“A sword held in your hands is no sword at all, Valeryn. It is your will and with it, there is nothing you cannot cut.”

-Avery Thynne, wife of Ir'rah.

…

Among calm waters, a large ship sailed without a sign of trouble in sight while its crew patrolled the deck in a dutiful manner.

Heading the mast of the ship was a flag depicting the image of a stag, the mark of some kingdom or another. It was likely that the destination of the ship was related to said flag.

Further inside the ship, a single soldier headed toward the captain’s quarters and gave a short knock.

“Enter,” A voice replied from inside.

“Sir Gerhardt! We have dealt with the stowaway claiming to have accidentally fallen aboard.” A naval guard saluted as he entered the quarters.

The captain, a stout man with a serious look about him, scratched at the stubble on his face as his brow pinched together. Eventually, he dipped a pen into an inkwell and began adding words to a piece of parchment in front of him.

“What of his possessions, Bertrand?” Gerhardt asked without raising his eyes.

“Ah, well, other than a few silver coins and an old saber, he had a belt with broken sword hilts affixed to it,” The young naval guard, Bertrand, replied.

“Hmm? Did he say what they were for?” Gerhardt inquired further.

“Yes, he did… Once I asked he gave me a strange look and claimed they were trophies.”

“He’s collecting broken swords as trophies? Is it possible that he is some sort of sellsword or assassin?” Gerhardt inquired, clearly hesitant to keep a possible danger aboard his ship.

“If we were to go by his own words, he’s something of a wandering sellsword.”

“Is that so? Does this sellsword have a name?”

“Valeryn,” Bertrand replied.

“Has he no family name or any formal titles?”

“He did call himself Valeryn of Ir’rah... I think it may have been his attempt to be funny, Sir.” The youthful knight replied.

“Hm, a drifting swordsman who hails from a mythical city? Ha, it seems we’re quite lucky ones to have such a person aboard.” Gerhardt spoke sarcastically before chuckling to himself. “I’m sure he’ll talk once we reach land. The torturers can be quite persuasive from what I’ve heard. Before then, try to see if he’ll talk anymore.”

“Yes, Sir.” Bertrand saluted before stepping outside once more.

The warm sea air tickled his nose while the clear sky seemed to bear good omens, so his steps became lighter as he descended the creaking wooden stairs of the lower decks.

Unlike the upper decks, the air below was stagnant with a sour odor floating around. Groups of men covered in their own filth were tightly bound in chains and huddled together. Whether they were bandits, criminals, or some deposed nobles who ran afoul of fate, they were all packed together like animals. The only exception one was a young man who happened to be graced with his own personal cell. Compared to everyone else, his condition was much better. In spite of the frayed sleeves of his shirt, dark trousers in a similar state, and worn boots, he seemed to hail from some noble bloodline. His jet-black hair, which wasn’t a very common color in most kingdoms, hung evenly over his shoulders. Even stranger were the yellow irises that were just barely visible beneath his half-closed eyes.

All the while, he produced an aloof grin as if all the troubles in the world weren’t his concern. He paid no heed to the shackles on his wrist and ankles, maintaining his tranquil expression as if he wasn’t a prisoner at all.

“Swordsman,” Bertrand spoke up as he arrived at the cell, scanning over Valeryn once more.

“Ah, you’re back to talk to him?” The jailor asked, scowling at the jovial captive, finding his peaceful mood to be an eyesore.

“Yes, has he said anything since I left?”

“Somethin’ bout feeling some swords in the distance... I really don’t know, all of it seems like hogwash to me.”

Bertrand nodded as he moved closer to the iron bars.

“Hey!” He shouted. “Valeryn, was it?”

“Yes?” Valeryn blinked a few times as if he was waking from a dream before his eyes finally focused on the naval guard.

“What’s with this talk about swords?”

“Oh.” Valeryn lightly yawned before he started speaking, “You can’t smell the steel?... Well, I guess you wouldn’t be able to, not that it matters. You’ll find out for yourself soon enough.”

“... Are you threatening me?” Bertrand asked with a grim expression.

“No, but if you want me to offer my assistance I’ll need three gold pieces. That steel is getting quite close, so you should hurry and make your choice while you still have the time.”

The young naval guard fell into confusion while the jailor spoke.

“See, all he sputters is hogwash,” The Jailor spat.

“I advise you to think of everything you want to say because when we finally reach land the torturer will make you spit out everything you know,” said an annoyed Bertrand.

Valeryn began speaking as Bertrand turned away, “Ah, I guess it's a good thing that this ship won’t ever reach land then.”

“What are you saying-” Bertrand was about to continue his response but the entire ship shook violently causing everyone to struggle for balance.

Panicked shouts began to spread out above deck and Bertrand climbed the stairs as soon as he recovered himself.

“Keep an eye on the prisoners!” He shouted to the jailor who was still climbing to his feet.

“At least bring me my saber, I can only do so much without it,” Valeryn spoke to the back of the departing Bertrand.

After getting no response, he leaned against the wall of the cell and closed his eyes.

