“Madame Mathilda’s ship docked two days ago and has already been turned over to the King for any documents or stowaways. Currently it is sitting at the dock with a handful of Knights guarding it, that as well as finding a crew at such short notice to sail the damn thing is the next problem,” Annika explained to Clara as she swept down the corridor of her keep while removing her cloak and handing it to her maid.

“I will draft the proposal for Elizabeth Nonata’s release into my care for Mr. Howard. He won’t like it, but I think my counter proposal for her punishment and subsequent use will be-” Annika froze when she entered her chamber. Her hand had already begun unbuttoning the leather vest she wore, but fortunately hadn’t gotten very far.

Janelle Piereva stood waiting, her gaunt face and deadened stare regarding Annika emotionlessly. The Viscountess’ hand fell away from the vest hastily and thanked the Gods that she had opted to purchase one that was a size too large as it covered the curve of her belly.

“Might I… have a word with you, sister?” Lady Piereva curtsied, briefly, and straightened again.

Annika hesitated momentarily before nodding in affirmation. As she turned to close the door after Clara, she leaned forward and whispered:

“Begin assembling the crew. Even if it has to be members of the household. They won’t be seen if we do things right.”

“Yes, my Lady.” The maid bowed her head then slipped into the shadows of the corridor to carry out her mistress’ orders.

Turning back to her sister-in-law, Annika braced herself. The woman hadn’t spoken a word since arriving, instead she would occasionally rock her daughter to sleep, or stare out the window for hours, barely eating or drinking…

“Janelle, is there anything I can do for you?”

“You… You were the one Charles was reporting to, weren’t you.” The hollowed voice made Annika’s heart clench.

The worst part was… she knew she still couldn’t tell her the truth.

“What do you mean? Charles was killed because of the King’s ire over Phillip.” Annika’s pained expression was completely genuine.

“Don’t… don’t lie to me. Charles wouldn’t risk his family just for the sake of rebelling. He would only do something so stupid for you. For the only family member he never could protect while growing up.”

The Viscountess felt her throat ache and her stomach turn at the woman’s words. “Charles would come here and I would give him money, but I never-”

“Was that it? Did Phillip cut us off so horrifically that Charles came to you for help? Did you exploit him to spy for you in exchange for keeping us taken care of?” Janelle’s eyes glimmered, her voice was still quiet, but still made her sister-in-law wince.

“No. Charles came here to receive the money himself because otherwise Phillip would’ve heard about me transporting the gold to him and interfered. You know this. I loved my brother, and I never-”

“You’re the coldest woman I’ve ever met.” Tears spilled over Janelle’s cheeks. “Did you not even bother to mourn the only family you have left? John is dead, your own husband is dead, Phillip is dead, now Charles… You’ve not ever mourned any of them.”

“I am mourning Charles, but I need to try and save-”

“There is always something. Always some selfish reason for you.” The widow moved to breeze past Annika, only the Viscountess grasped her by the arm firmly halting her in place.

“My older brothers, save for Charles, were not worth mourning. You did not grow up in my keep, Janelle. Now before you start casting judgment, I want you to think very carefully about how little you know. For starters, why do you think Mr. Helmer released you and your daughter to me alive?”

The widow’s expression became alarmed. “Did you barter Charles' life for ours?”

The darkness in Annika’s eyes when she gazed at her sister-in-law visibly shook the woman.

“Stop making me your enemy. It is King Matthais and the Chief of Troivackian Military responsible for this violence. I will see to it that you are safely hidden here in Daxaria and provided for comfortably.”

“I am not letting them bury Charles in a pauper's grave!” Janelle cried out angrily.

“My brother is going into the same soil one way or another. If you choose to return, you and your daughter will be buried right beside him and I won’t be able to do a thing to help.”

The Lady Piereva wrenched her arm free from Annika’s grasp, as she stared with pure hatred at her.

“I hope that you remain alone for the rest of your life. No man or child should have to suffer your heartlessness.”

