Chapter Four- Episode 13-...the lady brilliant...

ejaredallen (60)in #story • 5 years ago

The lady brilliant...

He stood on the top deck of the triple-masted Man O’ War, wind swept through his long mane of rich black hair over the crimson Imperial uniform the captain of The Lady Brilliant wore. The Captain stood head and shoulders above much of the Kodaian crew of the Imperial flagship which had been out for three and half months hunting Sea Wolves, the ravagers of the resistance. The final stronghold of the Uprising was the sea, so the Imperials sent their most forthcoming navigator and ship commander to hunt and destroy the remnant of this thorn in their side.

As he faced the rising sun, born of endless water stretching from horizon to horizon, he peered off into the distance lost in thoughts. He was a young captain, less than thirty years old. Yet in his short span of service, for his ruthlessness and lust for success and power, he had been recognized and given position among the high and mighty of the Dynasty. Now, weeks from Jong Kabur and a meeting with the Imperial Council to report the success of his escapades on the seas.

The young captain raked a hand through his locks of black hair, slick and sticky with the salty spray of the sea. They’d been out here in the expanse of sea for months and not as much as a sail sighted beyond the fishers and trade ships caravanning to and from Vens Vay, the market hub of the known world in the far eastern sea. The water was warmer there, and the captain craved the sweet scent of the far eastern sea over the stagnant water of the northern bays.

He looked up to the crows nest, the ever watchful eye of the ship: no sign, no signal; they were alone in the waters of the north. The captain was never sure what he was wishing to see when he looked up at the crow’s nest. There wasn’t a soul within leagues of this place. Who would be? It was practically uncharted waters, and that was for good reason. Looking out again at the horizon there was nothing upon nothing. Which, was normally every sailor’s dream, but after three months of desperate watching and anticipating some sighting had taken a bit of the wonder out of the endless horizon.

Seamen were not meant to be bound by a calling, but free to roam the sea they loved without rhyme or reason: at one with the waves. The captain had been on the water so long he could feel its motion and gentle rolls as if they were clockwork and his balance shifted with them as his ship was tossed and moved by the water’s will.

“Captain,” a seaman called up from the main deck, “land sighted to the starboard side!”

The captain had hoped for a ship sighting land was just as well. It had been weeks since they last made port, and a day on solid earth would do the entire crew some good; take their minds off of their dismally disappointing campaign. Still, he wished it had been a sail. Something in this captain seemed to invite conflict. He enjoyed the battle more than any man should: the blood, the death, the sense of victory and dominance over another. His desire to win exceeded every other impulse. A man of action, accustomed to pain and death. He was born into this life of adventure and couldn’t escape it.

“Tell the men to ready The Lady Brilliant to make port. Maybe a day off the cursed sea will clear all our minds.” The captain gave the order and men with practiced precision went through the motions of a well rehearsed operation that had almost become ritual. Mindless, their hands moved and readied the ship to make port. A day away from this ship would do them all some good, maybe wake them up again to their first love, the sea. Even the ship, their home and their shrine had began to feel like a drudgery. Where had the thrill gone?

The captain remember the days when he’d looked at the sea through the eyes of a child. The excitement and thrill the endless sea of possibilities caused him to feel was one of the reasons he never could escape the call of the water. His fate was tied to the sea as a young child. It wasn’t so long ago, fifteen years since he’d been a boy, wide-eyed and dream-filled, jaded to the cruelty of life and the evil of mankind. But he’d learned his place and played his part well. He was a cog in a very large machine that was going to set things at right.

The common folk couldn’t be trusted with their own morality. They were humans, but more so and even as he looked down upon the other sailors of his crew, the captain could feel nothing but disdain for the state of existence. How pitiful it was to live life without purpose, these wretches existing for money… how did they do it? He couldn’t imagine how a man could waste away his years in pursuit of the least of all things.

Maybe he should’ve been a philosopher, he thought. There seemed to be a lot of thinking going on. What else could a man do in the middle of an endless sea and amount of hours on his hands? The captain gestured the command of the wheel to his second, who stood, always ready nearby, and retired to his quarters. The captain heaved a huge sigh as he stepped down the stairs to the main deck and turned into the chamber beneath the quarterdeck. His head was so heavy on his neck as he hung it low so that his chin hit his chest.

“Would that this dreadful fog would pass…” the captain moaned as he spun into the room, slamming the door behind him, and throwing himself face forward onto the bed in the center of a large, curved window. “Oh, what a day this has been. Who am I kidding? What a week this has been… or month.” The captain had been wearing thin for the past several weeks as the witch hunt of a voyage had left him with no results to show the council; the same council that had been on his back since early spring to produce real results and prove his worth to the Dynasty.

Oh how they’d wail on him if he came back with empty hands again. Somehow he’d have to find something. There were still pirates in these waters, raiding Imperial farms, firing on merchants: there were pirates somewhere in these waters if only he could find them. He droned off into sleep with thoughts of pirates dancing in his head and swinging from yardarms.

Canons. Shots were sounded off in the distance. The echo across the waters had them coming from the north farther towards the shoreline. The captain shot up in his bed. He could tell that sound from a thousand leagues off. Someone was firing on the city, an Imperial city. Excitement flooded his bones as he jumped off the bed and rushed out the door and up the steps to the quarter deck. His second offered him a spyglass and pointed in the direction of the shoreline.

“A 70ft flute, a Voreian vessel from the north. Could be simple marauders.” The second in command narrated the scene as the captain searched the shoreline for the ship. He saw the smoke from the cannons before the ship came into view. The city had taken significant damage.

“No,” the captain declared, “it’s them. I can feel it. It’s the Uprising.” He was adamant. The second in command knew there was no changing his mind.

“We must consider the possib-”
“No! It’s them. It has to be.” The captain barked. His eyes took on a fire and gleam. This was his breakthrough, his saving grace: he could feel it.