Mysterygirl145
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The first few rays of sunlight were already fighting their way back through the low-hanging dark cloud cover that had gathered during the night, when Eric finally allowed himself to sink exhausted into a chair. His white navy uniform contrasted sharply with the deep circles under his eyes that adorned his face. The men of the Royal Navy were still busy getting the ships afloat, which was an enormous feat in the prevailing squalls. The forces of nature demanded full concentration from the sailors and did not forgive the slightest mistake. Any sailor would have advised against going out into the open sea in such truly foul weather, but Eric had wanted to put his promise into practice immediately. The search for his godson had top priority, but Eric had also given further thought to the precautions they would take to protect Melody. He would speak to the necessary tradesmen as soon as he was back on land.

After checking one last time that his two sunshines were well, he made his way onto the largest of the Crown's four imposing sailing ships. The sails of the royal fleet, standing full in the wind, stood out with their bright colour against the storm formations in the sky and carried the ships out into the open sea, where they finally split into the various points of the compass. The increasingly heavy rain hit Eric in the face and took away his vision as well as that of his helmsman. Gusts rocked the waves more and more, so that the swell gradually made even the experienced men sick to their stomachs. But time was a precious commodity that they could not let pass unnecessarily at this moment.

Ares' captors also had their burden to brave the weather, the storm had foiled the planned stop at a nearby port. The unpredictable gusts had made mooring at the small unprotected dock impossible, leaving the large three-master anchored some distance from land. Only a few of the crew had been sent ashore in a dinghy to get the bare essentials of provisions before setting off on the longer journey to their home port.

The rain and spray were a real relief to Ares, whose skin had already dried out uncomfortably far in places due to the persistent wind. The backward salt burned in the several gaping wounds that covered him from head to fin tip. The young crown prince was at the end of his tether and had lost all hope of rescue. Exhausted, he hung his head and looked down into the dark water with dull eyes. Only subconsciously did he notice how some of the sailors who had disembarked came back. Loud bawling followed the men in everything they did, no matter how trivial. Ares cursed every single one of these sounds. With each breath that he was tied to this ship longer, his rage grew, his disgust and the sheer abysmal hatred he felt for these monsters who held him captive here for their amusement. He vowed to make them pay for everything, if only he could somehow escape from this nightmare.

At the other end of the ship, the first mate had just entered the captain's cabin to report.

"Sir, our supplies are fully replenished and nothing stands in the way of an early departure. If you will allow me, I will give the order to the men," spoke the man in whom the captain had the utmost confidence.

"Good. We'll set sail as soon as this damnable storm has calmed down a bit," the captain replied, without even glancing at the man standing at attention in front of him. Engrossed in his yellowed charts lying on his large desk, he dismissed the other with a casual wave.

The first mate, however, did not move. He struggled with himself whether it was a good idea to tell his captain about the rumours that some of the men had picked up in the taverns, or whether he would consider it a waste of his precious time. The captain was known and above all feared for his mood swings. He was not to be bothered with sailor's yarn, which in all likelihood had sprung from the rum-fogged brains of the hired scoundrels. But what if this information was true after all? He swallowed noticeably and thus also drew the captain's attention to the fact that he had not moved from the spot.

"What else is there?" the captain snapped at his man, signalling that his patience was stretched to breaking point.

"Sir, something has come to my attention that, if true, could be of great importance," the mate summoned up his courage and confronted the captain with the information he had picked up, "it seems we have a very important member of the underwater society tied to our bow there, sir. They say the Royal Fleet is getting ready to sail in search of the boy. With respect, sir, I think it best to just throw the lad back into the sea before we tangle with the King's ships."

For a time there was absolute silence between the two, only the creaking of wood resulting from the strong wind. A gold goblet, emptied of all but a few drops of red wine, rolled back and forth between them in time with the waves.

"Are you trying to tell me what to do?" the captain finally asked dangerously calmly.

"No, sir, that was not my intention," the first man instantly rowed back rhetorically, but remained outwardly firm. Showing weakness now would be a fatal mistake, he knew that better than anyone. Enraged, the captain dashed forward and grabbed his collar, pulling his left ear close to his mouth.

"I," the captain whispered, "command this ship. I decide what happens to the fishlad. I rule these waters!" He paused meaningfully before putting some space between them again. Almost stabbing the other with his dark eyes, he continued in a loud voice, "Let the royal frigates come, we'll sink them like any other ship that messes with us. I will not throw this treasure back into the waves of the sea. Now get out!" he barked at the strapping man, who, despite the rough treatment, still made no face.

