He hesitates for a moment, a shiver running down his spine as he contemplates the message imprinted in his mind: "I hold you." These words echo like a threat, a warning that he can't seem to ignore. He swallows hard, feeling a heavy pressure on his chest. The idea that someone or something might be watching him, waiting for him, following him, haunts him. Somewhere in his mind, a burning question takes shape: who is behind these words? Who, or what, "holds" him?
With almost mechanical caution, he picks up the paper and the seal, his hands trembling despite himself. He gently places them in the box, closing the compartment with contained force, as though by locking it away once more, he could escape this suffocating feeling. But he knows that isn’t the case. The message, though hidden now, continues to haunt him. It's as if the box itself has taken on a form of power over him, a power he can't quite comprehend, but one that undeniably ties him to it.
He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to push back the anxiety rising within him. But even with his eyes closed, the text is there, etched in his memory. "I hold you." The box, now shut, feels even heavier, as if it contains not only objects but also the promise of terrifying revelations. The shadow of an unknown danger hangs over him, and despite his efforts to avoid dwelling on it, he knows he won’t be able to ignore it for long.
With a final worried glance, he places the box back in its usual spot, hiding it from his view for a while. But the fear, it doesn't go away.
Mero slowly rises, careful not to wake Master Antonin or Leila. The morning light, still soft and diffused, begins to fill the room, gradually warming the atmosphere. He tries to push aside the turmoil in his mind, to regain a semblance of calm. He knows it’s time to wake them and continue their journey. It's not haste he seeks, but a renewed determination.
He approaches carefully, first observing Leila. She sleeps peacefully, a serene expression on her face. Master Antonin, on the other hand, seems to be in a light sleep, as usual. The box, however, remains there, silent, a burden he carries alone for now. The message on the parchment, "I hold you," has not stopped haunting him, and the box now seems to be a part of him, like a tangible presence he can’t shake off.
He leans gently to wake them, but he has no answers yet. He knows the quest for this mystery must wait. Perhaps later, in a safer moment, he’ll unravel this secret. But for now, he focuses on the island, the harbor, the boat repairs. This secret, heavy as it is, will wait a little longer, just as it has waited for so long.
However, as they prepare to leave the inn, a dull noise echoes from the roof. At first, it’s just the sound of a few scattered drops, but quickly, it turns into a torrential downpour, beating against the tiles with a hypnotic force. Through the window, Mero watches the streets turn into streams, sweeping away branches, leaves, and discarded bits of paper.
There’s no wind, no lightning. The rain simply falls, heavy and relentless, as if the sky has decided to release all its water at once. The atmosphere is strange, tense, like a calm before something inevitable.
"It looks like we won't be leaving just yet," murmurs Master Antonin, watching the sky from the window. His tone is thoughtful, but without worry. "This island has its whims, and the weather is part of it."
Leila, pragmatic, places a cloth on the windowsill to prevent the water from seeping in any further. She casts a glance at Mero. "Stay inside. The rain may seem harmless, but here, it sometimes hides surprises."
The young sailors, meanwhile, have gathered at the entrance of the inn, watching the surroundings with vigilance. Their tension is palpable, as if they’re waiting for a sign, an imminent change. Perhaps it’s just caution, or perhaps they know more than they let on.
Mero sits by the window, watching puddles form in the alleys below. The island, already mysterious, becomes even more enigmatic in the rain. A question nags at him: is this storm just a caprice of nature, or a sign, a harbinger of trials to come?
Despite the discomfort of being stuck, Master Antonin decides not to waste time. "We have some time before the rain stops. It will be a day of study." They settle in a corner of the inn, away from the young sailors who are passing the time playing cards and singing light songs.
Master Antonin spreads a maritime map on the table and begins placing small wooden tokens on it, representing ships. "Since we're on a pirate island, let’s talk about naval warfare," he says, crossing his arms.
"What strategies would be most effective in naval combat, Mero?"
