Blue Lord of the Salacia Sea
"If you're a man, you can't back down from a mere storm like this!"
"Please, cut the crap! Reef the sails! They're gonna rip!!!"
"Reef the mast?"
"Please, sis! Pick up that head rolling around the deck!"
"Kyahaha, this isn't gonna actually kill us, right?!"
The crew bustled frantically across the deck. A red-haired Deynos woman snatched up Mortis's head as it tumbled about. Glaring at her, the white-haired Deynos—Zan de Radgerda—clicked her tongue while staring up at the oncoming typhoon.
"The sea witches must be on their periods or something."
"Hey now, that's no way to talk. Can't you empathize?"
"Deynos don't deal with that crap. Keep that helm steady, Hornigold! And drag that lunatic over here too!!"
At the bow, a black-haired young man in a tricorn hat gripped his harpoon, thrusting it forward with mana to punch a massive hole through the crashing waves. The pirate ship darted through the gap, performing acrobatics over the churning sea. As crew members slipped on the deck, the youth called Hornigold hurled ropes that wrapped around wrists and waists, yanking them to safety.
"I hate that 'if you're a man' bullshit!"
"Why? You ain't a man or something? Can't empathize?"
Zan de Radgerda threw Hornigold's words right back at him. He scowled but grinned anyway—it was a damn convincing reason that the guy would stubbornly fight to the death and just be a burden. She burst out laughing too.
Mortis's headless body moved nimbly despite its missing head, yanking up a massive anchor and swinging it wildly to smash the sharp-nosed freakish sea beast leaping from the waves. She hurled the anchor far off, embedding it into the rocky cliffs of a distant island. Wrapping both arms around the chain, she hauled with raw strength, forcibly dragging the ship toward the shore.
"Mortis hooked the anchor into the island!!! All hands, grab hold of anything!! Kyahaha!"
Hornigold followed suit, whirling a rope overhead before flinging it wide, lashing it around trees and rocky outcrops on the island. Bracing his legs, he pulled hard. The ship whooshed into the air, plummeting toward the sandy beach.
At this rate, the impact would shatter the keel—no surprise there. The young man at the bow yanked his rope, retrieving his harpoon, and leaped onto the island.
"Heave-ho!"
Boom! With a heavy thud, the tricorn-hatted youth caught the ship. He gently set it down on the sand, stretched his back with a satisfying crack, and yawned. Slinging the harpoon over his shoulder, he climbed back aboard through the raging wind and rain, smirking down at his bedraggled crew.
Black hair, sharp eyes—a pirate captain who lived for challenging the unknown majesty of natural disasters, fearless in the face of them. Once the captain of her own ship, though that was over fifty years ago.
In his final moments, he'd been betrayed and died in vain. His death scattered the crew to the winds. She'd simply let go of everything, gazing at the horizon, aging slowly while reminiscing about the past.
Zan de Radgerda woke from her dream.
Was it the booze? Or being back at sea after so long? Or maybe the story from that old acquaintance she'd bumped into at the seaside tavern?
Reuniting with him—now a balding geezer with a scraggly beard, his once-lush hair and taut scales long gone—made her freshly aware of just how much time had passed. Drowning in emptiness and futility, she downed the rum on the table.
This voyage would surely be her last—whether she'd return alive was anyone's guess. Better than rotting away comfortably in bed. If she was to die like a pirate, it'd be at sea, going down with her ship as captain.
"It's chilly out... Come inside, Zan."
"What're ya on about, sis? I'm still spry. Only 82, fer cryin' out loud."
Cough, cough. Mortis supported her as she hacked into the cold night sea, gasping for breath.
Back in her youth, she'd entrusted everything to her hot blood, roaming the endless oceans freely. But it ended in disaster, and the years after were pitiable at best.
Drunk and wallowing in negativity, Zan let Mortis guide her to her cabin and tuck her into bed, brewing a warm tea.
"...Never thought you'd become a priestess, sis. How'd ya tame that temper?"
"..."
"It ain't on account of that guy, right? He offed himself on his own terms. No need for guilt."
