Chapter 133

Darkness quickly enveloped them, but Myuri pushed open a door in the corridor to reveal the room they used before departure to finalize their plan. The map was still open on the table. Myuri opened the shutters on the window, which brightened the room quite a bit. They set Amaretto down on one of the many crates stacked in the room. There might have been a battle going on above deck, but all they could hear down here was the sound of the waves. It was the perfect place to tell strange fairy tales. “And?” Myuri asked Amaretto. As she sobbed like a baby, Amaretto looked up at her with wet, pleading eyes. “Don’t let them get a hold of us! Cut off every grappling iron they throw at us!” Vadan’s voice came through the small, open window in the room. Outside, Col could see the hull of the slim enemy ship getting closer. It was apparently a standard tactic in naval battles to pull up alongside an opposing ship once caught up, use grappling hooks to pull it closer and keep it in place, then gain control by boarding with daggers in mouth. Col assumed the “daggers in mouth” part was an embellishment that only existed in Myuri’s imagination, but it seemed everything else was more or less accurate. But since the enemy ship was a small one built for speed, it also seemed to be at the mercy of the offshore waves. They may be able to escape anyway, without needing Ilenia to act. “So? Continue where you left off,” Myuri said once her gaze dropped back down from the ceiling. Amaretto did not look up. And yet she continued to speak, faltering, but without losing her composure. “I…found a story on the Moon-Hunting Bear in a place far to the south of Wobern. It was at an old abbey, in the diary of a chiliarch from the ancient imperial army. It remained in an incomplete state, but as I looked into it, I learned the chiliarch was making his way toward the north, and that he was trying to pass through the land that is now Wobern, before it was called Wobern.” It was clear looking at the map—if one drew a line straight north from the city that served as the center of the ancient empire, it would cross right over Wobern. Canaan had even said, in ancient times, a road had indeed been built along that line. “According to the diary, their march had been suddenly interrupted, and their operation ended in failure.” “And the Moon-Hunting Bear caused it?” Amaretto did not even nod—she simply closed her eyes. “The diary said their path had been blocked because of the star the Moon-Hunting Bear dropped. And that so many of his soldiers had gotten caught up in it. Rocks and stones of all sizes flooded the valleys like a torrent, and everything was swallowed up in the landslides. And then, he swore on the god of war, Bamas, that it was true.” She must have read it so many times she memorized it. Amaretto spoke clearly and without hesitation. It had come from a military log from an ancient imperial chiliarch. It was well known that people in antiquity were superstitious, but there was no proof that Amaretto was not the same. “And you’re saying you can find that fallen star?” “I can.” “How?” Myuri’s questions were like teeth in flesh. It sounded less like she doubted Amaretto, and more that she was impatient to hear the answer. “There were detailed star charts and hours in the log. The chiliarch wanted to know exactly which star fell, so he had his accompanying scholar chart the stars. You’d usually laugh. It’s so stupid. But—” “Were the charts accurate?” Col asked. For the first time, Amaretto nodded. Most old writings were, at best, either used as fuel for fires, their contents mostly illegible to the common person, or used as control for the thickness of newer books if they were lucky. But miracles did occasionally happen, and a small number were found by astronomers. And some could see the truth hidden in fairy tales. “There are people all over the world who’ve recorded the stars over long periods of times with unbelievable patience and tenacity. If you look at the fruits of the labor of all the people who’ve told the stars’ stories from ancient times through to the present, you can tell exactly where those charts were drawn. By looking at the stars, you can see who did what where, like an astrologer.” Amaretto bit her lip. “My mom was one of those people. Her divining the shooting stars wasn’t anything worth attacking her over, but, but…” Tears welled in her eyes again, but she firmly wiped them away. “I observed the stars visible from present-day Wobern from that tower in the city. And when I compare them to the stars in the diary, I can generally pin down the location, or at least the direction in which they were drawn. I should be able to prove the Moon-Hunting Bear existed.” Amaretto’s eyes were