The Grand Duke's Soulmate-Chapter 588: The Day They Set Sail (I)

The carriage’s wheels rattled steadily along the cobblestone road, the sound echoing between stone buildings as it descended towards the harbour. As they approached their destination, the horses slowed to navigate the growing crowd.

Armel pushed aside the curtain and leaned towards the window.

Summer had breathed full life into Port Braska. Dockworkers shouted over one another as they hauled crates of fish and barrels of goods, merchants called out prices beneath striped awnings.

The gulls wheeled overhead with sharp cries, and the briny scent of salt, tar, and sun-warmed wood filled the surroundings.

Ships bobbed against their moorings, sails half-raised and snapping lazily in the sea breeze while ropes creaked, and masts groaned like restless giants.

Then he saw it.

Beyond the clutter of fishing vessels and trading ships stood a magnificent warship bearing the renowned crest of the Grand Duke of Gerhard.

Its hull gleamed dark and polished under the sun, brass fittings catching the light like fire.

Sailors moved briskly across the deck, securing ropes, hoisting cargo, and checking rigging in disciplined coordination.

Planks thudded as supplies were loaded, and commands rang sharply through the air.

Armel’s breath caught in his throat at the sight—the vessel looked less like a ship and more like a floating fortress ready to conquer the sea.

"We’re here!" Armel exclaimed, turning eagerly to Athillia at his side.

"Shh..." The princess pressed a finger gently to her lips and cast a subtle glance towards the figure seated opposite them.

Armel followed her gaze.

Elis sat with her head tilted slightly to one side, eyes closed, her breathing shallow and even. The soft sway of the carriage had lulled her into a rare moment of rest.

"She’s barely slept these past few days," Athillia whispered. "She only just managed to drift off."

"But we’ve arrived," Armel murmured. "Shouldn’t she wake so we can board?"

Athillia looked back at Elis, and her heart tightened. The princess consort’s complexion was pale, almost translucent.

In the early months of pregnancy and plagued by relentless morning sickness, she had endured the long journey from the duchy to the port instead of remaining in bed as she should have.

It was only the beginning, and the road ahead—towards Semeta—would be even more arduous. Athillia could only pray Elis possessed the strength to endure what awaited her.

"Let her rest a little bit more," she said softly. "Her Highness hasn’t uttered a single complaint, but I know how exhausted she is. We made only brief stops to arrive in time."

"All right," Armel agreed. "I’ll request a brief delay in boarding until preparations are finished. I will inform His Highness of this once the carriage halts," he added.

Athillia could not help but feel thankful.

Throughout the journey, Armel had proven himself invaluable. Though a servant, he had taken on the role of Elis’s guardian at Kiev’s request, considering her his responsibility.

No task seemed too small or too burdensome. The teenager carried them out without hesitation, always attentive and always earnest.

The carriage rolled to a final halt before the grand vessel’s mooring.

Outside, the knights dismounted from their horses in swift succession. Armour clinked as boots struck the dock.

Rafe slid down from his saddle and handed the reins to a stable hand, his eyes already scanning the ship and the surrounding crowd.

Armel stepped down from the carriage and approached Kyren, who stood issuing quiet instructions to the officers overseeing their departure.

"Your Highness," Armel said respectfully, bowing his head. "Her Highness Princess Elis has just fallen asleep. May we delay her boarding for a short while?"

Kyren’s eyes briefly shifted towards the carriage. His expression remained composed, yet understanding shone in his eyes.

He gave a subtle nod, indicating for the teenager to return and rejoin the princess consort and Athillia.

"See that a shaded path is cleared," The grand duke ordered one of the knights. "And have the cabin for the princess consort prepared immediately. She will board last."

At once, the knights moved to comply—clearing a direct route up the gangplank and ensuring no unnecessary crowding near the entrance.

Kyren then turned to Eric. "Inspect the ship. Confirm everything is secured."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Well, I’ll be," Seadog Grimm drawled when he caught sight of Eric climbing aboard. The weathered seaman tipped his head in greeting, sea-worn hands resting on the rail. "If it ain’t Sir Navin. The tide’s kind t’ bring ye back to the deck."

