Sea Reaper: The Legend of the Black-Eyed “Boy”

The Spanish king's plan to use assassination to intimidate pirates completely failed. The Red Lion was not only unafraid of threats, but thrived on challenge. That same month, five unlucky Spanish ships were looted and burned to ashes by Hayreddin.

You want war? Then war it is.

This brazen defiance enraged Charles V. His famously protruding Habsburg jaw—caused by a hereditary defect—was clenched so tightly it seemed stuck. He immediately ordered that all Spanish warships and merchant vessels open fire without warning on any ship that appeared to be a pirate, no questions asked.

But Hayreddin was a seasoned veteran of the sea. Since the age of fourteen, he'd followed his brothers across the Mediterranean. He knew every shoal, every island, every current and breeze as if it were his own backyard.

Fierce as a lion, cunning as a fox—no one could rival him in these blue waters.

Aboard the Sea Serpent, Captain's Quarters

"Leave French ships alone," Hayreddin announced to the assembled fleet commanders.

Unlike other pirate groups, the Red Lion was a tightly run organization. The ship captains acted as overseers, while Hayreddin held the title of Grand Admiral. No matter the raid or division of spoils, all decisions followed his command.

"If there's no other option, take a little. But no more than a third," Hayreddin added with a smile. "Be polite in the process, try not to kill, and be courteous to the ladies."

The captains exchanged puzzled glances. Pirates, too, had their own hierarchy of targets. Ships from allied nations were left alone; neutral ones were taxed; only enemies were looted mercilessly and left without witnesses. France, as a Catholic nation, should have been a valid target.

"As for the reason," Hayreddin leaned back with a confident grin, "trust me—this is for the Red Lion's long-term interests."

As a leader, he had never made a wrong call—neither in battle nor in the spoils. The captains respected him almost religiously, and though they didn't understand, they accepted his decision.

Once they left, Hayreddin's smile faded. Truthfully, this was just a trial. He wasn't sure things would go the way he hoped. Challenging the entire Christian world wasn't a decision to be taken lightly. But to achieve his goals, he had to take risks.

Enemies, alliances, contradictions, and manipulation... Hayreddin sat alone, lost in thought.

As dusk deepened and the sunset faded, stars began to rise over the sea. Hayreddin remained motionless until the room was cloaked in darkness. Only then did he stand, stretching his limbs.

And then—he thought of someone. A small figure, stretching like a lazy wildcat. The corners of his mouth curved upward instinctively.

He had planned the future of his fleet ten years ahead, yet he hadn't once considered that his little charge, his fearless assault captain, might change.

He had backup plans in case Nick died, but it never occurred to him that the flat-chested little runt would grow up.

In two years, her femininity would become more apparent. Even dressed as a man, her gender would be obvious. Life at sea was precarious. Sailors were superstitious—women on ships angered sea gods, menstrual blood brought bad luck...

Still, that could be managed. The sea only respected strength and fortune. Two hundred years ago, England's Lioness, Lady Bellive, shut every critic's mouth with sheer might.

But the real trouble came after. Hayreddin pinched the bridge of his nose.

A girl might be harmless when young, but grown-up, she'd cause chaos among a crew of men—fights, jealousy, disruption of cohesion. Or worse: she might fall in love, marry, have children, and then what? Sick leave, pregnancy leave, and finally, resignation. All that effort down the drain...

The more he thought, the more his head ached.

Like all seasoned leaders, he never doubted a woman's abilities. He just didn't trust the mess that came with them.

After brooding a while, Hayreddin laughed bitterly. None of this had even happened yet, and here he was, worrying himself to death. Those who love raising rare beasts fear most that their effort will be wasted. But the more unpredictable they are, the more you care.

Hayreddin decided to go on deck and let the sea breeze clear his mind.

He opened the door, walked through the corridor, climbed the stairs. The sailors on duty saluted respectfully. As he reached the uppermost deck, he spotted a small shadow huddled in a corner.

Under starlight, he saw the root of his trouble.

Nick had curled into herself, arms crossed around her scythe even in sleep. Her small body rose and fell with each steady breath. Only someone who lived under constant danger would sleep like this. Even skilled fighters showed vulnerabilities in their sleep.

Hayreddin took a few silent steps toward her. Before he could get within two meters, Nick woke instantly. Her grip on the scythe tightened, eyes wide with wariness. Her babyish face, filled with fierce alertness, looked strangely out of place.

"Whew… Cap-captain?"

Seeing who it was, she relaxed her grip and tried to steady her breath. "Don't scare me like that. I finally fell asleep." She rubbed her eyes, pouting.

There it was again—that expression. When she was tired, hungry, or broke, her usual stone-faced demeanor would fade, revealing a child's immaturity. After all, she was still a kid...

"Why are you sleeping here? Even in spring, the sea wind gets chilly at night."

"Too stuffy below..." Nick fumbled around and found her blanket bunched nearby. Space was precious aboard; even the captain of the assault team only had a six- or seven-square-meter cabin, windowless and damp.

"Oh? Don't tell me… you're afraid of the dark?" Hayreddin teased.

"No way! I just hate small, dark places," Nick protested. The ship, being wooden, had strict fire rules: no open flames after 8 p.m., except in the captain's quarters or the infirmary.

"Nice night, huh? Stars are really bright." Nick stood, stretched, and leaned on the railing, chin in hands, gazing at the sky. The Milky Way stretched across the heavens like a river of light. The black sky dome loomed above, vast and endless, evoking awe and humility.

Two prisoners look out the bars—one sees mud, the other sees stars.

Hayreddin suddenly remembered that saying.

They watched in silence for a while. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes. It'd been over half a month since they'd made landfall. Her energy was fading. Then he recalled her weird habit—she couldn't sleep without someone beside her.

He asked, not without mischief:

"Can't sleep alone? Why not call your deputy? I doubt he'd refuse."

"Goldie? He doesn't pay me, why should I let him sleep with me?" she replied casually. Lately, Karl had been acting strange—quiet, distant, as if something was on his mind.

"Pay, and you'd agree?"

"Depends how much. But I've got enough gold right now. Is that a problem?" Nick looked genuinely confused.

"Yes."

"What?"

"It affects the Red Lion's image. We don't do cheap flesh trade," Hayreddin quickly invented an excuse.

"Oh…" Nick frowned, then brightened. "Okay then, I'll just charge more!"

"..."

It felt like raising a rebellious daughter. Hayreddin had the sudden urge to spank her. Instead, he smacked her on the back of the head.

"Go find a proper place to sleep. If this mess costs us business, I'm docking your pay."

Nick stumbled forward from the slap, staring at his retreating back, baffled. She didn't do anything wrong—why was she always being threatened with wage cuts?