Aboard the Ysbrydfarer and sailing north up Pwynt Estuary with the fresh wind accosting her black hair, Arwen felt an odd sense of freedom. The somewhat large vessel pierced through the waves with the occasional almighty crash, sending rainbow-hued spray over the bow where the Princess stood. She was struggling with all the fancy terms that came with sailing a ship that the seaward merchants insisted on using for some reason. The ‘front’ of the Ysbrydfarer wasn’t correct, apparently, and someone called the ‘bosun’ had laughed at her when she referred to it as so, correcting her by saying it was the Ysbrydfarer’s ‘bow’. Arwen had little knowledge on what a bow had to do with the front of a boat- perhaps because it cut through the water like an arrow? Either way, being laughed at made her cheeks burn with embarrassment, and she had immediately excused herself to find somewhere she could be alone.

It was how she ended up on the ‘bow’, and after a few minutes of moping, she actually began to feel happier. Regardless of the exhilarating wind, Arwen had initially kept a close eye on the surrounding sea, as no doubt Captain Dai did as he manned the helm. But so far, nothing had popped out of the horizon, and the clear summer skies offered fantastic visibility, allowing for the Princess to relax a tad and enjoy the ride.

Within the lower deck, Cai and Gwyn had taken to chatting up the crew and playing dice, whilst Owen was enjoying the faint guitar strumming from the Ysbrydfarer’s very own musician, which Dai apparently needed for his crew. Cain stood next to Dai, though distant enough not to get in the way, and although he was a simple passenger aboard the merchant ship, his anxious posture still commanded respect.

If Arwen had expected they would be alone out at sea, she was sorely disappointed. The crew largely let her be despite their obvious interest in the Princess, yet Arwen nonetheless found company in the large pod of dolphins travelling parallel to the ship’s left, or ‘port’ side. They parted the water with ease upon their jump out of the water and left such a small wake that Arwen had initially thought they were waves upon first sighting them. “Commons,” a voice abruptly said behind the Princess.

Arwen jumped and turned to face a deathly thin middle-aged man, who like most of the crew, sported a shiny bald head that seemed to reflect the sunlight like glass. “Excuse me?”

“Common dolphins,” the man raised a slender finger towards the travelling pod. “See em all the time.”

Arwen simply nodded, unsure of what to say. The man, however, seemed unbothered by her lack of enthusiasm. “According to the people of old, we used to get whales way back when the End’s Ocean wasn’t called the End’s Ocean,” he explained without prompt. “But they all either died out or left through Pwynt Estuary towards the New King’s Sea.”

“What happened to them?” Arwen had heard of whales but had never seen one for herself. They were larger, more majestic, iterations of dolphins from what she remembered of her childhood lessons.

“Fuck knows,” the man shrugged his bony shoulders. His lips curled in a toothless grin. “Name’s Cass Floyd. I’m the cooper of this here ship.”

“Princess Arwen Blayney,” Arwen shook his hand politely. She hesitated to ask, but found the words slipped out of her mouth. “What’s a cooper?”

“It’s an honour, your Teyrn,” Cass laughed throatily. “Wonder what brings such royal company aboard this humble merchant ship…”

He seemed to then realise her question.

“Oh… a cooper is someone who makes and maintains the barrels aboard a ship. They’re important n’ all for storing food and water, so someone’s gotta maintain em.”

His wondering why she was here confused Arwen, but at least he didn’t mock her for not knowing. “You surely know why I am here, no?”

Cass shrugged. “The pirates?”

“Yes…” Arwen peered at him. “Do you not think I’m good enough to deal with them?”

“Just thought you’d have more important things to do is all,” Cass pulled a face. “I imagine you’re swamped with shite the moment you step back in the Kingdom.”

She wasn’t, for Arwen had shockingly little duties outside of her lessons in Cyfoeth despite being its heir, but she didn’t bother to correct the cooper. “Even though they are apparently all dead and yet still robbing you?” she asked cynically.

“I dunno about that.”

“What do you mean?”

Cass smiled thinly. “I was asleep when all that nonsense happened- all the shouting and running around woke me up, but I was on night-watch because of crew shortages at the time, so I just rolled over and fell back asleep.”

