As the courtesies and the revelry ended, Salvador and Gerard made their plans; to the northern Caraíbes, an opportunity was arising. An invader, rumored to be the Evrúopeans, was cutting a swath down the Isles. Along with them they brought their own gods, culture, and were resettling the Isles. The specific Evrúopean kingdom that was invading, no one could say. However, all would agree that they were foreign to the Caraíbes Isles.

As secret as he tried to keep it, Duchess Lilliana got word that he and Gerard were leaving. "Leaving so soon?" she had asked him when Salvador and Gerad were walking along the vine-filled wall. They seemed like soldiers in a siege, climbing the walls to overpower the defenders.

"There is opportunity on the wind," Gerard had replied. "It rides swiftly and with sure feet. Only those quick enough will be able to notice it, and fewer quick enough to seize it."

Lilliana smiled. "Poetic."

"A pastime of mine," Gerard had said.

Duchess Florjes turned to Salvador. They said nothing, instead staring at each other for an eternity.

Salvador had been the first to break the silence. "We were wondering if you would be kind enough to lend us a company of men to assist us on our voyage north."

"A hundred men," the duchess murmured. She had been facing the Wilderness of Feroxiel, the sounds of life even reaching the wall which they stood upon. "It seems quite a lot."

"I think you owe me a favor," Salvador had whispered, deathly quiet.

A smile tugged at Lilliana's lips. "Yes, I do. I will provide you the ships to transport my men as well."

"Your Grace. . ." Gerard began.

The duchess held up a hand to silence him. "I need it. To pay off my debt."

The rest of his time there, Salvador tried to approach Benedict but the young prince constantly avoided him. His had begun to act erratically after the battle; he had no energy within him and although he was a religious young man, he had started going to church three times a day. That was extreme for even those whose religion was their entire life.

One of his encounters with Benedict had gone badly. Salvador had bumped into him in the castle hallways and said, "You've done an amazing job governing here."

Benedict had simply mumbled, "Yes, my tutors taught me." He had tried to walk away but Salvador had grabbed his arm.

"Where are you going?" Salvador had asked.

Benedict then proceeded to rip his arm free of Salvador's grip and growled. "Leave me alone! You have no right to touch a prince of Sersalvon without his permission." And had stormed away.

Finally, the ships had arrived. Salvador kept one company of the original five hundred men he had brought to Carcino. The company was Captain Tomas's.

Salvador caught sight of Angelica just as he was about to board the ship. She was in fighting leathers and her dark hair in a braid that kept it out of her face.

"You were going to leave without saying goodbye," she said accusingly.

Salvador pursed his lips but said nothing.

Angelica sighed in frustration. "Why do you always have to be so difficult."

Salvador felt his eyebrows furrow in confusion. "What do you mean."

Angelica furiously waved it off. "No matter. Just stay safe."

Salvador grinned. "Yes, mother."

But Angelica did not smile. Salvador felt his own smile fall off his face.

"Wait! Wai―Salvador!"

Benedict, Salvador thought. And sure enough, Prince Benedict Navíste respectfully weaved his way through the docks. Salvador could hear him constantly apologizing and asking people to make way. Ever the prince.

When Benedict reached him, he took a big sigh and said, "I thought I was going to miss you."

"Oh."

Benedict frowned. "What?"

"Nothing. Just wondering how you're going to survive without me."

Benedict's frown deepened. "I was doing just fine without you."

Salvador raised an eyebrow.

Benedict took a shaky breath. "We didn't have much time to talk after the battle."

"Yes, I know. You were swamped in meetings and negotiations and whatnot."

Benedict looked hesitant. "Well, yes, but it was more than that." He took another long and shaky breath. "I needed. . . some time alone. That battle. . . I. . ."

"Killed your first man?"

Benedict blinked and looked surprised. "How did you know?"

Salvador simply said, "I've seen that behavior before."

Benedict bit his lip. "I'm sorry for the way I acted. It was only one knight that got through my guard. It all happened so quickly, before I knew it, his blood was on my sword and his body was on the ground." He swallowed. "Everyone talks about how hard it is to kill a man. . . but that's the thing. . . it was too easy. He was simply there and then he was dead."

