Karmo wiped his weapon on the fallen officer and turned his gaze toward the sea. The Karrak finally caught the wind and was now closing in on the merchant barque.
"What's this vessel carrying?" the captain asked, scratching his beard.
"Barrels of wine, Karmo. Lots of barrels! And a big chest of treasures!" one of the sailors called out, peering out of the hold.
"To Poseidon with the wine! We'll drink our fill on land. We need to hurry. Take the money, load it onto our ship, and make sure not a single coin is lost, you pups! Faster!"
Three pirates dragged the chest onto the deck. They wrapped it with ropes and lowered it onto their ship. Laughing joyously, the cutthroats jumped from the deck onto the pirate vessel. The captain himself cut the ropes of the boarding hooks.
"Hoist the sails!" he commanded, taking the wheel. As the Karrak came within a couple of miles, Karmo skillfully turned his ship and set course.
"Try to catch us!" the captain called out cheerfully to the pursuing warship. His heart sang. He hadn't lost his luck after all!
Soon, the pirates pulled ahead of the heavy Justiciar Karrak. The white sails of the pursuers disappeared into the distant mist. Karmo rubbed his hands and scolded his crew for their doubts:
"What, you dogs, thought Blood Karmo lost his luck?! Lost his sense? Ha! Not a chance! I'm the best captain in these waters, damn Poseidon!"
"What do you mean, captain," one of the sailors grumbled. "We always knew that."
"Yes, yes," another chimed in obsequiously. "The best!"
"Yet just a day ago you said something entirely different, Tom," Karmo tapped his ear. "The sound of sabers didn't dull my hearing. 'Fortune has turned its back on the captain, I'll never sail with him again'—you squealed in that high-pitched voice." He mocked the pirate. "Next time, I won't even take you! Stay ashore and find yourself another leader. Who would need you, filthy ragged man!"
Sailor Tom fell silent, his head drooping. He hoped that the captain would get over it and perhaps change his mind.
Karmo swept his arm dramatically over the pile of gold and jewels stacked in the center of the deck.
"What, is this not enough? Huh? Admit it, dogs, you don't deserve this, damn Poseidon! But I'm generous. I'll forgive you. Instead of a quarter, I'll take a third!"
The pirates didn't dare contradict the captain. With greedy gleams in their eyes, they stared at the loot, like hungry dogs eyeing a piece of meat. The haul was rich. The pile of treasures was worth at least four and a half thousand gold coins.
Not counting Karmo's share, that would give each of the twenty men one hundred and fifty. Oh, that's serious money! With that, they could spend months in taverns and inns, rolling dice until the late hours, drowning in wine to the brim, surrounded by a selection of fine whores.
"Anyone opposed?" the captain looked around at the sailors. "No? Then let's begin the division!"
Karmo sat down in front of the treasure. He meticulously picked up each coin, each gem, and carefully inspected them. The division of wealth was a very important and sometimes difficult task. First, the total value of the loot had to be assessed, and then each sailor would receive their rightful portion.
A couple of hours later, the captain finished the first part.
"Four thousand six hundred and twenty gold coins! Not bad, very not bad. Alright, boys, take your money!"
One by one, the pirates approached Karmo, watching closely as the captain counted out their share. After receiving their gold and jewels, they tucked them away in their chests or sturdy leather pouches.
***
Finally, the most pleasant part of pirate life was finished. The sailors took their places on the ship, and the captain stood on the bridge, proudly gazing ahead. The wind weakened. The ship sailed slowly across the calm sea.
'How much gold,' Carmo thought contentedly. 'I'll fix the ship, hire a new crew, not this scum. I'll buy another ship. More ships, more loot! No more prowling the sea like a hungry wolf. I'll raid coastal towns! They say the Empire has gotten pretty rich. No wonder!
The knights of the Order made a mess with their Leskatia and can't compete with the Justiciars. And they, not being fools, seized the opportunity, and now money flows into their ports like a ringing stream. Why not storm one of their ships? Slaves, gold, textiles – oh yes, I'm getting close to a fleet! I'll become famous and rich. Very rich!'
His pleasant thoughts were interrupted by a shout from one of the pirates.
"Man overboard! Starboard!"
The captain furrowed his brows skeptically but still walked to the edge of the bridge. Before him appeared an unusual sight—both amusing and frightening at the same time. About fifteen meters away, parallel to the ship, a completely naked man was swimming.
He sliced through the water with slow, powerful strokes, his head lowered below the surface, seemingly unaware of the absurdity of the situation. The man was gaining considerable speed, lazily waving his arms, swimming even slightly faster than the ship. For several dozen seconds that Carmo watched him, the man never raised his head to breathe.
