The ephemeral rays of the morning sun fell on the shores of a seaport, outlining the piles of ships and boats lined up in the distance.

The distant cries of seagulls echoed overhead, mixing in the cacophony of ongoing conversations, murmurs, whispers, loud laughs and the other mundane social exchanges that occurred in a medieval seaport.

Most of the men on the boats carried large nets. They were fishermen, Eithan observed.

Probably.

This place was always so rowdy and busy, especially during the morning hours as ships bringing in imported goods landed on the shores of the port, and people carrying goods to be exported moved to the large ships with their goods.

"Over here!" One person on a ship yelled as he was directing a group of men holding large sacks and walking toward his ship. "Drop it here!"

Eithan sighed, gazing at the waves of the sea as they crashed into the sand on the beach.

The young man did all he could to resist gazing at the large sea. But alas, he couldn’t resist his curiosity. And his stomach turned as he laid his eyes on the wide, vast sea.

The sea was enormous. And Eithan had this weird phobia of the sea.

Even when he traveled from Nuncapor to Levaria, he hated it. It messed with his gut.

’Well,’ Eithan smiled a cheerful smile, ’That’s enough standing around.’

Although he would love to stand around and watch the whole scene some more — anything to avoid climbing that ship — he had to move. The weight of the silver spear strapped to his back was nothing short of maddening. And he was dressed lightly. Just a pair of small black shorts and a white singlet.

So the presence of a spear on a man so casually dressed was odd. He could already feel the eyes of the passersby on him.

But before he moved, he slipped his hand into his pocket and brought out a crumpled piece of paper.

The paper was a letter. A letter from a friend who he was sure he wouldn’t see again for a very long time.

The letter arrived this morning, while he was strolling through the streets where Maxwell’s house was. A black, sleek delivery crow had brought it, dropping it on Maxwell’s doorstep.

This made Eithan chuckle.

That damn noble boy must’ve gotten the wrong address. Seriously. What the hell was he thinking, sending a letter to his own house? Did he really forget that Eithan lived in the mercenary accommodation?

Well, knowing Maxwell...

’Yes. He most likely forgot.’

He’d read the letter earlier. But he still felt like reading it once more.

"Move, move, move, move your arses!" A man yelled in the distance. But Eithan paid him no mind.

He focused on the letter in his hands.

[Eithan, I have arrived in Rindell, the capital city. Have you ever been here before? The city is so unlike Ludia. It’s less loud and rowdy, and more controlled. I personally like the ambience of the environment. And the pure mana here is rich, too. But I don’t think I’m going to open my bar here, though. But that’s something I’m going to discuss with her when I eventually meet her. I’ll soon find what I’ve been desperately looking for all this time. And I hope that you, too, Eithan, find yours as you head to Avalon.

One last thing, Eithan. Do not let revenge be the end of you. I’ll be really disappointed if I hear news that you passed away prematurely, you know. Till we meet again, my friend!

Yours Truly, 𝑴𝒂𝒙𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍.]

Reading the letter, Eithan’s auburn eyes turned glossy and wet, pupils dilating.

But he smiled. A bright, cheerful smile.

He wiped a tear, sliding the letter into his pocket.

"I will never forget you, my friend."

"Oi Eithan!" A man’s voice bellowed.

Eithan followed the direction of the voice, gazing at a rough man who stood on the main mast of a large ship, holding a bottle of alcohol with one hand. The man had a rough-looking face, and a wolfish grin was plastered on his lips.

"You coming or what?!"

Eithan’s warm smile morphed into a feral grin. He chuckled.

"Ya bet I am!"

In the next moment, Eithan crouched low. And, without wasting another time, he leaped, covering the distance between him and the ship.

He landed on the ship, and the large vehicle trembled on the waters.

The feral man, still standing at the highest point in the ship, looked down at Eithan with that same wild grin, sipping from his alcohol.

Eithan held his gaze, staring at him with a grin of his own.

The man stopped drinking and spoke:

"Go hide yourself down somewhere before the crew comes aboard. Make sure not to get caught, because if you do... Well, there’s no helping yer."

