Chapter 23 - Crumbling Bastions

Twenty was the number of warships in Xenaria's navy. Or more specifically, Theodore's navy. Great ships the size of which Eildred had heard of, but never seen, each one a work of art, a shadowing behemoth with four masts, enormous ballistae lined up along their sides. Each ballistae could fire great iron bolts as thick as five spears bundled together.

Every war vessel was docked along Qalydon's stone harbor, gangplanks lowered, and soldiers in white marching up in columns of three. Eildred stood to the side, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. He turned his head towards the city where lines of wives, sisters and mothers waved. Families of Qalydon's finest. The port city didn't have a large garrison of its own. Most aspiring career soldiers made their way to Arcaeus where fighting men were better served, despite Theodore's higher salary offers. A strange thing. Tales of grandeur, of living legends, drew young men to Duke Serene rather than taking a high pay from Lord Coraine and living in relative safety. The seas, after all, rarely saw battles. I suppose I have a part to play in those supposed legends myself. Thundersword had been a name earned when fighting for House Serene.

Perhaps circumstances would change now. Perhaps, after the liberation of Kovar, new tales would arise and those tales, repeated and exaggerated in taverns, could give rise to new legends, sparking a generation of young Qalydonians to enlist under their own lord. Maybe exaggerations won't be needed. Theodore, in his younger years, had been a finer duelist than Kalin Serene. He was a leading actor hidden behind the stage curtains. And he was content with staying that way, with having little to no role in stories, remaining conspicuous and going beneath everyone's gaze. Someone capable of going toe to toe with me. Capable of igniting the thrill within that I so long for.

Lord Coraine was speaking to a dark haired woman with a light honey tan. She wore a flowery white dress, a small bundle in her arms. That had to be Tilda, and she was holding a child. Theodore marched away, the buttons of a worn burgundy coat undone, cutlass at both sides of his waist. His normally aloof expression was filled with determination, and behind those focused eyes were the flames of anger. He placed his tricorne atop his head and nodded towards Eildred as he passed by, stalking up the gangplank to The Salamander, the fleet's flagship.

Eildred glanced at the city one last time, at the grey skies hanging above it, and the white handkerchiefs waving in the hands of proud women, some crying, others shouting words of encouragement.

"Sir Aegis!" cried a voice near drowned by a gust of wind as Eildred was turning to follow Lord Coraine.

He turned to find Tilda walking to him, one arm holding the bundle to her breast and another pushing away her smooth black hair from before her eyes. She stopped about a dozen feet short of him.

"Bring that idiot home in one piece!" she said, holding her head high and smiling. A proud smile. "And keep him from drinking too much!"

Eildred pressed a gauntleted fist to his heart and lowered his head. He turned around without saying a word, the sounds of his heavy boots thumping against the wooden gangplank louder than any shout or cheer coming from the harbor. He was the last to board. He imagined what he looked like from behind. A spec in black armor boarding a great ship. Any other time, the back of the Thundersword would inspire. This time around, Theodore's ships were the main point of pride.

The gangplank was pulled up. "Raise anchor. Set sail!" Theodore bellowed. White sails were unfurled and the flagship soon set out, the rest of the fleet trailing. Theodore took his place before the helm.

Eildred came to stand beside him, his heavy black armor making each footfall sound like a gong strike.

"You know, it's strange," the admiral said, hands gripping two ends of the wheel. "I've been in her majesty's gardens twice only, and yet I feel as though I'm missing it."

"Quite strange. You'd think the gardens would bring memories of your broken ribs," Eildred commented, smirking as Theodore touched his sides. A few years shy of twenty had passed since Eildred had thrashed him during Dahlia's wedding night.

"Right, right. My comments were a tad distasteful, I guess."

"You guess?" Eildred asked, narrowing his eyes. "And a tad?" The High Lord merely shrugged in return. "That reminds me, how's it I never heard of you having a child?"

