92.

The Imperial Princess had advised departing at dawn tomorrow. That meant time remaining was not much. Ro strode up the annex’s staircase, leaping three steps at a time. Several maids bustled about, exclaiming she might get hurt, but Ro had no mind to listen. Spotting a familiar face among them, Ro immediately raised her voice.

“Steward!”

“Yes, young mistress.”

“Bring Melvin! No, no time—send word instead. Tell him we’re sailing at dawn tomorrow, so give generous severance pay to all originally hired crew and dismiss them all, then hire new ones!”

“D-departing…?”

“That’s right. Oh, by the way, how much money do I still have available?”

The steward quickly rushed to Ro and pulled a notebook from his coat, flipping through several pages.

“Well… since you’ve hardly spent any of your budget since arriving, about fifteen thousand sol remains.”

“Fifteen thousand?”

For a moment, Ro thought she’d misheard. Considering that purchasing a decent galley would cost roughly twenty thousand sol, fifteen thousand was an enormous sum for just a year’s budget. Whether he interpreted her expression correctly or not, the steward began explaining nervously, sweat pouring down his face.

“In ten days, it’ll be four months, so you’ll receive another ten thousand sol allocation. Of course, that’s strictly under the authority of the Duchess…”

“So that’s only four months’ worth of budget?”

“Yes… Is it perhaps too little?”

Damn it. Too little? If she stayed here for just four or five years, she’d surpass the entire fortune of Crimson Dawn! Yet the steward was speaking of it as if it were petty change—where should she even begin to point out the absurdity? The sheer scale of the difference left her utterly speechless. Still, for now, it was fortunate.

“Listen well. The sloop Melvin secured is a caravel. Find a xebec no matter what—it’s worth scouring the entire harbor. Offer a twenty thousand sol premium on top of the caravel’s price, and you’ll surely find an owner willing to switch. With the port blocked, they’ll be even more eager! Send all servants to unload and reload the cargo. Use the remaining five thousand sol to stock up on dried rations, medicine, bullets, and firearms!”

“So… replace the caravel with a xebec sloop…”

“A xebec. Hurry up and move!”

“Yes, yes!”

As the steward scrambled off with the servants, Ro shouted after him.

“The cargo load must be enough for thirty people to eat comfortably for two months! The more gunpowder and medicine, the better! Just give the money to Melvin—he’ll know what to do!”

* * *

Thud.

Another thud.

Turner lazily bounced a leather ball against the wall. Half his face was covered by his hat as he lay slouched on the sofa, flicking only his wrist. The room was thick with dust—when it had last been aired out, no one knew—and the floor was littered with empty bottles and cigarette packs, barely leaving space to step. It was the very picture of a life being squandered away completely.

He had abruptly withdrawn into seclusion after “that day.” That day—the day the noblewoman of Montrosa had suddenly stirred such turmoil in his heart.

At first, he thought she was just a strange woman. Then, he briefly recalled Crimson Dawn, that terrifying woman. Third came admiration—her poison and tenacity were remarkable. Even with toned-down training, very few burly men could endure Turner’s regimen to the end.

And then… the fourth time, when she had drawn a blade on him, catching him off guard.

Whenever, during drinking sessions, a married comrade joked about falling in love again after his wife pointed a knife at him, Turner would clutch his stomach and roll on the floor laughing. He’d mock, “Was your heart racing from fear of death or excitement?” Yet now that he himself was in that situation, it wasn’t funny at all. Damn it, Jack, I never thought I’d end up like you.

If only the woman were his wife… But Turner’s opponent was a noblewoman—one already married. And her husband, of all people, was someone who provoked inferiority in every other man, whether in looks, status, or everything in between. Surely, when that woman looked at him, she saw nothing more than a man with eyes, nose, and mouth in the right places.

As he drowned himself in these wretched emotions, he heard someone stomping up the narrow staircase. More trouble, no doubt. Turner pressed himself deeper into the sofa and tilted his hat further, completely covering his face. Instantly, the door burst open.

“Hey! Boss!”

Coster, barging in without knocking, theatrically sneezed amid the cascading dust.

“Ugh, it stinks of mold! Get outside once in a while! Or at least take on a job. You love money—why live so miserably?”

“None of your business.”

“If you keep running the guild like this, funds will dry up, you know? And… really, you won’t go?”

“Go where…?”

After nearly three days of silence, his voice was hoarse, cracking with every word. Turner grabbed a random bottle rolling at his feet, yanked the cork out with his teeth, and gulped down a couple of swallows.

“Haven’t you heard the news?”

Turner shrugged indifferently. But Coster showed no sign of backing down.

“They’ve finally approved a sloop for departure. They’re sending a ship to rescue the isolated navy units.”

