Unlike the "Defector," our galley doesn't have an Air mage of the Precious Coil onboard, so our small ship doesn't hurry forward but sways rhythmically on the weak waves of the barely noticeable morning breeze. When the elf's carrack was more than half a kilometer away, the fog, which had been swirling in the center of the galley, dissipated, and I saw the former slaves still ready to fight. Cristo was the only one out of step with their formation, simply sitting against the ship's side, curiously gazing into the distance.
A sharp gust of wind blew away the remnants of the alchemical fog, and the rebels quickly spotted me. Most importantly, they saw that I was standing alone at the galley's bow, and the attackers had vanished without a trace. The natural fog, like its alchemical counterpart, had also lost its former density and was now barely swirling at the surface of the water, like weak steam rising from the waves. Still, its wisps were enough to hide the "Defector" from the gaze of those at the stern of the galley. Even from the bow, I could barely make out the outline of the departing carrack, and that was only because I had focused to the maximum on my Perception aura.
My nerves were taut, like a tightrope. I kept waiting, wondering if a "Fireball" might fly out of the fog or if a swirl characteristic of an "Air Tornado" might form above the galley. Despite having spent several weeks side by side with Larindel, I still couldn't predict his actions. When I negotiated with the elf, I understood that he saw me as a mine of unknown design, but the reverse was also true. The Sidhe half-blood was too impulsive and could do anything, completely disregarding the consequences. Among the two of us, the real mine was the captain of the "Defector."
If someone had asked me an hour ago, "What would you choose: to meet Larindel with the chance to demand a debt from him or never to encounter the elf again?" I would have chosen the second option without hesitation - never meeting him. But fate had decided otherwise, and I would need to say a prayer to Ishia, who in local mythology was also considered one of the patrons of luck. I was incredibly lucky that everything ended the way it did. Apparently, the elf had got up on the right side of the bed today and was surprisingly prudent, not his usual impulsive and unpredictable self. But I knew perfectly well that our meeting could have gone differently, not according to such a peaceful scenario if the Sidhe half-blood hadn't been in the mood.
However, I shouldn't downplay my own merits, as I played well on the elf's guilt, even though he temporarily took the initiative in our dialogue. Sidhe half-bloods are driven more by their feelings than by cold reason, and I managed to press the right emotional buttons. But the elf's mood is as changeable as the morning weather, and he could become angry about losing the artifact ring and vent this anger towards the galley at any moment.
The thought of the artifact made me lift my palm and examine the ring. Yes, you can't buy something like this in the archipelago. The base of it is a Tear of God. A small, "grey" Tear, but only the manifestation of divinity in our material plane can serve as the basis for something like this seemingly unremarkable ring. Tears can only be found in the five Inverted Towers and nowhere else, and even finding such a small one is a huge stroke of luck for many Pentapolis tunnellers.
Although the ring looked plain, a knowledgeable person would easily identify the purpose of the artifact at first glance from its pattern. Obeying a sudden intuition, I focused and, turning to Illusion magic, "filled" the Lightning pattern on the ring with silver, thereby hiding it from the gaze of others, and gave the Tear the appearance of a regular small amethyst. Of course, any spellcaster would feel the magic on the ring, but it would now not be so easy for an outsider to determine the artifact's purpose.
Until now, I had not been able to use Illusions this way, but this time everything went smoothly. I acted following my intuition, and the magic seemed to take its place on its own, like a living thing. True, I will now have to constantly maintain this Illusion, dedicating a part of my Magic Core to its operation, but this is even better, as it is a good practice. This whole act, applying magic to the ring, took me no more than ten seconds, and I did it just in time, as Cristo approached me as soon as I finished.
"So? How did the negotiations end?" the earthling asked, hiding his nervousness behind apparent relaxation.
"We are alive," I replied briefly.
Cristo gazed into the distance, activating his Perception aura, and noticed the departing "Defector."
"But is it for long?" The helmsman's lips are tight. "From what I've learned, for a Ruby mage, such a distance," he nodded towards the carrack, "is not that big of an obstacle. It's even convenient; at such a range, you can cast anything you want without worrying about harming yourself."
"You seem to have an inclination for mental magic." I smiled.
"What?" The earthling didn't understand me.
"I'm saying you read my thoughts." I translated my words into something more understandable to him.
"So I am right!" Cristo exclaimed quite unhappily. "And what can we do about it?"
"About it?" This time I didn't understand him.
"Well, if your Larindel launches something destructive at us..."
"Nothing." I crushed his hopes. "Unless we jump overboard before something like a 'Fireball' reaches the galley."
