They were greeted by a sea of backs pressed against each other and an unexpectedly grayish sky straight ahead. Tolas, instead of trying to push all the sailors in front of him, preferred to use his voice.

"Make way!" he suddenly thundered.

As if they had rehearsed this maneuver many times before, the sailors split in two, leaving a clear path for Tolas and Raphaëlle, who advanced to the railing, gaping.

In front of them was a huge, almost opaque wall of fog that separated the sea in two. The Altaïr had stopped a few meters before entering it. The fog was so thick that Raphaëlle could have sworn it was solid. If she hadn't been so attached to her dagger, she might have tried to throw it to see if it wouldn’t just bounce off.

Tolas had already regained his composure and left in search of Krag, thinking that he might have an explanation for this phenomenon. He finally saw him with his brother at the front of the ship, and he joined them as quickly as possible.

Raphaëlle was on his heels, discreetly following him by blending in with the other crew members and doing her best to go unnoticed. She ended up hiding a few meters from their position, behind two imposing machinists who had their backs turned to her. She strained her ears as much as she could to hear what was happening despite the noises and whispers that had been filling the air for several minutes now.

"...already open, so that's one less mission for you!” Krag was saying, addressing Tolas. “Normally, the fog should be harmless, but..."

A wave a bit stronger than the others made the ship sway and one of the two machinists in front of Raphaëlle lost his balance. The young woman couldn't move in time to dodge the massive figure and took the back of the big guy's head right in the face.

Dazed, she still managed to maintain her balance while holding her aching nose. The sailor, who had felt the impact, had turned to apologize but Raphaëlle had raised her hand to stop him from saying anything, as she was still trying to listen to what was happening.

When she focused her attention back on the conversation, she noticed that Spirit had disappeared, leaving only Tolas and the captain. They were looking in her direction, and, to her surprise, the captain seemed like he was about to crack a smile. He waved his hand, greeting her from afar, still with that grin distorting his face.

Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her and froze, not daring to move anymore. But when she felt the familiar touch of Spirit's hand on her shoulder, she turned around with a sigh, releasing the tension all at once, and her eyes rolled to the sky.

"You just can’t stop, can you?" Spirit said playfully.

Raphaëlle squinted her eyes, pouting.

"What? Can’t a lass just eavesdrop in peace around here?"

"Never said you couldn’t."

She raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"So... what's the problem?"

Spirit raised an inquisitive eyebrow in turn before letting a hint of a smile pass on his lips.

"Never said there was one either. But apparently, the captain needed some distraction..."

Now scowling a bit, Raphaëlle turned to see Krag, laughing his hat off, mimicking a panicked expression while looking at her. Tolas, who was also looking in her direction, shrugged with an apologetic smile. The young woman bared her teeth before refocusing on Spirit.

"I think he just likes messing with you." Spirit admitted.

Raphaëlle growled in discontent, clearly fed up.

"And I think I haven’t signed up to be his personal buffoon. Not that I signed anything to begin with…" she complained, refraining from making an obscene gesture.

Spirit, regaining his seriousness, gestured for her to calm down. Krag and Tolas had started to move, each going their own ways. While keeping an eye on the crew, Spirit spoke to Raphaëlle.

"You need to go pack for the journey, take enough for a few days. Then head to the kitchen; Sam has prepared supplies for you and the rest of the expedition team. The other members are already preparing one of the boats for your departure. Tolas still has some instructions to give to the crew before joining you."

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

The young deckhand nodded in silence. She was about to leave when Spirit held her back, signaling her to follow him and stepping a bit aside from the rest of the men.

"You’ve got to finish this mission by tomorrow maximum; that's all the time we can give you. As long as this wall of fog is here, the Altaïr is in constant danger. We don't know what could come out of it and we’re only an hour away from the last known position of the Cormoran’s fleet. So, tomorrow at noon, we’ll leave if this wall of fog isn’t gone, whether you're back or not ... "

Spirit took a small distress pistol from his right pocket and placed it in the young woman's hand, covering it with his own.

"Tolas already has one, but I know him; he'll do everything to avoid using it. I'm giving you this one for emergencies and because I’m sure that you’ll know when to use it. So, look out for him because I know his priority will be to look out for you."

The young woman could sense that something was genuinely worrying Spirit. Hiding the pistol in her belt, she then placed her other hand on the second mate's and squeezed it slightly, with a confident smile.

"You can count on me."

