Chapter 3 - The Weight of Journey

Bang!!!!!

Bang!!!!

Bang!!

A particularly nasty string of curses died on my lips as I lurched upright, heart hammering a sailor’s jig against my ribs. The remnants of sleep clung to me like a bad hangover as I stumbled toward the door. The pounding on the wood continued, insistent and damned effective.

“Hold your horses,” I growled, fumbling with the latch.

I swung the door open and found myself staring into a pair of piercing blue eyes. The woman before me stood at my height, her long dark hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, did great things for a jawline I’d wager had launched a thousand arguments and won at least half.

The rest of her, well, was standard-issue Thalassar Navy ... mostly. The uniform, crisp as a freshly-starched sail, lacked any markings or insignia that might have betrayed her rank. Either she was brand new to the service –unlikely given the look in her eyes– or this little detail was part of the message.

“Captain Aedan?”

“That’s me.”

“I’m here to escort you.”

Ah, the meeting. “Give me five minutes,” I said, stepping aside to let her in. “Make yourself at home.”

I dashed to the bathroom to freshen up, splashing cold water on my face before changing into a fresh set of my naval uniform.

The fabric was a deep navy blue, almost black, tailored to fit like a second skin. Gold trim adorned the cuffs and collar. The double-breasted jacket was fastened with ornate buttons, each one engraved with the naval insignia—a pair of crossed cutlasses beneath a stylized wave. My captain’s epaulettes rested on my shoulders, their gold tassels a testament to my rank, yet devoid of the numerous medals and ribbons that adorned the uniforms of my more decorated peers.

Few minutes later, feeling marginally more presentable and significantly more apprehensive, I emerged from my makeshift dressing-room.

“Ready when you are,” I told her, catching her gaze as I strode past.

Anchorfell in the morning was its own special brand of chaos – vendors already hawking their wares like they were selling salvation, sailors stumbling out of taverns blinking at the sunlight as if it were a personal offense, the smell of fish and saltwater and ambition hanging thick in the air. It was a sight I usually found invigorating, a testament to the boundless energy of a port city that never slept, but right now ... well, my senses seemed to have narrowed their focus.

Every long, confident stride drew my eye to ... well, let’s just say the navy knew how to tailor a uniform, but there were some curves even regulations couldn’t disguise. Her pants might have been designed with mobility in mind, but each movement revealed just how spectacularly they’d failed in the ‘concealment’ department.

The view, to put it delicately, was distractingly divine. It was like the gods had carved those curves just to test the willpower of every man in her wake.

It was truly a work of art— the product of countless hours spent training, no doubt, honing her body into a weapon as lethal as any blade. A very nice, very distracting weapon.

“You know for a city supposedly founded by pirates, Anchorfell’s not exactly subtle about its love affair with regulations. I swear, more rules than there are barnacles on a—”

“The Admiral expects a prompt arrival.” Her voice was still cool, businesslike.

“Right, right, promptly,” I said, lifting my hands in mock surrender. “Just trying to break the ice a bit. Or, seeing as we’re surrounded by seawater, perhaps I should say ... charting a course through the ... no, that doesn’t quite work, does it?”

A beat of silence. “I believe ‘navigating the social currents’ might be a more appropriate metaphor, Captain.”

Damn, she was good. And here I was thinking all the witty ones ended up in intelligence ... or running their own fleets.

We rounded a corner, the smell of fresh bread from a nearby bakery momentarily overpowering the ever-present scent of brine and salt.

“So,” I said, falling into step beside her, “this whole ‘silent escort’ thing ... Is that standard protocol these days? I was taught, a bit of conversation was considered, you know, polite.”

She didn’t break stride. Didn’t even look at me. “We’re on a tight schedule, Captain.”

“Right, tight schedule, priorities, all that.” I glanced around, pretending to take in the sights, but my attention kept drifting back to the captivating sway of her hips. “But surely even the Admiral wouldn’t object to a little ... team bonding? Get to know the man she’s about to throw to the sharks, so to speak.”

“As you know The Admiral is a busy woman, Captain. She values efficiency.”

