TLSP 01

Chapter 01

The Esteya-Laurence Empire had no mercy for pirates.

It was something Astrid had often heard her father’s friends say whenever they drank.

Because of that, Astrid could easily list at least five famous pirates who had ended up as dew beneath the executioner’s blade.

Which meant that the fact her own head was still neatly attached to her shoulders—despite being caught while playing pirate herself—was an incredible blessing.

“Oh! Listen to my tale, my friend,

A story that begins upon the sea and ends upon the sea…

Oh! This tale is like a silver coin,

Flipped from fingertips, rolling and rolling and rolling on…”

Astrid softly sang under her breath. A sea shanty inside a carriage was quite an odd combination.

Though, compared to that, the lavishly decorated carriage interior and Astrid’s appearance matched even less.

Her red hair was tangled into a wild mess, and her clothes had stiffened with salt and wrinkled terribly.

Still, her singing voice remained beautiful…

Yet like the tightly clasped hands in her lap, her voice trembled slightly.

Then—

Clatter!

The carriage jolted violently.

At the same time, the song cut off. The trembling that had started in her hands had already spread through her entire body.

“…”

Wrapping her arms around herself, Astrid took a deep breath. After repeating it five or six times and calming the shaking somewhat, she instinctively touched near her collarbone.

The place where her father’s amethyst necklace—her lucky charm—used to hang.

“Sasha! Think for yourself. As long as you think and judge for yourself, no one will ever be able to harm you carelessly.”

And according to the teachings of her father, the man who had become Astrid’s guiding star, this was exactly the kind of moment when she couldn’t afford to sit frozen in fear.

First, she needed to think through how she had ended up in this situation.

Right before getting into the carriage, Astrid had been standing at the boundary between freshwater and seawater.

In other words…

An execution ground where pirates were killed.

“…Alright. This isn’t the worst outcome. At least I’m not about to die immediately. Though the emperor himself might be furious with me.”

At that point, Astrid still didn’t know.

That in just a few hours, a mere pirate like herself would become “Lady del Ponto,” daughter of a war hero.

And that it would take a very long time before she could return to the sea that had always been her home.

Florian was not in a particularly good mood.

Though, to be fair, it wasn’t as if he had many good days to begin with.

Standing on the deck, he could feel the employees sneaking glances at him while pretending to stay busy with their work.

“…Sigh.”

The sea breeze was salty and sticky. Even though it was only April, the sun of Esteya burned passionately.

And Florian, for his part, hated passionate things.

Of course, if he stayed inside the luxurious guest cabin, he could avoid the sun, the wind, and the stares altogether. Upon hearing that the merchant lord’s son would be boarding, the crew had even prepared comfortable chairs and rare books obtained through trade—things Florian would supposedly enjoy.

And yet, the reason he stubbornly remained on deck was simple.

“…Ugh!”

Florian clung to the railing and leaned over the side of the ship.

Several dry heaves escaped him, but nothing improved.

Honestly, it might have been better if he could just vomit properly.

As far back as he could remember, Florian had always suffered horribly from seasickness.

Tears gathered on his delicate golden lashes. It was merely a physical reaction, but combined with his famously beautiful appearance, he looked like a melancholic beauty burdened with a tragic story.

Despite the fact he was only retching from seasickness.

“I want to quit…”

His father, Mateo Ortiz, was not a man who knew how to go easy on his son.

A man who forced his son onto ships despite knowing how severe his seasickness was—that alone said enough.

Before this voyage, Florian had argued that the person in charge didn’t necessarily need to board the ship personally.

You trust capable subordinates.

You gather many trustworthy people, place them where their abilities shine best, and supervise them accordingly. If you do that properly, there’s no need for the superior to oversee every little detail personally.

He hadn’t made the idea up. Plenty of major merchant companies and guilds operated exactly this way.

Of course, Florian couldn’t deny that his introverted personality and astonishingly weak stamina—yes, that was sarcasm—had influenced his opinion somewhat.

But his father was the sort of man who insisted on sticking his face into every decision and every process.

And by his father’s standards, Florian himself was simply one of those faces.

“Please just let me ride in a cargo carriage instead. Getting on a ship is truly…”

“The more you ride, the more you’ll get used to it. Get aboard, Florian.”

He had begged.

But as always, whenever their opinions clashed, Florian’s arguments were never accepted.

With mournful eyes, Florian stared at the horizon. One crewman had told him that focusing on the distant horizon and breathing deeply helped lessen seasickness, since watching nearby waves only made the nausea worse.

Jagged reefs were beginning to appear in the distance, and judging by the increasingly frantic movements and shouted exchanges among the crew behind him, they were nearing Rosada Harbor, even if it wasn’t visible yet.

