Impressed into the Navy

You barely recognized the gaudy naval insignia on the letter before a squad of saber-toting MPs hailed you from the crowd. Shit. At least you knew how to swim.

Sort of.

The soldiers don’t speak much as they escort you to the docks, which you don’t mind. By the time you reach the barnacle encrusted galleon that rocks on the waves with the majesty of a choleric pelican, the cargo is nearly loaded.

You approach the ship and a fat, pasty merchant calls you over.

“You there, with the rags and such, you’re late so i’ll tell you what the rest of the crew already knows.”

You nod in acknowledgment.

“This cargo contains some of our finest foreign acquisitions [aka stolen goods] and is to be protected at all costs, a single crate is worth your pathetic life tenfold. You are escorting it as your Empire demands. Needless to say, should you fail you will all swing by the neck. Dismissed.”

Disheartening, but frankly par for the course. The ‘merchandise’ was almost certainly loot stolen from other nations, and someone was going to want it back. Hopefully they didn’t have boats too.

As you near the end of the dock, you notice a few passerby's furtive gestures towards the ship before their disappearance down alleys and such. Your hopes told you to dismiss it as nothing. Your gut told you that it was going to be a short voyage.

You board the ship with a mild sense of curiosity about your intending doom, and a slight itch in the back of your neck.