Above deck, the previously clear horizon seemed to vanish in an instant as a flotilla of warships sat in the distance. Their black flags bore the insignia of a blue horse with a demonic appearance which drove terror into the men aboard.

“Calm yourselves!” Gerhardt ordered his men to quiet down but looked just as worried.

“Captain!” Bertrand shouted as he emerged from the lower decks to see the ominous warships in the distance.

“Warships of the Khalthur Empire… I’m willing to bet that they even have enough spellcasters to send us to oblivion.”

“What are they doing so close to the waters of the Stagatheon Kingdom?! Our ships should have at least staged a response by now?”

“If it’s the Khalthurians then I can only assume the worst. They have a history of breaking kingdoms from the inside. I fear that we may have a powerful traitor within our kingdom. There is no way a small noble would have enough pull to leave our waters open like this.” Gerhardt’s voice was laced with anger as he headed toward his quarters.

Bertrand followed him in a daze, frequently looking back to the approaching warships.

Once Gerhardt entered his quarters, he fumbled for a dry piece of parchment and a fresh inkwell before scribbling a hurried warning. After hastily finishing it, he rolled the parchment up and then turned to a birdcage that remained covered with a cloth. Without a moment of delay, he attached his message to the bird and set it free, hoping it would at least reach its destination. It appeared the bird may have felt the danger as it didn’t need much encouragement to flee, taking flight without a single moment wasted.

After it was gone, Gerhardt began writing another note, tucking it into a glass bottle and sealing it with a cork before handing it to the young knight.

“Bertrand.”

“Yes, Sir?” Feeling the weight of responsibility slowly creeping upon him, Bertrand put on a brave face.

“You are to ensure this message reaches his majesty, King Lucian, no matter what! Do you understand?”

“...Sir?” Bertrand accepted the bottle with a surprised look. “Are we not going to surrender? Surely that has to be the best choice?”

“The Khalthurians haven’t signed any war accords so they rarely take prisoners and if they do, they’ll inflict horrors upon you that no torturer could ever hope to accomplish. I’ll be honest with you… most of the men on this ship are going die, myself included. I am not foolish enough to believe otherwise. You are a young man with great prospects, you still have a long life to live. That is why I want you to be the one to deliver this message.” Captain Gerhardt took pause as he stared at Bertrand. “We will divert our course immediately and avoid getting in range of their spellcasters for as long as possible. There are a few small islands that pirates frequently use to hide from navy patrols. Once we arrive, you and a few other naval guards will take the lifeboats and some provisions and sail for one of those while we lead the Khalthurians away. A patrol will pass through within a week if all goes well so you’ll need to hold on until then.”

“I-I understand, Captain!” Bertrand replied, hiding his true feeling under the guise of composure.

“Good lad.” Gerhardt grasped his shoulders. “I have never said it, but even if we do not share the same blood, I’ve always seen you as my son, Bertrand… Now, go and ready yourself, it’s very likely the fate of our Kingdom will depend on you.”

Bertrand struggled to keep up his mask of calmness as emotions filled his chest, but in the end, he gave a silent salute and headed out.

Captain Gerhardt quickly headed toward the navigator who stood at the helm, steering the ship away from the approaching threat. He relayed his intentions and the ship was made to sail southward causing a chase to ensue.

As the calm winds became more active, the Khalthurian fleet of warships quickly gained speed, showing the superiority of their naval capabilities. The crew of the prison transport ship grew quiet. Clearly, they were anxious and fearful of the confrontation that was destined to occur as their pursuers gained speed.

As a few hours past, the afternoon transitioned toward the evening. Not too far in the distance a small island became outlined by the setting sun. As it did, a small group of naval guards climbed onto a small boat hanging off the side of the ship.

Among the group of five, the most notable face was Bertrand who held a darkened expression, feeling too ashamed to even look at his comrades who were to remain aboard.

“Get ready to release the ropes!” Gerhardt’s voice echoed from above, giving Bertrand a start.

Bertrand looked toward the ship’s helm where the Captain stood proudly, paying no heed to the enemy at their back as he already resigned himself to his fate. He soon noticed Bertrand’s gaze upon him and sent a single toward the young naval guard before he spoke once more, “Release them!”

“Releasing the ropes!” A ship hand yelled in response as he operated a rope pulley.

The lifeboat descended toward the water with a splash. Bertrand and the other young naval guards in the boat began rowing toward the island with as much force as they could muster.

…

Below deck, the prisoners had already begun shouting obscenities at the jailor who, with a bottle of wine in his hand, laughed at them.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouths and I might just save you all a swig!” He taunted them with a throaty cackle.

The only one prisoner who remained silent through the entire ordeal was Valeryn. Even as danger approached, he maintained his calm. The fact he wasn’t bothered seemed to transcend bravery and enter the realm of blissful ignorance at a glance. It definitely seemed as if he wasn’t aware of impending doom, but that couldn’t be true as he warned Bertrand before the enemy warships even arrived.