"You know I don't like making issue of such things," Theodore said, spinning the wheel a few inches left. "I prefer to keep it that way. Lucky thing, that one. Tilda's grown a lot softer since he came around."

Thing? Eildred shook his head. "Another sailor in the making?"

"Aye. Trauvel she's named him. Trauvel Coraine. I'll make a fine sailor out of him. But enough about that now. Those Flaming pirates. And that damn weasel, Dhorjun." His knuckles grew white as he strengthened his grip. "I'm not fond of leaving Qalydon's shores undefended. I'm glad you're here, Eildred. Let's make quick work of these scum and be back on our way home."

Eildred nodded. The smell of the sea bothered him. It reminded him of fish, something he actively avoided eating. His distaste for seafood had remained hidden for a very long time. Only his brother had known of it. He wondered if Madrivall had ever made mention of it to Dahlia.

Salty breeze aside, Eildred didn't hate being on open waters. The gentle manner in which the waves rocked the ships was calming —likened by poets to an infant being in a loving mother's embrace. Eildred looked out into the vast expanse of blue. It seemed infinite, stretching to the horizon and beyond, separated only by a line between it and the moving dark-grey skies like a layer of oil floating atop the waters. He put his hand out as if to grasp at its edge. "At least the sea is never changing."

"Aye. She's always been that vast expanse of blue and always will be. More beautiful than anything else this world has to offer, if you ask me. You should visit more often, Eildred. Have you seen the ocean floor? It's a lot more of a wondrous sight than any forest I've been to."

Beautiful, yes. But not more than anything. Not more than Dahlia in her gentle white dresses, sipping tea with those soft lips, sitting beneath the comforting shade of her garden house. "Sinking to the depths isn't exactly my cup of tea," Eildred said. "I don't even know how to swim."

Theodore laughed. "So the invincible Thundersword has a weakness after all, eh?" His speech tended to be very informal when in more comfortable settings.

A strong southward wind propelled the fleet forward at favorable speeds. Eildred felt the gust at the back of his head, kissing past his ears like a teasing lover.

Theodore left the helm to one of his crewmates and motioned for Eildred to follow him down to the captain's cabin. The air in the room was heavy with the smell of alcohol. "This here's my office," Theodore proudly proclaimed. "This is where all the business gets done!"

The cabin, unsurprisingly, was filled with crates of aged wines and rum. Nothing like what Eildred expected a captain's room to look like. But Lord Coraine was no ordinary drunkard. For every crate of alcohol, there were detailed nautical charts nailed to the wall. All of them drawn with accurate measurements of distance and depth of the waters, notes pinned alongside them detailing expected winds of the area and the changing of tides during different seasons and lunar cycles. Eildred couldn't even begin to guess the amount of work such an endeavour must have taken. The admiral popped a cork and held out the bottle. Eildred shook his head at the offer. "I do not think it wise to drink with a battle looming overhead."

"Battle and bottle are siblings born of different mothers. Just a little something to calm the nerves," the man said as he took a huge swig. "Who am I kidding? As if the mighty Sir Aegis fears anything. Ah, that hits the spot. Just the right amount of burning and sweetness from these date wines. Have you ever had a date, Eildred?"

He shook his head in response.

"Of course you haven’t. You follow her majesty around like a puppy. Or so they say. How could you ever have time for women?" Theodore laughed.

Eildred crossed his arms. Theodore reached in the drawers of his desk and took out a small box. He opened it and held it out. A sweet fragrance came from within. Inside were small dried brown fruits that appeared similar to chocolates. Eildred cautiously examined one before putting it in his mouth. There was nothing but sweetness. It didn't have the bittersweet taste of dark chocolates. It was unlike any fruit he'd ever had. "This… is quite good," he admitted, gnawing of the remains stuck to the pit of the fruit.

