“Pick up the slack boys and girls, full speed ahead!” the captain shouted over the strong blowing winds and the crew began to assemble. Lorena gripped the loose rope between her gloved fingers and ran it through until it was finally tight enough and reeled back against its pull. “Struggling over there re?” came a voice piqued with amused mischief. It belonged to the cook, Crawley. He was a handsome man with broad shoulders, dark skin with greasy blonde hair tied back hair, dazzling blue eyes and a smile that made her weak. Dressed as per usual in his musty, loose white shirt and leather breeches that extended halfway down to where they tucked beneath the linen of his boots. Off to one side Crawley watched her, his arms folded with a smug expression.
“Help me out,” Lorena pleaded as the rope started slowly dragging the delicate weight of her body across the deck. She was better known for her dexterity than her strength.
“Alright,” the sailor agreed and came up behind her, lifting on large muscular arm to grab the rope down, holding Lorena in place. A touch embarrassed the noble woman flushed, hoping the cold of the wind against her face would be enough of an excuse it. Working together, Lorena and Crawley eventually managed rein in the sheets and knot the rope to the ship.
“Your turn to help me,” the man said with a wide, cheeky smile. Conscious of the space between the, or lack of -Lorena took a step back.
“What do you need cookie?” She asked, using his pet name. Over the time Lorena had spent assisting the ship in it's rounds through Rhakros to Andaris, the noble had become close with many of the members. Her presence had become somewhat of a subject of argument among some of the crew. As always, Lorena had a habit of being a little bit naughty which as it went, made the sailors as rambunctious and the Captain knew it. Felt, the man running the ship had warned her against flirting with the crew members and utterly failed at the task. Crawley had been too much for her. On top of being strong and independant, he was the ships cook.
“I need you to help me move some of the vegetables,” he said, leaning back against the side. It was a fair task in return for the help she had given him, and was better than sitting around doing nothing until the win settled, or they nerd to tack again.
“Alright,” she agreed, the corners of her mouth lifting into a smile “you secretly just want to spend time with me doncha?”
Lorena’s eyes spread across the rest of the busy crew and Crawley laughed “That's no secret.”
Lorena had become familiar with the cook. She would often wander into the kitchens to steal a piece of food if she was peckish or hide there if she had gone a tad too far with on of the crew members. Fortunately for her, Felt was a patient captain and appreciated the theatrics of her cheeky nature. Following Crawley through the oak framed ship, Lorena descended down into the hull where they stored the food. “More Fish stew tonight,” he informed, pointing to a barrel of root vegetables “Take a sack of those. I’ll grab the water.”
Taking a loose stack from a small oil in the corner Lorena started to pile a collection of various vegetables. Much to her surprise the boat was reasonably well stocked. Most of the vegetables were long lasting though. Onions, potatoes… and a random leek. “Cookie,” Lorena said and presented the rotting vegetable to cookie with a raised brow.
“I forgot to use that,” he admitted, snatching it from her hand to cast it aside “remind me to throw it overboard.”
The woman blinked at the act, she knew men were a mess but that was beyond unsavory. Something in her stomach churned, the idea of eating rotten vegetables was not her most fond thought. Thank the immortals the meat was cured or dried.
At least ten bits passed until they finally returned to the galley and made it into the kitchens. Carefully lifting the vegetables onto the counter, she had discovered her muscles had began to ache from lifting. Stretching out her fingers, she let the blood flow back into them and watched Crowley gracefully lay the water beloe the bench “the same as usual then?” she asked, biting her tongue as she watched the ripple of muscle beneath his dark flesh.
“Yes,” he replied, grabbing a knife as he dexterously took the potatoes and started to peel away the skins. With a quiet sigh Lorena turned away from Crawley, adamant to at least try to abide by Felt’s rules. Behind them was an empty dinner hall, that would later be bustling with other crew members all lining up to eat Cookie’s food.
“I'm going to go and help out on deck,” she said turning her head to smile back at him “I'll see you later.”
