1

Some three hundred feet below the spires of the Royal Castle of Efastopol, in an inn built at the base of the cliff, Major Uleison opened his eyes with a quick gasp. He wasn’t in the bed, but seated on a simple chair in the corner of the room, his back firmly against the western wall. Close by to his right was a square window, whence the pale light of early morning shone through. Staring at that ray of light, the wizard took a moment to regain his bearings and calm his agitated breathing.

“Is something wrong?” the Major’s adjutant asked, stirring at the sudden reaction from a nearby seat.

When sharing senses with a familiar, it was customary to have another person at hand, to keep watch. Anything could happen and the caster would only have limited awareness of what went on about his real body, while his consciousness was away. Never mind anything dramatic like an enemy attack, simply falling off your chair and hitting your head could result in serious injuries. Readjusting to his own body with rehearsed mental steps, Uleison produced no answer, but got up and reached for his staff in the corner.

“I must see the Marshal,” he said, tension in his usually calm voice.

Escorted by his adjutant, Uleison left the inn, which had been reserved for Imperial soldiers since the start of the occupation. They took horses and rode to the harbor, where the naval command had yet to get to work. Despite the misleading brightness of the summer morning, it was still fairly early.

Knowing he would find the Marshal aboard the Thule, Uleison dismounted at the dock, parted with his escort, and went the rest of the way on foot. How convenient it would’ve been, to possess methods of instantaneous travel, like elven magicians. Such arcane wonders were unfortunately beyond the minds of mortal men. Major Uleison was already fifty-two, fast nearing retirement age at fifty-five, and he felt his years, especially in mornings. Still, he had to wonder if the higher ups would actually let him go by the standard date. Casters of his potential were rare and in high demand in the armed forces. They would want to make full use of his knowledge, for as long as humanly possible. Perhaps he should fake some regression of ability and get himself dismissed early? Not that the urgent matters at hand allowed such vanity. His duty to his country weighed slightly more than personal convenience.

Uleison boarded the caravel, where two pairs of soldiers patrolled the vacant deck. The date of shipping out remained yet unconfirmed, so they only had the minimum watch. He went to the aftcastle and below the deck, and came soon to the door of Miragrave’s cabin. A pair of knights from the Marshal’s personal guard stood watch.

“The Grand Marshal is resting and is not to be disturbed,” the nearest cadet told the Major, saluting.

“I know, my lad,” Uleison replied in a fatherly tone, “but this can’t wait.”

The look in his eyes convinced them. “Very well, sir.”

The knights made way and Uleison knocked briefly on the door as a warning, then to excuse himself. True enough, Miragrave was still resting. A rare sight. There was a bunk on the far right, where she lay, still in her uniform, only the topmost buttons of the shirt undone. Of course, though she made no move to rise, she wasn’t actually asleep anymore.

“Marshal,” Uleison stopped in the middle of the floor and nodded. “Pardon the timing, but I have news.”

“What is it?” Miragrave groaned and sat up, rubbing her eyes. “The last time I had a wake-up this early, there was a wizard’s head on a pike.”

The magician wasn’t quite sure what she meant, but saw it best to get to the point.

“I lost contact with Louvierre a short while ago,” he reported. “Approximately six hundred and eighty nautical miles northwest from Efastopol.”

“Out of range?” she asked.

“No. Louvierre was—eaten, by a dragon.”

Suddenly, Miragrave was wide awake.

“In the Thousands then?” she asked, quickly standing.

“Indeed.”

“And their hideout?”

“I saw an island a tad larger than the others, which appeared to be both the destination of the Tempest, as well as the place where the dragon came forth. The region is covered with very old charms, but nothing a trained mage couldn’t see through. I believe it is highly probable this island is where her majesty is kept, though I was unable to confirm her status.”

“You know the way there?”

“I believe I have a solid grasp of its whereabouts, yes.”

“Well done, Major!” Miragrave exclaimed, patting the mage on the shoulder. “Look forward to your promotion!”

