Louai woke an hour before dawn, not to the roar of waves or the creaking of wood, but to the absence of sound itself. The sea had fallen silent suddenly, as if holding its breath before speaking. This silence—unlike any other, the silence of the sea before change—had become in recent days a signal Louai no longer ignored. In the past days, he had learned that this kind of silence never boded well. It carried within it a promise of change, and sometimes of danger...
He sat up in his narrow bed and reached toward the small wooden table where he had placed the map, the pen, and the piece of dry bread before sleeping. The darkness was still thick in the cabin, but his eyes had grown accustomed to this low level of light. He found the pen. He found the bread. But his fingers did not find the map. He paused for a moment, his eyes still closed, as if granting himself an extra second before facing what he already knew. He knew the map had not fallen, had not moved from its place. He knew something had happened.
He opened his eyes and turned his head slowly toward the table. The map was not there. But something else was: a small knife fixed into the wood of the table, with a thin blade and a dark bone handle. It was not an ordinary knife, but a dagger. And on it was the emblem of House Valtor: a raven perched on a hammer. Louai had known this emblem since childhood. He had seen it on the doors of his mother's chambers, on the rings of his relatives, on the seals of letters coming from the north. There was no doubt about its identity, but that did not make it any less mysterious.
He picked up the dagger carefully and turned it in his hand. Its metal was cold, and the bone handle was smooth from frequent use. This was not a new dagger, but an old one, used many times. He raised it toward the faint light seeping through the small window and examined the blade. There was no blood, but there was a dark stain near the edge, like old rust or the residue of organic matter. This dagger had not been used only to fix itself into the table; it had been used for something else before that.
He placed it on the table and rose from his bed. His body was tired from the past four days—from lack of sleep, from constant tension, from endless decisions. But his mind was clear, as always in moments of danger. He knew Gilbertt had disappeared, and that the dagger was a message. But a message from whom? And why?
He emerged onto the deck, where he found Dorik standing at the helm, looking at the gray horizon with clear concern. The old captain had seen something, and he did not need to say it, because Louai was approaching him with a face that said enough.
"Gilbertt is gone," Louai said without preamble, raising the dagger for Dorik to see. "And this was left behind."
Dorik looked at the dagger, then at Louai, his single eye narrowing in focus. "The Valtor emblem. Your mother's house."
"Or someone who wants to make it seem that she did it." Louai placed the dagger on the small table beside the helm. "When did you notice his absence?"
"An hour ago. I saw the small boat unfastened from the ship's stern, but it was still tied. I went down to check it and found signs of struggle." Dorik paused for a moment, choosing his words. "Blood. Torn cloth. The map was thrown on the boat's planks, wet but intact."
"And the map now?"
"In your cabin. Gilbertt returned it before he was taken, or the kidnappers dropped it because they didn't want it."
Louai approached the ship's edge and looked at the calm water reflecting the light gray of the sky. He was thinking quickly, arranging the possibilities in his mind like numbers in a ledger. Each possibility carried different consequences, and each consequence required different reactions. There were three main possibilities: first, that Kasian had kidnapped Gilbertt to use him as a witness against him. Second, that House Valtor had done it, to silence him or to use him as a tool against Kasian himself. Third, that a third power in the Archipelago had kidnapped him, to learn what he knew about the deal...
But the dagger bore the Valtor emblem. That meant the first two possibilities were the strongest. The third possibility was weak because the creatures of the Archipelago would not know the Valtor emblem, or care about it.
"Gilbertt did not escape," he said finally. "His boat was still tied, meaning he was taken before he could untie it. And the blood means he resisted. And the map was left because they don't want it. All of this says one thing: the kidnappers want Gilbertt himself, not what he carries."
"And why would they want an old man like Gilbertt?"
"Because he was my scribe." Louai's voice grew colder. "Because he knows what I did in the past four days. Because he can tell the Emperor that I was negotiating with the Archipelago, plotting against my own family. Not as a fair witness, but as a traitor confessing everything to save his own life."
Dorik paused for a moment, then said: "Does he know everything?"
Louai looked at the old captain, his eyes gleaming with that cold brilliance known to his advisors. "No. Gilbertt knew what I wanted him to know. I never told him everything. I knew he was weak, and that his weakness could be used against me. But what he knows is enough to form a dangerous picture of me in the Emperor's mind, if framed correctly."
Louai stood silent for a moment, thinking about everything Gilbertt knew. He knew about his journey to the Archipelago. He knew about the deal with Lithan. He knew about the salt, and about the closing of the fog. But he did not know about Kasian's spies in the palace, because he had not been there at the time. And he did not know about the Information Market, because Louai had taken him there but had not shared the details. And he did not know about Kasian's letter, because it had arrived after his kidnapping. These blind spots were his only weapon now.
"So what do you do? Go after him?"
