BountyOfTheSeas/Session19
BEGIN CHAPTER 19
The Hearty Loaf is a rapidly-dwindling blemish on the seas.
Callidora and Hidden Victory had cheerily waved their goodbyes as the Brilliance and the Emancipation sailed away into the late-afternoon sun.
Zeleny watches it, and hopes he will not live to regret setting the ship loose.
Irisa says, "A wise move, Captain. Especially in light of the Guild's smear campaign: that is one ship's crew who will at least refute the rumors of your incompetence."
Verdant waves to his mentor as the ships part ways.
Pyhrra has been quiet since the confrontation with the Fae; she has retreated to her bunk without speaking to the others.
Zeleny's eyes follow Pyhrra as she goes below. "I wonder what he told her."
Verdant glances after Pyhrra, but focuses on the captain. "I suspect we'll find out in due time. Either that or she'll bolt off again."
Irisa sniffs. "Perhaps we should keep a close eye on her next time we make port."
Zeleny says, "We cannot keep her chained to a bulkhead. If she wishes to leave, she will." His voice is unusually curt, and looks down at his hands, where he rests them atop the railing.
Irisa says, "I suppose. And she does seem to have some... unusual... acquaintances."
Zeleny says, "Does she?"
Irisa says, "How many women do you know who keep company with Fae, Captain?"
Zeleny says, "None. She did not seem to recognize him."
Verdant says, "Correct me if I am wrong, but while that...creature..." Verdant says, snarling in contempt, "acted familar with Pyhrra, she did not act like she had met it before."
Irisa starts. She glares at a few of the ex-pirates standing nearby, who busily resume their chores. "I was apparently misinformed."
(...since Irisa wasn't on the Loaf when the fighting was actually going down.)
Irisa says, "Certain parties made it out to seem that our Lady Pyhrra was... quite familiar with the Fae-creature."
Zeleny says, "Certain parties seem to enjoy gossip," Zeleny replies dryly, but with a glance at his crew that bodes trouble for them.
The crewmen try to supress their snickering, which cuts off quickly at their Captain's reproving glare.
Irisa rolls her eyes. "Regardless... shall we retire to plan our next move? Away from listening ears?"
Verdant says, "And wagging tongues."
Zeleny says, "Yes, that would be wise."
And they gather in the stateroom. Which has become to seem depressingly familiar.
Irisa says, "This stateroom has become depressingly familiar of late. Perhaps we should spend some of our newfound wealth to renovate."
Zeleny says, "So it has." He pulls a massive seachart onto a table, and glances vaguely up at the worn walls. "Why?"
Verdant says, "That, I think, depends greatly on how much we have available."
She runs a finger along the slightly-tacky gold trim on the walls. "I believe it needs a... 'woman's touch.'"
Zeleny says, "You're already touching it," Zeleny points out.
Irisa shoots him a dry look. "Or, look at it this way: should we really condescend to plan the future of Seaspray in a room that even third-rate merchants wouldn't tolerate?"
Zeleny says, "Why not?"
Verdant says, "Are we really so self-important as to have to redecorate a room before we *deign* to use it?"
The half-nymph drops her delicate hands in defeat. "Never mind. If I can budget for it, however, I reserve the right to redecorate this room. And Solars' quarters."
Verdant says, "What's the matter with our quarters?"
Zeleny says, "They're really quite typical," Zeleny adds. "And we have to store extra sailcloth somewhere."
Irisa fixes the two men with a level gaze. "If we are to reclaim past glories, we ought play the part. The men have great respect for both of you, but there is a limit to the respect one can afford a man who sleeps in a dingy hammock."
Zeleny says, "They sleep in dingy hammocks."
Irisa says, "Just think if we were to attempt to entertain important dignitaries in this room!" She gestures at the peeling paint and the heavily-worn desk. "No one would take us seriously!"
Verdant sighs. "All right, just promise me the redecorating will put a lock or a latch on the door. At least then I won't have to keep shoving that crate around."
Irisa says to Verdant, "Done."
She turns to Zeleny. "Yes, but they expect their -leader- to -lead-, both in battle and in lifestyle."
Irisa says, "Mark my words, Captain: you -will- be sleeping in a feather-bed by the time this year is ended."
Zeleny looks skeptical, but since she didn't seem willing to let it go, he spreads his hands in acquiseance. "I don't think there's room for a featherbed," he reminds her. "The sailcloth."