“I’d rather retire early, if it’s all the same to you—” Uleison started to say, but the Marshal was no longer listening. She stormed past him, out into the hallway, and up to the deck, calling for the Captain and available messengers.

“Give me bells! Sound the alarm!” she yelled. “All hands on deck! The fleet is, as of this moment, in the highest state of alert! No sailor goes to shore today! I want a readiness check to be carried out on every ship, a.s.a.p.! Send word to the Fort, call Wittingam! I want all officers in an assembly within the hour. And close the Bay! All civilian traffic to and fro is henceforth banned until further notice! No exceptions! And no exceptions means no exceptions! Not one sail is lowered out there without my permission! Is that clear? Get to it!”

In a short while, the frantic ringing of bells sounded everywhere in the harbor, and the previously quiet deck of the Thule became bustling with activity, dozens of sailors and soldiers rushing to their stations. The commotion spread fast from ship to ship and onto land. Orders were given and passed on, and messengers sent running.

Taking position by the helm, Miragrave followed the proceedings with a smile of relief.

“At last. We have that two-faced mackerel now!” she mused aloud.

Then, abruptly interrupting her planning, she pulled her collar wider open and cautiously inhaled.

“Gosh, I need a bath…”

2

Six hundred and eighty nautical miles northwest of Efastopol, Erynmir dropped onto the quarterdeck of the returning brig.

“Ahoy, Cap’n!” she cheerfully greeted the man behind the steering wheel. “Welcome home! How was yer swing?”

“Not so good, Eryn,” the Prince answered her. “We’re in trouble.”

“Yay~! We’re in trouble!” the dragon cheered, dancing around him. “Batten down the hatches, on the double~!”

“Not that kind of trouble,” he told her and smiles were absent from his face. “This is the real deal!”

“But that’s what ye always say!” she argued.

“This time, I mean it!” the Captain insisted, glancing nervously astern, as though expecting to see navy sails already looming in the horizon.

The Quartermaster of the ship, Smith, came aft. He was the eldest of the crew, a man in his late forties, thick but robust. He was dressed in a striped sailor shirt, and grayish sideburns like tufts of cotton framed his sunburned face, and as such, he was a rather humorous sight. As he was in spirit.

Taking a glance at Erynmir, Smith abruptly stopped in his tracks and took a step back.

“Oh, where’d you get a decoration like that, lil’ one?” he asked. “That’s cute.”

The dragon paused and turned to him, blinking.

“Decoration-smecoration, what’re on ‘bout, Smithy?”

“That.” The man leaned over and took out a small, brown feather stuck in the girl’s hair. “Now that’d be a falcon feather if I ever saw one. And pretty dang far from the mainland too. Where’d you find this?”

“A-ha~!” Erynmir’s expression brightened up with the light of understanding. “Must’ve been the birdie Eryn chomped afore! Tasty as a keg of grog, ‘n chock full of mana! Eryn ain’t ever seen a wizardin' friend o' feather before! Ainnat somethin’!”

The Prince overheard the conversation and his face fell pale.

“Birds don’t know spells!” he exclaimed. “Damn it, we’re running out of time! Eryn, where’s Yuliana?”

The dragon girl spun around to face the Prince, and answered with a sunny smile,

“Haven’t got the foggiest!”

“Eh…?”

3

Yuliana wasn’t working with Sellé that day. Another of the women, Anri, had asked if she could have her majesty’s helping hand, and was freely given custody, although Yuliana herself had little say in the matter. They left soon after breakfast to Anri’s cabin, which stood slightly apart from the other houses at the very limit of the town, at the canyon's western opening, under the outward slanted cliff face.

Yuliana had to wonder what kind trouble she was in for, but the work turned out unexpectedly simple.

Anri was the wife of a fisherman, a legitimate fisherman, who took not even a part-time interest in banditry, but was one of those in charge of the food supply. Anri was still fairly young, in her early thirties, of modest looks and timid, nowhere close to as willful, crude, or demanding by nature as Sellé.