clearly different from how they were in the lighthouse. Words like desperate or urgent could not describe them—it was something else, something that could swallow a person whole. After suddenly appearing at the palace, Amaretto must have declared her intent to research the myth of the Moon-Hunting Bear, and desperately sold her tale. And Prince-Elector Duran was more of a resourceful general, one who was more suited to wielding the pen than the sword. Unluckily for Amaretto, his knowledge made him believe the myth of the Moon-Hunting Bear was connected to forecasting an eclipse. There were plenty of common legends that told of soldiers agitated by a sudden solar eclipse, leading them to suffer terrible losses in battles they were almost guaranteed to win. Prince-Elector Duran only believed the fairy tale of the Moon-Hunting Bear was one of those stories because it suited his purposes. “But…” Amaretto’s lips suddenly twisted weakly into a self-deprecating smile. “That’s why, even if you took me back to Wobern, all I’ll find are big boulders.” If they were to truly find a large boulder, they could likely prove the old stories were correct, or that the fairy tale was real. But the only type who would be happy about that were the eccentrics who loved fairy tales, and it would not lead to a resolution to this mess, which began with an eclipse forecast. People would continue to fight, searching for a prophesized date that did not exist. But this told Col what the origin of this entire debacle was. He thought Amaretto’s story was adequately believable. In which case, that would make it a good enough weapon in a chat with Prince-Elector Duran, at least. “Your story is convincing. I believe, with the help of our allies, we will be able to undo the presumptions Prince-Elector Duran has filled his head with.” The prince-elector had convinced himself of the eclipse forecast all because he had no other choice to begin with. And so if the Twilight Cardinal were to declare his all-out political support, then the prince-elector would no longer have to grasp at stars. If faith was not enough to resolve the whole thing, then they could get Eve’s help to alleviate the trade problems wrought by the alliance. And once the townsfolk’s lives were elevated, the prince-elector would have respect again. “But there is a problem.” And just as he said that, Myuri shot to her feet. Beyond the little window, the enemy ship was approaching rapidly. “Grab on!” There came a loud impact, one that drowned out Myuri’s shouting. The cargo stacked in the room shuddered, crates collapsed, things fell from the shelves on the wall. But the enemy ship quickly retreated once again. It seemed as though they had not been purposefully aiming to ram them, but were at the mercy of the waves. Yet Col could tell they were not giving up by the way the oars continued to strike the water. They were trying to get Amaretto back, no matter what. Sending a small ship like this built for speed out to sea on a night like this was a terribly dangerous gamble. And Amaretto, too, was another who had made a dangerous gamble. “Miss Amaretto, did you promise the Ruvik Alliance that you could predict the eclipse?” “……” Amaretto nodded wordlessly. She had no choice but to get the alliance’s help in order to escape Prince-Elector Duran once his assumptions got the better of him. The girl before Col no longer had that carefree air around her that she did in the lighthouse, or that defiant will. All that was left was a girl whose pursed lips quivered; she was lost and out of options. No—that was perhaps the face of a powerless girl from a remote village unable to help her astrologer mother when she was strung up as a heretic. Perhaps the reason Amaretto was so adept at deceiving others was because she had long been deceiving herself, so now she never had to look at her past. With the rocking of the boat, she tumbled from the crate on which she sat and crumpled to the floor. How terribly weak she looked in that moment—it reminded Col of how Myuri said it was a knight’s role to save the princess trapped in a tower. The Twilight Cardinal was no knight, but the reason he wished to be a priest in the first place was to help lost lambs with nowhere to go. And before him was a girl who had truly lost her way in her search for the star the Moon-Hunting Bear hunted. “Please…” Amaretto looked up to Col and said, “Help me.” Col reached out to Amaretto and slowly pulled her into an embrace. To show her, without words, she had allies. This girl had been unable to help her mother yet had been tracing the fairy tale of the Moon-Hunting Bear in her memory. She likely never had time to sit and complain—she needed the strength to tell whatever lie she needed to tell in