𝖯𝖱𝖮𝖳𝖤𝖠|𝖢.𝖡 (𝖿𝗍.𝖩.𝖭)

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖨𝖨-𝖢𝗎𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗋

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓤𝓷𝓿𝓮𝓲𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰

Mercer moved swiftly towards the stack of crates in the corner, the others trailing close behind. As they drew nearer, a faint, wheezing sound reached their ears.
     Reaching the crates, Mercer carefully began shifting them aside, revealing a small, hidden alcove. There, sprawled on the floor, lay the duchess, her face smudged with soot and eyes closed. Beside her knelt a young woman, her dress rumpled and hair disheveled, cradling the duchess's head.
     "The duchess!" Beckett exclaimed, rushing forward. "What has happened?"
The young woman looked up, her eyes wide with relief and fear. "Thank heavens you've found us! The duchess has been overcome by the cannon smoke - she was struck as well, trying to flee the attack."
     Mercer crouched down, his weathered fingers pressing against the duchess's neck, checking her pulse. "She still lives, but her breathing is labored. We must get her to the surgeon's quarters immediately."
     Beckett wasted no time, barking orders to the officers. "Quickly, now! Two of you, carry the duchess with the utmost care. The rest, secure this area and bring the lady-in-waiting for questioning."
     As the men sprang into action, Mercer remained by the duchess's side, his expression unreadable. Beckett watched the proceedings, his brow furrowed with concern.
     "Who would dare attack the duchess's vessel?" he muttered, his jaw tightening with anger. "And why?"
     Mercer shook his head grimly. "I suspect we shall learn the answers soon enough, sir. For now, our priority must be seeing to the duchess's recovery."
     Gently, the officers lifted the unconscious duchess, carrying her with the utmost care towards the surgeon's quarters. Beckett and Mercer followed closely behind, both men consumed by a sense of urgency and unease.

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Once the duchess had been safely delivered to the surgeon's quarters, Beckett turned his attention to the young lady-in-waiting. He motioned for two of his officers to escort her to a private room for questioning.
     The lady-in-waiting followed nervously, her hands trembling. Beckett gestured for her to take a seat, then fixed her with a stern gaze.
     "Now, my dear, I need you to tell me everything you know about the attack on the duchess's vessel. Spare no detail."
     The woman swallowed hard, her eyes darting around the room. "I-I'm not entirely sure what happened, sir. One moment we were sailing peacefully, and the next..." She shuddered. "Cannon fire erupted all around us."
     Beckett leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "And how did the duchess come to be in her current condition?"
     "When the attack began, the duchess and I tried to flee to the lower decks," the lady-in-waiting explained, her voice quivering. "But one of the men who boarded the ship, he..." She paused, swallowing hard. "He struck her, to keep her quiet. The smoke from the cannons, it...it overcame her."
     Beckett's expression darkened. "I see. And do you have any idea who these attackers were or why they would target the duchess?"
     The woman shook her head helplessly. "No, sir, I'm afraid I don't. It all happened so quickly, and the duchess and I were separated. I was simply trying to keep her safe."
     Beckett regarded her skeptically, his eyes narrowing. "Very well. You will remain here until we have completed our investigation. If you remember anything else that could be of assistance, you are to inform us immediately."
     The lady-in-waiting nodded shakily, her gaze fixed on the floor. Beckett turned to the officers and gestured for them to remain with her, then strode from the room, his mind racing.
     "Mercer," he called out, spotting his seasoned assistant nearby. "We need to have a word."
     Mercer approached, his expression grave. "What have you learned, sir?"
     Beckett relayed the lady-in-waiting's account, his brow furrowed with concern. "This was no mere act of piracy, Mercer. The duchess was specifically targeted. We must get to the bottom of this, and quickly."
     Mercer nodded solemnly. "Agreed. I shall begin making inquiries among the crew, see if any of them witnessed anything unusual. Perhaps we can uncover a lead."
     "Do so," Beckett said, his voice terse. "And keep me informed of any developments. The duchess's life may very well depend on it."

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A

couple hours later, Cutler sat in his ornate cabin, poring over a stack of maps and ledgers, when a sharp knock at the door interrupted his concentration.
     "Enter," he called out, his brow furrowing as Mercer stepped inside, his expression grave.
     "Sir, I've just received an update from the surgeon tending to the duchess," Mercer announced, his voice somber.

     Cutler set down his quill, his attention immediately piqued. "Well, out with it, Mercer. What is the duchess's condition?"
 

   Mercer cleared his throat. "It appears the duchess suffered severe smoke inhalation during the attack, as well as a blow to the head. The surgeon says her breathing is labored, and she has yet to regain consciousness."
     Cutler's jaw tightened, his fingers drumming restlessly against the polished surface of his desk. "And the prognosis?"
     "The surgeon is doing all he can, but..." Mercer's gaze dropped to the floor. "He's not certain the duchess will survive."
     A tense silence fell between the two men, broken only by the gentle creaking of the ship's timbers. Cutler's expression darkened, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the edges of his desk.
     "Unacceptable," he growled. "We cannot afford to lose the duchess, not now. Have the surgeon redouble his efforts, spare no expense. I want regular updates on her condition."
     Mercer nodded solemnly. "Aye, sir. I'll see to it personally."
     Cutler's piercing gaze met Mercer's, a hint of barely-concealed fury smoldering in his eyes. "And what of the investigation into the attack? Have we any leads on the culprits?"
     "The lady-in-waiting's testimony has been...less than illuminating," Mercer admitted reluctantly. "But I've set my men to questioning the crew, searching for any clues or witnesses. We're working tirelessly to uncover the truth."
     Cutler's jaw clenched, his brow furrowing in frustration. "See that you do, Mercer. The duchess's life hangs in the balance, and I will not tolerate failure. Understood?"
     "Perfectly, sir." Mercer inclined his head respectfully, then turned and strode from the cabin, leaving Cutler alone with his mounting concerns.
     The older man steepled his fingers, his mind racing. Whoever was responsible for this attack would pay dearly, of that he was certain. The duchess's life was too valuable to be snuffed out so easily.