OBS Chapter 223: A new era
Chapter 223: A new era
"Come on, faster!" Iosif urged, glancing back at Ella as she carefully maneuvered his wheelchair down the bumpy and improvised path leading down the cliff. The uneven terrain didn’t allow her to go faster, one wrong bump and her husband would accelerate to his death. Behind them, the young man who had delivered the news followed closely, his steps careful to avoid slipping on the loose stones.
Ella didn’t respond and only shot him a staring look, one that forced Iosif to fall silent, losing his courage to pronounce a sound. Ella sighed - "There is no need to be in such a hurry...that ship won’t sail without you." - she said, trying to calm down her man, leading him down at her own pace.
It didn’t take long for them to reach the village at the foot of the mountain and push Iosif toward the port of Frostwave Bay. They passed by the newly paved roads, now eerily empty, the usual bustle replaced by silence. The reason became clear as they neared the docks, the entire city seemed to have gathered there, standing before a single ship moored at the water’s edge.
Its mast stretched high into the sky, and its gray wooden hull glistened faintly under the weak afternoon sun. The crowd buzzed with excitement, voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony, but the crashing waves and sheer volume of chatter made it impossible for Iosif to make out any single conversation.
"The General is here! I brought the General" the young man called out as he rushed ahead.
The moment the General arrived, the crowd fell silent. Every pair of eyes turned toward him, their excitement almost tangible. Then, as if by instinct, their gazes shifted to Racob—the man who had led them through countless trials. His grizzled hair and weathered face bore the marks of a life spent battling the sea, but today, his expression was nothing but triumphant.
The crowd instantly fell silent, turning to their direction, watching as the General approached their position. Then, as if by instinct, their gazes shifted to Racob, the leader of shipbuilders. A man with average height, grizzled hair and a weathered skin, marked by the salty air. Racob’s lips parted in a triumphant grin.
"General," Racob called out, unable to contain his excitement "We did it! We finally made it!"
Iosif said nothing, his gaze fixed on the ship before him. He wasn’t a shipbuilder, but even he could see the differences between this vessel and the many failed attempts before it. This one was wider, sturdier. The overlapping planks, bound tightly with hundreds of iron rivets, looked as if they could withstand the relentless beating of the waves. The mast was shorter, and the bow curved slightly upward, giving it a more balanced and stable appearance.
Without a word, Racob entered knee-deep in the icy water, his calloused fingers running along the hull with something close to reverence. "It wasn’t easy working with the wood from the Frozen Forest," he admitted. "Took countless trials, countless errors... Months just to understand how to shape it properly."
The gathered shipbuilders behind him nodded in agreement, some rubbing their sore hands as if recalling the excruciating hours of work - "We even had to get the blacksmiths involved for some parts," Racob continued. "But we did it... If only we hadn’t lost those bandit ships, we could’ve done it faster...but here it is." - He said, remembering the bandits that attacked the village, which had all been killed and their ship accidentally burnt, leaving a single map of a place near the bay.
-x-
It didn’t take long for him to convince her, though it came with a grumble from Ella, something about how if he drowned, she might as well drown with him. And soon, they were all aboard the ship, sailing slowly toward the sea. Ten men rowed in unison, their hands steady, until they reached the mouth of the bay, where a natural underwater barrier churned the waves into a chaotic mess.
"Raise the sail!" Racob shouted, pulling hard on the ropes. The thick canvas unfurled with a snap, catching the wind instantly. The rowers gritted their teeth and pushed harder, fighting against the force of the tide.
"Hold on!" - Racob screamed.
Ella clung to the mast with one hand and gripped Iosif’s wheelchair with the other, her knuckles white. Her eyes screwed shut as the ship lurched violently, the hull groaning under the strain. The rowers yelled, their arms burning with effort as they rowed with everything they had.
"More strength! Row!" - Racob’s voice thundered louder than the roar of the waves. He slammed his palm against the back of one of the men rowing, urging them forward. The ship bucked, rising and falling with the surging water, the wooden planks beneath their feet creaking under the pressure.
Ella gripped the mast tighter with each new noise. On the other hand, Iosif was calm, ready to accept whatever came his way.
Then, just as suddenly as the chaos had begun, it ended.
The ship steadied. The creaking ceased. The wind no longer fought against them but carried them forward with ease. The exhausted rowers slumped back, panting heavily, some laughing in triumph as they bumped their fists together.
Ella slowly opened one eye, then the other, still clutching the mast for dear life. Meanwhile, Iosif continued to sit completely still, but relief still flashed by his eyes. However, there was a new emotion there, one he was still trying to understand.
Racob turned to him, spreading his arms wide, his grin one of exhilaration and madness combined.
"What do you think, General?" he asked, his voice almost reverent. "Welcome to the unknown."