They trudged through the mountainous forest on rugged, nearly impassable paths for what felt like an eternity. The town of Merevin finally came into view, sprawled across the hillside. Behind it, the wide expanse of the Graywater River shimmered in the moonlight, resembling a gigantic serpent winding its way around the hill.

By the time they reached the gates, night had fully descended. Torches flickered across the town, casting an amber glow over the slope. The river mirrored the scattered lights, with small boats drifting lazily on its surface.

At the edge of town, the four companions stumbled upon a slave market. Captives, bound and dejected, were being dragged in from all directions. Mounted archers patrolled the perimeter, herding people like livestock. Michael noticed Uriel clenching his fists, the rage in his eyes barely contained.

The market buzzed with a lively mix of shouts and bargaining. Amidst the bustling market, merchants from Samaratia and Al-Moravydia bartered and assessed the “merchandise”.

It seemed that Merevin did not have a shortage of brothels and taverns, either.

Uriel pushed his way through the throng, his companions following closely behind. “We need to find a ship,” he said grimly. Their horses, held by the reins, followed obediently, while their hands stayed ready on their swords, prepared for trouble at any moment.

The so-called harbor was smaller than the one in Mondelay, but it teemed with ships, most of them small and battered. Still, the activity here rivaled the busiest ports Michael had seen.

“While I search for a captain willing to take us, find a place to rest,” Uriel instructed, handing a small pouch of coins to Lucius and tossing his horse’s reins to Michael.

Angela glanced at the pouch with a smirk. “When did he manage to swipe this?” she teased as she counted the gold.

They picked the closest inn so Uriel could easily find it. Horses were taken care of too. They headed over to a table in the far corner and dug into the food that came a little late, satisfying their two days hunger.

Michael was so tired, he plopped down in the chair and shut his eyes, but Angela’s loud shout woke him up and he started looking around to stay awake.

The inn was lively. Lamps cast flickering light across walls adorned with black wood and animal skins. The bar was busy, with mugs of frothy beer clinking together and a small, bearded innkeeper rushing to keep up with orders. Above the bar, massive buffalo horns hung as trophies, adding to the rustic charm.

“I’ll have a mead,” Michael heard the blondy say, and the worn-out boy collapsed onto the chair and devoured the hot stew.

“Here’s your drink, sir,” the waiter hurriedly brought it over, but Uriel was too busy eating, so Lucius grabbed a mug.

Have you found someone?” - Angela asked when Uriel finished eating and took a sip.

“The Messenger of the Mermaid is the only ship leaving early tomorrow morning. The captain might help us, but I haven’t been able to meet him yet. We can’t afford to wait another day; staying here increases our risk of being discovered by the marked ones.”

“How big is the ship? Could we sneak aboard?” Angela asked again, her brow furrowing in thought.

“It’s the largest ship in Merevin, but sneaking in won’t be easy. It’s packed with captives and contraband, heavily guarded. Still, we’ll have to try. The guards might be open to bribery, but we’ll need more money for that.”

“We don’t have time to waste.” He stood abruptly and strode toward the door, Michael trailing behind, still sluggish from exhaustion.

Angela took charge of the “money-making” effort. Using her charm, she lured drunken patrons into dark alleys, where they were swiftly knocked unconscious and relieved of their valuables. After the third victim, Uriel decided they had enough gold to proceed with their plan.

Uriel approached the Samaratian guards, negotiating their passage. In exchange for a hefty sum, the guards agreed to smuggle them aboard disguised as contraband. Four crates were prepared, and Uriel paid half the agreed amount upfront, promising the rest would be hidden in a tavern wall after their safe passage.

Inside one of the cramped crates, Michael grumbled, “I wish these boxes were bigger.” His head throbbed from a clumsy drop by the Samaratians, but exhaustion soon lulled him to sleep.

“Michael, wake up!” Angela’s voice pulled him from his slumber. A faint light seeped through the crate’s cracks, illuminating his cramped quarters. Moments later, the crate’s wall was pried open, revealing Uriel and Angela.

Outside, the cargo hold was stiflingly hot, sunlight filtering through small gaps in the wooden walls. The sounds of sailors shouting orders echoed faintly.

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“What time is it?” - asked Michael in a low voice.

“Maybe it’ll be past noon, judging by how hot it is,” said Blondy.

Michael’s question broke the silence that had been going on for a while.

“What’s the plan now?” Are we gonna try to free the prisoners?”

“This makes no sense! There are about twenty guards and sailors on the ship. We can’t mess with it,” the Blondy answered, not like his usual self. The ship’s about to arrive in Verthgold. The guards gotta unload those four boxes over there. I promised them extra pay for it. I told them they’d be met at the port and given the gold, but all four boxes had to be in one piece.

“Alright, if we actually make it to Verthgold, what’s the plan?“- Angela asked this time.”

They took our map and stuff when they captured us, but I think we can still remember the way without it. Verthgold is our first stop, and Aleman might be next.

