Chapter 15 Maximus
Maximus
Five Years Ago
The wind tore at my hair as I swung through the open air, suspended behind The Valiant by nothing but a safety line.
My stomach lurched with that perfect blend of terror and exhilaration that only sky-drops could provide.
The clouds parted around me, wisps of vapor caressing my face as I arced through them.
It was easy to forget that there was a behemoth in front of us—the heaviest assault warship that Sunada owned.
Five thousand feet below, the ocean stretched like a blue eternity.
“Adjust your line!” Eric’s voice cut through the rush of wind, his laughter carrying across the gap between us.
I tugged the mechanism on my harness, releasing more cable. The line extended smoothly, dropping me another twenty feet lower than the ship’s hull. Beside me, Eric did the same, descending to match my height.
We soared in tandem, two birds on invisible tethers.
Captain Eric Cunningham of The Valiant, the pride of House Eldritch’s fleet, was magnificent in flight.
The wind tousled his blond hair, and his eyes—those deep brown eyes I’d fallen into the first day I’d reported for duty—sparkled with unbridled joy.
He reached for me, swinging closer until our fingers brushed. We synchronized our movements, swinging together in a graceful aerial dance. Eric caught my hand, interlacing our fingers as we spun slowly beneath the massive airship.
“Beautiful day for flying,” he called over the wind, his smile radiant.
I squeezed his hand. “Every day is beautiful when you’re in the sky.”
Eric’s safety line allowed him to swing toward me, bringing our faces inches apart. “Every day is beautiful when I’m with you,” he murmured.
His lips found mine with familiar hunger.
The kiss was dizzying—partly from the sensation of floating, partly from the man himself.
I melted against him, one hand tangling in his windswept hair while the other clung to his harness.
For those perfect moments, nothing else existed but us and the endless sky.
“I’ve been waiting to do that all day,” he whispered. “Do you have any idea how distracting you are on the bridge, standing there looking so proper in your uniform?”
I laughed softly. “I believe that’s called military discipline, Captain.”
“It’s called torture.” His thumb traced my lower lip. “Having you so close and not being able to touch you.”
Five months we’d been together, and still his words could make my heart race like we were in freefall.
I’d never expected this—never imagined that my appointment as First Officer would lead to anything beyond professional advancement.
But one late night reviewing battle plans had turned into shared whiskey in his quarters, which had turned into confessions, and then…
“I have something for you,” Eric said, reaching into his pocket. He produced a small silver band, simple but elegant.
My breath caught. “Eric…”
“It’s not what you’re thinking.” He chuckled, taking my right hand and sliding the ring onto my finger. “Though perhaps someday. This is just a token. Something to remind you that no matter what happens, I’m yours and you’re mine.”
The metal felt cool against my skin, a perfect fit.
“You know why we can’t be open about this,” he continued, his expression growing serious. “The board would separate us immediately. Your career would suffer more than mine.”
“I know.” I twisted the ring on my finger. “I don’t mind the secrecy. Not if it means I get to serve with you.”
His smile returned. “Good. Because I need you, Max. Not just in my bed, but at my side. I trust you more than anyone.”
The words filled me with pride. Eric Cunningham, the rising star of the fleet, trusted me. Wanted me.
“We should get back,” he said reluctantly. “The cargo inspection is in an hour, and I need you to oversee the manifest verification.”
Reality crashed back like a cold wave. Duty called, and with it, the masks we wore.
I nodded. “Of course, Captain.”
His eyes softened at my formal tone. “Tonight, my quarters. I’ll have the galley prepare something special.”
“I’ll be there.”
With one last lingering look, he tugged twice on his harness, initiating his ascent. The mechanisms whirred as they pulled us upward. I followed his lead, letting my own line retract.
We landed side by side on the deck, the metal clips of our harnesses clicking as we detached from the safety lines.
With a single nod, Eric strode toward the ladder that would take him to the bridge, every inch the commanding officer once more.
I watched him go, fingers unconsciously twisting the new ring on my hand.
The cargo hold buzzed with activity as crewmen unloaded crates from the merchant vessel attached to The Valiant. I stood at the entrance, clipboard in hand, checking off items as they passed.
“Twelve barrels of preserved fish,” Torres called out, marking each barrel with chalk.
I frowned. “The manifest says six.”
Torres shrugged. “Twelve came aboard, sir.”