Irisa smiles - not her usual diplomatic smile, a genuine grin. "Leave the sailcloth to me, Captain. I am the de facto quartermaster, after all." She taps the maps. "But on to more important things."
Zeleny runs his fingers along the map, smoothing the edges. "Our requirements are: It must be a fairly large city. It must be either an independent city-state, or a capital. It must be an important hub of the slave trade, but not wholly dependent upon it or the Guild."
Verdant nods. "I'd like to point out that it is, ironically, in our best interest to leave it 'Anathema-unfriendly'."
Zeleny says, "A strong Immaculate presence would not be a disqualifier," Zeleny agrees.
Irisa says, "Wholly independent, or would a member of the Krakatow City-States suffice?"
Zeleny says, "Independent enough that if it should undergo massive societal change, it won't immediately be, ah, reconquered by a national navy."
Irisa says, "Hmm... the Krakatow states are a tricky thing. I suppose it would depend on how vital the island was."
Zeleny says, "It can't be an insignificant city."
Verdant says, "Can it? There is an advantage to starting small."
Irisa says, "It's a fine balance. Too small and it won't have the trade we need to... properly dispose of our liberated goods. Too large and we risk bringing down the fury of the Guild and the Realm."
Irisa points to a different portion of the map. "Well, let's look at the Seafoam Alliance then...
Zeleny nods, and pays attention. "What are the options there?"
Irisa says, "Here's White Rock Island." She taps a reasonably-sized island near the center of the area claimed by the Alliance. "Fairly well-developed, considering. Not well-situated for a major trade hub, though."
Irisa says, "Then there's the Galla Archipelago."
Zeleny says, "Galla. What about Galla?"
Irisa says, "Actually, Galla might be perfect for our purposes: well-established trade routes, sizeable population, low Immaculate presence."
Irisa says, "The only downside is that it's..."
Irisa looks thoughtful.
Zeleny says, "What?"
Verdant looks at Irisa expectantly.
Irisa says, "Hmm. Well, the Archipelago takes its name from the volcanic island that dominates the chain. The volcano, in turn, takes its name from the powerful god who resides there."
Verdant says, "Where does Galla stand when it comes to the guild and slavers?"
Irisa says, "The god, or the islands?"
Verdant says, "The god."
Irisa says, "...not that there's much difference, I suppose... Well, I know that Galla is heavily involved in local politics - spirit and mortal - as well as the commerce that moves through his islands."
Irisa says, "They certainly profit from the slave-trade."
Zeleny looks at the map, at the contours of islands he knew so well, squint as the scribbles that denoted names, and decides he needed to educate himself on regional politics.
Verdant says, "In other words, he would oppose our...public relations efforts."
Zeleny says, "What else do you know of Galla? His character?"
Irisa answers, "Well, I hesitate to use the word 'firey,' but I believe it is apt. I have only seen him in person once, in the courts of my mother, but he is fearsome and ill-tempered. And, yes, if he caught wind of our actions, he would surely seek to destroy us, or drive us from his lands."
Zeleny says, "Is he much loved?"
Irisa raises an eyebrow at this. "I have not been to his lands myself, and few leave them except the traders. I belive he is much feared, if nothing else."
Zeleny says, "Perhaps we should just do our best to destroy him, then?"
Irisa makes placating gestures. "Let's not be rash, Captain."
Zeleny says, "Of course, that would make it likely the Guild would believe we had been involved..hm."
Verdant says, "A powerful god is more than likely not without powerful friends. We must choose our foes carefully."
Zeleny says, "Better not to get involved in divine politics," Zeleny agrees. "Nevertheless, aside from this ...Galla....the Galla Archipelago seems to be ideal for our purposes."
Verdant ponders a moment. "How well does Galla...police...the Archipelago? What if he was not aware of our presence, or involvement?"
Irisa makes a gentle shrug. "I think that we will have to investigate the Archipelago directly. My knowledge is all second-hand, and I would not want to risk anything on it."
Zeleny says, "Galla is here is it not?" Zeleny closes his eyes and makes a few quick calculations. "Three weeks away."
Verdant says, "I guess we'd better start sailing. Once we arrive, we'll have to investigate, and keep a low profile in the process."
Zeleny says, "Yes." He considers the route.
Verdant says, "One thing I'm wondering at the moment is how much the Guild has been circulating our descriptions."