“Efficiency, eh? And here I was thinking this was a social call.” I chuckled, shaking my head. “Well, a man can dream, can’t he?”

A beat of silence. Then, a flicker of something in her eyes. Amusement? It was gone before I could properly identify it.

“So, what’s your name? Unless that’s classified information too.”

She didn’t answer for a moment, and I was already mentally composing a follow-up question designed to elicit maximum flustered charm, when she finally spoke.

“Seren.”

“Seren,” I repeated, letting her name roll off my tongue as if tasting a fine wine. “Suits you.”

She said nothing, but when our arms brushed, her skin was warm against mine. We weaved through the maze of morning bustle, her pace brisk, efficient – clearly, ‘tight schedule’ was not an exaggeration. Time to up the ante, I decided.

“So, Seren,” I said, trying – and failing – to sound casual. “what does a woman like you do when you’re not escorting people around Anchorfell? Can’t imagine a lass with your ... spirit, lets say, is content sitting at home, darning socks.”

Seren stopped dead in her tracks, her gaze fixing on me with an intensity that would’ve made a lesser man reconsider his life choices. It did send a pleasant shiver down my spine, though, I’ll admit. “Are you serious?”

I blinked, momentarily thrown by her sudden shift. “About the socks? Never been a fan of mending, to be honest.”

“We’ve been walking for, what, ten minutes, and you’re already openly flirting? Bold move.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to think I was wasting your time. And besides, how else is a lady supposed to know a bloke’s intentions if he doesn’t lay it on a bit thick?”

The faintest hint of color touched her cheeks, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I saw the ghost of a smile before she schooled her features. “You should know, Captain,” she said, resuming her brisk pace, “that flattery will get you nowhere.”

Undeterred, I easily fell back into step beside her. “So, about those hobbies...”

“I don’t discuss my personal life with strangers.”

“Fair enough,” I said, raising my hands in mock surrender. “See that tavern down there? They brew a mean ale – strong enough to knock the barnacles off a mermaid. How about I buy you a drink, we swap some stories, and see if we can’t remedy this whole ‘stranger’ situation?”

“I’m afraid I’m quite busy at the moment.” she said, her voice politely firm. “As I imagine you will be shortly.”

“Oh, I’m sure the Admiral can wait a few minutes,” I said with a wink. “Besides, a man’s gotta have his priorities. And a fine ale, shared with an even finer ... companion? That’s pretty high up on my list.” I leaned in, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And just between you and me? The ale’s just an excuse. It’s your company I’m after.”

“Tempting,” she admitted, “But I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

“Who said anything about pleasure?” I countered, stepping closer. “Consider it ... reconnaissance.”

“Reconnaissance, is it?” A corner of her mouth lifted, and for a heartbeat, “But I’ll have to pass, for now.”

“For now...” I echoed, my grin widening. “So, there’s a chance later?”

“You’re relentless, aren’t you?”

“It’s considered one of my more endearing qualities. That, and my impeccable taste in taverns. And company.”

“Oh I’ve heard ... things about you.”

“Ah, so my reputation precedes me?” I grinned, unable to help myself. “Flattered, Seren, truly.”

“Don’t be. It’s my job to ... stay informed.”

“Fair enough, but don’t you think it’s only fair I get to know a few things about you then?”

“Nope.”

“Damn,” I muttered under my breath. This day had started with such promise – a beautiful woman, a hint of mystery ... and yet, here I was, striking out before noon.

We were practically flying through the streets now - her long strides eating up the cobblestones with an efficiency that would’ve put a drill sergeant to shame. I had to practically jog to keep up.

“Do you always move at this pace, Seren, or are you just making sure I get my morning exercise in?”

“Having trouble keeping up, Captain?”

“A bit, yeah,” I admitted, “You walk like ... a gazelle on a mission from the Sea Gods.”

“Consider it a ... warm-up.”

We crossed a stone bridge, the water rushing beneath us a dull roar shimmering under morning sun. Up ahead, I could finally make out our destination - an imposing octagonal building that seemed to rise from the cliffs like a fortress. Guards were stationed at every entrance, their faces stoic beneath their polished helmets. Even the sunlight seemed to glint off them with an extra bit of sharpness.

