As the days passed since their departure from the city of Aurelium, Hugo, and Bennet found themselves confined to the cabin. With the limitations in what they can do, they decided to make the most of the cramped space by dedicating their time to training.
The rhythmic clang of sword against sword and the measured footsteps of their footwork echoed in the small space.
Bennet, with his agile and nimble movements, darted around the limited area. Hugo, on the other hand, had grown stronger during the past weeks. His sword swings were powerful and deliberate.
He watched Bennet's every move, anticipating his brother's agile maneuvers.
Bennet launched a series of quick and precise strikes, aiming for Hugo's exposed sides. His sword moved with a finesse that belied his age and experience. But Hugo was equally skilled, parrying Bennet's attacks with a deftness of his own, his blade meeting Bennet's with a resounding clash.
Bennet's speed versus Hugo's strength, the limited space of the cabin only added to the challenge, forcing them to adapt their movements and footwork.
Bennet launched a fierce attack, his movements swift and precise, aimed at what he believed was a vulnerable spot in Hugo's defense. He was confident that this strike would find its mark.
In a split-second reaction, Hugo countered with a forceful strike of his own, unleashing a powerful blow that collided with Bennet's practice sword with such intensity that it split into two.
Bennet stumbled backward, momentarily off balance, his eyes wide with surprise and admiration for his brother's skill.
Hugo, breathing heavily from the exchange, lowered his sword and offered a knowing smile to Bennet.
"Are we even eating the same food?" Bennet said, a playful quirk in his eyebrow as he glanced at his brother, Hugo.
Hugo couldn't help but burst into laughter at Bennet's remark. He understood the underlying sentiment in his brother's words – a sense of awe and admiration for how much Hugo
General Mustafa's applause caught the attention of Bennet and Hugo, and they both turned to face the respected elder.
Bennet bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment as Mustafa addressed them.
"I've been watching both of you for the past few days," Mustafa began, his gaze focused on the young warriors before him. "Your skills for your age are remarkable."
"We are honored by your words, General," Hugo replied with a tone of gratitude.
"But I believe there are weapons far better based on your abilities and physical attributes," General Mustafa remarked, his tone thoughtful and encouraging.
The mention of potentially better-suited weapons piqued the interest of both Bennet and Hugo, and they leaned in attentively, eager to learn more.
"For you, Bennet," Mustafa said, addressing the younger of the two brothers, "with your speed and agility, a dual Damascus steel weapon might be more fitting. They allow for rapid strikes and agile maneuvers, taking full advantage of your natural abilities."
Hugo, always the cautious and thoughtful one, listened intently as Mustafa continued. "Hugo, with your strength and power, consider a larger weapon like a halberd. These will make the most of your physical attributes and allow you to deliver devastating blows."
"Consider the halberd. It's a formidable weapon that can provide you with a significant reach advantage. If you can master its use with one hand, you'll become a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield."
Hugo absorbed this information thoughtfully. The prospect of wielding a weapon like a halberd, known for its destructive capabilities, appealed to his sense of strategy and power.
Bennet's curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to voice his concerns.
"Isn't a Damascus blade often associated with assassins and considered less suitable for face-to-face combat?" he asked, his brow furrowing with uncertainty.
"While it's true that Damascus blades have been favored by some assassins due to its capability," he began, "they can also be advantageous in face-to-face combat for a few key reasons."
"In skilled hands," Mustafa continued, "a Damascus blade can be used with precision, allowing for quick and effective strikes, even in close-quarters combat. Its sharpness and ability to hold an edge can make the difference between victory and defeat."
"Quickness alone may offer little damage," he explained, "but when you combine it with precision, a split-second advantage can mean the difference between life and death in battle."
He emphasized the synergy between speed and accuracy, highlighting how a rapid strike, aimed with pinpoint precision, could be devastating to an opponent.
Bennet, on the verge of raising another concern, was interrupted when the cabin door suddenly slammed open. A soldier burst in, panic evident on his face as he delivered urgent news.
"General, there's a blockage. Over eight ships are blocking our way!" the soldier exclaimed.
General Mustafa wasted no time in response. He turned to Bennet and Hugo, his expression grave, and issued a command.
"Both of you, stay here no matter what," he ordered, his voice resolute and filled with the weight of responsibility.
Bennet and Hugo nodded, understanding the seriousness of the situation.
General Mustafa emerged from the cabin, his gaze focused and determined. As he surveyed the situation, his count of the ships blocking their passage increased from eight to ten, a concerning escalation of the challenge they faced.
"What's the meaning of this?" General Mustafa shouted, his voice resonating like a roaring tiger as he demanded an explanation for the blockade.
From one of the ships in the blockade, a man stepped forward and waved at him. General Mustafa's sharp eyesight, a trait he often compared to that of an eagle, allowed him to recognize the face even at a distance. It was the king of the rising country, the brother of the previous king who had met his end at the hands of Albert.
"Lord Malachi Ravenwood, what's the king of Malevoloria doing in the middle of the ocean?" asked General Mustafa, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
Malevoloria is a land shrouded in perpetual darkness and ruled by a tyrannical and malevolent leader, Lord Malachi Ravenwood. Its terrain is harsh and unforgiving, with jagged mountains, desolate wastelands, and ominous, haunted forests. The skies are often overcast, casting an eerie gloom over the land.
