After gathering the full crew under the shadow of the cliffs, Kael delivered the news: the Dawn Wind needed structural work, and they would have to wait before returning to open sea. The mood was low until one of the sailors spoke up.
"Let's use the money we've been saving for the new life," he proposed eagerly. "Not just to repair the hull, but to arm her properly. If we fill the Dawn Wind with ballistae, those monsters won't get close."
Several sailors nodded, taken with the idea. Kael, however, looked at them as if they'd lost their minds.
"Are you all idiots? If we buy too many ballistae, they'll be useless junk by the time we reach the new place and start over."
"No, Captain," another insisted. "We'd rather use them and sell the creatures after we've taken them down. I'm certain they'd fetch a good price in the right market."
Kael stayed quiet for a moment, weighing the risk.
"Fine — if that's what you all want. It's everyone's money. We'll do it. Besides, it's better to arrive in one piece."
Days later, Kael made his way to a section of the port hidden behind old salt warehouses. He was accompanied by the old sailor and a couple of trusted men. Their destination was a shop specializing in siege equipment and naval defense. While the old sailor debated with the shopkeeper over which models would best pierce the natural armor of the sea monsters, the sailors pulled Kael aside.
"Captain, can we also commission some of the larger ballistae? The kind mounted along the sides of the Dawn Wind."
Kael consulted the old sailor with a glance. Receiving an expert nod, he made his decision.
"That's the right move. Commission ten of them — five to a side — plus the smaller hand ballistae."
While they noted down the order, a broad-shouldered man with graphite-stained hands stepped out from the back of the workshop. When he saw Kael, he stopped, and a shrewd smile spread across his face.
"I was wondering what all the noise was about — all these men crowding a shop like this, at this time of year," said the man, crossing his arms. "If it isn't the most well-known Mercenary Pirate in the entire city. Long time, Kael."
"Hello. How are you?" Kael answered carefully. "I didn't know you owned places like this."
The man — Soren Kalt — leaned against the counter with easy familiarity.
"You know I deal in more than weapons — I've got equipment for ships too, stores in several cities. Looks like you're going hunting for those sea monsters?"
"Something like that," Kael said, keeping his answer short.
"There were rumors they were finally getting serious about your capture, but here you are, playing fisherman with dangerous prey." Soren let out a laugh. "You really are impossible to predict."
"It helps when people don't know what to expect from me."
"And what do you plan to do after?" Soren continued, lowering his voice. "Attack the king's ships again and hand the money to the poor?" He laughed.
Kael looked away, a flash of bitterness in his eyes.
"I'm not some storybook thief with a heart of gold. The rumors about me are getting out of hand. I only did it because the man running that ship was corrupt."
"Sure, but taking down a sitting governor — even a corrupt one — that goes directly against the king."
"I don't care anymore," Kael said flatly. "That king knew the man was corrupt, knew he was taxing people into the ground just to keep himself comfortable — and didn't do a thing about it, as long as his own cut arrived on time."
"So the rumors that you went from mercenary to pirate are true."
"Well... I've had a lot of jobs in my life. Before anyone called me a mercenary, I was a successful merchant. The fact that my military strength grew enough that people started using a different word for it — that's a different story."
Soren sighed, studying Kael's men.
"But a lot of your men have died fighting the king's forces. I figured even you wouldn't have the nerve to just carry on as if nothing happened — playing deep-sea fisherman."
"These things happen," Kael said coldly. "And believe me when I say I don't intend to get caught."
"But is it true what people are saying? That the king is on his last legs?"
"The king is getting old, but I don't think he's dying anytime soon. Though it seems there are a lot of things he's stopped caring about."
"Well, old friend," Soren concluded, "the order will take some time. And fitting everything to the Dawn Wind will take more. You'll need to stay well hidden while we get it done."
"Agreed."
Several weeks of tense calm passed. One afternoon, Kael went out with a few sailors to a busy market to pick up some hand ballistae for testing. As they moved through the crowd, Kael felt the prickling at the back of his neck that only experience gives: someone was following them.
He tried to steer his men into a narrow alley to set an ambush, but before he could act, he noticed something astonishing: his quivers were empty. In the blink of an eye, someone had stripped the bolts from him without him noticing.
In that same instant, a quick hand shot out and tried to grab the ballista at his hip. Kael reacted on pure warrior instinct. He caught the thief before the boy could slip away into the shadows.
When he grabbed hold of him, something made Kael stop before striking. The boy was no ordinary thief — he showed no fear, and his gaze was defiant, almost arrogant. There was something about his face that felt unsettlingly familiar.
"Hey, boy... why did you let yourself get caught?" Kael asked, tightening his grip.
"My plan was never simply to rob you," the boy answered in a clear voice. "I wanted to show you what we're capable of."
Kael narrowed his eyes and let out a short laugh.
"I see. So you and your friends wanted to put me to the test."
"Yes," the boy said with pride. "I wanted to prove how good we are — because we want to join you."
Kael released him slowly, scanning the alley. He knew the boy wasn't alone.
"Do you know who I am?"
"Of course. You're the friend of the old governor — the one who fought alongside him as a mercenary in some very difficult times."
Kael said nothing. The hand that had held the boy loosened without him realizing it, and his gaze drifted somewhere beyond the alley — as if the boy's words had opened a door that had been locked for years.
"Your story sounds a little strange. Where do you know me from?"
The boy glanced at the sailors surrounding Kael.
"Could we talk somewhere more appropriate?"