The work she wanted the Empress’s aid with was patching up old fishnets. They were great nets, the work detailed and time-consuming, but also rather light on the body. As any proper noblewoman, Yuliana had been taught the use of needles and threads before she’d even learned to read, and this was perhaps the job closest to her affinity thus far. She got a quick hang of it after a surface-level tutorial, and needed little correction going forward.

The nets were nevertheless large and there were several of them, filling the living room of the cramped cabin from corner to corner. The women had to go over the threads carefully, with a keen eye, searching for tears to fix. The hardest part was keeping track of which parts they had already gone through, without letting the nets tangle. After an hour, Yuliana began to feel like she was wrapped in a spider’s web, the tiny knots and silky threads filling all of her vision. And if there was anything she truly loathed in the world, it was spiders.

Fortunately, the nets were free of actual crawlers.

The two women worked in silence. The job served to soothe the nerves after the hectic week before. Was it possible that Anri had felt legitimate pity for the hostage and sought to give her an easy day on purpose? Even if this was the case, the woman wouldn’t hint of her intentions with a word. With the efficiency of a seasoned web-spinner, she moved her hands and wasted no time chatting.

Until shortly before the noon.

“I take it you want off this island?” Anri suddenly asked Yuliana.

“Hm?” Yuliana blinked, surprised by the out-of-nowhere query.

“Well, I want out of here too,” Anri continued, even as she continued to gather the fishnet on her fork. “I’m sick and tired of this shit. I want to get back to the mainland. I used to live there, you know? In a real house, on solid earth. Brick walls, a roof that didn’t leak. You’d hardly believe that, right? But that’s what I had, before the promise of adventure and new worlds lured me away. I was young and I was a fool in love, and not a day goes by that I don’t regret coming to live in this trash heap. I want out. But I can’t leave, not on my own. So we should help each other.”

“Do you know a way then?” Yuliana cautiously asked.

“I do,” Anri insisted.

“How?”

“The dragon has its eye on you. But it’s only here, on this island, that the King may command the beast. Because this is where the power to control it is hidden.”

“What…?” Yuliana couldn’t believe her ears. “A power to control the dragon? This had better not be a jest!”

“Think. How else would a man like him be able to bend an Immortal to his will?” Anri spoke. “Did you think they just became friends, a man and a beast, like any average people? It's bullshit, isn't it? But he found the means. There’s an ancient relic hidden on this island. A magic flute that the Ocean Lord gave the King. With the sound of that flute, he is able to charm the dragon and bind it to his will. Otherwise, nothing would keep it from making a feast of everybody here and leaving. But the flute cannot be taken from the island. It is only here that the King may order the dragon. Such is the limit of its power.”

Yuliana listened in silence, not knowing what to say.

The story was certainly seven kinds of incredible, but strangely fitting. Had she not suspected the same herself, that there was some manner of a trick that attracted Erynmir to the Prince and the Tempest? Was this the answer then? Was there a power more ancient and mysterious at work, unbeknownst to the dragon herself? Or was it only the locals’ own pet theory, empty gossip?

Rationally thinking, it was rather far-fetched to assume a mortal man, powerless, and short-lived, could find mutual understanding with a great wyrm. A more pragmatic solution, a godly tool, could better explain many of the Pirate King’s purported, borderline superhuman achievements. The Prince had likely meant no foul. Doubtless he had seen it as a necessity, a way to achieve greater good, the results redeeming the immoral method of overriding the will of a living being.

Anri went quickly on,

“I’ve spent five years scouring the island, looking for the place where the flute is hidden. If only I could take control of the dragon, I could have it fly me away and leave this dungpile behind me. But it’s impossible for someone like me. I found the right place, but it is guarded by evil spirits. I’m only a fisherman’s wife. There’s nothing I can do. But you’re different, aren’t you? You’re the Empress of the sodding Tratovia. You’re cut from a different cloth than commoners like us. I’ve seen you talk to the dragon, like equals. You’re not afraid of it. Your coming here was not random, it was destiny. You can help me and I can help you. You have to find the flute and take command of the dragon. It’s the only way any of us is getting out of here.”

