The sun hung low over the labyrinthine canals, casting its warm, golden embrace upon the bustling metropolis. Although he still didn’t have enough money to purchase the tour, he did have enough to purchase some of the things he would need for the trip. So, that afternoon, he went to Il Mercantile, a shop near Piazza San Marco, to buy some bedding. He would pay more because the shops around the piazza catered to the pilgrims to the holy land, but here, he could blend in with other travelers.

At Il Mercantile, Renier invested his limited funds wisely: basic bedding, a hardy satchel of provisions, and essential medical supplies. His more significant purchases, a sturdy cloak and durable leather boots, cost him dearly but were necessary for the journey ahead.

It was now early evening, and the sun had set. His purchases made, he quickly moved through the crowd while keeping watchful for his uncle's men. Some potential marks tempted him along the way, but pickpocketing while carrying bundles was beyond his skill. He would get the rest of the money later and depart with the tour scheduled to leave the following morning with the tide.

In a dark alley, he hid his purchases and searched for a mark. A fat, drunk merchant provided him with the 12 gold he needed. This time, his artful dodge was smooth, and Renier was blocks away when the mark noticed his missing purse. Then he returned to the alley and waited awake for the morning, plenty of time to sleep on the galley.

Just before dawn that morning, he changed into his traveling outfit, and loaded with his provisions, went to the Rialto. Old Alessio - of the ancient Contarina family - was in charge of the tour that would leave that day. Renier approached him and purchased his passage for the pilgrimage. He had no intention of going to the Holy Land, but this tour's first stop was Constantinople.

Having paid, he boarded the galley and found an empty spot on the lower deck that would serve as his berth. Three gentlemen and a lady who looked Saxon had already unfurled their bedrolls.

Not knowing German, Renier said, “Bondì,” greeting them in Venetian, but they merely nodded at him.

About 15 minutes later, a priest with six noblemen from how they spoke, he identified them as being from Castile.

“Buenos días,” he said with a slight bow. The noblemen only noted, but the priest, with a friendly smile, answered, “Paz con vosotros."

Slowly, every berth was taken until the ship was complete.

After the service to bless the voyage and just before evening, with thirty-eight pilgrims and Renier aboard, they rowed out of the lagoon to the open sea as the three sails were spread to the sound of trumpets and horns, a fair wind at their backs.

Renier stirred from a restless sleep, the rowers' drums beating a frantic rhythm that echoed his own racing heart. He had not slept well during the trip. The sounds of the sea were alien to him, and every single night, he had nightmares about a beautiful woman dressed in black trying to trap him.

Groggy and in a bad mood, he sat on his mattress, wondering what the problem was. When everyone was awake, old Alessio announced to the group."We will stay below decks if there is any conflict. In the worst case, they will capture us and ransom the ship to the Contarina family. Everyone will be okay."

What was this old man talking about? Curious, he snuck up to the main deck. If there's going to be trouble... he looked for something to defend himself with. The falchion his father had given him for his tenth birthday had been left behind as he hastily fled the inn where his father had been murdered. He searched, but no weapon could be found. A short plank he saw at the bottom of the stairs would have to make do.

As the galley crested a wave, Renier saw two Genoese galleys headed towards them. Although Genoa and Venice had a truce at the moment, the reality was that any ship alone at sea was at risk.

The captain sped up the rowing, trying to reach a Venetian patrol or the nearest port before they were overtaken. There was a flurry of activity throughout the ship as the sailors got ready to be boarded. Despite the maneuvering efforts of the captain, the Genoese continued to get closer.

The enemy galleys were now within bow shot, one on each side of the ship trying to ram them from either side. As the Genoese galleys closed in, the captain's voice cut through the tension. “Starboard, retract oars!” In a fluid motion, the rowers on the starboard side pulled in their oars, narrowly avoiding a collision.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The quick maneuver caused the starboard side enemy galley to miss entirely and the port side galley's ram to glance off. "Deploy oars! Triple time," the captain yelled, and the well-trained rowers precisely executed his orders as the drum marked a triple time beat. However, the Genoese galley closest to the ship lobbed grappling hooks, trying to capture the ship.

"Repel," yelled the captain, and dozens of sailors lined up on the starboard and aft with swords in hand, cutting off any hook that latched on. In the meantime, the other galley turned to give chase.

The drums continued the triple beat. At the same time, the rowers strained to widen the gap between ships. Renier watched everything from the top of the stairs to the deck below. His right hand was red from the tight grip on the wooden plank. As Renier's fingers ached around the makeshift weapon, his mind raced back to the night of the murder. The fear, the chaos, the helplessness – it all flooded back. Clenching his teeth, he promised himself, I will have my revenge.

Twenty minutes later, Renier heard a sailor report, "We're taking on water from the starboard side, captain." "Man, the starboard pumps. Reduce to double time," the captain yelled. Ten sailors quickly passed Renier and went below deck to turn the cranks that would push the water out. The drums slowed their beat, and the Genoese ship started to gain distance again. A careful balancing act ensued.

