Saltbeard stord away from the center of the hall, his boots striking the stone floor with the force of his simring rage. His face was a mask of fury, his nostrils flaring as his eyes burned holes into Wavecleaver's smug grin.
Then he stopped.
Halfway to his chair, Saltbeard turned slowly, his massive fra coiled with tension. His fingers flexed, as if testing their grip, and his shoulders hunched forward ever so slightly. For a fleeting mont, it was clear to all that he was weighing the thought of lunging at Wavecleaver, and perhapse pop his eyes using his thumbs,it wasn't like he hadn't done so already.
The hall held its breath, a collective pause as every eye locked on Saltbeard.
"Lord Saltbeard!" The sharp voice of the old moderator rang out, cutting through the tension like a blade. The sound of the staff striking the ground followed; its echo a warning in the heavy silence. "Return to your seat. Now."
Saltbeard's glare flicked to the moderator, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack bone. After a long, simring mont, he exhaled sharply through his nose and turned back toward his seat. The crowd watched him go, his every step a testant to the battle raging within, the daggers in his eyes now firmly aid at the floor.
With a deep sigh, the golden boy rose from his seat and with a smile that hid the fear that he just felt at Saltbeard temporary stop, he strode to the center of the hall .His golden cloak trailed behind him like the sunlight he clearly believed himself to embody. His chin was high, his grin sharp and polished. He waited for the murmurs to quiet before spreading his arms wide, addressing the crowd as though speaking to subjects rather than equals.
"Brothers of the sea!" he began, his voice rich and smooth, strong enought to carry through the hall. "Free n, lords, captains of legend—you, who embody the very spirit of liberty and power! Today, you face a choice, and I am here to make that choice as clear as the sunrise on a calm sea."
He paused, letting the anticipation build as he turned, his gaze sweeping over the gathered n.
"I will not prattle on about honor or legacy, for words do not fill our bellies or line our coffers. No. I offer you sothing far more real, far more imdiate—prosperity beyond anything you've dread." He gestured with an open palm, as if to share this prosperity with the room.
"I swear to you now: should you choose as your High Captain, I will renounce my share of the spoils entirely. Every coin, every slave, every weapon will go to you, my brothers. But that is not all!" His grin widened, the confidence in his tone sharpening into arrogance.
"I will double the spoils for each and every one of you. Yes, you heard correctly! Whatever fortune you've claid after the battle , I will see it doubled. I will ensure we return from this campaign wealthier than you could possibly imagine!"
The crowd erupted in murmurs, so intrigued, others skeptical. Wavecleaver, unfazed, spread his arms wider, his voice rising above the din.
"This is not a promise—it is my guarantee. I ask for your votes as the leader who will transform your fortunes. Cast your vote for , and together, we will redefine what it ans to be a free man, while having your pockets filled with my coins!Why settle for glory or silver and gold when you could have both?"
Just as he had done to Saltbeard, so Saltbeard did to him. A sharp, disdainful laugh burst from him as Wavecleaver finished his speech and stepped back, basking in his self-proclaid triumph.
"A lot of words for a pup still wet behind the ears. Tell , boy, do you even know what war slls like? Or are you planning to buy your way through battle with that fat purse of yours?"
The room chuckled, emboldened by SaltBeard's cutting tone, the young man clearly did not like being from the other side. The older man rose to his feet slowly,he pointed a thick, calloused finger at Wavecleaver, the mocking grin now lying instead on his face.
"You talk about wealth, about doubling spoils like it's coin that wins battles. But let ask you, when was the last ti you held a blade in your hand that wasn't polished for show? When have you ever stood on a blood-soaked deck, the screams of n in your ears, and held your ground like a real warrior?Did you even do it at any point in your life?"
Wavecleaver's smug grin faltered for a mont, but he quickly masked it, opening his mouth to respond. SaltBeard cut him off with a dismissive wave.
"Oh, spare us, boy. We all know the only thing you've ever fought for is the best seat at a banquet table. The only thing sharp about you is your tongue, and even that's as brittle as a snapped mast."
The laughter in the hall grew louder, so clapping and stomping in approval. SaltBeard wasn't done.
