The battle erupted without warning.
Arthur had barely set a heavy box of arrows down on the deck when a low Ironborn longship suddenly emerged from behind the curtain of smoke rising from the burning vessel.
It slammed into the Black Betha’s port side, snapping oars with a loud crack and showering the deck with salty foam.
The galley shook violently.
Someone fell, while arrows and dropped weapons rolled across the deck.
“Don’t let them get aboard!” Ray roared, rushing to the railing and cutting down the first grappling hook that had lodged itself in the wood with his sword.
But more hooks came flying immediately afterward, firmly tying the dying ship to the Black Betha with ropes.
The first Ironborn were already desperately climbing across them, fighting for their lives.
The sailors grabbed whatever weapons they could find and rushed toward the railing, trying to get themselves into a better position.
A few arrows flew over their heads, striking men and knocking them into the water, or lodging themselves in armor.
Arthur picked up his shield and rushed toward the railing, where one of the attackers was already throwing a leg over the side, trying to climb aboard.
The cabin boy raised his sword, trying to strike before the man could get onto the deck.
But the Ironborn suddenly bared his teeth, lunged forward, grabbed a small axe, and jumped straight at him.
The impact knocked the air from Arthur’s lungs.
His feet slipped on the wet deck, and he fell backward, striking the back of his head against the hard wood.
For a moment, everything went black.
Arthur’s shield took the blow, but the man’s weight was too much.
They were both thrown backward.
Arthur crashed onto his back, his sword flying away with a dull clang.
The Ironborn landed beside him and immediately lunged forward, throwing his full weight onto the cabin boy and pinning him against the deck.
He quickly pulled a knife to replace the axe that had become stuck in Arthur’s shield.
Arthur’s hands were trapped between his body and the heavy shield.
Steel flashed before his eyes.
Arthur twisted with all his strength, knocking the attack aside with his freed hand.
The sharp blade plunged into the boiled leather near his shoulder, piercing it before getting stuck halfway through.
Arthur cried out in pain.
For a moment, the two struggled, both gripping the knife’s handle with both hands.
Their faces were so close that Arthur could smell the rot, blood, and cheap liquor coming from his enemy.
The battle raged around them.
Men screamed as they killed and were killed.
Somewhere in the background, Davos was shouting as he gathered a group of men around himself.
But for Arthur, the entire battle had narrowed down to one hated face, with a crooked grin and a nose that had clearly been broken more than once.
The Ironborn pushed down with all his strength, forcing Arthur toward the deck.
But the cabin boy refused to give in, stopping the knife from going any deeper.
He didn’t even know where he’d found the strength to hold back a grown man who was pressing his entire weight onto him.
His armor helped too.
Then the attacker jerked the handle, trying to pull the weapon free.
Arthur didn’t give him the chance.
In a desperate burst of effort, he lunged forward and smashed his forehead into the man’s face.
Crack.
Blood poured from the Ironborn’s broken nose.
The man roared and staggered backward, releasing the knife.
With one powerful jerk, he pulled the axe free from the shattered shield, sending splinters flying.
A victorious fury flashed in his eyes.
But Arthur didn’t let him take advantage of the opening.
Finally freeing his arm, the cabin boy hurled the now-useless shield at the man, then slid across the wet deck toward his fallen sword.
His fingers found the hilt.
The Ironborn threw the shield aside and charged again.
The axe flashed in his hand.
Arthur didn’t hesitate.
He rolled onto his side and swung his sword.
With a wet, sickening sound, the blade severed the man’s hand at the wrist.
The length of Arthur’s sword gave him enough reach to strike before the shorter axe could reach him.
“Aaaaaah!”
The attacker’s weapon, along with his hand, crashed heavily onto the deck.
The Ironborn stared in disbelief at the bloody stump.
But before another second could pass, his scream caught in his throat.
Arthur didn’t give him time to recover.
He stepped forward and drove his sword into the man’s chest, just beneath the ribs, exactly as the second boatswain had taught him.
The blade slipped in smoothly, almost like cutting through seawater.
