Chapter 34: Fractured Loyalties

The capabilities of the activated ropes exceeded Ian's expectations.

However, their length was a limiting factor. Despite their exceptional utility, they could only handle the sails on the mainmast. Modern galleons typically had four masts, but Ian had deliberately removed the bowsprit to ensure a clear firing arc for the forward-mounted cannons. Even so, three masts remained, and the activated ropes alone clearly weren't enough.

"Myrtha, I have a job for you."

Ian "snapped" the dazed Myrtha out of his trance. "Secure the sails on the remaining masts as soon as possible. Be ready to set sail at any time."

That's right—Ian's plan was to tie the sails in place but leave them furled, merely for show. If any opportunistic marauders saw his vessel adrift and thought they'd found easy prey, Ian was more than ready to teach them a harsh lesson.

"Captain, you can count on me!" Myrtha replied with enthusiasm. His adaptability seemed to have grown in response to the increasingly bizarre events he'd witnessed recently.

As Myrtha prepared to work through the night, Ian nudged him with a light kick. "Get some rest. Finish it tomorrow."

After tidying up briefly, the two returned to the tower for the night.

"Hey, Myrtha," Ian called as they reached the third-floor staircase. Myrtha paused, about to head to his room. "Did anyone come looking for me today?"

"No, Captain. I've been here all day, and no one stopped by," Myrtha replied confidently.

Ian waved him off to bed, pondering as he returned to his own quarters.

Today was supposed to be the second transaction day with the Whaler Group. As agreed, Leah should have come by this morning to finalize the deal. Ian had even lingered at the tower before leaving, waiting for her. But she never showed up.

Assuming she'd been delayed, Ian had left the goods in the living room and instructed Myrtha to escort Leah to the fourth floor if she arrived. Yet, by nightfall, she was still nowhere to be seen.

Standing at the window, Ian's coat flapped in the sea breeze as he gazed toward The Ocean's Breath. He resolved to visit her in person first thing in the morning.

Smash!

The pipe hit the floor again, this time shattering into fragments under its owner's fury. Abigail didn't even glance at the ruined pipe.

His face flushed, his broad nose red, and his mustache quivering with rage, he roared, "Wake up! Don't let greed dull your senses! Do you think those people are philanthropists? They're only trying to exploit—"

A sharper voice interrupted him harshly, "You're the one who needs to wake up, Commander! You're clinging to the past. Why was the Whaler Group formed? To survive, to ensure we all had gold in our pockets and a chance at greatness. Now there's an even better opportunity—why not seize it?"

"The New World is no sweet treat; it's a vortex of destruction. Everyone who gets involved is torn to shreds—"

"Riches come with risk! The Sea of Miracles has dangers everywhere! Or have you forgotten how those brothers of ours died just last month?"

"..."

The heated argument echoed through the room, growing more intense with every passing minute.

The Whaler Group's internal meeting had begun at dawn and stretched on into the evening, tensions mounting with no resolution in sight.

Damir stood rigidly behind the Commander's sofa, his expression cold and unyielding. To him, these people were nothing short of traitors. Without the Commander, most of them wouldn't have survived to see this day.

Leah leaned against the shadowy wall, arms crossed, her face an unreadable mask. But her tightly clenched fingers betrayed the turmoil beneath her calm exterior.

She had planned to meet Ian that morning but was summoned to this meeting instead. The organizers were not the Commander but the captains of the individual whaling ships, led by Warren. All twelve captains were present.

Warren brought up an old proposal: the Podria Navy's plan to absorb the Whaler Group into their Fourth Fleet.

Abigail exhaled deeply, scanning the room. He saw Warren, his bald head flushed with anger; Gregor and Gil, avoiding eye contact; and Uma, who had lost her usual playful grin, now sunk in silent misery.

Leaning back into the sofa, Abigail felt a pang of exhaustion. He knew the Navy's hand was behind this discord, sowing division with precision. Even if he managed to quell the unrest, the Whaler Group would never be the same. And this time, he couldn't stop it.

"So be it," Abigail said at last, his voice heavy. "I won't force anyone to stay. Those who want to leave can do so. But let me be clear: there will be rules."

His commanding tone returned, silencing the room instantly.

"First, whether you stay or go is your choice. Coercion is strictly forbidden." He fixed a piercing gaze on the captains.

"Second, you take only what's yours. Many of you received your extraordinary sequences through the Whaler Group—I won't take those back. But the ships belong to the Group. They stay."

Rising to his feet, Abigail surveyed the room. "Now, make your decision."

Warren stood immediately and strode to the other side of the room.

After a moment's hesitation, Gregor and Gil followed, heads down.

Damir's knuckles whitened on the hilt of his sword, his teeth grinding audibly as he glared at the two.

Uma sat hunched over, burying her face in her hands, silent and unmoving.

One by one, the remaining eight captains exchanged glances and, to Damir's mounting fury, joined Warren's side.

Unable to contain himself, Damir drew his sword with a loud clang, shouting, "Traitors, all of you!"

Abigail's firm hand stopped him. He looked once more at the defectors, their eyes avoiding his.

"Personal choice," Abigail said quietly. "Life or death—it's on their heads."

The room echoed with reluctant acknowledgments as the group began to disperse.

Watching them leave, Abigail's face shifted through a storm of emotions.

The scale of the defection was worse than he'd feared.

"The Navy's playing a dangerous game. If they've resorted to threats against my crew…" Abigail's fists clenched. He wasn't one to hold grudges, but this time, he was truly incensed.

"Damir, you're with me tomorrow."

"Uma, return to the ship and gather the crew. Await orders."

"Leah... Get some rest. For the next few days, stay out of sight. All external operations are suspended."