I made another note, adding it to the growing list of discrepancies. Three crates of textiles were also missing from the paperwork, plus we’d noted double the expected shipment of medicinal herbs. Either the merchant’s record-keeping was abysmal, or something wasn’t right.
“Lieutenant Commander.” A voice at my elbow made me turn.
Sail master Jenkins stood at attention. “Captain requests your presence on the bridge, sir.”
“Now? We’re in the middle of inspection.”
“He was most insistent, sir.”
I sighed, handing the clipboard to Torres. “Finish the count. Note any further discrepancies.”
The bridge of The Valiant was a marvel of engineering—a spacious command center with windows that offered a 180-degree view of the sky.
Eric stood at the helm, deep in conversation with a man I didn’t recognize.
The stranger wore expensive clothes in the latest Sunada fashion, his fingers adorned with gemstone rings.
Eric looked up as I entered. “Ah, Lieutenant Commander Blackwood. May I introduce Mr. Hadrian Wells, representative of the Merchant’s Guild.”
I saluted crisply, then extended my hand. “An honor, sir.”
Wells’ handshake was firm, his eyes calculating. “Captain Cunningham speaks highly of you. Says you’re the finest officer in the fleet.”
“The Captain is generous with his praise,” I replied diplomatically.
Eric clapped Wells on the shoulder with casual familiarity that seemed odd for a first meeting. “Mr. Wells has a proposition for us. One that could be quite beneficial to House Eldritch’s interests.”
Something in his tone made me uneasy. I’d served under Eric long enough to recognize when he was choosing his words carefully.
“I’ve just been reviewing the cargo manifests,” I said to Eric. “There seem to be significant discrepancies between what was expected and what’s actually being delivered.”
A flicker of annoyance crossed Eric’s face, quickly masked. “Yes, that’s part of what Mr. Wells is here to discuss. The Merchant’s Guild has been experiencing some… logistical challenges with their supply chains.”
Wells nodded solemnly. “Pirates have been particularly troublesome this season. We’ve lost nearly a third of our shipments to raiders on the eastern routes.”
“I wasn’t aware the eastern routes were experiencing increased pirate activity,” I said carefully. Our intelligence reports had indicated the opposite.
“It’s a recent development,” Wells replied smoothly. “Very recent.”
Eric stepped forward. “Mr. Wells has proposed a mutually beneficial arrangement. The Guild will provide us with intelligence on pirate movements, and in exchange, we’ll offer… flexibility… in our inspection protocols.”
I stared at him. “Flexibility, sir?”
“The nobility imposes ridiculous tariffs,” Wells interjected. “Taxes that ultimately hurt the common people when we’re forced to raise our prices. If certain shipments could bypass the more… stringent aspects of inspection…”
Now I understood. They were proposing we look the other way while they smuggled goods to avoid taxation.
“Captain, may I speak with you privately?” I kept my voice level.
Eric’s jaw tightened. “Mr. Wells, would you excuse us for a moment?”
Once Wells had left, I turned to Eric. “This is smuggling. If we’re caught—”
“We won’t be caught,” Eric cut me off. “And it’s not smuggling, it’s… creative logistics.”
“It’s illegal,” I insisted. “And it violates our oath to House Eldritch.”
Eric stepped closer. “Max, those taxes don’t improve the kingdom or help the people. They line the pockets of nobles who’ve never worked a day in their lives.”
I hesitated. He wasn’t wrong.
“The common people are starving while the nobility feasts,” Eric continued. “This arrangement helps ordinary merchants survive, helps keep prices affordable for the poor. Is that really so wrong?”
Put that way, it was harder to argue against. Still, uneasiness churned in my gut. “There are proper channels for changing tax policies—”
“Proper channels controlled by the same people benefiting from the current system.” Eric’s hand found my arm. “I’m not asking you to do anything terrible, Max. Just… look the other way sometimes. For the greater good.”
I glanced down at the silver ring on my finger, then back at Eric’s earnest expression. He believed what he was saying—I could see that. And I trusted him. Didn’t I?
“I don’t like this,” I reiterated.
“I know. And that’s what I love about you. Your moral compass, your integrity. I would never want to change that. But sometimes, Max, sometimes we need to bend the rules a little to truly serve justice.”
The way he looked at me then—like I was the only person who mattered—made my resolve weaken.
“I don’t like this,” I admitted. “But… I trust you. You know I do. Just… keep me informed about everything.”
Relief washed over his features. “I knew you’d understand. And, of course. Full transparency between us, always.”