Heavy weighs the crown. Only now that he wore one was Ivo aware that this phrase was more than hot air from the privileged and powerful.

Back in Saniya, Ivo had felt that the life of a king was surely grand. Yet when he lived it himself, it didn't seem all too fun. When Admiral Atau had asked for volunteers to imitate King Corcopaca in their most recent mission, his fellow sailors had been hesitant.

On the one hand, the Medalans on board wouldn't dare impersonate someone from a higher class, even less so someone they respected as much as they did their king. On the other hand, most of the Arcavians in the fleet didn't have that problem, but were still unwilling. They weren't very attached to Saniya, and neither were they to their king and former guild leader. While most of them liked Corco well enough, few would want to risk their lives for some wild ploy.

And that was what this plan came down to: A risky venture. It was an attempt to draw an attack on the king, to lure out the enemy and deal them a decisive blow. Of course, that would come with plenty of danger to the man who would play king, since all enemy arms would aim at him first. However, Ivo had still been the first to raise his hand, and had thus gotten the job.

As Atau's former first mate, Ivo was much closer to Saniya's center of power when compared to most of his fellow sailors. Through the admiral, he also knew the king better than most. As a result, he hadn't become emotional over the man's personality, but he knew that Corco would reward him handsomely for his service. Emotional and principled as he was, he wasn't a man who would leave such a risk unrewarded, if only to ease his troubled mind.

And unlike some of his fellow sailors aboard the Homeward, Ivo was planning to start a family in Saniya soon. Wouldn't it be much better to start his new life with some additional wealth? Not to mention, being the center of the mission would come with a hero status back in the city. Maybe he would no longer have to endure endure any bad looks from some of Saniya's older locals. Thus, he had been the first to volunteer, though after only a few hours in the position, he realized how harsh reality was.

After their enemies had appeared, the battle had opened hard and quick, almost with no warning. Just in time, he managed to get his rickety boat back to their brigantine and climbed aboard while surrounded by impacts from the enemy cannons. Water splashed his fancy robes and wet him to his core, but he had no time to change.

Right after, combat had moved from maneuver to bombardment to melee within mere minutes. By now, they were being boxed in by their enemies on all sides. All he could see were enemies, and all he could hear were the screams of battle. With no other options left, Ivo called on his own saber and shield to defend himself. His purple robe had long been torn and tattered, though at least he hadn't lost the priceless bronze crown yet.

Since the melee had started, their enemies had been in an overwhelming position. Though at least they had moved slowly, pressing them back step by step. With their advantage in numbers, the attackers had no reason to rush and lose men without need. Even more decisive was the desperate resistance of the Medalans.

Usually, getting captured by an enemy wouldn't be the end of the world. All it took was some ransom and the warrior would be back home. However, this time the Medalan warriors fought to the last, through pain and blood, until they would draw no more breath. For they knew what would happen soon, and that there would be no hostages aboard this ship after battle. Thus, they still somehow held on, even when outnumbered like this.

Just as he looked around to get an estimate of their position, the corner of his eye caught a glint and fast movement. His left shot up, to block the enemy's move just in time. Sparks flew as sword clashed with shield and slid down. Through the exhaustion, Ivo fought the swaying ground and pulled back his leg so the enemy sword wouldn't deflect into his thigh.

As he did, his back pressed against the brigantine's railing. They were out of room for retreat, but he had no time to think. With his step back, he planned a slice from the right to end his foe. Though before Ivo could make his move, the brave enemy warrior who had shoved his way through their lines was swarmed by the defenders and turned into a pin cushion.

An empty look spread on the Verdant warrior's face as he sank to the ground, but Ivo had no time for him either. At first, there had been twenty of them on this ship, but now there were only fifteen left. With worry, he stared towards the south, where the rest of their fleet was sure to hide. Even now, in desperate need of relief, they still hadn't received the signal. Had something happened to the main fleet? Had more enemies appeared and entangled them in battle as well? Worried, his eyes cast down, into the green waters below the railing behind.

By now, they had retreated to the very end of the ship's stern. The last step back they could still take was the big one, off the ship and into the water. But for now, even this luxury was too much. They still had to hold on for a while longer, until they saw the signal or could hold no more.

Again, an attacker tried to break through with a forced charge, but their line of defense only buckled, before the men summoned their courage gained from a journey around the entire world. In unison, they shifted their positions to gain footing on the uneven ground and pushed back their foes one final time.

Then, finally, when he turned around yet again, he saw the signal he had been so desperate for. The blood on the planks was turned even more red by the glow of the distant signal flare. However, for Ivo, it felt like salvation.

“Ready for retreat!” he shouted.