"No." Louai said it decisively, turning away from the ship's edge. "We have a deadline that ends at sunset today. Gilbertt is not the goal. The goal is to reach Oswald before the picture Kasian is painting of me in my absence is complete."
"And if Gilbertt reaches Kasian before we do?"
"If he does, he will have beaten us by hours. But that changes nothing. The only choice is to arrive first, and present our version before his is presented. Kasian may have the witness, but I will have the presence. And the Emperor, no matter how biased he may be toward Kasian, does not decide based on one witness alone. He wants to see with his own eyes."
Louai walked a few steps toward the ship's bow, then stopped, as if something had drawn his attention to the left. "Dorik, look at that."
He noticed something strange on the left side of the ship. There was wreckage floating on the water, a few hundred meters away. It was not a rock, nor a seabird, but something else, something man-made.
Dorik approached and looked intently, then his expression turned to deeper concern. "Northern pine wood. This is not old wreckage, but recent. From two or three days ago."
"Do you know what it is?" Louai asked.
"House Valtor's merchant ships are built from this wood." Dorik's voice grew quieter. "Perhaps one of their ships was passing through the passage when the fog was closed."
Louai stood silent, looking at the wreckage slowly drifting away from them with the current. He remembered his decision the previous night: close the fog immediately, even if there was a ship in the passage. He knew a price would be paid. But he had not expected that price to be the blood of his mother's family, giving them a political excuse to attack him. He knew this wreckage would be a weapon in Kasian's hands, and in his mother's hands. He knew they would say: "Louai killed innocents from his own family to complete his deal." And he knew that this accusation, even if unfair, would be heavy.
But he also knew that if he had not closed the fog, Liridan would have used the passage to flood the Empire with weapons and money. He knew the innocents who died on that ship were far fewer than those who would die in war. But numbers, no matter how correct, do not cool the anger of parents who lost their children.
"A Valtor ship," Louai said, his voice carrying neither regret nor triumph, but merely an acknowledgment of reality. "Now they have another reason to hate me."
"Does this change your decision?"
"No." He turned away from the wreckage and returned to his cabin. "We continue on course. We have four hours to Cano, and then the road to the capital."
On his way to the cabin, Louai paused for a moment and looked at the dagger still in his hand. He knew this dagger had not been left here by accident. It was a message, and he had to understand it. But understanding it now was not possible. He had to reach Oswald first, and face what awaited him there. After that, he would have time to understand.
The next four hours passed in tense silence. The winds were favorable, the currents stable after the fog's closure, as if the sea was granting them a final chance to arrive on time. Louai stood at the ship's bow, his eyes fixed on the western horizon, where the coastline was beginning to appear as a faint gray thread between water and sky. The coast was still far away, but it was there, waiting for him. Reminding him that the deadline was ending, that everything was at stake.
Dorik was silent too, steering the ship with expert hands, his single eye moving between the sails and the water. But he was thinking. Louai knew this from his breathing, from his grip on the helm, from his glances that lingered longer than necessary. There was something troubling the old captain, something he had not yet said.
Halfway through, as the sun began to rise above the horizon, Louai said without turning: "Dorik, you have something to say. Say it."
The old captain hesitated for a moment, then said in a low voice: "We have been together four days, Prince. I have seen you negotiate with beings that humans do not understand, and I have seen you make decisions that could cost you your life. But I have never seen you afraid. Not once."
"I am not afraid," Louai said, his voice calm.
"I know." Dorik smiled a dry smile. "That is what worries me. Because fear is not weakness, Prince. Fear is what makes you see danger before it reaches you. If you lose fear, you lose the ability to anticipate. And you still need that ability in the coming days."
Louai turned toward Dorik and looked at him for a long moment. There was something in the old captain's words that he had not heard before, something like a faint paternal advice from a man who had known the sea more than he had known people. Dorik had lost his leg in the Archipelago twenty years ago, and he was still here, sailing these waters, knowing them like the back of his hand. This was not just a job for him, but a life. And Louai, despite all his intelligence, was still a stranger in this world.
"Have you ever lost fear, Dorik?" Louai asked suddenly.
Dorik looked at him with his single eye, as if the question had opened a door he had not touched in years. "Once. When I decided to sail to the Archipelago for the first time, as a young fool who thought he was invincible. I lost my leg on that voyage. And I learned that fear is the only friend that stays with you at sea. Everything else can betray you: the wind, the currents, even the crew. But fear... fear does not betray. It stays with you, whispering caution in your ear, keeping your heart beating."
Louai paused for a moment, then said: "Perhaps you are right. But I do not have the luxury of fear now. I have limited time, an enemy moving against me, and a witness who could destroy everything I have built. Fear will be a luxury for tomorrow."
"If tomorrow comes," Dorik said, and returned to his silence.
The journey continued in silence, but Louai was thinking about Dorik's words. He knew the old captain was right about one thing: fear was not an enemy, but a tool. But he also knew he did not have time for fear. He had time only to act.