That sounded incredibly careless to Arwen, but an idea struck her. “Did you notice any strange noises? Like someone rooting through your supplies?”

“Nice try,” Cass laughed. “But the Captain already thought to ask me. I was out cold during the time, didn’t hear a thing. Woke up about the same time as everyone else did.”

Seemed whatever had knocked out the entire crew also affected those who were already unconscious. A shame, and yet another failed lead for the Princess. It seemed she truly had sent her and her retainers on a fool’s errand, after all. Of course, she’d only ended up wasting their time…

Her thoughts turned towards the surrounding ocean, which expanded endlessly into the eastern horizon. The docks at Glannau had long since dwindled into a small speck on the edge of Loel, protected by the sandy Continent’s Beach and the giant Fugg trees of Continent Garden, which seemed small and insignificant with the expansive distance. The blue-green waters of Pwynt estuary pulsed towards the Ysbrydfarer in foam-cresting waves from the south, propelled by chilling winds that juxtaposed the blazing heat of the sun.

Inside the Ysbrydfarer was a lot less hostile, but the pervasive humidity within the wooden confines posed challenges of their own. It was there that Arwen reunited with the boys, who had just finished a game of some sort of cards on one of the tables, accompanied by the first mate, a man who seemed both thin and plump at the same time. He had a wiry frame yet had cheeks that hung loosely from his face. Like with most of the crew, he sported a bald head, but he had let his hair grow out a little bit more than usual. It looked like stubble atop of his head to Arwen.

“They sleep in hammocks,” Gwyn sounded both amused and impressed. “I can hardly believe it.”

“It’s uncomfortable,” the first mate admitted. “But we make it work.”

“Is this where we’re sleeping tonight?” Arwen certainly hoped not.

“No,” the first mate shook his head. “I have a small bedroom I usually sleep in. You can use that. It’s not very comfortable, your Teryn, I admit it. But it’s a damn sight better than hammocks.”

“Are we in hammocks?” Owen asked, receiving a nod from the first mate as a response.

“The captain will probably want to stop a fair distance from the islets for the night,” the first mate informed the lot. “It’s no good anchoring by the islets, only to get robbed by the pirates if they do in fact live there.”

Arwen nodded. “May I ask about the toilet?”

The first mate grimaced. “Wish you hadn’t asked.”

-cut-

Anchored in the northern section of Pwynt estuary, close by to the islets according to Dai, though Arwen had only seen endless water, the retinue stood on the ship’s port side to enjoy the sunset as it sunk into the vast horizon below. They had been stood on the main deck for most of the day, as one of the Ysbrydfarer’s crew members had been sleeping all day in preparation for a nightshift as a lookout and was apparently quite anal about any noise below deck. At this point in the summer, the sun never truly set, however, and its apex just barely peaked above the horizon, sending a curtain of pale-yellow light cascading across the otherwise dark-hued sky. “I used to watch the sunset with my sister,” Cai commented as a cool wind replaced the direct warmth. “Good times…”

They had gone to sleep shortly after, as Dai had wanted to get an early head start on the islets the next morning. The first mate’s room was a small little cabin with a stale smell and a dull interior, but the bed was somewhat comfortable, enough for the Princess who had experienced nights on the cold, hard ground. It was the gentle rocking, this time, that bothered Arwen. It made her feel queasy.

The next morning, Arwen awoke knowing she likely lacked enough sleep for the day, but otherwise eager to get out of the cramped room to get some air. She appeared to fare better than her retainers, however, who all complained about how tough it was to sleep that night. Either way, the main deck called, and they had a lot of searching to do today.

The islets, when they finally arrived after a few hours of sailing, weren’t the small islands that Arwen had envisioned them to be. Instead, they were more like fingers of rock that jutted straight out of the eastern border between Pwynt estuary and End’s Ocean. Most of the islets were pressed together in tight clumps of rocks, which the crew had called the Diafol’s Hands, and where therefore impossible to entirely explore, but Arwen quickly realised it was unneeded. None of them could be habitable, and it would be impossible to squeeze a ship half the size of the Ysbrydfarer between the jagged fingers, let alone the crewless ship which had rivalled its length.