Irisa flips her long, green hair over one shoulder. "I hope they at least paint an honest picture."
Zeleny touches the scars that scrawl along his face. "If they have.."
Verdant glances appreciatively at Irisa's hair flip, but his voice remains even. "I'm sure you understand my point. Difficult to keep a low profile if there are wanted posters with our faces on them all over town."
Zeleny says, "Disguises." Zeleny smiles, ever so slightly.
Verdant says, "I think they'll be a good precaution, posters or no."
Irisa makes a show of rolling her eyes at the fanciful suggestion. "Or we could allow the -crew- to do the investigating, since we tend to be..." She glances meaningfully at her hair, and the striking figures cut by both men.
Zeleny says, "The crew can do the investigating, yes. But they are not as skilled at inciting revolt. We will need disguises at some point."
Irisa still doesn't seem convinced. "If you insist."
Zeleny looks pleased.
The Eclipse sighs and shakes her head. "Very well, let us set a course for the Archipelago!"
Zeleny nods, and goes to the helm to do just that.
The crew seems to be of two minds about the change of plans: some were itching for more action against the Guild, and others were more than happy with the action they had already seen.
Zeleny is happy to inform them all that action was merely postponed; and that, furthermore, the Brilliance and the Emancipation would continue to act as politically-minded pirates.
Verdant, upon returning to his quarters aboard the Emancipation, is startled to find a long, cloth-wrapped bundle leaning against his makeshift desk. A small card, handwritten in beautiful Old Realm calligraphy, entreats Verdant to "put it to good use."
Verdant frowns, murmuring, "Some day, some how, I am going to surprise him." Verdant opens the bundle. As the neatly tied string unravels, and the cloth falls aside, the gleam of orichalcum shines even in the cabin's dim light. Verdant studies the item, his eyes widening. Revealed, a massive rod of gold and steel rests before his eyes. A flash of memory, a lightning-stroke of recollection that makes the sorcerer gasp, and he knows this weapon: this is an Eternal Pillar, an ancient Solar's staff, and it is Named "Glory's Halo." Glory's Halo is a massive column of orichalcum, carved with an infinitely complex mandala of powerful occult symbology. It would require two abnormally strong men, or three ordinary ones, to heft. Verdant sees himself whirl it through throngs of vaguely-remembered figures, sees himself lift it high above his head as he unleashes a spell that he knows - without recalling the specifics - would rain destruction down for miles. Then he is back in the slightly-musty holds of the Emancipation, the Named weapon standing proudly before him. The familiar five purple runes glow, spaced along the length of the weapon.
Verdant looks thoughtfully at the staff in his hands. "Greetings, old friend. I see I'm going to have to liberate you from a few bonds." His hands grip the artifact, and his anima banner glows as he extends his power to attune to the weapon.
The wielder and weapon seem to reacquaint themselves readily, and in 20 minutes that seem like 5, Verdant can heft the staff more easily than its mundane counterpart. Verdant performs a few experimental movements with the staff, smiling at the weapons balance and speed.
The next time Verdant appears on deck with his new acquisition, the crewmen stare at the spry academician hefting the massive weapon as though it were no heavier than bamboo.
Pyhrra spends the travel time keeping to herself. Shore occasionally manages to convince Verdant to shuttle her between ships so that she can keep Pyhrra company.
Otherwise, the Dawn Caste seems occupied in her martial disciplines, drilling herself constantly in the hot sun on Emancipation's top deck.
Irisa - not having much to do in the way of planning until the group reaches Galla - seems to handle the trip less well. She occasionally tries to engage the crew in conversation, but usually quickly loses interest.
Verdant spends a great deal of his time in his cabin, studying Glory's Halo or meditating. The times he is seen outside his cabin he is more often than not speaking with Irisa.
The two quickly establish a rapport; Exalted company is rare enough, and both Pyhrra and the Captain have their private concerns to tend to.
Often, when frequent course changes are necessary, one of the two has to sit in Ruler of Cerulean Seas for extended periods of time.
Verdant had been sitting in Ruler for nearly three hours, going slightly mad out of boredom, with nothing but the ghostly sea-song of the warstrider to keep him company.
He is startled out of his reverie when someone knocks on the moonsilver panel in front of him.
Verdant jumps looking to see who it is, though only two possibilities come to mind, and one is highly unlikely.
