As the ship sailed back toward Zul'Aman, Zul'ra did more than hand out rings and have everyone swear their oaths. He also made an effort to talk with his classmates, telling them about Zul'Aman's history to ease the loneliness of the voyage and, along the way, bring them closer together.
All the students had received some history lessons in Zandalar, though those lessons had been mixed with a fair amount of propaganda. Having abruptly left that glorious golden kingdom to return to the shabby, impoverished Zul'Aman, each of them felt a trace of doubt and uncertainty.
Zul'ra helped his classmates dispel their doubts and uncertainty, brought them together, and made sure they formed a good impression of him, laying the groundwork for the road ahead.
The ship followed its course, but a small mishap occurred along the way. In the early hours of the morning, just before they reached Booty Bay in the South Sea, they heard the distant boom of cannon fire.
Amid the morning waves, the sudden cannon blast shattered the quiet of meditation. Zul'ra left the spirit world and hurried onto the deck. Several Troll sailors were standing there, staring out at the distant sea.
The sky was still dim in the early morning, and visibility was poor. Zul'ra followed the sailors' gazes across the water and saw orange-red flashes flickering over the dark sea in the distance. Each flash was followed by a booming report.
"Those are cannon flashes." Zul'ra watched the fire flicker across the dark water and instantly recognized the light of cannon fire. But the sea battles between the Horde and the Alliance should have ended. Who was fighting out there?
The orange-red flashes in the distance did not last long. When the booming stopped, the sea fell silent and dark once more. Since dawn was approaching, they had already extinguished the lights aboard their ship, so the combatants had not spotted them. Zul'ra had no idea who the two sides were, who had won, or whether the victors had left.
"What should we do?" Zul'ra asked, pulling a Troll sailor over.
"We're just fishermen. We don't know," the Troll sailor replied, shaking his head helplessly.
"Can we go around that stretch of sea?" Zul'ra felt a headache coming on. The ship he was aboard wasn't one of Zandalar's Golden Warships, but a battered Zul'Amani sailboat. It couldn't fight, and its sailors were nothing but clueless yokels who knew how to fish.
"What happened?" Malacrass called from inside the ship.
"We can't go around it. If we stray off course, we'll be at sea for several more days. We're running low on fresh water and vegetables. We have to reach Booty Bay to restock." The Troll sailor glanced toward the sound of Malacrass's voice, then answered Zul'ra carefully.
"Then all we can do is pray the combatants have left and hope they don't spot us." Zul'ra watched the stretch of sea drawing ever nearer and gritted his teeth. Then he took a gemstone ring from around his neck and held it in his hand.
"What exactly happened?" Malacrass came out of the ship and walked over to Zul'ra on the deck.
"There was a battle between two unknown sides in the waters ahead. We don't know whether they've left, but we have to pass through there." Zul'ra briefly explained the situation to him.
"Can we go around that stretch of sea?" Malacrass's expression changed.
"We're running low on supplies." Zul'ra shifted the tusk at the corner of his mouth.
"Wake everyone up." Malacrass looked toward the stretch of sea drawing closer and barked an order, rousing everyone aboard. Whatever awaited them, being awake was better than being asleep.
By the time Malacrass had woken everyone, the ship had entered the area and the sky was beginning to brighten. Zul'ra looked at the broken planks floating beneath the ship and the scene across the water. After scanning the surroundings, he couldn't help feeling they had been lucky.
"We got lucky." Zul'ra looked out over the sea and felt a little relief. His hand, which had been gripping the ring, ready to slip it onto his finger at any moment, relaxed. The open water held nothing that could threaten them now, only broken planks and scattered wreckage.
"It looks like they were beaten badly." Malacrass watched a ship sinking in the distance, twitched his nose, and began looking around, greatly relieved.
"The victors left in a hurry, too. Can you tell whose ships those are?" Zul'ra glanced at the shattered, sinking vessels. One side had lost, and the defeated ships were going down in miserable shape, while the victors had swiftly departed. They had been lucky; if the victors had still been circling nearby, they would have been in trouble.
"They seem to belong to the Goblins. That flag has two crossed wrenches on it—the mark of the Bilgewater Cartel." Malacrass studied the flags on the sinking ships, then his eyes widened in surprise.
"The Bilgewater Cartel's Goblins?" Zul'ra looked at Malacrass's astonished expression and stared in surprise himself. The fleet that had been sunk belonged to the Bilgewater Cartel. Was this Gallywix's fleet?
"Yes. I wouldn't mistake that mark. The Horde has traded with them before. A bunch of greedy little green men. I remember they sold weapons to us and supplies to the Alliance. I wonder who managed to beat them!" Malacrass spoke with both contempt and a hint of schadenfreude.
"Look, there are survivors over there. Should we save them?" Zul'ra had been listening to Malacrass when he spotted a moving figure aboard a small dinghy in the distance.
"Those greedy bastards can't see anything but gold." Malacrass followed Zul'ra's pointing finger and shook his head. There would be no reward for a rescue.
"Hey! Kind strangers passing by, please come save us!"
"Please save us!"
"Please!"
"Please, come save me!" Cries for help drifted across the sea in every direction.
"Let's save them. We don't need them to remember our kindness. We can find out what happened in that sea battle, then ask about the Alliance's latest intelligence. The Goblins always have plenty of useful information!" Zul'ra felt sorry for the people calling for help and made his suggestion to Malacrass.
"Once we get the details, we'll drop them off in Booty Bay. The rest is none of our concern, and we don't need to get involved!"
"I hope they can tell us something useful." Malacrass looked at Zul'ra, thought it over for a moment, then nodded. The Goblins might be incredibly greedy, but they might also have some useful information.
They reached an agreement, and Malacrass ordered the ship to stop. They began pulling the Goblins from the water. The little green men saw the rescue ship and were overjoyed at first, but when they spotted the green-skinned Trolls aboard, they all felt the urge to jump back into the water. They managed to hold themselves back, but their green faces had turned a deep shade of green.
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