The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the vast expanse of the Ana Sea. The water, calm and shimmering uhe fading light, was suddenly disturbed as a rge ship, leading a formidable fleet, sliced through the tranquil surface. The ship’s dark sails billowed in the evening breeze, its massive hull cutting through the waves with an air of menace.

  This was no ordinary vessel—it was a warship, fitted with at least fifty mounted ballistas, eae primed for battle. Built for both speed and firepower, the ship was alse enough to carry essential cargo, including provisions, onry, and—hidden away in its depths—human cargo. A bck fg adorned with a skull fpped ominously in the wind, marking the fleet as pirates. Yet this fleet of thirteen ships was anything but rogue marauders.

  At the helm stood Ser or, a seasoned veteran of House Ronin. Dressed in pirate-like garb, he cut a striki unfortable figure, his usual knightly armor repced by tattered clothes meant to sell the illusion. He gripped the wooden railing, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon.

  Footsteps echoed from the lower deck, and a man in simir pirate attire emerged from below. His movements were stiff, unnatural—like a man pying a role he was not aced to.

  “C-Captain,” the man stammered, clearly struggling to drop his knightly mannerisms in favor of a med, seafaring tone. “Everything is in order below deck. The sves are secured, properly ed, and under guard.”

  or barely g him, his expression unreadable. “Not that it matters much longer. We’ll be reag Jo Isnd in a few more hours,” he muttered. “By nightfall, we’ll be on their shores.”

  His eyes remained on the horizon, sing the fading light for any sign of trouble. Above, the sails rustled as anure desded from the rigging with ease. This man, however, looked far more at home in his pirate disguise. His fident smirk never wavered as he nded beside or.

  “You know, or,” the man said, amusement g his voice, “this look suits you.”

  or scoffed, adjusting the rough fabric of his borrowed coat as if the very touch of it offended him. “Spare me,” he grumbled. “My dignity as a knight is hanging by a thread. Unlike you people from the Syndicate, I actually care about honor.”

  Keith, the man iion, chuckled and leaned casually against the railing. His dark eyes glinted mischievously as he responded, “That’s the differeween us, Ser Knight. You have honor, and I have results.”

  or exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “A loyal knight of House Ronin, reduced to wearing pirate rags, pretending to be a savage, and attag like on criminals.” He ched his fists, his voice l to a bitter murmur. “It’s disgraceful.”

  Keith let out a shh. “Oh, e now. Look at the bright side,” he said, nudging or with his elbow. “Ohis mission is plete, you’ll be promoted to viight captain. You’ll finally get the reition you’ve been waiting for all these years.”

  or’s expression darkened. He said nothing, merely grumbling under his breath as he turned away. Keith, still amused, folded his arms and watched the knight retreat.

  “You know,” Keith called after him, “we should have a name for our little ‘pirate’ group. It’d make things feel more authentic, don’t you think?”

  or didn’t stop walking. “Do whatever you want,” he muttered, disappearing into his .

  Keith smirked and tapped his in thought. “Hmm… Faring Ellie has a nice ring to it,” he mused to himself.

  As the fleet pressed onward toward Jo Isnd, the grim reality of their journey settled heavily in the dimly lit lower decks of one of the ships. Crammed into rusted iron cages, the sves—men, women, and children alike—sat in sileheir expressions clouded with fear and uainty. The air was thick with the stench of sweat and damp wood, the only light filtering in through thin cracks in the wooden pnks above.

  Brandon sat with his back against the bars, his arms ed protectively around his young son, Samuel. had a sharp mind. His small hands gripped the bars as he whispered, “Father, it doesn’t look like they’re taking us to an au.”

  Brandon, sighed and nodded. “I agree. These men are dressed as pirates, but something feels off. Some of them are from the Syndicate—I reize their mannerisms—but the others… they don’t belong here. They’re tid, too disciplio be pirates.”

  From a shadowy er of the cage, Cami, Brandon’s wife, stirred. The s on her wrists ked softly as she shifted. Her voice, though low, carried certainty. “Jo. They’re taking us to Jo Isnd.”

  Brandon turo her, brows furrowed. “You’re sure?”

  Cami nodded, her dark eyes sharp despite the exhaustion lining her face. “I overheard one of the guards speaking through the walls to an old man in the cell. He told him to stop wasting water because we would be in a desert soon.”

  Samuel’s eyes widened. “A desert? Then it has to be Jo! That’s the only desert isnd anywhere near here!”

  His words traveled through the wooden partitions, reag the ears of the other captives in the neighb cells. A hushed panic spread like wildfire.

  “My gods! They’re taking us to Jo?!”

  “No! Not the unruly, ruthless princess’s domain!”

  “It would be better if we were aued off!”

  “Please, anywhere but there! We don’t want to be tortured by that evil princess!”

  The murmurs turo desperate cries, their voices rising in terror. Fists pounded against the iron bars, s rattled, awisted into hysteria.

  The guards reacted immediately. With heavy wooden clubs, they struck the bars, the deafening gs eg through the ship. “Silence!” one of them barked, striking a prisoner’s outstretched hands through the bars.

  Screams turo muffled sobs as the panic was forcibly subdued.

  Dame Lana stood at the ship’s bow, watg the waves beh them. also a knight of House Ronin, not in her usual elegant armor of her station, but the rough garments of a seafarer. The wind tangled her dark hair as she observed the fleet’s movement toward Jo Isnd.

  A otion from below deck caught her attention. She turned sharply as one of the guards rushed toward her, a hasty salute.

  “Miss Lana,” he said, quickly correg himself from calling her Dame in front of the disguised crew. “The sves were misbehaving, but we’ve dealt with it.”

  Lana narrowed her eyes. “Misbehaving?” she repeated coolly. “They’re in cages. What could they possibly do?”

  The guard hesitated before answering. “They figured out our destination. It caused a panic.”

  Lana sighed in irritation, ping the bridge of her nose. “Of course, they did.” She turo the man. “Use the Filet Flower and activate the servitude spell. That should keep them silent for the remainder of the journey.”

  The guard nodded, a wicked grin creeping across his face. “Uood.”

  Lana’s gaze returo the horizon as she added, “A ready. The captain has called for us to board his ship for a strategy meeting. We’ll read make our move soon.”

  The guard saluted before hurrying off to carry out her orders.

  As the fleet sailed ever closer to Jo Isnd, the sea remained deceptively calm—belying the storm of cruelty and bloodshed that was about to unfold.

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