The enemy would reach bow shot distance, and the captain would order triple time. The Venetians would pull away, and the captain would reduce the cadence, giving the rowers a much-needed rest. Renier hadn't noticed before, but when the tempo slowed, one-third of the sixty oars would rest and alternate every twenty minutes.

The dance with the Genoese lasted for six hours until a sailor reported that the hull had been patched. Then the captain ordered a sustained triple time, leaving the Genoese ships behind. Shortly after, two Venetian war galleys could be seen on the horizon.

The following day, old Alessio again had an announcement. "The ship has been patched, but the captain feels that it would be best to go to Cattaro and make repairs at their dock. This will delay us by a week, but it's better than having problems in the open sea."

"We were lucky," Renier heard old Alessio tell the captain as he walked towards the two men, "had they fired arrows, many would have been killed." "They wanted prisoners and ransom, not war," the captain answered in a tone that said the remark was obvious.

"Capitano, could I borrow a gladius for practice in the mornings?" Renier asked in his broken Venetian. "You, ragazzo, know how to use a sword?" the captain answered dismissively. "What would he say if you cut yourself?" he continued, pointing at old Alessio. "My father taught me how to use a falchion, and it isn't much different, and with the situation, I thought it might be wise. Only 1 hour each morning, please!" Renier pleaded. The captain thought for a moment, then smiled.

"Enzo, let the boy use a gladius to train," the captain shouted to the first mate. Then he turned to Renier and warned him, "You better not make me regret this. I'll throw you overboard and report you lost at sea!"

So, just before dawn every morning, Renier would go up to the main deck, exercise, and train with the borrowed gladius.

Physical training involved doing push-ups, sit-ups, lunges, and other regular exercises. However, it also involved straight-hand strikes, powerful thrusts, and sideways and upward strikes. Forward, hook, and rear kicks were also added in, as if his father was preparing him for hand-to-hand combat. Sword training followed the Spanish fencing style.

Renier would adopt a balanced stance, his left foot forward and knees slightly bent. The sword would be in his right hand. Then, he would practice thrusts to an imaginary torso while lunging forward and maintaining his balance. After, he would reverse with his sword in his left hand. One thing his father had emphasized was that in sword fighting, one had to be ambidextrous. Finishing the thrusts, he would practice slashes, chops, parries, and blocks. Again, with each hand.

Surprisingly, he improved dramatically by the third day of training. He could barely finish twenty push-ups on the first day, but he was doing one hundred two days later. Exhilarating strength flowed from in his body, along with a constant itching of his right palm, exactly where the stone had buried itself.

He noticed how his muscles started growing, and it was a good thing he bought extra rations because he was constantly hungry. Each new muscle Renier felt under his skin made him feel closer to his vengeance.

Equally, his sword lunges were more precise, and where at the beginning he would only last a couple of minutes, now he could easily train for half an hour with a sword without tiring. He didn't understand how his body was changing so rapidly but welcomed his increased strength and stamina.

"Maybe we won't have to throw you overboard," commented Enzo one day as Renier finished his workout.

Outside of the practice, Renier spent his time below decks. He kept to himself, avoiding the other passengers' drama; frequent conflicts broke out, and thievery was rampant. Meanwhile, he kept to his space while daydreaming of finally finding his aunt, getting strong, and plotting the gruesome death of his uncle.

The morning sunlight was reaching the Kampana tower as the ship reached Cattaro. Renier was standing on the bow of the da mercato galley he had been on for six days. Luckily, the rest of the trip had been without consequence, and no other Genoese ships had been sighted. He had just finished the exercise routines and was trying to stretch his neck to relieve the stiffness from sleeping the night before - his pillow having mysteriously disappeared two days ago - as the ship entered the bay.

"Prepare to dock," the first mate ordered. Six sailors started to furl the sails, and the drum's tempo slowed as they maneuvered the ship. "Mooring lines! Retract oars," sailors threw thick ropes to the dock crew, and the rowers quickly pulled in the oars so the galley could be moored. "Deploy the gangway!" After the mooring lines were tied, a gangway was placed

"Friends, we will be here for seven days. An Inn owned by the Contarina family will provide accommodations during that time," announced old Alessio.

"Will we have private rooms? Are baths available?" A barrage of questions came from the passengers as they followed old Alessio and started to disembark.

"Finally solid land," one passenger commented. "And decent food. Not that slop we've been eating!" another retorted. "A bath!" A middle-aged lady shouted to no one in particular.

As Renier crossed the gangway, off to the left, on the adjoining dock, he saw a train of mules being loaded from the cargo on board another vessel. "You need to go faster," a tall, finely dressed, blonde man shouted to a worker who looked to be the chief porter, "I have to be on my way today! If I don't leave on time, you'll pay with your hide!" Four armed guards surrounded them, trying to keep the peace. "Lord Menart, my men are going as fast as possible. I've even taken people from other jobs. We can't possibly go any faster," the chief porter tried to appease the angry merchant.

Renier, startled, cursed all the gods he knew and the ones he didn't and immediately pulled the hood of his cloak up. It was his uncle. Anger, fear, and hatred welled up in him!