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Salt and Blood - Chapter 32
🕑 Added 2024-10-05 12:25:47 +0000 UTC<< Chapter 31 | Table of Contents | Chapter 33 >>
1.32 - The Aetherstone Strait
Are you able bodied and willing to defend your fellow citizens, all while learning how to sail a ship and make fantastic new friends? We need you! (Malicious rumours of new recruits being mistreated are slander and punishable by court martial) Sign up for the Royal Navy at your nearest port or harbour—we pay better than fishing!
-Excerpt from a Minenblum Royal Navy Recruitment Poster
Trent let the silence hang for far longer than he needed to. Rose’s eyes narrowed when she saw his trademark smirk curl upwards even further than usual.
“When a skill reaches level one hundred, you get the option to reset it back to level one and start from scratch,” said Trent.
“What’s the point in that? you’d lose all your traits on top of a lifetime’s worth of skill.” Rose was confused what all of this had to do with the pirate’s new arm and treasures with stars in their name.
“That’s the beautiful thing, Rose. You keep all of your traits and the effects of the first hundred levels. And that’s not all—you get to earn even more traits. If you’re a rare genius and you hit level two hundred… You get to do it all over again. I’ve heard legends of mighty seafarers going even further beyond that, but I can’t imagine how mighty a person would have to be to achieve such a thing.”
Rose hadn’t seen the man speak in true admiration until now. Her mind went to Castell Saltbeard immediately—if anyone had achieved that, it would be him.
“That’s really useful to know. Maybe in ten years when I reach level one hundred in fishing I’ll thank you for informing me ahead of time. Can you explain the star thing now?”
“So impatient. Children these days…” muttered Trent. Rose shot him a fearsome glare. “All roses have thorns indeed. Treasures work in much the same manner, except there isn’t a reset to deal with. When a treasure is sufficiently powerful that it exceeds level one hundred, it gets a star and starts counting from one again. Treasures with a single star before their level are known as Epipelagic, as rifle boy so kindly pointed out. Two star treasures are called Mesopelagic.”
A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead as she took another look at Trent’s prosthetic arm. She wasn’t going to fault him for the big explosion—that was a level one hundred and fifty-four treasure. The crystal antlers seemed like trash now.
“Don’t whip your sad puppy eyes out. This kind of thing is almost unheard of in the Bluestone Sea. Only nobles can afford them. Even then they’re usually family heirlooms. And I’m far more experienced than a whelp like you. Now, show me your haul.”
Trent had finished experimenting with the ARM, luckily for Felix. He settled on a hand formed of blue light.
“You’ve got six fingers,” said Felix.
“Indeed I do. The description was right. I aimed for five, but I’ll settle for six.”
“You aimed for five? That’s one too many,” giggled Rose.
“Depends what you need them for,” quipped Trent. “Loot. Now. You aren’t getting away that easily.”
She sighed and willed her inventory open, but soon smiled when she saw the three treasures that lay within.
Inventory [3/7]
Crystal Antlers 33
Direwolf Fangs 19
Direwolf Pelt 22
First, she took out the antlers. It was only right—Trent had also contributed massively to the battle against the stag.
“I think you should keep them. You did a lot more during that fight,” said Rose, pushing them across the table towards him.
“They’re beautiful,” exclaimed Felix, eyes glittering as the refracted light danced across his face.
“Don’t be daft. I don’t need a piddly treasure like that. Keep them. I’m sure there’ll be an artificer in Minenblum who can turn them into something useful for you. What else did you get?”
“Not much. If you think the antlers are piddly, I’m nervous to hear your judgement on these.”
Rose let the pelt and fangs fall onto the table. Trent clapped his hands together and smirked. She knew what was coming next—why did he always have to be such a smug bastard?
“Wrong, my dear Rose. These are far more useful for a girl of your calibre. The antlers will require someone with skill in order to receive a treasure worthy of their level and aspect, but these are simple. Any old blacksmith or tailor should be able to whip something together. You’ll be geared to the fangs,” he said, laughing at his own joke.
“How many monsters did you fight? There’s no way you killed them by yourself. You could barely hold a cutlass the last time I saw you.”