"Aye, it is. Quite cheap too. Readily found in the markets of Eurale. But the wine is the expensive stuff." Theodore reclined in his seat and drew one of two cutlasses at his waist. The blade was a darker shade than what Eildred was used to seeing. "Can't remember the last time I used these to draw blood. Made from iron sand found deep within the deserts. Far sturdier than the stuff from Baron Galadin's mines. Far more expensive as well. My entire fleet is armed with such weapons. Cost me as much as it would to buy the half of Qalydon."

"You're quite the spender," Eildred commented. The rage Theodore was trying to hide behind an aloof attitude showed all the more with alcohol running in his system.

"I spend for quality. Besides, I sell dates for ten times the purchasing price and wines for around three times as much. Now you see how much I have to lose by giving up Kovar to a bunch of corsairs? Qalydon also has more refugees than it can adequately house. I don't fancy people under my charge living in the streets."

"These pirates. How much of a threat do you consider them to be?" Eildred asked.

"Dhorjun Rossa is as skilled a ship captain as any. The Fang of Eurale. Or was, anyway. Dhorjun the Black Fanged Reaver is what the reports say he's calling himself. Captain of the Silver Serpent Pirates." Theodore smirked. "Fancy naming sense, I'll give them that. Whether he has the vessels or the numbers to match us is another question. I don't believe he's funded by any of the desert kingdoms." Theo examined one of the sea charts on his wall. "I haven't seen the man in over a year. I'd heard of small time pirates attempting coastal raids and stealing from unguarded merchant ships. Never thought Dhorjun would be the ringleader."

"You didn't bother dealing with the pirates?"

"They hadn’t hindered my business until now. All merchant vessels going to and from Xenaria were accompanied by my warships. The raided vessels belonged to either desert merchants, or Empire ones. Let do to untrusted neighbors, you know?" He took another drink. "It worked out in our benefit to let Empire merchants get sacked. I was also paying more mind to Tilda when she started carrying."

"Theodore, her majesty isn't going to be too pleased to hear that you didn’t handle a threat when it was minor… Granted, I think she hates you already."

"It's always her majesty this, her majesty that, with you. Almost as if you're in love with her." Eildred didn't respond. His gaze fell to the floor. Theodore raised a brow. "Scorched seas! You actually are? I was only joking. Does Dahlia know?"

He shook his head. She didn’t know. And she shouldn't ever know. She was his brother's widow. But her strange behaviour that day. Wouldn't it be better if he pressed harder? Better if she were interested in him than Adrian, a potential traitor? No. Those thoughts were purely selfish. Dahlia was in a confused state, looking for someone to cling on to. Only, he could never be that someone. It wouldn't be right. And on the slight chance that Adrian was innocent, he would have only played with her feelings when she were most vulnerable. It was something that could never be.

"I love Xenaria as much as you do, Eildred. I'll die for her even. I just hate having an overarching authority on top of me. I always wondered how you, the best in the realm, let yourself become restricted to the palace grounds for most of your time. How it was you could endure putting shackles upon your own strength instead of seeking to use it. Figures. The only shackles strong enough to hold one like you would be shackles of the heart."

"Speak for yourself," Eildred said. "Theodore Twincrescent. Or do you prefer the Moonlight Sculptor?"

Theodore leaned back against his bolted desk, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. "Been well over a decade since I heard those names."

Eildred examined the man. Theodore was a strange character. The kind to wear a carefree attitude over a warrior's spirit. The kind to play the part of a greedy merchant while being a loyal vassal fortifying the nation's defenses. The kind to openly proclaim his guilt at times, if only to prevent rumors. Eildred suspected that something similar had occurred during the queen's wedding night. Theodore wasn't insensitive enough to lay such an untasteful insult on such an important night.

Deep rumbling echoed from above, sending vibrations along the wooden structure of the ship. Eildred and Theodore made their way to the deck only to be greeted by rainfall. The sailors weren't concerned. For men that spent most of their days on sea, weathering a storm was commonplace. Soldiers from the capital were resting beneath the deck, away from the downpour. Eildred could feel the clothes beneath his black Queen's Guard armor grow wet. He welcomed it. The southern air was much too warm for a fully armored knight.

