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Chapter LXXIII : Mutiny
Midnight of Tertius, Twenty-Fifth Day of Autumnmoon
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Józef loved the smell of the ocean. It reminded him of freedom and all the times he used to stow away and escape his regimented life as heir. So, he left the warmth of his cabin and headed to the basin of one of the ship’s many lifeboats. It was far more comfortable than below deck, where musty old mattresses and creaky floorboards kept him awake all night.
He liked to watch the night sky, since it reminded him of Angela. On their very first voyage, leaving Vineta, they snuck to the ship’s deck after dark to see the aurora borealis. Hand in hand, they watched as ribbons of green light streaked across the sky. A crisp breeze blew across the deck, and Angela snuggled close. She pressed her body against his to share warmth. The moment was precious enough to make bards weep.
Józef wanted to hold on to those memories. He wanted Angela’s death to be a reminder of the consequences of his actions, even if it brought him pain. After the frenzy of events of the last few weeks, including the destruction of Rungholt’s castle, meeting the enigmatic Knight, Bram Morrison, journeying to Loulan, and the massive battle that followed, he finally had some down time to catch up on his emotions.
Angela wasn’t the only one that crossed his mind. He could never forget the dream of his mother, which was the first time he ever pictured her with clarity. Though the image was already fading from his mind, he still wanted to acknowledge, that in some mysterious way, his mother had reached out from beyond the grave to save his life. Not just once, but several times.
As callow as it sounded, he felt as if his mother protected him during Angkor’s attack, both at Rungholt and Loulan. There were too many close calls not to suspect some kind of intervention. Though Angkor eventually prevailed and took the sunstone, at least he was still alive. And at last, he would rule a country that was no longer under Angkorian occupation. He would have his chance to use his newly learned skills and experience to rebuild his homeland.
According to the sailors who picked him up, Angkor was defeated because of the excellent leadership of his Minister of Security, Hans Unruh. They explained that Hans had sworn the oath of Surrogacy to gain the powers he needed to stage the counterattack. It was clear Hans faced some tough choices to prevent Angkor from discovering an entrance to Rungholt’s underground Network. So he couldn’t fault the man for countermanding his orders and taking a leadership position. In fact, he decided to bestow a medal of honor to Hans upon his return.
Eager to arrive, and just a day or two from his destination, Józef sat back and listened to the mellow waves as they crashed against the hull of the ship. It was almost harmonious with the twinkling of stars. It was his last chance to relax before shouldering the enormous responsibility of leading a nation. Although free from Angkor’s occupation, Kitezh was now at war, and there would be more conflicts. Worse, Angkor had three sunstones, and at some point, they would return for vengeance.
He hoped Bram would make it to Vineta and warn them in time. It was too horrifying to imagine the outcome, otherwise. While he learned much from Emperor Zhao about the Ahrimen, there was still so much more he needed to learn before taking on these infernal demons.
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The last time the world faced the Ahrimen, it resulted in the Omega War and a cataclysm that nearly destroyed everything. The mere thought of a world at war with demons sent chills up his spine, more than the icy northern winds ever could. Too much of history was missing to know the full extent of these battle, but it was clear that mankind had little hope, unless all the world’s nations banded together. Such was Józef’s priority upon returning home.
As he laid on his back in the basin of the lifeboat, staring into the night’s sky, he heard an audible thud from above deck. Curious, he rolled to his side and peeked over the edge of the ship, as the cabin door burst open. A couple of sailors emerged, each dragging what appeared to be a large, burlap sack.
The details were hidden by the starlit night, but Józef had an uneasy feeling that settled in the pit of his gut. Of all the times he had been at sea, he’d never seen such a thing. As he watched, the crew heaved two sacks over the edge of the ship. His uneasiness turned to dread, as he estimated the size and weight of the sacks to roughly that of a human body. Enough to account for the two loyal attendants who survived the attack at Loulan and joined him on his voyage home.
“Where’s the boy?” one of the sailors whispered.
“Not in his cot,” the other responded. “Just checked.”
The first one cursed. “Damnit! It’ll be our heads on the chopping block if we can’t find ‘im. I want every blasted inch o’ this ship turned over ‘till he’s found. Understand?”
Józef’s heart skipped a beat. Mutiny? But why? He wondered if he could escape the ship without them knowing. He couldn’t leave the lifeboat to lower it by hand without being seen, but he did have his belt knife to cut through the moorings. He just had to hope the currents would take him back to land.
So he began cutting, only stopping his work briefly when one of the sailors passed directly by his hiding spot. He returned to cutting as soon as he dared.
Fortunately, his knife was sharp and cut through in less than a minute. The rope snapped, easily loud enough to alert anyone up above. So Józef grabbed the frayed end and wasted no time in cutting the other side. One of the sailors approached the deck and leaned forward. He briefly made eye contact before Józef broke free. The sailor tried to reach down and grab him, but he was too late.
Józef released the ropes and held on tightly. The lifeboat landed, spraying icy ocean water into his craft. The droplets stung as they hit exposed flesh. He ignored the pain, grabbed the oars, and rowed as fast as he could.
From above, the sailors threw seashine toward his boat, stones similar to luminess, but in a form that floated. Tiny spheres of light lit up the area around his boat, like ornaments on a Solstice tree. A second lifeboat landed in the water nearby, followed by shouts from the sailors as they pointed him out.
He rowed hard and fast, but the sailors gained on him. When he realized he wouldn’t outpace them, he set down his oars and drew his knife.
A sailor from the other lifeboat stopped rowing and faced him. “Prince Brandt, put down the knife.”
He was scared, but he didn’t want to show any weakness. “Never, you treasonous curs! I’ll fight to the death, if I must!”
The sailor cursed. “Brat. We won’t kill you, but if you don’t drop the blasted knife, you’re gonna get a walloping!”
“Rot in the ground!”
The man scowled and removed his own dagger, while his mate rowed closer. Józef positioned himself in a back stance, trying to hold his balance while brandishing his blade.
When the two men were close enough, one of them jumped into his raft, dagger flashing in the light of the seashine. Józef stabbed, but he was unable to maintain his balance. The sailor slapped away his hand and punched his jaw. Before he could steady himself, the sailor struck again, this time with the hilt of his dagger. It struck Józef hard, sending him onto his back, dazed.
The men bound his hands and took him back aboard the ship. He was now at their mercy.