A full day of searching later, which involved a lot of careful weaving and wide arcing movements, Dai had declared that the entirety of the islets had been navigated, and that they had come up empty. Arwen was equal parts disappointed and relieved, for it had grown stiflingly hot on the main deck, and Owen’s pale neck had grown so red that it almost had a light of its own. Arwen thought the poor archer was definitely sunburnt, and painfully so.

“We’ll sail away from the islets and anchor for the night,” Dai also sounded disappointed, though she could tell he had been tensed with anticipation the whole day, and was glad to avoid another encounter with the mystery pirates. “No luck at the islets, so we’ll head to The Island tomorrow.”

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For the best, Arwen thought. Sailing directly to the Church’s beloved island in the middle of the night would only sore what she already expected to be a highly strained encounter with the Church members inhabiting it.

That night was even worse. It was so humid that Arwen struggled not to constantly think about how uncomfortably hot it was, and the waves were harsher that night, sending her stomach lurching at every peak and trough and stirring up violent fever dreams that kept her suffering. Arwen was sure she had barely slept a couple of hours, and was crestfallen the next morning to find ugly black marks under her eyes. Now she looked as horrible as she felt inside, she inwardly joked, but didn’t find it particularly funny. The boys had contrarily slept well, apparently faring better in the open lower deck than Arwen’s borrowed cabin and bed now that they had a night behind them to acclimatise to it. They thankfully had the consideration not to mention her poor state.

It was anxiety that fuelled Arwen on the way to The Island, fighting off the pressing burden of sleep tugging at her mind. She had no idea how a confrontation with the Church would go, and expected it to end poorly. By this point, the Ysbrydfarer’s crew thought any confrontation with other ships, let alone any Helvetian military, was highly unlikely, however they travelled as far east as possible just to be safe. It was there that Loel’s scariest and most-existential crisis inducing sight loomed, for the End’s Ocean just… ended, far to the Ysbrydfarer’s starboard side nearby the horizon. No ship ever dared approach the end of End’s Ocean, but it was largely accepted that Loel simply culminated there into a void of black. Arwen recalled a story she was told as a child, where a man longing for death had gotten a small ship to bring him nearby the void, and simply jumped off and swam the rest of the way. No one knew what happened to him next. Go and find out. You want to, a voice whispered in her mind, but Arwen immediately suppressed the thought with a slight tingle of horror.

It was in the early afternoon that The Island at the End came into view, sending a ripple of unease across the anxious crew, who knew this meeting with the Church could go very awry if they took unkindly to their presence.

Arwen gazed nervously at the absolutely giant jungle trees that climbed high into the sky, poking out from behind a large and seemingly infinitely extending wall of spiked wooden logs pressed tightly together around The Island’s circumference. Over the walls, Arwen could see the extent of The Island’s verticality, with high hills and valleys lush with shrubbery so thick she could hardly see the ground below it.

The giant log walls were climbable, Arwen thought, but would be difficult to scale. Furthermore, they had been placed around the jungle’s edge instead of The Island’s, providing the entire yellow sandy beach to land by. Whether this was intentional by the Church, or some sort of measure for saving logs, the Princess did not know, but she was thankful they could at least get onto land. Still, a single sentence repeated in her head over and over, burning into her mind like a branding iron to cattle; this is a bad idea.

A lone figure dressed in white very quickly appeared from the north, walking purposefully to the Ysbrydfarer’s position alongside the south-west portion of The Island. Arwen immediately recognised the colours of the Church, but was stunned at their rapid response time. What baffled her further was that they had also only sent a single man to greet what could’ve been a hostile invasion force. No doubt a larger might lurked somewhere, watching the interaction from afar. The entire crew watched as the man paced his way to the starboard side of the Ysbrydfarer before turning to them and gesturing a hand over his head. “I think he wants us to disembark,” Cai sounded surprised.

Arwen agreed. Oddly enough, the Church member wanted them on the island. “Do you have any row boats, or something?” Gwyn asked Dai.

“They’re usually only for emergencies,” Dai confirmed. “But I’ll get one ready for you.”

