Rosalis and Uliraf wandered about on a small island off the coast of Wolfholde, enjoying their honeymoon. For a place that was next to a kingdom that was freed from tyranny not even a week ago, it was surprisingly pleasant. The grass was green and large maple trees grew all over the place. Uliraf had placed Wolfholde in charge of a trusted regent. He had no worry of something happening. The newly wedded couple laid under a maple tree, staring at the sky. “My father used to take me here when I was a child.” Uliraf told his wife. Rosalis chuckled.

“I can’t imagine why.” She rolled onto her side and placed an elbow down onto the ground, supporting her head in her hand. “Tell me, are there any great tales of battle, back when Wolfgrimm still ruled?”

“Wolfgrimm would have my guts for garters if I told you.”

“Wolfgrimm is dead and you are the king.” She pointed out. “You are free to do as you please.”

Uliraf chuckled. “There was one time when he tried to infiltrate Doyeya and steal its armada for himself.”

“Oh, good Lord.”

“Well...”

Three years ago...

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Wolfgrimm stood at the front of the galley ship as the wind and hard rain pelted his face. Ten other ships followed in his wake, rowing against the storm. A few moments later, after some hard labour, they crossed the border into Doyeya. Suddenly, knights proceeded to fire harpoons down onto the ships from the defensive towers that surrounded the palace and bridge. Without one question, the reserves proceeded to fire useless arrows at the towers, letting them be carried off by the wind or uselessly ricochet off the stone pillars. Within moments, two ships sank, disappearing into the stormy abyss. Wolfgrimm squinted through the storm and saw something coming his way. A 120 foot trireme rowed into view, complete with a ram and three banks of oars. The 180 sailors endlessly rowed towards their enemy, making their way through the storm as if they were on a pleasure cruise, not even acknowledging that they were outnumbered by double. The king of Doyeya stood in a small stand at the side of the ship, commanding it. Suddenly, he swept his hand down and immediately, all of the sailors on the deck crouched, preparing for impact. The trireme rammed itself into one of Wolfgrimm’s ships, sinking it immediately. The two tonne ram broke through the hull as though it was made from pastry and water poured into the huge hole. The galley disappeared into the stormy ocean within moments. The sailors proceeded to fire arrows at their enemy. One sailor manned a ballista and loaded a ten foot iron bolt into it. Accompanied by another, they both began to turn the wheels, arming the bolt. Once the weapon was armed, one of the sailors pulled onto the rope and the bolt shot out, impaling itself into the ship’s hull. Water poured in and it ended up sinking into the storm, swallowed up in an instant. The trireme turned slowly, maneuvering its way through the storm and rowed towards a ship, head on. Suddenly, Greek fire spewed out from the figurehead, burning two ships. The knights screamed in agony as their flesh bubbled, boils exploding. One flaming knight abandoned the ship and jumped into the stormy ocean, just as the burning galley swerved uncontrollably and took his head off with the hull. The fire quickly spread and burned down the sails. Wolfgrimm fought on, despite sustaining heavy damage on his own ship. He roared in fury and frustration and gave the signal. The knights lowered their flags, surrendering. Without waiting, they rowed away. The king of Doyeya laughed in triumph.