"Captain! The winds are growing stronger," a crewmember said. "We should be arriving at Kovar faster than anticipated."

Theodore nodded at the report. He looked up at the sky and frowned. "I hate storms," was all he said. The rain came to an eventual stop but the thunder continued to rumble above.

"Won't the wild winds push us off course?" Eildred asked, spreading his legs to hold balance.

"No. They aren't quite strong enough to displace vessels as large as these. If it picks up any further, then it may require some finesse and maneuvering." Theodore rinsed the rain water out of his hair. He had a frown set on his face. For a sailor, he didn't seem to be very fond of water.

Large waves were crashing against the sides of the vessel, spraying water onto the deck. Eildred glanced back at the following fleet. They were managing just fine. Though, with the way they tipped up and back with each conquered wave set his heart racing. Losing vessels as great as these, and the men inside them, would be a terrible tragedy.

Theodore clicked his tongue and began heading below deck once more. An onslaught of shouts and cries stopped him in his tracks.

"Man overboard! Man overboard!"

The fleet admiral rushed to the edge of the ship and peered into the dark waters. Eildred started after him. Whoever had fallen was surely lost. The skies were dark and the waters too wild. The ship tilted as it rose above a large wave. Eildred lost his balance and found himself being quickly forced to the edge of the ship himself. Theodore noticed him in time and pushed him back as hard as he could. "Idiot man! Why in Burning Seas are you wearing a full suit of armor on a Flaming ship?" he cried.

Eildred couldn't come up with a valid response. The question hadn’t come up until now. Theodore stripped himself of his coat and shirt and dove headfirst into the waters. Eildred could only watch with his mouth agape, standing a safe distance from the ship's edge. Crewmembers of The Salamander cried out. Hardly any of them dared get close to the edge. Those that did peered into the waters and complained about seeing nothing. Every passing second felt unbelievably long. Eildred found himself panicking for the first time in his life. He had no experience in naval combat. Without Lord Coraine, command of the fleet would fall to him and he'd have no choice but to order a retreat. He feared disappointing the queen. Feared breaking the silent promise he'd made with Tilda before setting out. "Come back. Damn madman. Flaming hurry up and come back!"

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"I see them!" someone cried.

Eildred resisted the urge to move to the edge of the ship. "Throw them a line!" he barked. The crew had already thrown a line before the order was given. Eildred spotted Theodore bobbing up and down with the rising waves, struggling to grab the rope as he held on to the sailor that had fallen over. He wasn't powerfully built. It was a miracle that he could even swim while holding another man in this weather. He managed to grab hold of the line with his free hand. The sailors began pulling them up, Eildred lending a helping hand. "And you called me an idiot?" he said when the Theodore was back on deck. The other man with him was unconscious. Someone pressed down on his chest a couple of times and he coughed up water.

Theodore glanced at the man, water dripping from the tip of his nose and strands of his hair. He spat out a mash of seawater and phlegm before breathing a sigh of relief.

"Are you insane?" Eildred asked. "Everything would have been for naught if you died!"

"But I didn’t die. That's all that matters." Theodore pushed his long hair away from his eyes. Someone handed him a towel and he began drying himself. No one was questioning his actions. As if everyone accepted this as a normal occurrence. They all looked upon the man in admiration.

"There is a difference between bravery and recklessness."

"I agree."

Eildred sighed. Had he not seen the incident with his own eyes, he likely would not have believed it. Theodore was no daredevil. He was a responsible man acting within the limits of his powers. He believed himself capable of saving the fallen sailor. He had enough courage to dive into the water. And he had a heart of gold that he did his best to hide. His actions had also bolstered the morale of everyone on the ship. "I knew it all along. You never insulted her majesty that night. It was a servant of yours. And you covered for him, knowing that any potential reprimand would be greater for the servant than for the young master of a High House. You can't —no. You won't abandon anyone. That's just who you are."