When he opens the chest panel, the midday sun pours in. Eclipsing the brilliance of the light, however, is Irisa's smiling face.
Water drips from her brilliant emerald hair, and she has traded her usual conservative, flowing dresses for a sleek outfit that is, nonetheless, soaked.
Irisa says, "I thought you could use some company."
She dangles her legs down into the exposed cavity of Ruler's chest.
Verdant smiles. "I would be honored."
As they sit and discuss nothing in particular, the sound of the waves passing beneath them mingles with the warstrider's song...
As the ships speed to their destination, Zeleny institutes new rules. He cuts duty rosters, and informs the men they no longer had off-duty time. Instead, they train, on the Emancipation and the Brilliance both, as Zeleny leaps from ship to ship.
He begins them with staves, and they drill together on the deck, jabbing their sticks .in synchronity. They drill on deck as the sun burns down upon them, and they drill when rain squalls drench the deck. They train in the hold amongst the cargo, and an unlucky few balance on ropes as they dance across the ropes and cloth of the uppersails, jabbing at each other with weapons.
In the beginning, they can barely hear it. A whisper of essence carressing their souls, igniting some truth within them, and they fight not as if they are learning something, but are beginning to remember . Mieklan listens to it, ever so slightly, as he tutors his crewmen. "War," essence hisses in his ear.
In the beginning, men dropped their weapons, or stumbled, or fell. Within days, that fades away, as essence works its way through their bodies and spirits. They become disciplined. "War is!" The essence whispers more insistently. "War is war is war is war is..." The training men hear it always, a faint litany running through them. They hear it as a memory of their mother. They hear it in their dreams.
Zeleny runs them through knives, and and they learn agility. He teaches them axes, and they become strong. He demonstrates swords, and they comprehend battle.
There is no more fumbling. No one drops a weapon, or misses a beat. Their concentration is perfect. They fight each other in mock battles, and strike with speed and daring. They become creative, and know that anything can be a weapon, in the hands of the right wielder.
Zeleny says, "War is Victory. Victory victory victory..." They hear it clear, an echo in their souls, and the essence is triumphant.
Mieklan trains, fighting two crewmen at once, and is overwhelmed.
Zeleny , surveying his work, realizes he has never seen such a force, not in all his battles with the guild. He wonders what he has created.
Monk sights a ship ahead. Heavy in the water, flying a Guild flag that in most cases left it unharassed. It is huge, and there is evidence of certain modifications belowdecks to handle certain types of live cargo. Certainly carrying slaves. Zeleny would see now, what he had wrought in those entrusted to him.
The men stand in orderly ranks as the Brilliance swoops down on her prey. No more milling around, no more uneasy whispering; they are ready.
Standing there, they cease to be men, and are revealed as what they are: weapons. Weapons forged by a godly hand, for a singular purpose.
This Guild ship is the largest Zeleny and his men have yet faced.
Their opposition will be many, and well-armed.
(Err, Z, you want the Solars to hold back so the men can show off?)
(yep)
Irisa found the most unnerving thing to be the way in which the battle began. Zeleny's men didn't scream, or yell, or bellow; they were utterly silent as they leaped and swung and stormed onto the hapless Guild ship.
Zeleny says, "Verdant. Pyhrra. Let the men handle this. I need to know...if they're ready."
Pyhrra looks quizically at the Zenith. Then she shrugs, and resheathes Memoir.
Verdant raises an eyebrow at the captain, but shrugs and leans against the mast. "Very well, let me know if they need any fire support."
The Guild mercenaries wore matte red armor, with short spears and khatars predominating amongst their arms. An usual complement, for the region.
Zeleny nods, and his hands grip the railing tightly as he watches the battle.
Wicked Mieklan hits the enemy lines first.
He whips around in a spinning kick, his extended foot cracking a mercenaries head around and ringing his helmet like a bell. The man drops, and Mieklan is already driving his twin swords into a second man by the time the rest of Zeleny's men arrive.
Salas is at the head of the Emancipation's crew, and the portly captain fights with a sureness in his gait he hasn't felt in years. Catching a mercenary's arm, Salas whips the man over his shoulder in a devastating throw, cracking the man's elbow with a final, brutal twist.
Sarotay is close behind Mieklan; he has taken his Captain's lessons to heart, and wields his flute as his only weapon. He deftly sidesteps savage spear thrusts, driving his baton into exposed throats and eyes, or shattering fingers with graceful arcing blows.
