"Today we'll have plenty of work to do," said King Anir to Master of Finance Edrich as they walked through the marble corridors.
"Indeed," replied Edrich, his polished shoes tapping against the stone floor. "Early this morning, Master of Trade Adelf arrived, along with his assistant, Radul."
"Radul?" asked King Anir. "Is he new?"
"Yes," said Edric. "He's responsible for our dealings with Kaharu, with whom trade has recently slowed. He's here to give us a detailed overview of the situation."
"Good," said Anir with a sigh. "Hopefully he won't complain as much as Adelf. Sometimes I can't stand listening to him. It's as if he forgets there are problems everywhere and always finds new ways to irritate me."
"Well," Edrich added in his calm but raspy tone, "you could always appoint someone else to his position."
That voice — quiet, rough, almost sly — always irritated Anir, but Edrich was exceptional at his job.
"Careful, Master," the king warned sharply, casting him a cold glance. "Your position is not irreplaceable either."
"My apologies if I overstepped, Your Majesty," Edrich replied smoothly. "We've arrived."
The day was surprisingly warm for autumn. There was no rain, and the sun shone through clouds that drifted lazily across the sky.
The squad bound for Ganalor had stopped to rest by a small stream, allowing their horses to drink. Most men were stretching their stiff legs after hours of riding, others chatted quietly, while Desimir stood beside his stallion, stroking its mane as it drank the clear, cool water.
"Good boy," he murmured, running his hand down the horse's strong, black neck. The animal snorted in satisfaction.
"You've got a good bond with him," said Kjaran as he approached. "Did you give him a name?"
"I didn't," replied Desimir as a light breeze swayed their cloaks. "We'll part ways once we reach the port anyway."
"So you don't want to grow too attached," concluded Kjaran, studying the young warrior — inexperienced, yet far more mature than when they had left for Ogrvol.
"I understand," said Captain Brin, stepping closer and handing him a strip of dried beef. "We haven't eaten anything since morning. Here."
"Thank you, captain," said Desimir, biting into it. His face twisted at the salty taste, which made Kjaran laugh.
"Tough, isn't it?" chuckled the captain, chewing a piece himself. "Military dried beef. Fuck me, it's the same as fifteen years ago when I tried it the first time— tough as leather and twice as salty."
The wind blew through Kjaran's black hair, hiding part of his face. Desimir gazed toward the horizon, admiring how the sunlight warmed them.
"Back then, I thought it was the best thing I'd ever eat," thought Kjaran silently.
"Let's move," he ordered after a moment. "We've rested long enough."
They still had at least five hours of riding to reach the port of Qricho, with a few short stops along the way.
Four men sat inside the council chamber, with four royal guards standing silently in each corner, armored and vigilant.
A servant woman entered the room, placing a tray of pastries on the table and pouring wine into silver goblets.
"As things stand," began a tall, heavyset man while taking another marmalade-filled pastry, "our trade relations with Tolan are at risk."
He wiped his sugar-covered fingers on the goblet as he spoke, his slicked hair gleaming with oil. He wore a fine silk robe over an embroidered tunic and polished black leather shoes.
Across from him sat a younger man with shoulder-length brown hair and a thick beard — Radul. His official garments were plain, nothing like the lavish attire of Master Adelf.
"As Radul explained, trade with Kaharu is struggling due to poor weather in the East," said Adelf.
"Exactly," added Radul. "When goods become scarce, demand rises — and so do prices."
"Of course," interrupted Adelf again. "We are not the empire's only trading partner. Tolan, being wealthier and offering better prices, has the upper hand."
With every sentence, King Anir grew more tense and impatient. He sat silently, sipping wine, listening to how his kingdom weakened. His gaze moved from one master to another, then to Edrich seated nearby.
"But," continued Radul, "after King Ailred and Emperor Toshimizu returned to their lands, trade with Ganalor has suffered the most."
"Yes..." mumbled Adelf, licking his fingers before wiping them with a silk cloth. "I wonder what's happening in Ganalor. They were always known for their fishing craft — never short on trade. Perhaps not rich, but always steady."
Anir said nothing. He only stared at Adelf, who calmly refilled his goblet.
"Well," Edrich spoke evenly, "whatever it is, it's not our concern."
"Be that as it may," added Adelf, "after the Darni caused that border incident, trade with Tolan will surely collapse unless we rebuild Ogrvol soon."
