Yara's mind buzzed with thoughts as she followed Basilisk through the Col. His response to her admission about not being able to read was surprising. She had expected ridicule or disappointment, but his pragmatic acceptance and promise to teach her added a new layer to her understanding of him. She couldn't afford to underestimate him.
The sly look he gave her made her bristle internally, but she kept her expression neutral. The challenge he presented—understanding the laws and rules of the Armada without being able to read—was clear. It was a calculated move to push her towards learning, to integrate her into this new life while dangling the possibility of bettering herself. She nodded silently, acknowledging his command to follow.
As they entered the storeroom, Yara's eyes darted around, taking in the neat rows and organized shelves. She noted the hot springs he mentioned, a small comfort in this stark new reality. The idea of hot springs brought a brief flash of warmth to her otherwise cold thoughts. Life here might have some advantages, but she would have to be cautious and smart about how she navigated it.
When he turned to the right, she followed closely, her eyes watching his every move. As he selected a tiger coat for her bedding, she remained silent, but her thoughts raced. She didn't miss the way he assessed her size with a glance before choosing the coat. His efficiency and control over the situation were clear, and she had to respect that, even if she resented it.
Yara's heart skipped a beat when he moved to the food section, her instincts flaring at the sight of the dried meat. She remembered why she was here, and the urge to take something surged within her. But Basilisk's watchful eyes and the swift movements with which he packed the bag reminded her of her place. She would have to be patient and wait for the right moment to assert her freedom.
As they exited the storeroom, Basilisk thrust the bag of bedding and food at her. “Carry,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for disobedience. She took the items without hesitation, feeling the weight of her new responsibilities settle onto her shoulders.
“Yes, Warlord,” she responded, her voice steady. She would carry these items, learn the ways of the Armada, and find her place within this new structure. But beneath the surface, her spirit remained unbroken. She would endure and adapt, all the while keeping her ultimate goal in mind: finding Eirik and reclaiming her freedom. For now, she would comply, but the fire within her burned bright, ready for the moment she could rise again.
