1. IX. THE PONTUS
Admrilia walked to the Pontus’ bow just as dawn yawned across the horizon. She existed for this calm as the first rays of sunlight reflected off the dark waters of the Semperimar. Here, just as the world awoke she could be alone with her thoughts. Admrilia nodded to the helmsmen, inhaling the sharp salty breeze and threw her hands over the railing. Minutes later, life aboard the Pontus began with military precision. Neptori rose to release the night crew and took their stations along the deck. As visibility improved, Admrilia spotted the rest of their fleet behind them, prepared for another day sailing along the coastline.
Admrilia too, should get about her duties. She confirmed with Ros, the helmsmen, about their days course. Over the past days, she had dived into helping command the Pontus. She had hoped that if she showed her trustworthiness, the Conqueror would call upon her. He hadn’t. The Conqueror had grown accustomed to secluding himself inside his tent with his council. He had left her and Asho up to their own devices. Admrilia rarely saw her cousin. He spent his days in the sails, watching the waves or dozing. Once she had ran into him in the kitchen, hand in a bag of dates while the groggy cook wasn’t looking. The prince had merely raised an eyebrow at her, mid-chew.
Admrilia broke her fast, and spent the afternoon training with Flavius and Alexandros under the guidance of the conqueror’s centori. Their instructor, Tygris Gaius Agrippa, was unusually young for the post. Only in his thirties, but he was ruthless in his command of the legionnaires stationed on the Pontus through their exercises. He barked out the various attacks and blocks, Admrilia took refuge in the movements. She normally preferred the spear and nets assigned to neptori, but she knew she would have to strengthen her proficiency with a gladius. The Silver Islands had taught her that.
When Tygris dismissed them, Admrilia took her sore muscles back to her small cabin. She spent her nights reading up on the complicated entanglements of the Empire. Admrilia shuddered at the thought of not having a response if the Conqueror called upon her. If every action taken in the next year was cumulative in his decision, then there were only one steadfast direction forward.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
The days slid into a week. The first neptor abandoned the coastline for the open sea. Admrilia grew eager for their first stop at Thrysne Island to pay homage to the Stormlord before they headed to Sugia Territory. She ran laps around the trireme, trained underneath centori Tygris and his men, and waited outside the Conqueror’s tent, hands clasped behind her back, waiting for the call.
Admrilia was unsure what had awakened her, but the dream had left her cold and breathless. The premonition fading from her consciousness as quickly as it had formed. She rubbed against her chest, forcing herself to breath. Admrilia got dressed. She pushed past the sleepy oarsmen to the main deck, expecting solace at the bow.
Asho laid with his back on the deck, hands in his unruly hair. He tilted his head over as she approached. “Admrilia?”
“What are you doing out here?”
“Stargazing.” He said as if it was obvious.
“Oh.” Admrilia’s feet slid backwards. “I won’t intrude.”
“No.” Asho patted the deck. “Join me.”
Admrilia sighed and lowered herself down on the cold planks. She gazed up at the midnight sky. It wasn’t particularly impressive, the little anklets of light as inspiring as the freckles on Asho’s face. Asho’s eyes darted over. “There’s the Tyrysian stag.” Asho pointed to a square collection of stars to the north. “The hunter, he’s over there, kills it and gives it to the Maiden.” Admrilia muttered something incoherent that he mistook for permission to continue. “Over there is the crab.” Asho’s toe snatched towards her achilles.
Admrilia curled back her toes. “Don’t.” She warned. “So you really do this to entertain yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Gods below, I never knew you could be so boring.” Admrilia blew away her hair.
Asho grew quiet. “They remind me of my father.”
Ashen. Admrilia’s face grew uncharacteristically hot. “Oh.”
Asho pushed himself to his feet. He wasn’t looking at her. “I’m sorry to bother you. I should go get some sleep.”
Admrilia grunted a noncommittal “no, don’t,” as he turned. She sat up, but Asho was already stalking back towards the sails.