order to survive. Col took a deep breath. The meaning behind his title, which was much too big for his shoulders, was the dawn that brought light to the people. “Of course.” He patted her back, perhaps a bit too roughly, and hugged her tight, like rope binding cargo together. But the reason he soon grasped her shoulders and pulled back was because reality came at him fast. “I am confident I can persuade the prince-elector. However, convincing the Ruvik Alliance there is no predicted eclipse will be different.” And it was not only because Amaretto promised them there was. If the Ruvik Alliance did have an accomplice in Prince-Elector Duran’s court, then it would not take them very long to realize it was the Twilight Cardinal who took Amaretto from the island. That fact would only tell them Amaretto did indeed hold that much value, and it would bring about an even bigger problem. “It was my fault the Ruvik Alliance’s luxury goods trade was completely spoiled, and they are furious with me. They even paid con artists in a town called Ohlburg in order to drag down my name.” Amaretto stared at him in surprise, but quickly turned her attention out the window—she could sense the wrath of the Ruvik Alliance from the way their boat doggedly gave chase, crashing through the tall waves. “So if the Twilight Cardinal takes you back,” Col began, “they would not believe me if I were to tell them there is no need to fight since there was never an eclipse prediction to begin with. What we need to persuade the alliance will be completely different from what we need for the prince-elector.” The boat rolled down, then lifted again. “If we fail to persuade them, then they will likely take an army to Wobern, even if we manage to shake them on these seas. “I need to prevent that from happening,” Col said firmly. Amaretto drew her lips into a thin line and dipped her head in pain. This girl had nothing to her name, not even a real date for a real eclipse she had promised. She did not even have trust in the words she spoke. All she had was knowledge of the stars. “But why can’t we just let them fight anyway?” It was Myuri who spoke, indifferent. “Those mountains are the best place for defense, after all.” It cannot be that simple, is what Col wanted to say. But for a moment, he questioned himself—Is it? No, it was not. “Do you think the prince-elector can put together an army?” Col asked. “Probably not, if this were about anything else. But the mountain people should be fed up with the sea dwellers by now,” Myuri guessed. “I think they’d be happy to take up the sword against the merchants in Ahberg.” Col could easily picture this. In that case, was it instead better to cast things in strict black and white during a war? He thought about it for a second, but then quickly picked out a problem. “That would make it a siege battle. You like war stories, don’t you? You should know how difficult siege battles can be.” Being always by Myuri’s side and her love for war epics and adventure tales had earned him a bit of knowledge on the matter. Myuri made a face as though a secret of hers had gotten out, and glared at Col. “So then what are we supposed to do?” The way she pouted at him told him she had spoken with a nonchalance to ease his conscience. In reality, perhaps that was the case. Even if they were to take Amaretto to Wobern, there were doubtlessly workers for the alliance in the city, and the situation would quickly make its way to the alliance. They might start a war in their anger, and even if they did not, they could deny trade to Wobern, which would essentially stop all distribution of goods to the area. Their one saving grace was it was not winter yet. Even so, the city would quickly run out of food and famine would spread. Would the people still come together and choose to fight the Ahberg branch of the Ruvik Alliance when it meant enduring such hardship? They would still have to prepare themselves for the tragedy that naturally accompanied siege warfare, even if they were up against an opponent who they bore many grudges against. If anything, it was a lot more likely they would tear Prince-Elector Duran from the throne, who was the source of all of their problems, and hand over everyone involved, Amaretto included, to the Ruvik Alliance. Because none of this mess would have ever come about if the prince-elector had never become obsessed with the idea of an eclipse prophecy. “This might be kind of sad for you, Brother,” Myuri said coolly as Col desperately searched for the start of a solution. “But if you could really persuade everyone with words alone, then you’d be able to stop that ship right now.” Myuri’s legs were spread in a wide stance to withstand the violent rolling and dipping of the room. It