Lulled by the sway of the waves and calmed by the smell of salt, I sit content on the deck of the ship. My ship.

I gaze at the setting sun and should feel exhausted, especially after this latest expedition, yet it is here that I feel most awake, aware of every ripple in the sails and every creak of the rigging on the ship. My ship.

After taking a deep breath, I finally stand. I move over the wooden deck and past the few crewmates still above awake at this time, all the way to the bow of the ship. My ship.

From here I look across the endless ocean before me. I look at the fleeting sunlight scattered across the great blue expanse and marvel at in its beauty. The ocean that I never tire to see. My ocean.

With the weariness of the journey finally catching up to me, I move to the back of the ship and into my quarters.

A room that could be considered small in comparison to those on some larger, more extravagant ships. But it is mine.

It contains a small lounge in one corner of the room, coincidentally right next to my liquor cabinet, though I rarely open it apart from when I have guests.

Another corner of the room is dedicated to my changing area, housing all of my clothes, weapons and other possessions. Like the rest of the room, none of my possessions are particularly valuable or flashy, with the exception of a single set of clothes I use for formal occasions.

Fitting the general sparsity of the room is my bed. Comfortable sure, but not much to look at and just big enough to comfortably fit two people on it.

The last feature of the room is a neglected dining area which merely contains an old wooden table and a couple of neglected chairs. A thick layer of dust covers the whole thing, as I prefer to eat with the rest of my crew rather than in solitude.

Somewhere on the way to my bed I lost both of my boots and most of my clothing, before flopping onto it face first. Quickly slipping into a pleasant sleep.

Once I awaken, I feel refreshed, ready for another day at sea.

It should be less than a week before we get back to port and offload our latest spoils.

Instead of getting up, I just lie there and listen to the familiar sounds, just like every other day.

“OY! Get your arse down from there!

Does this ship look like a damn climbing frame!?! Just ‘coz you’re as ugly as a monkey, doesn’t mean you ‘ave to act like one!

I swear, if I catch you up there again I’ll ‘ave to nail you to the damn deck!”

Ah, the usual sound of my first mate verbally flaying the crew.

Hmm. Perhaps I should eventually get up. Eventually.

Almost an hour later I decide to stretch my legs and get some fresh air.

As I open my plain cabin door and walk out into the open, my first mate bellows out.

“Capt’n on deck!!!”

All of the crew present on deck turn to me and shout in unison “”Y’late you lazy dog!” Something which started as a joke about my sleeping habits, but then developed into tradition amongst the crew.

“Aye, I’m late but I hear you lot are climbing around like monkeys, can’t tie a knot good enough to hang yourselves with and don’t know what common sense is if it hit you in the face! And I assure you, something WILL be hitting you in the face at this rate.

So congratulations. Seems like today is above average for you useless ship rats!” I jeer back at them, and am met with a hearty cheer.

“Alright! ‘ow long are you buffoons gunna slack on ye’ duties!

Get back to work!” The first mate shouts back to the crew, sending menacing glares towards anyone too slow for her standards. Which was everyone.

Now with everyone finally looking busy, the monster of a she-orc I have as my first mate stomps over to me.

The normally sturdy wooden deck creaking under her huge weight.

Though she is the only female on the crew, she likely could crush anyone here effortlessly.

In fact, I would be surprised if anyone on our crew could match her raw strength at all. And our crew are all seasoned sailors, with many of us being fairly bulky and with history in the military. With me not included among that number, being neither bulky nor experienced in the military.

Possibly one of the reasons for the first mate’s strength lies in her race, which is plainly obvious from her green skin.

An orc.

Though even by their standards, she is a monster.

There aren’t many female sailors in the world, for both fake superstitions reasons and very real risks. Such as certain… restless individuals.

Though it is safe to say she isn’t at risk.

“Capt’n, the cargo is secure and we shall be reachin’ port within 5 days. If the weather stays clear that is.” The first mate says in a deep, heavily accented voice.

“Good stuff, well. Just continue with your business I guess.”

“Yes capt’n Jones.”

As she turns around and is about to walk of, I stop her with a tap on the shoulder.

“Oh, and Hestia. Don’t traumatise the crew too much.” I say with a grin.

Hestia snorts, and replies in her usual gruff voice.

“Just toughening the pansies up, capt’n.!”

I walk off with a sigh, heading back into my cabin for the time being.

I spend the rest of the morning reading in bed. A novel supposedly based on actual historical events, called ‘The rise of the penguin empire.’

Though I doubt the novel to have any historical truth in it, it’s still a fairly good read.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

I finally stop reading once I hear a knock on my door.

