After a brief but intense sparring session with Cel, Eloken hurried back to his quarters, craving rest before the day unfolded further. Cel's prowess had been on a noticeable incline, a fact Eloken hadn't fully revealed to her. Initially, her ability to sway emotions was noticeable but it was manageable; with a bit of concentration, Eloken could resist her influence. However, recently, her control over his emotions had become overwhelming. Anger incited by Cel could plunge him into a blind fury, a state so volatile Eloken feared a minor provocation or nudge from Cel could drive him to unfathomable violence. On the other hand, when she calmed him, he felt disturbingly pliable, convinced he could be compelled to do almost anything, even self-harm under her influence.
The potential of Cel's Dol source was vast, and Eloken had contemplated leveraging it against certain nobles to achieve his objectives. Persuading a lord to agree to a treaty by erasing his doubts seemed straightforward. Yet, Echo and Dalamir vehemently opposed this strategy, citing ethical concerns—a standpoint Eloken had to agree upon, especially as he found himself unable to harness Dol source, no matter how hard he tried and searched for it.
Seeking solace, Eloken indulged in a steaming hot bath, a luxury he sorely missed during his years of exile before his return for honorable combat. Though he was but a child when tragedy struck, the warm, comforting embrace of hot water remained etched in his memory, a poignant reminder of his life before his parents and brother were cruelly taken from him.
The heat seeped into his muscles, loosening the tension wrought by his recent exertions and the weight of his thoughts. In these moments, surrounded by warmth, Eloken found a rare peace, a fleeting escape from the demands of his quest and the shadows of his past and future. This simple pleasure, a stark contrast to the hardships he faced while banished and hardships yet to come in the future, served as a balm to his weary spirit, reminding him of the simple life he once knew when Echo, Dalamir, and the rest of the crew had just met and lived as carefree kids.
Eloken's brief respite was abruptly interrupted by a series of firm knocks on the bathroom door. Echo's voice, clear and urgent, penetrated the steam-filled solitude.
"Eloken, the carriage is here. We should depart now if we want to visit the docks before heading to Reobard's mansion."
Eloken sighed, the warmth of the bath suddenly feeling more like a cocoon he was loath to leave. With a tone of mock irritation, he called back, "Can the world not wait a moment longer? I'm communing with the spirits of relaxation here."
Echo, unfazed by Eloken's jest, retorted, "I fear the spirits have a notoriously tight schedule today, my lord. They suggest you commune with the spirits of haste instead."
Eloken chuckled but didn’t give up. "Come in, join me. Docks and Reobard can wait; the world can wait."
"You wish," Echo replied, the hint of a smile in her voice. "Maybe next time."
“No better time than now,” Eloken tried one more shot at it.
“No, seriously,” Echo changed her tone. “We really need to get going.”
“Alright, Empress,” Eloken cried back from the bathroom. “I am coming out.”
Echo and Eloken shared a history rich with moments of friendship and hardship, a bond forged in the fires of shared adversity and the carefree days of their youth. In those early days, when they were just teenagers, their relationship occasionally blurred the lines between friendship and something more. There were moments, stolen in the shadow of the night or in the quiet breaks between their adventures where they entertained a physical relationship.
At moments, Eloken felt like Echo was a woman created from his dreams. Yet, as they embarked on his quest for revenge, they had chosen to navigate the waters of their future without crossing that line ever again, reverting to a simpler, more platonic love.
Despite their decision, the foundation of love and deep respect remained unshaken. Eloken cherished Echo, not just as a friend or a sister, but as an equal to him, as someone who was a constant in his most turbulent times, and as such, she was the person he trusted the most on this forsaken planet. Their compatibility and the ease with which they coexisted did not go unnoticed by those around them. Their friends or just bystanders often remarked on how well-matched they seemed, noting their happiness and harmony when together.
All that didn’t stop Eloken from occasionally reminiscing about those times, those shared nights under one blanket, the way her skin felt, the way she smelled, and the way he felt at ease as if nothing else mattered in those nights. He was not able to recreate that feeling with any other woman he shared the bed with ever again.
