“We're receiving an emergency message from up ahead!” Nonsense, how could there be any problems? When he received the unexpected report, a worried Wacoca rushed up to the ship's bow and stared towards the horizon. At this distance he could see only some shadows against the glittering waves, so he took out his telescope, a present from his teacher upon his return. Now miraculously larger, the rest of their fleet came into clear view, and with it the image of his younger sister. Atop the largest vessel of the advanced fleet, Sumaci marched around like a queen and barked orders, much to Wacoca's dismay. Stubborn girl, what are you doing again? When they had left Saniya for the war camp of the southern armies next to Qarasi Castle, the girl had insisted that she follow along. Of course, Wacoca hadn't liked her insistence one bit. Still, he had relented to her constant pestering. He knew that she would come anyways, with his approval or without. At least this way, she would make less trouble, or so he had hoped. Despite the obvious futility of his actions, he had made her swear to stay out of anything resembling a fight and remain a pure observer. Yet here she was, taking the command of the ships by herself. She had done this in the past already, on the Verdant Isles. Back then, it hadn't been a big deal and had even been encouraged by their father. A great navigator didn't need to be a man after all, so women from his home didn't have the low status they held here in Medala. With a knack for reading maps and her natural energy, no one could deny Sumaci's talents as a ship's captain. Still, they were not at home anymore, and he had promised his father that he would help her find a suitable Medalan husband to strengthen their alliance with King Corco. Which of these lords would ever want her when she broke all the common customs these people valued so much? Even worse, although the girl liked to show off, Wacoca always felt that she was more at home in a library. She enjoyed the novelty and adventure that the travel on a ship would bring, but the battles, the danger and brutality were never to her tastes, no matter how much she tried to play tough. Even so, despite all the warnings and against her own nature, there she stood again, and shouted her orders at the men. For now though, there was little Wacoca could do about her, what with all that water between them. Rather than focus on his unreasonable sister, Wacoca swung his spyglass to the side, to observe her ship's stern. At the aft of the vessel stood one of their sailors, who transmitted a secret message through a series of flag movements. Semaphore, his teacher Corco had called them. They were a clever system indeed, and one Wacoca had been eager to adapt for his own fleet. As an experienced captain, he had understood their value right away and made sure that the only ones who could read the messages were the captains and the flag bearers. This would only increase the importance of the captain on the ship, and at the same time guarantee loyalty. Content with his care, Wacoca began to decipher the message. However, his confusion only increased as a result. 'Ships starboard. Ships port.' That was what the message said. Which one is it? For a while, he didn't know what his sister meant. What side was the ship coming from? Couldn't they tell somehow? Rather than give hasty orders and increase the confusion further, his eyes remained trained on the flag bearer, until he repeated his message and Wacoca finally saw it in its entirety. 'Enemy blockade ahead. Incomplete. Ships starboard. Ships port.' Damn. Though he didn't know how, somehow the enemy had moved much faster than they had expected. How were they already setting up a barricade? How could this have happened? With the safety of Rapra Castle at the mouth of the Narrow Sea, no enemy fleet should have been able to enter these waters to disrupt their operation. Now their plans seemed foiled. “Full sails ahead! Everyone to the rudders! We need to catch up!” He hadn't seen the enemy ships yet, but he needed to be decisive. After Wacoca had shouted his orders, he observed the fleet in the distance again, as they sped up just the same. At least if their fleets were together, this wouldn't have been so bad. However, when they had tried to set off, the local lords of southern Medala had caused problems again and again, which had led to multiple delays. As a result, the first half of their fleet, loaded with supplies, had been sent ahead. Wacoca had long been fed up with the arrogance and clear disinterest from their local allies, but now he really felt like throwing some idiots overboard to teach them a lesson. When he returned his sight to the flag bearer on Sumaci's ship, more bad news already awaited him. 'Too close. We slip through. You retreat.' “Idiot!” Why would she promise him to stay safe when this girl would go back on her word anyways? All by herself, his sister was planning to break through the incomplete blockade and drop off the supplies in the north, while he and the rest of the army would be left behind, forced to return the way they came. Wacoca was unresigned. Never would he let his sister embark on this dangerous journey by herself. “Faster, damn it!” he shouted to his men. Already they had reached an impressive cadence, but he knew his men well, they were far from their limits. However, while Wacoca was focused on his sister's tail up front, his first mate looked behind. “Captain, any faster and we will lose contact with half our fleet!” When Wacoca turned, he saw the ships loaded with Medala's finest warriors and lords lag behind already. If they couldn't keep up, he would have to stay with them, to organize the retreat. In these dangerous waters, he didn't trust any of the local lords with the navigation. “Blast it all!” he shouted. “Tell them to hurry up then!“ However, despite their urgency, their distance to the supply ships barely reduced, even after an hour of effort. By the time they had almost caught their tail, Wacoca could see the enemy for himself. From the northeast and the northwest, unfamiliar sails peeked over the waves, closing in fast. Their course led them straight past the lonely Island of Prince Eclestius. Although this route had guaranteed their safe passage so far, there were reefs and sandbanks aplenty, and little room to maneuver. For a bit he estimated in his head, hoped that he would be able to make it before the enemies arrived. “Captain! We need to turn!” his first mate shouted, but Wacoca remained determined. Somehow, someway. If only those lords weren't so useless. Since they had lacked the speed for a clean journey, they would have to get creative. He remembered a passage through the reefs. If only they showed enough boldness, they could fulfill their mission yet. “Correct course three hands starboard. We're aiming for the reefs.” Although his first mate looked unconvinced, none of Wacoca's men would ever question his judgment. Like a single body, they