"Sounds like a plan!" Not at all flustered, even a little cheered up, Cristo quietly exclaimed and sat down on the side next to me, keeping his gaze on the departing "Defector." After about twenty seconds of silence, he added, "I was wondering why you were staring into the distance; now I get it."
Assessing the distance to the "Defector," which was already about a kilometer, I waited for Cristo to get comfortable, taking the best spot for observation, stretched with great pleasure, and jumped off the bow superstructure.
"Where are you going?" The earthling was immediately startled.
"Why do we need two observers?" Hiding a smile, I replied. "You just shout if anything happens."
At the same time, I didn't tell him that we had already moved far enough away from the "Defector" to get out of the range of spells available at the Ruby rank. Of course, there is always the possibility that the elf has something stored up from the inscribed magic, like the same "Fire Tornado" of Itildine rank. But I highly doubted that even such an expressive personality as the half-blood would spend such a precious thing on such an occasion. Although, when it comes to elves, you can never be sure of anything.
Yes, I deliberately left Cristo to gaze into the distance and fret about every gust of wind that would stir up the fog rising above the waves. It was my little revenge for him nearly ruining the negotiations with Larindel because of his curiosity. It's good that I understood everything correctly then and responded in time and properly, but everything could have gone according to a much worse scenario. I know my action was petty, but when I jumped onto the rowing half-deck, I was genuinely smiling inside.
When the gaze of all the rebels ones converged on me, I demonstratively shifted the spear shaft onto the bend of my elbow, showing that they could relax, and shouted:
"Cease combat alert!"
"What?" Someone from the former slaves didn't understand me.
"He's saying there won't be a fight." Huran snapped at this question, somehow relaxed and tired.
And then he immediately set an example for the rest by putting his sword in its sheath, after which he jumped off the stern elevation to me. He was followed by Duar, after whom Aun jumped too. The boatswain looked irritably and a bit angrily at the merchant's son but said nothing to him.
"Was that the 'Defector'? Wasn't it?" The new captain of the galley asked me.
This question is understandable: from the stern, they couldn't see what ship was attacking us because of the fog.
"Yes," I answered tersely and shrugged.
"I recognized Shansi Lun." Huran nodded. "We're not acquainted, but I've seen him a few times at the marketplaces of some cities."
"Did they attack us because of you?" At these words, Duar's eyes narrowed into slits like loopholes.
I lazily turned to Duar, the boatswain, who had already gotten into several scrapes with me, and, barely holding back from making rude gestures, took a deep breath and responded, addressing not him but the captain:
"We should hoist some kind of noticeable neutral flag."
"Why?!" Duar roared in response, annoying Huran, as I wasn't addressing the boatswain.
"Because this galley is quite distinctive." I began to explain slowly, with carefully placed intonations, as if to a small child, "Many know her in these waters."
Duar listened attentively while the captain and Aun started hiding smiles at my words. They understood that I was talking to the boatswain as if he were a fool. The fact that Duar didn't notice this nuance added spice to the situation.
"This galley even has such a name, 'Bloody Wave'."
"And?" When I fell silent, the boatswain uttered, frowning.
"Raven is right," the captain, turning to Duar, said. "This galley is easily recognizable, and any military ship will immediately attack us as soon as they see it. Tongar Vano had a certain reputation in these waters."
"And a bounty on his head." The boatswain quickly remembered this and nodded joyfully.
"And a bounty on his head," Huran confirmed, adopting my intonations in his conversation with the boatswain. "That is, any captain of a combat ship, noticing our silhouette, will immediately attack. And we don't have a full set of rowers to escape the chase."
"That's true." Frowning, the boatswain looked around anxiously.
"When we were sorting out the looted goods," Aun interjected, "we saw a large blue bed cover."
"Go on." Huran nodded at him with interest.
"Blue is the color of Ishia, the color of peace among people. I can draw the symbol of the minor goddess on this cover." The boy faltered a little here and blushed. "This, of course, will ruin the item, and it won't be sellable. But it will be a visible symbol, and at least they'll talk to us before they attack."
After thinking for a few seconds, Huran smiled and, patting the boy on the shoulder, briefly commanded:
"Execute!"
I could have interfered and mentioned that the blue color of the flag would blend in with the sky and would be poorly visible from a distance, but I decided not to. Aun's thought was quite sound, and such a flag wouldn't hurt either way.
"Twenty silvers," Duar muttered, staring at the back of the merchant's son, who was bent over one of the chests.
"What?" The galley's captain didn't understand his remark.
"I remember that cover," with a heavy sigh as if someone was pressing on his chest[1], the boatswain replied. "It could be sold in the market of Tries for at least twenty silvers."
