The gentle sway of the Roaring Axe accompanied the captain of the ship like a mother's lullaby. Inside the captain's cabin, Blake sat at the large oak table.
The Roaring Axe, or better yet its name, had once been his father's vessel, a symbol of power and pride in the days when his father commanded the respect of ten ships. Now, it was Blake's flagship's name , a legacy he carried both proudly and heavily as a way to honor him.
Across from Blake sat Kroll, his long-time friend, leaning back in his chair with an easy air. Between them on the table were two empty cups, their polished metal gleaming faintly in the lantern light. Blake had invited Kroll aboard earlier that day, the rare lull in the chaos of leadership offering them a chance to reminisce.