Kaelo walked beside Orbelo as he guided the prisoners down below, each pirate secured in their own cell, faces pale and eyes wide with fear. Five in total, including their captain, and all of them wary, watching for any hint of mercy or weakness. Kaelo noted the tension in their shoulders, the trembling of their hands, and thought how easily a man's courage could vanish in the face of real danger.
The first naval engagement had gone better than he could have hoped, though not without flaw. A few of their own crew had been injured, quickly tended by Jon's steady hands, but Kaelo couldn't ignore it. He had drilled these men for a month, bar recruits, and yet a minor skirmish had still cost them.
Jon had prepared meticulously, of course. The clay pots made in Pentos, the strategy for fire and arrows, the timing of every command, everything had played out perfectly. Most of the pirates were dead before they even reached the Wayfarer, and those few who had tried to board were quickly cut down. Still, Kaelo's eyes narrowed. This battle should have been cleaner.
He knew what he had to do. The crew would need to be pushed harder, trained with sharper discipline. Mistakes like these cannot be allowed to happen again.
It had been an hour or two, Kaelo had lost count, before Jon finally came below deck to see the prisoners. Orbelo had spent the time with a book on administration, flipping pages with the calm of a man untouched by the battle that had occurred. Kaelo, however, could think of little else. The fight, the mistakes the crew had made, the minor injuries that should never have happened, all of it weighed on him. He had been tasked with their training; their failures were his to bear. He would drill them harder, push them further, and ensure nothing like this happened again.
Jon arrived, Ghost padding silently at his side, the direwolf's white fur almost glowing in the dim below-deck light. Jon himself looked transformed from the boy Kaelo had first met aboard the Sea Serpent. His hair, longer now, was pulled back into a rough bun at the nape of his neck, strands loose along the temples, giving him a harsher, more commanding presence. His face had sharpened with time and experience, and he had grown taller, once shorter than Kaelo, now matching him nearly stride for stride.
The pirates grew restless as they saw Jon and Ghost enter.
"Have they said anything?" Jon asked, scratching behind Ghost's ears as he pinned the prisoners with his stare.
"Nothing," Kaelo replied. "I suppose we'll have to take those words from them, forcibly."
Jon stepped closer to the captain. Ghost's growl rumbled low. The captain's eyes darted between the wolf and Jon, searching for mercy where there was none.
"Who do you work for?" Jon asked, voice calm but slicing through the tension.
The captain swallowed, throat tight. "Myr… honest merchants. Nothing more."
Kaelo's brow furrowed. The lie was obvious, but Jon said nothing. He let the silence stretch. Ghost shifted closer, hackles rising.
"Ghost," Jon murmured.
The wolf moved like a shadow, teeth bared. A scream erupted as Ghost struck the nearest prisoner. Blood pooled on the deck. The remaining four froze, faces draining of color, muscles rigid with terror.
"Answer truthfully," Jon said, voice flat, eyes alight with cold fury.
The captain gasped, lips trembling. "We… we follow a pirate cult. They worship a god… tell us eating humans gives strength… we collect the blood, bring it to the leader… that's all I know, I swear!"
Kaelo stiffened. Cannibalism. Religious fanaticism. The horror hung thick in the stale, dim air. Ghost growled low, responding to Jon's fury. Jon's face remained calm, expression blank, but Kaelo could see the fire in his eyes.
"Where is this cult based? Who leads it?" Jon pressed.
"The Stepstones… three main camps across smaller islands… the leader calls himself the Crimson Maw. He wears a crown of human teeth, drinks from skull-cups," the captain stammered, eyes darting frantically.
"How many follow him?"
"Hundreds, maybe a thousand across all the islands. Warriors, ships, priests who perform the blood rituals." The captain's eyes darted frantically between Jon and Ghost. "They've been growing stronger, taking more ships, more... more people for the ceremonies. Please, I've told you everything!"
Kaelo felt bile rise in his throat. A thousand fanatics spread across the Stepstones, preying on innocent merchants and fishermen. How many had already died screaming on their altars? How many families had been torn apart to feed their twisted god?
Jon's eyes narrowed. "What of the sellsword companies that vanished in these waters last season?"
The pirate captain's face twisted with terror. He hesitated, then the words tumbled out in a rush.
"They… they never stood a chance. Some were taken prisoner. The rest…" His voice cracked. "Food for the Maw. The ones kept alive were given a choice, eat, or be eaten. Once you taste it, once you join the rituals, you… crave it. You can't go back. That's why no one leaves. Ever."
A silence heavier than any cannon fire filled the hold. Even hardened sailors flinched. Kaelo felt the bile rise in his throat, imagining good men twisted into monsters, broken by hunger and dark magic until they begged for human flesh.
Jon said nothing at first. His face was stone, blank as ice, but Kaelo caught the glint in his eyes, rage, cold and merciless.
At last, Jon spoke, each word like a blade drawn slow. "So they're lost. Not dead, not living. Just slaves to their hunger." He let the truth hang in the air, every man forced to feel the weight of it.
