"Treason and murder of the monarchs of the Empire," Therese muttered as she stood, handing the wanted posters back to Chandler. "Looks like I rescued quite the troublesome bunch, huh?"
She gave him a dry half-smirk, then glanced at the charred wreckage. "Don't get me wrong... I'm just not sure if you're the luckiest man alive—or the unluckiest—for being the only one left to escort them back."
"I understand," Chandler replied quietly, his voice heavy. "I had men with me. Loyal, capable knights. But as you can see…" He gestured to himself—soaked, bruised, but still standing. "I'm the only one left."
He paused for a moment before adding, more firmly, "That's why I have to finish this mission. No matter what happens, I will return those two to the Empire... even if it costs me my life."
Silently, he folded the wanted posters and tucked them away with reverence, as if sealing a vow.
"Even before this voyage, many died hunting those fugitives. And when they set fire to the palace... more lives were lost."
A beat passed. His gaze drifted to the shipwreck.
"We were so close," he whispered. "Just a few more days to Lumina, and we would've delivered justice for everyone they stole it from."
Therese followed his gaze, expression unreadable.
"Sir Everiel," she asked quietly, "do you know which ocean you're in right now?"
"We were heading back to the capital, so we should be in the Sea of Aquaris Mare," he said, sounding unsure for the first time.
Therese exhaled lightly, eyes shifting back to the wreck.
"Right. About that."
"What?"
"Don't panic. But you're not in Aquaris Mare anymore."
Chandler frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You're in the Tharos sea now. Far north."
A long pause.
Then Chandler let out a short, confused laugh. "Lady Therese, you really have an unexpected sense of humor."
She looked him square in the eyes. "I'm not joking."
The laughter died in his throat. He blinked, then took half a step back.
"You're… serious?"
"Completely."
Chandler's eyes widened. "But that's—impossible! That's half the world away!"
"Exactly." Therese's tone turned thoughtful. "So. What exactly happened out there?"
Chandler shook his head, still stunned. "As I said, we captured them. Everything was going smoothly until, one night, we saw a Borealis in the sky. Then came a flash… an explosion… and the next thing I knew, we were drifting in the middle of nowhere. With the convicts."
Therese moved toward the railing, watching the remains of the wreck drift with the current.
"Aurora Borealis..." she murmured. "You rarely ever see that in the south. But here, it's not unusual."
She turned to him. "Still, teleportation over that distance isn't natural. That's advanced magic—Sage-level."
"A Sage?!" Chandler's voice shot up. Melic, perched nearby, squawked in perfect timing.
"There are only seven Sages alive!" the dove squawked. "And they keep to themselves! One meddling in mortal affairs is basically a declaration of planetary-level drama!"
Melic fluttered indignantly. "Therese, this is big. This could derail your entire—well, everything! Not that you care."
She waved him off, unfazed.
"Judging by your reaction, I assume you don't know anyone capable of such magic," she said to Chandler.
"The Empire doesn't have a Sage," he said slowly. "But... there's one in Laom. The only kingdom we never conquered. Peaceful people. Their Sage even signed our treaty years ago."
"Laom, huh…" Therese murmured, unreadable. "Noted."
She straightened. "Either way, you've had more than enough for one day. Go rest. There's a spare cabin below deck. I'll have your companions brought to shelter too."
Chandler didn't move.
"Lady Therese…" he said, his voice rough. "I know I've already leaned on your kindness, but… may I ask one more favor?"
She turned to him, her expression softening. "You may."
He swallowed. "The knights who died… they deserve a proper farewell. They were brave men. They shouldn't be left like this."
Therese was quiet for a long moment. Then she nodded.
"Of course. I'll prepare a boat."
***
The sky was a pale, aching blue as the small lifeboat was lowered onto the sea. No other soul stood aboard Therese's vessel—only her, Chandler, and the quiet presence of her animals.
Above them, a soft flutter of wings sliced through the still air. Melic, circled overhead in wide, slow arcs.
"Over here!" Melic called out, though only his gawks could be heard.
Chandler dove in, the cold of the sea biting into him like grief. Melic flew ahead, cooing sharply as it hovered over a shadow beneath the surface—an armored hand, reaching upward from the wreckage.
Chandler swam to it.
One by one, Melic led him—swooping, circling, guiding him through the ruins. A broken helm here, a crushed body there. Friends. Brothers. Faces he knew, now still and pale.
Therese watched in silence, her hands clasped in front of her. She didn't speak. She knew better than to interrupt mourning with words.
Hours passed. By noon, the sun bore down mercilessly. Chandler had gathered all he could. The small boat was heavy with fallen knights, their bodies gently laid side by side. Chandler climbed aboard, soaked and trembling, clutching a bundle of silver nameplates in his scarred hands.
Melic landed quietly on the edge of the boat. The dove tilted its head and cooed again—soft, like a lullaby.
Therese descended the rope ladder, cradling a small clay urn. Wordlessly, she poured the oil across the boat, over armor and cloth, bone and steel. The scent of it rose with the wind—sharp, final.
Chandler stood. He pressed the nameplates against his heart and closed his eyes.
"I failed you," he whispered. "But I won't forget you. May the Goddess of Life give you rest… and light your way home."
Therese handed him a torch, already lit.
With trembling fingers, he cast it into the boat.
Flames surged, golden and unforgiving. Fire bloomed across the oil-soaked timbers, dancing among the dead like a crown of farewell. The boat drifted outward, smoke curling to the sky, sparks flickering like fireflies against the sea.
Chandler watched, unmoving. The heat painted his face. His fists clenched as if holding back tears.
Therese stepped beside him. "You've honored them well, Sir Chandler."
He didn't answer right away. "It still doesn't feel like enough."
"It never does."
He nodded faintly, gaze still fixed on the horizon.
Therese turned then, gently lifting the unconscious princess into her arms. "Come. Bring the prince. I'll show you to the cabin. You need rest and treatment now, Sir Everiel."
Chandler gave one last look to the fading fire, then bent and picked up the prince, slinging him over his shoulder without a word.
As he followed her below deck, Melic remained perched at the ship's edge, wings tucked close, eyes fixed on the last rising smoke.
And when the flames finally disappeared into the horizon, the dove let out one soft, lingering coo—like a soul singing goodbye.