was as though she was showing him her feet were firmly on the ground. “I…” He could voice all the correct arguments and his apprehensions in the world, but that would still not change anything. Prince-Elector Duran began dreaming after listening to Amaretto, and Amaretto had put the Ruvik Alliance into a nightmare in order to protect herself. In order to resolve this, Col needed to wake everyone. For that, he had to find a large horn he could sound. “But I guess we’ll worry about that after we get through this alive!” Myuri said. The enemy ship managed to find purchase in the waves and closed in quickly, then rammed into their ship. What was different from last time was once the hull made contact, the ship did not drift away. The terrible sound of creaking wood rattled through the walls. It was almost like insects biting into the wood and tearing holes into it. It was likely the grappling hooks tearing into Vadan’s ship. “Brother.” Myuri’s tone was cold, and that told Col they had no time left to spare. Even with Ilenia on their side, they would have to fight back once the enemy boarded them. The mice crew alone would not be enough, and there was no telling if the ship itself would be able to survive if Ilenia exercised her full strength in her sheep form. The way Myuri was looking at him was her way of asking permission to fight as a wolf. What vexed Col the most was his own shame, that in the end he had to rely on nonhuman power, and because he wished he could swear at a god that would not come to help them, even if he prayed. But they were running out of options, and they were running out of time. If they wanted to put out the fire, they needed to do so before it spread. They could answer the question of how they would handle Wobern and the alliance once they managed to get through this moment. “Do not be too reckless,” he said. Myuri took a deep breath and huffed it out. Amaretto stared blankly at them, not quite absorbing the situation, as Myuri turned to leave the room. But she suddenly stopped in her tracks.” “Oh, right, ‘reckless’ reminds me.” “What is it?” “If that fortune-teller finds the star the Moon-Hunting Bear hunted, would that basically mean we’ve won this war?” Her ideas and questions were sudden, as they always were—everything about this rambunctious girl was. And what gave Col the terrible feeling in his gut was the delight on her face. “All we have to do is pull out that star and roll it down the valleys. It doesn’t matter what kind of army they send, then, because it’ll flatten them all!” When they stood at the peak of the mountains after crossing the harsh mountain paths from Estatt, the sight before them had seemed almost artificial. The perfectly bowl-shaped basin, surrounded by mountains, made one believe there was no other piece of geography in the world as easy to understand as this—and between the mountains ran the valleys, like paths. The geography had likely been carved over many moons and many years by the snowmelt, and it certainly seemed that way, depending on the perspective. It was perfect for rolling a large boulder down into the sea. “You never change, do you…?” Myuri took that as a compliment and cheerfully exited the room. He was sure she had said something silly to ease his nerves. It was not long afterward they heard the sound of clashing blades. The sound frightened Amaretto and she curled into herself, wrapping her arms over her head. Perhaps she recalled the villagers who had attacked her astrologer mother. Humans were powerless, and that was a solemn fact. Not even kings were invincible, and they, too, could be possessed by groundless fantasies like Prince-Elector Duran. The Twilight Cardinal was no different. Even if the name itself had power, it was still nothing but an illusion that was held up by a great number of people. But if there was one thing Col had learned on his journey thus far, it was that nothing would get better if all he did was lament his powerlessness. That even if the mud at his feet was terribly deep and the dawn was a distant dream, he could not stop walking. Because the only way to reach his goal was to keep moving forward. “Miss Amaretto.” Col placed his hand on Amaretto’s shoulder. From her position, curled up as if she was taking a penance, she glanced up at him, perplexed. “How long do you think it will take to find the Moon-Hunting Bear’s star?” It was better to talk of things she might be able to accomplish instead of simply allowing oneself to be overwhelmed with powerlessness. “……” Amaretto squinted at him, as though looking at something bright; she then wiped her face with her sleeve and replied, “The journal said…they marched…after winter ended, around this time. And…I’ve mostly finished observing the