The Black Tide moved steadily through the morning fog, its heavy iron hull cutting through water that had finally smoothed into a glassy calm.
Justus stood at the bow railing, his crimson eyes fixed on the horizon ahead.
Rising through the mist were jagged, dark mountains, towering over a massive valley settlement encased in towering black-stone walls.
Blackridge.
Justus folded his arms over his chest, taking a slow breath of the frigid Northern air.
“Finally.”
Behind him, Daemon leaned against a wooden crate, his heavy rifle slung casually across his back.
“You sound relieved.”
“I am.”
Kraven strolled past them, swirling a wooden mug in one hand, a wide grin on his face.
“You should be, kid.
When I set sail from Dragon Island, I was heading to Eldermere to personally snap Ragnar’s neck for causing trouble on our turf.
Imagine my surprise when I get there, find out you already flattened him, and then have to chase your trail into the open ocean just to scoop you out of the sea!”
Justus clicked his tongue, looking away.
“If you hadn’t run into me, I still would’ve made it.”
Corvus, standing near the mainmast with his dark cloak folded around him, spoke without turning his head.
“Your ship didn’t.”
Justus glared at him.
“You’re still bringing that up?”
Corvus tilted his masked head slightly.
“You sank a perfectly good vessel because you refused to buy a proper sea chart.”
“I read the map just fine!” Justus snapped.
Kraven burst out laughing, taking a sip from his mug.
“You took the Abyssal Route!
That’s not navigating, little brother—that’s a suicide run.”
“It was a shortcut!
It saved time!”
“You almost got swallowed whole by an Abyssal Leviathan,” Kraven noted dryly.
Justus shrugged.
“Key word: almost.”
Corvus looked over at Kraven.
“He really is an idiot.”
“I’ve been saying that since we pulled him out of the water,” Kraven agreed smoothly.
Justus’s eye twitched, his fists clenching.
“Both of you are completely insufferable.”
“That’s the job description of an older brother,” Kraven said, his grin widening.
He then turned his sharp, predatory gaze toward Daemon, who had been trying to blend into the background.
Kraven took a slow step closer, the casual air dropping for a fraction of a second.
“Speaking of that mess in Eldermere…” Kraven said, narrowing his eyes at Daemon.
“You were one of Ragnar’s top lieutenants, weren’t you?
Big guy with a bigger rifle…
hard to miss.”
Daemon held Kraven’s stare, though his grip tightened slightly on the strap of his rifle.
“Ex-lieutenant.
Ragnar was a lunatic who had it coming.”
Corvus drifted closer, his form almost blending into the shadows cast by the rigging.
“A mercenary’s loyalty shifts with the wind.
Kraven, perhaps we should just throw him overboard.
It saves us the trouble of another betrayer at our backs.”
Daemon shifted his weight, his instincts flaring as he realized he was standing on a deck surrounded by monstrous powerhouses.
“Look, I—”
“He’s part of my crew now,” Justus interrupted casually, waving a hand to brush off the heavy tension.
“He made his choice, and he fights for me.
Drop it.”
Kraven looked at Justus, then back at Daemon.
He leaned in toward Daemon, lowering his voice into a calm, terrifying whisper.
“You heard the captain,” Kraven said, poking a heavy finger into Daemon’s chest armor.
“He says you’re with him.
But listen to me very carefully, mercenary.
If anything—and I mean anything—happens to our little brother on your watch, there isn’t a corner of the North dark enough to hide you from us.
Got it?”
Daemon swallowed hard, feeling the sheer weight of Kraven’s aura, but met his eyes firmly.
“He stays breathing.
You have my word.”
“Good answer,” Kraven chuckled, slapping Daemon on the shoulder hard enough to rattle his teeth.
Justus rolled his eyes.
“Can you two stop threatening my crew?”
“Just establishing proper ground rules,” Kraven said easily, turning back to face the harbor.
The massive, iron-reinforced gates of Blackridge were growing larger with every second.
The quiet weight of what was coming next settled over the deck.
They were about to split up.
The Black Tide couldn’t linger in a Northern port town for long without drawing the entire Guardian fleet or rivals from Queen, and Kraven had duties awaiting him back on Dragon Island.
Kraven walked over, stopping beside Justus, and heavy-handedly rested his palm on his younger brother’s head.
“You’re growing, kid.
It’s always amazing how your body heals up so fast—your wounds from yesterday are gone.”
Justus looked up, frowning.
“Huh?” Then he smiled.
“Guess I’m just too strong.”
“You weren’t this stubborn when you were six,” Kraven chuckled softly.
“I definitely was.”
“No, you weren’t.
