Barbosa stood at the edge of the bustling docks of Raykala, watching as merchants, sailors, and travelers went about their business. He had coin in his pouch and a destination in mind, but the journey ahead was proving more difficult than expected. He had approached several merchants and caravan leaders, offering to pay his way to Faerook, but each time he was met with the same response. A shake of the head, a wary glance at his towering frame, and a polite but firm refusal. He was simply too large for their carts, and none were willing to make room for a man his size.

Frustrated but undeterred, he eventually found himself speaking with an older merchant named Doran, a seasoned trader who had made the trek to Faerook many times over. The grizzled man chuckled as Barbosa explained his predicament, shaking his head in amusement.

"Aye, lad, I can see why they turned ya down. You’d break an axle before we even left the city. But I can tell you this, if you’re set on reaching Faerook, the best route is the Imperial Road. Follow the eastern trade route out of Raykala, keep the mountains on your right, and go straight though Kaulia, Stay on the Eastern path. That’ll lead you straight to Faerook. It’s about fifteen hundred miles long on foot, and not an easy road." The merchant pulls out his calendar, "let's see here, today is the 5th of Iunius. That means if you hustle you could make to Faerook as early as the 25th of this month."

Barbosa nodded, grateful for the information. "And what of the dangers?"

Doran shrugged. "Bandits roam the roads, beasts lurk in the wilds, and there’s always the risk of bad weather. But the real danger? Loneliness. The road is long, and without a traveling party, the silence can eat at a man."

Barbosa thanked the merchant, purchased supplies with his remaining coin, and set out on foot, determined to reach Faerook.

The first few days of travel were manageable. The road was well-traveled near the city, and he occasionally passed merchants and travelers heading in both directions. But as he moved farther from Raykala, the road grew lonelier. The vast, open wilderness stretched on for miles in every direction, and the once-familiar sounds of civilization faded into the wind.

Barbosa was no stranger to hardship, but this was different. He was used to the constant presence of his war band, laughing, training, sharing meals by the fire. Now, there was only silence. At night, as he sat by his campfire, the memories crept in. The faces of his fallen brothers, the echoes of old battles, the weight of survival pressing down on him. He had fought for his freedom, but now, alone in the wilderness, he began to wonder; freedom from what? And for what?

Sleep came fitfully, haunted by dreams of his past. The war band, his mother’s face, the father he barely remembered. And now, the mystery of Lady Ella Starborn and the island that wasn’t on any map. The old sailor’s words still echoed in his mind, gnawing at him like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

During the day, he relied on the skills he had honed in the war band. He hunted, cleaned his kills, and prepared his food efficiently. He knew how to move through the wild, how to read the land, how to track. It was second nature, but without his brothers beside him, it felt hollow. As he skinned a rabbit one evening, he let out a breath and muttered to himself, "Almost miss the bastards." He had never been afraid of a fight, but this, this was a different kind of battle. The journey ahead was long, and the weight of his past clung to him like a shadow. But he pressed on, one step at a time, toward Faerook and the answers he sought.

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky a deep indigo, speckled with stars. Barbosa sat near his modest campfire, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows over his hulking form. His kill from earlier—a wild turkey—had been expertly cleaned and roasted over the fire. The scent of cooked meat still lingered in the air, even after he had eaten his fill. With a satisfied grunt, he leaned back against a fallen log, his broad shoulders shifting against the rough bark. His massive hand lazily gripped the last remaining drumstick, a leftover he hadn’t the energy to finish. The warmth of the fire and the long day’s journey tugged at his weary muscles, and soon, sleep took him.

But Barbosa wasn't alone; He had company, Venya had been watching him for some time. From the moment she saw the lone traveler making camp, she had known he would be an easy mark. He was big and imposingly so, but men that size rarely paid enough attention to the little things. And she was very good at being one of those little things. She slipped into his camp like a shadow, her movements silent, precise. His coin pouch sat next to his pack, a tempting prize practically begging to be taken. With practiced ease, she retrieved it, testing the weight in her palm, Heavy. A good haul. But as she turned to leave, the scent of roasted turkey hit her full force, making her belly twist painfully. She had gone without food for nearly two days, and the rich, savory aroma made her mouth water. Her gaze flicked to his hand—the drumstick still loosely held between his thick fingers. Her mind warred between self-control and hunger, but hunger won. Venya crept closer, her movements so precise that even the crackling fire couldn’t mask her silence. As she reached for the drumstick, just inches from her prize, a massive hand shot out like a striking viper. Her wrist was caught in an iron grip. Venya inhaled sharply, but rather than panic, she smiled, emerald eyes flashing mischievously as she met his gaze.