stars over modern Wobern.” Amaretto slowly sat up straighter, like more and more water slowly pushing a waterwheel into motion. “I know the general direction it’s in. All I had to do was comb the area.” In the human world, very few knew the tale of the Moon-Hunting Bear anymore. The nonhumans who were alive during the time kept quiet because they knew of the calamity it brought. A fairy tale in a class all on its own, buried beneath the layers of history, was about to be lit once again under the light of the stars. “Do you think…we’d be able to do what Myuri suggested?” Col asked. Amaretto’s eyes went wide, and she then gave a tired smile. “The philosophers of the past debated constantly over how big the moon was. If one were to hang up a round shield and then keep stepping back, it would grow smaller and smaller—so then how high did the sky go? That sort of thing.” The sun, the moon, and all the stars hung in the sky. “The log described it as a massive, towering stone. They were chased away by a terrible tremble of the earth that knocked them off their feet, and a never-ending flow of boulders and pebbles. I think that whole area’s been inhospitable to people since then. So…if there was a star, then it would be realistic to kick it south.” As she spoke, Col started to think this fantastic tale was starting to sound rather realistic—Amaretto must have thought the same. It was thanks to Myuri’s silly suggestion that a small smile finally returned to the hurt girl. The Saint of the Sun was said to bring smiles to the people—Col could see the saint’s smug smile in his mind’s eye. “Aren’t you—isn’t the Twilight Cardinal fighting against the Church? You can just roll the Moon-Hunting Bear’s star to the south. Like she said, once you get the rock rolling, it’ll go back up the road and reach the Holy See in no time.” The city that once served as the center of the ancient empire was still the present-day location of the Holy See. The old roads no longer existed, of course, and the Holy See was far away. But picturing the sight alone was fun indeed. Even back in Nyohhira, the children would make large snowballs, push them down the hills, and cackle with delight. Ilenia could do it, he thought. Her physical strength was enough to pull out any boulder from any depths, was it not? And then he could see a hole opening up in the mountains, like a clogged canal being cleaned up. “If we were to remove the stone, then we would be able to open up the ancient road leading south. Even if the Ruvik Alliance were to attack from the west and block off the roads, we could still leave from the southern road. And if we did that—” He knew it was not just his own imagination, because Amaretto was looking at him with the exact same expression. “Then…we could get through to the south?” Her murmur caused the images in his memory to flash through his mind. Wobern. Ahberg. The steep paths from Estatt. The conversation they had with Eve before departing. “Wait—wait a moment.” If all these ifs slotted together nicely, then what sat before him was an unbelievable possibility. He looked around the room and found the map they had used in their strategy meeting. The rocking of the boat had pushed the desk into a corner of the room; he pulled it back out and unfurled the rolled map. The scope of the maps sailors used was rather vast. It would take him weeks if he were to travel from one end of the map to the other. And those roads were not flat—at times, he would have to take detours around mountains, and he would have to take long detours around certain parts of land even if he were on a ship, too. But that was exactly why fledgling merchants crowded those roads from Estatt to Wobern. Was this star the Moon-Hunting Bear hunted, in a way, its own star of hope? Col dropped a finger to the map and followed the path. It was a wild dream, one he could only make with his feet off the ground, one that assumed a fairy tale was real. But was he not a priest-hopeful who spoke nothing of his ideas, just in the way Myuri often teased him for? And so of course… “Let us speak of ideals so we may lead the people.” The Twilight Cardinal’s slender arms could scarcely move a small stone. But if he were to take quill in hand, so many people would want to read what he had written. If a significant number of people were dreaming because of the eclipse forecast, then simply waking them up from their dream was not the way to solve this. Because he would not mind showing them a new dream. “Miss Amaretto.” “Hmm…?” She looked at him curiously. “Please draw on the map where the star may have fallen. And then, would you happen to know of any specialty products from the south?” “What?” Amaretto’s eyes, widened in surprise, were like beautifully