You cried for an hour when I took your practice sword.”
“I was six!” Justus protested, his face flushing.
From the mast, Corvus added in a dry, calm tone, “You cried when I hid in the shadow of your room, too.”
Justus whipped around, pointing directly at the masked Left Hand.
“I did NOT!”
Corvus’s shoulders gave a single, subtle twitch.
He was laughing.
“You absolutely did.”
“Enough, enough,” Kraven laughed, putting a hand up.
“We’re at the dock.”
The Black Tide slowed to a crawl, its massive iron anchors dropping into the shallow harbor water with a heavy splash.
The crew moved efficiently around them, preparing the gangplank.
Justus’s smile faded slightly as he looked at Kraven.
“So…
you’re heading straight back?”
Kraven nodded, his expression softening into something rare and genuine.
“We have to return to Dragon Island.
Father’s waiting on our report.”
Justus looked toward the bustling docks of Blackridge, taking it in.
“Right.
Of course.”
Daemon watched the quiet exchange from a few paces back, keeping his mouth shut and letting the brothers have their moment.
Kraven crouched down slightly, bringing himself eye-to-eye with Justus.
“Listen to me, Justus.
Don’t go looking for trouble in the North.”
Justus immediately scowled.
“I don’t look for trouble.”
“Your ship is currently resting on the ocean floor.”
“…”
Corvus added from behind, “And you threw yourself into an Abyssal Leviathan’s beam.”
“I didn’t ask it to attack me!” Justus argued defensively.
“That’s because you didn’t check the route,” Corvus replied simply.
Justus let out a long sigh, tossing his hands up.
“Fine.”
Kraven chuckled, then stepped in and pulled Justus into a brief, firm embrace—a heavy, protective hold.
Justus froze for a second, caught off guard, before relaxing into it.
“Take care of yourself out here, little brother,” Kraven said low.
Justus allowed a small smile.
“You too, Kraven.”
Corvus walked over, stopping in front of Justus.
For a second, Justus wondered if the sharp-tongued assassin was actually going to say something profound.
Instead, Corvus just reached out and patted Justus’s head once.
“Don’t die,” Corvus said flatly.
Justus stared at him.
“…That’s your grand parting advice?”
“It’s effective advice.”
“You are terrible at this,” Justus said.
Corvus gave a slight nod.
“I know.”
Justus let out a genuine laugh.
Together with Daemon, Justus stepped off the gangplank and onto the stone pier of the Blackridge harbor.
Behind them, the iron warship was already beginning to reverse its oars, preparing to pull back into the fog.
Kraven stood at the stern railing, cupping his hands around his mouth.
“JUSTUS!” Kraven yelled across the water.
Justus turned back, raising an arm.
“WHAT?”
Kraven grinned, his voice echoing across the entire port: “GET A NAVIGATOR!”
The entire crew of the Black Tide erupted into roaring laughter, their shouts bouncing off the stone cliffs!
Justus’s face turned bright red as dockworkers turned to stare.
“SHUT UP AND SAIL AWAY!” he yelled back, flustered.
Kraven’s booming laugh carried over the waves.
High on the deck, Corvus raised two fingers in a silent farewell.
Justus raised his hand back, watching as the colossal iron ship slowly faded into the thick Northern mist, leaving only ripples behind.
Silence returned to the pier.
Justus stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty water.
Daemon stepped up beside him, resting his heavy rifle over his shoulder and exhaling a long breath he seemed to have been holding.
“You’re going to miss them.
Though I’m pretty sure my blood pressure just dropped ten points.”
Justus turned his back to the ocean, adjusting Gryphon at his hip.
“…Maybe a little.”
Daemon smirked.
“Come on, kid.”
They turned toward the entrance of Blackridge.
Up close, the town was intimidating.
Massive stone buildings were stacked tightly along the valley floor, tucked between colossal black cliffs.
Thick plumes of gray smoke billowed from forge chimneys, the smell of coal and roasted meat hung heavy in the icy air, and mercenary guards clad in iron armor stood watch at every cobblestone intersection.
Justus took a firm step forward onto the icy cobblestones, a sharp, confident smirk returning to his face.
“Blackridge,” Justus murmured, his crimson eyes scanning the bustling crowd.
“Let’s see what you’ve got.”
High above the harbor, perched silently on the snow-dusted roof of a stone tavern, a hooded figure looked down.
Their eyes quietly tracked Justus and Daemon as the two walked past the guard post and disappeared into the crowded market street.
The stranger slowly pulled down their scarf, exposing a faint, knowing breath of mist.
“Another Tempest…” the figure whispered softly to the wind, before turning into the shadows and vanishing.