Chapter 45
Myranda stood at the head of the ship, gripping the bow tightly, her gaze fixed on the dense, impenetrable gray of the fog that enveloped the ship like a soft but forbidding shroud. The light wind played with the strands of her long red hair, which hung loosely in an elegant plait, held together only by a simple but fine leather band. The air was damp, almost heavy, soaked with a salty breeze that rose from the sea and wetted her skin like tiny droplets.
She wore a dark green robe of fine wool that perfectly suited her slender but busty figure. The fabric was firm enough to protect her from the cold of the early morning, but light enough to hug her body and not hinder her movements. A leather belt with silver buckles cinched around her waist, keeping the garment in shape, while a black cloak of heavy wool fell over her shoulders, protecting her from the damp chill of the fog.
Her boots, sturdy and made for long journeys, stood firmly on the wooden planks of the deck, which creaked softly with every step. Under her dress she wore a simple but finely crafted tunic, the sleeves of which she had pulled down to her wrists to keep her hands warm.
As she stood there, she could feel the soft vibration of the ship beneath her feet, caused by the steady, powerful strokes of the oars. The smell of wet wood and fresh, salty air filled her senses, accompanied by the soft screeching of seagulls circling somewhere in the fog above them.
But it was the fog that dominated the scenery. It was so thick that she could barely make out the top of the mast above her, let alone the sea that carried the ship. Only the steady beat of the waves against the hull revealed that they were still on the water.
She knew she was in the waters of the Stepstones, the dangerous archipelago of islands that separated the Summer Sea from the Narrow Sea.
This strait was notorious for its treacherous currents and the pirates who hid in the countless hidden coves and islands of the Stepstones.
Myranda pulled her cloak tighter around her as a cool breeze came up from the sea, sending goose bumps down her bare arms. She felt the light pressure of the dagger on her hip, a reassuring feeling that gave her security.
It had been years since Kaelarys had freed her from her miserable life of loneliness, where her body was all she had and all she was worth.
Having spent most of her life as a receptacle for the desires of men, she had resigned herself to enduring further assaults for the remainder of her days. But then he arrived, her liberator.
Of course, he still wanted to have sex with her, but since she had spent that night with a certain captain she knew and liked only too well, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. On the plus side, he also knew what he was doing.
When he had freed her from her chains and given her a new life, she had sworn to serve him until death and to do everything for him without questioning him.
When he visited her less often because of his engagement to his sister and cousin, which she still found strange but didn't condemn, she was jealous, she couldn't deny it.
But that was just her womanly nature coming out, her mind knew she would still serve him with the same devotion as always.
But she wanted to be more to Kaelarys than a mere support in his quiet moments or someone with whom he could satisfy his lust. Although she always enjoyed doing that, she felt she could do more for him.
Her desire burned deep within her and would not let go, and when she first voiced it, she had only a fleeting spark of hope that he would take her seriously.
But Kaelarys was more than willing to grant her wish. With a smile, he promised to give her the best teachers so that she would learn everything from trade to administration.
She learned to plan complicated trade routes, negotiate the best prices and keep financial records.
Her teachers taught her how to maximize profits and minimize risks, how to manage resources in times of need and invest wisely in times of abundance.
Alongside these practical skills, she was also initiated into the more subtle arts of diplomacy - how to use words as currency and say a thousand things with very few words.
Combined with her feminine charm, these were powerful weapons to wield if she handled them properly.
Now she was on her way to Tyrosh to apply her knowledge, or rather to watch and learn.
Their ship was flanked by four sturdy escort vessels that moved through the gray sea like silent sentinels. Every crest they broke made a roar that echoed through the fog.
On the main ship Myranda was traveling on were the Warborn - creatures that sent a chill of fear through the bones of even the bravest sailors.
The Warborn were no ordinary soldiers. They were the result of Kaelarys' dark experiments and his unbridled curiosity for the unknown.
Myranda couldn't help but shudder as she watched the Warborn. Their presence was unsettling, not only because of their fearsome appearance, but also because they remained completely silent.