Mero thinks for a moment before responding. "It depends on the type of ship and its armament. A fast, light ship will try to harass a heavier one by staying out of its cannon range. A well-armed vessel, on the other hand, will prefer boarding or a cannon duel."
Master Antonin nods. "That's a good analysis. But never forget that the sea itself is a battlefield. The wind, the currents, even today’s rain can play a role in the outcome of a battle. A fleet poorly positioned against the wind becomes vulnerable."
He moves a few tokens on the map, illustrating how some battles were won not by brute force, but by cunning.
Leila, who was listening attentively while working on her sewing, gently interjected. "And the pirates? How do they fight?"
Master Antonin smiled slightly. "Unlike the imperial navies, which follow rigid tactics, the pirates rely on surprise, speed, and fear. They often attack at dawn or in the fog, preferring ambushes to open battles."
Mero, fascinated, lost himself in this discussion, his mind swirling with naval strategies. How could an island like this have remained independent, despite the power of the surrounding fleets? The stories of battles and strategies captivated him. Perhaps one day, he would need them for his own survival... The rain continued to fall, but Mero, absorbed in his thoughts, hardly noticed it anymore.
The maritime strategy lessons blended with historical anecdotes of naval battles, and Master Antonin didn’t just pass on tactics. He enriched his lessons with captivating stories, skillfully mixing strategy and tales of famous battles.
"Let’s take the example of the Battle of the Solmar Strait," he began, tracing a line on the map with his finger. "An imperial fleet of twenty warships faced a coalition of pirates, far greater in number but poorly organized." He placed tokens on the map to represent the forces involved.
"The imperial commander, instead of engaging directly, opted for a ruse. He pretended to retreat towards a narrow passage between two islands. Believing they had trapped their prey, the pirates rushed in... but it was a trap. Ships hidden behind the islands closed in, forcing the pirates to fight in a space where they could no longer maneuver."
Mero studied the map carefully, imagining the chaos of the battle.
Leila, intrigued, asked, "What happened next?"
Master Antonin smiled, pleased with the interest from his students. "Half of the pirate fleet was destroyed or captured. Those who tried to escape were hunted down one by one in the following days. Since that day, no pirate dares sail through that strait."
Mero nodded, impressed. This was not just a demonstration of force but a masterstroke of strategy.
The lessons continued, alternating between stories of famous battles and tactical exercises. Master Antonin challenged the students:
"Imagine you command a fleet, and you must defend a merchant convoy against attackers. What strategy would you adopt?"
Mero thought for a moment before suggesting a defensive formation, with the merchant ships at the center and the warships in a circle around them. Master Antonin listened carefully, then pointed out a weakness:
"Such a circle is too rigid. If the enemy attacks from multiple sides, they can isolate and take down the ships one by one. Let’s try something else…"
The rain continued to fall, but Mero was too absorbed in his lessons to worry about the weather. He already felt that this knowledge would be invaluable to him.
To defend a merchant convoy against attackers, it was crucial to assess the threat by identifying the types of assailants and their capabilities. Preparation included organizing the merchant ships into a tight formation, with armed escorts assigned to protect them. Effective communication between all ships was essential to coordinate defensive actions. Reconnaissance patrols had to be deployed to detect threats in advance, allowing the escorts to position themselves to intercept the attackers. If a threat was detected, the escorts should engage the attackers with long-range weapons to dissuade or neutralize them. Evasive maneuvers, such as changing course or dispersing the ships, could be used to avoid direct engagement. If the situation became critical, reinforcements should be called for, and evacuation plans prepared. After engagement, it was important to assess the damage and carry out necessary repairs. An analysis of the battles and continuous crew training were essential to improve future strategies. By following these steps, the safety of the merchant convoy could be maximized, and the risk of successful attacks minimized, Mero said, recalling a passage from a book he had read last month.
Master Antonin listened attentively, a appreciative smile on his lips. When Mero finished, he nodded slowly.
"Very good, Mero. You’ve covered nearly all the crucial aspects of a successful maritime defense. Your ability to structure your thoughts and anticipate the different phases of an attack is remarkable. It’s an excellent foundation for a defensive strategy."
