The sun hung mercilessly overhead, beating down at high noon. Its brilliant rays transformed the emerald sea to crystal, though he had no eye for such beauty. Bilatra Keep clung to the water's edge, with sheer cliffs marking the island's end. (This climb is more knackering than wrestling a kraken!) He sent a pebble skittering with a frustrated kick. (What kind of half-wit king plonks his castle in the arse-end of nowhere?)

Cursing with every step, he finally conquered the summit. "My wretched knees," he groaned, massaging his thighs. "Perhaps I'd be better off as a merman after all."

Bilatra Keep loomed before him, imposing and ancient. Built in 2272 of the Era of Conflicts by the first Sea King, Bilatra Laren Ctiton, it stood as testament to hard-won victory. After dozens of bloody struggles, the mainland settlers had finally established order in these lands. Bilatra, having vanquished his rivals, claimed Shahani Island and crowned himself King of the Seven Seas. The fortress that bore his name had weathered nearly eight centuries, requiring over fifty restorations throughout its history. "Sea King, my arse. More like Mountain Goat," Wally Laren Ctiton would often scoff at anything on the island. "Crude, tasteless, utterly devoid of refinement, and sickeningly ugly" - and those were his good opinions of the ancestral pile.

"Prince Wally!" the guard grinned with his few remaining teeth. "What wind blows you to Bilatra Keep today?"

"Certainly not the draft whistling through your gums," Wally retorted, flashing his perfect teeth as the guard roared with laughter. "My father's inside, I presume? Let's hope he hasn't decided on a whim to attempt a three-hundred-foot dive." He mimed the plunge with theatrical flair.

"Ha! You do care for the old man," the guard chuckled. "If he had, I'd be calling you King already."

Wally bowed his head in mock solemnity, and the guard pantomimed placing a crown upon it. "It's not his shattering bones that would concern me," Wally smirked, "but rather the fright he'd give those naked maidens swimming below."

Both erupted in raucous laughter. "Go see your father, Highness," the guard said, straining to push open the massive door. "Let's pray we don't hear a splash later." He watched the prince saunter away.

Wally knew exactly where to find his father. As Solomon Laren Ctiton aged, he rarely strayed from his study, dividing his time between dusty tomes and silent contemplation of the sea from his terrace.

"Father," Wally offered an exaggerated bow. "What relief to find you still among the living."

Solomon remained fixed on his book, ignoring the greeting. "Your Highness," a man in flowing robes bowed deeply.

"Ah, Lord Crowley," Wally drawled. "The eunuch with no bollocks. Beg pardon - I only have eyes for proper blokes."

Crowley merely smiled thinly.

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"My son," King Solomon slammed his book shut. "Were you to shed your frivolous arrogance, you might actually outlive me."

"How touching, Father, this concern," Wally stepped closer, lowering his voice. "At least I won't wither away waiting for death to find me."

Tension thickened the air. "Your Highness," Crowley interjected, "might I inquire as to the purpose of your visit?"

"Why, to check on my beloved father, of course!" Wally dropped dramatically to one knee, seizing the king's hand and pressing it to his cheek. "To see you still breathing brings me such comfort."

King Solomon barked a laugh. "Were I to die today, my son, I suspect you'd celebrate." Wally chuckled in response: "You know me too well, Father."

The laughter dissolved into violent coughing. Crowley rushed forward with a handkerchief that quickly bloomed crimson. "Mind your health, Father," Wally released the king's hand. "Dying of mirth would be terribly ironic."

Solomon fought to regain his breath. "Fool boy..." He leaned heavily on Crowley's arm to stand. "I know why you've come. My answer is no."

"Oh?" Wally's head snapped around, his eyes narrowing as he studied the old man. "So you divine my purpose already? I never realized you knew me so intimately."

"From the moment your mother pushed you screaming into this world, I knew exactly what kind of worm I was dealing with." With Crowley's assistance, the king shuffled to a massive stone basin. At its center lay a pool of seawater that seemed to plunge into infinite depths. "Armor, sword, gilt oar—this is how one visits a king? I can smell your foul intentions before you even part your lips, Wally."

The prince's laughter rebounded off the stone walls. "Still such a cutting tongue at your age. It almost makes me reluctant to leave you, Father." He flung open a window, letting salt-laden air crash against his face. "Since you already know my purpose, wisdom dictates you simply agree."

"Agree? To send my son marching to his death?" Crowley placed a stool by the basin for the king. "You cannot save Cynthia. Leading troops there ensures only your demise."

"How can you be so certain? Unlike you, I don't need help to stand or a cane to walk."

The king sighed, grief etching deeper lines into his weathered face. "The Water Mirror. I witnessed Cynthia's fall in its depths. Duviliel has refused aid."

"But you didn't witness my death."

"The Water Mirror reveals not all things. Its visions invite interpretation, and each gazer sees differently. Yet some truths remain fixed, immutable." The king's voice carried a desperate edge, hoping against hope to sway his headstrong son.

"And how do you know your vision is truth?" Wally rounded on his father, eyes flashing. "Let me tell you what I saw in the Water Mirror: a cavalry charging into Cynthia's heart at the crucial moment, standing with Queen Claire against those southern dogs. I lead that charge, and Siv reunites with her sister."

"You cannot risk everything for a woman!" The king's fist crashed down on the stone, sending ripples dancing across the water. "She may be your wife, but she's not worth the sacrifice of your life! Your mother is gone—if you perish as well, where shall I find an heir? Who will rule Shahani? Who will maintain the Seven Seas' fragile peace? Your brother and sister both rest in watery graves because of youthful impetuousness!"

"I am not them." (Though I do this for a woman, it certainly isn't Siv.) "I will help Siv safeguard her sister's realm."

"You prove even more foolish," Solomon growled, his beard quivering with rage. He motioned for Crowley to bring his book, then tore out a page with swollen fingers that moved with surprising dexterity, folding it into a paper vessel. "I pray this final effort might help you pierce the sea fog that clouds your judgment."