"What are we going to do, captain?" shouted a sailor, Tom, from the deck.
"What the hell?!" Carmo cried in response, staring in amazement at the man. "Is that a fish? A mutant mermaid? No, no tail. Fine! Throw him a rope!"
At that moment, the man stopped, remaining on the water's surface, and turned his head toward the ship. His eyes gleamed like steel; the captain unconsciously looked away, unwilling to meet the piercing gaze.
A rope shot up like a snake. The rope was caught by a deft hand, tugged, and tightened, and the man swiftly leapt onto the deck. The crew surrounded him immediately, a colorful group of pirates. Carmo jumped down from the bridge and forced his way through the sailors.
"Move aside! Move aside, you dogs!" the captain rudely shoved the pirates aside and approached the man. He quickly scanned the stranger from head to toe. The man was tall, at least two heads taller than the largest pirate in his crew, and his broad shoulders could rival a giant's. On his chest and stomach, instead of hair, there were small blue feathers, darkened by the water.
Iron spikes protruded through them. The man had sharp features, his face marked by white scars and cuts. There was a small dent on his forehead, surrounded by red, peeling skin, as if he had recently received a heavy blow, the mark of which had yet to fade. Above, his hair stood up like a hedgehog, colorless.
"Well, well," Carmo muttered.
"I was shipwrecked," the stranger's cold voice interrupted the silence. "I need to get to shore."
He slowly scanned the crowd with his eyes, and the pirates involuntarily stepped back.
"Who are you?" the captain asked gruffly. "Are you a man?"
The man smirked, as though the question itself amused him.
"I'm a traveler. I need to get to shore," he repeated tersely, not wasting words on the ragtag crew around him.
Carmo felt the urge to hide behind the sailors from the cold authority in the man's voice, but instead, he took a step forward. He couldn't show weakness in front of his crew.
"You'll get there; we're heading there right now!" the captain said with a mocking bow.
"Bloody Carmo, transporter of strangers, at your service!"
"Amon," the man introduced himself briefly.
"And tell me, Amon, are you by chance a knight of the Order? We love and respect your kind, so don't be afraid!"
"No."
"Maybe you're a nobleman, a merchant?"
"No."
"Then how will you pay for our services?" Carmo asked with feigned sympathy. "We don't do transportation for free."
The man hesitated for a moment, then smiled at the corners of his mouth.
"With the rarest of goods. Mercy."
The captain was consumed by anger. The man's cold composure enraged him.
'What am I even doing with him?' Carmo thought. 'He's alone, and there are twenty of us!'
"I have a better idea," the captain said with false cheer, leaning forward. "You'll pay with yourself! We're going to Al-Gord, ever been there? They have great slave markets! You'll fetch a good price, big guy. They always need slaves for plantations!"
Amon remained silent. Carmo felt the tension drain from the pirates: the stranger was just a coward, unable to stand up for himself.
"Can anyone else manage this ship?" the "traveler" suddenly asked, looking around at them.
"Anyone, no problem," Carmo responded mockingly, slapping the mast with his hand. "Steering a ship is nothing, Poseidon take me! What, looking for a sidekick? My cabin will be too cramped for our asses. Unless you turn into an alp, they're skinny!"
The pirates laughed heartily at the captain's joke. They relaxed. Before them was not a hunter but another victim.
"We have one rule," Carmo continued. "Guests go in the hold and in chains. Agree to my offer, or get back in the sea!"
The man calmly reacted to his words, as if he had already made a decision, and the rest was just a tedious and boring show.
"I'm fine with that," he said indifferently, raising his hands, inviting them to chain him.
"So what are you waiting for, guys!" the captain shouted. "Don't hurt the guest!"
The pirates eagerly rushed at Amon, hanging on his arms and shoulders. They brought out the shackles, which were always kept on board for prisoners and slaves. The sailors wrapped chains around the man's wrists and hammered the spikes into the shackles.
"And now, please, follow me to the hold," the captain grabbed the man by the forearm and led him toward the dark hole in the deck.
Amon didn't resist, allowing himself to be taken to the hold. But at the open hatch, the prisoner stopped and looked intently at Carmo.
"You're an idiot, captain," Amon said in a completely casual tone, as if discussing yesterday's weather. "I don't even know what's wrong with me, but I'm rarely as kind as I am today. If I were you, I'd give myself a cabin and be happy I got off so cheap."
"What's that, my little fish?" Carmo sneered.
The man crookedly smiled.
"When we reach land, I'll come up and slaughter you all like mad dogs."
The captain burst into laughter.
"I'll become the Sea Bishop before that, and the sea will turn red!"
He shoved the prisoner, and he easily jumped down into the dark, musty hold. Still laughing, Carmo slammed the hatch shut with his foot.