He gave a respectful, awkward, but sincere bow.

Eric allowed a faint smirk. "Good day, Seadog Grimm. I appreciate you answering my request and joining this voyage."

Seadog Grimm straightened, his sun-creased eyes glinting. "For the Great Khasif?" He let out a slight grin. "Even if I were laid flat with fever and one foot in the grave, I’d haul myself upright the moment her name was called."

Eric’s smile widened. "Your loyalty to her is remarkable. Such devotion deserves equal honour."

The old seaman grinned before replying, "The first Khasif was a legend of the waters—a true sea-wolf. Conqueror o’ the Seven Seas, they called him. We seamen still speak his name when the storms rise." He thumped a fist lightly against his chest. "And the new Khasif... she may not know the ropes nor read the wind, but she stood against the pirates and saved us all. A debt like that? A seaman doesn’t forget. We pay what we owe."

Eric nodded solemnly. "As do we."

He paused before adding, more quietly, "On behalf of Gerhard... I owe you an apology. We did not believe you when you claimed our lady to be a direct descendant of Ro’an, and His Highness reprimanded you harshly for speaking it."

Seadog Grimm’s beard twitched.

"Aye, he did. Near tore the deck from beneath me with that glare of his." He shrugged. "But I took no offence. The sea keeps its secrets till the right tide turns."

Eric inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"And perhaps," he added, glancing towards the grand duke below, "that tide’s turnin’ now."

"Aye... it is," the old seaman replied, though his tone had lost its earlier rough warmth. His eyes drifted towards the vast sea, and for a fleeting beat, something heavy lingered in them—regret, perhaps... or an old wound not yet healed.

Eric caught the change at once. "What troubles you?"

Grimm exhaled slowly through his nose.

"I’m grateful to be part o’ this voyage and to lend what I can. But hearin’ that ye’ll bring those ruffians aboard... makin’ ’em part of the crew..." He trailed off, jaw tightening as he looked down at the water.

"I understand," Eric said quietly.

Seadog Grimm had every reason to refuse. The history between him and those men was not a minor quarrel. It was a bloody one. Yet, despite that, he had answered Kyren’s summons without hesitation.

"Even so," Eric continued, "we have little choice. They hail from that region. They know the currents, the hidden reefs, the uncharted inlets. Without their guidance, we might sail blind and never reach our intended shore."

The old seaman’s gaze lifted slightly.

"So I ask you to understand our constraint," Eric added. "We need them for now."

The old seaman paused before giving a slow nod.

"Fine," he muttered at last. "I’ll swallow the bitterness for the sake o’ the voyage. But mark me—" His voice hardened. "See that my life is secured. I’ve no fear o’ dyin’ to the sea. She’s taken many of my kind, and I’ll gladly return to her when my time comes. But I’ll not fall to the blades of those men."

"You have our word," the second-in-command knight replied firmly. "Their leader will not command this vessel. The captain remains the man who has sailed those waters before, and every major decision aboard will take your counsel into account."

Seadog Grimm studied him for a moment, then gave a short grunt of acceptance.

"Aye, noted," he replied with a crooked grin. "The captain’s the one who lost the memory o’ the exact course by the magic, eh?" he asked.

Eric acknowledged, "Yes, he is."

Seadog Grimm gave a low chuckle.

"Never mind what happened to him. I may not know the island we’re bound for, but I know the sea. She speaks to those who listen. I’ll use what senses she’s given me to see ye there safe."

"Your consideration is appreciated," Eric said with a respectful nod.

Seadog Grimm turned his weathered gaze towards the horizon, where sunlight shimmered across the rolling waters.

"Winds are fair," he observed. "If we cast off before noon, we’ll catch a clean tide and make good headway."

Eric followed his line of sight, then swept his eyes across the deck.

Sailors were already tightening the rigging, securing barrels and supply crates in the hold, and checking the mainsail’s tension.

Orders rang crisply, boots thudded against planks, and ropes creaked under strain. Everything was falling into place.

Below on the dock, Kyren remained beside the carriage, waiting.

The voyage across the sea would commence soon.

