EPILOGUE
One year later
I t is said that in the spring of 1736, King Thadrius sat on his throne, draped in the heavy shadows of the throne room of Tidia's dark palace. His hand rested idly on the arm of his seat, where rings of power glittered in the dim light. By his side stood The Captain of the Guard, Diego Hart, tall and proud, his chest puffed as if he had already won a war that hadn’t yet begun.
It is said that in the spring of 1736, the grand doors of that very room groaned open, giving way to a messenger who stumbled inside, his breaths quick and shallow as though he had raced through every corridor of the castle.
“Your Majesty!” the poor messenger blurted, his eyes darting to The King before giving Diego a nervous nod. “Captain.”
The King’s cold gaze narrowed, his voice a low growl. “With what motive do you dare enter my presence in such a manner? ”
The messenger swallowed hard, his throat dry. “We received word from Dallene, Your Majesty.” His voice wavered. “The prisoner… has escaped.”
“The Governor’s son? The artist?” The King leaned forward, disbelief flickering across his face before it was replaced by disdain. “The filthy traitor pirate?”
The messenger’s eyes dropped to the floor as he gave a quick nod.
For a moment, the King’s lip curled in amusement. “Let Prince Edmond deal with it, it’s no longer our concern.”
It is said that in the spring of 1736, after this conversation, the messenger didn’t move.
“What are you still doing here, boy?!” The King’s voice boomed, echoing off the stone walls.
The messenger flinched. In a trembling voice, he said, “Our last ship sank, Your Majesty… The Crown’s Justice is underwater.”
The room turned cold, the weight of the words hanging in the air like a death sentence.
The King’s knuckles whitened as his grip tightened on the armrests. His fury simmered beneath his skin, slowly igniting into something far more dangerous.
“Impossible!” he thundered, rising to his feet. “You incompetent louts! Who could possibly sink the largest ship in the royal fleet?! ”
It is said that in the spring of 1736, after that incomprehensible realization, the messenger hesitated. Fear gripped his tongue, but he forced the words out.
“The same ship that has haunted our entire fleet for over a year, Your Majesty. The one commanded by the pirate who calls himself Captain Love.”
It is said that in the spring of 1736, when The King heard that name, the color drained from his face. For the first time in a year, his heart faltered. His eyes blazed with uncontainable rage, and his scream arose from the depths of his chest—a scream that seemed to shake the very foundations of the ocean.
And it is said that the scream was a name. A name spat with venom, an echo of his rage that reverberated far beyond the throne room, as if the entire Four Kingdoms of Marethys, and even the whole sea, would soon feel the wrath of his fury.
It is said that in the spring of 1736, the name that resounded through the very foundations of the earth was the name of a dead man. But it also was the name of a once-lost daughter.
It is said that the name screamed in the spring of 1736 was Balboa .
It is said that in the spring of 1736, that name was shouted, and across the seas, a captain prepared to shoot an arrow.
But then again, that was only what the winds said, and what the waves brought to the shores.