"At your command, sir. I will arrange for our immediate departure," he replied with a slight reverential bow before stepping out of the cabin without turning his back on his captain.

With wide-ranging energetic steps, the first mate then rushed across the deck up to the wheel.

"Cast off! Now! Come on you lazy bastards, move your asses! Prepare the ship! We're setting sail," he bellowed in his usual commanding tone over the heads of the scattered crew. Instantly a jolt went through the entire ship, the sailors, some of them still drunk on alcohol or asleep, scurried around in every nook and cranny to obey the first mate's orders as quickly as possible. Grimly, he followed the men's efforts to get the big sailing ship afloat in record time.

"Hoist the mainsail and ready the guns!" he shouted across the deck after everyone had found their places, earning a few confused looks that were short-lived. The prestige they had for this man, who lurked above them like a bird of prey and would punish even the smallest mistake, was too great.

Great unease had settled in him, the captain's opinion was unmistakable, his position unchangeable. They were heading straight to their doom, he suspected, and yet there was nothing he could do, there was no question of mutiny. No one stood against their captain without regretting it in a big way, be it his enemies or his own men. He was right in what he had said to him in the cabin, it was unwritten law that he ruled these waters, not the king below the surface of the sea and certainly not the cowardly landlubber who hid behind the white walls of his castle and sent his son to sea to apprehend privateers such as they were.

He put on his telescope and scanned the horizon for the great white sails with the royal crest. The Amethyst was a wonderful sailor, she had everything he dreamed of in a ship, despite her size she was sleek and manoeuvrable perfect for quick manoeuvres and yet far from lightly armed with sixteen gun ports on either side, she had the firepower of a ship about twice her size. They were not easy prey, no, they were the predators, and yet he wanted to avoid a confrontation with one or even more of the naval ships. He fervently hoped that he would see her first if it came to that, and contrary to his captain's opinion, he would only lead the ship against the others in the very worst case. No treasure in the world was worth more to him than this ship and so he would not put it in danger or even sacrifice it for one. His first and foremost tactic was to avoid a clash until they had arrived at their home port and sold the cargo he had come to hate. He couldn't care less what the price was, the main thing was to get rid of the supposed sea prince and all those who were breathing down their necks because of him. The miserable weather didn't exactly play into his hands, even if he doubted that the scouts of other ships could make out more in the distance than he could. The storm tore at the sails and made locking the wheel an almost impossible feat. With all his weight, he braced himself in the direction he wanted to go and used one of the loose ropes to hold the ship in place. Every single man on board worked under pressure, this was their element. When it came to sailing, no matter how big drunkards and cutthroats they were, when it came to holding a ship in unsafe waters, they were the best you could find. Every little move was right and made the impossible possible. The low-hanging clouds and the pouring rain formed a grey mixture that made his telescope almost useless, and yet he did not refrain from scanning the surroundings. In the distance, he spotted a small schooner about to capsize in the roaring sea. Easy prey that he would not have missed at any other time, but now he did not want to take even this small risk and draw possible unwanted attention to them. Without further ado, he gave the rudder a new direction and the Amethyst took up a new course.

It seemed as if everything had conspired against them, as if dark forces had done everything to prevent them in their quest. Never in his years of apprenticeship at sea had Eric experienced such a storm. His gratitude for the experienced sailors could not have been greater. After he had given the order to split up into the four points of the compass and to check every ship that crossed their path, they had had to make five daring approach manoeuvres so far in order to make contact with the unknown crews. Sending out a dinghy in this weather was out of the question, unless they were desperate to get rid of some men. Eric was all the more disappointed when they found not a hint of a trace on the other ships. He weighed up whether it really made sense to continue to expose his men to this danger, but the thought of calling off the search only lingered in his mind for so long until he recalled his little nephew. Ares needed his help! At the latest at the moment when one of the sailors of the last ship checked told something about a rumour that someone had dared to catch a mermaid despite the heavy penalties, the godfather knew that he had done exactly the right thing. He could not believe that there were still people who dared to violate the newly enacted laws regarding coexistence with the sea people. This act was tantamount to high treason and would be punished with nothing less than the gallows, if those responsible were caught. The peace born of his marriage to Ariel was a precious commodity for both kingdoms and they did not want to jeopardise it. Eric still had a very personal drive in this regard to keep sea and land close. Sure, Ariel had already chosen him once, but now that she was allowed to call both worlds her own, he did not want to confront her with this choice again. But there was already a huge chasm between that desire and the reality that Morgana had torn open. Eric forced himself to keep a clear head and take care of Ares first, everything else would have to wait willy-nilly. He thanked the sailor who had given them a first lead and had him show him on a sea chart exactly where he had picked up the rumours. Shortly afterwards, he passed the coordinates on to the helmsman and they set a new course accordingly. As he had promised his father-in-law, he immediately sent a messenger down to Atlantica.

