Still Not Bitten? (5)
Under the bright, scorching sunlight typical of a port city facing the Southern Great Ocean, dozens of sailors were locked in a fierce brawl, fists flying and cards scattered everywhere. Curses and shouts filled the air, bloodied men crumpled to the ground, while others cheered from the decks above—a total uproar.
To avoid getting caught up in it, I pulled François aside to the roadside. Stunned by the scene she'd never witnessed before, she clung tightly to my side, speechless.
"What... what's going on? This is...?"
"Common sight around here. Looks like an enemy fleet docked all at once."
Out at sea, they'd have boarded each other's decks for a proper swordfight, but here they were just trading punches. There was a reason for that. The Zarela Principality was neutral territory. Its massive port city of Daham raked in fortunes from trade. In situations like this, declaring neutrality was the smart play—whoever was fighting for whatever reason, they could profit from it. Maintaining neutrality also kept fleets from every nation docking here. Ships paid hefty mooring fees, after all, and that added up nicely. It wasn't just Daham; every city in the principality operated the same way. All of Zarela's policies and governance revolved around piling up gold coins. That was because Grand Duke Zhelan himself had risen from merchant to ruler.
A neutral principality ruled by merchants. With their immense capital, they could manipulate markets for any commodity they wanted or even buy out a small kingdom outright if they felt like it. And in a port city like this, those brutish sailors were just brawling like idiots... Wait. What? Those guys? Their uniforms looked familiar—they were our Verabche navy... Who the hell were they fighting?
Oh, damn. The ones trading blows with our navy were from the Elion Kingdom. These were the very bastards who'd smashed our fleet earlier this year over ownership of Hayton Island in the Western Great Ocean.
Verabche and Elion were both a long way from Daham. Must be their ocean-going fleets. Judging by the wagons loaded with crates and sacks behind the brawlers, some quarrel had erupted during resupply.
That's when I spotted something bizarre. Amid the deadly melee, a few people were sneaking around the navy's wagons, pilfering goods...?
Led by a freckled woman with light brown skin, the gang was slyly eyeing their surroundings as they hauled off crates one by one. Even though they were blatantly carrying them away, no one noticed—the sailors were too busy fighting.
Right in front of a naval free-for-all, swiping their supplies? Were they insane?
Then, from the other side, dozens of Verabche marines charged in with a roar, still wearing their bright red wool coats despite the sweltering southern heat, clubs at the ready as they plunged into the chaos.
Where the hell were the officers, letting the grunts go wild like this? I figured they'd ditched the troops for some brothel. But there, in the back, was a blonde officer in uniform swinging a long sword and bellowing.
"You Verabche land dogs! Quit playing sailor if it doesn't suit you and go back to digging dirt!"
"Crush those seal pups flat! This is payback for Hayton!"
Our side's commander, responding in kind, was already in the thick of it, gleefully throwing punches. Captains not only failing to break it up but egging them on. If they kept this up, port security would have their hides.
No sooner had I said that than cavalry thundered in from the opposite direction, shaking the ground. The young lead rider extended his hand toward the side where the ships were moored. Suddenly, the sea surface bulging against the pier swelled up, and a wall of water surged skyward.
The water rose several meters before slowly tilting and crashing down over the brawling sailors' heads.
Whoa... that mage was still working here.
Drenched by the surprise deluge, the sailors panicked and huddled.
Freeze!
With a thunderous voice amplified by magic that rattled their skulls, the mage bellowed.
This is Daham, a neutral zone! Cease all hostilities immediately and withdraw!
The gray-clad cavalry menacingly wove their horses through the sailors.
"Everyone, withdraw! Break it up now!"
Daham's infamous no-nonsense port security jabbed and shoved the sailors with spear shafts. Combined with the massive horses barreling through like they meant to trample them, the navies had no choice but to separate.
Return to your ships! Where are the commanders? Both sides, get over here now!
But the captains, heads boiling with rage, just glared at each other, seething.
Seeing this, the mage snapped his fingers, igniting a blue flame of mana at the tip.
Get over here!
