Once the schooner reached the fjord, Captain Grielle let the boatswain, a Stalvart sailor, take the helm. She watched the Prince stand idly on the deck, looking out of place in a stiff black doublet and a red cloak fastened decoratively at his shoulder. He failed miserably at fitting in, a skill she and her crew had perfected for passing through cities unseen. There was a high likelihood he would be a liability. They normally didn't take guests along on jobs, but his father had paid double their usual fee. Something in her gut told her that this quest wasn't going to go according to plan. Her experience told her to use caution.

This didn't feel like caution.

Now that the crew had settled into their positions, Grielle assembled the Liberators and Prince Benedikt at the bow of the ship. She hooked her arm through one of the shrouds for balance. "I suppose I should make introductions."

She nodded at Benedikt and gestured to the two tallest, and largest, of the group. "This here is Berne and beside him is Moose. They are my muscle, you could say. Moose also handles the cooking. To your right is Ludvig, my marksman."

Ludvig shook Benedikt's hand vigorously. The prince smiled politely and Grielle was glad to see him relax, if only slightly — people made mistakes when they were on edge.

"To your left is Reyn — excellent with traps and snares," she continued.

Reyn acknowledged Benedikt by jutting her chin up at him. It was as friendly a gesture as he would get from her.

"And the little one is our practitioner of magics and medicines and my half-brother, Yorick."

Yorick gave Benedikt a half-hearted smile, but then almost immediately began to shift himself away. He rubbed his freckled nose, something he only did when he was nervous. She resisted the urge to reach out and ruffle his raven-black hair.

Maybe it wasn't just Benedikt on edge.

"We have a few rules," she said. "We have a strict policy against killing unless the safety of the crew is on the line. Second, we don't steal what hasn't already been stolen so we expect honesty and transparency from all clients. Third, the whole team must agree to a job before we take it."

It had taken some convincing to get the others to agree to take this job. Before they could say anything to set off the delicate balance with their new companion, Grielle dismissed the Liberators and turned to Benedikt. "Well, there you have it. I'll show you to your cabin so you can get settled."

Captain Grielle led the prince back to the stern of the ship. The scream of a falcon echoing off the stone walls of the fjords reached Grielle's ears and her pulse quickened. She heard the snapping of its wings on the breeze and pulled a thick leather glove from her belt and slipped it onto her left hand. She placed her right hand on Benedikt's chest, stopping him where they stood.

With arm outstretched, she whistled through her teeth and the creature hovering above them tucked its wings to its body and plummeted towards the deck. It stretched its wings again and landed silently on Grielle's gloved fist. Her arm sunk with the weight of the falcon and she stroked the nape of his neck.

He was agitated, alert.

"This is Kai." She let the creature get a look at the stunned prince.

"He's magnificent," Benedikt replied.

It was the usual response to an eyeful of Kai's hooked, yellow beak and curved black talons. He screeched in reply.

Grielle eyed Benedikt hesitantly. "He may take a while to warm up to you." He would the minute she did. Her familiar trusted her implicitly in such matters. "Follow me," she commanded before turning and continuing in their initial direction.

They reached the stern and Grielle handed Benedikt a small brass key. There was a door that led to the captain's rooms below the quarterdeck. Grielle stuck her own key in the door. She turned the lock and Kai flew from her arm and took a perch on the foremast.

"These are your quarters, Your Highness." She pointed to the door.

Benedikt opened his door to reveal a moderately sized stateroom.

"I'd get some sleep if I were you. Kai is nervous, which usually means trouble," Grielle said.

The prince nodded, strands of dark hair falling to his forehead. "No one would dare attack a Stalvart vessel in the fjords." The words were confident, but he didn't look it.

Grielle wondered what made him so unsteady. She had been made aware of the nature of his quest — and the number of times he'd failed. Could it be just that? "I know," she said, "but we will be in the open ocean by dawn, and tomorrow we will need to brief you on how my company and I work."

Benedikt nodded again before disappearing into his quarters. Grielle followed suit and headed to find her own in the crew's quarters below deck. She claimed a hammock for herself and settled in. Over the groans of the rudder, she could hear the boatswain calling out familiar orders. She unfastened her vest and tossed it onto the trunk beneath her hammock. Her thoughts drifted to the prince in the room above her. His morose little pout of a mouth. His sad, dark eyes. Most princes she'd come across were of a different breed — afraid to leave their castles, get their hands dirty. He may have looked out of place, but fourteen attempts at True Love's Kiss took dedication. She could at least give him that.

She turned to face the wall and let the gentle sway put Benedikt's dilemma out of her mind. Before she knew it, the gentle creaking of wood and the slight bobbing had rocked her into an uneasy slumber.

~

Benedikt woke with a start as his body fell from the low bed.

He groaned as he crawled back onto the straw mattress. The ship pitched violently, causing him to tumble from the threadbare bed once again.

That was it. He was ready to get off the boat.

It was still dark out, but the ship seemed to have reached the ocean. He really didn't feel like getting tossed from his bed again, so he decided to get an early start. Ditching the stiff satin doublet, he threw a loose white shirt over his bare shoulders and trousers instead. He could already smell the warm and brackish sea air that seeped into his stateroom. It had only been a day but he already felt so far from home. The unfamiliar smells and sounds awakened something in him that very few people got the chance to see. His pulse quickened at the thought of new cities and new horizons. Fourteen quests seemed a great many, but despite his failures, the realm of Floryndal still had some secrets for him to discover.

On deck, all seemed relatively still, except for the rhythmic sway of the ocean. Benedict turned to the east and saw the jagged coast of his kingdom on the dark horizon. After even his brief stay at home, he felt remarkably underdressed without any finery. Though he admittedly felt better without it. He felt free as the wind cut through the loose shirt and pressed it to his skin.

