1

The place looked vaguely similar to a courtroom, ironically enough. It was somewhat better maintained and vertically aligned compared to the rest of the decrepit mansion. There were no windows, only one way in. Towards the back end of the room stood a long, hefty table, curved in a semicircle like horse shoe, with the open side facing the entrance, and nine great chairs were set along the arc, evenly spaced. Candle stands stood by the side walls, giving the room a dim but just about adequate, moody lighting.

The purpose of the room couldn’t be left a mystery to anyone who had spent more than a day on the island of Harm’s Haven. This was where the leaders of the pirate Confederacy gathered in private, a club house and a conference room, where legislation, battle plans, trade negotiations, and friendly bonding occurred side by side.

At that table, they were all equals. Before a true kingdom or a political alliance, the Confederacy considered themselves a brotherhood of spirit, and their common abhorrence for earthly shackles was surely proof enough of the kindred blood in them, however different the personalities.

Yuliana found herself in an exceptionally awkward position, seated on a lonely chair facing the council table. Being the centerpiece of this crisis and the cause of their gathering, it was only natural that she should be present. Yet, she couldn’t help but feel terribly out of place. It was like she was a criminal herself, a suspect to be interrogated under the gazes of heartless judges. She had to remind herself that the real Law was entirely on her side, to hold onto her courage.

Directly in front of her majesty, on a chair slightly larger than the others, sat the King of Pirates himself, Captain Cartognam, as legendary as he was notorious, dreaded as a villain by some and revered a hero by others. But looking at the man now, all Yuliana could see was her childhood friend, the Prince of Luctretz. The young man from the Court of Efastopol, who had once tried so hard to appear more mature and dignified in her eyes than he had in reality felt himself to be.

Yuliana could only marvel at how far their paths had taken them in these brief years since.

But much further still they had to go.

One by one, the other eight captains took their seats at the table.

Yuliana had spent a lot of time trying to imagine what kind of terrible renegades they were.

In her mind, the Confederate captains had appeared tall as mountains, heartless as rocks, loud as thunder, and deadly as daemons, but reality surprised her again. Seeing them all in front of her now, Yuliana realized she had seen several of them already before this day, here and there on the island, never recognizing their rank. There was the dark man who had taken her to the Prince on that fateful night more than a week ago; there was an old, oriental woman, who ran a local apothecary store; there was a Cottish sailor she had seen in the audience of Waramoti’s concert, loudly whistling and cheering with a tankard in hand. The others didn't seem any more formidable.

The way they would greet the Prince and chat with one another made it soon apparent they weren’t literally heartless, but ordinary human beings, likely with family, friends, and life stories full of events also other than remorseless murder and mayhem—if there was any of that to begin with. Not any larger or stranger than the rest of the colorful people on the island.

It was a bit of a disappointment, really.

Then again, there were obvious exceptions too.

When that person appeared, quietly taking her seat, the rest of the room fell at once quiet, and the Prince directed a most unpleasant scowl her way.

“Captain Qi-Weler…?” he growled in a low tone, not hiding his animosity. “What is the meaning of this? I’m fairly certain I had you banished from here under the pain of death!”

——“That you did, aye.”

While Sai-Lin sat down without a word, not reacting to the Prince’s questioning, another voice answered on the woman's behalf. It was the tall man who had come in after the enchantress, dark and gray as a phantom from the beyond halls of Hel.

Captain Greystrode.

“A decision, which I saw necessary to overturn with my veto,” the old captain declared, stepping over to his seat on the left side of the Prince. “I have that right, as the eldest of the captains. So that I could, with my wealth of experience, keep my King from committing thoughtless deeds that he might later come to regret. For it is my firm belief that no captain of this Council should be dismissed so lightly. We are all here for a good reason, after all, and worked hard for our keys.”

“Captain Qi Weler has violated the Code and the will of our King!” Captain Aprophiste stood and retorted. “The rules are against her!”

