Aboard the Vessel: Maiden Voyage and a Bold Bosun

As the sailboat pulled away from the desolate island, the land’s silhouette gradually receded at the edge of the horizon, eventually becoming a faint, gray blur against the vast expanse of the sea.

Winter days were remarkably short. Already, the golden sun was beginning its descent into the ocean, setting the waves and the boundless sky ablaze in a brilliant, fiery orange-red.

Their maiden day at sea proved exceptionally smooth. A steady, gentle breeze propelled the vessel forward at full speed, while the sailors’ lively shanties enveloped the entire ship in an atmosphere of cheerful ease.

“Ding-a-ling.”

“Ding-a-ling.”

A sailor, ringing a bell, made a full circuit of the deck. At its chime, people erupted in cheers, dropping their tasks and surging towards the open hatch in the ship’s central deck.

It was dinner. Steaming hot food, brought forth by the cook, was laid out on the deck. Sailors clustered in excited groups, jostling good-naturedly to claim their portions.

Tonight’s menu featured a hearty salted pork and bean stew, alongside slices of roasted black bread, all complemented by a vast pot of creamy white fish chowder.

Given the excellent weather, few chose to dine cooped up below deck. Most sought out sheltered spots along the ship’s rail, fashioning makeshift tables from thick planks. There, cradling their rough wooden bowls, they ate and engaged in boisterous conversations with their shipmates.

Sailors, accustomed to years at sea, often found themselves terribly repressed. Their conversations, consequently, veered into crude territory, ranging from discussions of Vero City’s essential eateries to collective fantasies about noble ladies and their daughters.

As daylight began to dim, oil lamps flickered to life across the ship. Soon, some men pulled out dice and well-worn playing cards, settling onto the deck for a session of fervent gambling. A constant din of boisterous chatter and clatter ensured that peace remained an elusive dream.

Saranya and her two companions found themselves utterly unable to blend into the boisterous company of the sailors. After fending off several attempts at harassment, they finally managed to secure a relatively quiet spot at the ship’s bow, thus escaping the unruly crowd.

Though the ship’s provisions weren’t entirely unpalatable, they paled considerably in comparison to tavern fare. The greatest inconvenience, however, was the complete absence of cutlery. They could only rub their grimy hands together, tearing off bits of bread to scoop beans into their mouths, then wash it all down with the fish soup.

Saranya, having endured several years of school cafeteria food, found that such simple meals were hardly a hardship. She merely regarded it as a nostalgic callback to her past life.

“So… disgusting…”

Kaelan, however, was a different story. The young witch recoiled from the fishy scent, covering her mouth in distress after a single bite, constantly threatening to retch. Helpless, Saranya could only painstakingly scrape off the fish skin with her dagger, carefully remove every bone, then pinch off the tender white meat, coaxing her mistress to consume it bit by bit.

Beside the two, Paresha, her cheeks faintly flushed, quietly nibbled on her black bread. She remained remarkably docile and well-behaved, a stark contrast that brought Saranya considerable peace of mind.

“Mistress, please…”

Determined not to let her mistress starve, Saranya resorted to a mix of pleading and coaxing, carefully spooning food into Kaelan’s mouth. Kaelan, wrinkling her delicate nose, reluctantly swallowed the bread and fish, all the while muttering under her breath about its repulsive taste.

“Slurp~”

Truth be told, Kaelan seemed to prefer sucking Saranya’s fingers far more than she did the fish itself.

“Uh… that—”

Saranya quickly discerned her mistress’s peculiar little habit. She chose not to address it directly, instead swallowing excitedly. When Kaelan, with an equally eager expression, offered a slight, knowing curve of her lips, the nature of their once-normal feeding ritual shifted irrevocably.