He moved closer to the map and repositioned a few tokens.
"However, I would caution you against overconfidence in reconnaissance patrols. They can be effective, but they also expose the scouts to isolated danger. It’s important to find a balance. Also, if the attackers have superior numbers or strength, it may be better to prioritize retreat or negotiation rather than engage in a risky battle."
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
He paused, looking Mero in the eyes.
"What you’ve just described shows that you’ve understood an essential truth of maritime strategy: it’s not always about winning, but surviving with the least possible losses."
Leila, who had been listening in silence, timidly spoke up:
"But what if the attackers use unconventional tactics, like hiding among neutral ships or attacking at night?"
Master Antonin smiled at this question.
"Excellent point, Leila. That’s why crew training is as important as the tactics themselves. A well-trained crew will be able to quickly adapt to unforeseen situations. This is where the importance of good discipline and a clear chain of command becomes crucial."
Mero reflected on his words, realizing that strategy was not just about the patterns drawn on a map. It was a living art, made up of adaptation and decision-making under pressure.
Master Antonin placed a hand on Mero’s shoulder.
"Keep reading and thinking the way you do, Mero. Knowledge is a precious weapon, and you seem to have grasped its value."
Her recognition fills Mero with pride, and he promises himself to continue his studies with even more seriousness.
The break bell rings, and Mero approaches some of the young young sailors who are playing dice. He asks them if he can join.
The young young sailors look at him in surprise, exchange a fleeting glance, and then confer with each other. One of them, a boy with freckles on his face, shrugs and signals for Mero to sit.
"If you know how to play, why not," he says, throwing the dice onto the wooden deck of the inn.
Mero takes a seat, observing the rules of the game. They are using small dice carved from bone, and the goal seems to be to achieve a specific combination to win the bets placed in the center. The stakes are modest: a few buttons, a piece of sturdy rope, a copper needle… treasures for young young sailors.
"What’s your bet?" asks another sailor, a taller boy with a tarnished silver earring.
Mero thinks for a moment. He doesn’t want to seem like he’s showing off his position, but he still wants to be taken seriously.
"This coin," he says, pulling out a copper coin stamped with the Empire’s crest. It’s not much to him, but for them, it’s a reasonable sum.
The young young sailors exchange a look, then nod. The game can begin.
The dice roll across the wooden floor, making a sharp sound before stopping. One of the young young sailors grumbles when he sees his result, while another gives a cry of satisfaction.
"Ha! Three full faces, I take the lead!" exclaims the youngest, a boy with messy black hair.
It’s Mero’s turn. He takes the dice in his hand and throws them.
First roll: 4 and 2.
An average score, neither good nor bad. The young young sailors laugh as they see his neutral reaction.
"Not your lucky day, but don’t worry, maybe you’ll make up for it," says the boy with the earring.
While the dice continue to spin between the players' hands, Mero starts a conversation.
"Do you play often?"
"Yeah, whenever we can. Passes the time," replies the redhead. "But on the ship, we can’t let the officers see us, or we’ll get a scolding."
"It’s not that bad, as long as we’re not betting anything too important," adds another.
Mero nods. The game continues, and he tries another throw.
Second roll: 6 and 5.
A good roll this time! The young young sailors whistle in admiration.
"Well, looks like you're lucky, sir! Another throw like that, and you’ll take the pot!"
The atmosphere is light. The young young sailors treat him more like one of their own, without too much formality. They continue playing while discussing ships, ports they’ve visited, and stories they’ve heard about this pirate island.
Third roll: 3 and 2.
A poor score. The young young sailors snicker as they see Mero lose his advantage.
"Looks like luck’s abandoned you, sir!" jokes the youngest.
"It happens, no big deal," Mero replies with a shrug.
The game goes on for a few more minutes, until one of the young young sailors, the one with the earring, wins with a final spectacular throw. He raises his arms in victory amidst the mocking protests of the others.