Janelle stormed from the room, and the Viscountess said nothing in defence as her heart thudded in her chest.

A strange sense of foreboding welled up inside her as she turned and closed her chamber door behind herself, and did her best to push the troubling conversation out of her mind. She couldn’t be distracted yet. She still had to free Fin, and they still had a war to win…

Grieving would have to be stored for another day… a day where she could properly send her prayers of thanks to the only brother to ever show his little sister that she at least had one family member by her side.

***

Fin stared at the group of Troivackian soldiers with his arms folded over his chest, and his ankle crossed over his knee. A wry grin spread over his face, and despite the peaceful rock of the ship beneath them and the spectacularly beautiful span of starry night sky, the men remained fixated on him.

“There’s no way you can take three shots of Troivackian moonshine without tossing your dinner!” Stanley announced with a smug grin on his face.

“I bet you I can, and if I’m wrong I get to ask you each a question you have to answer honestly. Nothing to do with the war, I swear. If you opt out however… I get to decide your punishment,” Fin explained with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“You got yourself a bet, witch,” Bruce growled despite a smile curling his lips.

Fin nodded to the barrel surface where two small steel cups had been set.

Stanley stepped forward, bottle in hand as he poured the clear liquid into the small cup.

Still grinning, the redhead slowly reached forward, and lifted the glass.

“To all your health and happiness!” He tossed the liquor back easily.

The men all cheered and clapped.

“Lucky shot!”

“Beginner's fortune!”

“You won’t make it past the second!” One of the men called out from the back of the crowd making everyone including Fin laugh.

Bruce stepped forward then, a hyper demonic grin on his face as he poured the next shot to the brim.

The men began to chant in unanimous ‘Hohs’. As though they were preparing to attack- only they were all smiling.

The witch raised the small cup, briefly glancing over his shoulder to see his father and the captain watching the whole scene before giving them a wink and tossing back the second drink.

He grimaced, slammed the cup on the table and doubled over. After a moment, he straightened, sending the men into a fit of cheers and shouts.

“I must admit, you’re doing better than I thought you would,” Stanley muttered while stepping forward again.

The ship’s deck fell silent, and despite Fin knowing his father and ship’s captain stood watching him on the upper deck, he grinned at the men, and raised the cup again.

“A toast to your mothers, wives, and children. To your sacrifice for your country!”

The awkward silence that followed the last statement was eased by the redhead slinging back the third shot of moonshine without another word.

Immediately forgetting the moment before, the men all broke out in cheers and shouts of encouragement as the redhead remained hunched over for a moment. The back of his wrist rose to his mouth, which made the crowd fall quiet once again for a moment, before Fin slowly stood, and finally, punched his hand into the air in victory.

The uproar was deafening.

“Your son is quite… charming in his own way,” the captain observed with a small smile as Aidan observed the entire scene with his arms folded and a bemused look on his face.

“Indeed. It is quite impressive given that less than a year ago I heard he was practically a recluse on the island of Quildon,” the Chief of Troivackian of Military observed with a calculating stare.

Aidan stared at his son’s happy expression while he shared in the fun and encouraged the jubilant mood of the men, and couldn’t help but wonder what caused such a dramatic shift in Fin’s personality…

Was it because the redhead was finally with a man he loved?

Or perhaps was it that he was acting happy to make his father spiteful?

Aidan frowned. Neither option seemed like a whole truth, and this troubled him greatly.

“Alright! I get to ask each of you a question,” Fin announced with a slight flush in his cheeks.

The crowd chuckled then hushed as the redhead turned to the nearest soldier.

“What was the color of your mother’s eyes?”

The soldier visibly balked. “My… My mother? Dark, of course. Like any good Troivackian woman.”

“Were they cold or warm?” Fin prompted a little more softly.

“She… She was… warm in her own way. I know she loves me, but hides it as she should,” the man announced with a self assuring nod.

Fin said nothing but nodded in a vague understanding way before moving onto the next man.