It was obvious they'd suffer the humiliation of being dragged over by magic in front of their men if they didn't comply, so the captains stomped over grudgingly.
Still mounted, the mage looked down at them imperiously.
"You've violated the Neutral Port Usage Act. Shore leave is suspended until departure. Exception for immediate survival supplies: one officer and five crew only, and only with port authority permission. Understood?"
The Elion female captain snarled at the draconian measure.
"We need to sort out who started it, don't we? These land dogs provoked us first! Mocked me for being a woman on a ship!"
"Watch your damn mouth, seal bitch! Wouldn't have known you were female if you hadn't said it!"
"What the fuck?! That all you got?!"
"Bring your ship out! I'll plant your underwater tombstone right off Daham!"
Shut it!
The mage roared, and the captains clutched their ears, staggering back.
"If you don't like our measures, leave now. Head out beyond neutral waters and sink each other to your hearts' content."
When push came to actual sea battle, the captains fell silent, staring blankly at the mage.
"I've made it clear. Everything I said goes on official record to the authority. If you don't like it, shove off. Otherwise, do as you're told. Violate it, and..."
The mage twitched his fingers, and seawater slithered up onto the pier like a living serpent.
That was one reason Daham's port security had its reputation. The mage had the authority to capsize noncompliant vessels with magic. For a small fishing boat, maybe, but flipping warships displacing thousands of tons was near impossible. Yet this mage was one of the continent's rare few who could pull it off.
And with that insane power, he served the Zarela Principality as a civil servant on a government salary. As Mideronde would say, the world is vast, and lunatics abound.
To find a ship heading to our desired waters, we headed to the port authority. Along the way, François marveled endlessly at the grand warships lined up.
"My god. How can ships be that huge...?"
No wonder she was awed—even partially submerged, some towered over our inn. You had to crane your neck to see the top of the masts. Warships, freighters, deep-sea fishing vessels... every type imaginable. Daham was always a madhouse of ships, past and present.
Wait... what was that?
Amid the majestic vessels floated a tiny, rickety cog ship, precarious as could be. Cogs varied in shape and size, but this one was ridiculously small. Barnacles crusted the bow, and the furled sails were frayed at the edges—it looked ancient. Wedged between mighty warships, one bad wave and it'd be smashed...
Probably a lowly nearshore fishing boat scraping by.
"That ship's really beat-up. Looks ready to sink any second."
François thought the same. We paused to look, then kept walking.
The port authority clerk stared at me blankly after hearing my request, as if I'd lost my mind.
"Where did you say...?"
"Trying to get near Grovbrook Island. Any ships?"
"Grovbrook Island...? Why go there...?"
"To catch some Moonlight Cod."
"Wh-what? Moonlight what?"
His reaction confirmed two things: No one but lizardmen went near Grovbrook Island. And no one but lizardmen knew about Moonlight Cod. But wasn't this common knowledge already?
"Any ships?"
"Well... Daham sees every lunatic under the sun, but even here, no one's crazy enough for Grovbrook."
Still, he flipped through the thick ledger.
"Hmm... Navies, skip... Merchant ships avoid it, obviously... Exploration vessels, then..."
He kept turning pages, finding nothing until near the end.
"Ugh... What now? No survey or pioneer ships today, and those go farthest."
"I see. Do they come often?"
"One a week, sure. Plenty of undiscovered islands in the Southern Great Ocean."
"A week...? When was the last?"
"This morning. Already sailed."
"Ah, damn. Got it..."
Back to the inn and wait a week, then...
"And... if you're going with your wife, it'll be tough."
Mistaking François for my wife, he added.
"Sailors rarely take women aboard. Elion ships might not care, but most do."
Hearing that, François looked glum.
"Bertrand. Let's... head back for now."
"Sure, François."
As we left the authority, someone slammed my shoulder hard—only to rebound and tumble to the ground.
"Ugh... what rock are you...?"
Muttering, he scrambled up and dashed inside, dodging me.
"You okay, Bertrand?"
"Yeah. In a hurry, I guess."
Just as we reached the entrance, a clerk's startled voice rang from behind.
"Wait! You're going to Grovbrook Island?!"