Octo, normally a peaceful, roly-poly young man, grimaces as his cesti hammer an enemy's face into pulp.
One mercenary, braver or stupider than than the rest, charges forward at the front line of the men of the Brilliance He's a big man, muscular from years working the sea. He falls hard, tripping over a bucket of water. Dell grins at the success of his stratagem. A real demonstration of proper placement of environment. The boy slips in, and stabs the man through the back of the neck.
Grim and Bones work together, as always. They engage four of the enemy is at once, and Grim is laughing, because the enemy is losing. Bones grins with his handful of black teeth.
Niehan walks through the carnage like the cold-hearted bastard that he is. To contrast with Mieklan's fury, Niehan is total efficiency - he dispatches enemies with a long, flexible knife that he slides in between their armor plates. They die with blood on their lips.
Back on the Brilliance's deck, the Solars are somewhat taken aback.
Zeleny says, "They're...very good." Zeleny observes.
Irisa smiles at Zeleny and Pyhrra. "Your job security appears to be in question, O noble warriors."
Verdant watches the battle's rather one sided progress. "It would appear they're ready." Verdant then half chuckles, half winces as a guardsman who foolishly rushed one of the Brilliance sailors is casually tripped and sent hurtling overboard.
Zeleny says, "Then while we infiltrate Galla ...the Brilliance and the Emancipation will fight elsewhere."
Near the observing Solars, a young man fights barehanded. He plants a sidekick in the unshielded knee of his adversary, swatting aside the sword that comes for him, then leaps over his opponent, kicking the mercenary in the back of the helmet. He grins and waves at Zeleny before rushing to find someone yet undefeated.
Mieklan is scaling the ropes, knife clenched in his teeth, in hot pursuit of a panicking mercenary. Shortly thereafter, a screaming form crashes into the Guild ship's deck, and lies still.
Verdant says, "To divert attention?"
A young woman, the sole survivor of a raiding party in the Salt Isles, catches the saber descending towards her throat with the flat of hook of hatchet, forcing the saber from its wielder's grasp. She fights without anger, but determinedly, and moves to cover Dell's side as the boy fights a man twice his size.
Zeleny says, "That. And also to free as many slaves as they can."
The mercenaries can already see that, despite superior arms and armor, they are outclassed. There is nowhere to run, however, and no quarter to be given. The acrobatic young man backflips past, grabbing a fallen khatar and hurling it with deadly accuracy into a pursuer's throat.
Zeleny says, "Take a surrender, if they offer it," Zeleny advises in a shout from the deck of the Brilliance.
Salas and Niehan both reply, "Aye, sir."
Zeleny, Verdant, Irisa, and Pyhrra watch, as the 'terms' of the surrender are quickly hammered out, occasionally with real hammers.
With a final, echoing "clang," the last resisting soldier falls to the deck. A clot of armored figures cowers, menaced on all sides by a ragtag band of pirates, sailors, and women.
Niehan closes to within easy speaking distance of his Captain. "They're all yours, sir."
Zeleny nods. "Thank you," he replies, without a trace of irony.
He leaps easily down to the deck of the new ship.
Pyhrra is still surveying the carnage. "Okay, that was kinda hot."
Zeleny says, "Keep them under guard," he instructs Dell, as he moves purposefully forward to investigate belowdecks.
Dell gives a salute, the serious expression looking rather ridiculous on the slight frame.
Verdant glances at Pyhrra. "That wasn't a battle so much as it was a foregone conclusion."
Pyhrra says, "Right, and it was totally hot. Did you -see- that little guy wail on those two bruisers? Pow!"
The wrap-up was quick; the lengthiest part was the heartfelt thanks of the liberated.
In the squalor and shadow of the hold, Zeleny strikes off chains, and escorts the freedmen to fresh air.
The triumphant pirates cheer when they see the fred slaves emerging, stunned, from the hold.
Corpses have already been neatly stacked to the side, in preparation for Zeleny's funeral-pyre touch later.
Most of the defeated are unconscious or the badly-wounded, however. Zeleny's men (and women) are unanimously without major wounds, although many are cut and bleeding in more than one place.
Zeleny questions the cargo as to their provenance and destination.
(Provenance?)
(you know...like wine. The place they come from.)
(Oh. Yes, I see. Very clever.)