“Aye,” Greystrode made no effort to deny the accusation, gripping the backrest of his chair. “But we, of all people, should put the spirit of the law before the letter of it. She broke the Code, true. She did so out of a misguided will to protect our community from the true enemy of the free people: the lass who sits there in front of your eyes. And I, for one, have not the heart to blame her.”

“Because it was under your orders that she did it, yes?” the Prince retorted with a scowl.

“Oh-ho-ho!” Greystrode chuckled in answer. “You wound me, my King. Have you any proof to show for these heavy allegations you throw in the face of your brother?”

The Prince remained quiet. Of course, there was no proof. If questioned, Sai-Lin would doubtless insist she had acted alone. He could still have both of them dismissed from the Council, if he pressed it. He was confident the majority of the captains remained faithful to him. But it was going to be an ugly and damaging effort, and now, if ever, was not the time for infighting. Every hour was precious, and all aid crucial.

“Take your seats then, if they are so dear to you!” the Prince told the two rogues. “But know that you couldn’t have picked a worse spot for your games!”

Greystrode sat down and silence followed.

All the nine captains were now gathered.

Giving everyone left and right of him a look, the Prince stood up and opened the meeting.

“My brothers and sisters,” he said. “Dearest friends and past enemies! It warms my heart to see you all in one place again after three long years, hale and whole. Had only it happened under cheerier winds! But the reason I’ve called you together today is nothing so easy or plain. It is the most hideous affair to have ever befallen our order since the day you gave me this seat. Nay, this is surely a test unlike any other our fellowship has seen in all of its history. Before we get to the heart of the matter, greet the lady you see before you! As I presume you all know, she is not an outsider to our business: her majesty, the Empress of Tratovia.”

They would’ve been poor commanders indeed, had her majesty’s presence remained unknown to them for so long. But not all had yet seen Yuliana with their own eyes, and they now all looked at her, unable to hide the wonder on their faces.

“Aye,” the Prince grimly continued. “Speak of misguided deeds! In my attempt to strike against the Empire, our sworn enemy, the power that threatens all freedom in Noertia, I have unwittingly invited our doom upon us! There is to be no ransom. No gold or quarter for her majesty. Only this very morning, I returned from Efastopol, where I paid witness to scenes of Hel itself. The Pearl of the Edrian Bay has fallen to Tratovia! With treachery, the city has been taken, and its might harnessed to bring our brotherhood to its end. On land, any and all vaguely resembling pirates, or sporting so much as passing ties to one, are hunted down like dogs and hanged by the streets! They pay blood money for our heads and reward betrayers with a pardon. Such is the state of things.”

Quite the commotion followed the news, temporarily overtaking the hall. How could it be true? How could Luctretz be captured so soon? Not least amazed among them was Yuliana herself. Never could she have imagined such developments might take place in the span of two brief weeks since her departure from Bendehol.

When the noise eventually settled, the Prince continued,

“I saw in Efastopol's harbor gathered a fleet greater than any I’ve ever beheld on these waters. It’s been assembled for the explicit purpose of destroying us and this island. Sailors are threatened, tortured, bribed, and murdered, to yield the location of our sanctuary, and it is my belief they already have it.”

“Damned gutless curs!” Captain Fijord cried and hit the table with his fist. “I swear, when I find out who squealed, I will make them dearly regret it, in this life and the next!”

“...The Imperials have their ways! Pity the fool!” the Prince said. “Before that, we need to act fast. By my estimate, the Royal Navy should be ready to sail out tomorrow morning. That means, they will reach here ere the end of the week.”

There appeared to be no limit to the bad tidings. Yuliana clutched her knees in dismay. Was the Prince telling the truth? He couldn’t have! Her confidants should have known her heart better than to start wars and bloodshed in her name, under any circumstances. Hadn't she set sail to promote peace and sign armistices in the first place!

Yet, all that had followed was the very opposite.

“That explains a great many things,” Captain Kayes spoke. “In Idalho, the crew of one of my ships deserted without warning in the dead of the night. But two days after, our hidden warehouse was raided by a Royal task force. The deserters had to have sold us out. Barely got away myself.”