With a final, lingering sigh, Eloken rose from the bath, the weight of duty dispelling the last remnants of steam and serenity. His clothes were left on his bed, so he decided to leave the bathroom naked, not even wrapping a towel over his private parts. He enjoyed teasing Echo from time to time, and she wasn’t innocent herself in that regard.
As he emerged from the steamy confines of his bathroom, he stood confidently and flashed a cheeky grin in Echo’s direction, fully expecting her customary eye roll.
"Do you like what you see?" he teased.
Echo merely arched an eyebrow, her gaze mockingly critical. "I've seen plenty, and trust me, I've seen better," she retorted with a smirk, her voice laced with playful sarcasm. It was their usual dance of words.
Eloken laughed, the sound echoing in the room. "Is that so? Well, I guess I'll have to work on myself more then," he quipped, looking over his muscular body.
Echo's smirk widened into a genuine smile. "Try as you might, but right now, the world—and most importantly, Trokt and Reobard—can't wait for your vain attempts. Get dressed, we have a long day ahead," she said, her tone shifting towards the more serious side.
Chuckling, Eloken conceded, "Alright, alright, Empress commands, and I obey." He turned to gather his clothes.
Fully clothed and ready, Eloken cast one last glance at Echo, his expression still one with a stupid grin. "Let's not keep the world waiting any longer!”
As Eloken and Echo stepped out into the bustling streets of Worlin, their carriage only able to drive them to the city square, the early morning sun cast a golden hue over the city, breathing life into its ancient stones. The city, a nexus of trade and intrigue, was already alive with the day's hustle. Merchants hawked their wares with boisterous calls, while townsfolk weaved through the crowded streets, each on their own quest for the day. The air was thick with the aroma of fresh bread, spices, and the distant salty tang of the sea, reminding them of their destination—the docks.
Navigating through Worlin's maze-like streets required a keen sense of direction, which Echo seemed to possess naturally. Eloken, meanwhile, took in the sights and sounds, his warrior's gaze noting the subtle undercurrents of tension and anticipation that rippled through the crowd. He knew these were tumultuous times for the Isari Empire and as such the tension was high even among the common folk.
As they approached the docks, the sea's vast expanse unfolded before them, dotted with ships of varying sizes. Sailors busied themselves with their duties, their shouts, and songs mingling with the seagulls' cries. Amidst this chaos stood Trokt, a figure of calm authority. His eyes, sharp and assessing, missed nothing. Despite his lack of sleep and the weight of his responsibilities, Trokt greeted Eloken and Echo with the biggest smile of the day.
“What’s the news?” Eloken inquired, extending his hand to Trokt in a warm handshake.
“Nothing good, I'm afraid,” Trokt replied, his tone somber as he wrapped Echo in a comforting hug. “Let’s move inside so we can discuss matters privately,” he suggested, nodding towards one of the nearby ships—a prize seized from the Imperial Order after the Honorable Combat, now serving as the Academy's private vessel.
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Eloken and Echo, understanding their conversation wasn’t one nearby sailors should overhear, followed Trokt into the bowels of the large ship. They stumbled upon a cozy sitting area, nestled below the hull, designed with the high Isari nobility in mind—a place where comfort met opulence. Before settling down, Trokt fetched a bottle of wine from the shelf.
“Just arrived from the Isles de la Cora,” he announced, presenting a black bottle devoid of any label. “A homemade remedy from the locals sold to only a select few on the mainland. It's rumored to be better than sex.”
“Let’s see…” Eloken murmured, curiosity piqued as he took the bottle from Trokt, pouring for Echo and then for themselves. Their glasses met in a toast, an intimate ritual of their crew. "To a brighter future, to moments yet to unfold. Remember the past, but don't let it chain you, Salut!”
“Can’t lie, it might indeed be better than sex!” Echo chimed in, her voice laced with mirth as she shared a playful look with Eloken, who responded with an infectious grin.
“Now,” Eloken pressed, his tone turning serious. “What's the situation?”
“Well…” Trokt began, his voice heavy. “The situation is deteriorating rapidly I am afraid. Joixari and his merry band of pirates have blockaded the Island completely, not sparing even their allies. Commerce has ground to a halt; any vessel daring to breach the blockade under cover of night or fog is swiftly sunk without warning. They even sunk a scouting ship from Moire, which they took as the official start of the war.”