"You prance around here, promising gold and riches like a rchant hawking trinkets at a dockside market. But we're not here to line our pockets, lad. We're here to reclaim our honor, to show the Empire and anyone else who dares cross us what it ans to be free n. You don't lead warriors with bribes; you lead them with courage and steel."
SaltBeard leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he delivered the final blow.
"So, tell , boy, if the only thing you've got going for you is the purse behind you, why don't you just sit down and let the real n handle this?"
The hall erupted into cheers and jeers, the air thick with tension and excitent. Wavecleaver's face flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassnt, but he held his ground, though the fire in his earlier speech had noticeably dimd.
Not it was Blake that stepped onto the stage with a calm, asured stride, the murmur of the crowd softening as they leaned in to hear the final contender. His face bore a faint smile, though his eyes carried the sharp glint that he always add, as if the entire world was just a joke made for him.
"My lords, captains, free n," he began, his voice steady and firm. "I will begin by saying that Lord SaltBeard gave a fine speech. He is, without question, a hardened warrior and a man of great renown."
At this, SaltBeard raised an eyebrow, his expression hovering between suspicion and curiosity, one would usually not comnd their opponent. Blake turned toward him slightly, his tone genuine.
"You've fought and bled for the free n, SaltBeard, and your reputation as a leader of warriors is well-earned. You've reminded us of the stakes we face—that this is not a battle for gold, but for the preservation of our way of life. And on that, we are in complete agreent."
There was a ripple of assent from the crowd, and Blake let the mont breathe before stepping forward, his voice growing sharper.
"But I must ask, my good lord—where were you when the free n were under the heel of the Rolians? Where was your steel then? Your voice of defiance?"
SaltBeard stiffened in his seat, his face hardening. Blake extended his arms , his expression open yet cutting.
"I know where I was . Raiding , and risking neck onto Rolian sea and ships, and returning to the Call to present my case. Nearly a year ago, I stood in front of you to stake a claim knowing that failure could an death,as a criminal mind you "
He straightened, looking out over the gathered lords and captains.
"However I will not fall back on past deeds, for I have already been rewarded for them. I was given the honor of leading the conquest of Harmway with only a few hundred n. Together, we broke the Rolian grip and allowed the free n to rise again."
He let his gaze sweep across the crowd, his voice taking on a softer but resolute tone, reminding them that it was thanks to him , that they were now free to sail in these seas.
"Yet, I am not here to invoke the past. What is done is done, and it has earned a place among you. But this fight, this call, is not about the past. It is about the future."
Blake turned sharply toward WaveCleaver, his expression a mix of scorn and pity. His voice cut through the tense air like a blade.
"And you, WaveCleaver," he began, letting the weight of his words fall slowly. "Right now, what our fleet needs is a warrior—soone forged by fire and tempered by the fight. Not a rich youngster whose only quality is how deep his pockets are and how quickly the coin slips through his fingers."
There was a ripple of laughter from the crowd, mingled with murmurs of agreent. WaveCleaver stiffened in his seat, his arrogance giving way to visible irritation. Blake didn't wait for a response. He turned back to the gathered captains and lords, his voice rising with conviction.
"Is that what you want?" he shouted, his voice carrying over the crowd. "To sell your integrity for coin like common whores? If that's the case, then by all ans, vote for the youngest and see how far his gold takes you before the waves swallow it all. But if you are true n—n of the sea, n of pride—then you'll vote for a true warrior to lead you!"
The crowd erupted, so cheering, so shouting in agreent, others still murmuring their thoughts. Blake raised a hand, silencing them.
"And let be clear," he continued, his tone steady but fierce, "even if SaltBeard wins today, I will be proud to sail behind him. For he is a brave man, and in his hands, the fleet will fight with honor. But know this—what he fights for and what I fight for are not the sa."
Blake began to pace slowly
"He will fight for glory—his glory, your glory, the glory of all our people. And there's honor in that. But I will fight for one thing and one thing only: victory."
He stopped and pointed toward the crowd, his voice rising to a roar.
"Defeat ans going back to how we lived before last year's Call, before I stood before you to be judged—whether for praise or criticism. Before we tasted what it ant to break free. If you choose , I will deliver victory—not for my glory, but because I know what it ans to lose. And I will not let that happen. No matter the cost.No matter the jeer that I will receive afterward.
For at the end of the day , only he who wins is rembered"
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