"I’ll head down and oversee the situation at the mooring," Eric said. "I’ll see you later, Seadog Grimm."

"Aye, Sir Navin. Gerhard shall have my finest seamanship," the old seaman replied, bowing once more before returning to bark instructions at the crew.

Eric descended the gangplank and strode onto the dock. He paused briefly to inspect the mooring lines, ensuring they were appropriately secured for release, and exchanged a few words with the quartermaster about final cargo checks.

Satisfied, he made his way towards Kyren.

"Everything is proceeding according to plan," he reported. "We can board now."

At that moment, another carriage rolled up from the direction of the Gerhard mansion. It stopped right before the two men.

Anryr stepped down first, steady and composed as always, followed closely by Rosalie, whose anxious eyes searched immediately for familiar faces.

"Your Highness," the steward greeted with a respectful bow. "We came to see you off."

"That is thoughtful of you," Kyren responded.

"It is the least we can do. This voyage concerns Lady Raychard and Mrs Amares. The entire household is praying for your safety. It has not felt the same without them. We are all rooting for their return," said Anryr.

A teasing smile curved along Eric’s lips.

"You wouldn’t mind if Mrs Amares were to... accidentally blow up the barbecue pit again, would you?" he jested lightly.

The steward let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Ouff! She may burn every pit in the courtyard if she so wishes. I shall not utter a single complaint."

By now, he was well aware of who had truly been responsible for that unfortunate explosion.

The second-in-command knight cleared his throat with a soft chuckle and leaned in.

"Best not let Rafe hear me jest about it. He’ll likely smack my head with that charred pot."

"He still keeps it?" Anryr’s eyes widened in disbelief. "I distinctly told him to discard that dreadful thing!"

"You truly think he would?" Eric smirked.

Kyren, who had been listening in composed silence, finally spoke.

"Do not be too hard on him. He carries the burden of leading the entourage."

"It was only a light remark, Your Highness. The mood has been strained for days. Everything was arranged in haste for this departure. I merely sought a brief ease before we sail," said the second-in-command knight.

Kyren regarded him quietly and caught the sincerity behind the remark. The tightness in his shoulders gradually eased.

He knew Eric meant no harm; the joke had not been born of disrespect, only an attempt to lighten a burdened mood.

Anryr smiled, visibly relieved by the calm exchange. Folding his hands neatly before him, he offered, "Then may favourable winds guide your sails, and may fortune walk beside you until you return home."

Rosalie stepped forward as well, echoing her own heartfelt blessing for a safe voyage. Together, they bowed deeply in farewell to the grand duke and his men.

Kyren inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"You have my gratitude. Ensure the mansion remains in order in our absence."

"It will, Your Highness," Anryr assured, and they stepped back to observe the departure from the side.

Rafe approached shortly after, brushing dust from his sleeves as his gaze shifted towards the carriage. "Why hasn’t Elis boarded yet?"

He had just finished supervising the transfer of remedy chests and potion crates from the supply cart onto the vessel, carefully instructing the assigned crew on their storage.

The medicinal contents required meticulous handling to prevent spoilage during the long voyage.

"She fell asleep upon our arrival," Kyren replied. "Let her rest a little longer."

"Ah... will do," said the healer, nodding in understanding.

"Let us begin the ritual first," Kyren said, his tone calm. "Once it is done, we shall board together."

"Yes," Rafe agreed without hesitation. "It is best to proceed now."

Their strides began towards the broad stone platform near the edge of the dock—an elevated stretch at the moor that offered an unobstructed view of the open sea.

From that vantage point, they would face the barrier that had long sealed them, disallowing the grand duke and his men from pursuing Anna.

Eric lifted his hand and signalled the knights.

"Form up."

Armoured figures moved swiftly into position, arranging themselves in a disciplined line at the moor.

At the same time, the crew and dockworkers who had finished securing the last of the supply crates stepped aside to observe, falling into hushed silence.

The wind stirred lightly across the harbour, carrying with it the scent of brine and salt.

Rafe stood before the waves as he prepared to begin the incantation that would command the barrier to yield. The grand duke waited behind, a step away from the platform.

He held his composure and—

"Kyren! Wait!"