Cookie flickered her a look of disappointed understanding. They both knew the deal and as much as curiosity tempted her, Felts wrath held her back. Wandering back toward the deck Lorena swung around the ropes onto the netting and foot by foot climbed her way into the crows nest. The weather was fair and the job of a lookout was often mundane. “Hey,” she greeted the woman sat in the small circular basket and sat beside her. One of the only other women on the ship, Zyhra was a strong woman with an excitement for adventure. Due to the discomfort of sleeping with the men, Lorena would often stayed near the woman.
“ ‘iya Lor,” Zyhra replied with a smile. She was a pretty woman with short boyish red hair and green eyes, Aukari by blood and was good at keeping Lorena warm on cold nights. Her attire, unlike the rest of the shabby crew was elegant with a long draped cloak of red linen with a golden trim that extended down to where her black leather boots met her knees. “Crawley giving ya a hard time again?”
A nervous smile lifted on Lorena’s face “Yeah,” she said, taking Zyhra’s hand and looking out onto the horizon. A solemn calm had entered the waves and the ship rocked with ease across the blue expanse of water. Hopefully the wind would change direction soon and the crew would be put into harder work. “Too bad,” Zyhra smiled, squeezing her fingers around Rena’s hand “guy is fresh outta luck.”
Silence met Lorena’s lips as her eyes scanned across the expanse of the ocean. “Anything interesting?” she asked, carefully stealing the spyglass from Zyhra’s grasp and looking into it. Zyhra casually sat back, yawning in protest for the post assigned to her “Got to people watch another trading ship for the space of about thirty breaks,” she groaned and looked over to Lorena “see anything?”
Through the small hole Lorena excitedly scanned the seascape. There was… ocean, more ocean, ocean, seagull, ocean ocean and… ship? Lorena focused upon the vessel that sailed on the edge of the falling horizon, it was going fast. “Zyhra,” she said, handing the scope to her “what direction is that?”
Zhrya’s eyes glanced up to the skies and the position of the moon in relation to their location. “Judging by the trajectory of the sun and the northern star breaking through the skyline. That’s west.”
Lorena’s eyes followed where Zyhra was looking, dumfounded by the notion. Her father had always read stars, but she’d never seen someone us it in practice. “The north star huh?” Lorena marvelled at the little pale dot on the sunset of the painted sky. Her attention turned back to the oncoming ship “Who are they?”
Zhyra trained her eye through the telescope “Other merchants, looks like they’re east,” the woman said, still watching through the glass “let the captain know.”
Obedient to the request Lorena broke away from the warm contact between them and made her way down the rope and swung around back onto the ship. “Bend your legs when you land!” someone called. Panicked, Lorena pushed her weight from the rope and rolled onto the floor like doing a rolley polley when she was a kid. Only, from height and with her eyes closed… did it work? Her eyes fluttered open as the crew looked at her, bewildered by her clumsy acrobatics. Whatever grace she had wished to achieved had failed miserably, but for whatever reason she didn't feel much pain other than a light graze from skidding across the wood.
“Captain!” she yelled, rushing to the stern of the boat “a ship is coming in from the west, sailing toward the eastern continent.”
Busy talking to another member of the crew, Felt turned his head yo halt his conversation and frowned. “Enemies?” he asked, starring out to the seas.
“We don't know. It looks like another merchant ship,” Lorena replied, breathless from the hasty climb down.
“The winds are in our favour. If we turn now we’ll loose momentum. Reygan, tell some of the men to man the ballistae,” Felt ordered and looked down to Lorena with a rugged smile “and stay out of trouble little lady.” Weathered from his time at sea, Felt was an older Captain with a lot of experience. In his youth he may have been good looking, but the years had waned on the mans complexion.
“Yes sir.”
Breaks past and with much relief the merchants paid little interest in their cargo. Dinner was served and with it much much more…
Lorena would be in trouble the next day.
