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"𝔒𝔫𝔢. Two. Three. Four." The steady intonation of the captain of your guard, or David, as you called him, (Uncle David, if you were trying to annoy), called out the tempo of your sword exercises. The sun, barely above the flat horizon, glinted off of the long thin blade as it twisted and turned. The deck pitched below your feet, the ship rising up on a swell, but your carefully bent knees rode up and down again with ease. Your sea legs were already much better than the day you'd come on board a week ago. And the constant movement of the ocean, and by extension, the ship you were on, added a challenging element to the exercises, even if you were doing them solo. Through no fault of your own, you might add, as you'd offered to practice with nearly everyone on board.

The few sailors who accepted, thinking a mere slip of a girl would be easy to defeat, didn't do so again. And the few soldiers on board had all declined, David explaining to you that it would be improper for them to fight their princess. When asked why he'd let the few sailors do so, David had also told you that they "needed a good beating" anyhow. Which you definitely couldn't deny.

So you were resigned to practice alone. It wasn't all bad; you could work on your form more this way. And you could watch the ocean, sometimes, and feel the salty breeze. You hated it below decks. Unfortunately you were confined there for a good portion of the day, in the spacious-- for a ship-- room that would serve as your quarters during the two-week travel around the cape of the country and to the other side, where your mother and siblings were waiting.

It had been deemed too dangerous to go by land, with the ever-increasing presence of Kozmiran bandits and soldiers that were slowly and steadily invading your country. War was coming, you knew that much, even if nobody seemed to want to talk to you about it. You suspected it was because of the fact that you were only the second princess, and your sister would be inheriting the throne. It was really a miracle you'd managed to stay in the capital for as long as you had.

But finally enough was enough for your father, who'd finally deigned to send you to join your mother and younger siblings at the beach house where your grandparents resided. Normally you loved vacations there, but you didn't appreciate being shipped off to nowhere. With a final, vindictive swipe of your sword, you slipped it back into the sheath attached to the belt that cinched around the tunic at your waist.

"I believe I'm done for the day." You informed David, removing the headband you used to keep your hair back and stuffing it into the sheath as well.

"As you wish," David nodded. "I believe that--" he began, when a shout from the lookout, perched high on the mast, rang through the air.

"There's a ship off the portside helm! Looks like 'er sails're down!" The man called, his words carrying easily. Your eyes snapped in the direction he'd indicated. The ship was closer than you'd thought it would have been, seeming to have snuck up when you weren't looking.

The captain of the ship, who happened to be David's cousin-- you hadn't quite figured out what that made her to you-- stepped out of the cabin, listening to the report of the sailor.

"What's she flying?"

"No country's flag, cap'n. She's got the distress one though, clear enough."

You didn't miss the flash of concern that swept over the captain's face, which was quickly replaced by a careful mask of solemnness.

"Take the Princess to her cabins. Send your soldiers up to the second hatch, don't show themselves yet. It may be nothing..." The captain's expression showed how unlikely she thought this was, but you were well aware that the code among sailors said they couldn't pass by a ship clearly in trouble and do nothing.

Your uncle nodded, beckoning you to follow. You did so, your grip drifting to the hilt of your sword as you glanced one more time at the ship you were swiftly approaching before disappearing below decks.


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