"You cheated, admit it!" says the redhead, feigning outrage.
"Me? Never! I’m just blessed by the gods, that’s all," he replies with a sly grin.
The mood remains relaxed. Mero has managed to integrate into the group without drawing too much attention. They chat a bit more about ships, dangerous maneuvers they’ve seen at sea, and the worst storms they’ve faced.
He stays seated with them, listening to their stories while absentmindedly tossing the dice.
One of the young young sailors, a boy with short black hair, leans toward him and asks:
"Hey, sir, you’re a noble, right? Why are you hanging out with us?"
The others fall silent for a moment, curious to hear his answer.
Mero smiles, recalling his conversations with Master Antonin and the rules imposed by his nurse. He answers, carefully choosing his words:
"Master Antonin always gives me lessons when I talk to him, and my nurse is only allowed to speak to me if necessary. And since you’re almost the same age as me, I’d rather get to know you. Maybe one day, one of you will become a captain, and I’ll need him, or if I need trustworthy young sailors, I’ll have you."
The young sailors exchange surprised glances, and then one of them, the freckled boy, smiles.
"Well, you're not like the other nobles. Usually, they don’t even look at us."
Another, more skeptical, crosses his arms.
"Yeah, but how do we know you won’t look down on us once you’ve got a real ship and rank?"
"I prefer to work with those I trust. In the nobility, it’s all about competition among us, and to beat the others, you need trustworthy men and women. If we manage to be friends, once my studies are done, you won’t have to worry about food."
The young sailors seem touched by his response. The freckled one slowly nods, while the more skeptical one seems to think for a moment.
"That’s serious," he finally says with a smile. "I’ve heard nobles talk like that before, but none of them ever really did it." He pauses. "Well, you’re different. We’ll see."
The others whisper among themselves, seemingly impressed by his approach. The youngest one, a boy with scattered black hair, gives him an admiring look.
"If you keep your promises, we’ll have enough to eat for the rest of our lives," he laughs. "I’ll trust you, for my part."
The dice roll again, and the game resumes. The atmosphere is a bit more relaxed, and Mero senses that he’s gained a bit of respect, at least for now. They’re not yet loyal allies, but they seem open to the idea of a future partnership.
The game continues, and the mood becomes more laid-back as the conversation flows between dice rolls. The tension from earlier gradually fades away, replaced by laughter and jokes between the young sailors. With each round, Mero notices small signs of camaraderie, like shared smiles when he pulls off a good move or approving looks when he respects the rules, even if it’s not always about winning.
The youngest sailor, the one with messy black hair, finally shares a story about one of his former captains.
"This captain," he says, "he wasn’t like the others. He had a way of managing his crew that I’d never seen before. No distinction between nobles and young sailors. Everyone was equal, yet we listened to him more than anyone."
"How did he do that?" asks another sailor, curious.
"He’d take us all ashore every time we docked, for a day of rest. No distinctions, no nobles hiding in their quarters. We were all equal, all free." He smiles as he recalls the memories. "He was... a real leader."
Mero realizes that these young sailors, despite their conditions, have a different view on hierarchy and loyalty than the one he’s known. This captain earned their respect in a way that wasn’t just about promises of food or wealth, but through true solidarity.
They keep playing for a long while, with laughter ringing out around them. Trust is slowly built, hour after hour.
Mero seizes the moment to delve deeper into this intriguing story.
"This captain you’re talking about..." he begins, leaning forward on his hands to listen more closely, "he really seemed different from the others. You said he treated everyone equally. But deep down, how did he handle authority? Because, you know, it’s not enough to just say we’re equal for it to work. Men respect a leader for his ability to lead, not just through his actions, but also his decisions."
The young sailors look at him attentively, surprised by his question. The young sailor with messy black hair, the one who told the story, nods his head.
"That’s true. He didn’t have a loud voice or a threatening look. But every decision he took made sense. For example, he always held a meeting before we left port. He’d talk to us about the dangers we might face, the opportunities, what he expected from us. But he didn’t act like a man waiting for orders. He acted like an equal, and he explained everything to us."
