Before the ship touched land, it stayed at sea, a little off to the side. The captain had gathered the crew on deck, looking serious.

"We have to stop. The last storm has slightly damaged the hull. We'll be on land for the repairs." He paused, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "It's an island with the best boat repairers in the region, but it’s also, and above all, a pirate island. Don't go out unless in groups of at least five. I don't want any trouble, understood?"

The crew nodded in silence. The atmosphere on the deck was tense. A pirate island... This wasn't just a merchant port like the last one. Here, the laws were those of the strongest, the most cunning. And if the captain was warning them, it was because he knew that a single misstep could trigger a conflict.

Master Antonin placed a firm hand on Mero's shoulder.

"You stay with me and Leila. We'll form a group with two experienced sailors. No need to take unnecessary risks."

Mero nodded, but deep inside, a growing excitement took hold of him. A pirate island... What would he discover there? His heart beat faster, though he didn't show it. He couldn't focus on his lessons. Even when trying to concentrate, his mind kept drifting to that mysterious island. He imagined dark alleys full of smugglers, noisy taverns where men told incredible stories, markets where items from all over the world were sold...

"Mero, repeat what I just said," Master Antonin said sternly.

Mero jumped, caught off guard.

"Uh... The dynasties of the kingdom of... of..."

Master Antonin sighed, but a slight smile appeared on his face.

Mero nodded, relieved to escape the rest of the lesson. His mind was already elsewhere, eager to discover what the pirate island hid.

Mero climbed to the lookout to get a closer look at the island, borrowing Master Antonin’s telescope. Once at the top, he steadied the instrument against his eye and scanned the island. It was larger than he had imagined. A dense forest covered the inland, and a few puffs of smoke rose from different spots, likely from camps or isolated homes.

The port, however, was lively. Ships of all sizes were docked, some flying flags with unknown colors. He spotted armed men, some dressed in rags, others wearing richly decorated clothes, though their pirate-like appearance betrayed their status. Everything seemed chaotic, but there was an invisible order that only the locals seemed to understand.

He turned the telescope toward a central square where a crowd had gathered. A man stood on a platform, gesturing and shouting. An auction? A pirate judgment? A distribution of loot?

"What do you see, Mero?" a voice called behind him.

He jumped slightly before seeing Leila, who had followed him quietly.

"A lively... and dangerous city," he said, squinting to get a better look. "A man’s gesturing in the middle of the square. He seems to be shouting something... maybe a speech or an auction. But there are also people fighting, a bit further away."

He handed the telescope to Leila so she could take a look. She adjusted it carefully and observed in silence for a few moments.

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"It looks like a mix of chaos and unspoken rules," she murmured. "Everything’s disorganized, but I bet there’s an underlying order."

Mero nodded thoughtfully. This island seemed fascinating, a world apart with its own codes. Part of him burned with the desire to step ashore and dive into this unique atmosphere. But he remembered the captain's words: No trouble.

"It looks terribly exciting... but also dangerous," he admitted quietly.

Leila stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she handed the telescope back to him.

"Remember, Mero: curiosity is a quality, but recklessness can be fatal."

He kept her words in mind as he continued scanning the island. The turmoil below resembled a disordered dance of light and shadow, both an invitation and a warning.

The rest of the day passed with him observing the island through the telescope, studying its bustling streets, noisy inhabitants, and strange customs. Gradually, he began to distinguish the different groups that made up this eclectic population.

There were sailors, recognizable by their salt- and wind-worn clothes, often negotiating or drinking in the street-facing taverns. Merchants, more refined, guarded their stalls jealously, exchanging sharp, quick words with their customers. Mercenaries and soldiers gathered in small, wary groups, their hands always near their weapons. But it was the pirates who most caught his attention.

They had no specific uniform, but their appearance set them apart. Some wore long, richly decorated coats, others made do with open shirts and patched trousers. Many wore flashy jewelry, remnants of past plunders. These were the ones who seemed to impose their own law on the island, a tacit law where strength and boldness triumphed above all.

As the sun began to set, Mero found himself feeling an odd admiration for this anarchic world. Here, everything seemed possible, everything seemed permitted. And even though he knew it was only an illusion, that hidden rules existed that he didn't yet understand, the idea of exploring this island up close was becoming an obsession.

Tomorrow, when they set foot on land, he would know where to focus his gaze and which faces to watch. And maybe... maybe he’d find a way to learn more without breaking the rules set by the captain.

That evening, there was no weapons training. All the sailors prepared for an actual battle, hoping it wouldn’t come to that. The cannons were loaded, ready to fire at the captain’s word. The sailors’ gazes made it clear to Mero that he didn’t belong there, that he should stay out of the way. He could see a glimmer of worry in the eyes of the young sailors. Slowly, he descended from the deck, feeling the palpable tension in the air. The sailors, usually loud and jovial, were silent, their gazes fixed on the horizon or their weapons. Even those who had joked just a few hours ago had lost their lightness. The smell of powder and salt mixed with the oppressive atmosphere.

The young sailors, inexperienced and nervous, huddled together in a corner, exchanging uneasy looks. They knew they wouldn’t be fighting on the front lines, but in case of boarding, no one was safe. Mero felt a pang in his chest as he saw their tense faces. Like him, they were on this ship out of duty, out of necessity, not by choice.

Master Antonin approached him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Go below deck, Mero. Your place is not here."

His tone was calm but firm. Mero nodded and obeyed, though a part of him resisted being kept away. He cast one last look at the deck before walking away. Behind him, the sailors were preparing for the worst, while the pirate island, dark and unpredictable, loomed ahead like a promise of chaos.

The night passed peacefully, though he couldn’t manage to sleep.

In the morning, the ship set sail toward the island. The day slowly rose over the island. The air was heavy and warm, with a light breeze from the sea gently stirring the ship’s sails. Mero stood on the deck, observing the island more closely. Its coastlines were steep, almost inaccessible, with cliffs plunging directly into the sea. The scattered houses on the island were simple but sturdy, as if designed to withstand storms and assaults. The inhabitants, though few in number, seemed already busy, as though they were accustomed to the hard life here.

The captain gave orders to land, and the sailors began to prepare. Part of the group headed to the city to buy supplies and materials to repair the ship, while others stayed aboard to protect the vessel in case of danger.

Master Antonin joined Mero, still calm and methodical.

"We’ve got work ahead, Mero. But stay alert. This is not an island like the others."

He gave him a serious look, as if to remind him that, even though the terrain was familiar, danger always lurked in this unpredictable environment.

Mero nodded silently, a strange feeling overtaking him as they prepared to disembark on this island that seemed both full of promise and threatening.