“Explains, it does,” Captain Ghrimeldi echoed. “Over these two weeks, several of my old contacts have ceased correspondence, or went back on their pledges without so much as a passing excuse. The only reason I was free to answer the summons was because there was simply no more business left to do. Suppose I'm closing shops for good then.”

The same stories of sudden shifts in the climate were repeated elsewhere as well. The fires of the pirate hunt that the Imperials had started in Efastopol were fast spreading throughout the coastal lands, east and west. All of the human realm was catching fire, it seemed.

“Aye. This is happening,” the Prince concluded, surveying the line of crestfallen faces. “I first called this meeting together to discuss our terms to the Imperials—but now, we must discuss our means of survival instead. Personally, I see very little choice in the matter. The sanctuary must be evacuated. We have to get all the civilians to safety, before the Navy falls on us.”

Yuliana couldn’t keep quietly listening any longer. She stood up, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Please, you have to let me go! Take me back to the Imperials! I will make them stop this madness! There’s no need for more people to be hurt for my sake!”

As much as the Prince would have liked to agree without further ado, and had indeed meant to, he had his role to mind. Not saying anything right away, he glanced at his fellow Confederates.

“With all due respect,” Captain Kayes said, “we have no guarantee the Imps will actually end their raid, even if we do give up her majesty. Rather, wouldn’t we be only handing over our sole bargaining chip for no gain?”

“They will listen to me!” Yuliana insisted. “I will make them! You have my word!”

“And what worth is this word of yours to us?” Captain Fijord retorted. “Who says you’ll honor it?”

Yuliana could find no retort. Frustrating as it was, he had a point. They didn’t know her, and she had nothing to offer in exchange for their faith either.

“They’re not taking us seriously at all, are they?” Captain Ghrimeldi said. “Perhaps a little demonstration would be in order? If her majesty could part with an ear, or a hand, perhaps, it might make her people a good deal more co-operative.”

“……”

Both Yuliana and the Prince were quite reluctant towards such proposals.

“I would not stoke those flames any more than we already have,” the Prince argued. “In Efastopol, I met the leader of the Imperial side, this fiend of a woman who calls herself, ‘Grand Marshal’. She made it clear to me there will be no bargaining, and her majesty's safety is the sole thing between us and oblivion. I see no reason to doubt what they mean to do to this island, after seeing what they did to the city. It must not come to that, no matter what.”

“Master…” Yuliana quietly groaned, and suddenly things started to make more sense to her. She buried her face in her hands, hoping dearly that the earth would swallow her. Why was everyone close to her such a warmongering maniac, anyway?

“There’s no denying we’re small time when it comes to comparing atrocities with the Imps,” Captain Tungsten agreed. “After all, most of our tricks come from their books, and it wasn’t so long ago that they paid us to do it for them. If they’re going all-out now, I don’t see a whole lot of choice.”

“The bleeding Hel can we do then?” Captain Kayes asked. “Scurry off with tails between the legs? That doesn’t sit so well with me!”

“If we did that, there would be no corner where they wouldn’t laugh at us,” Captain Fijord concurred. “Might as well cut our own bellies here and now!”

“Don’t we have slightly more important things than worrying about strangers laughing at you?” the Prince told them. “We have more to lose than empty fame, or even our lives. Don’t we have things to protect? Things we love? Gold, rum—well, some of us have family too.”

His sarcastic words silenced the rest of them for a moment of earnest self-reflection.

“Being feared and respected feels good, aye,” the Prince continued. “But before we had all that, there was something else too. There was a time when we were content with just being alive and free. When I joined up, this place was much worse off than it is now. But did anybody cry and moan back then? Nay. Because we knew better. We had this wisdom. We knew that all things must pass. People can betray you. Buildings can be burned down. Money can be stolen. Power can be lost. Ships can be sunk. But the sea will never let you down. Out there, she’s the way she is, has always been, and will so continue to be. She bends to no mortal whims! No time can change her. And for as long as you have a splinter of wood and a sail, she’ll welcome you back with open arms. It’s out there that you can be who you truly are, and no one can take that from you. That fine line on the horizon is your castle, and the stars your glimmering treasure. Are you telling me it’s not enough for you anymore? If it’s not, then what is? Or is anything?”