He pauses, as if reliving those moments in his mind.
"The craziest thing was that we never knew if he’d make a tough decision on his own, or if he’d ask us what we thought. He’d involve us in the decisions, listen to us, but when it was time to make a call, he knew where he was going. We knew he’d thought it through. He didn’t let emotions sway him."
Another, one of the oldest young sailor interrupts with a sly smile.
"And sometimes, he’d have us work together, instead of dividing us by rank. It brought the whole crew together. Nobles were on the same team as the young sailors, everyone worked side by side. No one had privileges, and everyone had a chance to show what they were worth."
Mero ponders for a moment, observing the enthusiasm with which they speak of this captain. This man, almost paradoxically, managed to impose strict discipline without ever stifling his men’s initiative.
"And you," he asks, "do you think this kind of management could work today, on a ship like this?"
The young sailors exchange a few glances before the young sailor with messy black hair answers.
"I think so. But it takes time. You have to know how to listen, and most importantly, know when to be tough and when to let go. It’s not easy. That’s why you don’t find captains like him very often."
Mero nods thoughtfully. Maybe this captain taught him something important, a lesson he could apply in the future.
Mero straightens up slightly, his expression thoughtful, and begins to speak in a calm voice:
"In my country, there’s a story we often tell about a legendary sailor, a man of great perseverance. His name was Eryck, and he served under Captain Kod, the very first to successfully circumnavigate the globe, at a time when such an undertaking seemed impossible. Captain Kod wasn’t like the others. He was a man of action, not just strategy."
A brief silence settles, the young sailors hanging on his words. The youngest one, the one with messy black hair, looks at Mero with particular attention.
"Eryck, this sailor, didn’t have the experience or talents of the other crew members at first. Just an iron determination. Captain Kod noticed that right away. Instead of sending him to do the grunt work, like was customary, he took him under his wing. He taught him navigation, cartography, and even diplomacy with the peoples they encountered at sea."
A few of the young sailors smile, captivated by the story.
"After several years, Eryck had become a seasoned sailor, leading a group of men under Captain Kod’s command. They had crossed raging oceans, braved seemingly insurmountable storms. But Captain Kod, instead of issuing blind orders, always explained the reasoning behind his decisions. He involved his men in the process."
Mero pauses, watching their reactions.
"Of course, not everything was a string of victories. On one journey to an unknown island, their ship was damaged by a rock. Captain Kod could’ve ordered them to continue anyway, but he chose to turn back, repair the ship, and care for his men. Once the storm passed, they resumed their course. When they finally arrived on the island, he declared: 'It’s better to lose a day than to lose a man.' This saying became a principle among the sailors."
The young sailors sit in silence, their faces shadowed by reflection. Despite their young age, they already understand the value of life and the concept of sacrifice.
"Eryck became a legend in our country. Not just for his exploits at sea, but because he learned to give meaning to every action. He understood that loyalty and trust aren’t something you decree. They’re built."
Mero watches them, attentive to their reactions. The young sailors exchange looks, some clearly thoughtful, others slightly impressed.
The shy-smiling sailor finally speaks up, hesitating:
"I think that’s kind of what they’re trying to teach us here, right? But... it’s not always easy. Sometimes we don’t have a choice. The Captain and the officers tell us to follow orders, so we do as we’re told."
An older sailor, whose beard is beginning to show, nods gravely.
"A good captain makes all the difference. But sometimes, following orders means facing sacrifices. You can’t be afraid to lose yourself to save others."
The youngest sailor, enthusiastic, turns to Mero:
"That’s how we become young sailors, right? Not just by following orders, but by understanding why we follow them. It’s the spirit of the crew."
They seem to reflect, absorbed by the idea of forging strong bonds and learning from their mistakes. The sailor who started the discussion finally smiles:
"I think we can be both good young sailors and good men if we learn to help each other, like in your story. You don’t just chase after glory. And maybe, one day, we’ll be captains ourselves."