On the night following the Imperial Council meeting, Prince Louai did not leave the capital aboard a majestic military fleet, nor did he take with him armored guards or royal entourages. Large fleets attract attention, and moving a naval division during a fragile peace is political suicide that triggers war before its time, let alone violating the Blood Budget law that prohibited any unfunded military movement.
Instead, Louai stood at the rear dock of the capital's small eastern port, where a medium-sized, ancient cargo ship with weathered edges, known in the port registries as the "Gray Seagull," had been anchored for days under the name of a fictitious third-class merchant, its apparent cargo designated to transport coarse sheep's wool and linen from the southern provinces...
The night was pitch black, and the light fog rising from the river covered the city, providing natural cover for an unwanted movement. Louai stood at the dock's edge, wearing a dark woolen cloak, indifferent to the damp cold seeping into his bones. Beside him stood his old scribe Gilbertt, carrying a small leather bag containing the most important documents and ledgers, along with some rare gold coins he had secretly accumulated over months.
"Is everything ready?" Louai asked in a calm voice, without turning to Gilbertt.
"Everything as you commanded, My Lord," Gilbertt replied, his voice trembling slightly from the cold or fear, or perhaps both. "The ship is ready, and the crew awaits you. But... are you certain of this step? If anyone were to learn..."
"No one will learn, Gilbertt," Louai interrupted with cold calm. "As long as you and I are careful, there will be no trace of us until we return. And if we do not return, there will be no trace needing explanation."
Louai boarded the ship via a narrow wooden plank, followed by Gilbertt with faltering steps. They were received on deck by an old man, lean in build, with only one eye, the other covered by a black leather patch. He wore a tattered naval coat, and his left leg was wooden, making a clicking sound with each step.
"Captain Dorik," the man said in a hoarse voice, looking at Louai with his single eye with cautious curiosity. "You are the prince who wishes to sail where no one goes?"
"I am Louai of Oswald," said the prince, fixing his eyes on the captain without backing down. "And you are the man I was told is the only one who knows the way through the fog and returns alive. Is that true?"
Dorik smiled a dry smile that did not reach his single eye. "You ask me about the way through the fog, Prince. That question has two answers: a short one and a long one. The short answer is: yes, I know the way. The long answer is: my knowledge does not mean I can guarantee your safe passage. The fog does not respect knowledge, Prince. It respects only experience... and luck."
"I do not rely on luck, Captain," Louai said coldly. "I rely on calculations and planning. And you, as I was told, know how to plan a voyage through these waters."
Dorik looked at Louai for a long moment, as if reading something in his face that others could not see, then turned his back and said: "My ship, my laws. If you agree to that, we sail. If you do not, you may disembark now and return to your warm ledger in the palace."
"Your laws?" Louai repeated, raising an eyebrow slightly.
"The laws that keep a man alive after sailing these waters, Prince. Some may seem like old sailors' superstitions to you, but I have not returned to this ship twenty times in a row by accident. Either you obey them, or you find another captain willing to die in your name."
After a short pause, Louai nodded. "Your laws, then. But remember: I too have my laws. If you do not get us to where we need to go on time, there will be no payment for you, and no ship to bring you back to a safe port afterward."
Dorik smiled broadly, showing his yellow teeth corroded by salt and time. "That is a good start, Prince. You negotiate like a man who knows the value of what he wants. Perhaps our voyage will not be as boring as I expected."
At midnight, the "Gray Seagull" raised anchor quietly and slipped out of the port without raising any flags or lighting any extra lamps. Darkness was their ally, and the river fog hid their movement from the eyes of the guards patrolling the port walls, who did not notice the small ship slowly moving away from the dock.
Louai stood on the deck, watching the coastline shrink behind them gradually until it became a thin line of distant light, then nothing at all. This was the first time he had moved this far from the capital, and the first time he felt that the land where he was born had become merely a memory behind his back.
"Do not look back too much, Prince," Dorik said from behind him, his voice rough but carrying a seriousness Louai had not heard in their previous conversation. "Once we move away from the coast, we become part of the sea. Looking back reminds you that you have something to lose. And here, in these waters, thinking about what you might lose makes you make mistakes in your decisions."
Louai turned toward the old captain and wanted to ask him about the meaning of these words, but he held back at the last moment. He knew that some lessons are not understood through questions, but through experience.