“Is that so...”

Yuliana fell in thought. Taking control of Erynmir as a tool was rather unsavory as an idea, but perhaps she could break the flute, restoring the dragon’s free will? Erynmir would no longer have any reason to guard her, or work for the pirates. Most likely, the beast would end up leaving the island and perhaps seek to return to the west, to look for her own people.

Better yet, without the dragon as a deterrent, the Prince might lose confidence in his fight to oppose the Empire. He would have the corsairs surrender peacefully, thereby restoring order and safety to the Bay. Even if the flute was not what Anri seemed to think it was, it could still be worth a closer look.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“Can you tell me where to find it then?” Yuliana asked the woman.

“I will show you the way,” Anri replied. “Tomorrow morning, before daybreak. Dragons have good vision at both night and day, but not in twilight. Its eyes can’t focus and it will avoid flying. But we must be quick. You have to get the flute before the King returns. I’ll wait for you by the town square. See me there.”

“Very well,” Yuliana said. “But on one condition.”

“What?” Anri asked, halting her hands.

“It’s not just you and me. Anyone who wants to leave, or is dissatisfied with their life, I want you to pass the word and tell them to get ready. If I find the lute, we’re all going. This pirate utopia cannot go on any longer.”

“Fine,” Anri conceded, with faint reluctance, and resumed gathering the nets.

4

Yuliana hardly slept that night. It was still dark when she unlocked her cabin and slipped out. The town all around stood quiet. Most folk at Harm’s Haven adhered to the common daily rhythm, and those who didn’t were passed out, dreaming the sort of torturous visions that alcohol could conjure. This hour served anyone trying to avoid attention. Dense mist veiled the houses and walkways, seeping down from the jungles above the canyon, further aiding her majesty in her sneaky business. Wearing her hooded cloak over her clothes to better blend with the landscape, she navigated past the cabins to the agreed meeting place on the opposing side of the gorge. There, she took shelter behind a cabin at the corner of the square, shaded by a cliff edge and waited in hiding. There was always a chance that someone else might show up, after all.

Anri made Yuliana wait quite a while, but eventually, a furtive shape could be spied in the gray haze, sneaking up the plank path from the north, and she came alone. Exercising great caution, the fisherman’s wife arrived at the square and began to look for her accomplice. That was when Yuliana stepped out of her hiding place.

“Follow me,” Anri whispered to her, wasting no time for greetings, and went scurrying up the stairs towards the top of the cliff, whence the footpath departed into the woods.

Yuliana followed obediently along and they hurried on northward through the humid jungle, where the leathery leaves of the trees were coated in dew and the air itself appeared to be sweating. Anri walked fast, forcing the sightseeing Empress at times to take running steps to keep up.

“Remember the mansion at the heart of the island?” Anri asked Yuliana after a length of silent hiking. “The one where you met the King? Further north from there, down the hill, is a vale, where the mist never clears. At the back end you will find a cavern, in the very lowest depths of which the magic flute lies hidden. But the entrance is guarded by wraiths of yore, deadly to man.”

“How am I to get through then?” Yuliana asked.

“They may yield before one who is worthy,” the woman answered. “Is not an empress mightier than the king of cutthroats? If your coming here was destiny, they will let you pass.”

“And should I prove...less than worthy?”

“Then it changes nothing,” Anri said with a shrug. “They weren’t ever going to let you leave here alive. I’m sure you realize that.”

Anri’s argument was not particularly encouraging.

Nevertheless, Yuliana wouldn’t even entertain the thought of turning back. Sitting still and waiting wasn’t going to change anything. Whatever spirits were guarding the flute, they would make way before the Lord of Light. And if they turned out to be more mundane obstacles instead, Yuliana would deal with them on her own.

