A coil of unease tightened in his stomach, then relaxed as the words of Captain Crowe echoed in his mind Everyone should lay low.
Yes, they had committed an audacious act of theft against the Empire.
There was no overlooking the danger they were in they had made themselves targets, and the Empire was not an entity known for letting affronts go unanswered.
Marcellus felt a prickling at the back of his neck, a tingling reminder of vulnerability.
It was not just the stolen goods that were at stake; it was information—knowledge of illicit networks, covert operations, and hidden allegiances—that could compromise them all.
Crowe was shrewd, cunning, and abundantly aware of the treacherous waters they navigated. It made sense for him to scatter the crew, to let the Viper vanish into the ocean's expansive cloak for a while.
Standing on the wooden planks of the dock, Marcellus let his gaze drift across the water, out toward the open sea. If the Viper was laying low, it was doing so effectively, camouflaged by the endless expanse of water and sky.
The Viper's absence made a point loud and clear the stakes were high, and caution was the better part of piracy.
Frustration simmered within him, but alongside it was a grudging respect for Crowe's discretion.
The crew had been given a directive to lay low; seeking them out now could expose them to unnecessary risk.
Disappointed but resigned, Marcellus pivoted on his heel and made his way back through the maze of shipping crates and anchor ropes. It was a disquieting realization, knowing that even as he sought answers, those who held them were disappearing into the shadows, like ships swallowed by the fog.
The sun was past its zenith, and the afternoon stretched before him, its hours unclaimed. What now?
With the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the ground, Marcellus returned to the secluded clearing where he had trained earlier.
The natural clearing offered a refuge from prying eyes and the chaotic rhythm of Mythralis' streets. Here, amid the embrace of trees and the quietude of nature, he felt a semblance of peace, a space where he could focus solely on the swordplay that beckoned him.
Unsheathing the medium-quality sword he had purchased, Marcellus took a moment to appreciate its balance and heft.
It was not a master-crafted weapon, but it was functional and reliable—a reflection, perhaps, of its forger.
He moved into his initial stance, grounding himself with a deep inhalation, and then began his swings.
The air parted before the blade with an audible hiss, a testament to the speed that belied his seemingly unhurried movements.
Again and again, Marcellus executed a series of slashes, thrusts, and chops.
His muscles began to hum with the warm glow of exertion, but even as his physical body was engaged in the repetitious actions, his mind found a different sort of clarity.
With every swing, Marcellus could almost feel the weight of his uncertainties and suspicions being dissected, parsed into manageable pieces.
The tensions with Ingrid, the evasiveness of Captain Crowe and the Viper crew, the mysterious exchanges with Edwin—each issue was like a knot, gradually loosening its grip under the meditative repetition of his swordplay.
As the sunlight started to wane, casting a golden glow over the clearing, Marcellus wiped the sweat from his brow and paused to catch his breath.
The physicality of the session had been demanding, but in that laborious exercise, he found a sliver of catharsis. It wasn't a solution to the intricate web of challenges he faced, but it granted him a brief respite—a momentary stillness in a world constantly in motion.
He sheathed his sword and made his way back to the inn.
As he stepped into the warm, artificially lit space, the aroma of cooked food welcomed him. Though he was physically drained, his spirit felt buoyed, and resilient.
After a hearty supper that refuelled his tired body, Marcellus retreated to his room. As he lay down on the modest bed, he couldn't shake off the persistent undertow of his earlier thoughts, but they felt more distant now, less immediate.
With that, sleep descended on him like a soothing veil, offering a temporary escape from the labyrinthine complexities of his life. Tomorrow was another day—a blank canvas.
Marcellus' eyes snapped open at the unexpected sound, a sudden knock shattering the calm of the early morning darkness.
For a moment, his heart raced as his senses went on high alert, cataloguing the situation.
He was alone, the room was still shrouded in the dim light that bled through the curtained window, and someone—someone he had no reason to expect—was knocking at his door.
His hand instinctively reached for the curved dagger he had acquired, its leather-wrapped handle offering a familiar, reassuring grip. But then he paused, his fingers hovering just above the hilt.
The knock had been deliberate, even polite—an odd preamble to a potential attack, yet an equally strange way to initiate a peaceful conversation at this ungodly hour.
Who could be seeking me out? I hadn't told anyone where I was staying. Was I followed? The possibilities unfurled in his mind like a scroll, each one imbued with its own unique shade of risk and intention.
Grimacing at the conflict within him, he finally withdrew his hand from the dagger, choosing caution over aggression for the moment.
He padded softly across the floor to the door, his movements quiet but deliberate. The stillness of the room now felt like a charged field, every fibre of his being tuned to the impending interaction.
He unlatched the door cautiously and opened it just a crack, enough to see who stood on the other side but not wide enough to give them easy access.
The corridor beyond was dim, its contours softened by the scant light that emanated from a distant lantern.
"Who is it?" Marcellus questioned, his voice tinged with an unavoidable edge of suspicion.
Whoever stood on the other side of the door whether friend or foe, ally or adversary, they were also about to reveal something about the volatile world Marcellus found himself navigating. What that revelation would be, he was about to find out.