For several nautical miles they met not a soul, nothing but the wide open sea spread out before them and Eric felt the strong urge to check their course again, although he knew very well that the experienced navigator had not made a mistake. It was enough to make one's skin crawl as they finally had a track but were stuck in this storm. They had had to take in the largest of their sails as it was threatening to travel under the violent wind, so they were now nowhere near making the knots they were capable of making in better weather conditions. After several hours, the call of the sailor sitting in the crow's nest jolted Eric out of his increasingly gloomy thoughts.

"Land ho!" he shouted, making everyone crane their necks to see what he saw from his lookout. Sure enough, the outline of an island was gradually forming on the horizon in the middle of the grey storm. Immediately, everyone hurried to their places and prepared to dock, and it became clearer the closer they came to the harbour, which was tiny compared to the large frigate. Not much later, however, the ship lay lashed to the dock. Eric disembarked before the last ropes were in place and headed for the first dive he could find.

Stepping through a creaking and crookedly hinged door, he soon found himself in a dark and stuffy den, where a number of tables were scattered with men as unkempt as the surroundings suggested. They were toasting each other with large mugs, several sips of what must have been a stiff brew spilling onto the table tops and the pitted wooden floor, where they left sticky laughter in their wake. Others gambled away their belongings in a game of sailor skat. Eric, who inescapably stood out like a peacock among a few chickens in this environment, immediately attracted all eyes. Silence instantly reigned where before there had been cheerful exuberance. The high-ranking navy uniform with its abundant medals that Eric wore was something that few of those present here liked to see from such a short distance. Already, here and there, some were drawing their daggers from under the table. The fact that a whole brigade of white-uniformed men appeared behind Eric at that moment did not improve the mood at all. Conciliatingly, Eric raised his hands and affirmed that they were not here to capture anyone.

"We are looking for my nephew. We were told that someone here in this port had information that could help us. If there is anyone among you who knows more about a ship holding a mermaid captive, please tell me everything you know. If it should help to find my godson, I and the Crown will of course show our gratitude," Eric continued calmly and saw his greedy eyes flicker at his last words. He really hoped that someone here could help him and was not just after the promised reward.

"You have been anchored here overnight, your highness," the innkeeper revealed from behind his counter, earning angry looks from the other people present, who would have liked to sell Eric this information themselves, "you'd better talk to me, these cutthroats will only give you sailor's yarn and make you dig deep into your pockets for it. Sit down, I'll tell them what I know." He pointed to a bar stool in front of him and filled the glass, which he had been rubbing dry with an old rag until just now, on the counter in front of Eric. With a grateful nod, Eric complied with the innkeeper's request and took a seat on the stool. Around him, those present slowly returned to their so suddenly interrupted activities.

"If you really want to pursue and confront these men, be warned, Your Highness. Your nephew is in really big trouble. We heard that the navy was getting ready to sail and could guess that it must be because of this spectacle. Some talked about how the mermaid boy must be important, but until you stepped through that door just now, I thought, and I think most others did too, that it was just silly talk. After all, we all know that hunting the Sea Peoples has been strictly forbidden since your wedding. For my part, I dismissed the rumours as a strict crackdown by the Crown on an offence of this nature, but nowhere near something of this magnitude. I assumed the Navy was to make an example of these scoundrels. I am afraid I can tell you no more than that they left at sunrise for the south. I hope this is of some help to you."

"Many thanks, that is more than I had dared to hope for," Eric thanked him as soon as his counterpart had finished and placed a bag full of coins on the counter, "Take this as thanks for now."

"Please, your highness, that is not necessary. I only want these scoundrels to be brought to their just punishment. To take advantage of a boy...", the innkeeper broke off shaking his head, he was at a loss for words. Eric could see that behind the hard shell of this man there was an extremely soft core. He gave Eric the impression that he himself had been in a similar situation. Compassion flared up in him and benevolently he pushed the money a little further towards the other man.

"I'm sure you have a good idea where this money is needed," he said with a benevolent smile, and this time the other accepted the gift with a silent, grateful nod.

Eric said goodbye to the innkeeper and gave his men the order to leave. A short time later they had already cast off and the ship set course for the south.