The main concern was obtaining the instrument of their freedom before Erynmir would take flight, and before the Prince returned and the Confederacy captains assembled. Even if the Prince was her ally, the likes Greystrode or Sai-Lin would rather see Yuliana hang from the nearest tree than safely returned to her people. They would do anything and everything in their power to sabotage the gathering, and turn the others against the Prince, no doubt. Unless she escaped the island first.

The two women walked on and, as per Anri’s words, the jungle road eventually delivered them to the decrepit mansion. In the mist it looked no less ghastly than it had at night, albeit in a different way, but they kept going past it, around the anomalous pond. Across the clearing, a slimmer path led on. The way was nearly overgrown with thorny bushes and trees, evidently little used, and the low-hanging branches forced them to crawl deep-crouched in places.

It was getting visibly lighter by now. Morning was well on its way, though held at bay by the thickening fog.

Yuliana could see barely eight feet ahead and struggled to hold Anri’s back in her view. The woman kept going swift as a raccoon, even in the cumbersome terrain. However, in another quarter of an hour, the forest suddenly ended and the path fell on a rocky slope.

“We’re here.” Anri stopped and turned to Yuliana. “I can go no further! You must proceed on your own.”

“The spirits?”

“They’re waiting on the other side. Straight ahead. Go. There’s no time. I have to be back, before my husband comes home. Nobody must suspect a thing, or we’re done for.”

Anri took a step to leave, but Yuliana quickly seized her arm, holding her close.

“Remember what I told you? About the others?”

“I’ll tell them,” Anri hastily replied, avoiding her eyes. “Get the flute! There’s no other way!”

Saying no more, she stole loose from Yuliana’s hold and slipped back the way they’d come. In a few heartbeats, the fisherman’s wife had vanished entirely in the mist, not even rustling could be heard, and Yuliana was alone.

“Are they so terrible?” she pondered, facing forward. “Your ‘wraiths’?”

Steeling her mind, Yuliana went on.

The ground here was flat and barren. No grass or trees grew anywhere over a wide, gently sloping area. The soil was ashen and fine, with strips of dark blue, smooth bedrock exposed in places. There were shallow puddles of water here and there left trapped in the recesses, giving off slight steam, which was most likely the source of all the mistiness. In this place could still be seen signs of the volcanic activity, which had once upon a time lifted the entire island and its fellows from the sea, and still continued to warm the land.

Yuliana walked on, her clothes wet from the jungle and the mist. She sought with her gaze the cavern Anri had described, wary of its alleged guardians. After a little while she thought, to her amazement, to perceive a curious smell, which appeared highly unfit for the location; a subtle, flowery scent, which made hair stand on the back of her neck. What could have produced such a sensation here, where nothing grew?

Pondering this, Yuliana suddenly sensed movement in the haze. She glanced over her shoulder and caught a brief glimpse of something dark flashing by. Then another, right after, to her right. There appeared to be multiple apparitions circling around her, briefly exposed by the shifting of air, soon to vanish back into the folding mist.

Anri hadn’t been making it up.

The spirits had found her.

A sword was of no use against genuine phantoms, but Yuliana started to regret coming unarmed. Not that any weapons would’ve been given to her, even had she asked. She was still a prisoner, no matter how blurred the definition had come. She knew no black magic to attack with either, or esoteric wards to guard her soul. In the worst case, she could always try to summon Aiwesh, but performing the ritual took time and left her exposed. Moreover, depending on the Divine so soon, at the slightest hint of trouble, would have been shameful enough to die for. Or so she thought.

Yuliana tried her best to gather her courage and go on, and then the darkness fell upon her.

A wraith dived out of the fog, jumping in front of her. She caught sight of a flash of metal as it cut across the air from above, aiming to split her head. Wasting no time, she ducked and dived left to evade. The blade whistled past her right shoulder, fortunately without reaching its mark.