Salvador nodded. "I understand." And that was all he needed to say.

Benedict looked at him, his eyes shining with tears. "Thank you. And I prayed to Marialah to grant you calm seas and Iternatael for safe travels."

Salvador smiled. "Thank you, Benedict."

Benedict nodded in reply. He and Angelica watched as Salvador and Gerard boarded their ships. Not many other people were watching, and those who had come to see Gerard. The war galleys rowed out of the harbor and into the river. For a few hours, they rowed downstream until they finally reached the ocean.

The deck of the galley was moist and the sea gave Salvador a nice whiff of its salty breath. Ocean spray flew up into his face as they plowed through the endless crystalline waters of the sea. The prow of the galley cut a pure white wake as they raised their sails and they were underway. Salvador rushed to the prow of the ship and stared out into the great adventure that awaited them.

"So where is that we're going, Salvador," Gerard asked with fondness in his voice.

Salvador kept on looking out to sea. "To the north of the Caraíbes Isles, I suppose. Or perhaps. . . wherever the wind takes us."

***

Angelica walked through the quiet halls of la'Manse delle Simia; her siblings were all off doing trivial things or preparing to leave. Her mother seemed fairly pleased after she had pledged allegiance to House Navíste―snug almost―as if she had done something incredibly cunning.

Angelica found herself walking to the church tower, as she entered, she saw Benedict kneeling down and praying to Mikkael's altar. His eyes were closed, head bowed and his lips were moving. His arms were crossed against his chest with his palms flat against his shoulders.

In every church, there were four rooms, one for the Seven of the Holy Virtues. One for the daily masses and dedicated to the Angel King himself, and another dedicated to the patron angel. Every duchy had a patron angel and so did every lord and lady worth their salt. The patron angel of la'Manse delle Simia was obviously Feroxiel. The fourth room was one you could use to pray to whichever angel you wished. Angelica's personal favorite was Zehanphyr, the angel of independence.

The altars of the seven were framed with gold and they depicted images of the angels in all their heavenly glory. The largest one was the altar in the middle―Uwriyel, the angel of wisdom and the right hand to the Angel King.

"Is this not the second time you've been to church?" Angelica asked, her voice but a whisper.

Benedict did not face her when he answered. "Yes. And I shall return once more in the evening."

Angelica had to stop herself from making a face. "Three times? Do you not thinking you are overdoing it? I believe that His Majesty up above heard you the first time."

Benedict did not answer.

Something's wrong. "Are you okay, Your Highness?"

"Please," Benedict said rapidly, "do not call me that. Just call me Benedict."

Angelica furrowed her eyebrows. "Why. . . Benedict?"

Finally, did the prince turn to face her. "Because I'm afraid."

"Of what?"

Benedict took a deep breath. "I know it's. . . silly. . . but I have heard so many stories of great, just, and kind leaders being corrupted by this. . ." He waved around the room. "Power. I've never felt it before. . . I never knew it was so. . . powerful, I guess." He laughed nervously. "I don't know why I'm so worried. I mean. . . I just don't want to turn out like another Aladane."

Angelica cringed. King Aladane was a young sovereign who in his early life was known as the Giving Prince, legend has it he gave out the cloaks and blankets of his most trusted officers to those who truly needed it when at war. He led the army that conquered the rebellious island of Guatatan, bringing it back into the fold of Sersalvon once more. When he ascended to the Serpent Throne, he set his sights on the other kingdoms of the Caraíbes Isles. Kingdom after kingdom fell to the might of Sersalvon, but Aladane began to attack allies as well and he massacred the people of rival kingdoms, highborns and low alike. He was finally assassinated by a Horned Assassin hired by the Barbudan resistance.

"No one could ever turn out like Aladane," Angelica said in an attempt to comfort.

Benedict snorted. "I don't know about that."

Angelica simply stood there nervously. I don't know why you're so worried. Power was what everyone wanted, Benedict would grow used to it after a time. There was nothing for him to be afraid about.

With nothing to say she began to walk out of the church, but she caught a glimpse of Benedict staring after her. His expression was. . . disappointed.