Arthur made his way down the cobbled streets toward the harbor, enjoying the cool breeze that carried the scents of salt, fish, and smoke from countless hearths.
His stomach growled.
The fight and the long conversation with Sam had left him thoroughly hungry.
Along the roadside, merchants were already closing their stalls, selling everything from freshly caught fish to cheap charms supposedly blessed with luck at sea.
Arthur briefly wondered whether he ought to buy one.
Perhaps it would bring him a little fortune.
In the end, thoughts of saving his coins, eating a hot meal, and spending time with the crew proved stronger.
At last he reached the Blue Plum tavern, where his companions were meant to be.
He had been worried the ship might have sailed, or that someone might have been looking for him.
But the Black Betha still rested in the harbor.
And the moment Arthur crossed the threshold, he was greeted by an explosion of noise, laughter, and the smells of food and wine.
“Ooooooh!” came a drawn-out shout.
“The Scourge of the Krakens has arrived!
Arkt!”
Arthur recognized Tom’s voice at once.
The burly red-bearded sailor was already thoroughly drunk.
The man was famous for knowing hundreds of songs, and inventing new ones on the spot.
Nicknames as well.
“Arkt!
Arkt!
Arkt!” the crew immediately took up the chant, pounding tankards against tables and boots against the floor.
Arthur froze in the doorway, blushing furiously.
“Come over here, cabin boy!
We’re drinking!” Paul announced with a broad grin, setting a goblet brimming with amber liquid before him.
“But I…”
“Arkt!
Arkt!
Arkt!”
The sailors left him no choice.
Embarrassed, Arthur accepted the cup and took a cautious sip.
The taste was unexpectedly pleasant.
Like a peach, only sharper, touched by a spicy, intoxicating note.
“Drink it all!”
Before he knew it, the goblet was empty, accompanied by the crew’s jubilant roar.
And then…
“Up, cabin boy!”
Something icy crashed over Arthur’s head, and he cried out, jerking awake in his hammock.
“Ahhh!
We’re under attack?!” he gasped, tumbling onto the wooden floor and instinctively reaching for the sword that should have hung at his belt.
Ray stood over him, grinning broadly and holding an empty bucket.
“Nope,” he drawled, handing Arthur first the bucket and then a mop.
“It’s nearly midday, sleepyhead.
Plenty of work to do.
You weren’t the only one who had too much Arbor gold last night.”
Arthur groaned and rubbed his head.
It throbbed as though someone had locked him inside a bell and spent the night hammering on it.
Seven hells…
never drinking again.
“Aye, that’s what they all say,” the sailor laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Get used to being a man, lad.
Drinking’s a skill too.”
“Where’s…”
“Your sword’s over there in the corner.
Along with the armor.
I picked it up for you,” the boatswain said, correctly guessing the question.
“We’re already underway.
Left at first light.”
“So early?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
The boatswain shrugged.
Davos had returned from the castle in a foul mood and had not spoken a word to anyone since.
“Come on now, cabin boy.
Enough sitting around.
The deck won’t scrub itself…”
“I know, I know!”
Salt water dripped from Arthur’s hair as he worked the mop across the deck, grinding soap into the dark planks.
At first he had cursed Ray for such a rude awakening.
Soon afterward, however, he had decided to dump another bucket over himself voluntarily.
The cold water had been wonderfully refreshing, washing away the heaviness lingering from the previous night’s celebration.
The deck was warm beneath the sun, pleasantly scorching his bare feet.
The work was dull, but familiar, and certainly preferable to cleaning the hold, which reeked of sweat, salt, and fish.
The deck itself was filthier than usual.
The aftermath of a lively night, combined with the unloading and loading of provisions, had not vanished on its own.
When the work was finally done, Arthur gladly answered the ship’s bell announcing the midday meal.
Taking his bowl, he climbed up and leaned against the rail.
The sea was calm today.
Sunlight glittered across its surface like scattered golden dragons.
Arthur had never seen so much gold in his life, but he imagined it looked exactly like this.
The lords probably possessed heaps of it.
His thoughts drifted to his chance acquaintance.
He wondered how Sam was doing.
“Arkt!”
The familiar voice made him turn.
Matthos stood outside the cabin, leaning on a cane.
His sun-darkened face was still pale, though nowhere near as gaunt as it had been on the day he was wounded.
“You can walk already!” Arthur exclaimed.
He had checked on his friend several times, but Matthos had mostly been asleep, exhausted from the fever.
“The maester says I was lucky we reached port so quickly,” Matthos replied with a sigh.
“He cleaned out the infection and gave me milk of the poppy.
Slept like the dead.
I’m better now.”
Arthur smiled in relief.
“I was afraid you’d be heading straight to the Drowned God and leaving me without training.”
The joke came out awkwardly, but he was genuinely glad to see Matthos recovering.
“I nearly did,” Matthos admitted with a grin. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
“Though lying in that cabin wasn’t much better.
Day after day in bed…
I could barely even read.
When you can’t go anywhere, it becomes torture.”
“Read?” Arthur asked with interest.
He remembered Matthos mentioning that he had been taught to read, but he had not known the young man carried books aboard.
“Read what?”
“Different things.
Sea routes.
The Song of the Sea, mostly.” Matthos shrugged.
“Books aren’t cheap.
Father bought a few, but most stayed back at the castle.
Why?
Want something to read?”
He smiled good-naturedly, teasing Arthur.
Though Arthur’s origins remained a mystery to him, he hardly looked like someone who enjoyed reading.
Truth be told, Matthos himself was no great lover of books either.
Still, the tutors hired for him had hammered into his skull the importance of literacy.
Even his father had tried to learn to read, though with limited success.
“The time for it has passed,” the castle maester had once said of the lord Stannis granted him lands at Cape Wrath.
Arthur thought for a moment.
After meeting Sam, his interest in books had only grown stronger.
“Yes, if that’s allowed,” he replied.
Matthos raised an eyebrow.
“You can read?”
“I can,” Arthur answered, sounding slightly offended.
“What, do I look like a wildling?”
“To be honest…
yes,” Matthos snorted.
“Every time I remember you charging that man…”
Arthur rolled his eyes.
“So, can I or not?”
“You can, but only while I’m there,” Matthos said with a sigh.
“The last thing I need is you smearing fish guts all over the pages.”
“Hey, I’m careful!”
“We’ll see.”
He waved dismissively.
“Come by once you’re finished.
I’ve got nothing else to do anyway.”
Leaning on his cane, Matthos headed back toward the cabin.
Arthur grinned.
It seemed the day was only getting better.
A/N:
While everyone else is waiting for updates, com / Captain_Lag (remove the spaces)