Theirs was the monthly shipment of slaves to be dispersed across the Galla Archipelago. They are a wide-ranging group, some from as far away as Coral.
Zeleny outlines their options; he offers them the opportunity to join his crew, and free others in bondage, if they wished it. Those close to home could be returned there; those of Coral were beyond his resources to restore. He tells them of what other freedmen had chosen. "What do you wish to do?" he asks them simply, and glves them some time to discuss the matter among themselves.
As usual, the groups break down into three main categories. Under these circumstances, however, those who wish to join ex-slave colonies are willing to stay with the Brilliance until transport can be arranged.
Irisa makes an aside to Verdant as the Captain is interviewing the liberated, and the ship's doctors are tending the wounded: "The natives appear to be developing an unhealthy fascination with our captain."
Indeed, the barbarians liberated from the Hearty Loaf had taken to treating Zeleny with all the reverence of a deity. Now that they had seen his power first-hand, and felt it working within them, they seemed emboldened in their worship.
They were not bowing and scraping, but their leader appeared to be leading them in prayers of thanks off to one side of the captured ship.
Zeleny makes arrangments for the freedmen, and aids Irisa in confiscating various documents and cargo from the siezed ship. After some discussion with Niehan and Salas, he takes the prisoners aboard the Brilliance, to be set freed when they raided Galla.
The ship itself he leaves to those freed slaves who feel confident enough to sail it to various free isles.
The sun sets on two jubilant crews that night. Sailors show off amidst clapping and laughter, performing acrobatic feats that would have been impossible a mere month ago.
"We know the risk," A tall, grim, blue-haired gentlemen tells Zeleny sternly. "But sometimes...a man's got to learn what he's capable of. We know the sea. We've been shipped across it from one end of the West to the other." Zeleny grips the man's hand farewell, and the ship moves unsteadily away, dpearting to a seperate destiny.
Beer - real beer, not the kelp-beer that the sailors know and love - was among the goods carried by the merchant ship, imported all the way from Coral's limited arable land. Even more precious is a single cask of wine, which Irisa assures the Captain is of a fine vintage.
Zeleny says, "Well. Then it'll be useful to sell."
"Are you sure you won't take a glass with me, Captain? As a unique reward for all your hard work?"
Zeleny says, "Thank you, but no," Zeleny says firmly. "I leave the sour grapejuice to you."
As the crew celebrates into the night, Zeleny takes Salas and Niehan aside, to give them a quiet series of orders. They would make themselves a thorn in the Guild's side three hundred miles south, while the circle of Solars involved themselves in Gallan politics.
Niehan says, "Aye, sir. We'll make 'em thrice-sorry for every cross word they've said about you, and the Brilliance."
Zeleny winces. "Make them sorry for profiting from misery," he suggests.
Niehan nods grimly.
Salas and Niehan wait until Zeleny dismisses them, then return to the boasting, cheering, laughing crowd of sailors. Salas claps a hand around Niehan's shoulder's, a mug of foaming ale in his other hand.
Pyhrra is complaining to Irisa that she wanted to try some of this "wine." Irisa waves away the complaint, telling her to take it up with the Captain.
Zeleny stares after them, bemused to see them so easy with each other after months of feuding. They seemed to have buried the hatchet. He wonders what so absorbed him that he hadn't noticed.
Zeleny, courageous in adversity, retreats before Pyhrra can find him.
He finds himself standing next to Verdant, in the darkness of the foredeck, leaning on a massive golden staff. "Hidden Victory...?" he guesses, as a cold breeze gusts around them.
Only silence answers him. Zeleny moves closer, fearing the worse. "Verdant...?"
And then he hears it. A breathy, whistling noise...a snore.
Verdant Waves leans on his staff, eyes, closed, feet comfortably propped up against a barrel lashed to the deck.
He mutters something in Old Realm in his sleep.
Zeleny says, "Couldn't sleep amongst the carousing, eh?" Zeleny guesses. There is a brief pause, as Zeleny listens to the wash of the waves against the ship. "Sleep well." He departs, his footsteps the only sound save the sea.
The ships' lanterns burn long into the night, and the crew - both new and old - enjoy the celebration. Unfortunately, as many of the men discover the next day, while their great leader may make them mighty warriors in his own image... he can't make them any more resistant to hangovers. And so only the Solars greet the dawn with fresh faces and bright eyes, but a new day dawns regardless, and on the horizon: Galla.
END CHAPTER 19