The Ironborn shuddered and hissed.
Foaming blood spilled across his lips.
He took one step backward.
Then another.
And finally collapsed onto the deck, twitching in his final convulsions.
Arthur remained standing, breathing heavily, gripping the sword so tightly that his knuckles had gone white.
Hot blood ran down his arms.
His blood or the enemy’s, he couldn’t tell anymore.
A crimson haze began creeping across his vision…
Arthur woke to a distant voice that seemed to be drifting toward him through deep water.
“Arkt…
Arkt!”
He tried to open his stuck-together eyelids, but every movement sent a dull ache through his head.
The voice continued calling his name, growing more insistent as it slowly broke through the thick fog of unconsciousness.
“Yeah…
I’m awake…” he muttered, struggling to come around.
Something cold touched his face, helping him finally open his eyes.
Everything was blurry.
The light hurt.
But he recognized the silhouette of his friend.
“Thank the gods…
You’re finally awake!” Mattos breathed in relief, removing the wet cloth from Arthur’s forehead.
“I thought I wouldn’t make it in time…”
Arthur blinked, still struggling to understand what was happening.
His head was pounding, and his whole body hurt as though he’d been beaten with hammers.
He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in the back of his head made him groan.
“I…
Yeah…
What happened?” he asked with difficulty.
The last thing he remembered was the Ironborn collapsing into a pool of blood.
The noise of battle.
The screams.
The ringing of steel.
And then…
Nothing.
“What happened?” Mattos repeated, then laughed.
“We smashed those filthy krakens, that’s what!
More than two hundred ships, can you believe it?
Two hundred!
Either sunk, burned, or captured…
And it’s all thanks to the genius of Lord Stannis!
And us!”
Arthur nodded weakly, grimacing.
Probably not a good idea to make his head work any harder.
“I meant…
how did I end up here?”
He forced himself to look around.
The ship’s infirmary.
The smell of herbs, blood, and sea air.
There weren’t many wounded men around, only a few sailors sleeping heavily in hammocks, their bodies wrapped in bloodstained bandages.
One of them was missing an arm.
“You don’t remember?” Mattos asked in surprise.
“I wouldn’t be asking if I did,” Arthur grumbled as another wave of pain flashed through his temples.
“Was I wounded?”
He carefully looked himself over. New chapters come out on g.com first.
Aside from his bandaged shoulder, there didn’t seem to be any serious injuries.
“Well…
you could say that,” Mattos said with a grin.
“I didn’t see it myself because I was busy, but according to Ray, you took down a couple of Ironborn and then…” He snorted.
“You almost started attacking your own men.”
“What?”
“Yeah,” his friend confirmed, beginning to list everything.
“Crazy eyes, foam at the mouth…
You were screaming your head off and throwing yourself into the fight.
Ray had to knock you out with the blunt end of his axe.
Looks like he hit you a little harder than necessary.”
Arthur blinked in disbelief.
“Ray did that to me?”
“Yep,” Mattos confirmed, barely suppressing a laugh.
“You should actually thank him.
You’d completely lost your mind in the battle.
Don’t you remember anything?”
Arthur frowned, trying to pull something from his memory.
But all his mind gave him were fragments.
Blood on his hands.
A metallic taste on his lips.
A crimson sky…
“Nothing,” he whispered, leaning back.
“Well, that’s not surprising,” Mattos said with a shrug, rubbing the back of his head.
“Ray’s got a heavy hand.
Good thing you woke up at all.”
Arthur closed his eyes, feeling the weakness wash over him again.
His entire body felt like it wasn’t even his anymore.
Heavy.
Humming.
Exhausted.
“All right,” Mattos suddenly said, sitting up.
“That’s why I woke you.
We’re going ashore.
Want me to bring you anything?
Who knows when we’ll get another chance…”
Arthur thought about it.
He didn’t have much money.
And right now, there was only one thing he really wanted.
Rest.
“You’re sitting on silver now,” his friend said with a grin, realizing what he was thinking.