With a loud, feral cry, the black-clad specter darted off and vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Her heart beating heavy and fast, Yuliana got back up. Bestial sounds echoed from everywhere around her. The mist seemed to be full of taunting sprites, the bloodlust palpable in the air. But even thicker than the threat of violence came that dry, flowery scent, which appeared to hold her by the nose, distracting her, toying with her senses.

“——Yaaa~AH!”

A low, rising cry came from behind her. Yuliana turned around and saw another dark shape charge out from the nebulous veil. A curved dagger, or a short sword in its grip, it lunged ahead and stabbed low, seeking to skewer the girl. But Yuliana saw it coming. Whereas her mind stood confused, her body acted, the motions drilled into her by the venerable instructors of the Langorian special forces. She turned and drew her stomach in, evading the blade by a hair. Seizing the phantom’s wrist with both hands, she pulled him in, and struck him in the face with her elbow. In the brief moment her opponent was stunned, she sought the saber’s handle, and bent the blade against its owner in a cutting motion. The wraith let go and leapt back to escape, but couldn’t get away entirely unscathed.

“AAAYEEEEEEEERGGGHH—!” A terribly cry rang out and the figure staggered back into the mist.

Yuliana heard a dry, clicking sound close to her feet. She looked down. There was a black-painted mask of wood, split in two. The tip of the arcing blade in her hold was dyed with fresh blood.

“It was not a spiritual face I just cut,” Yuliana remarked aloud. “Stop this worthless game and come out, whoever you are!”

——“Oh-ho, majestic!” a mocking voice carried from the mist in answer to her call. “You exceed my expectations at every turn, little Empress!”

That voice, like poisoned wine, alluring yet treacherous...It could only belong to Sai-Lin.

“I should’ve known this was your plot,” Yuliana groaned, searching for the source of the voice. “How could a fisherman’s wife know so much about dragons and myths? It was much too...fishy.”

“Yes, you should’ve known better, my dear!” the voice answered, coiling around her majesty without direction, much like the brume itself. “A magical relic that can control dragons—as if such a convenient thing could be real! Idiot! Moron! Ahahaha! Did you really come here for such a fairy tale? Well, whether you did or didn’t, here you are. It is much too late to pretend to be an intellectual now. You’re never getting out of this place alive.”

“Kh…”

Another masked corsair sprung up. Yuliana was too hasty in her response, her counter premature. Seeing she was ready for him, the villain interrupted his charge, fended off her aimless slashes, and retreated immediately. She tried to pursue the rogue, but another one immediately lunged out from the left, locking blades with her. Yuliana moved to the side and cut past his guard at his head, but her opponent dodged, nimble as a monkey, and cartwheeled out of range, disappearing into the fog’s embrace.

“Were you moved by Anri’s sob-story?” Sai-Lin’s voice spoke. “Try not to be too angry with her. If it makes you feel any better, I can say I left her no choice. See, Anri’s brother serves on one of my ships. The sea can be a cruel mistress! Accidents always happen, the next time he sails out, he might not see port again—unless you honor the spirits with a sacrifice. What wouldn’t a girl do for her family? Even at the risk of excommunication! Isn’t blood thicker than water? What would you have done, if it were you, your majesty? Ohohohoho~!”

“This is an argument between you and I!” Yuliana shouted back. “Don’t involve unrelated people in it!”

“I use whatever I can get my hands on. I told you that, didn’t I? All the threads are mine to pull—since I’m the Tarantula!”

Now two masked men charged from the mist at once. Yuliana moved to the side, trying to keep from getting pinned down between them, fending off their cuts. Turning the foremost rogue’s saber aside, she kicked him in the ribs, sending him tumbling at the feet of his companion. But again, the foes exhibited great agility and discipline. The one behind leapt nimbly over his partner to confront Yuliana, while the downed rogue rolled away. After meeting her blade twice, the remaining villain let out a derisive laughter and escaped. They weren’t even looking for a quick kill but were only messing with her. Like their master, the underlings excelled at taunts.

“Damn it,” Yuliana grunted, trying to guess where the next attack would come from.