No one spoke a word for a long time after he finished and sat back down. Even Yuliana, who had spent all her life on solid land, began to feel a mysterious longing for distant waves and could almost hear the rattle of sails in her ears.

Then, that solemn moment became interrupted.

“All things must pass, aye,” Captain Greystrode said and stood. “They will, should you let them. So why not take a stand for it?”

The others directed questioning glances at the old man.

“You’ve heard your King, gents,” he continued. “They’re coming to take our sea from us. Doesn’t sit well with you, you say? Going from being your own lord to an unwanted immigrant? Having your ship go from the vessel of your dreams to a shabby refuge? Yet, you’ll do nothing about it. You lack the spine to. And I’m bloody well ashamed of you!”

Greystrode raised his voice, like scolding misbehaving children. Regaining his cool just as quickly, he shortly resumed,

“They want battle—why shouldn't we give them one? No one even suggests this! Why’s that, do you fear the 'mighty Empire' so? It’s simple; our King has lost faith in you. He fears that even should you sail out, cutlasses drawn, decks beaming, harpoons sharpened, you’d do so only to drown. He fears that you will meet no glorious end on the field of conquest, but crack and crumble, and come to an end so miserable, so completely wretched, that it’d be better for you to have never tried. He’s grown this fond of you, though he won’t say it! He wants to spare you of what awaits, and who can rightly blame him? Looking at you lot, all I see are children cowering in the shadow of their daddy, basking in his loving care, unable to take but one step out towards being real men. You’ve grown demented, spoiled rotten by the continuous ease of success. You run your little ‘businesses’ here and there, counting copper, twiddling your little thumbs, and your hands can no longer even recall the feel of halyards! A disgrace to your ancestors, that’s what you are! Our King sees you already hanging from the masts of your ships, and his dread for you drags him down like an anchor. But even then, he forgives you. Great is his heart! He soothes your battered ego with fair words, telling you—aye, it’s fine to roll over and play dead, if only you live. Live! He’ll abandon the sanctuary he built from the rubble for you, to keep you and yours safe, while there’s no family or safety for him! Is that really who you are? Ever-gutless cowards who’d abandon a brother to save yourselves, your vanity, your ego? And do nothing but sit there, whining about it? No. No. No way. I know you’re all better than this.”

Greystrode leaned on the table and looked slowly around, long and hard, bringing his voice down lower.

“This is one of those moments, gents,” he said. “The ones they write books about and sing. It’s the time to make history, now or nevermore. Here, my friends, is where you show your King what you’re made of. So I say, we set sail! We sail out—not to run, but to meet the enemy head-on! And we teach those wretches what happens, when you step on the tail of a dragon!”

The Council might not have been all fond of Greystrode, as a person, but his words didn’t fail to provoke a defiant ire in close to all of them, lashing at their half-dormant pride. Now they were all slamming fists at the table, gritting their teeth, assuring one another with steeled gazes that they were every bit the leaders they were meant to be. The evacuation and safety of the civilians had been converted into cowardice in their minds, massacre into bravery, hubris into truest wisdom.

But Yuliana couldn’t listen to such a rally without interfering.

This turn was the exact opposite of what she and the Prince wished for.

“Enough of this madness, Captain Greystrode!” she exclaimed, jumping up from her seat again. “You can’t go to war! This isn’t about who’s right and who’s wrong, or anyone’s empty pride! Have not enough lives been lost already? Spilling more blood still isn’t going to be the end of it! It will only make things so much worse! No one may walk out of such a calamity a winner! You have to negotiate with them!”

“Why, your majesty,” the old man replied with a grin, “do you expect us to believe you worry for the well-being of lowlifes now? Or could it be, it is the future of your mighty Empire that frightens you?”

