Gerard shouldered his way to one of the chokepoints set up by the Veroñan soldiers. This group raised a standard that signified a high-ranking officer was present.

"Who goes there!" a gruff voice called, with a tint of femininity.

"Sir Gerard Elwyn, the Freelancer Knight of Veroña!" he answered in kind.

"Well, strike me stupid! Gerry?" A large female decked in plate and mail armor lifted the visor on her bascinet. On her shoulder rested a large, spiked, two-handed warhammer. Her eyes were the same as his: a warm brown misted over with grey. Her build was the same as his as well. And the sound of her voice reminded him of home―not Veroña, but the small farm of his father.

Gerard smiled warmly. "Hello, sister."

The Dame Stéphane Elwyn charged Gerard and wrapped him in a massive bear hug. "Gerry!" she boomed.

Gerard laughed and returned the hug fiercely. When they parted, he rested his hands on her shoulders and patted her. "I thought you were still fighting in the colonies of Soyove Royne!"

His sister grinned. "I returned only a month or so ago. My contract ended and the Duchess recalled us. We arrived in Fiorá to find that the entire duchy had been roused and the Duchess had called back already a dozen free companies, give or take." Her grin slowly began to fade. "The Duke Consort sent us to aid you and then immediately left to lead a host to Luxuano."

Gerard frowned. "What's happening on Luxuano?"

"Just before I left Bethebleu, a message came from Sersalvon. The king is dead."

Gerard's eyes widened. "And the Duchess has raised a host?"

Stéphane nodded.

Gerard felt a little dizzy. "She's making a play... for the throne?"

Stéphane shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. Marcel's company was called back. I managed to speak with him briefly before we parted ways. He said that he was heading for Navitium."

Gerard tried to wrap his head around the information and tried to piece together what was happening on the main island of Sersalvon. Eventually, he gave up and simply pushed the thought aside, for later.

"Well... now we must defend against the Réaltimarine invaders," Gerard said.

"We're still waiting for Salvador, eh?"

Gerard nodded.

Stéphane grinned once more. "Let the bastards come!"

The soldiers cheered. But their cheers were soon cut short and quickly changed into cries of alarm as the Réaltimarines were spotted."

Stéphane shook her head vigorously, as if in an attempt to clear her head. "Let's go."

They went to a position where they could better survey the site. The Réaltimarine knights had gathered in front of every choke point, preparing to charge.

Stéphane gripped her warhammer fiercely. "My blood sings for battle."

Gerard blinked. His sister was the opposite of him in just about every single way. He allowed himself a smile and tenderly handled his greatsword.

The Réaltimarines charged.

"Hold the line!" an officer shouted.

When the knights collided with the mercenaries, the battle became a mess of screaming men, horses, and blood. The mercenaries barely managed to absorb the charge.

"They're pushing heavy in the center," Gerard noticed.

Stéphane snorted. "They're pushing heavy everywhere."

Gerard pointed with his sword. "Look. See that banner? It's two swords and a falcon, white on a blue field. It's the sigil of the Lord High Steward, Elias Ardenet."

Stéphane sighed. "I guess they are then."

Gerard nodded.

Stéphane charged to the center choke point, her warhammer in the air as she shoved the mercenaries out of her way. Gerard had half a mind to follow her, but he stayed back in case he saw another weak point in the lines. He could make out Stéphane's tall figure, smashing her way through the knights, a bloody swath, leaving only sacks of meat behind.

Gerard noticed that the easternmost choke point was struggling and some knights were making it through. He was about to rush over, when the sound of ballista fire caught his attention.

He turned towards the harbor and saw men on the galleasses shouting and scrambling their ships as they pointed at something farther out to sea. Gerard's heart fell when he saw what it was.

A fleet of warships heralding the flag of Benevo and Barbaruda.

Oh no... he thought. They had been betrayed.

A flaming boulder from a catapult streaked through the sky like a comet before crashing into a galleass. The once calm, glittering waters of the Grenaserrat Harbor were now littered with shipwood and dead bodies.

Gerard did not think. He only acted.

He bolted to the center choke point, where Stéphane still swung her warhammer from side to side, knocking bodies over and smashing in the faces of poor Réaltimarine knights.

"Stéphane!" he screamed. The clamor of battle drowned out his voice. "Stéphane! Stéphane! Stéphane!" His throat went raw from screaming.

He spotted her tall figure, in the thick of battle, surrounded by knights on all sides. She was pulling them down from their horses and impaling them on her warhammer spike. She was crushing the legs of their horses from underneath them. The knights relied on mobility on shock to deal damage to infantry, but they were all cramped with little space to move, rendering that advantage ineffective. Gerard pushed his way through the holding mercenaries and reached the frontline. He swung his greatsword in a wide arc and slashed a young Réaltimarine knight at his chainmail gorget. The Sídhe steel sliced through the mail easily, spilling the knight's throat out. He slowly tumbled off his horse, but Gerard gave him no notice and faced the next knight, knocking him off his steed with a savage blow. He left all grace and chivalry behind; his sister was in danger.