He hopped onto the gunwale and climbed up the shroud. Above the deck, he got a better view of the crew. For a span of time, he watched. With each call the boatswain gave, the crewmembers took a designated place on one of the lines. Sometimes they tightened the lines, other times they put slack into them. Benedikt took note of each command and their resulting actions. He'd never learned to sail; his quest for True Love had kept him mostly on solid ground. When he had sailed, it had been on much larger ships. A small vessel like a schooner required everyone they could fit on board to lend a hand.

He had felt so lost when Captain Grielle had asked him to help. Benedikt didn't want to feel that way again.

The sun rose and cast an orange hue over the eastern sky. He felt more comfortable with his knowledge of the commands, and thus worked up the courage to try one of the positions himself, or at least get a closer look.

Benedikt climbed down from the shroud.

"You won't learn much by watching, Your Highness," Ludvig said from where he leaned on the Bulwark.

How long had he been there?

"Just Benedikt is fine," he replied, rubbing his stiff neck. The lumpy straw mattress had done a number on his spine. A hammock in the crew's quarters might have been better. Or the floor.

Ludvig seemed to relax a bit with all the formalities aside. "Here." He moved to let Benedikt take his spot on the line. "I'll tell you what to do the next time the boatswain gives orders."

The sail above their heads began to snap and ripple with the wind. Benedikt looked up to see Kai perched atop the mast, observing them, his head cocked to the side. The falcon let out a screech. Benedikt wasn't sure what he'd done to earn his distrust, so he only glared back in reply. Kai emitted another short screech before taking off to find another perch.

"Eyes in the boat! Loose main sheets and hold the lines," the boatswain yelled.

"He's probably turning out of the headwind," Ludvig said as he loosed the line from the cleat and handed it to Benedikt. "Let that out slowly but keep it wrapped twice around the belaying pin so you don't lose it when we catch the wind."

Benedikt grasped the rope and waited as the ship tilted to the left and turned out of the wind. The breeze caught the wide sail before him and the line bit into his palms as it passed through his hands. They kept the sail loose until the ship found its new bearing.

"Make taut the main sheets!" the boatswain called out.

Ludvig lent a hand at this point. Together they pulled their line in until the sail was taut and secured it to the bulwark once more. A burning made Benedikt examine his hands. He watched red welts form on his palms, which smarted painfully.

"Those'll be gone in a day or so," Ludvig consoled him. "But you did well."

The welts reminded Benedikt of the days when he had first learned to wield a sword. The hours of training had left white hot blisters on his hands from swinging the heavy blade. His mother had placed and replaced cool cloths on his hands herself after particularly grueling exercises. He thought of the same sword he had stowed in his quarters. Under his father's guidance, that sword had eventually become an integral part of his body, a living and feeling extension of his own flesh.

"Thanks," Benedikt replied, his thoughts turning back to his new comrades. Their captain specifically. "So how did Grielle become your captain? I mean, she seems awfully young to lead a band of mercenaries."

"And you seem awful short to be a knight-in-shining-armor," said a voice from behind him.

Benedikt turned to see Grielle standing with her arms folded. She gave him a stern glare that made his face burn hotter than his palms.

"I didn't mean to offend you, I just—" Benedikt fumbled for words, but Grielle brushed past him and continued onward to relieve the boatswain of his post. Benedikt tried not to look back at Ludvig, who unsuccessfully stifled his laughter. Benedikt hated that his new captain made him feel out of sorts, like a knight on his first quest. Perhaps it was her coldness? He had no idea why, but he was almost certain he'd just seen contempt in her blue eyes.

"Don't you worry. She doesn't trust new faces is all. And to answer your question, it's a family business."

There was probably more to it than just that, but Benedikt didn't want to push.

"And we're not mercenaries," Ludvig said.

"So what are you, then?"

"We find lost things and return them to their rightful owners."

"That's it?" Benedikt said with a laugh.

"Try losing something you love. You'd be surprised what you'd do to get it, get them back."

Ludvig smiled and left Benedikt to man the post on his own.

~

On the upper deck, Ludvig joined Grielle at the helm. "You can give him a break, you know." He took a seat beside her.

She looked up from the map balanced on her legs. "No one gets a break. You know that."

Ludvig chuckled, a warm sound that softened her and took some of the edge away. "You know what I mean. We have a long journey ahead of us. I'm not saying you have to be best friends, but I know if you don't welcome him just a little, the others sure won't."

Grielle squeezed her arms around her waist as she felt the sinking feeling grow. "I don't know. Something in my gut tells me not to trust him."

"Is it your gut or your fears?"

Grielle wrinkled her nose at the poignant remark. "You go right for the throat, don't you."

"I'm your second in command, it's my job."

Grielle let a smile crack on her lips.

"This journey weighs hard on him. I see it in his eyes. He has to trust us just as much as we must trust him," Ludvig said.

"I see what you mean, but that still doesn't mean I can ignore my gut."

"I'm not asking you to be careless. I just don't want you to forget that we've all been hurt before."

"I know," Grielle said.

"Know he isn't Henrik?"

The name sent a pang of nausea through her stomach. Her head felt suddenly light and her lungs starved for air as if a sharp wind had taken her breath. Grielle didn't turn back to Ludvig, but she felt him remove himself from her side. It was a question he didn't expect her to answer — he just knew exactly what to say that she didn't want to hear.

She watched Benedikt's dark hair flop in the breeze as he pulled in lines with the other crewmembers. The similarity in his appearance to Henrik hadn't escaped everyone's notice. She averted her gaze when Benedikt's dark eyes met hers. Memories of a familiar face ghosted in her mind.

~

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