Shadow Clan's Mercenaries (1)
A single medium galley fleeing for its life. And twelve small galleys in hot pursuit.
A precarious scene was unfolding on the open sea.
"Damn it! Is there nothing else we can dump?!"
Arwen, the captain of the fleeing ship, tore at her hair.
The pursuers were now close enough to spot with the naked eye.
Soon the boatswain called out to Arwen and pointed to one side.
"What about these guys?"
He was pointing at a pack of massive direwolves.
They'd tossed the sleds into the sea, but they couldn't bring themselves to do the same with these beasts.
Arwen's eyes bulged as she bellowed,
"If you throw my precious babies overboard, I'll kill you!"
The dog-and-wolf lover was fuming.
Owen didn't try to stop her.
He wasn't keen on dumping the direwolves that had served them so well into the frigid North Sea.
Besides, if it came to a boarding action, they'd make reliable fighters.
Just then, bright red flashes erupted from some of the pursuing ships.
The moment she saw them, Arwen yelled,
"Down!"
A cannonball streaked past with a chilling whistle right after her shout.
Whoooosh! Zip!
Wooden splinters exploded across the deck in a deafening crash.
BOOM!
Crouched low, Owen vividly watched a cannonball graze the mainmast.
A chunk was gouged from the thick mast's side.
He was as shocked as the swaying mast itself.
In their current situation, if that broke, they were done for.
"The sea really isn't my thing."
Owen hauled himself up on the wildly pitching deck.
At least the silver lining was that the incoming shots were sparse.
Most of a galley's cannons were mounted along the broadsides.
It only had two forward-facing guns at the bow—and even those were limited to newer models. Half the pursuers couldn't fire at all.
Whoosh!
Another cannonball flew wide, missing the ship entirely.
Chasing and being chased atop these rolling waves... their accuracy's abysmal.
Owen counted his small blessing.
But they needed a plan.
They'd only stayed ahead by jettisoning cargo like mad.
"Arwen, got anything? You're the captain."
"Ugh...! I'm thinking!"
Arwen gnawed her lip in frustration.
Then the sea began to fill with fog.
A boon for the fugitives.
"What's with the fog?"
"This area's all ria coastline," Arwen replied matter-of-factly. "Tons of islands, super convoluted. Fog rolls in all the time here."
"Might be able to lose them."
"Nah, not enough... Ah!"
Arwen snapped her fingers as an idea hit, then bolted for the captain's cabin without a backward glance.
"Wh-what?!"
Owen glanced at the nearby dark elves, who just shrugged helplessly.
"The fog's thinning their cannon fire. No worries here—go check it out."
"Right."
Owen nodded and headed to the cabin, where Arwen was poring over a sea chart, muttering to herself.
"What? What's up?"
She beckoned him over eagerly and jabbed at a spot on the map.
"I've got it! I do!"
"Huh?"
Suddenly, a cannonball shattered the cabin's wide glass window.
Crash!
Amid the racket, it pulverized the door too.
Arwen screamed and clung to Owen.
"Kyaa!"
It was the first time he'd seen her like this.
Her stunning beauty made her look like a damsel in distress right then.
But she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and unleashed a barrage of foul curses.
"You landlubber fucks! Cursed sons of bitches! I'll boil you in brine, you filthy swabs!"
It was the rough talk of a salt-hardened sailor.
Owen's illusions shattered fast.
Unaware or uncaring, Arwen prodded him.
"C'mon, Heroicus. Time to reveal my brilliant plan."
She grabbed his hand and strode out, kicking the wrecked door aside.
Thud!
On deck, she rallied the officers.
"Listen up! We're heading straight for Madmen's Alley! Perfect timing—we're close. This is heaven-sent!"
Most, Owen included, had no clue what she meant.
What the hell was Madmen's Alley?
But one man got it instantly: the old boatswain who'd served Arwen for ninety years. He scowled, his face souring as he tsked.
"Tch tch!"
Arwen bristled.
"Hey! I know what you're thinking! But I'm not that reckless kid anymore!"
She was already defending herself.
But the boatswain's retort left her speechless.
"Captain, looks like your wild youth's paying off now."
"Ugh... Fine, I get it! I was reflecting! I know you suffered back then!"
Arwen balled her fists, ears perked up.
In the end, the boatswain bowed. "As you command."
"Ahem!"
Arwen cleared her throat and launched into the briefing.
The area was an archipelago of complex terrain, she explained.
Back in her piracy days, she'd fled here whenever cornered.
She knew every inch.
"You were a pirate?"
Arwen scratched her cheek sheepishly.
"Eh... youthful memories."
"Oh? Impressive."
Anyway, there was a narrow strait nearby, choked with reefs—a notorious hellhole even among pirates.
Navigating it was considered madness.
"That's how it turned into sport later. How deep into Madmen's Alley could we push a galley?"
Even with her knowledge, full passage was impossible, she admitted.
The pirates' bets were about depth.
They'd needed towboats to get out.
"We're luring the Black Briar bastards in. They'll blunder after us and wreck on the reefs."
Owen had questions.
"Wait, you said we can't pass through. Won't we get trapped too?"
"We go halfway, launch the boats, and hit the nearby island! Fog's perfect cover."
"In this murk, won't we hit first?"
