pirates usually have… interesting ships. And interesting ships can be… borrowed." He leaned closer, voice a playful whisper. "Borrowed forever, of course. Geheheheh… permanently borrowed."
Veyra's eyes lit up. "Steal their ship?! Captain, CICICICICI, that's… brilliant!" She hopped onto the railing, balancing expertly. "We could take it, keep it… maybe even fight some pirates! I've always wanted that!"
Argento's laugh rolled across the deck, low and musical. "Exactly. But stealth first, battle second. We can't rush blindly. We need strategy… and maybe a little chaos."
"Chaos is my middle name! Well… not really, but it should be!" Veyra shouted, bouncing on her heels.
"Patience," Argento said, tapping the map rolled out on the deck. "Pirates don't always announce themselves. But when we find one… geheheheh… the Mercurio will sing, the sea will roar, and the world will notice."
Veyra spun in a circle, letting the wind whip her hair. "I can't wait, Captain! CICICICICI! Imagine the stories we'll have!"
Argento's gaze softened briefly as he watched her, sunlight glinting off his silver arm like molten metal. Then, with a flick and grin that promised trouble, he straightened.
"But first," he said sharply, "we dock at that little port. Supplies, rumors… maybe a hint of our first target. If luck's on our side, the sea itself will point the way."
"Geheheheh… one problem, Vice-Captain," he added, tapping his chin. "If we borrow a ship from pirates, it won't have our flag."
Veyra tilted her head. "Our flag? CICICICICI… why? We're pirates! The sea's ours!"
Argento shook his head, silver catching the light. "Being pirates isn't just taking ships or treasure. It's about being remembered. A flag tells the world who we are. Without it… the ship is just a ship, and we're just shadows."
Veyra chewed her finger thoughtfully. "So… if we steal a ship and someone sees it, they might think it's some random crew… or a navy trick?"
"Exactly," Argento said, grin returning sharp as a knife. "The Mercurio is ours. She carries our story, our name, our style. If we take another ship without a flag… it's like starting over. Geheheheh… and I don't want to start over."
His eyes gleamed. "The perfect ship is fast, strong, unmistakably ours. And if it's a pirate ship already… even better. First, we observe. Plan. Then…" His grin widened dangerously. "…we make it ours. Flag flying, unmistakable."
Veyra let out a gleeful laugh. "CICICICICI! We'll take their ship, make it ours, and the whole sea will know the Mercurial Pirates are coming!"
The Mercurio was a battered sloop, fragile but alive. Its hull, streaked with silver scratches that caught the sun like quicksilver, leaned slightly to starboard. Tattered sails flapped like restless wings, barrels and crates haphazard across the narrow deck. Yet Argento and Veyra saw potential: speed, cunning, freedom.
To mark her as theirs, they designed a flag: a deep midnight-blue pennant, triangular, emblazoned with a silver crescent moon split by a jagged lightning streak. Hoisted high, even this fragile sloop would become a bold symbol of speed, cunning, and freedom—a warning to all who dared underestimate them on the open sea.