“Well, Trent did most of the work against the stag. That was one fearsome beast. I took down the nasty wolf by myself though—tough opponent,” said Rose, reminiscing on her clash with the alpha wolf. “I told you, piracy isn’t just ‘being a criminal’. You get to have cracking adventures. And that was only the first one.”
“Indeed. There’s plenty more where that came from. You do seem more suited to a cosy life of merchantry though, rifle boy. Plenty of fat on those cheeks,” Trent teased, pinching Felix’s cheek as he did.
Felix pulled away with a stony glare, then ran from the cabin. He shot Rose one last look before slamming the door behind him.
She stood up to follow, but Trent grabbed her arm and pulled her back to the bench.
“Leave him be, he’s just working through his own frustrations. He’ll be fine by tomorrow, I’m sure. A fine friend you’ve got there, if a little fierce. Now, put the treasures back in your inventory. We can make something of them in Eastfel Bay,” he said, pulling a brown bottle from his jacket and taking a swig.
“Get some rest, we’ve got some nasty sailing ahead of us. The Aetherstone Strait is a gamble—we’ll either have still waters or a surging swell. Either way’s a struggle.”
***
Saltwater sprayed across her face as a cannonball splashed harmlessly into the ocean, missing their ship by a hair’s width. Her eyes stung, but she’d been ignoring the pain for a while now. Her mouth was so salty she could eat dinner without seasoning it for a week straight.
The navy vessel had come from the fog, ambushing them without warning in the middle of the night. It had been a constant chase since then, but The Crown of Salt was too fast and they’d stayed out of the range of their pursuer’s cannons. Until now, that is.
All her muscles ached, most of all her biceps and forearms. She’d been tugging on ropes for hours while Trent battled with the wheel.
Even Felix had rushed to help when the booming of the cannons woke him from his sleep, which was surprising given his whole anti-pirate policy.
Skill up!
Sailing 13 > 14
Skill up!
Endurance 3 > 4
On the plus side, her skills were getting a fantastic boost from the constant exertion and threat to her life. A razor thin silver lining.
She glanced across the deck to Felix, who was bent over almost ninety degrees while clinging to a rope for dear life, in a mirror to Rose who was doing the exact same as they both fought to keep the mainsail steady.
Trent’s gamble had turned out for the worse and a frightful storm had taken them by surprise shortly after dawn. It was in the fog and rain that the navy had attacked—it seemed as though their well of luck had run dry.
“By order of His Royal Highness, King Malthax, I demand you hand over control of your stolen vessel and relinquish the pirate ‘Trent Blackheart’ to my custody.”
The commander of the naval ship had been repeating that over and over until Rose had grown tired of hearing his imperious, arrogant voice. Trent said it was arcane technology that let him shout so loud, powered by tidestones.
Rose wished they had one of their own, just so she could roar at the bastard and tell him to shut up. If she wasn’t so outmatched, she would’ve swam over and punched Commodore Saff in his smug face.
Not that she’d ever seen the man before, it was too foggy for that and she was too focused on keeping the ship sailing straight. She could just imagine him from the sound of his voice.
Tall, but not quite tall enough to be handsome. He was insecure about that, no doubt. Glossy, perfect hair—except he was balding early. Another sore spot.
All conjecture, of course. Regardless, she pushed through the pain in her arms by imagining punching him. Repeatedly.
“Rose, I need you to take the wheel,” yelled Trent. “I’m about to do something extraordinarily dangerous and stupid.”
She looked towards Felix. He’d be fine without her—she had the perfect trait for this. It took far more effort than she had in her to pull the rope to the railings of the ship, but once she finished tying it off, it wouldn’t come loose no matter how furiously the wind blew. Heh, it’s knot my problem anymore.
As she raced up the stairs to the poop deck, Trent let go of the wheel and it started to spin to starboard. He leapt onto the back of the ship as she jumped forward to steady the wheel.
“Don’t die, Trent.”
“Oh, I don’t plan on it. Not now, not ever,” he said with a wink.
And then he stepped off the ship and plummeted to the turbulent ocean.
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