Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 394

Chapter 394: Bound to sea Chapter 394: Bound to sea By the time dawn stretched its fingers across the horizon, Blake and his captains were well away from the jagged silhouette of the island that had served as their base of operations.

The sails billowed under a brisk morning wind, and the fleet cut through the waves like predators on the hunt that came victorious.

The island faded behind them, little more than a smudge on the pale horizon, the memory of their presence already drifting into history.

Blake leaned against the rail of his flagship, his sharp eyes scanning the endless expanse of blue.

His face betrayed no regret at leaving the island behind; the decision had been made the moment the fires from last night’s attack had painted the skies crimson. The time for bold strikes had passed.

Lingering in those waters was no longer daring-it was suicidal.

They had accomplished what they set out to do: sown chaos, destroyed ships, and gave more time for the Confederation to assemble .

Now, every ship they left behind on the island’s defense was one less that could be deployed in open pursuit.

Blake’s thoughts drifted to the Romelian general, who now stood as his unseen adversary.

What little he knew of the man had been gleaned from the tongues of captured merchants, spilling fragmented details like coins from a torn purse.

Caius Veritia-that was the name.

Younger brother to the patriarch of the powerful Veritia household.Beyond that?He knew nothing…except of course that he must have had a bad night.

Blake smirked, the corner of his mouth curling into a knowing grin.

By now, no doubt, Caius must have doubled the number of ships on patrol, his orders carried out with the urgency of a man desperate to save face.

Hunting parties would have been dispatched, prowling the waves in vain.

The thought was almost comical to Blake, and he let out a low chuckle, the sound carried off by the wind.

“Chasing ghosts,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head at the futility of their efforts.

They were scouring the wrong waters, hunting for a fleet that was already leagues away, sails full and slipping beyond their grasp.

The daring raid that had left Romelian ships in flames was no longer a puzzle to be solved-it was a memory.

Of course, not everything was smooth sailing after last night’s assault.

The results, truth be told, fell far short of Blake’s expectations.

Weeks of relentless effort-hunting the seas, amassing eleven ships equipped with everything needed to turn enemy vessels into floating infernos-and all that preparation seemed to burn away just as quickly as the oil-soaked kindling.

Of those eleven ships sent on their fiery mission, six never even reached their mark.

They sailed straight into the jaws of destruction, consumed by the darkness, without even as so much as grazing their targets.

The remaining five did manage to strike home,with only three managing to destroy the enemy’s vessel, while the others at least succeeded in making them unusable for the short term.

Still, Blake couldn’t help but grimace at the ratio.Five ships more or less destroyed out of eleven was hardly a victory, especially when this had been their best shot-a rare opportunity to strike hard before the final battle.  The failure didn’t come as a surprise, though.

Blake knew all too well where things had gone wrong.

The crews, in their haste to escape death, abandoned their ships too soon.

Their premature exits meant the critical ramming strikes either missed entirely or glanced harmlessly off the enemy vessels, leaving only scorched paint and singed wood in their wake.

Instead of the devastation Blake had envisioned, it had been a chaotic flurry of misjudged angles and missed opportunities.

It gnawed at him-the sheer waste of effort and resources-half a month of work after all was no easy stroll in the park.

But still, he pressed the bitterness down, burying it beneath the stoic resolve that years at sea had carved into him.

Last night had been a gamble, and though the dice had rolled poorly, it wasn’t a total loss.

Of course, his frustration was made worse by the uncomfortable reality that he couldn’t punish the ones who had failed.

Most of those who bungled the mission were captains in their own right-free men, not bound by any oaths to Blake beyond the loose ties of shared purpose.

Unlike Darron, who owed his command to Blake’s generosity since the ship he was sailing with was Blake’s property, these captains could simply sail away if they felt slighted.

In truth, it was commendable they hadn’t done so already, given the high-risk nature of the mission.

But the inability to hold them accountable gnawed at Blake all the same.

Still, amidst the disappointment, one bright spot shone through: Darron.

Blake hadn’t expected much from the man when he handed him command, but the stories that filtered back from the crew painted a picture of an unexpected talent.

Darron had stayed with his ship until the very last moment, abandoning it only as it was about to collide.

He hadn’t hesitated to throw the torches himself, ensuring the oil-drenched wood caught fire at precisely the right time, before hurling himself into the icy waters below.

It was the kind of daring performance Blake rarely saw, even among seasoned captains.

What made it all the more remarkable was Darron’s position.As he had expected less from a captain that had been in duty for less than a month.Instead, he was proved wrong.  Darron for now wasn’t a captain; he was an underling, a man with no vote in the Call-as only a man with a ship could have the power to cast his vote.

His lack of ownership meant he had more to prove and less room to fail.

Blake suspected that was precisely why Darron had excelled.

The man must have known that any mistake could cost him everything.

Since punishment for failure was off the table, Blake focused instead on rewarding success-a tool just as powerful, if not more so.

Among those who stood out in the chaotic aftermath of the attack, two names rose above the rest: Darron and Rheys.

Both had shown exceptional courage and effectiveness, ensuring that at least some of the plan’s goals were met.

And if Blake couldn’t reprimand the weak links, he could certainly make examples of the strong ones.

For Darron, the reward was an easy calculation.

Handing over ownership of the ship he’d commanded so well would elevate him from a leased captain to a true one, granting him not only the respect that came with ownership but also a higher share of the loot from every successful venture.  Rheys, however, was a different matter.

The man already owned his ship.

Blake considered other options as he weighed Rheys’s contributions.

The answer came quickly enough.

Elio’s household controlled not just the Elio mainland but also several surrounding islands, some of which included small, sparsely populated villages.

Offering Rheys one of these as a reward would be a good one , as it would make him akin to a landed pirate.

Of course such rewards would wait at the end of the war as after all there was still the final battle to fight with the whole Confederation behind them.

As great rewards could only come at the end of hard times.

Still much more interesting for him were the reports of the flames spreading like a ravenous beast from one ship to the next, igniting with such ferocity that witnesses compared it to the rising of a second sun.

The descriptions of the enemy’s vessels exploding into bright, fiery chaos brought a grim smile to Blake’s face.

He didn’t need confirmation; he’d seen enough to know the work of the old hag when it unfolded before him.

It was curious the fact that Blake found himself relying more and more on the witch’s unsettling talents, especially considering that he had thought of throwing her to the fishes the first time he saw here.

Over the past month, her involvement has turned the tide on several occasions.

Still, her growing influence was a double-edged sword.

As much as her help was invaluable, Blake was keenly aware of the unease that followed her wherever she went.

His men might whisper about her, crossing themselves when her name was mentioned, but Blake couldn’t afford to care.

Results spoke louder than rumors, and for now, her results were undeniable.

Out of a mixture of generousness and curiosity, Blake had approached her earlier that morning.

Her quarters were dim and pungent with the scent of herbs and strange incense.

With a straightforwardness he was always usde to, he had asked if there was anything she desired as a reward for her invaluable assistance.

After all, he had thought, it was better to be on the good side of someone with such power.

But the old hag had simply given him a sly, toothless grin, her dark eyes gleaming with something almost predatory.

“No reward now,” she had said in his languages, which she was starting to learn, albeit slowly.

“But when the seas yours, favor will come .” Blake had stiffened at her words, though he managed to keep his expression neutral as he wondered the first part of her words.

Still , for now there were much more pressing matters at hand then the meaning behind some broken words of the common tongue.  After he still had to link up with the amassed fleet of the Confederation, as it would be a poor sight to have the Admiral absent when the fleet sailed forward in battle.