Chapter Text
Roman loved the sea.
It’s where he was born, after all, three months into a grueling journey overseas in a less-than-standard ship his mother had only boarded for him. She’d told him about it, late at night when the candles grew dim and the crackling of the fire was the only sound in their little home.
There was a war in their home country, one that had started years ago and saw no sign of ending. Two kingdoms, no peace. Neither king wanted to yield, too prideful to make peace but too low on soldiers to win the war. There were slaughters in every city, and blood flowing in every street. Not even the nobles were spared; Roman had heard the horror stories told grimly over mugs of ale. Woman hung in the streets, children ripped from their mothers arms, families locked in burning houses.
The war had claimed his father. He’d been called off, sent him into a battle he wouldn’t return from. So his mother muster every ounce of bravery in her, promised herself the war would never take something from her again, and stepped aboard the rickety vessel that would deliver her and her child to salvation.
And she found it, nearly a year later. It had been a hard year, with threats of storms and pillagers always looming overhead. But she’d stepped into land triumphant, with Roman on her hip and a new life ahead of her. They’d settled into a cozy little house that was seated just on the boundary between the forest and the beach, and his mother had worked as a seamstress, making decent money. Enough to clothe them, keep them fed, and make sure they stayed in their quiet little house by the sea. Roman had spent his younger days collecting seashells and smooth, worn shards of glass, fishing off the beach and scrambling through tide pools, pretending to battle pirates and sea serpents.
Now it was years later, and his mother, bless her heart, was gone and passed, leaving Roman alone to build a life for himself.
And so I did. Roman thought to himself, eyeing the horizon through his looking glass. The boards of the crows nest creaked under his feet with each turn of the waves, a gentle rhythm that seemed to lull into a sense of comfort. This ship was his; he’d work his way up from a deckhand to a captain employed by the crown, trusted with important cargo and information. The gilded lion was a beauty, large enough to fit a sizable crew and then some, with well made masts and a good length. It had taken a while, but he’d made it.
“Roman!” A voice called from below, snapping Roman out of his thoughts. He turned to see a tiny figure below, one hand cupped around their mouth in an attempt to be heard over the winds that lashed at the sails and the other waving frantically. Roman waved back, slipping his spyeglass back into its pouch at his hip. Swinging himself over the edge and grabbing a rope, Roman slid towards the deck below, laughing all the way.
Finally reaching the deck, Roman carded his fingers through his bangs, fixing what the wind had tried to hard to undo.
“Roman, you know sliding down the ropes like that’s is bad for your hands!” Patton chided, though with a smile on his face. The cat that was always perched on his shoulder meowed, as if it too was chiding him.
“That’s captain Roman to you,” Roman shot back, grinning like a fool, reaching out a hand to scratch the cat under its chin. Patton knew he was kidding. The two had grown too close too bother with silly things like titles and such. “Anyways, Patton, what is it that you needed?”
The breezy smile on his face seemed to melt into an uncharacteristically grim expression, lips pressed together and eyebrows furrowed.
“Logan says a message came from mainland through the scire stone. He needs you in your cabin. He seems a little… stressed about it,”
Roman nodded, striding towards the door to his cabin. “Thanks, Patton!” He called over his shoulder, before setting himself to the task at hand.
Pushing in the door to his cabin, Roman couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead. It wasn’t in his nature to worry; there were too many things to think about that were certain. He couldn't waste time on what-ifs. Not with a crew depending on him. But the scire stone was only used for essential information, things that were utmost importance.
As he stepped into the cabin, he saw Logan, stooping over the large map centered on the table that took up most of the room. A large cluster of crystals sat in the corner, inlaid in an elegantly carved wooden stand. This was the scire stone, an enchanted and very valuable crystal. With this, a man could communicate with land despite being leagues away. Roman was lucky to secure one for their ship, though it had taken more than a few favors.
Logan didn't seem to notice him at first, and Roman could see how… put-off he seemed. The glasses that were always perched neatly on the bridge of his nose were askew, and a hand was buried in his hair, eyes focused in concentration. Roman coughed, letting his presence be known.
“There you are.” Logan said, standing up straighter and fixing his glasses. “I assume Patton told you about the message.”
Roman nodded. “Yes. Who have we been contacted by? And for what cause?” He questioned, walking closer to Logan and the map.
“It was the admiral of the royal armada.”
Roman balked with surprise. “Are you… are you certain?” He asked.
“Yes, Roman, you know I would not joke about a matter such as this.”
“Well, I’m flattered!” Roman said with a smile. “but I’m going to assume this wasn’t a call for pleasure.”
Logan nodded. “It seems Xetraxian ship was spotted off the coast not far from here. We’ve been tasked with investigating why it’s strayed so far from the waters of its own country. It seems we are the closest Algeranian vessel.”
“Interesting,” Roman hummed, “but something’s seems to be troubling you.”
“Yes.” Logan sighed. “This just seems far too simple. One lone ship? It doesn't make any sense from a logical standpoint. I feel something else is at play here. Why else would a lone ship sail into enemy waters? This just seems like a trap to me.
Roman laughed. “A trap? Logan, even if that were the case our ship could handle whatever flimsy threat those scallywags could throw at us! and anyways, since when has Xetrax used tactics like that?”
Logan nodded, but he still seemed unsure.
“I just feel like we would be able to handle this easier if we called for assistance, perhaps wait until we can gather more information-“
Roman cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Logan, you know I value your input, yes?” He didn't wait for answer before continuing “but I’m sure this is nothing like that. We can handle it! We’ve just got to take the chance. And if something is amiss, well, you can tell me you were right. Deal?”
Logan shook his head. “Roman, as captain of this ship you must think this through more. Yes, it could just be a single ship that happened to be from Xetrax. But I wouldn't propose to you an idea that was far fetched. It would be in our best interest to play it safe. any mistake will reflect back on you, and I doubt you want that”
Roman grit his teeth. “Logan, you may be first mate, but I am the one running things around here, understand? Now, we’re setting sail for the last location the Xetraxian ship was seen.” He turned his back on Logan, and strode purposefully towards the door, grabbing his scabbard on the way. “Prepare the cannons, and make sure the crew is ready.” Roman paused, turning around with a smirk. “And Logan?”
He heard a begrudging “Yes?” From behind him.
“Please, stop doubting me. I’m not the one that bought my way onto a ship.”
And with that he shut the door.