"Very well," said Anir, composing himself. "Settle the matter with Master Edric. I believe we've discussed enough for today."
"As you wish, Your Majesty," said Adelf. The three men rose, bowed, and left the room.
Anir remained seated a while longer, rubbing his tired eyes.
"I preferred leading men into battle," he thought bitterly.
"What a burden you left me..."
"I think it's time to take a short break," Elstan told Captain Brin as they galloped alongside him. Kjaran looked at his allies, then raised his hand, forming a fist, gradually slowing.
"There's an old well nearby," he shouted. "We'll take our final break here today."
Judging by the sun, it was around three in the afternoon, giving them enough time and light to reach Qricho port before dark.
"The pace is excellent so far," King Jin said, approaching Kjaran, who was observing the sun to plan the next move.
"Satisfactory, if anything. I thought Desimir and Ervin would slow us down, but they exceeded my expectations."
"It's true you have some excellent young knights," he placed a hand on his shoulder.
"There's talent in Ganalor, too. One day I'd like to see who's better. And you, Captain?" Jin asked, looking toward the horizon.
"Screw that," Kjaran replied briefly. "I don't like conflicts."
Jin smiled. "So, what are your current projections?"
"We should reach there before dark. Then we board while the docks are silent."
"But for that," Jin interjected, "we'd need darkness, right?"
"Exactly," Kjaran continued silently ignoring Jin, thinking he was trying to be clever or make a bad joke. "I'll time our pace to arrive just before sunset."
"Aha," he patted him on the shoulder, laughing. "I expected nothing less, Captain." Jin left, Kjaran watching him out of the corner of his eye.
"King Jin… interesting."
Elstan approached, noticing Kjaran preoccupied.
"You've been observing something constantly these days."
"Is that so?"
"Fuck me," Elstan thought. "At least it seems that way to me."
Kjaran looked serious, hiding his curiosity. Elstan continued:
"What's the plan when we reach the port?"
"We leave the horses with a man who works for the royal guard. He'll return them to Tlum."
"They'd find their way back on their own, wouldn't they?" interrupted Elstan.
Kjaran looked at him.
"Bloody horses," they both muttered at the same time, smirking.
"After that, we won't have to wait long for nightfall. The sun's setting fast — we'll board easily."
"And the crew? Do they know?" asked Elstan again.
"Why did the king tell only me?" thought Kjaran.
"Only the captain. He'll handle our boarding while his men are distracted," he answered.
"Interesting plan," said Elstan, nodding. "The fewer civilians involved, the better. But even if something goes wrong, they're skilled sailors — it shouldn't be a problem."
"Exactly. Everything will go smoothly," said Kjaran.
They both looked toward the glowing sun, silently mapping contingencies in their minds.
The others sat on short green grass, listening to flowing water, horses snorting. They rested, drank water, and ate their so-called travel rations. Desimir kept watching his new sword, hidden in its scabbard. Occasionally, he drew a few centimeters to inspect the blade—it was new, unblemished, gleaming with each draw. Two men sitting across from him on partially rotted stumps.
"Nice blade." Said one of them as he sharpened the tips of his arrows, with every movement of the knife he showed his knowledge. Still, Ratko Morich was a seasoned warrior, not every archer becomes a member of the king's guard, and the scars on his face proved it. Although he always tried to cover them with his long, dry, brown beard.
"Thanks," said Desimir, sliding the sword back and setting it beside him.
"You know," continued Ratko, "it's not the beauty that—"
"—but how well I can wield it," interrupted Desimir coldly.
"Exactly," grinned Ratko.
Gerde approached, smiling, placing a hand on Ratko's shoulder. "What did I tell you about the little one, huh?" He crouched. "Full of fire."
"Looks like you were right," Ratko said, smiling, pointing an arrow at Desimir. "I like it when guys like him have my back." Gerde just smiled, Desimir merely watched and sighed.
"I wonder what's on the king's mind, Master Edric," mused Adelf, seated across from the finance master, who was stamping and filling documents. The smell of melted wax and ink filled the room; each thud of the seal grew heavier.
"I... truly... don't... know," muttered Edrich between stamps.
"Sometimes I wonder if he knows what he's doing," said Adelf, making Edrich glance up sharply.
Adelf leaned forward, twirling the sealing wax near the flame.
"Come now, Master Edric," he went on. "You know as well as I do — our king isn't much of a ruler."
Edric froze mid-stroke, setting the quill back into the inkpot.
