The Chronicles of Van Deloney-Chapter 32: THE DESCENDANTS OF ISLORIA

Then all were frozen. Standing on Azalik's stunned form was Lindice-her face wild with adrenaline, hair-twin braids flying, eyes flickering from side to side like a spooked hawk. Her boot was pressed down firmly upon the pirate's torso.

"I heard a loud bang!" she exclaimed breathlessly, striking the pose of having been up to the eye-teeth in the battle readiness for– "Are we under attack?!"

Silence passed for one beat. Charlotte's eyes widened in concern. There was no sound from the parted lips of Vladimir. Kali gasped so loud it nearly shook the walls.

"CAPTAIN!" she screamed, rushing to him with a terrified and concerned face.

"What in the sunken hells—?!" Behind her, Saevion stood as well, saying nothing, just sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose as if it were a man in bad days who was expecting that something would go wrong eventually.

Azalik groaned weakly from the floor and let an arm flop aside like a rather defeated sailor. "I... I saw the stars, lads... and they kicked me in the teeth."

Finally, peace reigned. Azalik was now sprawled on one of the couches in the drawing-room, ice pressed hard against his cheek, swelling in the single-gloved hold. His coat hung loose and rumpled; a little pout lingered on his expression despite his efforts to look dashing.

Kali was next to him, arms crossed on her corseted chest, one leg thrown carelessly over the other. Long, sighing breath escaped her lips.

Neatly seated on the opposite couch was Charlotte, giving herself a bit of a break from grimacing. Lindice was standing at her position at her back-caught like a schoolgirl in the act of throwing chalk at a professor, rubbing sheepishly at the back of her neck.

"I apologize on Lindice's behalf" Charlotte said gently, looking back at Azalik, "She truly didn't know that you weren't a threat–it was only... her reaction."

Kali made a dismissive hand gesture, rolling her eyes. "Ah, no fuss, love. He's been through worse; besides, he always says he is the strongest man to sail the Dreadwaters." She shot her captain a glance, half annoyed, half amused. "A little kick to the face won't break him. Just his ego."

Azalik breathed out a pang of grief, mumbling, "I've been betrayed ... by both sky and land ..."

"Please refrain from whining," Saevionh sweetly dryly murmured before pouring himself tea.

Azalik pitched another exaggerated groan while tilting his head woefully onto the couch cushion. "I may be betrayed by both sky and land..." he cried, putting the bag of ice onto his bruised cheek like a tragic hero. "But at least the stars shine kindly upon me...".

Then, in a sudden healing burst of inappropriate energy for someone who had just been flattened, he sprang to one knee, directly before Charlotte.

Charlotte blinked.

The pirate captain, ever clinging to the ice bag with one hand, swept the other across his chest grandly as though rehearsed, his voice now low and honeyed lowering to be understood. "And yet, none shines so bright as the one before me now. Mademoiselle, I am struck not by boot, wind nor cannonball, but by your beauty."

Charlotte's face was turning somewhat pinkish as she straightened her spine in surprise. "O-Oh... well, um...," she stammered, her much-flustered hand rising to her chest. "I am flattered by your words, Captain. "

Behind her Lindice squinted even more suspiciously while Vladimir had held midway awaiting whether to fling a pillow at Azalik's direction or simply to faint because of secondhand embarrassment.

Saevionh didn't even look up from stirring his tea.

" Azalik," he said in a sigh, "if you do not get up from the floor at this instant, you are going to scuff this polish and I am going to have to redo the entire room."

Azalik paused midway-through his flirting and blinked once. "...Right. The floor."

He cleared his throat awkwardly, then stood with exaggerated dignity, brushing imaginary dust from his trousers. "Of course. Wouldn't want to offend the divine sanctity of your waxed tiles."

He returned to his seat with all the grace that a man with a bulbous cheek could muster, while Kali tried her very best to stifle a laugh and failing miserably let out a loud snort.

Azalik reclined, crossing one leg over the other while folding his well-built arms. His long, coal-black hair was pulled in a loose tie, although hints of ocean blue streaked its edges and ended in several loose braids with clinking brass beads. The corner of his mouth even seemed to tremble in a shy smile, albeit an aching one because of the ice on his cheeks.

"Well, it's proper to be said at this moment; the name's Azalik Isloria, Captain of The Léon Azuré," he said with a deep, sandpaper rough voice, speaking like a sea-voice trained off with the high pitch. "Great-great-grandson of the infamous Captain Isloria. The bastard who dared cross the Isle of Thalos lived to chart the Islorian Ridge."

Charlotte blinked. "You mean... it's not a navigational myth? The Islorian Ridge exists?"

Azalik gave a short laugh which drew some pain from the movement. "That's what cowards say when they drown halfway."

