The sea breeze was smooth, while the waves that bashed against the ship's hull barely changed its course. The scenery from atop the vessel was as if a canvass of the whitish sky and the bluish ocean.
Hubert looked onward with determined days. Skeptical of the very ship he stood upon and the crews maintaining it. Yet, his current trouble, the pirates, lay ahead, a few more glass hours just from the place he was.
With a glance, he looked behind, to those that accompanied him.
The armada of 32 medium sized ships with capabilities to hold 20 men each that roared to life. The mercenaries, knights, soldiers and watchmen that were atop those ships. With their halberds, spears and swords sharpened, meant to cut against their common enemy.
Hubert then looked to the trembling young boy that stood beside him.
"Are you nervous?" he asked the boy, "Fred?"
It was the stable boy from the monastery.
