Without Farewell

Three days, that was how long Macflant had been silent.

In the Indus Empire, silence from a Kingsman was not unusual—until it was. Orders were carried out, forts were taken, blood was spilled, and reports often arrived late. War had its own rhythm. Still, three days was enough to be noted.

King Lionheart sat upon the stone-backed throne of the council chamber, fingers drumming once against the armrest before going still again. His expression did not change. If anything, he looked bored—an emperor listening to matters too small to disturb him.

“Macflant has missed his scheduled report.” The chamberlain said carefully. “The western relay received nothing. Neither did the coastal watch.”

Lionheart waved a hand. “Macflant does not write poetry. He writes results.”A few officers nodded in agreement.

“He was assigned to Jadewater Isle” The king continued. “A minor island with stubborn defenses and good harbors. Nothing more.” Placed his hand on his chin. “Even I am curious, what Crimson tide is planning.”

Naval officer asked to the council. “If the crown and his council approve, I would like to pay a visit to Macflant on his island.” He placed his hands on the table. “Gentlemen forgive me if I am hasty, We are not in a position to not take actions as per the recent accidents on the Indus’ water.”The chamber quieted.

Lionheart studied the man for a moment, then smiled—not warmly, but with approval.

“That,” he said, rising from the throne, “is the thinking of an Indus officer.” He turned toward the tall windows overlooking the sea. “Go!” Lionheart ordered. “Find Captain Macflant. Bring me answers.”The officer bowed deeply and withdrew from the council. 

The Crimson Wake moved like a patient beast across the water.

She was sturdy, broad-bellied, built to carry weight the survive storms—not to race the wind. Compared to the phantom, she felt slow. Heavy. Each wave met her hull with a dull, steady rhythm, as if reminding those abroad that speed was not her purpose.

Heesan sat at the very front of the deck, just behind the figurehead.
The carved wood stretched forward over the sea—an old design, scarred and salt-worn, its expression frozen somewhere between defiance and grief. Heesan rested his palm on his knee and forearm of other hand on his other knee, coat folded beside him, the wind tugging lightly at his hair.

As he took a bite of the food.

Chewed.

Swallowed.

His face did not change, but his jaw tightened just slightly.

Heesan thought in his mind, Frederick’s cooking was… edible. Efficient. Nourishing. The kind of food meant to keep men alive, not make them remember why they were living. But Aijin's stew... would have been warmer. Thicker. Seasoned by instinct rather than measurement. She would have added herbs or cherries without thinking, tasting as she went, scolding the pot as if it were a stubborn child.

Why am I thinking of her?

He dismissed his thoughts immediately.

“Damn… this is bad… a Man like me should not be distracted. I should focus on myself first.” He muttered.

A soft chuckle came from behind him.

“That’s what men usually say,” Frederick replied, “right before they get distracted anyway.”

Heesan didn’t turn. “If you’re here to lecture me, don’t.” “I wouldn’t dare, Captain.” Frederick said and stepped beside him and rested one hand on the railing. His eyes followed the sea, calm and practiced. “I am here because you skipped the mid-deck inspection. That usually means one or two things.”

Heesan glanced at him. “And?”

“You are either planning a war,” Frederick said, “or thinking about a women.” He looked at him “The way you stabbed the bowl of stew, I can tell it's the second thing.”

“You talk too much, Frederick.” He started to walk toward the captain’s cabin, after jumping on the deck. “First thing I will do after reaching Indus Empire is replacing the cook.”

“The right comes with age and experience, captain.” Frederick chuckled. “We should reach Indus Empire in a week or less.”

“My Sailing… GOD…” The voice came from the top of the front mast and echoed on the ship. Heesan sprinted to the area. Everyone on the ship is gathered at the front of the ship.

“What is Happen~” Heesan shouted then stopped mid sentence, he stared at the horizon where a galleon named Indus Command. The ship’s mast from which people had been hanged, blindfolded, and shot. “My Crew. Gear up, Man the cannons, Hoist the sails to the wind.” Heesan said with a smirk carved on his face. “We are sailing to damnation!”

Frederick saw an eye patched captain on Indus Command and the flag of the most deceived empire named Indus through his spyglass. “Captain! We should back off. If we fight now, more ships will come” Frederick looked at Heesan.

Heesan stared into Frederick’s soul. Only thing Frederick saw at that moment was death, Frederick’s death or the ship’s. “Frederick. What made you think we should back off? Come here and care the wheel.” Heesan picked up a lit fuse and fired the front cannon towards the galleon. “Listen up! We won’t back down. We are no longer cowards who face away from glory or death. Get ready now or die with nothing to be remembered by”

The cannon roared.

A column of smoke burst from the Crimson Wake’s bow as the iron ball screamed across the waves. It struck the Indus Command’s hull just above the waterline, splintering wood and sending shards across the deck.

“Reload!” Frederick Barked.

Sailors rushed like ants across the deck—ramrods slamming powder into cannons, ropes tightening, sails snapping as the wind caught them.

Crimson Wake leaned into the wind and surged forward.