“What?” Yuliana paused, taken aback.

“Yes!” he leered. “Should the joint navy of those two great nations be decimated in battle now, you may begin to find your gloomy Throne a rather shaky chair to sit on! How do you think your prideful people themselves will feel, if their wonderful Sovereign and her commanders are torn down by lowborn fishermen? Mayhap they’ll soon begin to look for a more qualified replacement? Maybe all those provinces your steely regime has subjugated over the centuries will begin to hear the irresistible call of liberty once again…?”

“…You would blow mankind apart in the name of freedom?” Yuliana asked, her expression twisting in disbelief. “You would even exploit the most noble ideals of our species, drive countless to death and ruin, only to advance your private ends? To safeguard your criminal way of life? Truly, if there ever was a man beyond redemption, you’d be dreadfully close to one!”

“Hear! I stand rebuked by a dictator!” Greystrode laughed at her. “If her majesty so trembles, then the wind must be blowing our way! Now choose, good captains! If you are captains at all, and not only expired peddlers! If you are men and women, and not mere jesters in suits! Will you flee to the ends of the earth before this little girl’s Empire? Or will you stand your ground and fight! Fight, in defense of your homes and your King! Choose at once, or never open your mouth again! It’s yay or nay tonight, and nothing in between! Whosoever refuses to vote is to leave this Council, and this island, and not come back! Vote! Or hand over your key!”

Finished, Captain Greystrode sat back down.

The Prince looked slowly around, his face hard as rock.

One couldn’t tell it by his looks, but he felt like one already hanging at the end of a loose rope. So quickly and easily were the cards turned against him. He had expected Greystrode to oppose all of his intentions, yes, but not in such a manner. The old captain had painted him as a noble martyr of his people; if he tried to argue against any of it now, he would only take apart his own authority in tandem. By refusing the vote and rejecting the option of battle, he would eject himself from the Council and their leadership. And without him and Erynmir, only death awaited these men and women, and the uninvolved people of the island.

What else could he do now but follow the script laid out for him to its end?

A prince or a pirate, is this all my role ever amounts to…?

Veiling his internal conflict with care, the Prince raised his grim voice,

“So we vote! All who stand in favor of confronting the Royal Navy by force, raise your hand and say, aye.”

Standing behind his argument, of course, Greystrode readily raised his hand and loudly declared, “Aye!”

A seat left from him, Sai-Lin raised her hand as well, to no surprise of anyone.

A hot-blooded viking at heart, Captain Fijord firmly lifted his arm high up soon after, and dropped his heavy fist on the table. “Aye!”

Right from him, Captain Ghrimeldi raised her hand too, though that hand was visibly shaking and her wrinkled face pale. “Aye.”

As did Captain Tungsten. And Captain Samalda.

Captain Aprophiste made a troubled expression, his gaze briefly visiting the Prince. He knew the Prince’s mind perhaps better than the others, but there was no use of him being alone in opposition. He also raised his hand. “Aye.”

Not looking terribly willing, but likewise perceiving no alternative, Captain Kayes as well raised his hand. “Bugger all! Aye.”

There was no need to count the votes.

The decision was unanimous.

Yuliana knew she had to say something. But what? Her voice wouldn’t come out. How could she change the minds of these renegades all by herself? There was no time to think, no way to prepare. And what little the silence lasted was soon spent.

Opposite of her, his countenance like the shadow of death, the Prince stood up.

“The Council has decided,” he concluded. “Then it shall be my honor—to lead you to battle with me. Assemble the fleet.”

But honor and gladness alike were missing from his voice and expression.

2

The Council was scheduled to resume after a break, yet Yuliana was unceremoniously dismissed from the second half. The captains were going to discuss their forces and strategy, and the enemy figurehead’s presence was obviously not wanted or needed.

At the Prince’s request, Smith, the Quartermaster of the Tempest, left to escort Yuliana back to the town. The Prince was too ashamed to look her in the eye. He had failed her trust, and could now only drink the bitter cup he had made for himself, to the last drop. Feeling rather sorry for him, but not knowing how to help either, Yuliana followed Smith through the jungle, lost in thought.

