The ships landed on the white sand beaches of the quiet Sersalvonian village. It was dawn, and so the people of the village were just waking up and rubbing the sleep from their eyes.

The ships were unboarded, and rows of men-at-arms clad in chainmail and brigandine armor with kettle hats and armed with spears, polearms, and short swords at their sides.

The sound of the peaceful morning was split by screams.

The men-at-arms cut down anyone in sight, spears jabbing, polearms falling, and swords swinging. Mothers grabbed their children and tried to run away, but were pierced with crossbow bolts. Some fathers grabbed spears, pitchforks, cleavers, hammers and tried to defend their wives and children, but they were cut down all the same. Those white sand beaches soon were stained with blood.

The small dock filled with fishing boats were soon all ablaze. Barbarudi warships equipped with ballistae and catapults were firing their blazing loads onto the unsuspecting boats. The sigil of Barbaruda and Réaltimar flew high and proud in the sky, safe from the bloodshed below.

Elias himself landed on the crimson-stained beaches. He was with High Guard, protecting King Peter as he strolled through the carnage. The young king was smiling as he surveyed the destruction, clad in his Faesteel armor, enameled green and gold-bearing the peryton of Réaltimar. Elias had the urge to shake his head in disgust, for the peryton was not so wanton with fire. But he was a soldier, and he resisted.

He also had half a mind to run out to the village and to stop the slaughter. He had served many campaigns with Peter's father, the late King of Réaltimar. Lyeona had been a bloody twelve years. Many times he had led raids against villages and towns, ordered to draw out the lords who reigned over them into open battle. But even those had never seen such slaughter. It had never been a needless slaughter. But this... this was the work of a child who had been denied what he had wanted.

There was no order. Only chaos. And Peter reveled in it. The smile never left his face as he saw the village burn. There were a dozen other attacks like this one happening all over the Duchy of Rivièrra. Where the blood of peasants ran in rivers and fire blossomed.

In the end, about thirteen peasants had been taken prisoner, ranging from men, boys, women, and children. "Put them on the star," Peter ordered. And the men obeyed. Thirteen stars were raised up in a circle around the village, the sign of the Faith of Réaltimar. The Gods of the Star. The thirteen peasants were nailed to each star, left out to slowly die from the elements. As they died, the priests of the Star began a prayer. And the men of Réaltimar prayed beside the screams of the dying peasants of Rivièrra. When they left in their ships, the fires of the village had stopped, leaving only the black and gray ash in its wake.

It all happened so fast, and yet every second felt as if it were an hour while he was there. Drowning himself in disgust. Perhaps he should've done something... he was the Lord High Steward after all. The second most powerful man in the kingdom. He could've stopped the slaughter. Brought order to the chaos.

But it would've been at the cost of defying Peter. The son of his best friend. He still remembered King Karl Altendorf of Réaltimar. A man who incorporated Élira into the kingdom and subjugated Lyeona, the greatest rival to Réaltimar. His sudden death left his budding son the crushing weight of an empire that had only lasted for little less than a decade. One that was still frayed at the seams and needed to be repaired and tightened.

So far, Peter had failed.

The new King of Réaltimar had managed to get them stuck in a war on foreign soil and seas over a thousand leagues from home. The end of this war was nowhere near in sight despite what they said. There were thousands of islands in the Caraíbes Isles. Each with its own lord or lady. Each that they would have to invade. And even now, there was a sickness spreading amongst the men. Hopefully, it was nothing too large, but Elias had his doubts. They were in a new land with a multitude of illnesses they had never seen.

Something must be done.

Elias stripped off his armor and entered his dress clothes, a button-up green suit with cuffed sleeves and gold epaulets with a high color that was decorated by intricate gold threadings depicting a prancing peryton and roaring lion. On his breast, the sigil of House Ardenet: Party per fess, red and gold with a silver lion rampant sinister. He wore a black bicorn with a gold plume. His boots were high and black and his pants a stark white. And being the Lord High Steward, he also wore a silver cape that fluttered gently in the wind.

Once more, they were on the rolling dunes of the ocean that was the Caraíbes Sea. Elias strode to the High King who was surrounded by his guard, but they let the Lord High Steward through. "Your Majesty," he began, "where do we sail to next?"

Peter contemplated the question. "Perhaps we should meet up with the Barbarudi queen and sail on the fortress of Rivièrra itself. Force the duke to give up the birthplace of Salvador."

"And you truly think that highborn lords will know the birthplace of one of their thousands of subjects?"

Peter stiffened. "Do you doubt me?"