Once inside, any attempt at conversation was futile. Seren led me through a maze of corridors, the air thick with the scent of beeswax and something faintly metallic – the smell of power, maybe. Sunlight streamed through narrow windows set high in the walls.

We passed through at least three more checkpoints – each more heavily guarded than the last – before finally halting before a pair of massive wooden doors.

“Good luck, Captain.”

“Any chance you’ll be ... escorting me back out after this?”

She leaned in close, her eyes twinkling. “In your dreams.”

“Funny you should mention dreams...” My fingers itched to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. “Let’s just say mine have a habit of coming true.”

Seren laughed, a sound as refreshing as a sea breeze. “Is that so?”

I clutched my heart dramatically. “Ah, what is your laughter doing to me? It’s like a siren’s call!”

“Charming as ever.” She shook her head, but I could see the amusement dancing in her eyes. “But save it for the Admiral.”

“Wait!” I called out as she turned. “About that ale—the offer still stands.”

“Not interested,” she tossed back, but the sway of her hips as she walked away – the way those perfectly toned muscles flexed with every stride - was almost ... a counter-offer.

It’s hypnotic, like watching the ebb and flow of the tide and was enough to make a man forget there were heavily armed guards within spitting distance.

She paused at the end of the corridor, glancing back over her shoulder. One blue eye winked, then she was gone ... She knows.

“Of course, she does.” I muttered to myself. What was it about women, and always knowing exactly when they were being admired?

I stood there for a moment, taking one last, fortifying breath. My hand went instinctively to my collar – a nervous habit I hadn’t kicked, even after all these years.

Straightening my coat one last time, I cast my mind back to that walk, to Seren and her frustratingly captivating stride. A man could get used to that kind of escort service. It was a damn sight more enjoyable than whatever waited on the other side of this door.

“Well,” I muttered, mostly to myself, “in for a penny, in for a kraken.”

With a final, steadying breath, I pushed the heavy door open.

The room was ... well, let’s just say it wasn’t your average naval briefing room. Sunlight streamed through arched windows, illuminating the finely woven rugs that covered the polished stone floor. A massive table, crafted from a single slab of dark, gleaming wood that probably cost more than my entire yearly salary, dominated the space.

And seated around that table...

It only took me a heartbeat to assess the players. I’d recognize most of these faces in a hurricane. High-ranking members of the Thalassar military, each one sporting enough medals and braids on their uniforms.

There were a few civilians scattered around the table too - nobles, I’d wager, judging by the extravagant jewels and the bored expressions they were trying to pass off as polite interest. Probably here to make sure their interests were represented— or, more likely, to complain.

“Captain Aedan,” a voice boomed, snapping me out of my appraisal. “Approach.”

I met the gaze of the person who’d spoken – Admiral Seraphina, or ‘The Kraken’ as she was less-than-affectionately known among the lower ranks.

Her navy uniform was, as always, impeccably tailored, not a single crease or wrinkle marring its crisp lines. Her silver hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and her expression was impossible to read. Even after all these years, her gaze could still send a shiver down my spine.

The woman was a force of nature.

But before I could dwell on that thought, my attention was drawn to the figure seated at the head of the table. His hair, what little I could see beneath the crown perched upon his head, was a mixture of black and silver – more silver than I remembered. There were lines etched around his eyes now, too, evidence of the burden of rule. But the eyes themselves ... those were the same. Sharp, intelligent, and filled with a quiet strength that commanded respect.

I recognized him instantly. How could I not?

I quickly snapped to attention and saluted.

“Your Majesty.”

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, as if the air itself were holding its breath. I remained at attention, not a single muscle twitching. But inside, I was a raging storm of confusion and a healthy dose of good old-fashioned panic. What in the bloody seven hells is the Emperor doing here?

And why hadn’t anyone bothered to mention this?

“He’s ... younger than I expected.” The voice, barely a murmur, came from somewhere to my left. It was exactly the kind of insightful observation that admiral probably found insightful, but right now, I would’ve traded that nugget of wisdom for a shot of rum and a map to the nearest exit.