Chapter 5: Arrival at Port
Once the wind settled down, the ship sliced through the waves smoothly without much rocking.
I often found myself standing at the rail, gazing out at the sea, listening to the chirps of seagulls zooming past the mast. Spring evenings had that perfect charm: the sunset painted the distant horizon in fiery hues, and fluffy clouds soaked in that light made the world feel like a dreamy veil—a blissful state of mind.
Since that drunken ramble, whenever the Sailmaster had a moment of free time, he’d trot over to chat with me, asking how I was doing in recent days, if I’d gotten used to life aboard or if anyone had been bothering me—oh, the repetitive banter! He’d sometimes delve into my background, prying for family gossip from West Continent, but usually, he picked up on my disinterest and wise enough just to let it be.
Then there was that one time he had a bit too much to drink and spilled his own life story, which ended up being quite the saga.
“…My ancestors were once reputable dye merchants in Norgaw, stacking quite the fortune. But by my generation, we’re as good as down the drain—just my luck, huh? Never had a smidgen of their luck and now I’m stuck with my deceased father’s debts. Who wants to spend their days roaming the seas with no promise of tomorrow…”
“I was married, but spent most of my life at sea, and guess what? My wife ran off with some bootlegger after three years… Hah! Young and hot-headed back then, I nearly turned that little man into fish food… But I’ve calmed down a lot since then…”
“I have a daughter. After my wife left, I left her in the care of some elderly folks at home. Then one day when I returned, they were all gone—old folks kicked the bucket, and my daughter? Lost, probably starving and set off to hunt for food… That was ages ago, and I still haven’t found her. She was just a wee thing back then… Such a tragic tale, isn’t it?”
The Sailmaster, when tipsy, didn’t hold back on spilling his guts, oblivious if anyone wanted to hear or not. It was like someone shook a box of secrets, and out they all tumbled. The next day, he’d be back, sheepishly saying, “Oops, I might’ve said too much last night. Don’t take it to heart, alright? Let’s focus on work today…”
Later, I got friendly with a sailor who spilled the beans about the Sailmaster: “You’re not the first damsel in distress he saved… He looks rough around the edges, but trust me, he’s got a heart of gold. I suspect his motivations stem from that guilt for his daughter… That’s how it’s been for years… You’ve hit the jackpot, meeting him…”
…………
Time on the ship flew by like a seagull on a sugar rush.
As spring broke, the Kalivel embarked on its maiden long-distance voyage, and it was smooth sailing all the way.
I never encountered those pirates, thank goodness.
Onboard, there were still a few rascals who tried to make my life difficult, but thanks to the watchful eyes of the guards and the Sailmaster barking orders, each time their antics were swiftly knocked on the head. In the end, it all fizzled out peacefully.
By the end of March, we finally reached port.
As night fell, the wind whispered across the surface of the sea, and torches lit up along the coastal docks. In the distance, the city walls glimmered with lights, while ships drifted into the harbor, surrendering to the fray of commotion at the port where many disembarked and chatted with the knights stationed on the coast.
We were on the sea of Silgaya, in a city called Onstan—one of the key ports for trade with the Eastern Continent. This port was where roughly thirty percent of the spices from the Western Continent set sail for the East, along with an array of essential goods like weapons, timber, fruits, rice, wine, cotton, and silk.
Rumor had it that Onstan was the closest port city to the Mosri Coast.
As the Kalivel glided into the port, ready to unload, the crew was all prepped. The Sailmaster, whom I’d only seen once, was among those who disembarked first, while the other travelers readied their bundles. The young woman, wrapped in her cloak, sorted her belongings and made her way to the deck, preparing to hop off with everyone else.
But before that, she wanted to find the Sailmaster to express her thanks and bid him farewell.
However, after peering over the rail for a moment, she heard a ruckus and, lo and behold, no sign of that burly Sailmaster. The noise grew louder as she rushed over, barely off the ship, clutching the rail to peer down at the dock, only to spot the captain in a heated spat with the knights.
…What’s going on?
The surrounding noise was too much for me to catch their shouts, but I could see the captain, flanked by the Sailmaster, looking fired up with a red face, arguing with the knights who seemed completely uninterested in his passionate tirade, shaking their heads in disapproval.
As the commotion swelled, more folks flocked over—crew members, travelers… There were only a handful of ships at dock, and right now, the Kalivel was the only one unloading. Catching wind of the chaos, knights on patrol started striding toward the brawl.
In the crowd, the knights blocked the captain and his crew, refusing to let them pass. Consequently, everyone left behind on the dock felt like they were part of some weird traffic jam. The captain, waving a wooden placard like it was a victory flag, was vocally challenging the knights while the Sailmaster joined in, visibly fuming.
The heated debate was happening far enough from the ship that I couldn’t make out the gist of it, just snippets like “port tax,” “pirates,” “Alectine City construction,” and “Holy Council” that left me scratching my head. I stood there for a moment, mesmerized until someone squeezed back onto the deck due to the crush of the crowd. I called out, “What’s the deal?”
“Ugh…”
It was a tall, skinny traveler, already packing his bag to jump ship but now stuck in the mob. He seemed to reconsider, turning back to me with an exasperated look. “Oh, it’s you! Ugh… are you itching to disembark too? But it seems like we’re stuck here for a bit…”
He sighed and returned with me to the rail, straining to look down: “Apparently, Onstan Harbor has decided to increase the port taxes this year on top of last year’s rates, thanks to some decree from the Holy Council at the end of last year to aid the folks in the southern Silgaya Kingdom. They want to restore farming in cities, including Alectine, that were wrecked by the heretics and all sorts of other complicated nonsense—at least that’s what I gathered…”
“They’re saying every ship must pay this new tax before coming ashore or else face a dock deprived of lifeboats… It sounds like a hefty chunk of change, and the captain, not keen on opening his wallet, has gotten into it with the knights… But why the heck does this concern us? Why can’t we just leave already?!”