"Naughty, naughty," Barbosa rumbled, his deep voice thick with amusement. Venya tilted her head, her smirk never wavering.

"Well, if you didn't want to share, you shouldn't have made it smell so damn good." She tested his grip, but it was unrelenting. Undeterred, she leaned in just slightly, her voice turning to a playful purr.

"Though, if you wanted me to stay the night, handsome, all you had to do was ask." Barbosa arched a brow, his expression unreadable for a long moment. Then, to her surprise, he let out a low chuckle.

"You stole my coin, didn’t you?" Venya gave an exaggerated gasp, placing her free hand on her chest.

"Me? Steal? I'm wounded by the accusation!" His eyes flicked to her hip, where his pouch now rested.

"Uh-huh." She winked. "Alright, alright. Maybe a little." Barbosa exhaled through his nose, clearly debating whether to crush her wrist or let her go. She simply grinned up at him, utterly unafraid.

"Tell you what," she purred. "Let me go, and I'll make it worth your while."

"Oh? And how’s that?" half curious and half cautious barbose responded.

"For one, I won’t stab you in your sleep." Barbosa let out a deep, booming laugh.

"And two..." She leaned in just a fraction more, her voice like silk. "I know things. About the roads ahead, the people, the dangers. A big man like you? Stands out. You’ll need someone who knows how to go unseen. Someone clever." Barbosa considered her for a long moment, then almost begrudgingly loosened his grip.

"The coin stays with me," he rumbled.

"Fair enough." She smirked, rubbing her wrist. "But the drumstick? That’s mine now." She plucked the food from his fingers, twirling it dramatically before taking a victorious bite. Barbosa shook his head, exhaling a low chuckle.

She paused for a min to take a few bite of the turkey leg. "So what do I call you, Besides handsome?" in a flirtatious yet confident tone.

Barbosa leaned back, the flickering firelight casting long shadows across his massive frame. His deep voice carried a note of amusement, but there was a challenge in it too. "Depends, you planning to sweet-talk me out of more than just my dinner?"

Venya let a smirk slip before catching herself, quickly pulling it back in. If she wasn’t careful, her usual flirtations—the ones that gave her the upper hand—might just backfire. Something about the way he looked at her, like he wasn’t fooled for a second, made her wary. Not of him, but of herself.

She straightened, masking her moment of hesitation. "No, really. What’s your name, stranger?"

"Barbosa," he said, his tone losing some of its teasing edge. "Yours?"

Venya pushed herself to her feet, stepping around to the other side of the fire. The flames flickered between them, making her expression unreadable. She flashed him a grin, mischief dancing in her eyes. "If you’re lucky, you’ll know by morning."

With that, she stretched out on the opposite side of the fire, using her cloak as a makeshift blanket. Barbosa let out a low chuckle, shaking his head, but said nothing more.

As the night stretched on, the fire burned low, and Barbosa eventually drifted into a light sleep, his massive frame still as a mountain. Venya, however, stayed awake, watching him in the dim glow of the embers. He was dangerous in more ways than one. Men like him strong, confident, the kind that didn’t fall easily for tricks weren’t just rare. They were trouble. She should leave. That’s what she did. That’s what she’d always done. Slipping soundlessly to her feet, she moved toward him, her fingers working with practiced ease as she lifted the coin purse from his belt. Easy. Almost too easy. Then she hesitated. Her eyes drifted to his face strong features softened slightly in sleep, his breathing deep and steady.

"Damn it. " she whispered to herself.

Before she could second-guess herself, she pulled a small scrap of parchment from her satchel, scrawled her name in elegant script, and pressed a kiss to the paper, leaving the faintest trace of crimson. She set it where his coin purse had been. Then, like a shadow in the night, she was gone.

Morning came with the scent of damp earth and dying embers. Barbosa stretched, blinking away sleep, before instinctively reaching for his coin pouch. His fingers found only parchment. His brow furrowed as he picked it up, unfolding it carefully. One word stared back at him in flowing ink: "VENYA" Below it, the faint mark of a kiss. Barbosa exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head as he let the paper slip between his thick fingers. She’d taken his money. Of course she had. Yet, despite himself, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Clever little fox,” he muttered, tucking the note away before standing to face the road ahead. For next few days not much