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
"Do you think your life is not worth that money?" Huran growled at him angrily, seemingly getting irritated by the boatswain's pathological greed.
"That's not what I meant." Duar turned away and walked over to Aun, but we heard him muttering. "But twenty silvers are twenty silvers!"
"We have to endure him for a day or two." When the boatswain walked away from us, the captain quietly said, shaking his head. "Just don't clash with him earlier," Huran asked me. "No matter how penny-pinching Duar might be, he is a brave warrior and has saved many of our lives. Though I admit he is irritating and confrontational, try not to pay attention to him."
"I will." I also didn't need this conflict.
"So the 'Defector' attacked us, recognizing the 'Bloody Wave' in the galley?" The captain asked me.
"Correct." I answered and explained, "Larindel sometimes amuses himself by hunting pirates, especially when they sail into his hands themselves."
"Before you boarded, you mentioned that you worked for this Sidhe half-blood."
"Yes, I did, but we had disagreements and ended our cooperation." I didn't hide, describing the situation in general terms.
"Alright." Spreading his hands apart, Huran tiredly said. "I'm glad you're with us, and everything ended the way it did. I won't even ask what you did to earn such a reputation that even Shansi Lun fled upon seeing you."
At this point, he looks at me curiously as if he's expecting me to spill all my secrets. Maybe such an approach would work on someone else, but not with me, and so, I shrug and reply:
"Thank you."
A flicker of annoyance crosses the captain's face at my words, but it's just a flicker. The seasoned warrior quickly suppresses the irritation, gives me a curt nod, then turns towards the stern and starts giving orders.
After watching for about a minute how he orders the crew to remove their armor and get on with their usual tasks, I head over to Aun. The young man has already found the fabric he needs, pulled it from the chest, and is now searching for something else.
"What are we looking for?" I ask, crouching down next to him.
"There was a gift calligraphy set here somewhere." Without turning around and continuing his search, the youth answers. "It had a broad brush and a bottle of ink."
After fumbling around a bit longer, he soon pulls a beautifully decorated, large, lacquered box from one of the chests. He glances around, sees that Duar isn't watching him, and opens the pricey-looking gift set. With a thieving gesture, he pulls out a large brush and ink, then puts the box back before the bosun notices what he's done.
"He'd eat me alive for using such an expensive item like this." Interpreting my raised eyebrow correctly, the young man whispers an explanation for his actions. Then he looks at the folded blue fabric, then at me, and shyly asks, "Could you help? I can't handle it on my own."
"It's no trouble." I smile openly and help him unroll the cover.
Besides, I really needed something to do to avoid attracting undue attention. It worked. Even when Cristo, after he had left his "post" at the bow and now was returning to the steering oar, wanted to approach me, he saw that I was busy, simply gave me a thumbs up, and went up to the aft deck. When Aun had drawn about half of Ishia's Symbol, he stopped, massaged his hands, and looked up at me. He clearly wanted to ask something but didn't dare, and I nodded at him. Interpreting my movement correctly, the youth immediately asked:
"Why did the boarding party of the 'Defector' escape from you, Master Raven? They ran away from you specifically, not from our formation. Why?"
I didn't want to answer that question, so with a smile, I told the young man:
"The less you know, the better you sleep."
The boy had clearly never heard this saying before and paused for a moment to grasp what I'd just said. Then, silently, he picked up his brush and resumed working on the symbol. But a few minutes later, he put the calligraphy tool aside, shook his head, and said:
"I understood the meaning of the words, 'The less you know, the better you sleep'!" He raised the brush in his hand. "But! The deepest sleep is the sleep of death, meaning this saying also implies that one who knows nothing is close to 'sleeping forever'!"
I'd never thought about this saying in such a way, and it was my turn to be taken aback by the guy's words. And the more I thought about the merchant's son's interpretation, the more I realized he was right. The lad surprised me! I had used this phrase countless times, but he, hearing it for the first time, found a new interpretation in it. Aun, however, misunderstood my silence and contemplation and got back to work.
In my opinion, the youth took this task too seriously. He simply needed to draw something that resembled Ishia's Symbol from afar, but he set about it with true calligraphic zeal. While the merchant's son was busy with this, I pretended to help him.
Meanwhile, the lookout spotted land. Cristo immediately switched the steering oar, and Huran put six members of the new crew on the oars to assist with turning the galley. This simple trick allowed the ship to turn almost on the spot. Then the earthling, commanding from the stern, set the sail in the proper position, and the galley took off nearly due north at a surprisingly brisk pace for such light wind.
