Chapter 4: Slave Ship?!
The Narrow Sea — The Stepstones
"Crack—"
Beneath pitch-dark, ink-like clouds, the sky looked like a black cloth draped over a vast fish tank.
And now that fish tank, sealed beneath darkness, was being toyed with by its unseen owner—tilting left, then right.
Accompanied by thunder and raging gales, towering waves rose like an enraged Titan-beast, crashing forward as they launched a ferocious assault on the large sailing ship known as the Sea Fox.
The vessel pitched violently under the storm's wrath, as if it might be swallowed whole by the merciless sea at any moment.
The hull of the Sea Fox swayed wildly amid wind and waves—at times thrown high into the air, at others plunging deep into the troughs below.
On deck, the crew were deathly pale, clinging desperately to whatever they could grab in a futile attempt to steady themselves.
Their eyes were filled with terror. They all knew that once a man fell into the sea, survival was almost impossible.
Inside the cabins, chaos reigned. Wooden planks, coiled ropes, food supplies, and water casks rolled violently across the floor, slamming into the walls with dull, heavy thuds.
Within his cabin, Jon gripped the safety rope tightly. Beside him, his direwolf, Ghost, whimpered uneasily. If Jon had not been there, Ghost might have already been terrified out of his wits.
The falcon Jon had recently acquired screeched anxiously from within its cage, beating its wings in panic. Still untrained, it behaved little differently from an ordinary hawk.
Only now did Jon truly grasp the terrifying power of nature.
Perhaps this was how the Dragonlords of the Valyrian Freehold had once been wiped out—slain mercilessly by disasters even more fearsome than this, leaving behind nothing but broken ruins and mysterious legends.
No wonder mankind has always treated natural disasters as manifestations of divine will…
By now, Jon's initial fear had faded. He could sense that the storm's fury was gradually weakening.
It was a strange, subtle perception—perhaps linked to his abilities as a skinchanger.
Since departing White Harbor, the Sea Fox had sailed the Narrow Sea for nearly a month. Even when passing near Shipbreaker Bay in the Stormlands, they had never encountered a storm of this magnitude.
Back then, Captain Gusta had smugly claimed it was because the "three-headed god" was protecting them.
Now, as the storm descended in full fury, the bearded captain had wisely shut his mouth.
Fortunately, storms at sea came and went swiftly.
After roughly ten minutes of violent rocking, the hull's motion slowly eased.
As Jon finally steadied himself and shook off the lingering dizziness, faint cheers drifted in from the deck.
The relief spread quickly throughout the ship. Even from within the cabins, bursts of jubilant shouting could be heard.
"Knock, knock, knock—"
"Lord Jon! Lord Jon!"
"My lord! My lord! The storm has passed!"
"The Seven protect us!"
"The old gods be praised!"
Lost in thought, Jon was startled by a rapid knock on his cabin door, followed by the excited voices of several youths.
"Lord Jon!"
The moment Jon opened the wooden door, four boys roughly his height rushed inside.
They were youths from White Harbor, companions Jon had grown close to during the voyage.
The inquisitive Frodo, the honest Sam, the lively Pippin, and the equally mischievous Merry.
Because these four shared names with members of a certain legendary fellowship, Jon had jokingly given them a codename:
The Ring Guard.
Since Jon's public identity aboard the ship was that of a beastmaster sworn to House Stark, to common folk like them, he already carried the air of a minor lord.
"Lord Jon, the storm has passed! We're saved!"
Frodo, acting as their ringleader, spoke with barely contained excitement.
His words brimmed with the joy of surviving disaster. Although children from White Harbor were familiar with storms, they had only ever seen them from the safety of the harbor—never like this.
"It must be the old gods protecting us!"
Sam clasped his hands instinctively, his voice filled with reverence.
"Hey, Sam, this is the Narrow Sea. The old gods' power probably doesn't reach this far. In my view, it was the Crone guiding us!"