He snorted through his nose. A rescue ship? With war looming, they were going to split already scarce manpower even thinner? Still, Montrosa’s Vice Admiral—no matter how tight things were—had to at least make a show of dispatching naval forces.

“Don’t care.”

Whether the Vice Admiral lived or died. As long as the woman was nobility, the love he felt was one he had to kill.

“Just came back from checking—apparently someone paid a twenty thousand sol premium to buy Lady Yerena’s xebec. They’re loading only the finest medicine and dried rations aboard.”

Turner grumbled.

“What a ridiculous waste of money.”

“Exactly! So snap out of it and take on some job, anything! Do you know how much money’s flowing because of this?”

“…”

“And lately, the young Duchess Montrosa, who’s quite popular among citizens, is personally leading the rescue mission—so all the decent sailors are rushing to sign up…”

“…What?”

“What?”

“Why are you telling me this now!”

“Hey! Did you even pretend to listen when I spoke?”

Turner shot up from the sofa like a spring. Not only had he suddenly regained energy, but he looked ready to sprint out the door. As Coster stared in disbelief, Turner snatched the half-discarded sword lying nearby and firmly strapped it to his side. Without a backward glance, he tumbled down the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

“Just know I won’t be back for a while!”

“What? Hey, you madman! Hey! I’m quitting! I said I’m quitting!”

* * *

Preparations for departure went very smoothly. Most of the crew Melvin had originally hired were pirates or criminals, so they were given generous severance pay and all contracts were terminated. After all, they couldn’t very well carry pirates aboard a rescue ship supposedly bound to save navy personnel.

Finding capable sailors within half a day had been a headache, but fortunately, with a large reward offered, applicants poured in. Since obtaining departure permits was difficult for the time being, many among them were actually quite skilled.

“Um…”

Just as she was carefully checking her luggage one last time to ensure nothing was missing, a presence stirred behind her. She turned—Anna stood there.

“Are you… really going yourself?”

She looked terribly worn, as if she hadn’t slept properly. Ro smiled faintly and replied.

“Yes. You don’t need to follow. You’d just get in the way.”

Anna pouted slightly, perhaps regretting the sharpness of her deliberate attempt to push her away.

“You suffer from severe seasickness too, young mistress.”

“…”

Ro suddenly remembered something she’d completely forgotten. Damn it—now that she thought about it, ‘Leah’s’ body was prone to severe motion sickness. How could she have forgotten that? Seeing the stunned look on Ro’s face, Anna wore a smug, triumphant expression. Then she pulled something from her pocket.

“Take this.”

“What is this…?”

Ro opened the box with a skeptical look. And as soon as she did, she understood. It was a salve made from crushed latique herb—something even amateur pirates used for motion sickness. Its distinctive scent was unmistakable.

“Apply it behind your ears and under your nose—it helps ease seasickness.”

As Anna placed the salve on her palm and silently held it out, perhaps thinking Ro didn’t know what it was, she added:

“It must’ve been expensive for your wages…”

“It was cheaper than that medicine you gave me before. Besides, you pay me so generously.”

That medicine. She must be referring to the weak remedy Ro had given her early in their marriage. Even in this situation, making a joke—Anna never ceased to amaze her. Anna pulled Ro into a tight embrace, then stepped back, forcing a smile.

“Just come back safely. You understand?”

Her gaze was heavy with worry. Ro responded with a bright, confident smile.

“I will.”

* * *

Past ten in the evening, all necessary supplies had been loaded onto the ship. About ten crew members boarded, carrying only minimal luggage, and five mercenaries personally hired by the steward also loaded their gear.

With the last person aboard, all preparations were complete. Just as Ro was about to signal to raise the anchor, a cloud of dust approached from afar, making a loud commotion—hard to tell if it was a person or something else. Upon closer inspection, it was Turner on horseback.

“Wait, wait a moment!”

Ro looked Turner up and down with a cold, disdainful glance as he hurriedly dismounted. He’d come with nothing but a single sword at his waist… looked like he’d just woken up from a nap and rushed over upon hearing the news.

“Take me with you.”

“What’s your game?”

Ro narrowed her eyes.

“Game? You need mercenaries, don’t you? Hire me.”

“…Need money?”

Turner bared his teeth in a grin.

“Yeah. A lot.”

Without much thought, Ro nodded. With urgent needs, a man like him could easily fill one role. Turner grabbed the rope ladder Melvin had lowered and swiftly climbed onto the sloop.

Soon, the sails unfurled, and the crew’s loud, synchronized shouts as they turned the capstan echoed across the dock. Ro gazed out at the open sea, immersed in a strange mix of unease and exhilaration.

At last, they were departing.