Theodore laughed with a rasped voice. There was more phlegm caught in his throat. "You knew it all along. And yet you still bludgeoned me for it. How kind of you."

"How kind indeed! My quick actions saved you from anything more taxing. Who knows what Madrivall would have done to you if you weren't already lying on the ground with a bloodied nose. I imagine any man would be beyond upset if their bride was crying on their wedding night."

"Mhm. And how long have you been in love with her for, eh?" asked Theodore. Eildred found his gaze set before his boots again. The admiral smirked. "Madrivall wouldn't have done much worse than you. I was bedridden for Flames knows how many days after that incident." Theodore put his clothes back on. He looked through a spyglass, making sure the other Xenarian warships were still following from a measured distance.

"Ships!" a watcher cried from atop the main mast. "Ships on the horizon. Five on the right. And… a single ship from the left."

Theodore closed his fists. "Mm. On time, I suppose."

Eildred narrowed his eyes. "On time?"

"I expected us to arrive here at some time during the noon."

Eildred looked around, wondering where 'here' was. He could only see a vast expanse of blue all around them.

"I know these waters like the back of my own hand," Theodore said, sensing a question. "Where you see nothing, I see landmarks. I spent my entire life mapping the Aegis Basin. Wind currents in this area tend to be more mellow than normal. Makes it a less volatile battleground, though, these storm whipped waves will persist for a while yet. Shouldn't be a problem for my ships. Still, Dhorjun can't be underestimated. He seems to know these waters pretty well himself." Theodore sniffed. He chewed on his tongue with twisted lips. A look of regret. "Or maybe it's someone else of talent reading these waters," he muttered.

"Are you sure sending half of the fleet is a wise decision?" Eildred asked.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Battles are unpredictable. You of all people should know that. I know they don't have ships to match mine, or a fleet as mighty either. Tarmia has a minor fleet at Ostirin, but I've heard nothing of them allying with the pirates. My captains are skilled enough to deal with this minor surprise. There shouldn't be any more surprise attacks. Eurale doesn't have any more combat ships and merchant vessels aren't equipped for battles. I'll be boarding a different ship and flanking around Kovar with some extra soldiers. Son of a bitch probably expects to stall us at sea while he prepares some nefarious ploy for when we land. I'm going to catch him unawares. You head the frontal assault. Dhorjun won't come out with what one or two ships he has remaining. A battle on land will be more your area of expertise."

Eildred couldn't disagree. But he had a bad feeling. "I promised your wife—"

"And I will," Theodore replied before Eildred had even finished his sentence. "Look alive, Thundersword. We've got thousands of soldiers. We'll recapture the island and you can go back and deliver the good news to your beloved queen."

Eildred grunted. The Salamander slowed until another Xenarian vessel caught up to her. Theodore, followed by most soldiers on The Salamander, boarded the second ship and sailed off to the side. Eildred wasn't overly fond of being the only commanding officer aboard the flagship. But he trusted the High Lord's judgement.

The afternoon wore on. A small spec appeared in the distance. It slowly grew larger. Eildred looked through a spyglass of his own to see the harbors of the island town. Multiple smaller vessels were docked at its port. Most of them waving black flags with three rend like marks at the peak of their masts. Captured merchant vessels. The pirates truly didn't plan to fight at sea. Eildred still couldn't rid himself of the ill notion looming in his thoughts like an itching wound. He never failed to act on his instincts. It had saved his life many times. But here on open waters, he wasn't quite certain where his feelings were stemming from. Kovar had no defensive fortifications that could stop the coming warships. Nor did the pirates have the numbers to match the Xenarian soldiers unless Dhorjun was being sponsored by the kingdoms of the Illeyan Alliance, though such information would not have slipped passed Theodore.

"Ship! Enemy vessel from the left!" a sailor cried out.

