200 words. A fourth wall breaking tale of history vs historical fiction
The admiral strode onto the deck where the men were fighting with swords and fists, and smoke from the earlier cannon fire and muskets still filled the air.
“We meet again at last,” said the protagonist. He’d been waiting sixteen chapters for this showdown.
The admiral smirked and drew his weapon, cold steel to match his cold demeanour. “Indeed.”
They exchanged blows. The admiral had, canonically and historically, been trained in sword fighting since he was nine years old. The protagonist had only spent chapter nine learning these moves but as the POV character had plot on his side and this battle was the pinnacle of his story arc, his quest for justice or at least revenge.
The tide turned, at least on board the vessel, if not the choppy waves below. The protagonist’s men were winning. The sun appeared from behind the clouds, symbolic of his impending victory.
The protagonist disarmed the weary admiral, held his blade against the man’s throat, a reversal of their first meeting.
“You can’t kill me,” the admiral gloated. “History doesn’t lie! I die years from here, in a duel.”
The protagonist laughed. “This isn’t a documentary,” he said, and slit the man’s throat.