Chapter 137: Into the North [3]

The salty wind whipped across the bustling docks of the deep-sea port, carrying the heavy scent of tar, roasting fish, and the distant, restless energy of the open ocean.

Craig von Darkstar stood at the base of the massive wooden gangway, his emerald-green eyes flickering as he stared out across the churning, indigo expanse of the Northern Ire Sea.

Beneath his calm exterior, his mind was already spinning several steps ahead, mapping out the geopolitical board of the northern waters.

’By this time in this timeline, the five infamous pirate factions must still be active across these shipping lanes, right?’ Craig mused inwardly, a faint, calculating smile curling the corners of his lips. ’If played correctly, they might not just be a nuisance to be swatted away. I should think of ways to make use of them before we reach Oman City.’

Before he could delve deeper into his maritime schemes, reality snapped back into focus.

It was their turn to cross the boarding ramp.

Standing before the wide wooden gangway were several heavily armored ship enforcers—private security contractors employed by the Ducal Navy Command to keep the peace and maintain order aboard the leviathan vessel.

As Craig and his party stepped forward, the enforcers planted their halberds down and fixed the travelers with hard, critical stares, scrutinizing every member of the group from head to toe with cold, professional suspicion.

One of the lead enforcers, a scarred veteran with a thick silver beard, crossed his arms over his chainmail chest.

He narrowed his eyes at the newcomers and demanded their identities and purpose.

Craig stepped forward smoothly, his posture relaxed and entirely unbothered.

He flashed a brilliant, disarming smile, offering the exact same fabricated identity he had successfully used to fool the immigration officials of the Asherian Viscounty.

"Good day, officers," Craig greeted warmly, pitching his voice to carry the polished confidence of a wealthy young merchant. "I am Sebastian Ford, head of the Ford Merchant Group. These are my family members and our contracted security escort, and we are traveling north for a commercial venture."

The moment the enforcers heard the word merchant, a subtle, instantaneous shift occurred in their expressions.

Greed flickered deep within their eyes.

To corrupt or underpaid maritime security enforcers, an independent merchant group traveling through frontier waters was less of a passenger manifest and more of an open-air treasure chest waiting to be milked for extra fees, protection bribes, and port taxes.

Seeing the avarice practically radiating from their gazes, the corners of Craig’s lips twitched upward into a silent, knowing smirk.

He knew precisely what game they were playing.

They were planning to bleed him dry with hidden surcharges and arbitrary cabin inspections once he was trapped out on the open sea.

But Craig remained entirely quiet, playing the part of the wealthy, naive young heir to perfection.

After a theatrical pause, the lead enforcer cleared his throat loudly, dropping his hands from his chest and holding out an open palm.

"Very well, Master Ford," the enforcer stated, his tone dripping with formal authority masking underlying extortion. "Before you and your retinue are permitted to cross the ship’s brow, we require the mandatory presentation of your government-issued travel permits, your port clearance forms, and your maritime travel tickets. Hand them over for inspection."

Craig nodded amiably. Without missing a beat, he flicked a subtle finger toward his veteran bodyguard. "Hughway. If you please."

Ser Hughway stepped forward out of the shadows.

The moment the terrifyingly tall, broad-shouldered knight moved into the harsh sunlight, the cocky, greedy smiles on the enforcers’ faces instantly faltered.

Hughway radiated the heavy, suffocating aura of a seasoned Superhuman whose battle instincts had been honed through decades of bloodshed.

Even with his broadsword sheathed at his waist, his mere presence made the air grow cold.

The lead enforcer swallowed hard, his hand trembling slightly as Hughway reached into his pouch and pulled out the crisp, officially stamped documents and tickets, handing them over with crushing military precision.

The enforcers hastily took the paperwork, flipping through the permits and tickets with frantic speed.

They didn’t dare try to scrutinize them too closely or invent fake violations now; the terrifying presence of the towering sell-sword standing before them had completely drained their appetite for petty extortion.

"Everything... everything is entirely in order," the lead enforcer stammered quickly, handing the documents back to Ser Hughway with an uncharacteristic display of nervous respect.

Craig retained his bright, easygoing smile throughout the entire inspection process.

But the enforcers, acutely aware of how blatantly they had just been caught drooling over a wealthy mark, felt deeply irritated and unsettled by his unwavering grin.

They began whispering anxiously to one another in hushed tones, avoiding eye contact.

Craig raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly. "Is there a problem, officers? Did we miss a stamp?"

The enforcers coughed awkwardly, shaking their heads with sudden, frantic compliance.

"N-no problem at all, Master Ford! Your paperwork is pristine. You are officially cleared. You and your party may board the ship now."

"Much obliged," Craig nodded smoothly.

With a subtle gesture of his hand, Craig signaled his party to move forward.

Ser Damian took the lead, guiding Annie gently up the wide wooden gangway, while Ser Hughway and Craig brought up the rear.

Earlier, during the administrative processing at the maritime ticket allocation office, Craig had meticulously ensured that their quarters were arranged for maximum security and convenience.

He had purchased two adjoining private rooms on the ship’s upper residential deck, ensuring they remained within striking distance of one another at all times.

Specifically, he had secured Room 500 and Room 501.

Craig held the polished iron keys to both chambers securely in his gloved hand as their group marched up the ship’s brow, officially crossing the threshold from the solid stone docks onto the vibrating, pitch-black iron deck of the massive warship.

Just as his leading boot stepped onto the ship’s deck, Craig felt an instinctive prickle of awareness.

He instinctively tilted his head to the side, pausing for a single, calculated fraction of a second.

Right beside the gangway, among the trailing clusters of late-arriving passengers hauling their heavy traveling bags aboard, his emerald-green eyes locked directly onto a familiar figure.

It was the black-skinned man who had been watching him in the hotel common room—the undercover surveillance operative operating under the fabricated identity of Andres Mogulis.

For a brief, suspended moment in time, their gazes clashed across the crowded deck—two apex predators sizing each other up amidst a sea of unsuspecting travelers.

Then, maintaining his mask of absolute, unreadable indifference, Craig calmly broke eye contact, turned away, and stepped fully aboard the vessel, ready to begin his journey into the northern waters.