"The Genoese suck their grandmothers' breasts! The Pisan animals roll around with their own mothers—!"
Sailors' shanties rose and fell with the sound of waves.
Typical Venice, really.
Even their sea songs were just insults aimed at rival cities.
I stared ahead.
One day after leaving Tripoli.
A few more days and we'd reach Constantinople.
If we'd gone by land, it would've taken far longer.
The maritime city-states didn't play a major role in the Crusades for nothing.
Here, without ships—without a navy—you could do nothing.
"Thanks to you, Your Highness, we managed to sail on schedule," Marco said in his usual exaggerated tone.
He waved his hands for emphasis.
"To think Count Raymond—who wouldn't even pretend to hear our requests—changed his mind so suddenly. I don't know how you persuaded him, but… as expected of you."
"I only asked the Count," I replied with a smile.
Helping me carries more benefit than refusing me carries profit.
That was essentially all I'd said.
And there was also my trait—
[Innate Charisma].
It probably mattered more than I wanted to admit.
If I'd had something like this back in real life, how much easier would everything have been?
As I scanned the horizon, something felt off.
The escort ships that had been sailing with us were gone.
"By the way… I don't see the other ships."
"The swell was too rough last night, and we drifted apart," Marco explained. "We're meant to resupply at Alanya. We'll regroup there."
"So until then, it's just us."
I muttered to myself.
In the Mediterranean of this era, sailing alone was not exactly wise.
Egypt and North Africa were Islamic lands.
And their pirates prowled these waters constantly.
Even in the game, if you sent a merchant ship without an escort, it got raided with embarrassing ease.
"This area is regularly patrolled by the Eastern Roman navy, so there's no need to worry," Marco said with a shrug.
Just then, Hugh and Aig came up onto the deck.
"I told you, Egg—when you deal with something that savage, you never turn your back."
"We see each other every day. I thought we were friends now. And my name is not Egg, it's Aig…"
"Did Bolt give you trouble again, 'Egg'?"
I laughed as I walked over.
Aig sighed.
"I didn't soak the hay. I fed it dry, and I think he's offended. The captain told us to conserve water, so I didn't have a choice…"
He added with a grim look.
"Bolt's appetite got worse after boarding. He eats like a beast. Even cleaning up after him is work."
"He was always like that," I said, smiling.
Bolt was an excellent horse.
But his personality—no matter how kindly you put it—was eccentric to the point of madness.
"I suppose I just have to endure," Aig said, resigned.
Then Hugh pointed toward the distant land.
"I didn't expect to see beacon fires from this far out…"
"Beacons?"
I turned.
Thin smoke rose from a mountain range on the shore.
In modern terms, somewhere along southern Turkey's coastal cities.
"More precisely, it's a beacon network," Hugh said, armor clinking.
"The Greeks placed dozens of those along the borders. If an enemy appears, Constantinople hears of it within hours."
"Beacons… makes sense. Faster than sending messengers."
Beacons had existed in ancient Greece, and in East Asia too—China, Joseon.
Napoleon had used semaphore towers.
Then electricity brought telegraph lines.
"If only we had a telescope," I muttered.
"A telescope?"
Aig tilted his head.
"It's nothing. Just talking to myself."
There were no telescopes yet.
How did the principle work again…?
Convex lens and convex lens—something like that.
I shook my head.
I should look for glassmakers in Constantinople.
Byzantium had plenty of them.
If I got a few craftsmen working…
While I was thinking, a shout came from the stern.
"A ship! We've got ships behind us!"
Everyone on deck turned.
Two ships were visible in the distance.
Too far to make out their flags.
"They're coming this way," Aig murmured.
"Not 'coming,'" Hugh said grimly. "They're approaching. Your Highness—armor. Now."
The mood tightened in an instant.
Two ships closing in on the open sea.
The sailors moved quickly.
"This way, Your Highness."
With Aig's help, I threw on armor and cloak.
We'd gotten practiced—this took only minutes now.
By the time I pulled on my helmet, the two ships had drawn near enough to see clearly.
Flags fluttered on their masts.
Red background. Yellow cross.
I'd seen it a few times in the game…
"Eastern Roman ships!" the captain shouted.
The sailors exhaled with relief.
"Prepare for inspection!"
He gestured, and the rowers stopped as one.
Our ship slowed, then came to a halt.
I approached the captain.
"Inspection?"
"A common thing, Your Highness," he said reassuringly.
"Imperial warships patrol these waters often. They'll check our papers and let us pass."
"I see."
It matched what Marco said earlier.
But something still felt wrong.
A crawling unease.
A bad taste at the back of my throat.
I focused.
At first, everything was vague—
Then, as the distance closed, I felt it.
The same sensation I'd felt before the Bedouin raid.
Why would I be this tense if it's routine inspection?
Hostility.
Impatience.
These weren't men coming to check papers.
Pirates disguised as imperial ships?
I looked at the captain.
"Open distance. Now."
"Pardon?"
"Keep them from coming close. Distance—now."
"But that means changing course. They'll think we're avoiding inspection."
The captain frowned.
"And it'll waste time—"
"It doesn't matter. This is an order."
He hesitated, then turned to Marco.
"Marco—tell His Highness. If we do that, our schedule—"
"Do as the prince says, Vitale."
Marco stepped forward.
His face was tight.
"Is something wrong, Your Highness?"
"We're alone," I said.
Better to give a rational explanation than "it's just a feeling."
Marco had been with me on the road to Eilat.
He knew I'd sensed danger early before.
"If they're pirates disguised as imperial ships, what then? It's better to avoid risk."