Elias felt his annoyance grow. "I doubt this plan of yours. We are showing our strength to the Sersalvonians by assaulting a duchy with little strategic importance. We should be assaulting Veroña! They are the strongest duchy in Sersalvon. And we've been hearing word that Houser Florjes has gathered their strength and gone off to war to support Prince Benedict in his bid for the Serpent Throne. The chance to strike could not be riper!"

Peter lifted his hand to silence Elias. "Sersalvon is no match for us. Let their squabbling lords and ladies kill each other off. They were nothing to us before and they will be even less after. I want to kill Salvador! And save my sister!"

"Then we can pay a ransom."

Silence fell. Peter slowly turned and stared Elias straight in the eye. "What did I just hear? Pay a ransom? Me? Peter Altendorf, King of the Holy Kingdom of Réaltimar? Pay a ransom to mercenaries?"

Elias did not waver. "Yes, Your Majesty. It is the smartest option. And the safest."

Peter barked in laughter. "That's the equivalent of telling every mercenary in the Isles that they should just steal my sister because I will pay them off."

Elias shook his head. "No, it's not," he insisted. "This will never happen again."

Peter's entire demeanor changed. He lunged forward and grabbed Elias by his uniform. "Damn straight it won't. Because the next time it does, I'll find myself a new bloody Lord High Steward."

The lords of Réaltimar and Barbaruda held a meeting at a tower house at the northern tip of the Duchy of Rivièrra. The tower house had fallen easily, with the defenders surrendering after seeing the immense number of Réaltimarine and Barbarudi soldiers, hoping to be spared.

Of course, they weren't.

Elias could see the disgust in the eyes of the Barbarudi as one by one, every defender had their head lopped off except for thirteen men, who were placed on a star and ringed around the tower house before being set on fire. The Barbarudi men and women also believed in this Angel King of the Sersalvonians. And although the two nations despised each other, religion was something they always had together.

However, the group of lords gathered here seemed smaller than ever despite the addition of the Barbarudi. Elias knew that many Réaltimarine lords were taking ships and heading back to their castles in Réaltimar, tired of this foreign war.

The meeting was held outside of the tower house to accommodate the number of nobles present. The Queen of Barbaruda approached Peter in all her glory. The two stood next to each other for a time, waiting for the other to bow. But Peter did not break. He stared the queen right in the eye and stood fast. Eventually, the Barbarudi queen gave in and curtsied. Peter followed with a bow of his own.

"How do you fare, Your Majesty?" Peter said to the Barbarudi queen.

She smiled. "I fare well, Your Majesty. How fare you?"

Peter sighed. "I would fare better if I knew the village where the mercenary, Salvador was born in."

The queen nodded. "I have had little success as well. These Sersalvonian men and women are loath to talk to a Barbarudi."

"Your Majesties!" a voice called from the crowd of gathered nobles. "If I may speak, I have news that would bring joy to your gloomy day!"

Elias knew that voice. He snarled. Admiral Caelius.

"Caelius?" Peter called back.

The Lord Admiral pushed his way to the front of the crowd. "The one and only." His dark hair was ruffled, giving him a charming look. Behind him was Treasurer Emmerich. "I have found what you have been seeking?"

Peter's eyes widened. "You have?" He was almost... breathless. As if this was what he had been searching for his entire life.

The admiral shook his head eagerly. "Why, I have found the birthplace of Salvador Castellano! The Peasant Mercenary, the right hand of the Freelancer Knight."

The Barbarudi queen rolled her eyes at the display. She tried to be subtle, but Elias caught the action. "Do tell, Lord Admiral."

Caelius gave the queen a roguish smile. "I shall, Your Majesty. The nefarious peasant was born in the town of Sapinsville, right in the heart of this dreadful island. Nestled quietly against the Corriende River. It is governed by the brother of the Duke of Rivièrra. It is the largest town in Rivièrra."

Peter giggled. Like a child. "How did you come by this information, my great Lord Admiral."

"'Twas a team effort between the Lord Treasurer and I. 'Twas I who found the men and women and 'twas Lord Emmerich who made them talk. With coin."

That darkened Peter's mood. "You paid the barbarians coin?"

"For information, Your Majesty," the Treasurer hurriedly said. "And we did not let them keep it, if you understand my meaning."

The darkness over Peter's face dissipated. "Yes, I do. Well done, Emmerich. Well done, Caelius. I shall see that the two of you are rewarded for this."

Caelius bowed. "'Tis but my duty to serve my lord king. All we need to do is follow the Correinde, and we shall be led to Sapinsville." This next smile Caelius gave was a sly one. Closely resembling his sigil, the Fox of House Juventia. "And we shall give them fire."

Peter grinned right back. "Starfire."