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Chapter 42 - Caught Between

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Slipping past the Red Talon enforcers was… surprisingly easy. Almost suspiciously so, actually. He hadn’t even needed to take to the roofs or anything – a quick detour into a side alley was enough to get past them.

It was possible he was just reading more into the situation than necessary – the docks were supposed to be Red Talon territory, after all. Whatever the reason, Zhujiao wasn’t about to question his luck.

The streets were damp with a faint mist rising off the river, the distant sounds of the harbour growing louder as he approached Captain Ahmir’s ship. The familiar scent of saltwater and damp wood greeted him, and the sight of the vessel looming in the moonlight filled him with a strange mix of relief and apprehension. Ahmir’s ship wasn’t grand, but it had a solid, workmanlike appearance.

As Zhujiao approached, the familiar rhythmic sound of the waves lapping against the dock settled his nerves slightly. He spotted Captain Ahmir near the gangplank, speaking with a deckhand, much as he had been when Zhujiao had first approached him to secure passage. This time, however, Ahmir’s expression was more focused, a small frown tugging at his lips.

The Captain turned as Zhujiao approached, his keen eyes locking onto him. A flicker of recognition passed across Ahmir’s face, and he raised a hand in a brief wave before folding his arms across his chest.

“Ah, right on time,” Ahmir greeted, his voice measured but carrying a subtle warmth. “I see you’ve equipped yourself well for the trip. Eager to set off?”

Zhujiao gave a slight smile. “Something like that. To be honest, I keep expecting something to go wrong at the last minute.” He glanced over his shoulder briefly, searching for any further signs of the Red Talons.

Ahmir’s gaze followed Zhujiao’s line of sight, his sharp eyes narrowing briefly before he nodded. “Good instincts,” he said, before gesturing toward the ship. “Welcome aboard. Follow me, I’ll show you to your cabin.”

Zhujiao stepped onto the gangplank, feeling the subtle sway of the boat beneath his feet. The cool breeze from the river brushed against his face as he followed Ahmir toward the ship’s interior. The deckhands moved about efficiently, preparing for their departure, but there was a subtle tension in the air that Zhujiao couldn’t quite place.

As they descended below deck, Ahmir spoke again, his tone casual but with a hint of something more. “You’ll find things... quieter once we’re on the river. Fewer prying eyes, fewer people asking questions they shouldn’t. I imagine that’s what you’re after.”

Zhujiao nodded. “The quieter, the better.”

Ahmir led him to a small cabin tucked away at the end of a narrow corridor. The room was modest, with little more than a cot and a small chest for his belongings, but it was clean and private—far better than the cramped, noisy quarters he had endured at the inn. There was even a small window – or porthole, as he thought it was called on ships – looking out onto the docks and allowing a slight breeze into the room.

“Here we are,” Ahmir said, stepping aside to let Zhujiao enter. “It’s not much, but it’ll serve. Food and water will be provided, as I mentioned before. If you need anything else, let me know, though we’ll be busy for a while yet.”

Zhujiao looked around the cabin, setting his bag down beside the cot. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Ahmir leaned against the doorframe, watching Zhujiao for a moment before speaking again. “We’ll be setting off soon enough. Feel free to get some sleep if you can – many passengers find it helps avoid sea sickness.”

Zhujiao opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, there was a sudden commotion from above deck. Raised voices, urgent and growing louder by the second.

Ahmir’s expression darkened instantly. “Stay here,” he instructed, turning sharply on his heel and heading back toward the stairs.

Zhujiao hesitated only for a moment before scrambling over to the porthole. He wasn’t about to put himself at risk by following the man up on deck, but if something was happening, a little warning could be the difference between escaping or not. His caution was proven wise as he spotted a group of Red Talon enforcers standing at the dock, their crimson sashes visible even in the weak light of early morning.

Captain Ahmir stood at the top of the gangplank, blocking their path. His usual calm demeanour had hardened into something more formidable, but the men facing him were unfazed.

“Is there something I can help you with, gentlemen?” the Captain asked firmly. His words were polite, but his tone was anything but.

One of the enforcers, a burly man with a thick beard, stepped forward, resting a hand casually on the hilt of his sword. “Captain, we’ve got orders,” he said, his tone mocking. “We’re here to inspect the cargo. Open your hold, or we’ll open it ourselves.”

“Orders, huh?” Ahmir said, his voice smooth but carrying an edge of steel. “Last I checked, the Red Talons didn’t give orders to ship captains. What you’re asking for sounds an awful lot like extortion. Is there any particular reason I should care about your orders?”

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The enforcer smirked. “Call it what you want, Captain. We’re not leaving until we’ve had a look at what you’re carrying.”

Ahmir’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t move. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small pouch of coins. He tossed it to the enforcer, the gold coins clinking as they landed in the man’s hand.

“There’s enough in there to buy yourself a drink and leave this ship in peace,” Ahmir said. “Take it and go.”

Zhujiao remained crouched by the porthole, his body tense as the Red Talon enforcer casually tossed the pouch of coins back at Captain Ahmir. Gold clinked against the deck, and the Captain’s expression darkened, his posture rigid.

“We’re not here for your gold, Captain,” the burly enforcer said, his mocking tone growing more serious. “We’re here to check your passengers… and cargo, I suppose.”

Ahmir narrowed his eyes, clearly surprised and discomforted by the sudden shift from how he expected things to play out. Regardless, his voice was steady and had an undeniable edge. “There’s nothing here for you, and you’ve no right to be searching my ship. Turn back now before you regret it.”

The enforcer grinned, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “We’ll be the ones to decide that.”

Tension crackled in the air as the crew members nearby shifted uneasily, their hands drifting toward their weapons. Ahmir didn’t flinch, but Zhujiao could feel the Captain weighing the situation, calculating the odds. The Red Talons weren’t backing down.