Large, dark clouds were gathering above the island, blowing from the west.

“Looks like it’ll be a stormy night coming again, your majesty,” Smith observed. “Might be the godmother of the other day, by the looks of ‘er. Coming with a vengeance, no doubt.”

“I suppose so,” Yuliana absentmindedly mumbled.

“Try not be too worried, aye?” he tried to encourage her. “The Cap’n and Eryn will look after you, whatever happens. The rest of us too, of course, the best we can. You may think of us all aboard the Tempest as friends, if you like. We’ll be on your side, through thick and thin.”

“Thank you,” she replied with a tired smile and felt slightly better.

“Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this,” Smith continued to chat, as they hiked through the woods. “The Cap’n’s not gonna like it. But I’ve known him since he was a wee lad. Always admired you, he did. Said you were one tough cookie, for a gal—he said it in a good way, mind you. He wouldn’t say the same about a lot of women. You must’ve left an impression.”

“How come you know him so well, Mr Smith?” Yuliana asked, surprised. “Who were you, before you became a...well...”

“—A pirate?” Smith laughed. “Just call ‘em as you see ‘em, your majesty. I was no nobleman, or a royal butler, if that’s what you’re thinking. I helmed the family yacht. Took the boy and his parents around, and that’s all I ever did. I guess, after his pa died, he came to depend on me a little more. He didn’t have much real friends at the Court, but I’d cover for him whenever he went on his little escapades. Partners-in-crime ever since. Always loved the sea, he did. I taught him every trick I knew about handling a brig, and ere long, he was the one taking me to places. Across the sea, even. Though that trip was a tad too much, if you ask me...”

Yuliana could only smile at the story.

“Thank you, Mr Smith,” she said again. “For being there for him. A hero or a villain, no one should have to face the world all alone, I think.”

“Aye, well,” Smith awkwardly mumbled, scratching his head. “I never had a son of my own...Or well, did. Once, a lifetime ago. My boy died when he was only three summers old. Drowned. Nearly lost my taste for salt after that. But the Cap’n helped me find it again. For that—for just that—I’d go to Hel and back for him.”

They parted ways at the town square. Smith left to share the news with the ship crew, and Yuliana went to find Waramoti for the same purpose. She soon found him too, at a campfire on the northern beach. It was one of the regular spots where the local artists tended to hold their rehearsals, or just drink and kill time. She took him away from the others and told him all she had heard at the Council, sparing no detail, and the bard listened to the report in silence.

“I’m lost, Waramoti,” Yuliana openly confessed at the end of her account. “I left to bring peace and all I did was start a war! Whichever side wins the bloodbath that is to follow, a great many lives will be lost. And the people of this island will no doubt come to pay a heavy price for it. Have you ever heard a tale as absurd and wretched as mine?”

“Weeeell…” The bard drew breath. “Maybe a few.”

“What are we going to do?” she lamented, shaking her head. “Is there no way we can keep this disaster from unfolding at this point? I’d do anything, if only I knew the way.”

Waramoti gazed up at the darkening sky for a moment, without speaking.

“Say,” he then called, pointing upward. “Could you stop that cloud over there?”

“Eh?” she frowned at his strange question and looked at where he was aiming.

“That big, dark one. Could you turn it away from here? I don’t like how it looks.”

“Obviously, I can’t,” Yuliana answered him with a highly annoyed look.

Why was he fooling around now when she was trying to discuss such important matters?

The bard ignored her look.

“It’s going to rain soon,” he said. “Could you keep all the droplets from hitting land? Could you turn the wind? It’d make a lot of people happy if you did.”

“No, I can’t do that,” Yuliana irritably replied. “What exactly are you trying to say?”

“That you’re human,” Waramoti replied with a smirk. “Did you already forget? You became the Empress not at will, but out of necessity, yes? Yet, in these few brief months, you’ve already nurtured the bravado matching the rank. Isn’t that quite funny?”