On the way, he thought about Kasian. He knew his brother was intelligent, perhaps more than anyone in the family. Kasian was not stupid like Lucas, nor emotional like Jessica. Kasian was cold, calculating, like Louai himself. But he lacked something Louai possessed: patience. Kasian wanted everything now, and was willing to take any risk to get it. This, in the end, was his weakness. Because big risks lead to big mistakes. And Louai was waiting for that mistake.
As for Gilbertt, he was different. Gilbertt was not an enemy, but a tool. A tool used by Kasian, and a tool used by Louai as well. But tools, when they become useless, are discarded. And Gilbertt had become useless to both sides. Perhaps his disappearance was the best thing that could happen to him. Because living as a tool in two different hands is worse than death.
In the hour before their arrival at Cano, Louai noticed something strange on the distant shore. Cano was not a large port, merely a small fisherman's dock, rarely visited by anyone outside the village. But today, there was a horse tied near the dock, with a small bundle placed on the saddle. The horse stood quietly, as if waiting for them, as if someone knew of their arrival.
"That is not a fisherman's horse," Dorik said, looking with concern. "That is a travel horse, with a saddle and saddlebags. Someone knows we are coming."
"Or wants us to think that." Louai prepared to disembark. "Do not change course. We will dock as planned."
The ship docked quietly at Cano's small pier. The place was almost empty, except for an old man sleeping on a wooden bench beside the fishing boats, and an orange cat watching them from atop a wooden barrel. The horse stood quietly, as if waiting for them. There was no one else in sight, no fisherman, no soldier, no one. The place was eerily quiet.
Louai stepped onto the dock and approached the horse. He felt the weight of the past four days in his body, the weight of the decisions he had made, the weight of what he was about to do. He knew this step was the last, and that everything he had done in the past days was preparation for this moment.
On the saddle, there was a small leather bag, sealed with gray wax he did not recognize. He opened the bag and found a single folded paper inside, written in a hand he did not know. The handwriting was elegant but unfamiliar, as if the writer was deliberately hiding their identity.
"The road to the capital is not safe. Take the western route, and avoid the main gate. Someone is waiting for you in the southern wing. Trust those who deserve it, and trust no one."
There was no signature. No name, no seal, nothing to reveal the writer's identity. Louai folded the paper and returned it to the bag, then looked at Dorik. He was considering two possibilities: either this was a message from an unknown ally warning him of a trap, or it was from Kasian himself, trying to guide him where he wanted. But there was a third possibility: that this message was from someone else, someone he had not accounted for.
"This is a warning," Louai said, "or a trap. Either way, I will take the horse and go to the capital. You, stay here with the ship. If I do not return within two days, return to the Archipelago and tell Lithan that the deal may end."
Dorik looked at Louai with his single eye, and in it was something he had never seen before. Not fear, but cautious respect. "You have come a long way, Prince. Do not lose it in the final meters."
"I will not lose it," Louai said, mounting the horse. "Because I know what I am doing. And that is the difference between me and Kasian."
He paused for a moment and looked at Dorik for the last time. "Thank you, Dorik. For everything. For the ship, for the map, for the advice. If I had not found you in that port, I would not be here now."
Dorik smiled a dry smile, his single eye gleaming faintly. "You did not do it alone, Prince. But you are the one who will reap what you sowed. Or pay for it. That is the difference between the one who sows and the one who harvests."
And without another word, Louai turned the horse toward the western road and began to climb away from the shore, leaving Dorik and the "Gray Seagull" behind him. He knew the four days were effectively over. He knew Kasian was waiting for him. And he knew Gilbertt might already be in the palace, telling his story.
But he also knew he had not come this far to lose at the end. He knew he possessed what Kasian did not: knowledge of what had truly happened, concrete evidence of House Valtor's betrayal, and a deep understanding of how power worked in this world. He knew Kasian might have the witness, but he had the truth.
The western road was long, but the horse was fast. And on the distant horizon, where the capital awaited him, the lights of the palace began to gleam like the eyes of a beast waiting for its prey. And Louai knew he was about to enter the lion's den, but he carried in his pocket what might turn the balance.
On the way, he thought about everything he had left behind. The sea, the ship, Dorik, the Archipelago, Lithan, the salt. He knew these things were part of a larger journey, a journey not yet over. But now he had to face what awaited him in the capital.
He knew Kasian would be there, waiting for him. He knew his mother would be there, lying in wait. He knew the Emperor would be there, watching everything. And he knew Gilbertt might be there, sitting in some corner, telling his story to whoever wanted to hear it.
But he also knew he was ready. Not because he was confident of victory, but because he knew failure was not an option. He had come a long way, faced many risks, paid heavy prices. He was not ready to lose everything at the last moment.
And as the horse approached the walls of the capital, Louai felt something he had not felt in years: hope. Not the naive hope that waits for miracles, but the hard hope that knows the road is long, yet worth walking