St. James's Palace

London, England

"This is an incident unprecedented prior to now. I want you to send doves to all three Deputy Commanders about the situation, is that clear?"

"Yes sir."

The two soldiers were clad in bright red coats with gold buttons and epaulettes on their shoulders, indicating their high rank.

Before them stood their Colonel, the esteemed individual known only as Harbew.

His long red coat, which reached his ankles, was evidence of his status and rank, as were the three medals of honour on the left breast of his coat that represented his superiority.

Under the short black cap he wore, his eyes were sunken and darkened by his twenty years of exposure to the battlefield. His mouth was just about completely hidden by a majestic graying beard.

As the two soldiers left, Harbew spun around and made his way across the grand hallway, which was the entrance to the palace.

On each side were six massive pillars, with guards in black uniforms flanking each one. The massive stained glass windows between each pillar allowed rays of sunshine to light up the red carpet on the ground.

As he approached the dual stairway, he saw a familiar figure walking into the hallway on the right.

Unsure but almost certain of who it was, Harbew climbed the staircase to the right and stepped inside the hallway. Sure enough, standing in front of the two guards stationed between the white pine wood door at the end of the corridor was exactly who he was expecting to see.

The man's towering figure alone was enough to identify him. Almost seven feet tall, he loomed over the two guards with ease.

The coat he wore was completely black, with the words "Head Instructor" written on the back in white. The empty sleeves hung loosely at the sides, as usual.

"Head Instructor!" Harbew called the man, who turned around.

Harbew found himself tilting his head up to meet the slightly gaunt face of Head Instructor Williams. His curly red hair, faded from age, reflected the sunlight from the nearby windows.

Despite having only met a few times, he smiled as though Harbew was a close friend. His amber eyes shone as he did so, taking away several years off his appearance.

"If it isn't Colonel Harbew. It's been too long." He said, and shook Harbew's hand. A little too enthusiastically, perhaps, since his firm grip sent a shockwave of pain up his arm.

Good lord. I just shook a legend's hand. I'll never wash it again.

With a cough, he composed himself. "Yes, indeed. I'm simply here to give a brief report to the Commander." He eyed the two guards at the door.

"Any trouble?"

Williams laughed, and shook his head. "No, no. Nothing going on here. I'm just here to pay my son a visit. I believe there's a Minister in there right now, so I'm content with waiting a bit." His tone was almost humourous.

The Colonel moved away from the guards, and Williams followed.

"I'm not surprised in the least. The House of Lords has been a pain in our necks for the last couple of months. The Supreme Commander will have his work cut out for the next year or so." Harbew muttered.

The Ministers within the House had always been unenthusiastic with the new Supreme Commander. Simmering anger would soon turn to overflowing rage unless something gave way.

Williams knew this well. "Tell you what, Colonel. Give me your report, and I'll pass it onto him."

Harbew smiled under his beard. "Thank you. It would certainly take a load off my back. I have much to attend to with the chaos ensuing at the moment." With that, he shared the information on the current situation to Williams.

Inside the Supreme Commander's office, negotiations weren't going too well.

The gold chandelier on the ceiling and the red and violet curtains behind the long wooden desk did little to improve the glum situation involving the red haired Commander.

"This is ridiculous. I have 40 percent of my funds resting on her shoulders?"

The fat man before Supreme Commander Kingsley was Minister Roeman, one of the wealthiest in the House of Lords. As necessary as his funds were, Roeman was a stubborn one he hated dealing with.

He zoned out the words of the contemptuous Minister and raised his hand. "I'm sorry, Minister Roeman, but I'm afraid there's nothing I can do. We've already handed over responsibility to Deputy Commander Amara. The decision is final."

Roeman glared at the impudent boy in the white suit. He was only twenty six, the youngest Supreme Commander in the history of the English empire. He couldn't tolerate such arrogance from one who was practically a child.

"I was not informed of this decision. I seriously doubt of her capabilities to make the best use out of those funds-"

Again, Kingsley raised his hand. "What is it exactly that makes you so fearful of her capabilities? I have complete faith in her."

The Minister puffed out his chest, with the black coat he wore making him resemble something like a bloated hippo.

He slammed his hand on the surface of the desk, absolutely fuming. "You know full well why I doubt that woman. Full. Well. She should never have even reached this rank, forget be given responsibility of such an important mission!"

Kingsley watched him seethe, mildly amused. They were like children, all these high standing nobles.

"I have authority over her. All I need is-"

"And I have authority over you, Minister. I suggest you know your place." He retorted quickly.

Tolerance was limited to a line that couldn't be crossed. Roeman was toeing that line.

Though stubborn, he knew when it was time to leave. He allowed himself one final glare at the Supreme Commander, and left.

The door slammed behind him, and Kingsley was alone once more.

I hate this job.

He sighed, and ran his hands through his curly hair. His hair was peculiar, always refusing to tidy up no matter what he did.

As he was examining the wrinkles and creases on his gold and white uniform, the door opened.

"May I?" The voice was familiar.

He looked up to find his father standing in the doorway, holding the doorknob with one hand. The smile on his face brought forth an emotion Kingsley could not quite decipher.

