IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS...
The first signs of the threat that is about to strike the Kingdom of Heath Hill begin to seriously worry Queen Alexandra, while the first troops of the Night Lord begin to appear in the South, in the depths of the Tharsis forest.
Alexandra, however, is unaware that a further threat is about to fall on her Kingdom from the West. Troygrove, the ancient rival city believed to have long been pacified, is preparing for a surprise attack plotted by Artemis, the first of the Sovereigns of Mur to have fallen under the evil influence of the Night Lord.
And so, while General Bardas is given the order to prepare the ground troops, Admiral Nyphoros is given the command to prepare the fleet. Heath Hill, a city in the hinterland, is evidently not the only target in the conquest plans of Artemis and her Dark Lord...
https://www.literotica.com/s/daugther-of-the-sun-ch-09
***
The wooden gangway was lowered from the edge of the ship, allowing to Nyphoros and to few of the men of his crew to descend to the stone pier below.
The scorching sun of the mid afternoon was hammering heavily from the cloudless sky above. With a snort, the old Admiral of the Royal Fleet of Troygrove passed a napkin over his bald head to wipe off the drops of sweat which had cumulated over his skin, as he looked around at that inhospitable landscape.
In a distant past, there may have been once a thick coral reef all around the island that gave it its name but, even if that had been the case, nothing of it remained today. Coral Cove was mostly an arid island, just a huge piece of barren rock emerging from the cold ocean water.
A few trees and shrubs, mostly dried by the sun, climbed around the large central hill, on top of which an old sandstone castle, its walls and towers half-ruined by the passing of the centuries, dominated the view.
The island lay amidst the waters several miles to the west of Troygrove, and it was actually the last piece of land that a ship sailing from the continent of Mur in the direction of the sunset could have encountered, before finally entering into the open vastness of the Ocean.
Few ship captains, however, dared to approach that place on their own initiative. Thus it was formally included within the dominion of Troygrove, the island was actually a no man's land and, as a matter of fact, it had been elected since at least two centuries as a refuge by pirates, slave traders and various other kind of criminals, who had used it as an hidden, operative base from where to conduct their dirty dealings.
Getting too close to those shores could almost certainly meant losing the ship, the freedom and in some cases even the life. Nyphoros himself had been forced to display a special identification banner on the top of the ship's mast while approaching, to avoid the risk being immediately attacked in the moment in which his ship would have been spotted by the island's inhabitants.
The Admiral descended to the pier, observing with poorly concealed disgust the small town that stretched at the foot of the hill, along the bay, made up mostly of shacks and semi-ruined and dilapidated houses, the temporary shelters of all the scum that infested the island.
Followed by his men, he started to walk along the quay, looking at the great number of docked ships, of various sizes and all with exotic and threatening names painted on the bows, all of them belonging to buccaneers, pirates, slavers and smugglers.
Their presence had very often represented a blight for the commerces of Troygrove. But, when needed, such a scum could also have proved to be extremely useful. More than once in the past, Nyphoros had engaged in shady dealings with the inhabitants of Coral Cove. Sometimes, he did so on behalf of the Crown; much more often, for some of his own exquisite, illicit, personal interests.
He grinned with satisfaction when he spotted what he was hoping to find. A long ship with a fast appearance and a low deck, whose bulwarks were completely lacquered in black. The figurehead was highly emblematic; it depicted a woman with the clear features of an inhabitant of the Isle of the Lotus, naked and chained by her wrists and ankles to the bow, her lips open in a silent cry of despair.
A gold-painted inscription stood out on the ship's side near the bow, revealing its name: 'The Brothel of Hadun'.
The ship was completely silent and devoid of any sign of life; the gangplank was raised, and apparently no one was standing on deck at the moment. Bringing his fingers to his mouth, Nyphoros tried to whistle a call, hoping to attract the attention of anyone who could have been onboard.
"Admiral Nyphoros!" a thundering voice called for him almost in response, yet not from the direction he was expecting.
Looking to his left, Nyphoros spotted a small group of disreputable-looking men, rough, dirty and half-naked. At their head was a tall, extremely obese man with thick hair and a long beard, both black like the clothes and the high, poloshed boots he was wearing. A large gold earring, a circular ring almost as wide as a bracelet, hung from his right earlobe.
Nyphoros knew the man very well. During his life he had both fought the fiercest battles against him and made the most lucrative business deals with him. He was the quintessence of all the scum that infested the island, the very embodiment of all the criminal activities that took place here.
"What an incredible, unexpected pleasure to see you again in Coral Cove," the man said with exaggerated enthusiasm, approaching the Admiral while showing a smile in which several teeth were missing. "Your appearance on our shores is usually bearer of good news."
"Khadmos," he replied, greeting the man and shaking his enormous hand, thus without much enthusiasm. "Also this time, I bring good news for you, you old scum; opportunity for loot and profit, as well as the one to properly serve Her Majesty for once."
"That sounds more than excellent," replied that black-bearded mound of fat, rubbing his hands adorned with an impressive quantity of rings with a flash of greed in his eyes. "And we are always happy to be able to prove ourselves as faithful subjects of Her Majesty. Isn't that true, guys?"
A roar of raucous laughter arose from that group of grim individuals, and Nyphoros noticed more than one of them vulgarly commenting on how they would have preferred to service their Queen, placing a hand on their crotches and squeezing them vigorously.
The fat pirate turned back again to the Admiral.