Kali admiringly rolled her eyes, leaning forward with her elbows resting on the table. Her mint-blue hair was tied high in a ponytail with disheveled hair framing her sun-darkened face. A red bandana wrapped around her forehead, gold hoop earrings jingled against her ears, and a necklace made of teeth swung just above the laces of her corset. A faint scar crossed the bridge of her nose like a badge of battle.

"And I am Kali Isloria, first mate of The Léon Azuré—and the prettier one between us, clearly," she said, her grin revealing perfect white teeth. "Velmordana knows our name, and not just for tales and blood. We map what others fear. We deal where others beg. And if someone needs smuggling, salvaging, or sailing through a storm touched by death—well. They call us."

Charlotte studied both of them, fingers tightening slightly. "Pirates, then."

Kali winked. "Call us what you like, love. But we keep our word. And when Saevionh calls, we come."

Azalik leaned forward now, wincing again. "And if we're helping you, lass, best know we don't drag dead weight. You got guts, Saevionh says. That so?"

Charlotte held his gaze. "More than guts. I have a reason."

A beat of silence passed that felt heavy with the weight of something unsaid. And then Kali leaned back, nodding with approval.

"Good," she said. "Then let's talk about your plan. The sea waits for no girl, no prince, and no ghost."

At this, Saevionh stepped into the room, rolling the parchment under one arm and holding two goblets.

"Perfect timing," he said smoothly. "Now that the introductions are out of the way—shall we begin?"

Azalik sat straight, careful not to aggravate the bruised part of his face—courtesy of Lindice's boot. "Right," he began, sounding like a man more accustomed to coastlines than conversation. "We sail from Port Maltheris at dawn—two days from now. Léon Azuré is stored, anchored, and registered under Saevionh's aliases."

"We're bypassing Port Montedoro," Saevionh continued, his expression inscrutable. "Too many eyes. Corsavenna is our point of disembarkation. From there, we move inland."

"Just at the edge of the old Ivalorian border," noted Kali. "A quiet little port town. Trade mostly, smuggling some. Hardly patrols. Perfect for mingling."

Azalik continued, "Crossing will take five to six days with the wind. We will follow the Islorian Ridge, passing the Isles of Thalos, and then the Scyrren Drift. We will drop anchor near Corsavenna's East Wharf in the bay."

"From there," Saevionh said, "it's a two-day ride to the El-Daumier Galleria, just beyond the woodland ruins east of the city, near the edge of the Islorian Ridge."

"Carriage from Corsavenna," Azalik nodded. "The path is too rough for anything lighter. You have to take rooms at The Hollow Grove—an inn I trust."

Kali knelt beside a worn trunk and drew out a map, laying it upon the tea table. Tapping along the route with a calloused finger, she said, "Here– Port Maltheris. Then north past the Drift. Anchor here," she said, tapping Corsavenna. "Then carriage through the Thornridge Hollow, up onto the Galleria estate."

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"It's a privately operated gallery," Saevionh said, gesturing to the emblem linked onto the parchment. "Old money. Selective entry. But the El-Daumier name still holds weight in aristocratic circles."

Charlotte's eyes traced the motion of the map, finally settling on the mark of the gallery. Her tone was steady. "We need to find whatever clues we can— both in the paintings, and within the gallery itself. If Alonzo de Calart's work really is there, it could connect directly to the case."

The dim light from the candle flickered while Saevionh leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning the gathered group with a slight, deliberate finality in the way that a knowing, intimate member of the group might, one who has something else to say. His fingers drummed lightly against the surface of the arm rest like little silenced death knocks in the quiet room.

"Thus consented to all this," Saevionh said in a cool and untroubled voice, though there was an edge to it, notifying that the meeting was nearing its end. "We will travel to the gallery with Azalik and Kali, investigate whatever lead we can find. But tonight, the talking will end here. We will continue in the morning, after breakfast. The night is best left for rest."

Vladimir raised an eyebrow but didn't argue, understanding the weight of the journey ahead. Charlotte, however, felt a twinge of frustration stir within her, her mind racing with the possibilities she had yet to explore in the case. But she knew Saevionh was right; they couldn't afford to push any further tonight.

And Charlotte nodded slightly with a care to how she rolled up the map. "Understood. We will reconvene in the morning."

Azalik's voice rumbled, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Aye, nothing like a hearty meal to fuel a ship's course." Behind him, Kali grinned knowingly.

"We'll make sure the rest of the night is quiet," Kali added with a playful wink, her tone shifting from business to the familiar warmth of a pirate's humor. "We'll find our bearings now. Rest while you can."

Saevionh have a quiet, approving nod, then rose to his feet.

"Then it's settled. Good night."