There were not many people at breakfast with the High King. Salvador noted Emma, the steward Elias, the Lord High Treasurer Emmerich, and an Élirian admiral. Salvador also noted how the Élirians were so misrepresented in the court of the Réaltimarines.

The breakfast was silent for a long time. The High King was constantly glancing at Gerard and Salvador, studying the two. He seemed to have completely forgotten about Captain Tomas. The food they were eating was foreign to the Sersalvonians. The scrambled eggs he ate, but on the side of his plate, there was something that looked vaguely like... he didn't want to think about it. It looked like it was made out of meat though. He just wasn't so sure he wanted to eat it. In another bowl, he had what he thought might've been porridge. But it was completely bland.

Disgusting.

No one spoke until the High King spoke. And when Peter did, he was staring directly at Captain Tomas. "You. You there. You hardly talk, unlike your savage friends. Who even are you?"

"I am Captain Tomas Velezera of the Seeker Company... Your Majesty." Salvador noticed Tomas's slight struggle at Peter's title.

"And who do you serve?"

Tomas lifted his chin. "The highest bidder."

The Élirian admiral snorted. "I don't know why you trust these mercenaries, Your Majesty. They are all vile creatures, constantly turning on their contracts at the slightest mention of hardship."

"I must protest, Your Majesty," Gerard butted in. "In these Isles, infighting between local powers is constant and expected. Therefore, mercenaries are commonplace. They wouldn't be if every free company betrayed their employers."

"Good," the High King said. "Then you will not balk at what we tell you."

Gerard raised his eyebrow. "Oh?"

Elias cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, perhaps we should wait―"

"No," Peter snapped. "We are to invade Barbaruda as soon as the rest of the Seeker Company arrives."

Gerard frowned. "Not even a few days rest?"

Peter shook his head. "This host has waited far too long. The recent influx of money from the homeland gives us the perfect opportunity to strike. With Barbaruda out of the picture, the rest of the Caraíbes Isles shall be up for the taking. Twelve more months and my men will have conquered the entirety of this jungle-filled hellscape. Finally, we shall be able to return to the more moderate climate of Réaltimar."

"And Élira," the admiral added.

Peter waved him off. "You understood what I intended."

The Élirian admiral seemed a little offended, but he tried to brush off the matter.

Now, Peter turned his gaze to Gerard. His blue eyes were little circles of diamond that reflected the dim light of the dawn. His curly blond hair fell to his shoulders, so much like his sister's; a golden cascade. "And so I ask thee: when is the rest of the company arriving?"

The Freelancer Knight met the gaze of the High King of Réaltimar. And he answered, "If they have not been impeded by corsairs or some other inconvenience... tomorrow."

"Thank you!" Peter exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air in an expression of relief. "See, Elias? No harm in that."

Elias nodded but he still gave the Sersalvonians a suspicious glance.

Now, the Lord Treasurer Emmerich spoke. "Your Majesty, I am worried about the cost of this invasion."

"Why?" Peter asked without facing the bald man.

The Treasurer cleared his throat. "Barbaruda is the third-most populated country in the Caraíbes and at this point, the most powerful. My spies tell me they have a vast and advanced navy that puts us to shame. Although we shall no doubt win the land war, I fear that we will not be able to sustain a naval campaign against the Barbarudi, both militarily and economically. I have learned that the Caraíbes has two harvesting seasons; one season is planted from Thirdmonth through Sixthmonth and harvested from Seventhmonth through Twelfthmonth. The second season is planted from Twelfthmonth through Secondmonth and harvested from Thirdmonth through Eighthmonth. The second season is the lesser producing one and we only managed to seize a portion of the second season harvest. If we wait till next year... "

"Leave the military to those who understand war, Treasurer," Elias hurled.

"The Steward has that right," the admiral agreed.

The Treasurer simply sighed and acted as if the Lord Steward and Lord Admiral were nothing but nuisances.

But Peter nodded. "We need not worry, Lord Treasurer. The gods are on our side. And cannon. And I shall not sit through the winter until next year doing nothing."

Salvador almost snorted. "We don't have a winter, Your Majesty. That is a thing for the northerners of Arkenheim." But he also felt a sense of dread crawling up from the base of his spine. Cannon. They were almost mythical things, like griffins and dragons. Siege weapons that could knock down a wall in less than half the time of catapults. Beasts of war using the dreaded black powder. With one glance, he saw that Tomas and Gerald had the same troubling thoughts going through their heads.

The table fell silent once more and Salvador decided to meet the gaze of Emma. The Princess of Réaltimar was uncomfortable here, by Réaltimarine customs, she was out of her place. Salvador guessed that Peter had insisted she come to breakfast.

"Eyeing my sister, pagan?" Peter inquired. The High King gave him a snarky smile and traced his pointer finger across Emma's nape. "She's quite a beauty, isn't she?"

Salvador coughed. "Well―"

"Well, what?" Peter interrupted. "Are you telling me you don't find my sister beautiful? Perhaps you think she is―gods forbid―ugly?"

"Why must you torture me so, Your Majesty?" Salvador asked.

"Leave him alone, Peter," Emma protested.

"Your Majesty!" Peter snapped, his hand gripping his sister's blonde curls. The princess's face twisted in pain but she did not cry out. "You address me as Your Majesty!"

Salvador felt his fists tighten without his consent. His teeth ground against one another and his blood began to boil.

Peter noticed it all. "What are you going to do, pagan?" he sneered. "The Star tells us that the warrior is the greatest vocation of all. And women are no warriors. So it is that women are naturally inferior. Do you defy the gods?" He violently released Emma's hair. The admiral, Elias, and Emmerich all simply watched the entire exchange as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Salvador abruptly stood up and motioned to Gerard and Tomas to follow. "Your ships and men will arrive tomorrow, Your Majesty. Just as Gerard promised. We shall fight alongside you as you conquer the Caraíbes Isles just as long as you pay us our due. But to answer your question, Your Majesty: your gods are not my gods." And they stormed out of the room.