Just keeping distance would be enough.
This age had no cannons.
"Then we'll do it," Marco decided. "Vitale, what are you doing? Tell the rowers—now."
With Marco backing me, the captain clicked his tongue and gave the order.
The rowers pulled.
Our ship began moving again.
"They're still approaching!" someone at the stern yelled.
The two ships surged forward faster.
They weren't letting us go.
When they were close enough that faces might soon be seen—
Something whistled through the air.
"They're shooting arrows!"
"Damn it—row faster!"
One of the two ships fell behind, pushed back by the waves.
But the other accelerated and clung to our rear.
Now it was certain.
They were attacking.
"All hands—battle stations!"
"Battle stations!"
The captain's roar and the sailors' shouts echoed over the sea.
"Why would the Eastern Romans attack us—?!"
"There's no time to talk!" Hugh barked. "If you're not fighting, get below deck, Marco!"
Marco bristled, pride flaring.
"R-run away?! I'll fight too!"
"Then shut your mouth and load the crossbows!"
I moved to the captain.
He was barking orders with a strained face.
"Can we still widen the gap?"
"Too late! We're pushing against the current—we can't gain more speed!"
He stomped the deck.
"Everyone up! Draw steel!"
Rowers flooded up from below.
Bows, swords, crossbows in their hands.
The deck became a swarm of bodies.
At least a few hundred.
"They're coming!"
"Shields up!"
Enemy soldiers hurled grappling hooks.
The ropes snapped taut.
The gap between ships closed.
Then long wooden planks were slammed across, bridging the vessels.
"Stay behind me, Your Highness!"
Hugh drew his sword.
Arrows struck his shield with dull thuds.
Armored men surged across the planks—
And the melee exploded.
Men trying to board.
Men trying to push them back into the sea.
I couldn't just watch.
"Aig! Crossbow!"
"Here!"
He handed me a loaded crossbow.
Good. Calm.
Aim.
I sighted down the plank at an enemy soldier.
I steadied the bolt with my finger so it wouldn't wobble.
Chainmail.
They were wearing chainmail too.
So not pirates. That means… they're truly imperial soldiers?
I forced the thought aside.
Later.
Even against chainmail, at this range the impact alone could drop a man.
"Archers—fire! Keep them from crossing!"
I squeezed the lever.
The bolt flew straight.
It punched into a man's side. He groaned, stumbled, and toppled off the plank.
Splash.
The sound vanished under screams and shouting.
I passed the spent crossbow back to Aig and took another.
Relentless shots.
The enemy struggled to gain footing.
On our deck, spears swung, axes hammered the planks.
"Don't thrust—swing! Knock them off!"
Hugh roared.
He cut down men who crossed, sending bodies tumbling.
The air stank of blood—thick and metallic—mixed with sea spray.
The standoff dragged on.
I fired half on instinct.
Aim. Fire. Aim. Fire.
Fifteen minutes in—
The attackers began to falter.
Their momentum broke.
Then—
"ῥακά, ἀτέκνος, ον!!!"
A massive man stepped onto the plank from the enemy ship, swinging a mace.
He looked three times the size of the others.
The moment I saw him, my skin went cold.
My instinct screamed one word:
Run.
He thundered across.
Arrows poured into him, but he ignored them.
They stuck in his armor until he looked like a walking porcupine.
He swung his mace once—
Three sailors flew back like rag dolls.
Our men hesitated.
Fear spread.
"You cowards!"
Hugh spat a curse and surged forward.
"Move back! I'll take him! You oversized Greek mongrel!"
They clashed.
Hugh dodged with lightning speed—
But he couldn't land a clean hit.
A few exchanges in, I saw it:
Hugh was tiring.
"Your Highness, we'll—"
"Wait."
I aimed my crossbow.
They were too close together. No clear shot.
Then Hugh was shoved back and fell.
And suddenly, my line of fire was clean.
The giant raised his mace.
My body moved before my mind did.
I pulled the lever.
The bolt streaked forward—
And punched through the gap in his helmet, straight into his eye.
A scream tore out of him.
"Aaaaaaagh!"
Hugh, still on the deck, drove his sword into the giant's throat.
The massive body collapsed with a heavy thud.
Our sailors erupted.
"WAAAAAA!"
Now it was the enemy's turn to panic.
Their strongest warrior was dead.
Then their captain took a bolt in the shoulder and went down.
Finally—
They surrendered.
The battle ended thirty minutes after it began.
"Aig—are you alright?"
I asked, breathing hard.
Aig's hands were trembling.
"Are you hurt?"
"I think I'm fine," he said between gasps, forcing a smile.
"Except… I can't feel my hands."
"You worked nonstop loading for me."
"You're the one who hit them all, Your Highness. I wouldn't have hit a single one."
Bodies covered the deck—wounded men, dead enemy soldiers.
Our sailors gathered the corpses and prepared to throw them into the sea.
The prisoners were herded to one side.
"Why would an imperial ship attack us?" Aig whispered. "Just because we 'avoided inspection'—would they really—"
"No," I said.
There weren't many people who'd dare something like this.
The emperor's half-sister—Maria Komnene.
And the emperor's uncle—Andronikos Komnenos.
Andronikos Komnenos.
The old snake who staged a coup and murdered his nephew.
It would be one of them.
Or both together.
Now my objective was crystal clear.
Go to Byzantium.
Protect the emperor.
Find the ones behind this—
And deliver "appropriate" revenge.
A very Byzantine conclusion.
I stared at the sea, where red foam rose and spread across the water…
…and let out a slow breath.