“Come in!”

A muscly dwarven crewmember called Garven opens the door, poking his head into the room.

“Cook says dinners ‘bout to be served, and you better get some ‘fore it all gets eaten by us greedy bastards.

His words, not mine.”

“I’ll be right there.” I say while scrambling to put on my boots.

It wouldn’t be the first time my portion is eaten because I’m a little late.

Plus it was Garven who ate it last time. Stupid dwarf and his endless appetite.

I swear half of my food is eaten by him and Hestia alone.

One poor sod once told Hestia she ate too much to her face. It took five people to pull her off him.

Since then, she has always eaten above deck, away from the rest of the crew. Even during heavy storms.

As soon as I get my boots on, I hurry out of my cabin and avoid Hestia, who just came out from below deck with two overflowing plates of food. With both of these large plates being especially made for her… hearty portions. Otherwise she’d have to carry up four plates.

Skirting around the she-orc, I move below deck and am met with a cheer from my crew, who are all sat around a long table nailed into the floor.

I walk past my jeering subordinates, throwing out some light-hearted insults back at the crew.

When I get to the head of the table, I sit down and look at my meal.

Three pieces of hard tack, one chunk of salted meat and a bit of pickled cabbage. Funny, I swore the cook said we were getting two pieces of meat today.

As the crew’s chatter continues, I tuck into the pickled cabbage. Which tastes horrific, but I’d rather eat this than die of scurvy.

It is now that I notice a singular krill under my cabbage. Well, food is food I guess.

The conversation gradually reverts to a common topic; Hestia and how various crewmembers have fallen victim to her ‘cruelty’ today.

I hear a brown-haired wolf-kin called Tharius decide to make a dangerous suggestion.

“Y’know what. I reckon that she’s just pent up is all. Got a lot of that sexual frustration from bein’ at sea for so long.”

Another of the crew responds with a laugh and a similarly toned comment.

“Who’s gunna want to get into a bed with ‘er. Bet that one’s still a maiden an’ all.”

These two comments are met with looks of panic from most of those in the room, including myself, who’s now hiding under the table.

Once the hushed swearing had died down and everyone was certain Hestia didn’t overhear us, I climbed back out from under the table. Once again taking my seat.

“Well, I understand this is the first time the two of you have sailed with us, so I’ll tell you both a story of a past event. The first time one of the crew attempted to lie with the being known as Hestia.” I pause for a moment for dramatic effect, hearing a few gasps from the newer members who haven’t heard this story before.

“Well, on my second expedition as captain of this fine ship, an ex-military sailor named Belain joined. A huge man, who just happened to have a thing for strong women.

And so, on one cold night he attempted to seduce our first-mate.

The next morn’, we found him as a broken man. Wandering the deck muttering of a monster, whilst protectively covering his manhood.”

The wolf-kin from earlier interrupts with a question.

“Wait, so ‘cos he tried to get with her, she crushed ‘is man’ood?”

I let out a wide grin at the beastman and slowly shake my head.

“Oh no. Not at all.

In fact, turns out that Hestia had her eye on him all along. So she was very eager.

The poor sailor was bruised all over and was so traumatised by the experience that he wandered off when we got to the next port. Never to be seen again.

The only comment I got from the she-orc was, ‘Shame, I quite enjoyed myself’.

He was the first and last of our crew to try sleeping with her.”

My story sends a ripple of fear through those present. Likely imagining the horror poor Belain went through that night.

Gesturing towards the wolf-kin, I tease.

“If you really believe our first mate’s cold heart is due to a lack of sex, how about you fix that yourself.

You have a working member, no?”

Tharius gives a sheepish grin and meekly responds.

“Ha, perhaps I was wrong. There surely mus’ be another reason for her temper.”

With the intent to scare him a little further, I comment.

“I agree.

After all, if Hestia ever felt sexually frustrated, she’d simply pick someone, drag them off and fuck them like an animal. Whether they want to or not.

If she forced herself upon you, do you think you could stop her?”

The beastman freezes upon hearing my words. I think he may be having nightmares from now on, but at least he’ll follow Hestia’s orders more diligently.

I finish my meal, occasionally making a contribution to the ongoing conversation here and there. Nothing too interesting.

Once I’ve dropped of my plate in the kitchen, I move towards the end of the ship.

Our cargo hold.

Though other than food and some odd supplies, it only has one item.

The artefact recovered from Nosterius isle, which translates to ‘Isle of Sorrows’.

This artefact is known as, ‘The Blood King’s Crown’.