While his men contracted their formation even further, Ivo felt for the cork vest under his clothes. He hoped that his men also wore theirs, but he would have no time to make sure. As a last goodbye to the greedy pirates in front of him, he pulled out a short bamboo tube covered in paper from within his body, a convenient flare that Saniya's masters had just developed. When he pulled the cord at the end, the friction lit a spark and ignited in blazing glory from within the newly burst hole.

During their preparations earlier that day, they had placed a hatch that would lead down into the bowels of the ship right at the stern. Here, so they had planned, they would end up after their prolonged retreat. For now, their plan had been a success, despite their losses. Yet the worst was still to come.

“Retreat!” he shouted in a hoarse voice, and his men used their last strength to shove their enemies away from them one final time. Once the precious little space had been won, they turned, to the man, and jumped into the waters below without hesitation. At the same time, Ivo threw the flare down the hatch and ran with them.

He didn't have time to check the flare's trajectory. He wasn't sure where the fire had landed, or if it would be enough to ignite their payload. However, with the other ships doing the same, they had three chances to get things right. One would be enough to end it all. He just hoped they wouldn't be unlucky enough to have three misfires at once. With that thought, he felt the pull of the earth re-exert its dominance as he landed in the water.

Despite his best efforts, his landing was uncoordinated, and rough. The hard impact drove the air out of his lungs, and before long he was completely submerged. His lungs empty and his mind confused, his body tried to breathe back in, a deadly decision under water. However, just in time his vest did its job and dragged his head back into the air. Although unplanned, a few deep breaths saved his life this time.

Only then did he look around, to check that his crew were in a similar position to his own. Up above, their attackers stared at them with a range of emotions. They looked confused, annoyed or gloating, but none of them made any attempts to follow them.

Yet Ivo didn't feel safe. Instead, he became nervous. After all this time, nothing had happened. Had their plan failed? Had all three ships really failed to fire? How could they be this un-

Halfway through his thought, chaos overloaded his senses. The wave of noise and heat washed over him and robbed his breath once more. Pressed beneath the water, he struggled to get back up, into the precious air. In the end, he needed the help of his cork vest again. When he finally reemerged, the world had changed.

The green sea had turned red, the water replaced by flames. Whatever wasn't on fire was a slurry of wood and bloodied bodies. All around him, he could still hear pieces of wood or cloth fall into the water, launched high into the air by the explosion that had ignited all three decoy ships, as well as the vessels around them.

Aside from the impact of wood on water, the sound of wails, screams and the crackling of fire covered everything else, even the natural waves of the sea. The ships at the center of the battle had been shredded into chunks of wood, the larger ones still burning. Of course, the largest by far was the rest of their decoy ship's hull.

The bottom of the ship below the water line, as well as the stern itself, had been built with solid wood and reinforced right before the battle, in preparation for their suicidal maneuver. Even so, the damage had been devastating. Ivo had come up just in time to see the leftovers of the broken keel sink beneath the sea. The enemy ships had fared slightly better, but had still been hit hard.

At least three of the verdant galleys looked like they were sinking already, and at least one of the cahlian galleons was completely shredded and taking on water fast. From here, he could barely make out the situation around the other two decoy ships, but he assumed it would be the same. However, he had no time to think about distant places like a dozen meters away. He was too preoccupied with his immediate surroundings.

In between the pieces from the ships, dead bodies were floating, killed by the shock wave or by flying debris. Despite their best preparations, he could spot several of his men among the lost souls. Yet now he didn't even have the time to mourn their losses, at least not just yet. The water was quickly draining his strength and warmth, and the burning air hurt his lungs every time he breathed in. First off, he needed to guarantee his own survival.

Thus, Ivo began to swim. The exact direction didn't matter, only away from the flames. On his way, he found one of his comrades floating in the water face up, unconscious and bleeding from his head. Whether the man was still alive or not didn't matter. Ivo clung on to him either way, and dragged him along.

Later, he found more and more of his men, some dead and some alive, though he barely registered a thing. The entire world seemed to appear through a fine fog, everything just a bit dimmed and out of focus. Some fifty meters from their ship's leftovers, Ivo and the other survivors congregated and stared back at the catastrophe they had unleashed. While the last of the large fires was put out by the water and the screams began to ebb, they watched on in numb apathy.

As if to extend the suffering, the sounds of the disaster were replaced by cannon fire. Behind their little congregation, four medalan ships had entered the atoll and were now close enough to fire upon the remaining ships of their enemies. Despite his shock from the thunderous noise, Ivo breathed a sigh of relief. Never before had he been this glad to hear the sound of cannons.

Now their enemies would be too busy worrying about the new threat and wouldn't have time to take aim at the sitting ducks drifting in the water. As the remaining verdant galleys tried to untangle themselves from the burning mess and attempted to turn chaos into an organized retreat, Ivo realized that they had gone through hell and survived. Now all they had to do was wait until their friends would come and pick them up, to return them back from the brink of death.