Twenty minutes later, with a small row boat on the water and Arwen and her retainers climbing in, they were ready to set off towards The Island. The lone Church member, however, broke into a frenzy of gestures, waggling his hand in the air and pointing upwards with his index finger. He also shouted something, but it was slightly too far for Arwen to make out the words. “He only wants one of us to talk to him,” Gwyn guessed. “The rest have to wait here.”

“I’ll go,” Cai immediately volunteered, but Arwen vetoed him.

“What if he only speaks Iekean?” the Princess posed a rhetorical question. This was her chance to prove herself to them. To show her retainers that she could do something right for once. “I will go.”

Her retainers immediately protested, but Arwen stopped them with a glare. “Just let me do this! The Church will not harm me, and you’ve said yourself that I might get a better reception as royalty.”

And so, it was decided. Arwen set off alone and had to awkwardly row herself to The Island and its awaiting Church member. It took a good five minutes, but she finally ran aground on The Island and was able to step upon land without so much as getting her feet wet from the lapping waves, much to her nervous delight. The lone Church member watched in silence, allowing the Princess to approach into talking distance.

“Who are you?” was his first question. The man wore the typical Church colours; white and grey, but his flowing robes and loose clothing set him apart from the Elite Holy Sages- a fact Arwen was relieved of. He also spoke Deinian, though Arwen did not know whether it was because it was his native tongue, or because he recognised her or her Cyfoethian uniform.

“I am Princess Arwen Blayney of Cyfoeth,” Arwen flashed what she hoped was a disarming smile, trying to hide her jittery fingers. “I just have a few questions, then I promise we’ll leave.”

The man’s blue eyes scowled in response. He clearly was neither impressed nor fazed by her royal title. “You are aware where you are?”

“I… am.”

The Church member’s voice grew harsh. “Then why are you here?!”

“I’m here not for the Church,” Arwen rushed to explain. “But for a group of pirates that have been terrorising a local village, starving it of much-needed supplies for its children and women. We’re here simply in interest of these ruffians, not you.”

The man looked mighty unhappy indeed. “Then why come here?”

“W-we thought it was a possibility that they were sheltering here,” Arwen held up her hands when the member grew downright angry. “Ah… unbeknownst to you, of course. I am not here to accuse.”

“You thought wrong,” was his peeved reply. “You have made a grave mistake, Arwen Blayney. The Church does not take kindly to interlopers.”

Arwen could see this falling apart. She had to do something- to try and salvage her own mess. She couldn’t afford another failure! “I- I am truly sorry! Can I at least smooth things over with you, before we leave?”

She should have known. There was no way the Church would ever let strangers inhabit The Island, and they seemed hostile of anyone who dared approach. She was destined to fail from the start, and it was her fault for not realising.

“I would rather you just leave,” the man grumbled, but then hesitated. “Tell me of these pirates. How could you have been so desperate to find them, that you search here of all places?”

Arwen thought his sudden interest odd, but nevertheless relayed all that she knew of the pirates so far, failing to see the harm in leaving out details or otherwise attempting to obscure the truth. She also secretly hoped her honesty would go down well with the ticked-off member. She told him of the strange winds, the crewless vessel, and its abandoned state. A bored reception was all she got, until she mentioned the still-warm dead crew.

The Church member suddenly became intensely captivated, and assaulted her with questions. When she was finally allowed to continue with her story, she was once again stopped when she got to the black orb.

“Describe it to me,” the Church member tensed up.

Arwen was uncomfortable with his fierce reaction, but described it for him anyways. “It’s, uh, made of glass- I think. Seems to… bend the light around it. Contains a black portion of what looks like the night sky, with stars… I guess, within… it… uh, I know it sounds weird, but…”

For a moment, the Church member said nothing. Then, he addressed the Princess. “Wait here.”

He immediately turned and left, walking back the way he came. Arwen stood baffled and turned to face the Ysbrydfarer, sending them a confused gesture when her distant but watchful retainers splayed their hands.

Only around five minutes had passed when two new Church members approached, the original man nowhere to be seen. Unlike him, these two newcomers wore a white and grey uniform much tighter than the priest’s robes the previous man wore. That, in combination with their confident poise, warrior’s build, and two semi-transparent lance blades atop a long fine-wood handle, confirmed them to belong to the Holy Sages- a worrying development.

