Chapter 19: Arrival at Windward Port

Ever since that conversation, Aisha and my relationship seemed to have grown somewhat stiff.

Perhaps realizing her own lapse in composure, our interactions became markedly less frequent, even as we continued our respective duties.

These days persisted for two or three days, until the long-awaited arrival at Windward Port.

In the soft glow of dawn, our caravan drew ever closer to Windward Port.

The contours of the harbor city gradually sharpened, revealing the distinct colors of fishing boats at the docks, their white sails hoisted on masts shimmering under the morning sun.

This was a bustling and prosperous port city, strategically situated along the Eastern Continent’s busiest maritime trade route.

This route not only connected the source of high-quality metal ores from Volcanic Island, distributing them to cities across both the Eastern and Western Continents.

It also served as an irreplaceable nexus for trade between the Eastern and Western Continents.

By virtue of this unparalleled commercial standing, Windward Port had undeniably become a pivotal town within the Icy Wind Territory.

The Icy Wind Territory, in turn, had leveraged the city’s ceaseless fiscal revenue to burgeon into the formidable power it was on the Eastern Continent today.

Compared to this thriving metropolis, even Eagle Eye City, the ancestral seat of the Viper family, paled in comparison.

It was precisely for this reason that Lady Kachel had more than once grumbled about Lord Axas relocating here, no longer wishing to endure the tedious rural life at Icy Wind Manor in Eagle Eye City.

However, due to strategic considerations, Lord Axas had not agreed.

Now, seeing Windward Port with my own eyes, I finally understood the intensity of Lady Kachel’s desire to relocate back then.

The buildings gleaming under the morning sun and the shimmering expanse of the sea exuded an endless charm.

The process of entering the city was remarkably smooth.

With the Viper family’s emblem displayed, the guards at the gate simply conducted a cursory inspection before allowing us entry.

Navigating through several bustling streets and a steadily thickening crowd, we finally reached the docks, where rows of neatly arranged sailing ships awaited.

These sailing ships varied greatly in size; the larger ones resembled colossal marine beasts resting with lowered heads, appearing quite formidable, while the smaller ones seemed as convenient as carriages ready to depart at any moment.

Soon, I noticed an elderly man approaching to greet our caravan.

The man appeared to be around 50 years old, his skin deeply tanned and weathered by sun and sea winds, yet his sturdy frame stood remarkably tall in the morning light.

His full beard was streaked with gray, but his deep-set eyes remained sharp and bright, gleaming with the unique tenacity and wisdom of a seasoned sailor.

In the faint morning mist, his dark blue coat and golden buttons stood out vividly, a stark contrast to the other sailors around him, clearly denoting a distinguished status.

The man steadily approached the carriage where the Young Miss was seated, removed his hat, placed it over his chest, and with his feet together, bowed deeply, his gaze humbly cast downwards.

“Esteemed Miss Cassina, you must be weary from your journey. I am Captain Thor, entrusted by Mayor Andrew to escort you,” the captain, who introduced himself as Thor, declared in a resonant voice.

Soon, the carriage curtain was drawn aside, revealing a delicate face.

I could tell it was the Young Miss, having just finished reapplying her makeup, yet even with her careful embellishments, the fatigue around her eyes was difficult to conceal.

After all, being confined to the vicinity of the carriage for several days was undoubtedly a torment for someone as active as her.

Due to the Young Miss’s soft voice and the slight distance, I couldn’t distinctly hear what she said to Captain Thor.

However, judging by her extremely impatient demeanor, she was likely urging him to swiftly transport her party to Moon Island.

Indeed, shortly after, Captain Thor approached the cargo carriage where we maids were situated.

He maintained his polite demeanor.

“Ladies, you’ve toiled hard on this journey. Our Long Wind Fleet will now assist you with unloading and transshipment. My lads are quick-handed and strong, working with great efficiency. However, we’ll still need your help with inventory and organization.”

It was evident that Captain Thor was a gentle man. I rarely saw such a polite superior treat us maids with such courtesy.

“Oh, there’s no need for such formality, Captain. Why be so polite with these servants?” Maid Leader Bena purred, her eyes narrowed like a fox, as she sidled up to him and began chatting incessantly, her words laced with flattery.

Yet, she seemed to forget that she, too, was one of the ‘servants’ she spoke of.

Having no interest in witnessing her sycophantic display, Aisha and I disembarked, preparing for the upcoming unloading work.

Packing these belongings onto the carriage had required the efforts of most of the manor’s maids; now, transferring them to the ship would undoubtedly be another massive undertaking.

Fortunately, just as Captain Thor had stated, his sailors were nimble and robust. Dozens of strong men swarmed the carriage, and in no time, they had nearly finished unloading the luggage that Aisha and I, along with the other maids, had spent half a day organizing.

While marveling at their efficiency, I also recognized the hardship they endured.

The sailors’ skin was deeply tanned, likely from the relentless sea and sun. Their rough hides were covered in sunburned cracks and pronounced wrinkles.

Under the grueling labor, sweat streamed down their foreheads and cheekbones, mixing with salt and dust, leaving streaks of white on their faces.

Their coarse linen shirts and trousers slowly became saturated, clinging to their muscular bodies, heavy and sticky.

This also meant that as the sailors moved, the air was thick with their pungent body odor, a scent that, combined with the sea breeze, fish, and the musty smell of wood, assailed the senses, threatening to overwhelm one’s olfactory perception entirely.

“Ugh—”

I saw Maid Mia clutch her nose, retching in disgust as she kept a wide distance from these men.

She was the maid closest to Maid Leader Bena, essentially the old woman’s half-lackey.

“What are you staring at?”

Noticing my gaze, Mia glared at me with annoyance, her tone imperious as she commanded, “You two, why aren’t you hurrying to direct those smelly men? What are you standing there for, dumbfounded? Don’t you worry Sister Bena will punish you?”

Logically, assisting with the unloading should have been a task for all the maids.

But clearly, Maid Leader Bena had shirked her duties by abusing her position, and Mia, disgusted by the smell, wanted to push her own task onto Aisha and me.

However, given her relationship with the Maid Leader, the latter would likely not pursue the matter.

I had long grown accustomed to such things, but the person beside me was different.

Indeed, before I could even speak, Aisha retorted with a snide remark, “What about you? Too busy licking that old woman’s ass with your mouth?”

“You—”

Mia seemed unprepared for Aisha’s blunt sarcasm, let alone the vulgarity of her words. Her face contorted with fury, but she was momentarily speechless.

Aisha didn’t give her a chance to respond. She simply turned and went to assist the sailors with their work.

Knowing there was no point in standing there and not wanting to be caught in Mia’s wrath, I also found a team of sailors to help.

Seeing my arrival, the sailors all looked utterly surprised. They paused their work, their gazes fixed intently on me.

Their eyes were those of predators—fierce and direct.

The scent emanating from them was intensely masculine, assaulting my nostrils with brute force.

This potent odor made me feel a little nauseous, but perhaps because I was in a woman’s body now, my legs felt somewhat weak, my head a little dizzy. My already anxious heart seemed to pound even more fiercely, so intensely that I could clearly hear its beat.

“Haaah…”

As I caught my breath, I suddenly understood some women—the weaker, defenseless ones. I understood why they became so nervous and afraid when facing men.

It turned out that merely being looked at in such a way, a woman’s body would produce a sensation—a very direct, terrifying feeling:

That she stood no chance of resistance at all…