Good news for a seasick beauty.

Rouge Rosada.

A city named after the rosy sunset reflected over the sea when viewed from the harbor.

But Florian had never once thought the sunset looked pink.

How could a sunset be pink? It was red.

Like that person’s hair over there…

A person?

Florian rubbed his eyes.

Though distant, it was unmistakably a human being.

Flustered, he hurriedly raised the small telescope hanging from his belt.

A soaking wet woman clung desperately to a wooden plank, waving one hand wildly in the air.

No matter how hot the sun was, April was still April.

The seawater would be cold, and with her entire body drenched, hypothermia could threaten her life quickly.

No matter what superstitions existed about women bringing bad luck aboard ships, surely no one would ignore a drowning person.

Florian quickly grabbed a passing crewman by the arm.

“There’s someone in the water! Prepare a rescue!”

Startled, the man looked where Florian pointed, then immediately nodded and ran toward the others.

Already busy preparing for docking, the crew suddenly moved even faster.

Florian stepped back against the hull so he wouldn’t get in their way.

“Distressed survivor spotted ahead! Prepare for rescue!”

“Unfurl the sails fully! Increase speed!”

“Get the ropes ready!”

The half-folded sails were spread wide, and the favorable wind smoothly accelerated the ship.

Several crewmen tied small anchors to the ends of ropes so the woman could support herself, threading the ropes through pulleys.

Now close enough to shout across the water, Florian leaned over the railing and called out to her.

“Just hold on a little longer! We’re lowering a rope!”

Using all her remaining strength, the woman shouted back, “Thank you!”

Since passing her would make the rescue difficult, the stronger crewmen grabbed the sail ropes again and hauled with all their might to slow the ship.

Florian wanted to help somehow, but when he approached them, one crewman laughed and said, “We’re not so weak that we need the young master’s arms for this!”

So he awkwardly retreated, rubbing his thin arm.

Soon, the ship drew alongside the survivor.

Carefully, so she wouldn’t be injured, the crew lowered the small anchor tied to the rope.

The woman abandoned the wooden plank and slowly swam toward it. Relief crossed her face as she grabbed the rope and firmly planted both feet on the anchor.

“Pull her up!”

After several rhythmic chants and coordinated tugs on the rope, two burly crewmen grabbed the drenched woman by the arms and hauled her over the railing.

Her striking red curls stood out immediately.

In fact, that very hair might have saved her life—easy to spot against the endless blue sea.

Though somewhat pale, the woman still seemed to have strength left, quickly shrugging off assistance and standing on her own.

Florian quietly observed her from among the others.

Blue eyes. Freckles. A healthy-looking face that would have seemed lively if not for the pallor.

While thanking everyone surrounding her one by one, she also seemed busy wringing seawater from her hair and clothes.

Even if they had rescued her from the sea, remaining in wet clothes wasn’t good for her.

It would be nice if she had something dry to change into.

Florian thought of the spare dress shirts and storm coat packed in his luggage.

They were men’s clothes, but surely better than soaked garments.

Just as he turned toward the cabin to retrieve them, a crewman stopped him.

“Young master! That woman says she wants to thank the person in charge personally.”

“Personally?”

Florian turned back toward her.

Someone had already brought her a blanket, which she now wore draped over her shoulders like a cloak.

When their eyes met, the woman smiled slightly.

Her vivid red hair and brilliant blue eyes were both striking enough to dominate her appearance individually, yet somehow they balanced together beautifully.

In other words, objectively speaking, she wasn’t ugly.

“So you’re the owner of this ship? Thank you so much for finding and rescuing me.”

Her voice was rare and lovely, like pearls rolling across glass.

“It was nothing.”

As he answered, the woman extended her right hand.

For a moment, Florian wondered whether she was asking for a handshake or inviting him to kiss the back of her hand.

At the very least, he couldn’t just ignore the offered hand, so he decided to gauge her reaction first and reached out.

No—

Had the woman grabbed his hand instead?

It happened in an instant.

With shocking strength that seemed impossible for someone of her build, she yanked Florian violently toward her.

Before he could react, Florian found himself trapped against her chest, his neck locked beneath her left arm.

Clang!

Clang?

That metallic sound was deeply ominous.

Barely able to breathe, Florian darted his eyes downward toward his neck.

A rusty dagger—but with a perfectly sharp blade—pressed against him.

The woman shouted in a bright, ringing voice full of excitement.

“This is the Ortiz Merchant Company, right?! Your precious young master’s life is in my hands now! Hand over everything you’ve got!”