One of the Sages was a tall man with black hair and brown eyes, who introduced himself as ‘The Holy Sage of Sovereignty’, or simply Sovereignty for short. The other Holy Sage was a barely-smaller woman with short honey-brown hair and green eyes, who was likewise called ‘The Holy Sage of Shielding’, or Shielding. They both spoke Deinian, but with heavy Helvetian accents, and although used polite words, were utterly devoid of emotion or inflection.

The male, Sovereignty, spoke first. “Who are you?”

Arwen bowed, but an intense feeling gripped her heart suddenly, as if something was attempting to draw out her words. She almost cringed at the odd sensation, but desperately hid it. “I- I am Princess Arwen Blayney of Cyfoeth. I am-”

“No,” Sovereignty cut her off. “Who are you?”

“W-what? I… I don’t…” Arwen stammered, caught completely off guard. Something about Sovereignty’s gaze seemed to be affecting her in some way. “What do you mean?”

“Strip away the fancy title,” the Holy Sage commanded. “And tell me who you are.”

Arwen found herself growing cold as a fearful stress washed over her back. Whatever she was feeling in her chest grew stronger, culminating into an almost fervency that robbed her of breath. What was happening to her?! “I am Arwen Blayney.” She managed to get out.

“No!” Sovereignty hissed, and the intense feeling grew even more. “Who… are… you?”

“An example,” his companion, Shielding, mercifully offered explanation. “I am a protector, a keeper of information and a guardian of progress. I am one who oversees the Church’s future.”

Sovereignty agreed. “Now tell me who you are.”

Arwen had no idea what to say. “Uhm… I… I am a Princess of…”

“No,” once again, she was cut off. “Who are you?”

“I don’t know what you mean!” she protested, growing upset at the strange question.

“Who are you?!”

“I!” Arwen froze. “I am… I’m one who… I…”

But then a veil of darkness clouded her mind, and she broke eye contact. “…I don’t know who I am.”

A brief silence ensued.

“Stay still, Arwen Blayney,” Sovereignty commanded, resting his left hand on a glowing white bracelet. Arwen’s eyes widened as she recognised the transparent material filled with green motes and streaks, just like her Light Gem, before the harsh crushing sensation in her chest blossomed into a full wave of dizziness that almost sent her stumbling.

“Yes?” Shielding cocked her head at her companion, who had his eyes closed as his bracelet relayed the information into his head.

“She is indeed Arwen Blayney, Princess and heir of the throne to Cyfoeth,” Sovereignty answered, sounding particularly unimpressed. “She is a sixteen-year-old female- a fledgling lightning mage of average skill and weak power. She possesses an old artifact known as the Light Gem, though she is wary of its power and isn’t well synchronised.”

“The Light Gem?”

“It’s in possession of the Cyfoethian Royal Family,” Sovereignty enlightened his companion, lowering his hand away from his bracelet and dulling its glowing splendour. The strangling feeling in Arwen’s chest and mind immediately ceased. “It allows access to one’s foremost memories and lets them commune with deceased loved ones. It’s a healing artifact, purely mental. It also allows the wielder to see the dead, though this is largely inconsistent and seems to be highly dependent on the wielder’s mental state.”

“Tell me,” Shielding captured the Princess’s gaze. “Do you see the dead often?”

“Uhh…” Arwen swallowed, still deeply unsure of herself but otherwise glad she was no longer being assaulted by whatever power that bracelet seemed to have on her. “O-only once.”

Sovereignty nodded. “She is unwilling to face the world, and so the Light Gem is merciful in its protection.”

“What are you talking about?!” Arwen protested, abandoning all pretence of politeness.

“Tell me about your pirates.” Sovereignty ignored the question.

Arwen hesitated, then relayed the same information she gave the previous unnamed Church member. Both Sovereignty and Shielding listened in silence, though the Princess was unsure whether or not they were actually interested or not. When she finished, Sovereignty nodded to himself.

Shielding faced her companion and confirmed one of Arwen’s fears. “It’s the Dark Orb.”

Sovereignty allowed an almost wistful look to cross his face. “The artifice returns at long last…”