Chapter 30: [30] I’m Gonna Be…
The square fell into absolute silence. Not the respectful quiet of an attentive crowd, but the breathless hush that follows a lightning strike.
Pierre stood in the middle of the cobblestones, his red hair catching the morning sunlight like flames. Every head turned toward him—sailors gripping their rifles tighter, civilians shrinking back, officers on the platform freezing mid-motion.
A young sailor on the stage raised a trembling finger, his voice cracking with shock and recognition.
"It’s him! The Red-Haired Menace!"
The words hit the crowd hard. Mothers pulled their children closer. Men who had been standing straight suddenly found reasons to study their shoes. The Navy personnel snapped to attention.
Pierre watched the color drain from Captain Hardy’s face, only to be replaced by a blotchy, rising crimson.
"You," Hardy breathed into the speaking horn, his voice barely controlled. "YOU!"
Pierre walked. One step. Then another. He stopped at the base of the platform, tilting his head back to meet Hardy’s murderous glare.
Hardy’s hand scrambled at his hip, tearing the flintlock free. His fingers, slick with sweat and shaking with fury, fumbled at the grip, nearly dropping the weapon.
"The terrorist who disrespected me!" Hardy screamed, his voice cracking on the high notes. "You dare show your face here? Desecrate this sacred ceremony with your presence?"
The pistol’s barrel wavered as Hardy aimed it down at Pierre. Sweat beaded on the captain’s forehead despite the morning chill.
"Men like you are chaos! Civilization is a garden, and weeds like you must be pulled out by the root!"