Gerard unleashed a beast.

His strikes were all one fluid, never-ending motion, as he flowed from knight to knight, brutally ending their lives. His strikes were quick and deadly, savage blows that tore through full plate armor and left bodies no longer bodies but instead a bloody mess of limbs and bones. He sliced through horse legs and tore through the knights, a knight of death.

"Stéphane!"

He broke through the knights and found his sister surrounded by the Réaltimarines and swinging her warhammer to keep them at bay.

"Stéphane! Follow me!"

"What?" she shouted at him.

"No time to explain!" he roared and without another thought, he grabbed his sister and shoved her behind with all his strength. Immediately after, he swung his greatsword to deflect the thrust of a spear. The Sídhe steel left a vicious tear in the lance tip. The knights surrounding attacked; he caught multiple glancing blows from multiple weapons, but none yet pierced his plate. He rushed back towards the mercenary line, but as he was running, he felt the tip of a lance pierce the back of his knee. A cry of pain tore through his lips and he tumbled to the ground. But Stéphane was there and she threw Gerard onto her shoulders and ran back to the mercenary line. A group of mercenaries broke from the front line and fought their way to Gerard and Stéphane. The rest of the troops, seeing their success, cheered and advanced, pulling down Réaltimarines from their steeds left and right.

"No!" Stéphane bellowed. "Fall back! Fall back!" It seems she had seen they had been betrayed. The soldiers, confused, halted their advance and retreated. At the same time, the Réaltimarine knights also retreated. As the two lines parted, they revealed piles of dead horses, knights, and mercenaries. The Réaltimarines did not wheel back around for another charge, but instead dispersed to reveal a line of professional men-at-arms on foot. On their shields, they wore the sigils of the royal peryton of the Royal House of Réaltimar and the falcon of House Ardenet.

By now, some of the mercenaries had noticed that their ships were burning and sinking behind them. They shouted and alerted their brothers-in-arms, causing a mass panic. The men didn't know what to do: should they fall back and try to save their ships? But they may very well die on the decks of the galleasses if they do.

It was the end of them.

The Réaltimarines, noting their confusion, charged. Infantry and knights alike rushed at the mercenaries. Seeing their adversaries running at them in a bloodied frenzy and their only way back home being burnt, the mercenaries broke.

Stéphane was huffing and puffing underneath him. Her face had turned bright red and she seemed to be struggling for breath. Yet she did not complain.

"Put me down," Gerard said, groaning.

Stéphane still did not complain and she dropped him on his feet, but kept his right arm draped over her shoulders.

"To the caravel! The Barbarudi will be firing at the galleasses, but not the caravel!" he croaked.

He pointed at the caravel he had taken to come to Greneaserrat City. "Salvador will do the same."

He noticed Stéphane slightly shake her head, but she said nothing. When they were on the caravel, she dumped Gerard onto a random bed and yelled at the terrified captain to get the ship going. The captain scrambled to the wheel.

"Wait!" Gerard shouted. "Salvador!"

Stéphane entered the room and looked at her brother with a sad expression. "I'm sorry, Gerry. It's too late."

"No." He gritted his teeth and hauled himself out of bed and onto the deck. The caravel was just starting to pull away from the pier. The harbor had transformed into a slaughter; the Réaltimarine knights were running down the fleeing mercenaries who were trying to reach the galleasses, only to find themselves sink as a barrage of bolts and boulders smashed into them from the barrage of the Barbarudi.

"Salvador," Gerard whispered.

"Brother, it's too late I'm sorry. Go b―"

"No. Look!"

Stéphane followed his gaze and saw four riders, galloping at full speed towards them. Tomas, Salvador, Princess Emma, and some other man were riding like the daemons of old were behind them. Tomas had an arrow sticking through his shoulder and Salvador held a dead look in his eyes.

"Wait!" Tomas cried. The captain of the caravel ordered a boarding plank be set down. Once it was down, the four riders entered the ship.

"Go! Go! Go!" Tomas urged.

The ship left the pier and began to make its exit out of the harbor. The Barbarudi warships ignored the small caravel as they focused on the mercenary galleasses. A few of the galleasses had managed to leave the pier and were firing back at the Barbarudi warships, transforming the Grenaserrat waters into a fiery naval battlefield. The sailors of the caraval, Lily's Wind it was called, manned the ballista and prepared to fire. Stéphane had the Seeker Company banner lowered from the ship and ordered the captain to go at full speed, although he needed no urging.

Through the chaos, destruction, and confusion, Lily's Wind managed to slip away undetected, from the fiery massacre of the Grenaserrat Harbor.