If there'd been a potion or priest back then, maybe he could've been saved. But in the middle of the ocean, potions don't last forever, and priests sure as hell aren't standard issue. That's why he died, and it became the past.
Though both had been at the All Gods Temple, neither Mortis nor Zan had sought each other out until climbing aboard the same ship now.
"Were you... hurt that I never came looking?"
"...As if. I saw ya comin' around sometimes. Just didn't make a fuss. Better if fewer folks know about my wild past, yeah?"
She chuckled, sipping the tea Mortis offered. Scaleless hands, wrinkled face, eyes worn by life. The woman overflowing with dreams and hope back then had become an old hag who could drop dead any moment, inevitable under time's flow.
Mortis sat beside her, grasping that hand and resting her head nearby. Zan grumbled about sleeping with a severed head on the pillow but placed it there with familiar ease.
"Never figured you'd end up on a ship, sis... and with a hero to boot... Heh... Guess livin' long paid off?"
"Zan."
"Don't ya worry, sis. I ain't dyin' and leavin' that bastard behind. Still... it's nice. Ya look just like back then—makes me feel young again. Bein' on the ship dredges up all the memories."
"Memories... All I remember is cleaning up after that disaster of a captain."
"Hahaha!! Even that turns into nostalgia when ya get old!"
She laughed in reply but soon grew drowsy. If she fell asleep like this, would she wake tomorrow? Would she call her "sis" like always after so long apart?
As a kid, she hadn't thought twice, boarding ship on a whim fueled by youthful fire. Thrilling sea adventures, friends and party comrades she'd met for the first time, hunting treasure, battling pirates—caught in every mishap imaginable...
There was that time, charging ahead on a pirate ship, dreaming of unearthing grand treasure and shaking the world with fame. Precious memories.
Even now, closing her eyes felt like hearing those voices again. But of all those who shared them, only Zan and Hornigold remained to laugh about it.
Fifty years—a mere blink in a dullahan's life, yet long enough for everyone she met to age and die without surprise. They'd wither slowly, become unrecognizable, lose memories, or one day fail to wake, slipping into eternal sleep.
How many more times would she witness it?
"Zan, I don't regret our time together. No matter what happens."
"Course not—we were friends and crew, sis."
"So at least... if you're gonna die, do it in your cradle here, cozy in the gods' embrace."
"...Ah, so you were the one sendin' me cash all sneaky-like. Heh heh..."
Mortis insisted it was payment for all the times Zan had saved her head at sea—no misunderstanding. But Zan flashed a sly grin, chiding her for not just visiting and chatting instead.
That captain's death—her first real captain—had been a shock. The betrayal by a trusted comrade left deep scars. Over fifty years, isolation grew as comrades faded, emotions drying up in solitude.
The misery of immortality, you could call it. Clutching a fleeting moment of memory, living the rest in endless reminiscence.
"My father always talks about my mother too. Even if he can't see her anymore, he loved her. That sustains us. You'll have that too, Zan."
"Sheesh... Ya look the same, but yer heart's older than mine, sis... Where's that hotheaded, smash-everything dullahan I knew?"
"Can't be a hothead forever, right?"
Stroking her fully aged little sister's hand, a tear traced her cheek. Zan wiped it gently without looking, then pulled her head to her chest, lying back and drawing up the covers.
Feeling the slow heartbeat, Mortis prayed softly for it to beat till tomorrow, then closed her eyes.
Hornigold, you're probably still kicking out there on these seas.
She'd spot his name now and then in the papers at the All Gods Temple. Pirate King, leading an invincible fleet, founding a Pirate Kingdom—unbowed by time's tide, standing firm against the world to chase his dream.
If the captain were alive, he'd say, Yeah, that's a real man, laughing off a knife to the chest.
But if I meet you, Hornigold, I'll kill you. She'd sworn to God to smash your skull— the one I couldn't back then—right in front of Zan.
She never wanted to meet again. But if she did—she'd send your soul straight to the gods.
That knife stabbed into a dullahan's cold heart... I won't endure unless I return the favor.