“That’s it,” Sai-Lin’s voice sounded. “Feel free to blame yourself for all your misfortune. All you had to do was say ‘no’. Don’t know, don’t care. Mind your own business, like everybody else, and stop fussing over the poor wretches around you. ‘Worth a try, no matter how unlikely, so long as there’s a chance of saving lives?’ Oh, you’re an open book! Did you earnestly believe you were doing these bollards a favor? Ha! As if anyone would actually want to leave! Harm’s Haven is a utopia, after all! So what if their fathers, brothers, and sisters are out there, thieving, plundering, pillaging, blackmailing, and murdering, day after day? It’s all there, somewhere else, conveniently out of sight. So long as there’s food and coin and grog and song, nobody gives a damn about the cost of their tropical dream! That is the true nature of man, you see? Greedy, self-obsessed, complacent to a fault. Even so, you’d pity them? You’d even give a pirate a second chance? Ahahahahaha! Have you ever heard anything as ridiculous in your life! No one can convince me of the benefits of Law and Order, while stupidity of such caliber remains legal!”

“And how are you different from these people?” Yuliana answered. “Whether they chose right or wrong in life, they wouldn’t know until the consequences are laid bare before them. To err is natural—necessary, even—so that we might learn and grow! That is no reason to declare anyone as beyond redemption! The spirit of the Law is not to cull the ‘fools’; it is to caution and guide! So that people wouldn’t commit mistakes they’ll come to regret, without knowing better! I’m sure, if the people of Harm’s Haven were properly taught the price of their dream, they would take apart this ‘utopia’ on their own.”

“And that's what makes you a fool!” The pirate’s voice retorted. “People aren’t simply ‘ignorant but good-intending’. They are evil! Rotten to the core, and clinically so. Oh, they do know right from wrong well enough. Know, but close their eyes, because they think they can get away with it. And some of them always do. The main difference between these people and myself is that I always leave the back door open!”

“You're wrong, Sai-Lin!” Yuliana replied. “I don’t deny there is evil in the world, in us people too. But evil is a choice. A choice that must be remade, over and over. And at all times, people retain the freedom of will to step away from that path and choose otherwise. You have that option as well! There may be no way to undo what is already done, but you can always stop and make amends! No one can take that chance from us. For this alone, I will always put my faith in people! So long as there is life, there is also hope of better!”

“My, my, it's like shouting into the wind,” Sai-Lin lamented. “How come there is still life in you, at any rate? You shouldn’t be moving at all. All the steam here is full of vaporized Gredhulium extract. Without the counteragent, a few drops ought to instill such a sense of terror in a person, you should be naught but a sobbing mess by now.”

“Ah, it’s quite thrilling, all right,” Yuliana replied, a faint smile sneaking to her lips. “But compared to the aura of a daemon, or the light of my Lord, I think your perfume is a little lackluster.”

“Tch...! What are you doing, you fools? How hard is it to cut one girl!? Worthwhile pawns sure are hard to come by. No more playing! Get her!”

The game of hide and seek came to a close.

One by one, all the masked corsairs stepped forward from the mist, forming a tight circle around Yuliana. There were ten of them in total, all armed with similar weapons. Fighting off them all was beyond Yuliana, nor could she see any way to slip past them. Acutely aware of the limits of her ability, she instead raised her voice to the sky.

“Eryn! Eryn, can you hear me!? Where are you!?”

“Oh, don’t bother,” Sai-Lin’s voice sneered. “I’m a witch, remember? Obviously, I would set up a ward in advance. No one outside the boundary may hear your voice. No one in the town knows where you are. This is your end, your noble majesty. Now do you recognize the greatest of your mistakes? Do you see the consequences laid bare? You made the one error from which repentance alone won't save you—and it was making an enemy of this Sai-Lin Qi Weler! You should’ve taken the lecture to heart when you had the chance, my dear. Now is too late. After all, you don’t get to retake tests at the school of life. Flay her. No need to make it too quick.”