Eildred's head jerked to the side as other sailors rushed to see whom it was. The Xenarians couldn't afford a naval battle without their admiral. He looked through the spyglass to see a single vessel approaching them. It had a similar black flag to other pirate ships, though with a red serpent rather than three rends. He breathed easy for a moment. It was only one ship. One that was less than half the size of each Xenarian vessel. Its design was sleek, two main masts with sails wider than the vessel itself and another mast near the front with triangular sails. A ship built for speed.

Eildred was certain the experienced fleet would be capable of dealing with it. It was also still a ways off, though closing the distance rapidly. So long as the Xenarian fleet managed to dock on the harbors, the battle would be as good as won.

Or so he thought.

He peered through the spyglass wondering what had happened to the five vessels Theodore had sent in response. The spyglass slipped from his fingers. His lips parted and for the first time in his life, his armor seemed to constrain him, seemed to suffocate his chest to the point where breathing became difficult. Is this… fear?

The sailors of Qalydon were muttering amongst themselves, their hushed voices akin to waves sloshing against The Salamander's side. Some of them gripped the hilts of their cutlasses, seeking comfort behind the defense of a weapon. It took everyone a few long, hard breaths before they finally started moving, deckhands taking their position near ropes, ready to maneuver the sails to adjust speeds if need be. Others stationed themselves near the massive ballistae at the ship's side.

Eildred picked up the spyglass again. He checked the other eight ships entrusted to him. They were all preparing for battle. The remaining soldiers of the capital resting below deck were called up and made to form ranks. Eildred steadied his breath, surprised at how quick the pirate vessel moved. He touched his chest, feeling the vibrations of his pounding heart through his thick breastplate, then peered behind the approaching enemy again.

All five massive warships sent to it had been damaged to the point of sinking. Hundreds of Xenarian soldiers were left at the mercy of the high seas.

***

Theodore clutched the hilts of both of his cutlasses as his ship approached the rocky shores of Kovar. Betrayals were what he hated most. He was a man willing to bleed for his friends and subordinates. He was seething with anger. Dhorjun was a man he'd exchanged drinks with. Never trusted him. But still shared drinks with the bastard. He wondered what madness drove the Fang of Euryale to piracy. Whatever it was, the man would pay. This was more than personal. Theo hadn't told the full story to Eildred. It wasn't that he didn't want to deal with the pirates. He simply couldn't.

The occasional pirate raids happened. It was minor. Nothing to worry about. They hardly hindered business. Dhorjun had promised to deal with them. Theo thought nothing of it, believing them to hardly be a threat. Instead of dealing with them, the Fang let them roam free. He manipulated them from the shadows and controlled their actions. I simply didn't expect enough of the unexpected.

The Black Fanged Reaver knew every trade route there was to know. It was best to assume he had access to the best quality of sea charts with Eksa serving under him. Even if Dhorjun had more meat in his skull than brains, he had Crow as his second, and now Eksa as well. It made sense that Theo's captains couldn't form an effective response to the attack on Kovar. They were fine men. But a gap in talent is not one easily closed. Flames! I should have paid for her. I should have bought the girl when I had the chance!

Theo had many friends in Kovar. Had. Most of them were gone. The island town had a relatively small population in comparison to Xenarian cities. Less than half of Kovar had managed to escape to Qalydon. The rest, the raiders had either slain or captured to sell. And Theo couldn't imagine slaves being sold to Eurale when Dhorjun had sacked its ports. And slaves elsewhere aren't treated as well as they are in Eurale.

The ship anchored close to the shores just as lightning flashed in the still grey sky. Hundreds of Xenarians marched down the gangplank and formed ranks on the shores, lightly armored soldiers of the capital at the front and Qalydon's sailors at the rear. Each man held plain and hardened glares, their loyalty to the nation showing from their straight backs and closed hands.

Theo knew he could put his faith in them. It didn't matter though. He was expecting the fight to be one sided. The pirates would have their attention focused on the larger fleet approaching the town's harbor. Something they didn't have the power of contending with. Theo half expected them to have already run away, leaving Kovar emptied. Or not. Expect the unexpected. He glanced back. No need to hesitate. If for whatever reason enemy numbers exceeded what they should, he could retreat back to the ship.