“You’re entitled to the trophies from all four of them.
Ray made sure of it.”
There was a little envy in his voice, although he was also clearly proud of Arthur.
Mattos actually thought Arthur had gotten incredibly lucky.
He himself had only killed two, and he was a little irritated that his “student” had killed more than he had.
In his mind, of course, the reason was his own injury.
Four…
Arthur clenched his fingers, remembering how he’d fought.
How he’d fought for his life.
“No…” he muttered.
Then, with the faintest smile, he added:
“Maybe…
peaches, if you can find any.”
Mattos burst out laughing.
“Peaches?
You’re unbelievable!”
“Well…
if you find some,” Arthur sighed tiredly.
“I’ll find them, I’ll find them!” Mattos laughed as he got up.
“Lie down and rest, sailor.”
“I think I got hit on the head…
I’m a cabin boy, remember?”
“Of course I remember, my copper-headed friend,” the young man said with a grin, waving as he walked out.
“Father decided you’ve sent too many Ironborn to their Drowned God for an ordinary cabin boy.”
“I see…” Arthur said after Mattos had left.
The news should have made him happy.
But instead, he felt strangely empty inside.
As though all his emotions had simply burned themselves out at once.
He wanted to sleep.
But when he closed his eyes, golden symbols appeared before him again.
Name: Arthur Snow
Level: 4
Physical Strength: 3
Agility: 3
Health: 69/100
Intelligence: 3
Endurance: 4
Magic: 1/100
Magical Power: 1
Luck: 2
“Racial Ability Improved: Rage.
Level 2.
Increases physical attributes by 150%.
Consumes magic.
Cooldown…
(12 hours.)”
“You have gained a level.
Your level is now 4.
Free attribute points: (1).
Distribute…”
Arthur habitually directed the glowing energy into Strength.
A shiver ran through his entire body, spreading a pleasant warmth into every limb.
The boy didn’t even notice himself falling asleep.
Chomp.
The juicy flesh of the peach, hidden beneath its thin skin, burst beneath the pressure of Arthur’s young, strong teeth.
Arthur happily narrowed his eyes as he ate the sweet fruit Mattos had brought him.
It wasn’t quite like the peaches he’d eaten on the island, but it was still incredibly tasty.
His friend had left before Arthur woke up, so Arthur simply ate the remaining peaches while studying the numbers in the glowing lines.
Name: Arthur Snow
Level: 4
Physical Strength: 4
Agility: 3
Health: 85/100
Intelligence: 3
Endurance: 4
Magic: 2/100
Magical Power: 1
Luck: 2
Strange…
Arthur was pretty sure his Endurance had been three before.
He thought about it, trying to remember.
There had been something about Endurance in the lines that flashed before his eyes during the final minutes of rowing.
He’d already wondered about it before, but now he had confirmation.
His stats could increase naturally too, without him having to kill anyone.
Before this, only his Intelligence had increased.
Although he still hadn’t noticed any major changes whenever they increased naturally.
But now, after his level and Strength had increased, he could literally feel that he’d become stronger.
And immediately after Strength increased, his Health had gone up as well, reflecting his recovery.
The headache that had plagued Arthur disappeared in just one day.
The wound on his shoulder barely hurt anymore.
Instead, it itched.
When the boy carefully looked beneath the bandage, he was surprised to find pink skin where the roughly stitched wound had been.
He quickly covered it again.
Something told him that it would be better not to show this to the ship’s “doctor.”
The ship’s cook, Will, also served as their healer.
Fortunately, the good-natured older man was satisfied simply hearing that the boy was feeling better.
Will Hook, nicknamed that because of the long scar left by a fishing hook across his face, wasn’t a professional healer.
But after years of traveling with Davos, he’d become equally skilled at cutting up fish with a large cleaver, amputating limbs, and stitching wounds.
The only advice he gave Arthur, while adding another helping of stew to his bowl, was to change the bandage more often, washing it or soaking it in wine or vinegar.
And, of course, to take it easy on his head for a while.