"That kind of talk is forbidden, Master Adelf."
"True," Adelf said lightly, ignoring the warning. "Maybe he was a great commander fifteen years ago when he overthrew that tyrant king... but everyone knows—"
"Enough," said Edrich calmly but firmly. "One more word and I'll consider it treason."
Adelf paused, then stood, leaving a small pool of spilled wax on the parchment.
"You're a wise man, Master of Finance," he said softly, gathering his papers, "but you don't have many friends."
"Perhaps," replied Edrich proudly, "but I have honor."
"I can't recall," Adelf murmured, smirking as he walked away, "when honor last returned the favor."
He left the room, while Edrich stared at the hardened wax stuck to the stained page.
Night was falling. The sun had vanished beyond the horizon, leaving only a pale afterglow. The moon peeked through drifting clouds, dimming visibility.
But in the distance, the riders saw what mattered most — the sea. The faint shimmer of waves, the silhouettes of anchored ships, and the warm flicker of lanterns reflecting on the water.
Kjaran raised his hand and signaled to slow down. They all saw the lights. Gradually, the horses shifted from gallop to trot.
At last, they reached the port of Qricho.
But Qricho was more than a port — it was a small town, almost a seaside village, home to dockworkers, sailors, and local fishermen. The nearby forest made it a convenient spot for trade and settlement, though few lived there — the constant noise, the cold sea winds, and the damp air drove most away.
The port stretched nearly three kilometers, capable of hosting a hundred ships a day at high tide. But with trade reduced, only about twenty vessels remained active.
The ships varied from massive 'Cogs' with high sides and a single square sail built from solid oak loomed beside smaller 'Caravels' with multiple masts and sleek profiles fit for sailing against the wind. A few 'Hulks' and 'Galleys' rocked gently by the docks.
Sails fluttered in the breeze. Waves slapped against wooden hulls, sending spray over the planks. Crews worked busily — loading cargo, repairing nets, bailing water.
"Well," said Elstan as they made their way through the narrow streets toward the docks, "which one's ours?"
Kjaran simply pointed at a massive cog awaiting them. The crew was loading barrels and crates.
"Whoa," said a man approaching suddenly. Instinctively, the soldiers reached for their weapons, but he raised his hands.
"Kjaran! That's no way to greet me," the man laughed.
Kjaran's face lit up. He strode forward and embraced him, patting him firmly on the back.
"Good to see you, Captain Hugo."
"You could've spared the cloak," joked Hugo with a grin.
The men relaxed, lowering their hands.
"This is Captain Hugo," explained Kjaran. "He'll be taking us to Ganalor."
"You're in good hands — one of the finest sea captains in Luganor." He said confidently.
"Come on," said Hugo. "Let's get you aboard. The docks aren't too crowded tonight."
They crossed the creaking wooden gangway, each step echoing softly.
Countless thoughts filled their minds.
"Grandfather's probably reading his book," thought Ervin. "Hope he remembered to eat."
"Once I step on this deck," Desimir thought anxiously, "there's no turning back."
Osgar clapped him on the back. "Come on," he said with steady eyes, "together."
"Brother... will this step bring me closer to you, or take me further from myself?"
Ujiyoshi grasped the weight of their mission as he walked.
"I wonder what Rina made for dinner," mused Kjaran absentmindedly.
The clouds parted. The moon climbed higher. The wind eased. Gulls cried overhead, and the salty scent of the sea filled the air.
The sails unfurled, ropes tightened, barrels were secured, and the sailors' spirits rose.
At the helm stood Captain Hugo.
"Move it, you lazy bastards!" he roared cheerfully. "If I see one loose rope, you'll all swim to Kelio! Ha-ha-ha!"
"Aye, captain!" the crew replied, grinning through the sweat on their faces. Their hands gripped coarse ropes, their woolen sweaters clinging to them in the cool night air, leather boots splashing on wet planks.They tightened sails fluttering in the light breeze.
"Are the Sea Gods with us today?" he shouted. "Aye!" they answered decisively. He laughed as the wind whipped his hair. "Then what are we waiting for? Remove the gangway and lift the anchor."
He gave the order; two sailors pushed the gangway onto the dock, while another raised the anchor with a winch. The sound of rusty chains entwined with seaweed was loud as it hoisted.
Bathed in moonlight, with water lapping the ship's sides and sails fluttering, the ship slowly set course for Ganalor.