“Yes, but how does a ship full of contraband sail so freely on the Graywater, or dare to enter Verthgold?” Lucius doubted, his brow furrowed in concern. The eastern part of the country had remained untouched by attacks, and the power should still be in the hands of the governors. How could they allow this?

“I do not know,” Uriel replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “That region is too close to Samaratia, and maybe they don’t dare to detain the ships, but I don’t think that’s the only thing.”

“Finally, anyway, what are we going to do?” Angela asked, her voice filled with frustration. “We are constantly running, but why or where none of us understand. What should we do if we go to Aleman and we don’t find wizards there? Can we cross the ocean? What does Regad’s vessel want from us? Why is it following us? When did it decide to obsess over us? As I recall, the Red Eyes were just as eager to kill us as they were to all the other people in Mondelay. What had changed?”

“I don’t have a clue what has changed, but we are running to find out,” Lucius replied, his voice devoid of emotion. His deep eyes searched for answers. His sister bore a resemblance with the same intense gaze.

“Is Verthgold far away?” Michael finally asked, breaking the heavy silence that followed Lucius’s words.

“Three or four days, in the best case...” Uriel answered, his voice laced with weariness.

“During this time, we will need food, which we will probably find in these sacks. There are also gallons full of water, but we must be cautious that no one doubts our existence. Mostly, we have to stay hidden in the boxes because we don’t know who will come in and when.”

The second night on the ship passed since they set sail, Michael was chewing on a piece of biscuit and pondering when their miserable journey would come to an end. They usually talked late at night, long after most sailors had gone to sleep, keeping their weapons close and sleeping in a way that allowed them to be ready for any surprises. They ate and drank very little to avoid leaving any evidence of their presence on the ship.

Michael was waiting for one of his companions to signal that it was time to move. Despite the piece of biscuit, he was very hungry, and the need to urinate was bothering him so much that he could not bear it any longer. He lightly kicked the board and went to the far corner of the cabin to relieve himself.

After he finished, he realized that he had left his sword in the box and when he tried to retrieve it, it was nowhere to be found. Lucius was also crawling from the box, perhaps having heard something.

The door creaked open unexpectedly, and they heard indistinct voices. Michael froze on the spot. In the dimly lit cabin, illuminated solely by moonlight through cracks in the walls, Lucius’s crouched figure was visible.

The sound of footsteps approached. Michael recognized the guards of the “Mermaid’s Messenger”. They also noticed him and Lucius. It became clear that they too had not expected to see anyone in the half-dark cabin. Unlike them, Michael and Lucius’ eyes were accustomed to the darkness.

Michael was unsure of what the guards wanted in the warehouse. Typically, only contraband and ship supplies were kept there. It was possible that they were stealing or looking for food. Regardless, they witnessed something they were not supposed to see.

Lucius swiftly plunged his knife into the throat of the first guard as soon as he opened his mouth to sound the alarm. In his attempt to flee, the second guard was halted by an arrow unleashed by Angela, causing him to collapse to the ground with an iron-tipped stick wedged firmly between his shoulders.

Lastly, Blondy also crawled out of the box, sword drawn, but despite waiting for several minutes, no more sound reached their ears.

“What now?” Michael whispered, his voice tense.

“We can’t just leave the bodies here,” Uriel said grimly. “But dumping them overboard isn’t an option either; the deck is crawling with guards.”

Lucius’s eyes lit up with an idea. “I found some emerald grass in the cargo earlier. It’s potent stuff. If we mix its juice into their water supply, it might knock them out long enough for us to escape.”

Uriel nodded. “It’s risky, but it’s our best shot.”

Several hours had passed since they had been trampling the grass with their knives. The dead guards had been hidden in a far corner among the boxes. The blood had been wiped off.

They had been dabbing Lucius’s upper body with the juice that had come out of the grass and then straining it into barrels. Lucius had been choosing the dosage. There was a lot of grass, but they had to get it before morning, so they had to poison only four of the barrels closest to the door. According to Lucius, the dose should not be excessive, because it would take effect very quickly and others might realize that they were poisoning the water...

It was a dubious plan, but they were not going to miss the opportunity. As soon as dawn came, they hid their activities, and those who had returned to the boxes began to wait.

Nothing happened for about an hour. Then footsteps were heard on the stairs and the door opened with a crack. Several Samaritans entered. One of them said something angrily, the others answered and walked out with heavy steps.

They didn’t come out of the boxes for a while. Then they crept out one by one.

Hours later, shouts erupted from the deck, followed by an eerie silence. When they finally dared to emerge, the sight was both horrifying and surreal: sailors and guards lay sprawled across the deck, their eyes glassy and limbs limp.

“What happened?” Angela asked, her voice trembling.

Lucius held up a small jar. “They must have used the poisoned water to make fish soup. The dose was stronger than we planned.”

“Are they dead?” Angela’s voice quivered with fear.

“No, just incapacitated,” Lucius replied, though uncertainty lingered in his tone.

“If someone did not eat the soup and is still sober, we must find them,” - Uriel brandished his sword and went down the stairs.