A few minutes later, Raphaëlle burst into the kitchens, trying to waste as little time as possible to join her team. She spotted a tall figure huddled near the stoves, timidly watching her from a distance with his body hidden in the kitchen's dim light.

"Uh, Sam? Spirit sent me, I’m supposed to get the supplies for the exploration team.” she declared loudly and proudly.

"Oh!" came a soft, high-pitched voice.

The owner of the voice slowly got closer to her, as if approaching an unfamiliar animal. Suddenly, the silhouette slid on an old dishcloth on the floor and lost his balance. Quick as lightning, Raphaëlle lunged forward and managed to catch the young man who had fallen forward. They landed heavily on the floor, knocking over a few pots in the process.

Raphaëlle burst into laughter all of a sudden and the young man bashfully joined in. They got up, dusting themselves off, and she placed her fists on her hips, smiling slightly.

"A dynamic entrance!" she smirked.

"Uh... yes, I... I'm sorry," the young man stammered before collecting himself. "Sam! Yes, it's me, it's... I'm Sam."

Raphaëlle observed him for a moment. Tall, with an almost childlike face, he had brown hair that shimmered in the semi-darkness of the kitchen. He was rather slender but seemed strangely fit despite his hunched shoulders and somewhat loose posture. He extended his hand, and the deckhand shook it vigorously.

"Raphaëlle, pleased to meet you."

"Rap... Oh yes, you're the girl! My father told me about you when I came onboard!"

Sam turned abruptly and started rummaging behind the stoves. With a satisfied "Ah!", he pulled out a large greasy jute bag and proudly presented it to Raphaëlle. She grabbed it and almost fell over. Sam had moved it so effortlessly that she wasn’t expecting how heavy the bag actually was. Starry-eyed, the cook began describing what he had prepared :

"We had quite a bit of dried beef left from our last stop ashore and I managed to find some salt to preserve it longer. It wasn't easy but it's important that you can eat something that won't make anyone sick. We were also lucky; we had more surviving chickens than before, so I could put a few pieces in for you! I wrapped all your meat in wax paper, just to make sure it doesn't end up soaked if the bags fall into the water. Ah, also, some fish! We had tons of tuna, I mean, almost literally. I did my best to improve the taste; I found some herbs with interesting scents last time we went to..."

"Hey, hey, hey," Raphaëlle interrupted him, putting a finger on his mouth. "I think I can see why Hubert told me not to let you trail off when you talked about food."

Sam's cheeks suddenly reddened, and he lowered his head a bit, embarrassed.

"My... my father told you about me?"

"Enough for me to know that we're probably going to love whatever else is in this bag.” she reassured him.

The young cook didn't look up, but Raphaëlle could imagine the smile spreading across his cherubic face. She laughed for a moment before heading towards the exit of the kitchen.

"I can't wait to taste this, Chef!"

"C-Chef!? B-but no, I... I'm just..."

Sam didn't even have time to finish his sentence. Raphaëlle had already disappeared into the main deck corridor, ready to set sail.

"I'm just the help..."

Once Raphaëlle arrived on the upper deck, she joined her team consisting of Tolas, an old one-eyed seaman with a somewhat taciturn demeanor dressed in a black and red sailor's sweater named Cornell, and a slightly panicked crew technician wearing a dirty blue beanie and an undersized sailor's jacket named Skepta. She arrived just as Spirit's was giving his final instructions, while Captain Krag stood with his back to him, issuing orders to the sailors on the deck.

"... pirate, is that clear?" Spirit finished saying while Raphaëlle was busy finding a more comfortable spot.

"We'll remember that." replied Tolas in a tone as neutral as possible as he finished unraveling the ropes from the boat.

"I trust you, bosun."

Tolas looked up at his brother, a mix of pride and annoyance on his face. Trying to sound nonchalant, he turned around to pretend to search for something under the boat's bench.

"I won't fail this mission. I swear."

Spirit responded with a silent pause, only a shadow of a smile on his face.

"Hum…Spirit?" Raphaëlle ventured with a timid voice. "Do you…huh, do you mind repeating? That’d be..."

The Second turned his head slowly towards Raphaëlle, one eyebrow slightly more raised than the other.

"...Uh...that would be... nice." she finished with a slight cough, sensing that she had ruined a rare moment of camaraderie between the two brothers.

They both rolled their eyes simultaneously before Spirit spoke again.

"Never trust a pirate."