When he nodded, Williams entered the room. The door gently closed behind him as he stepped inside, looking around the room.

"It's as fancy as I remembered it." He said, almost to himself. Stopping at the center of the room, he turned around to look at the massive bookshelf to the right, which spanned almost the entire length of the wall.

It was filled with secretive information, documents and scriptures from generations past. Williams gazed at it with a sad longing, somewhat melancholic of times long gone.

I suppose it's hard to throw away something you've lived through for so long.

After a moment, he turned to Kingsley. His white uniform with gold and blue buttons. The gold cape that drooped over his right arm, the singular golden epaulette that held it in place.

He saw himself in his son. And yet, Kingsley was as distant from him as possible.

He smiled, and pointed his thumb at the door. "Roeman just waddled past me. Looked furious. What did you do to get him that riled up?" Kingsley sighed in response.

"He's pissed because I decided to hand over some of the funds he provided the military to Deputy Commander Amara. Doesn't trust her one bit." He said, tapping his finger against the top of the desk absentmindedly.

Williams laughed. "He's like the rest of the nobles. Don't pay it any mind."

He moved closer to the desk, and plucked a book from the bookshelf. It was covered in dust.

"You should clean this place a bit. I didn't teach you how to do all that housework just for you to sit on a chair and write all day." He said, flipping through the pages.

Kingsley didn't reply.

Instead, he simply watched Williams standing there, reading. Was he angry at his father? Or happy? He couldn't really tell.

"Why...why are you here?" He finally asked.

The silence that followed was a tad bit awkward. Or at least, it was to Kingsley. As usual, his father didn't miss a step.

He chuckled and put the book back where it was. "Do I really need an excuse to see my son?" He asked, and took a seat on the chair in front of the desk. It was a fancy silver chair, with a red padded seat made from cotton and silk.

"Besides, I was given an urgent report by Colonel Harbew. You'd be interested in this one."

Kingsley waved his hand, urging Williams to continue.

He slumped back in the chair, and began the report. "Blackbeard has hidden his Ley. First time in...maybe twenty years?" The casualness with which he delivered it completely undermined the true height of the situation.

Kingsley's eyes widened, and he focused his Ley. As expected, the presence of Blackbeard had completely vanished.

Williams continued, "We had gotten so used to that little cloud in the blue sky, that we never noticed when it disappeared. The newbies in training would certainly notice it. Our lot wouldn't."

It was true. Over the years, the Ley of Blackbeard had become well-known and global to any Ley users. An unremovable spot that refused to go away, that could be sensed anywhere around the world.

It was out of sheer arrogance that he flaunted his power in the face of the world. He was an unstoppable force of nature, and he knew it.

"If I were in my prime, I would've kicked that one's ass. Even Collin Devils himself wasn't that overconfident, to use his power as a giant bull's eye."

The mention of Devils made Kingsley twitch a little. Noticing this, Williams shrugged. "Sorry. Didn't mean to."

Kingsley rubbed his forehead. "Well, either way, we've got something serious brewing in those Spanish waters. Do you reckon he'd show up in London?" At this, Williams laughed.

It was a genuine sort of laughter he hadn't heard from his father in a long time. The sound made him just a tiny bit...happier.

"Heh heh...him? Come here? Don't be stupid. If the two of us were stuck on a tiny rock in the Pacific, it would be the most dangerous rock in the world. And he knows it."

His words gave Kingsley some optimism. He's right. Blackbeard is smarter than that.

Something still didn't add up. He had to be planning something for him to suddenly go off the grid like this.

Well. Thinking about it isn't going to give me an answer.

"And Harbew is already preparing for war, isn't he?" Kingsley asked, and Williams nodded in response.

Typical.

"Bloody hell. He sees war and danger everywhere he looks. Two decades of battle has turned him into a paranoid rodent." He muttered.

Williams laughed again. "Let him be. It's good to have a smart man in the ranks." He stood up from the chair and turned towards the bookshelf again.

He had always loved reading. The documents here were classified, but his previous tenure as Supreme Commander still granted him some extent of authority over others.

Kingsley knew this as well, but...

"Well...if that is all, then you can leave." He said coldly.

Williams stopped, his fingertips just inches away from one of the books.

The two remained silent for a few seconds.

It was Williams who broke it. "This is the first time I've seen you in...four months. And the third time in four years. Is that all you have to say to me before I disappear again for who knows how long?" He asked, keeping his voice steady and eyes firmly on the book.

Kingsley gripped the edge of his desk.

"You chose your predicament. Not me. I'm the Supreme Commander of this country now. Not your son." He said, eyes closed as if to avoid looking at his father's distraught expression.

Williams opened his mouth as if to say something, but quickly stopped.

I still have so much to tell you. So much to talk about. I...

He forced himself to turn away, and approached the door to leave.

Kingsley sighed, and began to rearrange the books and papers on the desk.

"Son."

He glanced up to find Williams looking at him over his shoulder.

"Whatever you choose to do from here...know that I only wish you happiness."

With that, he opened the door and left, leaving Kingsley alone with his thoughts.

He leaned over and placed his hands over his face.

At that moment, he wished for nothing more than for a Minister to burst though the door complaining.

That was easier in comparison to this.