Zhujiao pressed closer to the porthole, heart racing. He hadn’t expected the situation to escalate this quickly. He watched the burly man’s smirk fade as the silence stretched, growing more uncomfortable by the second.

The Red Talon enforcer’s hand hovered over his sword, his face hardening as the silence between them stretched on. The tension between the two groups was palpable, and for a moment, it seemed like things might spiral into violence. But the man didn’t make his move. Instead, his eyes flickered to the side, and his mouth pulled into a thin line, as if reconsidering the outcome.

“Maybe we should—” he began, but another voice interrupted from behind him.

“Boss, wait,” one of the younger Red Talons said quietly, stepping up to the enforcer’s side. His gaze was fixed on something behind Ahmir, his brows furrowed in suspicion. The older man’s eyes followed the younger’s line of sight—toward the ship.

Zhujiao’s heart sank. He quickly ducked back from the porthole, but it was too late. He had been spotted.

The leader sighed heavily, rubbing a hand across his beard in frustration. He looked back at Ahmir, his previous bravado slightly deflated. “You could’ve just made this easy for everyone, Captain,” he said with a note of finality. “We don’t care about your cargo. Just bring out the boy.”

Ahmir didn’t flinch, his gaze unwavering. “There’s no one here you need to be concerned with,” he said firmly. “I suggest you leave.”

The enforcer took a step forward, his voice low and dangerous. “Captain, we don’t want to make a mess of this. We just need to check the kid. He fits the description.”

“I don’t care what description you have,” Ahmir replied, his tone as cold as steel. “No one on this ship is your business.”

Zhujiao’s breath quickened. He pressed his back against the wall of the cabin, willing himself to stay quiet, stay hidden. His pulse pounded in his ears as he listened to the standoff outside, knowing that the situation was unravelling faster than he could control.

The leader of the Red Talons exhaled slowly, clearly trying to rein in his temper. “Captain,” he said, his patience clearly wearing thin. “We’ve got our orders, and I don’t want to escalate this. Bring him out, let us see his face, and if it’s not him, we’ll leave. Simple as that.”

Ahmir didn’t move. “No.”

The enforcer’s eyes narrowed, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. For a moment, it looked like he might back down, but the younger Red Talon behind him muttered something under his breath. The leader glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to Ahmir, his expression resigned.

“Well, I gave you a chance,” he muttered, stepping forward and drawing his sword in a swift motion.

The sudden flash of steel in the moonlight caught Zhujiao’s breath in his throat. Captain Ahmir stood his ground, a long, ornate blade in his hand, its edge gleaming coldly under the faint light from the docks. Tension surged through the air as the other Red Talons followed suit, drawing their weapons in a practised, fluid motion. The crew shifted behind Ahmir, their own hands moving toward their weapons, prepared but clearly outnumbered.

Zhujiao crouched near the porthole, heart hammering in his chest. He didn’t want to be involved in this fight - didn’t want anyone to get hurt because of him. But the weight of the situation pressed heavily on him. He knew, deep down, that all of this was his fault. The Red Talons were here because of him, and if they got their hands on him, it wouldn’t end well.

A crash of footsteps echoed through the lower deck, and a sailor burst into the corridor, face pale but determined. In his arms were several swords, and he was moving from cabin to cabin, banging on the doors.

“Arm yourselves!” the sailor barked, thrusting a sword into the hands of an older man who had opened his door cautiously. “If you can fight, help us defend the ship. If not, stay here, stay quiet, and defend yourselves.”

The older man nodded grimly, his hands shaking as he accepted the weapon. More doors opened, revealing other passengers—nervous, wide-eyed merchants, a family huddled together with a young child peeking out from behind his mother’s skirts. The sailor moved quickly, distributing swords, his voice urgent as he called out instructions to brace for the coming fight.

Zhujiao froze as the sailor reached his cabin door. For a moment, their eyes met, and the sailor hesitated, his gaze flicking over Zhujiao’s small frame. But then, with no time to spare, the sailor thrust a narrow blade into his hands.

“Just in case, yeah? Probably best you keep your head down though, kid. We’ll handle this,” the sailor said in a rush before moving on to the next cabin.

Zhujiao stared at the sword in his hands, its weight unfamiliar and heavy. His Qi stirred beneath his skin, roiling with nervous energy, waiting for him to make a decision. His breath came fast and shallow. He knew he should hide—stay out of the way like the sailor had said. But hiding felt wrong, cowardly, when he knew this fight was his fault.

His pulse pounded in his ears as he glanced toward the porthole, considering escape. He could slip out now, sneak away in the chaos, and avoid all of this. He wouldn’t have to watch the crew fight, wouldn’t have to see anyone get hurt. But the thought of running left a sour taste in his mouth.

‘What am I doing?’ he thought to himself.

The Qi beneath his skin pulsed again, stronger this time, and he felt it - a sudden clarity, a sense of focus he hadn’t felt in a long time. His instincts told him to hide, to run, but another part of him - the part that had stolen from the Red Talons, the part that had stood up against them before - was telling him something different.

He had power now. He wasn’t the same boy who had run from every fight, cowering in the shadows. His Qi was stronger than it had ever been, and it thrummed with a quiet, dangerous energy.

Zhujiao’s grip tightened on the hilt of the sword as he stood, his decision made. He wasn’t going to run this time. He wasn’t going to hide.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door to his cabin and stepped into the corridor. The passengers, armed and scared, glanced at him as he moved toward the stairs. He didn’t know what he was going to do, didn’t know if he was even capable of fighting the Red Talons. But he couldn’t sit and watch while the people around him were dragged into his mess.