Quexajo and Akialom share a wonderful handshake after the match through intertwining their hands together. Sire G?nthr? Güd excuses himself to tend to his trustee. As Quexajo helps himself head towards me near the rails. Even the First Mate himself is amazed by the sparring show while he is clapping his hands together - Conrad Maria La Fayette-Santa Cruz then showers both of the competitors with gold coins despite the aftermath as frustrating yet resounding afterwards. Meanwhile, Quexajo and I are having a light snack along the bannister. After the duel, that ended in a draw - I think it was for the best. I am just glad that the bets were off. The smell of the salt air then grazing to my face. The upper deck is filled with laughter and cacophony from the untuned choir and drunken bards.

  “Milord, mead?” Quexajo approaches, as he offers me for a second set of drinks.

  “Sure, brother. That was an intense fight back there.” I accept, curling my lips and widening my brows.

  “My gratitude. Cheers, milord.” as we both carefully clink our mugs to each other.

  “Cheers.”

  We take our first sip of these seconds after the initial busting, Quexajo chugs bottoms up as I slowly enjoy mine. Staring to the north to where Queen Anda at. The kingdom. And I hope, for certain, that they are still fine. And with further mesmerising, Lord Aisla pops into my mind. Oh, yeah - he is there as well. There’s nothing to worry about, then? I expel some gas out of my lungs. Either out of relief or anxiety.

  Quexajo then nudges me to the side, as he begins, “Milord…” he catches my attention.

  “Yes.” I respond, while I turn my head over to him.

  “So, do you miss them?”

  “Which ‘them’, Quexajo.” replying, as I take another dose.

  “The milady.”

  “Uh-huh, Mother?”

  “Lady ?…”

  “Aunt.”

  “I am referring to ‘them’, milord. Consider the Hagan family on the list. The entire Haganopolis.”

  “Who doesn’t, brother? Queen Anda, Lord Aisla, and the boyos - Kehina. Kehina is my second home. Always. I miss them all, man. C’mon. Even the old man. Even though we had some arguments, he was still my father. Lord Rayl will always be my father. Whether in the seven heavens or in this world - Geb?t?e.” as I literally come close into breaking, I stop my tears from falling in a second.

  He taps my back for a second in response, giving me a smile. The moment feels both heavy and comforting, the breeze from the sea a soft contrast to the weight of the words shared. Quexajo’s presence is grounding, a reminder of the bonds that stretch beyond blood, beyond duty. His genuine happiness, though meager, reassures me… I know it to the heart. I just know it, and his back pat lingers like a distinct brotherly love.

  I reiterate once more and always be, mumbling: “Surrogate or not, Quexajo. Lord Rayl raised us like brothers. Bearing each others’ laden. Supporting each other in times of distress. And many more. Such perks to have.” to myself that I’m enormously grateful for having him by my side.

  He veers his gaze, shifting: “What’s that, milord?” as surprisingly it is, he manages to notice me mouthing.

  “Nothing…” I just brush him off by bringing these thoughts to his face, I then pretend to cough afterwards. So, no - it’s abashing.

  However, I rectify it by rephrasing the sentence once again, complaining: “What kind of question is that? Of course, I am, you would. C’mon, stop looking at me like that.” as I try to wipe the tears of my eyes, he then begins to smirk.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “It is just a sweat. Quit your antics, will you?” adding, though I believe Quexajo doesn’t buy it, as he wholeheartedly laughs.

  Quexajo takes another long swig from his mug, as he calms from terrorizing me. His sights flick towards the horizon whether to the south (Inglovia) or to the north (Kehina). The sea is tranquil as of yet, a far cry from the screeching noise of the upper deck. And the rocking motion settles. He reciprocates my stare, his grin softened, gradually less teasing and more serious, a silent kind of knowing. I too sip from my mug. His is finished while mine is underway to quarter empty.

  "Milord," he says, voice slow but firm and manly, like he's gearing himself up for something he’s been meaning to ask. Smacking his tongue, he continues, "You ever think about the old days? Before... all this? Before leaving Kehina. After that case in that corral." He gestures vaguely to the deck, to the ship rocking gently under our feet.

