DISORDER

  A ship rocked gently over a calm sea, its sails catching the breeze with lazy grace. The weather was forgiving—sunlight glinted off the rolling waves, and the occasional bird circled overhead, scanning the waters in search of land or prey.

  But peace had no place on the deck.

  “Too deep, Captain,” spat one of the men, peering over the edge with a scowl. “No net’ll reach that far. Most of the slaves we tossed in sank like stones.”

  “Aye,” said another, wiping sweat from his brow, “and the few that tried swimmin’ didn’t last long. Not a one came back up.”

  A third burst into laughter, swaying on his feet, his breath rank with wine. “Gods, you lot are daft. Tell me—what fool sends half-drowned wretches to fetch something from the deep when they’ve likely never set foot in a river, let alone a sea?”

  He leaned on a barrel and let out a snort. “Might as well have asked the rats to go diving.”

  “We’ll run out of bodies soon enough,” the first muttered darkly. “Might need to make port somewhere and fetch fresh stock.”

  The drunkard grinned, flicking his chin toward the aft deck. “Or better yet… send that dainty thing the captain keeps so close. He’s light. Might float.”

  They all turned to look.

  The young man leaned silently against the wall, arms crossed tight, one boot resting against the wood. His jaw was clenched, his gaze fixed on nothing. He didn't flinch, didn’t move. But his fingers curled slightly at the insult.

  The captain, who had been standing with them all along, finally stepped forward. One hand rested on his hip as he turned with theatrical flair, the tails of his coat swirling behind him.

  He faced the young man directly, his eyes raking over him from head to toe. The boy’s gaze met his without flinching—steady, but cold.

  The captain tilted his head, his voice slick with insinuation. “Boy… you do look like you could hold your breath.”

  The young man said nothing.

  The captain took a step closer. “You did promise, didn’t you? That you’d be the only one to help us fetch the jewel from these cursed waters.” His tone sharpened, less amused now. “And tell me—how many days has it been since we found the damned thing?”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  The crew fell into a hush, half-amused, half-curious. The drunkard gave a grunt of laughter, but no one else spoke.

  The boy approached the railing and looked down at the sea. The waves rolled steadily beneath them, calm and deep. He stood still, unreadable.

  Behind him, the captain’s voice broke the quiet.

  “You’re hesitating.”

  The boy didn’t turn. “Do you not want me back?”

  The captain approached with slow steps, his tone growing colder. “You were useful when I thought you could bring it up. But it’s been days, and you’ve done nothing. Your fine promises mean shit. What use is a treasure we can’t reach?”

  The boy turned to face him, steady. His jaw was tight, his silence sharper than words.

  “You sounded so certain,” the captain said, narrowing his eyes. “Like you already had a way. And since we got here, you’ve kept that mouth shut.”

  A few of the crew muttered in agreement. One of them gave a short, nasty laugh.

  Then the captain moved.

  He grabbed the boy by the collar and yanked him forward, inches from his face.

  “You hiding something from me, you little rat?”

  The boy didn’t flinch. A faint, mocking smile curled at the edge of his mouth. “How dare I.”

  That was enough.

  The captain snarled and slammed him to the deck. The boy hit hard, the thud echoing off the wood. He grunted but stayed silent.

  “Tie him up!” the captain barked. “…let him rot in the dark till he speaks.”

  Two sailors stepped in. One gave him a hard kick to the ribs before dragging him toward the hold. The young man didn’t cry out.

  As the sailors dragged the boy away, coughing from the blow, the captain stepped after him a few paces and turned to the rest of the crew, raising his voice so all on deck could hear.

  “Enough of this sulking! We’re closer than ever to the jewel. We’ll stay docked tonight. Rest the hands, refill our ale stores—find some wenches to warm the hours.”

  A few men let out eager shouts, others laughed or clapped each other on the back.

  The captain’s voice rang above them all— “Drink, fuck, and sleep while you can.”

  The forest swallowed Jana as the horse carried her deeper, branches whipping past, the moonlight breaking through in fractured beams. By the time she reached the cabin, her pulse was pounding harder than the hooves beneath her. She slid from the saddle and pushed the door open.

  Inside, chaos. The place had been searched—drawers overturned, ashes from the cold hearth scattered across the floor, scraps of parchment torn and trampled into the dirt. They were gone, and many things weren’t in their places—simple items, papers, their content unknown for her—things that could have been as vital as they were trivial.

  And in that stillness, she confirmed this was no accident but Edmund’s design; the ransacking, so soon after Jack’s release, could only bear his mark. What mattered now was to make an inventory of the objects that had once filled this place, and of what was missing.

  She stepped back into the clearing, the scarf still wound about her face, her body taut with unease. Her eyes darted right and left without truly seeing, unfocused, as if her mind clung only to the cabin steps behind her. At last, she tore the scarf away, letting it fall into her lap as she sank down, elbows resting on her thighs, her breath misting in the cold night air.

  She had barely noticed—someone, in that dark forest, had been watching her every move.

  The moment they recognized Jana’s face, surprise flickered across their features. But just as swiftly, it faded, replaced by a crooked, sinister smile—curious, almost delighted.