“I fail to see any fun about it…” she mumbled, looking wryly at the bonfire before their feet.

“Wars start and end at your whim, strangers' lives are lost and saved by mere words—don’t you find that way of thinking rather presumptuous? Exceedingly so. You’ve spent a great deal of time assuring others that nobles are human too, yet you yourself most stubbornly refuse to acknowledge this. You’re taking on unreasonable burdens. I’ve seen the same happen many times before. It’s a common syndrome ailing a great many heroes. But at the end of the day, you are still a corporeal mortal, the same as myself and anyone else, yes? And ever so far from almighty.”

“I don’t think our human affairs and the weather are quite comparable,” Yuliana argued, but the bard’s friendly smile prevented her from growing too upset.

“Personally, I don’t see all that much difference,” he told her. “Look at it this way: people are a lot like clouds in that they do what is in their nature to do, even if it goes against what you or I personally wish for them, or even their own best interests. Pretending otherwise will only ever end in frustration. Either you accept this, or else you reject the idea that they were ever free creatures to start with. Taking control of their behavior, denying any chance of anyone being miserable by any means—that sounds a whole lot like genuine tyranny to me.”

“That was—” Yuliana began to say, but fell quiet in the middle.

She suddenly recalled her argument with the Lord of Light. Wasn’t this precisely what they had been talking about? But back then, their roles had been reversed. It had been Yuliana arguing for the free will of the created. But what she’d actually had in mind was merely the freedom to do the right thing. But how could a person be called truly free, if she wasn't allowed to choose wrong? This didn’t mean she approved of the consequences, but it did make her understand the Divine’s perspective a little better.

What if she possessed the godly power to take control of people's fate? Would it have been morally acceptable to do, if it meant preventing this war and saving the lives of hundreds of people in the process? Perhaps it was better that she didn't have such an option.

As Yuliana kept sullenly staring at the glowing coals on the sand, Waramoti set his lute aside and crossed his fingers.

“I believe your love for humankind blinds you to that one essential truth you need to be aware of first and foremost, if you wish to be the leader of them. You can’t help those who don’t wish to be helped. Even if you somehow could, you shouldn’t. You mustn’t, in a misguided attempt to correct the mistaken, let the wants of such people overshadow those who truly seek salvation. So it is that in our desire to avoid pain, we people often end up causing the greatest suffering for all. Sometimes, to bring peace, there is no choice but to fight, and make known the consequences we caution others about. The world won’t judge us or decide what is right or wrong on our behalf; it is we people, who must judge ourselves.”

Her majesty looked up to the gray skies, at heart unwilling to admit he was right, though her reason insisted otherwise. That internal conflict frustrated her more than anything the pirates had said.

“I just want no life to be lost in vain, if only there is a way to prevent this,” she said.

“And I understand that desire well,” Waramoti said. “Certainly, all who love life wish the same. But was it not to oppose the pirates that you first set sail? Not to bring peace, but to force your way, to do what you saw was necessary for the greater good? Perhaps it didn’t go precisely the way you intended, but as far as I see, you now stare at the face of your choice. And the opponent has made theirs, as is their right. The spirit of the law is to judge everyone not for who they are, but for what they do and why. Isn’t that so? In that case, I don’t see much confusion in here. Our road lies clear before us.”

Yuliana didn’t have the spirit to outright admit he was right. Instead, she said,

“You certainly speak well and convincingly for one so young, Waramoti.”

The bard grimaced in answer. “I’m not a kid...”

Yuliana smiled at his reaction, before growing more serious again.

“You’re saying this war was good as foretold then,” she said. “And attempting to stop it now would be tantamount to parting the skies. All that we may is fight and ensure it ends favorably for the right side. But that is only where the true challenge begins! My alignment should be clear, yet there are people on both sides who have no blame and deserve any help they can get. Regardless, there can be no question that one of the forces sailing out there will never see home again. In your expert opinion, Waramoti, which do you think it will be?”