worked together and soon closed in to their target. They would show the remaining fleet the way, all the lords had to do was follow. However, just as there seemed to be a glimmer of hope, more bad news arrived. “Message from our aft!” This cannot be good. When he reached the stern and looked at the ships of his allies, his tense face turned into a mask of anger. What were these cowards doing? Half the lords' ships had already turned to retreat. Whatever was left sent him one final message: 'Enemy spotted. Retreat.' "Of course there is a damn enemy, you bastards! That's why we're rushing!” Front and back, no one would listen to his words. What point was there in getting past the enemy with a single ship? Why risk his crew's lives for almost nothing? He knew his mission had failed, he knew his sister would be on her own. “Captain! We need a decision now!” “Damn it all! Turn back! Those cowards better not lose us the war, that king better not lose my sister! Or we will never forget this slight, this cowardice.” With a grim face, Wacoca watched Sumaci's fleet disappear over the horizon, as it was replaced by two Medalan fleets from the east and the west. His eyes didn't turn until even they had disappeared, as they sat in front of the lonely islands, content to prevent Wacoca's passage. The door was closed, the path cut off. Corco and Sumaci were on their own. After Palletio had left the mansion behind and taken place within his palanquin, he could finally put away his fake smile and relax his neck. Although he didn't mind conversation, and indeed relished in it, his talks over the last days were more akin to those of a beggar, something far beneath the great House of Pluritac. If only they could do away with this nonsense triumvirate already, he could pay these excessive lords back, silver and bronze, and be rid of this unseemly predicament. Over the past weeks, he had spent most of his days like this. In search of additional allies for King Pachacutec, he had rushed from one mansion to another. Although the number and quality of troops under the king's command were more than enough to deal with the south, they also consumed a lot of food, and a lot of coin. As a result of the ongoing war, the funds of the split House Pluritac were strained beyond reason. Although the lords who remained in the capital were cowards who did not want to participate in the war, they were still eager to secure a slice of the pie by giving away their wealth for the good cause. Of course, all of them tried to get the most out of the arrangement and haggled like merchants, which had kept Palletio so busy over these days. Just as he was about to lean back and relax, he could feel the palanquin stop, and before he could open the drawers to inquire the complication, he already heard an out of breath voice answer his question. “Official Palletio, important news have arrived from the south!” As the official main advisor of House Pluritac, Palletio knew all of his subordinates, which meant he knew this voice as well. It was one of the family runners. Indeed, when he pulled open the curtain, he saw himself opposite the familiar face, though the man looked much worse for wear than Palletio remembered. He had smelled the thick sweat long before he saw it, but the stream of countless droplets on the face only reinforced the miserable image. A constant cloud of steam rose from the runner's body and disappeared into the freezing winter air of Arguna. His chest heaved as he held out his hand, a letter grasped within. As soon as Palletio saw the color of the seal, he realized why his runner looked so exhausted. Within the system of the Pluritac runners, red indicated highest urgency. This man must have run dozens of miles by himself to arrive without delay. With increased worry, Palletio opened the letter and began to read. “Is this information confirmed?” he asked the messenger after he had skimmed the message, one eye still on the words. “Almost certainly. Southern troops have landed in Sinchay and have begun to construct an encampment. King Corco has begun his counterattack.” “...come inside,” Palletio said and slid away from the entrance to make room. This was not a conversation they should hold out in the open street, least of all in Arguna. As soon as the runner had entered, Palletio hit the front of his compartment to make his warriors resume their march. “Although the content is worrisome, the letter tells me precious few details. How many men have the southerners brought with them? What is the exact nature of their camp? Is it temporary or permanent?” “Though this servant is deeply distraught, so far, little is known. Our men in the south thought it more prudent to relay the information as soon as possible.” “And you did well to do so. The king cannot know about this,” Palletio mumbled. “Official?” Large-eyed, the servant looked around to see if anyone had heard his master's traitorous words. “You did not mishear.” Despite the runner's suspicion, Palletio remained calm. He had nothing to hide, and no manner of accusation would change that. “King Pachacutec is still too young, too eager to prove himself. It is a servant's duty to protect him from his own courage. For now, we know almost nothing of the strength and composition of the southern forces, not even how they crossed the sea this fast without our knowledge. We cannot rush into an engagement, even less so if that is exactly what the southern king wants.” “What the king wants?” his dull runner asked. However, for now Palletio would humor him. He needed to dispel the man's fanciful suspicions to guarantee smooth operations in the future. “Maybe King Corcopaca intends to force a move out of our troops to move in from the south and encircle us. Maybe he has set up an ambush along the way and wants to wipe us out as we are on the march. For now, it is our priority to not get caught up in the southern king's plans. As long as we do not follow his wishes, we will be in good shape, even if inaction seems like a weak choice. Our position is one of absolute dominance, so we need to avoid mistakes first and foremost. Thus, we need to remain unmoved until we can make a more accurate judgment.” “Understood, master. This servant will do his best to support King Pachacutec, even if it means insubordination, even if it costs this servant's life.” In the end, the runner was a good man, worthy of the name Pluritac. Gratified, Palletio nodded his head. “Good. You will send out additional runners right away. Make sure they reach the messengers en route to King Pachacutec and delay for a few additional days. This official will draft a short advisory letter for King Pachacutec. Have it arrive no more than a day after the initial message. So long as King Pachacutec does not overreact to this provocation, there is no need to worry. The more King Corco moves, the more he shows his desperation. All we need to do is retain our calm. After all, how much damage can he do, stuck on the coastline?”