The creaking of the ship’s timbers echoed across the quiet docks as Antony stood on the deck, his silhouette stark against the moonlit waves.

The cold night air bit at his face, the scent of salt and the sea heavy around him. He stared back at the darkened coast of Aropia, his lips curled into a bitter sneer.

The sounds of the crew preparing for departure, the rustling sails, and the occasional barked orders seemed distant and unimportant. All that mattered to him was getting as far from Aropia as possible.

Behind him, Mariam, his wife, stood nervously clutching the railing, their two young children huddled close to her skirts. Her eyes darted between Antony’s rigid back and the dim, flickering lights of Aropia’s harbor. She bit her lip, her face pale and drawn with fear.

“Antony,” she began softly, her voice barely carrying above the lapping waves. “I don’t like this. It feels wrong... leaving Aropia like this. Are you sure—”

“Of course, I’m sure!” Antony interrupted sharply, whipping around to face her, his eyes flashing with irritation. He took a step forward, his posture rigid with barely contained frustration. “Do you think I’d take my family and leave if I wasn’t? Don’t be ridiculous, Mariam.”

His words were biting, and Mariam recoiled slightly, but she pressed on, a note of desperation in her voice. “But what about the people, Antony? What if Ren... what if he wins? What if we’re making a mistake by running?”

Antony’s jaw tightened, his face hardening. “Ren is a fool,” he said coldly, his tone dripping with disdain. “He’s provoked the Drakonians into war, and they’ll tear him and his precious kingdom apart. Mark my words, Mariam, when Ren loses—and he will lose—we’ll be safe, far away from the mess he’s made.” He leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing. “He is just some upstart king who doesn't know his place.”

“But... leaving like this, in the dead of night,” Mariam said, her voice wavering. “What will people think? Won’t they see us as... as cowards or worse traitors?”

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Antony’s face twisted with contempt, and he let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Traitors? Is that what you’re worried about?” He stepped closer, his voice low and full of scorn.

“I couldn’t care less what people think. Let them call me a coward while they’re scraping through the rubble of a ruined city. I’m doing what’s best for us. And if you can’t see that, then you’re more naïve than I thought.”

Mariam flinched as if he’d slapped her, but she squared her shoulders, a flicker of defiance breaking through her fear. “And where are we going, Antony?” she asked, her voice a little stronger. “You still haven’t told me.”

Antony let out an impatient sigh, shaking his head as if she were a child who had failed to understand a simple lesson. “We’re going to Serida, to the capital of the Grand Alliance,” he said, his tone dismissive.

Mariam’s eyes widened. “The Grand Alliance? But we have no friends there, Antony. What if they don’t—”

“Enough!” he snapped, cutting her off again, his patience clearly at its end. He looked down at her with barely concealed contempt, his voice cold and unyielding.

“I’ve already made arrangements. They’ll welcome us. And while Ren plays the doomed hero, we’ll be secure, waiting for the dust to settle. When he loses—when Aropia is nothing —we’ll return.”

The two children, sensing the tension, clung tighter to Mariam. She tried to smile at them, but the fear was still plain in her eyes as she looked back at her husband. “I... I understand,” she said finally, her voice almost a whisper.

Antony gave a short, curt nod, his expression one of exasperated relief. “Good. Then prepare yourself for a long voyage,” he said, turning away from her as if the conversation had bored him.

“We’ll be at sea for weeks, and I don’t want to hear any more of your pointless worrying. Focus on the future, Mariam. Set a good role model for the children.”

Without waiting for her response, he strode to the front of the ship, barking orders at the crew to set sail.

Mariam watched him go, her eyes lingering on his stiff back, a look of sadness and fear mingling in her gaze. She pulled her children closer as the ship began to lurch away from the docks, the sails catching the night wind.

Aropia faded into the distance, swallowed by the darkness, as Antony stood at the prow—silent, cold, and certain of the path he’d chosen.