“Mmm… suck…”

In their unspoken, mutual understanding, the portions Saranya offered grew smaller with each passing moment, while her fingers lingered at Kaelan’s lips for increasingly prolonged durations…

By the time dinner was entirely consumed, Saranya, having achieved her unspoken objective, considered ending the game. Yet Kaelan showed no sign of relinquishing her hold, pressing her cool lips firmly against Saranya’s index finger, a glint of sly amusement dancing in her eyes:

“Paresha…”

At Kaelan’s summons, Paresha immediately understood. She rose obediently, positioning herself to shield Saranya and Kaelan, effectively creating a small, private alcove for the two of them with her body.

As ever, the priestess, relegated to her subordinate position, was left utterly disregarded by the pair. A long string of drool hung from her chin, her cheeks were flushed crimson, and her eyes seemed on the verge of bulging from her skull.

Paresha’s features were contorted, her fingers trembling as they intertwined, revealing a contradictory expression—one of both satisfaction and yearning, fervent desire and profound desolation. She truly appeared pathetic… Saranya found it utterly impossible to meet her gaze.

Fortunately, a small, unexpected interruption offered her a reprieve.

“Yo.”

A husky female voice, imbued with a cheerful heartiness, broke through the din. The speaker, moving with the briskness of a fresh sea breeze, rapidly drew near to them.

“Well now, let’s see what kind of blissful leisure three little beauties are enjoying out here, hm?”

Saranya abruptly yanked her finger away, causing Kaelan to choke with a gasp. The young witch then leaned against the ship’s rail, erupting into a fit of rhythmic coughing.

The newcomer was a young female sailor, only marginally shorter than Saranya. Her physique was fluid and athletic, brimming with an intrinsic power. Years of sun and wind exposure had undoubtedly tanned her skin to a healthy, alluring deep wheat color, shimmering as if brushed with lustrous honey.

A faded, heavily worn linen shirt was casually tucked into her waist, revealing firm, well-defined abdominal muscles and a tantalizing glimpse of her ‘mermaid line’. Her ample, proud curves, barely restrained by two hastily tied hemp ropes across her chest, seemed poised to burst forth, swaying provocatively with each of her confident strides.

“Who are you?”

“Talia, the bosun here…”

Talia, still chewing something with audible smacks, spoke with a slight slur,

“Aside from Captain Borok and the first mate, I’m the highest authority on this vessel.”

“Oh.”

Saranya’s response was decidedly cool, yet the overly familiar Talia appeared utterly unbothered. She stomped her bare feet, then bent to roll her pant legs up to her knees, revealing wheat-colored calves streaked with salt.

Taking advantage of the moment, Saranya thoroughly scrutinized Talia.

Talia’s dark brown, curly hair, as thick as a mass of seaweed, wildly brushed the deck, haphazardly tied into a crooked high ponytail with a red cloth strip. A delicate black tattoo adorned her back muscles, and a necklace fashioned from shells and small animal teeth encircled her neck. Her face was sharply angular, with silver hoop earrings piercing both earlobes.

The trinkets Talia sported, had they been worn by any ordinary girl, would have undoubtedly lent her the air of a ‘landmine girl’ – volatile and unpredictable. Yet, Talia clearly fell outside the bounds of ‘ordinary’.

She was neither a sullen ‘landmine girl’ nor an irritating delinquent. Instead, Talia exuded an aura of passionate wildness that permeated her very being.

“What’s up?”

As if sensing Saranya’s scrutiny, Talia suddenly lifted her head. Her large, amber eyes gleamed with astonishing brightness, and her full lips curved upwards to reveal a set of perfectly white, even teeth. The overall impression brought to mind a large, predatory leopard cat.

“You three don’t look like seasoned seafarers to me, especially this one here, so soft-skinned, quite precious indeed, aren’t you…?”

Talia made to reach out and poke Kaelan, but Saranya instantly lowered her arm, swatting the other woman’s hand away with a sharp *smack*.

The female sailor rubbed her wrist, then tucked her arm against her chest. She merely grinned at Saranya, displaying not a hint of displeasure.

“My apologies, my apologies…”

Saranya was prepared to offer a polite retort, but Talia’s gaze flickered to Kaelan, and her subsequent words caused Saranya’s brow to furrow deeply once more.

“So she’s your girlfriend, then?”