“I guess there’s no hope of getting free,” Valeryn said, letting out a low sigh as he tugged at the shackles holding him. He began to exert a small amount of effort and the nails pinning the shackles to the wall groaned before flying out of place. There was no reaction to his brief display of downright inhuman strength because no one took notice.

No longer bound to a wall, Valeryn stood up and stretched his body while the jailor remained unaware. Though that didn’t last for long as the prisoners grew quiet, finally seeing that one of their own freed themselves. They began staring in his direction which immediately drew the attention of the jailor.

“Oi!” The jailor turned around to see Valeryn escaping his restraints. “Your shackles must’ve been a bit rusty, but if you hadn’t noticed, those iron bars are much harder to break through.”

Valeryn ignored the jailor as he began prying off his shackles. They silently dropped to the floor with a metallic clink as he rubbed his wrists.

“Do you know what a weapon is?” Valeryn asked, clenching his hands as if he held a sword within them.

“What? What bullshit are you on about now?” The Jailor took a swig of the wine before continuing, “Just stay put so that we can all die together.”

“I’ve learned that a weapon is an extension of yourself to some extent... In my case, I’ve always felt that swords suited me best. It is only once you understand that what you wield is not just a weapon, not just a tool, but an embodiment of all that you are, that you will reach a level of understanding that very few possess.”

The aloof grin on Valeryn’s face disappeared as if it was a mask and his eyes became much sharper. He extended his hand out in front of him and made a wide, horizontal, chopping motion that cut through the air.

“What the fuck was that supposed to be?” The jailor asked.

His answer came in the form of an iron rod that suddenly fell at his feet. With the proper words caught in his throat, the jailor could only watch as another bar fell before the rest followed with a short symphony of metallic ringing. After cutting the iron bars apart, Valeryn was completely freed.

“... Shit!” The jailor loosened his grip on the bottle as it crashed to the ground before he hurriedly fled toward the upper deck.

Valeryn walked forward at a leisurely pace while examining his hand which became slightly reddened. His destination was the chest of belongings stripped from the prisoners before they boarded the ship. He fished out a dark grey cloak, a worn out leather belt with sword hilts attached to it. His eyes brightened as he pulled out an old one-handed saber full of nicks and scratches along its flat. He sheathed it and made for the upper decks but was stopped as a prisoner called out to him.

“Hey! Why don’t ya’ let the rest of us out?” A prisoner pleaded.

“I suppose it would be fair,” Valeryn remarked, grabbing the keys which dangled on a hook before tossing them into the cage full of prisoners. “Good luck.”

Once he climbed to the top of the deck where he drew a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air of the sea and his newfound freedom.

“There he is, Captain!” An accusatory shout interrupted his enjoyment as a group of armed men began surrounding him.

“Kill him and be done with it!” The Captain ordered, unwilling to waste another moment on the prisoner when the real threat was already closing in on them.

“Careful, Captain, he’s dangerous-” Right as the jailor finished speaking, a bright glimmer flashed a single time and then the several men surrounding Valeryn fell to the ground.

“If you brought me up sooner, I could’ve helped you all live,” Valeryn mumbled aloud, one hand held the saber upright while his freehand sat resting behind his back. He swung his blade clean, sending a splash of blood to the floor.

“... Just who are you?! Are you perhaps a swordmaster?!” Captain Bertrand asked, feeling a small amount of hope. Based on Valeryn’s words, it seemed that he wasn’t exactly an enemy which meant there was a chance of soliciting his help. Unfortunately, before an answer could come from Valeryn’s mouth, a horde of prisoners came pouring out.

Their screams filled the air as they rushed the top deck and the rest of the naval guard were forced to contend with the sudden tide of criminals. Since most were malnourished pickpockets, escaped servants, or former low-ranking nobles, not many posed an actual threat. It was those who were previously bandits, deserters, or sellswords, that caused the most trouble as they knew their way around a weapon. Chaos descended upon the ship as the prisoners and naval guards began fighting. The wiser prisoners opted to head for the last few lifeboats that hung off the side of the ship.

“Sorry, but that one is mine.” Valeryn stopped a pair of men who were busy untangling a rope in the hopes of escaping unnoticed.

“Piss off, there are a few more around!” One of them replied before seeing a metal glint out of the corner of his eyes. A second later, he felt a warmth underneath his chin. He mindlessly touched it only to stumble backward in horror as he discovered blood. Without being able to utter a word, he fell to the ground lifelessly, just barely realizing his throat had been slit open.

“Uh… I’ll find another!” His companion ran off without offering a single bit of resistance. Valeryn climbed onto the lifeboat and slashed the ropes, plummeting into the waters below.

It was a timely escape as a bombardment of blue lights began to rain down on the ship driving them into disarray. It seemed that the warships had finally closed enough distance to began their attack. Explosions ripped across the deck sending wooden splinters and body parts into the air.

Valeryn didn’t pay the commotion any mind as he rowed toward the small island in the distance. An aloof grin crept onto his face once more as the warm sea air brushed past him.