“What is your favorite food?”

“We don’t have the luxury of multiple food options,” came the gruff accusatory answer. Only it was met with a cavalier shrug from the Daxarian hostage.

“Of all the things you’ve eaten to date, what is your favorite then? Remember, you swore to adhere to the bet.” There was a slight slur in Fin’s speech, which somehow made the men all the more awkward, and yet inclined to be honest.

“Your… Your potato flats were the best things,” the soldier muttered awkwardly as though expecting Fin to make the confession more painful.

The redhead didn’t say anything in response; however, and instead moved on to the next man for another strange question.

The captain and Aidan watched for a few more moments, but eventually resumed their previous conversation. Yet the Chief of Troivackian Military couldn’t help but feel a strange tickling in the back of his mind… he was beginning to wonder if understanding his son was something that was a little more difficult than he had originally assumed… and he didn’t care for that notion one bit.

Little did Aidan know, his son was working his way deeper into the crowd, with the sole intention of gaining the final piece of information that would make the King's mission a success... finding out how many men were going to attack Austice.

*

Fin was awoken the next morning with a searing pain in his arm, making him gasp and sit upright with difficulty in his hammock.

“You need to write your letter,” Aidan informed his son casually amongst the hammocks of snoring Troivackian soldiers, a single flame extending from his index finger.

The redhead blinked and glanced around himself, realizing that it was still night.

“The sun isn’t up yet,” he noted while slowly clambering out while experimentally tapping his forearm that was still stinging.

“I’m glad you inherited your mother’s talents of observation. The letter needs to be sent earlier if it is to get to your King at a reasonable hour,” the fire witch explained dryly while gesturing towards the ladder to the upper deck.

“The first degree burn was necessary because…?” Fin asked while slowly moving and keeping his gaze fixed on his father.

“A reminder that you are a little too comfortable amongst your enemies. Unless of course the past day has changed your mind pertaining to my offer.”

“It hasn't; I just know there isn’t much I can do against all of them if that’s what is going to happen.” Fin shrugged as he climbed up the ladder swiftly. His shoulder was still sore from his father’s first assault, the new burn on his forearm was on the opposite side, but the redhead had experienced enough of those injuries to know it’d scar without any other lasting damage.

Breathing in the cold sea air, Fin stared up at the night sky, and immediately stilled in awe. The galaxies spread before him in billions of twinkling lights with hues of different blues swept together by the Gods themselves.

“For a man with such an appreciation for life, you have a frightening lack of ambition or drive to survive.” Aidan’s voice beside Fin’s ear did nothing to detract from the beauty of the sky.

“I’ve achieved everything I ever wanted to in my life,” the House Witch informed his father with a sad smile on his face.

“What about that ring about your neck? Don’t you have to give that back to someone?”

“They can take it back if they need to.” Fin shrugged, and slowly pressed his hands into his pockets as his gaze then moved to the horizon.

“So I can kill you right this instant and you will have no problems with that?” Aidan asked while slowly stepping forward until he stood in his son’s line of view.

“I’d rather you not as I have some people who will be sad from it, but if there is no chance of survival, I’ve done all that is important.” Fin’s blue eyes that glowed in the light of the heavens, and his serene expression as a gentle breeze ruffled his hair, made Aidan feel something he wasn’t used to feeling… something he didn’t even know the name of…

Instead of lingering in the strange moment that was making his throat somehow hurt, the Troivackian Chief of Military turned and began striding over to the galley.

“Come on. Let’s get that letter sent.” Aidan turned but didn’t stare directly at his son again. “We will see the Troivackian King, and he will speak to you before your execution.”

Fin watched his father’s back briefly before once again turning to stare where the water and the sky met, and noticed the pink glow of dawn begin to rise between them. As he beheld the beauty of the new day for a few still precious moments, he noticed the unmistakable streak of red emerge over the waves, and something in his heart knew then that he would be lucky to see another sunrise.