Not a word was exchanged, not a gesture made that was not directly related to their service. It was as if they were more statues than people, and that made them even more sinister.
Yet despite the fear they inspired in her, Myranda knew she could trust Kaelarys. He had given her the Warborn for her protection, and that alone meant that he wanted her to be as safe as possible.
Kaelarys was not one to leave anything to chance, and if he had placed these creatures at her side, there had to be a good reason for it.
The wind blew stronger and the cold began to seep through her clothes. The fog settled heavily on the sails as the ship steadily made its way through the waters of the Stepstones. Myranda continued to stand at the bow, her eyes fixed on the horizon, when she heard soft footsteps behind her.
"Pardon me, lady," said a gruff voice. Myranda turned and saw the captain of the ship coming towards her. He was a bearded man with weather-beaten skin, his eyes sharp and full of experience. "The night is getting colder, and the wind is blowing hard out here. Perhaps you would like to retreat inside to keep warm?"
Myranda shook her head slightly, a faint smile on her lips. "I'm not a lady, Captain," she replied softly as she turned her gaze to the dark sea.
The captain laughed softly and shook his head. "Well, lady or not, anyone with enough authority to kill me without consequence is either a lord or a lady to me." His eyes twinkled slightly at that, and he pulled his cloak tighter around him.
Myranda returned the smile. "Kaelarys sent me to handle important business, that's all. I am neither a noblewoman nor a ruler."
"Perhaps," the captain replied, shrugging his shoulders, "but in my experience, it's not the title that determines who has power. And you, lady, have power - whether you accept it or not."
Myranda opened her mouth to answer the captain when her gaze suddenly wandered into the distance. Something she couldn't immediately identify caught her attention. Her brow furrowed and she asked quietly, "Captain, do you see that up ahead?"
The captain turned in the direction she was looking, his eyes narrowed to see better. But before he could notice anything or give an answer, Myranda saw the Warborn on deck move jerkily.
They reached for their swords, blades drawn quietly from their scabbards as they moved into a battle-ready formation.
Myranda turned her gaze back to the front, her heart beating faster in her chest. The captain's eyes narrowed as he finally realized what was approaching them, cursing softly under his breath. "Pirates," he said in a voice that quivered with tension.
The captain turned hastily to Myranda, his voice sharp, "Lady Myranda, you must go to the inner cabins at once. Now!"
The stern expression in his eyes left no room for argument.
Myranda felt a wave of fear wash over her, her heartbeat quickened, and without a word of resistance she obeyed his command. With trembling hands, she gathered her skirts and hurried to the door that led to the safety of the cabins, while behind her the sounds of the Warborn preparing and the rumble of approaching disaster grew louder.
Myranda closed the heavy wooden door behind her, the muffled creaking echoing in the narrow corridor. With trembling hands, she pushed the latch forward, feeling the cold metal under her fingers and hoping it was strong enough.
She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling uneasily, before she hurriedly walked through the narrow corridor to the inner cabin. Her heart pounded like a drumbeat in her chest as she entered the small, darkened chamber.
Once inside the cabin, she discovered a small peephole that was probably once meant to enjoy the view of the sea.
But at that moment, it promised to give her a glimpse of what was happening outside. She carefully stepped closer, pressed her face against the wood and peered through the tiny hole.
Then, in the distance, she recognized the dark, sinister outlines of pirate ships breaking through the fog. Their sails were black, their hulls sleek and fast, built for a swift attack.
Myranda's breath caught as she realized that there were dozens of ships.
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First of all, this is the chapter for tomorrow, but I don't know if I can post tomorrow, so here it is.
Thought it was necessary to mention Myranda before people ask about her. She has been a big part of the story so far and it would be a shame to just throw it all away.
Also, for those who are familiar with it, would it be smart to save all the chapters somewhere else too in case webnovel does crazy stuff? Yes, right?
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Yours,
Jasonenrick!