When Arthur climbed onto the upper deck, he was surprised to find himself surrounded by unfamiliar people moving back and forth.
They paid little attention to him, carrying crates, sacks, and other supplies into the hold and mostly talking among themselves.
“Already awake?”
Ray greeted him with a smile.
He was explaining something to a young blond-haired man who looked strangely familiar to Arthur.
The young man was holding a mop and bucket.
He was a few years older than Arthur, roughly Mattos’s age.
“Does your head still hurt?” Ray asked.
“Yeah…” Arthur answered slowly.
“No…
it’s better now.”
“Good,” the boatswain sighed in relief.
“You’ve got a tough head, that’s for sure.”
“Hi!”
The young man smiled and held out his hand.
“I’m Soren.
You’re a cabin boy too?”
“Arkt,” the boy replied, shaking his hand.
“I’m…
actually…”
“Already a sailor,” Ray said with a grin, finishing the sentence for him.
“He’ll show you what to do.”
“What?”
The young man’s expression changed instantly.
Confusion flashed across his face as he looked Arthur up and down.
He clearly couldn’t understand how someone several years younger than him had already become a sailor.
“He earned it,” Ray answered for Arthur.
“You kill a couple of krakens yourself and maybe you’ll earn it too.
Now get moving, cabin boy.
The deck isn’t going to scrub itself!”
“Yeah, I’m going!” Soren said, suddenly remembering what he was supposed to be doing, and hurried toward the stern.
“Go easy on him,” Ray told Arthur.
“Keep an eye on him for a while.
You can become friends later.
You need to know how to earn someone’s respect first.
It’ll come in handy.”
He gave Arthur a strange look.
But Arthur was too distracted by the dozens of unfamiliar people moving around the deck.
“Who are all these people, Ray?” Arthur asked, turning back toward the boatswain.
“And I haven’t seen Paul…
Is he still ashore?”
The ship was still docked near a small town.
A wide gangplank had been thrown across the side.
Dozens of other ships were also busy loading supplies.
“People?
You’ll meet them later.
New sailors.
Davos recruited them from the ships we sank.”
Ray paused.
“And Paul…”
He hesitated.
“How do I put this…”
“There is no more Paul, lad.”
“What do you mean?”
Arthur’s voice went hoarse.
Until now, death had mostly passed him by.
Most of the men killed during the battle, apart from Omerik, who had given Arthur his sword, had been strangers to him.
But Paul…
“He’s gone, Arkt,” Ray said, patting him on the shoulder.
“Cormick said he saw him fall overboard.”
“Maybe he survived?” Arthur asked hopefully.
“He was a good swimmer!”
“Not much chance of swimming in chainmail,” Ray said sympathetically.
He wanted his old friend to be alive too, but reality was reality.
War was war.
People died.
And the aging sellsword understood that better than most.
“So don’t let yourself get thrown overboard in that new outfit…”
“What are you talking about?” Arthur asked.
“I’ll give it to you tonight.
Found you a hauberk that’s almost your size…
and it isn’t even full of holes,” Ray said with a grin.
“Looks like you’ve grown a little more too, so it’ll fit you perfectly.
And a helmet.
Though with that copper head of yours, maybe you don’t really need one…”
“Yeah…
thanks.”
Arthur was grateful.
But right now, the new equipment wasn’t enough to make him happy.
All he could think about was the fact that he’d never see the cheerful sailor again.
He’d never hear his incredible stories or jokes again.
And…
“I’m not seeing much gratitude here!” Ray grumbled.
When Arthur didn’t react, the boatswain suddenly roared:
“SAILOR ARKT!”
“Yeah, sir!”
Arthur flinched in surprise and instinctively straightened up.
“I see you’re already recovered and have nothing to do.
Go get the training blades!”
“What?” Arthur asked automatically.
“But my arm is still…”
“Then you’ll fight with your left,” Ray said deliberately harshly.
“I don’t care.
That’s how war is.
You never know when it’ll come in handy…
or keep you from getting more holes in you.
Now move!”
“Run!”