The ship was big enough to carry six hundred people, if those people were packed together tight. It smelled strongly of tar and salt water, and the air above its decks was full of gulls shrieking overhead. Down below, the hold teemed with life. Bodies lay everywhere, stacked four high against the walls, covered with straw and blankets, sometimes even draped over the rails of the deck. Some were still alive, moaning softly amongst the dead. Others slept fitfully amid the stink and chaos. And all along the riverbanks, there were more corpses rotting in the mud. Thousands of them, stretching northward into the wilderness, some half-buried beneath the mud. When the wind blew just so, the stench wafting downriver could choke a man to death within yards of safety.

Dead bodies were a common sight along this shore. The war in the Black Sea had been going on for nearly two years now. It was a slow, brutal kind of war. The war had come after General Nhorhon's feet was ambushed and the rebels began to expand, an inevitably which was introduced to the timeline through geo-political experimentation chartered by the black-flag rebels in the region, a brutal and complex phenomenon which had not come to the region intentionally, but something which was created as a byproduct of rapid rebel expansionism into the Black Kannonhar Jungle and the Bahyleeise rainforest territory in the North West, purely accidental at the start, as they took hold of its rich in resources land, a mad-black octo-apex deathgrip singularity event which would completely force the region and its inhabitants into the future of the black-flag rebel syndication of uplifted slave-Utopianism. King Ohmen would launch his invasion of the region shortly after, driving the Black Sea rebels back to the oceans where they came, taking over the mining operation for himself. This operation would expand to the nearby islands which were already under his territory. He sent more men to the Blackguard at Inzathoth to start a new branch dedicated to mining resources in the region.

There were few enough ships plying between the Westmere Islands and the Land of the Real. Most were small fishing vessels, trading mostly fish and furs. There were also several carracks, which plied the coastlines, taking slaves and ivory and precious stones from the rebel sea traders. One sailed under the command of a pirate named Blackheart, whom Ser Mahdek once sent to capture the region of the sea near The Port of Gulls in the North.

None of that mattered now. All the ships that might have brought relief to the starving refugees fleeing the war were gone. Even if there had been room on board, none of the captains wanted to risk sailing close enough to shore to let their passengers alight. Many of them had seen soldiers patrolling the banks. So instead hundreds of thousands rode and walked, crawling through the mud, staggering along the roadways, stumbling barefoot onto the bridges. No one cared whether they lived or died anymore, except for the crows and rats feasting on their bodies.

At noon they began to sail across open water to the island beyond. The wind blew cold and bitter, and the sky was a deep, leaden blue. The sea was a gray mass of waves that seemed almost older than The Land of the Real itself, and the air rang constantly with the cries of the mad-black seabirds that came from Inzathoth. Mahdek had never seen birds as big as these. They looked like some type of vulture, with long necks and long, sharp beaks that could tear a man's eyes out… or his tongue… or his throat… or his cock.

Mahdek spent the time in his chambers with his new whore. He enjoyed listening to her talk. She was clever, quick witted, and very pretty. When he looked at her face, sometimes he forgot why she was here. It seemed as though she belonged right beside him.

Cindy sat on a chair beside the bed, reading aloud from a book of poetry. A poem about a woman who loved a sailor.

"You are so beautiful," said the poet. "Your hair is like a river running wild."

She paused when she reached the word "wild". There was silence between them. After a while, she continued, "... and your skin is like ivory and silk… and there's nothing in this wide world that compares to you… nothing!"

The room grew quiet again.

A knock sounded on the door. It opened slowly. One of the guards entered carrying a tray full of food. On top lay three cups filled with steaming tea.

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Mahdek pulled out a cigarette as the servant placed their tea on the bedside table.

"Hand me that candle," he said.

The servant quickly did as he was told, and lifted the candle over to Mahdek, who leaned forward with the cigarette in his mouth until he felt its warmth on his face. He took a drag of the cigarette, watching the flame which lit the ship's small room just enough. The flame almost appeared to sway with the ship, as if it was somehow tethered to the vessel's soul.

The servant put the candle back by the bedside and left the room.

With one hand he picked up the cup of tea and sipped from it. His other hand went to the coverlet of the bed and began stroking Cindy's arm gently, making her shiver slightly. Gooseflesh rose across her arms, and he could feel it on his fingertips.

"Your hands are cold, Your Grace," Cindy said, her eyes smiling at him. "Let me warm them for you." She crawled slowly and laid against his chest. Then she grabbed his left hand and slipped it under her gown until his hand rested against her bare breast. Without hesitation he slipped his other hand around and grabbed her other tit and squeezed.

"Do you know what I love more than anything else?" he asked softly.

"What, Your Grace?"

"Control," he said. "There is nothing better."

"Yes, Your Grace," she whispered.

"My whole life, this is where I have lived. In control. I have never once done anything I did not want to do. I have taken orders from Kings before, but only because I wanted to, because I had a reason. You know what that reason is?"

"I think so, Your Grace." She was rubbing her finger across his leather armor, playing with the tassles. "To gain more... control."

"You are a smart girl," he said. "Smarter than your King, to be sure. He has been blinded by the illusion of power. He thinks everyone wants to do his bidding, that they're all perfectly loyal. He has no idea what is coming."

He let go of her tit with one hand and moved it up to her face. With gentle fingers he traced his thumb along each cheekbone, stopping briefly at the hollow beneath her eye sockets where they met.

His thumb moved across her chin and tilted her head back, exposing her soft red lips. He kissed her deeply, letting her feel how much he desired her body.

As he broke away from her mouth, she moaned, and ran her tongue lightly across his bottom lip. Their tongues danced together, swirling and twirling. He sucked on her lower lip and bit down gently, drawing blood.

"Ahhh! That feels sooo good, Your Grace!" she gasped.

Her words made him smile inwardly. She knew exactly why he liked her so well; it wasn't just because of her looks or even her body. No, she understood something deeper, something that was truly important to him.

"Is this what you want? Is this what you need?" she asked, moving her hips provocatively against his crotch.

He squeezed her tits hard and pulled her closer. Cindy whimpered and closed her eyes, moaning softly.

Mahdek reached behind her neck and untied the bow holding her hair in place. It fell loose about her shoulders, and he ran his fingers through it absently while still fondling her boobs.

She began to untie the laces of his leather armor and take off his clothes. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him tightly against her, pressing her nakedness against his. They kissed furiously, their bodies grinding together until they both climaxed; the small bedroom of the ship becoming suddenly very hot.

They rolled over onto their sides, Cindy lying atop Mahdek, who continued to kiss her face and neck. As they lay there panting, she looked up at him with those beautiful emerald-green eyes.

"Your Grace," she breathed. "Your cock is so big!"

Mahdek rolled over and grabbed a cigarette from his coat pocket and tipped the end into the candle. He sucked into the smoke and looked over at her naked and sweating body. "Do you know how to roll cigarettes?" he asked.

She nodded eagerly. "Oh yes, Your Grace. My mother taught me when I was twelve."

"Good," he said. "Then roll some. I'm running low."

The girl got off the bed and grabbed her gown.

"No," he said. "Keep it off."

She smiled. "Yes, Your Grace."

She turned her ass to him and walked around the bed where she would sit naked, nipples hard, chest glistening in the candle-light, as she rolled his cigarettes. Then when she was done, she would read to him until he fell asleep.