Eloken responded with a scowl, his frustration visible. “The true start of the war was the moment their fleet came at their doorsteps,” he grumbled, disdain for the Moiran bureaucracy evident in his tone. “But that’s nothing new, we expected it sooner or later.”
“Yeah we did, but that’s not the bad bad news.” Trokt continued, pausing to take a long sip of wine, allowing its rich flavor to linger before sharing the bad part of the news. “Before Joixari declared a total blockade, one of my operatives managed to infiltrate the island undetected, following your advice to seek out your new friend, former commander Fopit.”
“And what did the old man say?” Eloken asked, leaning forward in anticipation.
Trokt exhaled, frustration seeping through his words. “That the council is getting pressured into breaking the Agreement with you per Joixari’s request,” he disclosed.
“There is no way they do that,” Eloken countered, disbelief showing on his face. “Moirans are known for their stubbornness and pride, there is no way Joixari can ever enter and conquer the Island and they are self-sufficient on their own.”
Trokt’s expression darkened. “Yes, but he has amassed even more wealth than we assumed and has started bribing potential new members of the council with coins and even worse new infused equipment from the Stonecutter guild.”
Echo interjected, skepticism in her tone. “I mean they take bribes as any politician, but there is no way they do it so blatantly,” she questioned.
“Yes, and no,” Trokt nodded solemnly. “There has been new current on the island, even before Joixari came to their front door, I am guessing he started paying them and spreading the rumors. You know they are big for their religion and what’s their outlook on magic. So the rumor is that the current council made the deal with the devil and now when Joixari came, they are hailing him as the savior.”
Eloken's disbelief was turning into frustration, "You've got to be shitting me," he blurted out. "How much time does the current council have left before they fold?" he asked.
Trokt shook his head uncertainly, "According to Fopit, not long. Perhaps a week, maybe a month at most. Soon, they'll be folding, and annulling the agreement with you will top the agenda of their successors."
Eloken's frustration bubbled over, “We are screwed without that deal in the long run,” he said. “Fucking hell, we can’t wait any longer we need to act now. What did our friends from Azarim and Nordal say, are they willing to help us.”
“No one wants to fight Joixari and Marrowshade’s fleet combined on the open sea.” Trokt responded, "Nordal has expressed conditional support—they're prepared to join if we can match their fleet's size. As for Azarim, they can’t help at all, they are dealing with those ghouls and skeletons appearing randomly across the desert and wreaking havoc on the local settlements.”
Eloken cursed under his breath, “We should really help Azarim, but we have to deal with the Moiran’s blockade first. We really need Reobard’s fleet, if we convince him few other nobles might follow and lend us their ships and we might just be able to amass a decent fleet.”
“What about going to your nephew, his Majesty,” Echo interjected, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Surely, he could commandeer their fleets for the Empire’s cause."
Eloken shook his head, his voice laced with disappointment, "He’s been bought off; engrossed in his wealth and distractions, he's unlikely to oppose the nobility on our behalf at this moment."
Echo’s frustration was evident today same as the day they crowned him the king, "I warned you against crowning him. You should've claimed the throne yourself as people requested and wanted at the time."
Eloken sighed. “If only I could be in two places at the same time I would have taken it. But what's done is done. At least he's upholding his end of the financial bargain and staying out of our affairs."
Echo let out a weary sigh, then refilled everyone's glasses to the brim, tilting the bottle to capture the last drops. She then kicked her legs up on the table, settling back within her large chair.
"Ok," Eloken pierced the quietude with a firm resolve, "we need to find a way to sway Reobard to our side—and quickly. Trokt, is there anything else we should know?" he asked.
A hint of optimism flickered in Trokt's eyes. "Actually, there's a bit of positive news for a change," he revealed, a rare smile breaking through.
Echo couldn't help but respond with a touch of sarcasm, "Oh, wow, a pleasant surprise for once."
Trokt's laughter was low and hearty, a welcome sound in the tense atmosphere. "Indeed, one of my more... let's say, 'acquaintances' who isn't fond of Marrowshade managed to seize a shipment from the Stonecutter Guild intended for Joixari. He's offered it to us in exchange for a significant reward and a promise of future favor," he explained, gesturing towards a large wooden crate that was located not far away from them.
