The Heir Who Wouldn’t Drown - Cover

The Heir Who Wouldn’t Drown

Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales

Chapter 22: The Gate in the Mist

Several days passed.

Maneater Shark sailed north across half the North Sea, heading two compass points west of north against the cold current along the ice fields and the northeast wind. The sea breeze had grown sharper with the approach of late October, though the sunshine was pleasant.

Clang, clang, clang...

On the quarterdeck, Julian sparred against two opponents at once: Young Peter, the ship’s carpenter, and Hugh, known as [Two-Short] since Oswald had bitten off two of his fingers. All three used real swords, but the difference in their skill was so great that no one worried about an accidental injury.

Under this world’s [Silver Law], fighting alone led nowhere. Even the strongest supernatural practitioner needed an utterly loyal guard force to keep some petty ambush from becoming his undoing.

Compared with the guardian knights and guards his uncle and father had spent fortunes training, most of the pirates aboard were worthless dregs. Still, these two had escaped the occult contamination of [Blood of Transmutation] and possessed at least the potential for spiritual awakening. With some training, they might prove useful.

Nicholas and Laurence, the trainee pilots also under his supervision, were much the same. They had virtually no hope of awakening on their own. It was merely a question of how many resources their development would require later.

Before long, both his opponents were gasping, their footwork in disarray. Neither had so much as touched his clothes.

The two trainee pilots were still sprawled nearby with their tongues hanging out. Looking at them, Julian decided he might be pushing too hard. He shook his head and sheathed his sword.

“Your foundations are too weak. None of you has had systematic sword training. At best, you’re ordinary militia. We’ll set aside the [Fisher Cutting Method] every pirate needs to learn and start with how to hold a sword. That goes for the rest of you, too.”

He called over the other young men in his little circle, those with less promising natural abilities, and showed them how to grip their swords, correcting their hands himself.

“Hold it firmly, but don’t squeeze. Grip too tightly and your arm will tire quickly. You only need to exert strength when you cut or parry. Learning to relax your hand after each action is essential. Masters call it ‘relaxed hands.’ It’s a foundation of every sword art. It keeps your hands nimble without letting them grow stiff and tired...

“The fierce [Fisher Cutting Method] is all about attacking, attacking, and attacking again. As beginners, you must maintain your line of attack: the path your weapon has to travel to hit your opponent. Remember the essentials. When you attack, never let your leading foot land before your sword reaches its target, and never let your point stray from the best line of attack. That’s how you strike before your opponent does and keep yourself alive...”

The young men listened intently.

They might be naive, but they were not stupid. Every one of them knew that something Julian said today might change his fate.

Unlike the navy, with its systematic training, pirates followed a simpler principle: the last man alive was the winner.

Countless sailors with no other way to survive boarded pirate vessels. After enough bloody battles, those who remained alive were bound to grow strong on the edge between life and death. Every little thing these young men learned now improved their chances of being among the survivors.

This was the proper, dependable way to develop supernatural practitioners. It lacked the marvels of that supposed [Warrior’s Blood], but it genuinely served their interests.

In the eyes of the little group that already admired him, Julian had added kindness to strength, learning, and humility.

[Two-Short] was especially grateful. With a master cook like Julian standing between him and the captain, a mere cook’s assistant no longer had to serve that terrifying man. Julian had even given him a glimmer of hope that he might acquire supernatural power.

Compared with certain people aboard, the perfect knights who starred in legends could hardly have done better.

Under the continuing influence of [Cognitive Revision], they seemed to have forgotten how the “cook” had originally come aboard.

Feeling [Two-Short]’s fervent gaze, Julian glanced at the [Logbook]. The new material brought a knowing smile to his face.

 
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