Across the water, Indus Command answered.

“Fire!” The naval officer shouted.

Three cannons thundered from the enemy ship. Iron balls ripped across the sea. One smashed into the water beside Crimson Wake, sending a tower of spray over the bow. Another slammed into the railing, tearing planks apart and knocking a sailor to the deck.

Heesan didn’t flinch. “Closer.” he ordered calmly.

Frederick gripped the wheel. “Captain, they outgun us!”

Heesan stared the enemy’s ship. “Only if we attack from behind.”

The ships closed the distance.

Then Heesan raised his hand. “Load the Chain Cannon Balls.” He shouted. “Aim for the mast.”

The gunners adjusted the cannon. The fuse burned.

BOOM.

The iron ball tore through Indus Command’s rear mast. For a heartbeat nothing happened—then the massive wooden pillar cracked with a deep groan.

CRACK.

The mast split and collapsed across the deck, crushing rigging and snapping ropes. Sailors screamed as the sails collapsed around them like a falling storm.

Indus Command drifted helplessly, its sails tangled and broken.

Frederick stared. “We crippled them…”

Heesan drew his twin blades slowly. “No,” he said. “We broke their legs. Now it is time for their necks.” He stepped onto the railing and pointed forward.

“Board them.”

Grappling hooks flew through the air.

The ropes tightened as the ships slammed together with a violent crash.

“MOVE!” Heesan roared.

Heesan jumped first.

Boots hit the enemy deck as flintlock fired around him. Smoke Exploded across the ship. A bullet tore past an soldier’s shoulder.

Too slow.

Heesan’s Flintlock pistol shined.

The soldier fell before the powder even sparked.

Around him the deck became chaos.

Steel rang against steel. Flintlocks boomed in burst of smoke. Sailors crashed into soldiers as blood splashed across the soaked wood.

Frederick landed beside him, pistol firing into the crowd. “Clear the deck!” he shouted.

Heesan moved through the battle like a storm.

A soldier lunged with a saber—Heesan parried and drove his second blade into the man’s chest. Another fired a pistol; Heesan twisted aside and cut down his fingers then kicked him over the railing into the sea.

Within moments the fighting slowed

Bodies covered the deck

Only one man remained standing near the broken mast.

The naval officer with the eye-patch.

Sword drawn

Eyes burning.

He looked at Heesan with cold stare.

“So…” The officer said slowly, Blood dripping from his blade. “So the fishermen weren’t lying about you. I shouldn't have killed them then.”

Naval officer raised his cutlass slowly. “You fight good,” the officer said, breathing steadily. “Not the usual pirates we drag from the seas, your kind usually scream when they die.”

“Your kind usually run away when faced head-on” Heesan said staring his soul. “How is the feeling of getting drag by my kind?”

“Commander Darius Vale” He said, lifting his blade slightly. “Naval officer of fifth generation.” He smirked at Heesan. “Who am I facing.”

Heesan grips his swords loosely. “Heesan Zakeson, Captain of The Crimson wake” He points his sword to him. “The one who face Indus Empire face to face”

Commander Darius filched “Son of Zake? How is this possible?” He raised his pistol to Heesan “I will bring the head of the son of Zake to the Emperor.”

The name clearly meant something, but the officer couldn’t his hastiness.

The wind snapped through the broken sails on fire. Then both men moved.

Steel crashed together.

Vale struck first—fast and precise. His cutlass cut through the air toward Heesan’s Shoulder. Heesan twisted aside and parried, sparks flying as their blades collided.

Darius pressed forward with practiced strikes, each swing controlled like a trained soldier.

Heesan answered with speed.

Their blades flashed again and again across the ruined deck.

Vale lunged—

Heesan stepped inside the strike.

His first blade knocked the cutlass aside.

His second blade cut across the officer’s thigh.

Blood spilled across the planks.

Vale staggered but swung again, fury replacing discipline.

Heesan ducked under the wild strike and slammed his shoulder into the officer’s chest.

The commander crashed to the deck.

Before he could rise, Heesan’s blade was already at his throat.

Vale froze. The deck around them had gone quiet.

Frederick and the crew stood watching.

Vale glared up at him. “Well?” the officer said bitterly. “I expect nothing more from Zake’s son.” Vale closed his eyes

SLASH

Heesan’s blade cut deep across Vale’s sword arm. The cutlass fell from his 

hand as he screamed.

Blood poured down his sleeve.

“Captain?” Frederick stepped forward. “What are you doing? Why not kill him?”

Heesan performed ō-chiburi. “Bind him, don’t treat his wounds, no food and water.” He said without emotion. “Lock him in the cell.”

Vale spat blood. “You think that will open my mouth?”

“Didn’t expect that from Zake’s son?” Heesan said and stepped back onto the Crimson Wake.

Frederick nodded. “Take him.”

The Crew members dragged the bleeding Commander toward the boarding ropes.

Behind them, into the horizon. The sea wind carried the smell of smoke and blood across the broken ship and the smell of defeat across the Indus Empire.