Pippin offered a different explanation.
"That's not right! Pippin, didn't you say people in Essos worship evil gods? How could—"
"Shut up, Merry!"
Before Merry could finish, Frodo and Pippin clapped hands over his mouth. Sam quickly followed, copying them without hesitation.
After signaling Sam to check the situation outside, Pippin finally breathed out and whispered to Merry,
"Have you forgotten? We're on an Essosi ship. Want to get thrown overboard to feed the sharks?"
"Mmph—!"
Realizing his blunder, Merry hurriedly nodded in apology. Only then did they release him.
"Enough fooling around," Jon said helplessly. "Did you find out what I asked you to investigate?"
"We did, Lord Jon," Frodo replied quickly. "They're definitely sailing south, not southeast. We sneaked into the captain's quarters—Pippin can read sea charts. This is the Stepstones, not the Bay of Myr."
From the moment Jon boarded, the Sea Fox had felt wrong.
Early on, the ship stopped at the Three Sisters, in the Bite.
After that stop, the crew was replaced almost entirely, and several islanders from the Three Sisters were forced aboard.
The Three Sisters—nominally under the Vale—had long been a lawless place. Before Aegon's Conquest, the North and the Vale had fought bitter wars over them.
After the Seven Kingdoms were unified, the islands' resources were depleted, and no lord truly wished to manage them.
As a result, smugglers and pirates made the Sisters their haven, while the local lords lived comfortably off black-market trade.
The captain who welcomed Jon in White Harbor—Ralph—had somehow become the bearded Gusta.
Along the voyage, Jon noticed the Sea Fox continuously picking up Westerosi along the Narrow Sea coast.
Though the crew claimed they were recruiting workers for Myr, most of the sailors were clearly trained fighters.
Combined with Gusta's constant talk of the "three-headed god," Jon's suspicions only deepened.
Among the Nine Free Cities, only Tyrosh worshipped Trios, the three-headed god.
Putting everything together, Jon was nearly certain:
These men were Tyroshi slavers.
"Have you contacted the people I told you about?" Jon asked.
"Yes, Lord Jon," Frodo answered immediately. "All the northerners. We only contacted people we knew personally, or those trusted by our contacts—just like you said."
"Good. Tell them to gather here tonight," Jon said. "And—did you locate the weapons?"
"Yes, Lord Jon!"
As Frodo and the others answered, their gazes shifted toward Sam.
The task of finding the armory had clearly fallen to him.
"I… while helping in the galley, I stole two bottles of ale," Sam admitted softly. "The first mate—Ode—got drunk and told me there's a hidden room in the captain's quarters. That's where he keeps his favorite hand axe."
Jon nodded approvingly.
Sam was the youngest son of a ruined tavern owner in White Harbor. With too many mouths to feed, his father had driven him out to fend for himself.
Because he was hardworking and could cook, Sam had been taken in as an assistant by the ship's obese cook.
With so many people aboard, daily consumption was enormous. Just slicing bread and cheese was exhausting enough.
Sam's help greatly eased the cook's workload, and his diligence earned him plenty of favor.
The cook had let slip several useful details—information Sam relayed to Jon—and had even tried persuading Sam to stay aboard permanently.
That only made Jon more suspicious.
All this time, Jon had been quietly gathering manpower.
In unfamiliar territory, without precautions, survival until the end would be uncertain.
"We act tonight," Jon said calmly. "Wake everyone. We'll move to the deck together. Then we'll find out exactly where these bastards are taking us."
With Sam's confirmation, Jon was now one hundred percent certain:
The Sea Fox was a slaver ship from Tyrosh.
He had to seize control before "Bearded" Gusta sailed into Tyroshi waters.
Otherwise, forget starting over—whether he'd even live long enough to see the end would be questionable.
This world was dangerous and unpredictable.
Even with a system at his side, Jon could not afford carelessness.
That was why tonight's seizure had to succeed.
Failure was not an option.