The new captain picked out five of the lightest and thinnest crew members and questioned them, finding out who among them was the best at Perception aura. Then, he selected an observer from this group and sent him to the top of the mast with orders to keep an eye on the horizon and shout if he spotted a foreign sail.
By that time, Aun had completed his work. We stretched the fabric on the deck to see how well the symbol of the minor goddess was visible. Satisfied with what we saw, we hung what was originally intended to be bed linen as a flag. Fuun's modest powers and knowledge of Air magic were enough to ensure that the fabric didn't hang limply but fluttered and was always unfurled, and the symbol on it was visible from both sides.
Appreciating Aun's calligraphy skills, Huran seemed to have thought of something and sat the young man down to write a text that he began to dictate. I listened in as I walked by. The captain was dictating a formal report for the record, which he apparently intended to hand over to the coast guard later. A smart move indeed. The more I observe Huran, the more I respect the man. The former guard of the Trade League did not break down in slavery and knew how to command people. He's got his wits about him too, and, as far as I can judge, he is not going to stop at Steel like Ender and will at least reach Wootz. And he'll do it quite soon. But I might be wrong about the last point.
Not wanting to annoy the captain with the obvious observation of his actions, I went up to the stern, where I was intercepted by Cristo. I had to talk to the earthling, who was trying all sorts of things, wanting to pry from me the details of why the boarding party of the "Defector" had run away, flashing their heels, as soon as they saw me. Since I had decided not to quarrel with him, I had to answer evasively, turning everything into a joke. More accurately, I tried to do that, but after half an hour, I just told him straight out that it was rude and presumptuous to pry so blatantly into someone else's life and that for doing that, one might get hurt. Since Cristo had no complaints about his memory and remembered perfectly well who had recently broken his nose, the helmsman ceased his inquiries after such a rebuff.
All this time, I was not just listening to his questions - we also didn't forget about our training. He continued to teach me lock-picking, and I taught him Illusion. But when the galley began to sail along the coastline at a distance of about a couple of kilometers from the shore, Cristo became too busy steering. He was constantly shouting back and forth with two lookouts, one on the bow and another on the mast, and depending on what he heard from them, he would slightly turn the steering oar. To assist in the navigation, Huran placed six people on the rowing benches again. The other members of the new crew, under Duar's leadership, continued to clean the ship. To avoid ending up among the cleaners or rowers, I joined the healer. I also asked about the condition of that injured man over whom I had been casting the "Lesser Healing" spell for so long.
"I'm afraid we can't do anything anymore," Fuun replied with regret but without particular sorrow. "We'll try to take him to a more qualified healer when we arrive in Tries, but I don't think anyone can help him at all." And spreading his hands, he added, "Head injuries, they're like that."
The rest of those who were injured in the fight for liberation had long since gotten back on their feet and were engaged in general work. Healing magic is an incredibly effective thing. I asked Fuun a bit more, hoping to learn something new, but he refused, saying he was a bad teacher.
After about another fifteen minutes of idling, I ended up asking to be put on the rowing bench myself. The steady muscle work calmed my nerves and even put me into a strange state of semi-sleep. I seemed to be not sleeping, working with a rather heavy oar, following Cristo's commands, but at the same time, my mind was as if in an echoing void.
Once, in the life I had on Earth, I liked to rent a rowing boat in the summer and go out on the lake. But a galley oar is many times longer, bulkier, and not as convenient as a regular boat one, and managing it is quite hard work. However, due to my "Enhanced Body" and Bronze rank, I hardly felt tired from this occupation. Unlike other rebels who were periodically replaced, I remained a permanent rower. Heck! I even liked it! I caught myself thinking that I'd rather be rowing and rowing like this, not thinking about anything, than straining my every nerve and trying to prevent the imminent invasion of demons. From the outside, this probably seemed absurd, but if I had a choice of whom to be, I would choose the job of a rower rather than the path of a hero. Although, maybe it was just my overall emotional stress speaking, and I wouldn't last long in such a job, soon howling at Seguna of boredom. Such rather sluggish thoughts, like thick syrup, barely flowed in my head, struggling to break through the single rhythm:
"Heave! One! Two! Three!"
This went on for probably six hours, if not more. I was jerked out of this strange and, in some ways, pleasantly sticky semi-forgetfulness by a sharp cry from the lookout at the top of the mast.
"Sail! From the northeast!"
This shout immediately set everyone in motion. Following Huran's command, our sail was quickly lowered to make the galley harder to spot, the cleaning was also stopped, and all the freed people sat at the oars. Under Cristo's management, the galley veered and almost "stuck" to the shore, going just a hundred or so meters from the coastal cliffs. This made our ship even harder to spot from the open sea. And all these actions, apparently, worked because the sail spotted by the lookout just passed by. Or maybe it was a regular merchant who was going his own route; who knows?