"Sure, but nothing's certain at sea. I bet in worse as a kid."
"...You're completely nuts."
"Rebellious phase. You humans go through it in your teens, right?"
"The man in front of you is sixteen. More mature than a 200-year-old dark elf, at least."
"......No."
Arwen sweated bullets and averted her eyes, muttering under her breath at a glance his way.
"Nosy little shit..."
"Sigh."
Owen exhaled and got practical.
"More importantly, what if they smell the trap and bail?"
"Don't worry! Got a surefire lure."
Hands on hips, she commanded,
"Hang that Bete bitch from the mast!"
"Whoa..."
Owen gaped at her ruthlessness.
Soon, the captive Bete was dragged up.
"Let go! How dare you, you insolent curs!"
"Love that set of lungs. Bete, you're helping us today."
Arwen briefed her curtly.
Explaining it at all screamed malice.
"You think I'll scream? Idiot!"
Bete ground her teeth.
"Torture with fire? Stab me? I won't make a peep. Hell, tie me up there—I'll yell it's a trap!"
"No issue."
Arwen cast a casual spell.
A purple glow enveloped Bete's mouth.
"Mmph? Mmmph?!"
"Speech seal. You can only howl from the throat now."
"Aaaargh! Mmmph!"
Bete's face stayed defiant despite the shock.
Owen translated slyly.
"She's saying, 'Think that'll make me cooperate?'"
"I've got ways."
Arwen grinned wickedly, stroking Bete's cheek, then whispered in her long ear.
"Poor Bete. Think I don't know you? Shame we drifted apart, but we were friends as kids."
"Mmmph! Mmph!"
To the soldiers: "Fetch rats. Big, nasty ones."
Bete paled.
Rodents infested wooden ships—they'd grab some quick.
"Mmmph! Aaaargh!"
Her face drained of color.
"Hey? No screaming, right?"
"Eeeeek! Arrrghhh!"
"Ar-what? Kyahahahaha!"
Arwen cackled, utterly satisfied at Bete's ashen terror.
Her shrill laugh echoed over the mast.
Rats in hand, Arwen strung Bete up with them.
Bete feared nothing—except rats.
She shrieked uncontrollably at their wriggling against her skin.
"KyaAAAAH! Eeeeek!"
It worked like a charm.
Spotting her, the sporadic cannon fire ceased.
Dark silhouettes in the fog pursued relentlessly.
They couldn't retreat.
They'd sworn to rescue Bete on the Grand Matron's orders.
Returning empty-handed meant death.
"Cease fire! Do not shoot!"
The pursuit commander ordered his ships.
"No choice—close in for boarding! Full speed!"
"But the fog's too thick—it's dangerous!"
He grabbed his adjutant's collar despite the plea.
"Losing Lady Bete is a hundred times worse. Adjutant."
"...Understood!"
The pursuers pressed on fiercely but hit their limit.
The fog, plus Arwen's mastery of the terrain—her old playground from pirate days.
Two hours later, they entered Madmen's Alley.
"Take Bete down now."
Arwen glanced up and ordered.
Bete had passed out long ago.
Impressive pipes, but she cracked.
"Load her on a boat later. She's coming to the island."
"Aye, Captain!"
In the narrow strait called Madmen's Alley, the ship slowed drastically.
"Reef sails one and three!"
"Aye!"
They crept forward.
But soon, a scraping grind echoed from the hull.
Screeech!
Faces blanched on deck.
Yet the ship pressed on.
Arwen hovered by the helmsman, nagging nonstop.
"Slacking on the wheel, huh? Back in my day...!"
Deeper in, reefs jutted like mini-islands everywhere.
The ship threaded the tight gaps.
Until it couldn't.
Screeech! BOOM!
A thunderous crack—she'd struck.
The massive hull lurched, tilting slightly.
"Whoaaa!"
Screams erupted.
Arwen lit into her crew, eyes blazing.
"You cowards! Move it! Unless you wanna die!"
She slapped slackers left and right; they snapped to.
Abandoning the holed ship, they evacuated fast.
Arwen looked heartbroken at the loss.
A captain's private grief, perhaps.
Owen silently took her hand amid the chaos.
"Ah...!"
Her ears perked, eyes widening in surprise, then she smiled softly.
"Thanks, Heroicus."
The boats ferried the group to a nearby uninhabited isle.
Too many for one trip—multiple runs needed.
"Uninhabited?"
"We'll steal their ships. Even idiots wrecking won't total all of 'em."
"And if we fail?"
"Eh... Hold out here, get rescued in twenty, thirty years?"
"......"
"Ships pass sometimes. Young pirates betting, like I said."
Dark elf time sense was inhuman.
"Sigh."
As Owen sighed en route to the isle, a new force arrived nearby.
The Moon Shadow Clan's fleet.
Thinking the Black Briar enemy had struck Stenstaten, the Grand Matron herself had joined.
They'd sortied boldly, but hadn't found the foe yet.
Even rough coordinates made it hard at sea.
So they spread out, scouting.
Soon, one ship spotted something.
"Got 'em! That's their fleet for sure! Hm?"
Something was off.
Definitely Black Briar ships by the look—but racing away from Stenstaten.
"Where the hell are they rushing to?"
The scout puzzled, then prioritized reporting.
"Emergency report! To the flagship!"