The trio met inside Salvador's room and went over their plan one last time.

"The ships will be here today, yes?" Salvador asked.

"Yes," Gerard answered. "Anytime now. Right when everyone is just waking up and the guard is still drowsy."

Tomas nodded. "It'll be seven galleasses bearing the flag of the Seeker Company the latest message from Bethebleu said."

"And after we evacuate, we sail for Bethebleu, correct," Salvador queried.

Tomas nodded.

"Are we set?" asked Gerard.

"I believe so," Tomas said. "But I shall accompany seigneur Salvador to the plantations."

Salvador raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Why is that so?"

"Because we'll be taking the princess," Tomas replied nonchalantly.

Salvador covered up his surprise. "Oh? And why do you have to accompany me for that..."

Tomas gave a wry smile―a strange sight, seeing a smile on a stone. "To make sure the two of you don't rut on the carriage ride there."

Salvador rolled his eyes but Gerard burst into a fit of laughter. "Humor from Captain Tomas Velazera? Someone has to write down the exact time and date, for this... this is a miracle!"

Gerard grinned. "It seems Salvador has his feelings hurt," he crooned. "Perhaps a hug and a kiss will make you feel better?"

"Okay, okay," he acquiesced. "Let's just get this over with and go home. I'm craving some rice and beans right now."

***

Gerard made his way down to the Grenaserrat harbor accompanied by twenty men of the company that had followed them to Grenaserrat, on horseback and fitted in plate and mail armor. Five days ago, he had gotten a message from Benevo by way of the Barbarudi rookery keeper in the city: a fleet of seven galleasses from Veroña had arrived in the duchy. They were making their way to Grenaserrat and bore the flag of the Seeker Company. About three thousand men in total, including those they had left behind in Bethebleu. If the ships had made good speed and nothing had impeded their progress, they should be here today.

The streets of Grenaserrat City were still empty. Gerard missed the color and brightness that always came with a Carabaí city. From where he was, he could see the docks. Most ships of Carabaí design were gone, replaced by small, ugly Réaltimarine and Élirian longships, however, some had been captured by the Evrúopeans. But wait... there! He saw seven large ships, Carabaí-make. Galleasses, in fact, that bore the flag of the Seeker Company making their way into the harbor.

Gerard grinned. It had worked.

He had written to Duke Martyn Florjes about the deal he had struck with the Barbarudi. He had asked the duke to provide him with galleasses in order to cripple the Réaltimarine fleet before the Evrúopean host could touch Sersalvonian shores. He had gotten a reply a month or so back that the duke had accepted and would work rapidly to come to an agreement with the Duke of Benevo. With these ships, he could fulfill the Duke of Benevo's plan to cripple and eventually defeat the Evrúopeans.

He faced his twenty men, his grin still lighting up his face. "Well, well, my good men. The rest of our Seeker Company has arrived. But we are not here to assist the Evrúopeans, oh no. We are here to make them pay their fill in blood!" The soldiers grinned; they had been penned up next to the Evrúopean invaders for far too long. And for far too long they had been denied the chance to spill Evrúopean blood.

Well, today was the day.

Before the hurricanes arrived.

Gerard dug his stirrups into his horse and set off in a mad gallop down to the docks. It was dawn and many people were groggy, just waking up. The Evrúopean guards were on the last legs of their shifts and almost falling asleep, ready for their station to be taken over by a fresh guard.

Well, Gerard had a bloody surprise for them.

The galleasses turned starboard side and revealed a nasty surprise: onagers and ballistae.

The first shot was by a ballista from the lead ship. It shot a flaming bolt into the air.

A signal.

He hoped Salvador was ready. And safe.

Who am I kidding? He was never safe the second he followed in my footsteps.

The rest of the ships opened fire.

A barrage of ballista bolts and onager stones were flung at the unsuspecting Evrúopeans. Flaming bolts and onager stones crashed through the wood of the ships, sending thousands of splinters into the air and in the surrounding harbor. The shrapnel could be just as deadly as the bolts and stones themselves, piercing through a man and ending his life before his body hit the floor.

Gerard and his men made it to the harbor, where scrambling Evrúopean sailors tried to make for their ships.

It was futile.

Ballista bolts ripped through the ships like a symphony. Gerard could hear the rhythm where others would only hear the chaos. He saw the order in it all. And as if on the final note, the onager stones barreled through the center of the ships, sinking them.

Gerard and his men charged, side-sword swinging and slicing, making mincemeat of men. They galloped to the ship they had taken from Bethebleu to Grenaserrat, where most of the remaining members of the company were. With the boarding plank down, Gerard dismounted and ran onto the ship. He went to where his room was on the ship and went to the secret compartment in his room. He flung open the compartment and grabbed the greatsword of the Evrúopean knight. Faesteel the Evrúopeans called Aes Sídhe steel. With greatsword in hand, Gerard rushed back to the harbor, where the Seeker galleasses were about to dock.

Four of the seven galleasses made it to the pier and unloaded their soldiers. Veroñan men fitted in chainmail, gambeson, and brigandine armor hit the pier running. Their boots hit the wood with a rhythmic beat the permeated the air and sent shivers through Gerard.

They cleared the harbor and pier in a matter of minutes, putting down any Evrúopean that resisted. With no more resistance, the soldiers of Veroña began to burn the Evrúopean ships. They set up choke points at the entry areas of the harbor and began to wait for the Evrúopeans to assault them. They would not leave until Salvador returned.

Or so the Angel King help them.