“No expert could tell you that,” Waramoti answered with a shrug. “This is a battle outside common sense. The Confederacy has a dragon. Normally, that would be an insurmountable obstacle to any human army. But Erynmir is still young, and if the Imperials have called that person...It could go either way, really.”

“Oh, Captain Greystrode is behind all this!” Yuliana sighed. “If only he weren’t there, it wouldn’t have come to this!”

“Yes, that man,” the bard nodded. “What I’ve heard of him paints a grim picture. Too unruly, even for a pirate. But the Council has little choice but to tolerate him. He’s sailed these seas a long time and extended his influence far on water and land. Without the man, his fleet, and coin, there would be no Confederacy at all. Every King needs his vassals. The Prince can ill afford to oppose Greystrode on the eve of battle. Without Greystrode, defeat is certain, and Harm’s Haven will burn. And the one most deserving of punishment would be the only one to escape reckoning.”

If the situation was difficult for Yuliana, it was twice so for the Prince. What was only a matter of ideals and principles for her was all personal for him. He had people precious to him on both sides of the Bay. Luctretz was his birth home, the land of his family and ancestors; but in Harm’s Haven were the family and friends of his heart. The war between the two had to be the mother of all nightmares for him. One from which he couldn't awaken.

“Prince…” Yuliana whispered, clenching her small fists in regret.

Even before the people of Harm’s Haven, she wished to help him, though she knew not how.

As she thought about this, the heavenly salvo began. A few heavy drops, like enormous pearls fell down about them, like warning shots, and shortly after came a downpour of growing intensity. Those at the beach were forced to quickly seek shelter.

They withdrew to a tall cottage nearby, where the musicians and other free spirits of the island had their home, Waramoti among them. But in such a tight and lively company, it became impossible to discuss any secrets.

Since the Confederate captains were in town, it was a given that there would be a big party tonight, and likely thrice as noisy as usual, considering their plans. Whether victorious or not, some would not come back, and this was their last chance to feel alive. And since there was going to be a party, there would have to be music too. The performers were busy preparing, planning the set list, and getting dressed up. As the rising star of Harm’s Haven, there was no way Waramoti could be excluded from these arrangements. Everyone wanted to pair up with him for a show, or asked him for tips and ideas.

Yuliana found herself sitting by herself, watching the hustle and bustle, feeling unusually alone despite the company. She gazed through the window to the rainy sea, not thinking about much anything, tired and worried sick about her friends out there. She was certainly in no mood for parties on such a day.

The wind and the rain weren’t letting up, even as night fell, but that hampered the spirits of the islanders little. Lanterns were lit all over the canyon and lamps burned behind each window. At the coming of dark, they all departed for the Winker and the other taverns, and Yuliana took this chance to return to her private quarters.

“I’m sorry,” she told Waramoti, “but it’s been a long day and I need to be alone.”

“As you wish,” the bard nodded with a sympathetic look, and a tap on her majesty’s shoulder. “Rest well then! And have faith. Everything will look brighter tomorrow, I’m sure!”

Yuliana forced a smile without an answer, and saw off the troupe.

She took the rain-flooded footpath up to her detached dwelling on the steep, lush hill, battling the western gale. She was already drenched, but had a spare set of clothes waiting for her indoors. Shame there was no chimney. It was going to be a chilling night, no doubt.

Yuliana unlocked the front door with her key, made sure it was securely locked again behind her, and climbed up the creaking stairs to the attic. Tired, she unlocked the smaller door and slipped into her cramped haven and locked the door again. With a sigh, she turned in and began to take off her blouse—but her hands stopped at the first button.

Yuliana wasn’t alone in the room.

Smoke hovered in the air. Someone sat under the little round window in the dark, waiting, a pipe in hand. With a snap of fingers, several little candles were ignited here and there in the room, bringing the terrible trap to light.

“Welcome home!” Sai-Lin greeted the girl with a wide grin. “Kept me waiting, your majesty! Which would you like to have first? Dinner, a bath—or death?”