Chapter 115: The Storm

:

Boom!

The blackened sky was a tempest of lightning and thunder, as if the gods themselves were unleashing their wrath.

In the flash of light, Hobber's face was lit, showing the fear and regret in his eyes—

How could they be hit by such a fierce storm? And then, seeing the shattered mast, Hobber froze in terror.

Smack!

A resounding slap sent Hobber sprawling onto the deck.

"If you weren't my brother, I'd be chopping off your head right now!"

Horas' voice boomed from behind him as Hobber scrambled to get up, dazed. "I… I didn't mean for this to happen…"

But hearing this only stoked Horas' fury. Grabbing his brother by the collar, he spat furiously in Hobber's face, "You clearly didn't think! Your brain's full of saltwater and peaches! For the sake of a woman, you've put all of us in danger!"

"I'd only heard that… that pirates near the Stepstones were weak and disorganized…"

Horas felt his hands shake, his frustration near breaking point. He took a deep breath, then shoved Hobber to the ground. "Get up and organize the soldiers. If any pirates show up, you're leading the charge!"

"Yes, I…" Hobber hung his head, not daring to argue. But his eyes still burned with resentment.

As Horas turned away, he suddenly noticed a shadow lurking nearby, watching them. He hadn't heard a sound.

Boom!

Another flash of lightning, and Horas saw who it was—Samwell Caesar!

Horas' heart nearly skipped a beat, but he forced a strained smile. "Samwell, it's you. Gave me quite the scare. How long have you been standing there?"

Samwell looked hard at both brothers, and gave a sharp smile. "Just arrived. What's going on?"

"Nothing, nothing," Horas forced a casual tone. "Just a little storm. We've handled plenty like it. Rest assured, the Arbor sailors know what they're doing."

"Good," Samwell nodded. "If there's anything I can do to help, don't hesitate to call on me."

"Of course. And, by the way, Lady Nathalie—is she well?"

"I was just about to check on her."

"Please convey the Redwyne family's apologies."

"I will."

Turning away, Samwell's smile instantly vanished, replaced by an unmistakable gleam of rage in his eyes.

Hobber Redwyne! Samwell knew he couldn't act rashly.

The second son of Lord Paxter Redwyne was no mere mountain wildling or riverlands vagrant he could deal with on a whim.

If he wanted Hobber dead without a hint of suspicion, he'd need to do it carefully—like Petyr "Littlefinger" Baelish, the master of intrigue. Samwell would have to build his own stage, with Hobber cast as the villain.

Knock, knock.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Samwell."

A pale-faced maid opened the door, almost stumbling as she moved to greet him.

Samwell steadied her with a hand, "How is Lady Nathalie?"

"She… she was just sick and has only now lain down…"

Inside the cabin, Nathalie lay on the bed, her hair disheveled.

"Sam…"

"You alright?" Samwell moved to her side, placing his hand on her forehead. She felt warm.

"I feel awful…" She clung to his arm and pressed her head to his chest, looking fragile and frightened.

The storm was making even someone as strong as Samwell feel faint, and poor Nathalie seemed completely overwhelmed.

"It'll be alright. The storm will pass soon."

"Sam, I don't want to go to King's Landing anymore… I don't even want to go back to Starfall… Can I come with you to Eagle's Nest?"

"Alright, alright, get some sleep now. When you wake up, everything will be fine." Samwell gently patted her back, comforting her as best he could.

Outside, thunder rumbled, wind howled, and rain pounded. Distant shouts floated through the storm, while inside, the dim lantern light cast a warm glow amidst the chaos.

...

After a long while, Samwell finally managed to coax Nathalie to sleep and left the cabin quietly.

Outside, the storm showed no signs of abating. If anything, it seemed even fiercer.

The downpour soaked through his clothes in moments, and the cold wind sent a chill down his spine. The violent rocking made him feel as though his stomach were clenched by an iron fist, and he had to fight down the urge to vomit.

Against the black night sky, another lightning flash suddenly illuminated a terrifying sight—

Among the turbulent waves were longships with triangular sails, bobbing and weaving atop the massive swells. At times, the waves threw them skyward, only for them to plunge back down with sprays of white foam. Other times, they were swallowed whole, before re-emerging soaked but undaunted.

The vessels moved like ghostly specters of the sea—no, more like demons risen from the depths.

"Pirates! Pirates!" A voice cried out in alarm.

It wasn't only Samwell who'd seen the ships lurking in the waters.

"Prepare for battle! Prepare for battle!" Horas' voice cut through the storm, only to be swallowed by another deafening crack of thunder.

Damn it! Samwell's face grew pale; this was far from his ideal battleground.

With the storm tossing the ship about, he could barely stay on his feet.

And his men—the ones he'd brought along from his own guard—were as unused to the wild waves as he was.

With pirates to fight, Samwell could only hope that the Arbor soldiers would live up to their reputation.

As another flash of lightning crackled through the sky, lasting three or four long seconds, the entire scene lit up like daylight.

In that eerie glow, Samwell could finally take in the scale of what they were facing.

He wished he hadn't.

Around the fleet were sixty or seventy longships, circling like wolves around their prey.

And among the pack, there was a clear leader—

A single-masted warship with a long, low, dark-red hull and sails black as midnight.

It was bold enough to keep its sails fully unfurled amidst the storm!

Propelled by the wind-filled sails, the warship surged forward like an arrow, closing the distance with alarming speed.

Its razor-sharp prow sliced through the waves, sending up plumes of spray, within which the carved figure of a black-iron maiden came into view.

She stood at the bow, one arm reaching outward, long black-iron hair trailing behind her. Her eyes, fashioned from bright white pearls, gleamed in the lightning's glare.

But she had no mouth.

At last, Samwell read the ship's name—

The Silence.

(End of Chapter)