Chapter 41: Great Lake Purge.
Five months since Riven entered the Great Lake.
....
Ahh.... Gather around children. Let me tell you a story.
The tale of the Great Lake purge!
That’s what the future would call it. It all began with a whisper.
A whisper carried across the taverns of the Great Lake’s floating markets, whorehouses, through the smoky dens of lakeside gambling houses, and deep into the cabins of drifting pirate lords.
A whisper of a "fat sheep."
The tale, born from the mouth of Wave Dragon... although no one knew - had started as a joke.
A nobleman, young and arrogant, drifting through pirate-infested waters in a luxury boat with a pile of taels of silver, and not a single escort worthy of note.
The information was so fucking juicy, it was just made for Pirates who’s willing to take action.
A sheep with bags of coin and just enough nerve to hand it over without a fight.
Soon... two of the lesser pirate fleets—ranked in the bottom quarter of the Thirty-Six, decided to test their luck.
They joined forces and set sail with over a hundred men, confident in their ambush.
Well planned, right?
Gonna get rich, right?
Bitch on the right side of the bed... bitch on the left... wine and gold?
Weelll....
They never returned.
Their ships were shattered... absolutely obliterated on the calm waters.
Burned and frozen, broken, and sunk before the fuckers could even shout ’board the ship!’.
The few who survived fled on splintered life boats, limping back to the underworld harbors with pale faces, wide eyes and trembling hands.
Their stories spread faster than fire:
"A man who burns aflame like an inferno."
"A woman whose breath can freeze bone."
"They don’t dodge. You’ll have to."
By the time these tales reached the top brass of the pirate world, the "fat sheep" narrative had flipped completely.
This wasn’t prey, it was a predator in fine silk.
Still, there was one detail the survivors never failed to mention.
"He’s rich."
That alone was enough.
It was also around this time, another rumor reached their ears.
This young noble - the Duke of Sundawn’s only heir - Riveron Ashvale, also holds a heaven tier manual.
Along with the map to Nocthar Dynasty’s treasure.
Of course many knew it was too good to be true, but with the confluence of the things happening In the Great Lake these past few months....
They couldn’t really just dismiss it.
For the next three months, rumors stirred beneath the surface.
The higher-ranked pirate captains, no longer amused, grew interested.
Maps were redrawn, patrols shifted.
The eyes of the Thirty-Six Pirate Lords scoured these parts of the Lake looking for one man, one ship.
And on this clear, sunny day, three months after those unlucky fellows’ journeyed to the Yellow River...
Two Pirate fleets ’got lucky’.
Ten ships.
Over a thousand armed men.
Two of the lake’s most feared commanders
Third-Ranked - Captain Thunder Hand.
Fifth Ranked - The General of the Skies.
And so, under a cloudless sky, across waters that shimmered too beautifully for what was about to unfold, they surrounded the ship of Riveron Ashvale.
The sun blazed directly overhead, unchallenged in a cloudless sky. Its golden glare spread across the lake’s surface, so bright it hurt the eyes.
The water was glass-smooth, silent except for the distant creaking of wood and the thud of slow, deliberate war drums.
Ten enormous pirate ships loomed in formation.
Oh they were Dark beasts of timber and iron, their hulls thick with scars from countless skirmishes.
Each flew a red banner bearing two different symbols, all under the unified order of two of the best naval commanders.
The encirclement was perfect.
Swift and small outrider boats weaved between the goliaths like a swarm of hungry piranhas, locking down every escape route.
From a bird ’s-eye view, the entire flotilla looked like a tightening circular knot, drawing in toward the lone ship at its heart.
The knot was getting smaller and smaller.
That ship, sleek, pristine, graceful, floated without oars and folded sail.
She was a beauty in contrast to the dark beasts that surrounded her.
She didn’t move, she was already anchored. She was waiting.
On its polished deck stood two figures.
Riveron Ashvale, arms at his sides, black robes catching the wind, his expression unreadable beneath the blaze of sunlight.
Selene Virelyn, clad in flowing blue and silver, stood a pace behind him.
Mist clung to her bare shoulders like frost made flesh. Her veil had been pulled back. Today, the lake would see her face.
Surrounding them, the pirates beat their drums.
Flames licked at cannon mouths. Lines of archers lined the decks, every string pulled taut, every arrow tipped in poison or fire.
Two banners rose highest among them.
One bore a roaring beast of lightning, the Thunder Hand, third-ranked among the Thirty-Six Pirates.
His ship, Crackling Fang, led the western wing.
Beside him stood his second-in-command, Crimson Hook, a wiry man with a chain-hook gauntlet and half a face of burn scars.
Across the formation to the east, another banner displayed a shattered war drum and broken spear, the General of the Skies, ranked fifth among the Thirty-Six.
His warship, Storm Bastion, controlled the eastern wing.
By his side stood Iron Sky, a lean woman with a wicked halberd and a dull gaze of an old hooker.
Between them, eight other sub commanders commanded their own ships.
They were smaller in size, but no less bloodthirsty.
Surrounding Riven and Selene... many of them were veterans of naval warfare, ambushes, and mercenary raids.
They didn’t come for a battle.
No. They came to kill and plunder.
That’s what they believed. That’s their religion.
The entire Great Lake seemed to hold its breath.
Waiting for the light.
First to voice the conditions of surrender was the eastern flank.
The General of the Skies planted one foot on the railing, drew in a deep breath, and roared, his voice booming with energy and infusing the lake air with killing intent:
"Royal dog brat! Hear this!
As you see... You’re boxed in like a chicken in a coop! Hand over the boat, the silver, and your pride while you’re still breathing!
Leave the ship, get on a lifeboat, and we will let you be."
From another ship, a voice overlapped his, sharper, crueler.
"Give up the girl, too. Might make a better price than you!"
"KAKAKAKAKA"