  I lean against the bannister, letting the cool air brush past me, feeling the weight of his askance bury in my chest. It’s quite a loaded one. Not because it’s hard to recall or somewhat feel that sensation yet again, but because I try not to. The old days weren’t easy. But they weren’t all bad, either. ‘Those days are over’, so they speak but can we replicate those marvelous moments before us? The warmth of the hearth, the sound of Kehina's laughter, Lord Rayl's voice bellowing from the yesteryears of my education under him, the rant between me and the boyos - the inner circle of Lady Anda... all of them - those things stick with me, like they’re carved into my bones.

  I stare astern of the ship, looking to where the Kingdom is and as I am setting sail back to my home - Haganoplis. I answer Quexajo, turning: “Well, you see? Every now and then, it's good to be home. Once for a while. And thank you, brother, for watching my back all the time whether we're in Kehina either as of now venturing back to home.” my glance to him, with a poise of certainty as we move towards the helm to where the captain (Conrad Ma.) is as of now of this ship (Condemna).

  Quexajo and I have passed on the upper deck, noticing his untainted nonchalant looks - eyes forward. I intend to head to the bridge, as he follows me. We walk in a quite modest manner without hitching a breath while I'm waiting for his response. He clears his throat then he hums afterwards. It gives me a fright for his sudden actions. Is he going to speak right now? Furthermore, while the gust squalls before us head-on. Quexajo shrieks out of his stoic get up. I couldn't help but laugh.

  “Finally, I can say this - ‘1 all’. Haha…” the smile is instilled upon my lips. Well, this is a payback earlier.

  Quexajo then turns to me with a puzzled look on his face, asking: “What in the Kigal are you talking about, Lord Geoff?” as he burrows his lips into his mouth and wrinkles his brows.

  “Nothing,... just taking some notes about our current bouts. By my count, and right now - yes, we’re even.” continuing to laugh at him in his most vulnerable state.

  “Whatever…” he tries to dismiss.

  At the helm, Quexajo and I are greeted with Conrad’s salutation. He pilots the ship for now, as his several bridge mates and officers are taking their leisure time off.

  “Lord Geoff, Quexajo…” his hands stick to the helm, giving us a modest bow.

  “Captain La Fayette-Santa Cruz, good evening…” as suddenly Quexajo and I return back the gesture, startling as may sound - same intonation, same mood, and same pinch that come out from both of our mouths.

  “Oh, Lord Geoff. ‘First Mate’ or ‘Chief Mate’ is just fine. Don’t sweat it by calling me such a prestigious name.”

  “Well, you pilot the ship. Condemna needs a captain and as you took the responsibility yourself, Captain.” Quexajo follows, waving his hand in open palms.

  “What do you mean by that, esteemed Quexajo? How exactly does a duelist know something about nautical, arrr?” Conrad challenges Quexajo’s notion but I know he knows the answer to his question.

  “Well, pirates and navies alike have something similar…”

  “And that is… ?” I ask on behalf of Conrad.

  “Well, listen - Lord Geoff, Captain Conrad… well, for Captain, he can correct me if he wants to since he’s adept at this particularity.”

  “Sure…” Conrad approves.

  “So what about the akinness of both these?” trying to get back to the previous conversation.

  “Oh right. Both the pirates and navies have their own captains. And so do their own assistants or lieutenants - chief officers, chief mates, first officers, second mates, whatever. And as far as I know, officers and mates at the sea are astonishingly the same. Fairly interchangeable. Right, captain?” Quexajo spouts.

  “Hmmm…” Conrad muses, as he agrees by nodding his head.

  “If a second officer has two chicks sitting on his laps - left and right, then a first officer should have three chicks while the captain has either double or more.”

  “Your point is?” I squint my eyes, forcing him to face me by holding his shoulder. In the back of my head: ‘Why are we talking about women’ all of the sudden?

  “The point still stands, Lord Geoff. However, the only difference is that pirates steal women while navies don’t. Women are being handed to the navy to whomever they plight their allegiance to.” Quexajo finishes.

  “Touché,...” Conrad gives Quexajo an applause, leaving his hands to the helm for a stint, “Touché… you took the tongue out of my mouth, lad.” as he couldn’t contain his laughter.

  “All these shitty talks, Quexajo. Just direct your point, will you?”

  “Chill out, Lord Geoff…” Conrad intervenes, “What Quexajo states is true, jokes aside. when someone captains a ship who is experienced he is the captain. For example, myself. Then if someone who’s more experienced than I am, knowing I am the captain of Condemna, this senior officer will be captain whilst I’ll be demoted to a chief officer.” Conrad explains.