The Xenarians marched further inland once everyone had disembarked the ship. Few sailors remained to stand watch. Crows flapped and cawed not far from the ground. They circled over the ruined town, no doubt feasting on what rotting remnants were left at their mercy. Theo drew both his cutlasses and gripped them as tight as he could, his knuckles going white. His temper rose with each step, with each and every breath. "Where are you? Where are you, you Scorched bastard?" he muttered.

Warning horns from the ship behind the Xenarians stole everyone's attention. Theo turned around. His eyes went wide in horror. The ship they'd left anchored at the rocky shores was now surrounded by a few smaller vessels. Sailors aboard were calling for aid. It was already too late. Theo could hear the sharp sounds of cracking of wood from where he stood. The warship was a sitting duck. Its outer shell was being punctured by the ballistae of the pirate vessels surrounding it. Now riddled with holes, little by little, it began to sink. The remaining sailors disembarked and joined the rest of the Xenarians.

Theo seethed. One of his beloved and expensive warships so easily downed. From such a simple trap as well. The retreat path was cut off. "Everyone, stay alert!" he called. "We've been had. But we still outnumber them and have them in a pincer." He hadn't even finished speaking when cries of pain and surprise ran through his army. The pirates had archers hidden behind large boulders, all of them using the infamous recurve bows favoured by the armies of desert dwellers. Theo caught sight of a blur whizzing straight for him. His hand moved before his mind could react, deflecting the arrow with his cutlass. He clenched his teeth as he saw a large man crest the top of a hill about a hundred meters away from him.

Dhorjun was as tall as Eildred, but had far more bulk to his arms and chest. His black hair, shoulder length, and half of his face covered in a thick beard, making it appear as if he was a black maned lion. In his hands was a thick wooden cudgel with iron spikes protruding from the ends. Theo could feel the skin upon his face pressing in folds. He could mask his hatred no longer. He could see the pirate's triumphant smile from where he stood. Dhorjun believed himself the victor.

That wasn't possible. Eildred should have landed on the harbors of the town already. Unless he hadn't…? What is it? What am I not expecting? What did I fail to see? Their time should've been nearing its end. Yet that triumphant smile… Theo finally understood. They were pirates. Conquest wasn't their goal. They'd spin a loss into a victory because they were the underdogs. The target wasn't Kovar. The target was himself. Without Theodore, supremacy of the seas belonged to Dhorjun.

The Xenarians were surrounded. Once Theo was dead, the Black Fanged Reaver would make his escape out to sea. "That's assuming you can kill me, you rat!"

The Xenarians managed to get their shields up. The peppering of arrows was no longer damaging them. Only a few casualties were sustained. Theo looked upon the uneven ground that lay before him. Unstable footing. The soldiers behind him would struggle to fight on rocky terrain. But he was a seaman. To be a sailor was to live on unstable footing. A landscape he thrived upon. Theo took it upon himself to lead the charge. He would be the fire the Xenarians needed to escape this deadly trap. And they were already left without a means of retreating backwards. Cornered men were men that fought the hardest. They had nothing left to lose. Because the only path out was the path forward. But before he even gave the order to charge, Dhorjun outstretched his arm. Hundreds of pirates crested the hill and descended upon the Xenarians as a tide descends upon the rocks.

No.

More like ants crawling down a hill.

The enemy had recruited a diverse cast of fighters; Empire deserters wearing the imperial armbands with a red hand, Xenarian bandits wearing scraps of armor, traitorous Euralite soldiers still wearing kingdom armor, and Mahjur mercenaries with bare torsos and curved shamshirs.

