Albrecht walked into the room with a wary look on his face. The stories his grandfather told were tall tales, but they had a profound influence on the man. In addition to their overall rowdy behavior, pirates were brigands who had a penchant for taking everything that wasn't nailed to the floor, and killing witnesses. Albrecht almost spat in their direction. He even contemplated insulting their mothers for raising such curs. Yet he didn't; that would undoubtedly put his employer in a bad light for letting a member of the crew be beaten to a bloody pulp. Albrecht's gaze shifted to his employer. [i]The Moor...[/i] Albrecht thought with a perplexed frown. He had been told repeatedly by the Spanish that all of his ilk were all but rotted to the core. Yet Amir seemed none of these things to Albrecht. He had appeared much kinder than the stories the members of his former ship had let on. Were all Moors this kind?

Albrecht's thoughts wandered back to the former ship. "Rata Alemán," the sailors had called him - German rat. Albrecht was unused to such language, but soon enough took on the name himself to show them that he wasn't soft. Over time he had made friends. Friends whom he promised to write. Yet he never seemed to have the time to write; there was always something to do, or an anxiety-ridden dream, the callings of his former home in the old world. He wouldn't admit it, but he missed home. He missed the stories of the farmers, his grandparents, and even his father. The father that had given him so little, had shown him little love, he pined for. Albrecht focused on David for a moment; a peculiar first mate to him, but he would follow orders as a good sailor always did. He nodded firmly. He had a promise to fulfill. One that he would fulfill one small task at a time. Return home either rich, famous, or dead.