Prompted by curiosity, Eloken and Echo rose to investigate the crate, circling it as though it might reveal its secrets upon closer inspection. "And what treasures does this box hold?" Eloken inquired, his interest piqued.
Trokt, seizing a crowbar, made his way to the crate with a sense of purpose. He wedged the tool between the wooden slats and with a decisive heave, pried it open. "I had a peek earlier; you never know with pirates," he admitted, a wry smile on his face. "But what lies within are two complete sets of armor, along with matching weapons and shields, plus a pair of bows accompanied by an assortment of ten rather weird arrows. One of the sets seems tailored for Joixari himself."
As they unveiled the cargo, two sets of armor emerged, nestled within the straw, their outlines faintly glowing at the joints and carved lines. The first set bathed in a deep ocean blue, echoing the serene yet powerful depths of the sea under moonlight. Its chest and leg plates bore intricate carvings, with select areas infused with power-bestowing stones only Stonecutter guild knew how they worked. The helmet, designed to inspire fear, had a visage of a mythical sea creature, its eyes partly hidden behind a sapphire-like visor that added to its beauty.
The second set mirrored the first in design yet diverged in color, adopting a striking combination of black and red. Its helmet set itself apart with antler-like decorations and a blacked-out visor that concealed the wearer's identity.
Accompanying the armor were two swords, not the largest in size but breathtaking in their craftsmanship. The hilts were masterpieces of artistry, each designed to its respective armor set, one wrapped in dark blue leather with silver fittings, the other in red with black lines.
Echo couldn't resist the allure of the swords. She lifted one, marveling at its unexpected lightness and unique feel it gave her. "This is incredible! It’s as light as a feather yet feels... different," she observed, her gaze then shifting to another large box. “Is there anything in this box?” she queried, pointing the sword towards it.
Trokt barely had time to say no before Echo, driven by curiosity, sliced through the second box with ease. "Incredible!" she couldn't help but yell, unable to hide her excitement. "This red and black set is destined for me," she declared, casting a glance at Eloken, who offered a noncommittal shrug.
"Discuss with Dalimir who will take which set," Eloken suggested, his attention fixed on the box effortlessly cleaved by Echo's swing. They had previously agreed that any Stonecutter Guild equipment they acquired would be first offered to Echo and Dalimir, given their lack of powers.
Trokt then directed their attention to a smaller crate. Inside, two imposing bows lay, their dark green finish accented by two forward-facing spikes, presumably for close-quarters combat. Surrounding them were five pairs of uniquely colored and shaped arrows.
"That’s a nice-looking bow," Eloken remarked, encouraging Trokt to give it a try. “You are our best marksman after all”.
Trokt, intrigued, tested the bow's string, amazed by its lightness and the lack of resistance. Echo, ever decisive, pointed out a red and yellow arrow for him to use.
"Alright," Trokt complied, selecting Echo's choice and preparing his shot towards a distant pole. The arrow, released with a steady breath, struck its target with incredible speed, and for a moment, all seemed normal. Suddenly, the impact site erupted in flames, stunning everyone.
"Holy crap," Trokt gasped, the unexpected explosion catching them off guard.
Realizing the potential danger, Eloken quickly called for water, and together with Echo, Trokt, and the crew they called from the docks, they managed to douse the flames, safeguarding the ship.
"That was extraordinary," Trokt reflected once the crisis was averted, their eyes scanning the Worlin port from the deck.
“A single arrow can destroy a large ship,” Echo said looking off into the distance. “That’s insanity.”
“The question is how rare are those arrows?” Eloken asked. “And how many does Joixari already have.”
“No idea,” Trokt answered "I'll need to dig deeper, find a Stonecutter Guild insider willing to talk. There’s always someone," he mused with a knowing smile.
“You do that and bring this equipment to the Academy without telling anyone, we will want to keep this a secret,” Eloken said and Trokt nodded in agreement. “Also by watching the flames, I’ve gotten the crazy idea that just might be crazy enough to work.”