### Chapter 3: The Journey Home (Part 1)
In early February, a chilly wind suddenly swept across the sea surface, turning the formerly gentle waves into a wild, tumultuous mess. On the shipping routes, the small boats with shallow drafts were hesitant to speed ahead, but the two-masted ship called the “Kalivel” managed to maintain a steady, albeit slow, pace. Nevertheless, the ship still rocked and swayed; among the passengers, some began showing signs of seasickness.
“Bleh—”
On the deck at the stern, a girl clad in a cloak was desperately scrubbing the boards with a damp, grimy rag. Just as she was getting into the groove, she stumbled, dashed to the railing, and leaned over, dry-heaving weakly. Finally, she plopped down on the deck, feeling utterly defeated.
What a bummer…
With the wind whipping around her ears, the girl lifted her head to wipe the sweat from her forehead. The hood that was supposed to protect her was now askew, exposing a pale face.
…How is it possible that I’m still seasick, even in this sorry state?
It doesn’t make any sense…
“Alright, alright! Stop asking so many questions!”
At that moment, a fellow traveler approached the deck to inquire about the situation and promptly ran into the Sailmaster, who seemed to be in a particularly foul mood. After just a few words, he snapped, “Once this wind dies down, the ship will stabilize again! There’s nothing I can do about it, so stop bothering me! If you can’t handle it, just jump overboard and swim with the fish!”
Given the current turbulence, many passengers—both travelers and merchants—were confused by the unpredictable sea conditions and fretting over the ship’s slower, rockier journey. They frequently bombarded the First Mate, the Second Mate, and the Sailmaster with questions, which made them all rather irritable. The girl had seen this drama unfold several times already. Just yesterday, one poor soul had nearly come to blows with the Navigator and had to be tied up by the Sailmaster, who then tossed him into the storage hold at the back of the ship.
Before long, the traveler who had argued with the Sailmaster ended up being escorted away to the cabin, and moments later, the unmistakable sound of vomiting echoed back. The girl pursed her lips, feeling that familiar wave of nausea rise up, but managed to hold it down, readjusting her hood before standing back up.
Just let it out, let it out…
Eventually, you’ll just get used to it.
“Hey! Sharman! What are you doing just standing there? Trying to slack off?!”
A sudden shout interrupted her thoughts, catching the girl off guard. She raised her head slightly, her view obscured by her hood, just in time to see the Sailmaster’s hefty figure approach, his muscular arms and rough demeanor looming large.
“Didn’t I tell you to clean this part of the deck before you took a break?! What’s wrong with you? Are you seasick or just plain dizzy? You frail little thing… Ugh, you can’t do anything right except eat! I should’ve tossed you overboard back when we set sail…”
With a shove, he sent her staggering backward a few steps. “Go on, get out of here! Toss that rag too. If you’re feeling sick, just rest! Hey, you there! You take over this work! None of your blabbering! Just because she’s a girl doesn’t mean you can take it easy!”
The Sailmaster rambled on, not giving the girl a chance to respond or defend herself before he marched away. Another crew member was called in to clean up, leaving the girl swaying slightly before she regained her balance. After a moment’s thought, she tossed the rag aside, shrugged her shoulders, and straightened the sail a bit before heading towards the cabin.
…Of course, she felt no anger brewing inside her.
Because she simply didn’t care.
Plus, being scolded by the Sailmaster wasn’t exactly a new experience for her.
But he’s a good guy.
Sure, he had a fiery temperament and wasn’t exactly a gentle soul, but during their time on the ship, he had looked out for her more than once. His earlier words were merely meant to encourage her to rest. After all, the Noragwai merchant ship didn’t carry passengers who were just loafing around; everyone onboard had their own jobs. It felt like she was the only one doing nothing useful, helplessly watching as others handled the ropes and oars, while she couldn’t contribute in any way…
A few days back, someone already complained because, in her clumsy, oblivious way, she had accidentally knocked over several plates while serving food. The Sailmaster had come over to scold her, even kicking her in public and sending her back to the cabin, telling her to stop getting in the way.
His fierce demeanor had effectively silenced those who were agitated, but she suspected he harbored some resentment towards her; it seemed like such incidents had happened too many times since she boarded, and here she was again, being chased off to rest midway through. If there were to be any kindness left, then as a “powerless little girl” with no connections, she probably wouldn’t be able to survive on this ship.
Well, at least that’s how things looked from the Sailmaster’s perspective.
He’s a good guy, but that doesn’t mean everyone else on this ship is like him.
In reality, many of the sea-faring folks, especially in this day and age, weren’t exactly shining beacons of morality. They were often unruly, had fallen into bad habits, and many had likely taken lives in their pasts.
And here I am… a soft, delicate being who’d fall over with the slightest gust of wind? That’s definitely how they saw me—a little girl who seemed to know nothing, utterly alone. Without the Sailmaster’s protection, I’d be just a lamb waiting for slaughter.
Women were scarce on the sea.
So, even if I did everything perfectly, there were still those unsavory characters looking to hassle me, the pesky guys with too much unspent energy and dirty minds. As long as I remained on this ship, I’d inevitably cross paths with their unwelcome advances.
I often found myself targeted by drunken, leering men who would suddenly jostle me, trying to lift my cloak to see what I really looked like. Most didn’t even bother to pay attention; to them, it was enough that I was female. Some even barged into my cabin late at night, disregarding everything in their thirst to bully me.
Fortunately, while the ship was small, it did have its rules, and the crew surrounding my cabin were mostly seasoned sailors, including the Sailmaster. So those men’s antics were, in the end, typically curtailed.
If it hadn’t been for that…
The number of people still alive on this ship would probably be under half.
…So I guess I saved their butts.
In the past, when similar situations arose, I would have been really, really angry—furious, even. I would have felt sick to my stomach, and when my emotions surged, I’d have been likely to lash out—maybe not to k*ll them, but I’d surely give them a savage beating to teach them a lesson.
But now…
They’re just an annoying gaggle of ants.
They could no longer incite my wrath, so whether I responded or not seemed utterly trivial.
I don’t get mad, I don’t call for help, and I didn’t even feel the urge to fight back. I simply stood silent and let things pass. My seemingly passive attitude might have made some think I was easy prey, but all my travels had prevented any real violence from erupting.
The reason behind that? It was mostly due to my unremarkable own appearance, resembling a street urchin. The Sailmaster, in his protective nature, had never asked me to lift my oversized hood to reveal my true face. So the only attention I drew were from those on the ship with the lowest status, the ones who could be easily subdued by the Sailmaster.
The ones with status, like the First Mate and the Navigator, hadn’t even glanced my way once.
Otherwise, I’d have to devise another plan to reach the Western Continent.
Only the bottom feeders felt I was an easy target to h*rass, and no matter how unruly they were, they always backed off once someone stepped in to put them in their place.
Because aside from the travelers and crew, there was a small squad of lightly armored guards armed with crossbows—about a hundred of them or so. They were supposedly a well-known band of mercenaries from Noragwai’s ports, who frequently collaborated with the “Kalivel” merchant ship and would always be aboard during its voyages.
With them around, the ship’s order was guaranteed to stay intact.
But of course, the mercenaries weren’t there just to maintain order on the ship.
Their real job was to stand guard against the ruthless Ibos Pirates roaming the seas.