Nevertheless, we continued on, almost brushing against the shoreline. This was due to the fact that the closer we got to Tries, the more intense the traffic of ships in these waters became. After the first noticed sail, we avoided four more such encounters, but the fifth ship spotted us and, making a sharp turn, went in for an intercept.
"Galley." The mast-top lookout shouted. "Two masts. Slanted sails. Twice the size of us."
The news that a galley was pursuing us was not the best, as traders do not use this type of ship. Galleys require a lot of rowers, and they carry little cargo; this type of vessel is mainly used for war.
"Is its bow sharp or rounded?" One of the fishermen asked.
"I can't see yet." The lookout responded but, after a couple of minutes, added, "Rounded, and the sails are green with a blue stripe!"
"Coast Guard?" Huran asked the fisherman who had voiced the question.
"No," the fisherman shook his head, "they have white sails; this is likely the patrol of the Southern Fleet of Tries." And he sighed heavily, adding. "They won't ask questions. They will burn us with magic from a distance as soon as they recognize us as the 'Bloody Wave'."
"I hope they'll see our flag before they start burning us." Aun loudly commented upon hearing his words, and this argument from the young man reassured many.
"Fuun!" Our captain addressed the doctor. "How many 'Fireballs' can you deflect?"
"None!" The doctor sadly smiled. "I'm a healer, not a battle mage. Besides, according to regulations, there should be at least one mage of Wootz on a war fleet galley; I can't compete with them at my Bronze."
"Wootz?" Huran perked up a bit. "That means they would have to get closer than fifty steps to use fire magic. At that distance, they will definitely see our flag."
We didn't try to escape; it was unrealistic without a full crew, but we didn't drift either, just kept our course, as if we didn't notice the war galley intercepting us. It was getting closer every minute, and soon I was able to see the color of the sails and the blue diagonal line on them.
The captain of the Tries Southern Fleet galley clearly knew his job. The ship under his command barely maneuvered because the correct course to intercept us was initially set. I was ready to speed up rowing, but no such order was given. Running indeed was pointless, as the pursuer was clearly faster. For nearly an hour, we were all on edge. I was even prepared to jump overboard as soon as I saw the use of Fire magic. My plan was to swim to shore unnoticed, using the side of our galley as cover. This would mean sacrificing my chainmail, but life is more valuable.
Gloomy thoughts were exacerbated by the fact that nearly thirty fully armed fighters were lined up along the side of the galley that was chasing us. Among them, five battle mages stood out. This did not bode well for us. They definitely saw our flag, it was impossible not to at this distance, but they seemed to pay it no attention. The space between the two galleys was shrinking: a hundred meters, ninety, eighty, seventy... Every second seemed to eat up the distance separating us. Sixty, fifty...
If Huran is right, everything will be decided now! I pulled my legs, preparing to jump overboard. But instead of a volley of Fireballs, the war galley sharply slowed down, veered slightly, and came alongside us, matching our speed. The tension was so great that even the hairs on the back of my head stirred. It felt as if an experienced predator had decided to play with its prey before attacking.
Huran could shout to them that we are not pirates, but it seemed that our captain had forgotten he had a tongue, and the others didn't dare to speak out. This silent passage of two ships at a distance of fewer than fifty steps from each other lasted for about three minutes when suddenly the formation of the enemy was disrupted, and a very young officer stepped forward, scrutinized us with a stern gaze, and then unexpectedly burst into laughter. His guffawing was echoed by the boarding team of the war galley. After the officer had finished laughing, he wiped the emerging tears with a white handkerchief and shouted at us:
"Hey! On the 'Wave'! Scared shitless?! We see!" This caused a new fit of laughter. "Put away your weapons and prepare to receive a search party! And don't shit your pants! Four hours ago, we met the 'Defector,' and we know your story. So, if Maestro Larindel hasn't messed anything up, we won't even kill you!"
[1] TLN: this is a subtle reference to an idiomatic expression, "the toad is choking." As if an invisible toad sits on your chest and interferes with your breathing, and this animal metaphorically resents greed. It is used to describe a feeling of being reluctant or unwilling to spend money or feeling tight-fisted. Webnovel authors love to use this reference in a humorous way, making their characters think something like, "My internal Toad was preparing to hang itself because of such an expenditure, and my Hamster fainted." The Hamster, on the other hand, represents an insatiable urge to hoard things. Most often, you can meet this in numerous LitRPGs.