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When Menelcar awoke, the king was already gone. He stood up, stretching stiff muscles unused to the hammock and the rolling of the ship. The night had not been uncomfortable, precisely, but in no way did this change the fact that he strongly preferred solid ground. He dressed quickly before leaving the cabin to find Telumehtar.
He soon spotted the king talking with Hereric up on the quarter deck. Though he did not particularly care for the company of the captain on this morning, he went to join them anyway. After all, if he would not go anywhere that the captain was, he would be letting the captain control him in a backwards sort of way.
“Good morning, m’lord,” Menelcar greeted as he approached. After an almost unnoticeable pause, he added with an acknowledging nod, “Captain.” A subtle gesture, though one the captain might not miss.
Abruptly, he noticed the small dark wisp on the horizon – a cloud? No, the day was clear and sunny, and this was but one dark cloud. Smoke then? Smoke – Pelargir… Menelcar felt a slight sinking in his stomach that did not come from the ship’s rocking. “So help us,” he murmured. Then slightly louder, “Is that smoke?”
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