“How cowardly…!” Yuliana groaned.

The enemies inched closer.

Yuliana kept her guard up and tried to look for an opening in the circle, or just the slightest weakness. It might’ve been possible for Izumi. But Yuliana had to admit—to her chagrin and relief alike—that she had not the summoned champion’s gift for slaughter. The circle of sabers looked all but impenetrable to her. She made random swings from side to side, but it barely served to slow down the closing of the ring on her.

“HAA—!”

Then, a rogue directly behind the girl let out a loud cry, raised his saber high up in the air, and stepped forward to cut her down. Yuliana turned around to receive his blade, but could already see in her peripheral vision other blades hurry their approach in kind, not waiting for their turn. And she knew she was done for.

But the deathblow wouldn’t land.

Before any of the swords could reach her——the very sky over their heads exploded.

A deafening boom sounded, the force of it staggering. A heavy burst of wind from directly above mowed down everyone on the ground, blowing away the mist in an instant and clearing the way for a brilliant sunrise.

“Ar úin karnanné! Thrós—!” Erynmir roared, spreading her wings wide open, and Sai-Lin’s ward was disrupted before the force of the dragon’s mana, peeled away like a film of morning dew.

Crouching low, stunned by the storm and mayhem, Yuliana looked up. The pirate about to cut her fell to the ground, limp, his discarded saber rattling on the rock. He was dead, fatally cleaved from shoulder to hip. By who? Standing close in front of her majesty in the circle of cowering villains had appeared a new person, clutching a short, bloodied saber.

Raising the gaze of his sharp, blue eyes, the Prince looked ahead, at Sai-Lin, who stood some fifteen yards away, suddenly deprived of the fog’s shelter.

“You…!” she gasped, unable to hide her shock. “When did you...?”

“—Captain Qi Weler,” the Prince spoke with a grim look. “You and your crew are hereby banned from Harm’s Haven. Your seat in the Council of Confederates is forfeit. You no longer enjoy the protection of the Code. Nothing you own is your own. Any free man may cut or betray you at will. And should you ever find yourself in distress at sea, none will sail to your aid.”

“Y-you can’t…!” the woman stammered, recoiling.

“Begone!” he wouldn’t hear it, but pointed his saber at her. “Leave the island, as fast as you are able! Or I shall take also the life that you hardly deserve to keep.”

“Khh…”

Scowling and biting her lip, yet unable to deny her defeat, Sai-Lin clutched the string on her neck, from which hung a crude little iron key that fit to no lock. She tore it off with a yank and cast it on the rocks, then to turn and depart without another word. Her followers hurried after her the best they could, bringing the dead and the wounded with them. In a little while, only Yuliana and the Prince were left. Erynmir continued to circle in the sky above the island, following the rogues’ retreat with her gaze.

The Prince helped Yuliana back to her feet, his expression clouded by guilt and shame.

“’Brief as the memory of dragons’, and ‘empty as the word of a dragon’!” he cited in lament. “I knew the old sayings, yet truthfully, I expected better of your guardian. Forgive me, Yuliana! This was my fault.”

“Things were certainly starting to look a bit grim back there,” Yuliana replied, allowing herself at last to relax, and discarded the pirate weapon. “But in all fairness, I have only myself to blame for this. You and Eryn are surely guilty of naught but sparing me of my just deserts.”

“For the fact that you remain here to say so, I will praise the Divines,” the Prince told her. “Yet, I fear it is too soon for song and celebration. If you have seen enough of our hot springs now, might I persuade you to return to the town with me? We’re about to sail into rough wind from hereon, and all counsel shall be dearly welcome.”

“Why? What is it?” Yuliana asked, growing alarmed.

She could see in his hard gaze a story more grave and urgent than his words gave away. Whatever had happened in Luctretz had to have been bad, promising worse yet to come.

But the Prince wouldn’t explain himself just yet.

“You will hear it all soon enough,” he told her. “...If you join me at the Council of pirates.”