The captain sobbed. "We had no choice. None of us did. You can't understand—"
Jon studied the captain for a long moment, his expression unreadable. When he finally spoke, his words carried the weight of absolute judgment. "You ate people. You drank their blood. You served a monster who wears the teeth of his victims as a crown."
The captain nodded frantically, tears streaming down his face. "Yes, yes, but we had no choice! The Crimson Maw would have killed us if we refused. You don't understand what he's capable of!"
"I understand enough," Jon replied coldly. "You chose to live as monsters rather than die as men. That choice has consequences."
Kaelo watched Jon's face, seeing something dark and final settle in his features. He had witnessed Jon's capacity for mercy and his willingness to spare those who deserved it, but these men had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed.
"Bring them up," Jon commanded, his voice carrying across the hold. "Block them on the deck."
The prisoners' eyes widened in terror as they realized their fate. They began to struggle against their bonds, pleading and screaming, but the crew moved swiftly under Kaelo and Orbelo's direction. Strong hands dragged the cannibals from their cells, hauling them up the narrow stairs toward the sunlight above.
Kaelo followed, his mind still reeling from what he had learned. The Stepstones had always been dangerous, but now they harbored something far worse than common pirates. The Crimson Maw and his followers represented a threat that went beyond simple theft and murder. They were a plague that would spread if not cut out completely.
On deck, the crew formed a rough circle around the prisoners. Some of the men looked excited at the prospect of justice, while others appeared uneasy. Kaelo understood both reactions. These cannibals deserved death, but executing prisoners in cold blood was never easy for decent men.
Jon stood silent for a moment, letting the weight of judgment settle over the scene. The sun blazed overhead, casting harsh shadows across the deck. Ghost remained at his side, white fur gleaming, teeth still bared in a perpetual snarl.
"These men served the Crimson Maw," Jon announced, his voice carrying clearly across the deck.
"They ate human flesh and drank human blood in the name of their god. They have told us of camps scattered across the Stepstones, of a thousand followers who prey on innocent people."
A murmur ran through the crew. Some spat in disgust, while others gripped their weapons tighter. The horror of cannibalism was universal, something that crossed all cultural lines.
"They will die," Jon continued, drawing his sword. The steel sang as it cleared the scabbard, gleaming in the sunlight. "Not as men, for they forfeited that right when they chose to become monsters. But their deaths will serve a purpose. They will remind us what we fight against, and why we must be stronger."
The first pirate was forced to his knees. He looked up at Jon with wide, terrified eyes, but found no mercy in that cold stare. Jon's blade flashed in the sunlight, a clean strike that ended the man's life before a scream could form. The body crumpled to the deck, blood spreading across the worn planks.
The crew watched in silence as Jon moved to the next prisoner. Each execution was swift and decisive, no prolonged suffering or theatrical cruelty. It was justice, cold and final. Ghost moved silently beside his master, ensuring none could escape their fate.
When it was over, five bodies lay still on the deck. The crew began to move, some fetching water to wash away the blood, others preparing canvas to wrap the corpses. They would be thrown overboard before sunset, sent to whatever dark god they had served in life.
Kaelo approached Jon, who stood cleaning his blade with methodical precision. "The Stepstones," he said quietly. "We can't leave this threat to grow unchecked."
Jon nodded, sheathing his sword. "The Crimson Maw and his followers must be destroyed completely," Jon said. "But not with armies. That would take months to organize, and cost too many lives."
Orbelo joined them, his usually calm demeanor slightly shaken. "A thousand cannibals across multiple islands. Even if we gathered every loyal ship in these waters, it would be a bloody campaign."
Jon's eyes narrowed as he stared toward the horizon, his mind already working through possibilities. "We don't fight the thousand. We kill the head, and the body dies with it. A small force, moving in darkness. Strike at their main stronghold, eliminate the Crimson Maw and his inner circle, burn their ships and supplies."
Kaelo felt his pulse quicken. "An assassination mission? Jon, that's incredibly dangerous. We'd be vastly outnumbered."
"Numbers don't matter if we strike fast and silent," Jon replied. "I have moved unseen before. Take out the leadership, destroy their base, scatter the survivors. Then we send word to every major port, every naval commander. Tell them where to find the remnants. Let them finish what we started."
"It's audacious," Orbelo admitted, though his scholarly mind was already analyzing the plan. "Cut off the head of the serpent, then let others hunt down the scattered pieces. The free cities would be eager to clear their shipping lanes of such threats."
Jon nodded. "Exactly. The Crimson Maw has made himself a target that every civilized nation will want eliminated. We just need to give them the opportunity."
Kaelo felt a grim satisfaction settle in his chest. The revelation of the cannibal cult had shaken him, but Jon's determination gave him hope. They would need time to prepare, to gather the resources necessary for such an undertaking, but it would happen.
As the crew continued their work, disposing of the bodies and cleaning the deck, Kaelo found himself thinking of all the innocent people who had fallen to these monsters. Merchants sailing to distant ports, fishermen trying to feed their families, travelers seeking passage across the narrow sea. All of them had become prey for the Crimson Maw's twisted religion.