Eithan nodded.

"I know," the blond youth smiled, bangs fluttering along with the wind cruising the seaport, "Thank you, sincerely, Amyres."

The rough-looking man scoffed.

"Buckle up, pal," Amyres’ gaze turned away from Eithan, focusing on the skies, as birds flew in a flock, cruising the blue clouds smeared golden by the sun, "This is gonna be a long, long journey."

Eithan sighed. Two months.

Damn right it’d be.

***

The room was filled to the brim with people. Men, women, youths, oldies.

It was a packed party.

And, even though it was packed, every single figure here was dressed in fanciful outfits. The ones who overdressed had crests all over their clothes.

Men in suits and finely tailored trousers. Women in splendid dresses and high heels.

Those humorless laughs that were mostly to liven the mood and not wholeheartedly filled the air.

From the entrance of the grand hall, a man dressed in a black, fanciful suit held a large scroll, announcing the figures who walked into the ball. Most were couples, some were singles, and the majority were with their family.

In the grand hall, soft, classical music played. A quiet prelude to the incoming party.

Rows of white tables filled the hall. Drinks of all kinds were placed on these tables, and even some desserts.

Clearly, from the way the place was decorated and the walls painted, it was obvious the Silvester family had spent a lot of time, effort and money planning this High Ball.

It made Maxwell want to tear the place apart. But of course he didn’t.

Even still, as he stood at a corner, watching sly old foxes with fake smiles greet the crowd and act like they weren’t all political rivals in reality, his stomach churned.

Now he really asked himself, why the hell was he here?

The moment they entered the hall, Olive had disappeared to a corner where most young ladies her age were. It seemed even the shy blond lady was well-versed in the art of fake-socialization.

The worst part of all this was that he hadn’t even seen Rita in the sea of hundreds of nobles.

And the good part was that he hadn’t seen any of his old family members. The Belognias.

He had seen Rita’s so-called family, though. When they came out of a wide door, introduced as the hosts of this ball, Maxwell had to hold himself back from plunging every single being here into the depths of the largest ocean in Cryst.

Now he was tired of it all. He had stood here for more than twenty minutes, dodging every attempt of random strangers trying to engage him in a conversation with him.

He made his move, walking from where he stood, toward the open area at the far end of the room. An area he assumed was the balcony.

On his way there, he dropped the glass of wine he’d been swirling in his hand since forever on a white table.

In that balcony, he could feel Frilo’s presence strongly through their soul-link.

Ever since the spirit blasted off from the carriage on his way here, he’d lost track of it. Frilo’s presence was only faint.

And he knew that the spirit had gone looking for Rita.

So, he assumed that Frilo being on that balcony must have meant Rita was also there.

And sure enough, as he reached the open balcony which overlooked the front of the estate, he felt as if Frilo was right next to him.

And he also heard... voices.

"I said, leave me alone! I’m not going to dance with you!"

That voice belonged to a female. No, more than that. The voice was Rita’s.

Maxwell frowned.

It seemed she was in an argument with someone.

He paused, listening in on their conversation.

"Oh, but my lady, I’m a really good dancer, you know. And, don’t you have a bad reputation in high society? Think about how good you’ll appear in their eyes if you’re next to someone like me, hm?"

Maxwell also recognized that voice.

"Come on, I’ll even pay you to dance with me. How about that?"

"How about I pay you to punch your face? How about that?"

That was definitely Rita.

"You know, that’s no way for a lady as refined as yourself to speak. But that’s precisely why I’m so smitten with you! I find that attitude of yours to be strangely charming."

"I’m leavi–"

"Take one step away from here, and I’ll burn you from head to toe."

Maxwell froze.

And just as he froze, Frilo, with a panicked expression, flew straight toward Max, chirping out inaudible sounds.

Maxwell understood those sounds.

’So it’s him...’

Max took a step forward, expression placid and cool.

Rita paused. And she turned to gaze at the figure as she said:

"Franklin—"

’...Franklin—’

The mana in the atmosphere began to distort.

"—Are you threatening me?"

’—My eldest brother.’