"They say the Thundersword is Xenaria's greatest swordsman," Theo began, raising his voice. "They say he is peerless, that none in Illusterra can top him. I'll be damned if those words aren't a challenge to my pride! For I am a sailor! I am a romanticist. And every romanticist dreams of being the best! Behold, my Xenarian brothers! This is what it means to be the best. Stare at my back and step forward no matter the cost. Know my name, pirate scum! Know the name of the man that will send you to the afterlife. Theodore Coraine! Theodore Twin Crescent! I am Xenaria's greatest swordsman!" he declared as he twirled the two cutlasses in his hands.

A fierce roar behind him set his heart alight. He rushed out to meet his foes, long coat billowing in the wind like a knight's glorious cape. The ground quaked in fear as blades and men clashed, screamed, and killed, splattering blood and spilling gore.

Theo danced between his enemies, ducking and spinning to dodge fatal blows as his arms moved in tandem to dispatch limbs and heads left unguarded. He lunged in small bursts, balancing himself upon sharp rocks for a split second, slicing with his blades, and then lunging again. To him, this was no battle. The crude and ill-mannered movements of the pirates were like child's play. He was a skilled fighter of talent matching the Thundersword. Talent he never had reason to display, sharp and beautiful dark blades he never had reason to wield, red blood of others he never had reason to spill.

He deftly stepped with his toes and jumped from one position to the next, never finding himself upon poor footing while forcing his would be opponents to step in unwanted places, causing them to respond from awkward and unbalanced states. Theodore didn’t let a hint of enemy blood stain his clothes. Nor did his heels ever touch the ground. Such was his skill. Short thrust forward. Half a step back. Spinning with outstretched arms and then jumping over a corpse. Brief parry with the left hand and quick slash to the throat with his right. And then a half step back again to avoid the spray of blood.

Yes. To the Moonlight Sculptor, this was not a fight. This was art. This was skill. This was peak swordsmanship. This was a waltz. One where his partner only managed to keep up the length of time it takes one to blink. A macabre waltz. A one sided massacre. 'My name is Theodore Coraine!' he shouted in his own head as he severed one belonging to a man in long white garb, staining the cloth around his collar and shoulders with red.

Dhorjun still stood at the apex of the hill, grinning with confidence. He was growing in size with every step Theodore took towards him. The Xenarians were holding their ground, but that was only because their leader was managing to cull the pirate numbers all on his own. "Keep smiling!" Theo howled. "I'll be right up there to rip it off!"

He continued on his way up the hill, hardly struggling to ascend despite being at an obvious disadvantage. He sidestepped a shamshir and tripped a man, sending him tumbling down towards the Xenarian soldiers. More and more enemies came at Theo. He hardly needed to fight back. While going uphill was slow, the pirates going downhill had bad balance and couldn't land any strikes on the dancing sailor. He dodged out of every blow and gave each adversary a shove. All of them fell down, heads being split apart by the sharp rocks. Any that survived were dispatched by the slow ascending Xenarians.

Theo had just about reached the summit of the hill. A pirate wearing imperial colors leapt towards him with sword arm raised. Theo screamed as he lunged forward with every ounce of strength his legs could muster. He severed the man's arm before the pirate could bring down his sword. Theo then spun and slashed at his enemy's throat before he tumbled down, ensuring that he was dead. There was now nothing left between the Xenarian admiral and the Black Fanged Reaver.

Nothing save for an ugly and thick cudgel that Theo barely noticed in time to block.

Dhorjun had moved into Theo's blind spot when he'd spun, and swung the barbaric weapon with both hands. Theo was forced to bring both cutlasses up to parry the attack. He hadn't yet crested to the hill top and the Dhorjun's thick arms carried too much weight to bear. Theo saw the world tilt as he fell backwards. He briefly saw more pirates coming down from the rocky shores. The same pirates that had cut off their escape route had now gotten on land. They were on the verge of catching the Xenarian soldiers unawares. Theo's men had followed him without thinking to look back. He opened his mouth to cry out a warning. A whimper escaped instead, followed by the briefest of gasps. The back of his head struck the ground.

That was where his memory ended.