Morning of the First Day
As the first threads of light broke over the eastern horizon, Louai emerged from his small cabin to find Dorik standing at the helm, his single eye fixed on the horizon where the morning light was slowly seeping through.
"Favorable winds, Prince," Dorik said without shifting his gaze from the sea. "If they hold, we will cover good distance today."
The wind was cold and fresh, carrying the scent of salt and distant seaweed. Louai stood at the ship's edge, contemplating the deep blue waters stretching endlessly before them. He had never sailed this far from land before, and the feeling of detachment from everything he knew was both strange and unsettling.
He sat on a wooden crate near the mast and took out a collection of old maps he had secretly gathered over the past weeks. These maps were hand-drawn, some dating back decades, and others were copies of secret documents he had accessed thanks to his position as Treasury Overseer.
But the more he looked at these maps, the more he felt a vague unease. There were many areas in the Archipelago that were unclear or drawn in a vague manner, as if those who drew them did not want others to know exactly what was there.
"These maps are incomplete," Louai said to himself, running his fingers over one of the gray-shaded areas. "But they are better than having nothing. And we will have to learn as we go."
Gilbertt approached him, carrying a cup of hot tea made from dried sea herbs. "My Lord, have you found what you were looking for in those maps?"
"No," Louai admitted, taking the cup and warming his cold fingers. "But I found enough to know that what we don't know is far greater than what we do. And that, in itself, is why this journey is necessary."
Midday of the First Day
As midday approached, the wind began to ease slightly, and the sun became more visible despite the light clouds forming on the distant horizon. Louai was still studying the maps, but Dorik called him from his place at the helm.
"Prince, come and look."
Louai rose and approached the old captain. Dorik pointed with his whole hand toward the eastern horizon, where there was something unusual: a column of thin gray smoke rising from the water's surface miles away, then slowly disappearing as if it had never existed.
"What is that?" Louai asked.
"I don't know for certain," Dorik replied, his single eye narrowing in focus. "But in these waters, anything unusual is either a sign of danger, or a sign that we are approaching where we need to be. In either case, we will hold our current course and watch."
The midday passed without further incidents, and the ship continued sailing peacefully. Louai sat on the deck, contemplating the open sea, planning in his mind the steps ahead. He knew that everything he was doing now was merely a prelude, and that the real test would begin when they entered the Fog Belt.
Evening of the First Day
As the sun set, the atmosphere began to shift. The air was no longer as fresh as it had been in the morning, but had become more humid and heavy, as if carrying something invisible that pressed on the lungs. The crew noticed the change too; the three sailors who accompanied them exchanged worried glances and spoke in low voices in an old sea language Louai did not understand.
Louai stood at the ship's edge, looking at the water that had begun to change color gradually from deep blue to dark green, as if something on the bottom was affecting its hue.
"The water is changing," Louai said, pointing toward the surface.
"That means we are approaching," Dorik said, his voice carrying a new tone Louai had not heard before. Not fear, but cautious respect. "Within hours, we will see the Fog Belt. If you want to change your mind, this is the last moment."
Louai looked at the horizon. At first, he saw nothing but the familiar gray sea. But after moments, he began to distinguish a dark line in the distance—a line that was neither cloud nor land, but something in between. It was moving slowly, expanding and contracting as if breathing.
"This is the Fog Belt," Louai said, his voice betraying no hesitation. "I did not come here to turn back, Captain. Proceed."
Dorik looked at him for a long moment, then slowly turned the helm and steered the ship toward the dark line on the horizon. The silence on the deck was heavy, broken only by the creaking of wood and the roar of water beneath the hull. Everyone knew they were about to cross a threshold from which it would not be easy to turn back.
At that moment, Louai stood at the ship's bow, watching the fog growing larger on the horizon ahead. He knew that everything he had done so far, everything he had planned and calculated, was merely a prelude to what he would face inside. He knew the coming hours would test everything he possessed of intelligence, cunning, and patience.
And he did not know, standing there on the deck of the "Gray Seagull" as they approached the Fog Belt, that this voyage was merely the beginning of a series of trials that would redefine everything he knew about the world, and that the laws he would be forced to learn in the coming days would be harsher and more complex than any law he had known in the halls of the Imperial Council.