The inhabitants of Malevoloria are subjected to a brutal and oppressive regime, their spirits crushed by fear and suffering. The country is known for its dark sorcery and twisted rituals, which are used to maintain the iron grip of the ruling power.
Its armies consist of ruthless warriors and creatures corrupted by dark entities, ready to carry out the will of their malevolent ruler.
"Is that how you greet a king?" Lord Malachi Ravenwood retorted, his voice dripping with malice and arrogance.
"That's not how I greet a king," General Mustafa replied, unwavering in the face of the malevolence emanating from Lord Ravenwood. "But you are not my king, and you have no authority here."
"Not yet," Lord Malachi Ravenwood whispered cryptically, his dark intentions veiled in secrecy.
"I am hunting for dolphins, two young ones, and their mother," he explained, his words taking on a sinister edge as he referred to the family who was on the ship.
General Mustafa's eyes narrowed as he grasped the true nature of the threat.
"The dolphins are in the ocean, why are you blocking my ships?" General Mustafa demanded, his frustration evident.
Lord Malachi Ravenwood's anger simmered beneath his dark facade. "You know what I mean, old man," he replied with a venomous glare.
"I do not," Mustafa asserted firmly, unwilling to yield to the veiled threats. "And if you continue this course of action, then I have no option but to retaliate"
"Let my men search your ships, and if they find nothing, then you can proceed," Lord Malachi said, his voice carrying a tone of authority and suspicion.
General Mustafa, aware of the immense power Lord Malachi possessed and the high stakes of their encounter, decided to employ a risky strategy to gain the upper hand. He knew that Malachi wouldn't be swayed easily, but he had to try.
General Mustafa raised an eyebrow and spoke in a voice that oozed authority. "Lord Malachi, you should know that you've wandered into dangerous waters. We are not alone, and my allies are formidable. We have the backing of a force that could unleash destruction like you've never seen."
It was a bluff, of course. Mustafa hoped that the mention of a formidable alliance would give Lord Malachi pause, making him reconsider any aggressive actions.
As Lord Malachi's anger flared, his face contorted into a scowl, but he held his tongue, taking a moment to weigh his options. His malevolent smile slowly spread across his lips, and he spoke with an unsettling calmness.
"I think I want to fight," he declared, his voice dripping with malice.
The tension in the air escalated, and soldiers from both sides responded with urgency. They drew their weapons, their faces set in determination as they prepared for an imminent clash.
Another figure stepped onto the scene. It was Captain Orion of the Silver Blade pirates.
"I do not want to partake in this if it means going to war against the country of Al-Mansooria," Captain Orion stated, his voice carrying a tone of caution.
Lord Malachi's face contorted in disbelief, and he whispered the word "coward" under his breath.
Captain Orion, while he didn't hear Lord Malachi's whispered word, had keenly observed his lips and understood the implied insult. He responded with a calculated statement, his words carrying the weight of experience and practicality.
"Unless you have the capability to stand against the army of Al-Mansooria or face Muhammad Ali himself, then count me in," Orion declared. His voice held a hint of skepticism as he continued, "But if not, then you are merely putting your own country in grave danger."
"I have no intention in going down with you" Captain Orion said.
Muhammad Ali, the king of Al-Mansooria, was a figure whose reputation extended far and wide. There were rumors that he had been blessed by a God, claiming that his fists possessed the power to shatter swords and take a life in an instant.
His movements were often likened to those of a butterfly, graceful and unpredictable, while his punches were said to be as swift and precise as the sting of a bee. It was as if his every motion was a work of art, and his attacks were a blur that left opponents bewildered and unable to anticipate where it was coming from.
General Mustafa, once a rebel who had been a formidable warrior, had faced Muhammad Ali, the king himself in numerous battles. Despite his skill, he never emerged victorious against the mighty king.
After each intense battle, the king would approach Mustafa, who was nursing his wounds, and with a genuine smile, he would offer words of encouragement. "Come back again once you are ready," Muhammad Ali would say, his tone filled with respect. "We won't stop until you accept me".
He knew that true victory was not just in defeating an opponent but in winning their trust and allegiance.
"No one's going to know if these people are dead beneath the ocean," Lord Malachi Ravenwood remarked.
"Haven't you noticed," Captain Orion retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "they've already sent ravens to inform their allies about their situation?"
The king's eye widened, full of anger, he looked like a volcano that was about to erupt.
"Fine, off you go, old man," Lord Malachi Ravenwood conceded with a sigh, relenting in the face of the tense standoff.
"Thank you. Now, please command your people to move," General Mustafa requested.
"Yeah, yeah. Everyone, move away," Malachi grumbled in annoyance as he reluctantly issued the order.
As the tension eased, Mustafa couldn't resist a teasing remark. "Take care, your highness."
"You too. I hope I can bury you soon," Malachi retorted, his irritation evident as he retreated to his cabin.
With a potential confrontation averted, the ships began to move, and a sense of relief washed over those aboard General Mustafa's vessel.
As General Mustafa walked away from the encounter, he couldn't shake the feeling that they had narrowly dodged a bullet. Despite the childishness he had witnessed in Lord Malachi, winning a confrontation, especially with the Silver Blade pirates in the mix, would have been an uphill battle with almost no chance of them winning.
"God has helped me again today" he said.