full moons. “Hey, they’re coming from over there! Cut their lines! Do not let them on board!” The deck had become a battlefield. Someone must have been shooting flaming arrows, because small blazes burned in scattered spots across the deck. Men clung to the port side of the ship. Vadan’s crew cut down the grappling hooks with their swords and forced back the enemy with long sticks as they boldly tried to board the ship. Vadan was barking commands even as he swung his sword around. The mice were also out in full force, bringing over extra tools and buckets full of water. Ilenia and Myuri remained in their human forms because they were helping put out the fires, it seemed. They were soaked from head to toe, putting out one fire that had found its way onto the mooring rope. “Myuri!” “Hmm? Wh—Brother?!” Myuri, after handing over an empty bucket back to a mouse, looked at Col and gawked. The mice, after taking the bucket from her, got information and held the bucket on their backs and deftly carried it away. If someone who did not know their true identities saw this, they would likely think the bucket was sliding across the floor on its own. “Brother, it’s too dangerous. Go back below—wait, what do you have there?” “I want to go on their ship. Do you think it’s possible with you escorting me?” Col ignored her question and asked his own. Myuri’s eyes flicked up and down, like a cat watching a toy—that was because his lack of strength meant he could scarcely keep a hold on the oddly heavy piece of wood; he had adjusted it to rest on his shoulder. “Oof, there we go…Well? Can I ask you to escort me?” he asked again. It was only after a long pause, long enough for a droplet of water to drip from her wet bangs, that Myuri finally snapped out of her daze. “O-of course, sure! But…” She looked at him doubtfully; she had no idea what he wanted. “But, Brother…What are planning on doing with that?” What do you plan on accomplishing with that? He heard his own voice with hers because he had cautioned her plenty of times with that exact same phrase countless times when she was up to no good. Every time he did so, the rambunctious girl reacted in all sorts of ways—she would try to act innocent, try to get her way with tears, or for some reason get angry with him instead. Col reacted by offering her a proud smile. “You’re not…,” Myuri began. “But I am,” he replied. “Did you not tell me to stop that ship with words, if everything could truly be solved by talking?” Myuri was surprised, bewildered, and at last, tears welled in her eyes—what he held over his shoulders was the crest of the Church, cobbled together with whatever wood was available. “Brother, that’s—” She must have thought it was done out of spite. Or out of desperation. Or that he was panicking because he was finally out of options. But of course, it was none of those things. “Should I ask Miss Ilenia to escort me instead?” The fur of Myuri’s ears and tail stood on end in surprise. “I-I’ll do it! But—” “I appreciate it. Think of this as a white flag. Either way, I would like them to lay down their arms.” The crest over his shoulders swayed, and in turn, Myuri’s gaze flicked up and down. “Come now, hurry up and be a wolf.” “O-okay…” He saw how she was still perplexed and wondered if his current attitude was making him unlike the brother she was used to being around, because he was typically much too lenient and soft. If he were to keep his dignity both as a brother and as the Twilight Cardinal, then perhaps he should always act this bullish. While he waited for Myuri to hurriedly get ready as those thoughts idly rolled through his mind, his eyes met Ilenia’s—she had thrown one of the buckets over portside, into the sea, then planted her foot on the side of the ship as she gallantly pulled the pail of water back up. Ilenia, who was listening without really intending to, smiled at him as she doused a cloth meant for smothering fires in water. “Brother.” Col turned around to see Myuri in her wolf form. She was two times larger than a regular wolf, and she could easily knock him over if she were to play with him. But when her ears drooped in such obvious sadness, she looked oddly cute. Col gave her a rough pat on the head and turned to look at the enemy ship. “Clear the area and make space for me to jump aboard. I’ve asked Miss Amaretto to take care of a little job for me below deck, so she will not be coming up for a while. Be decisive in your actions.” Myuri looked in the direction he pointed and then shuddered, as though drying her damp fur. It seemed she was finally getting some enthusiasm back now that she was being asked to do what she loved—playing rough. “Just don’t fall in the water when you jump over, okay?” Her little spiteful remark was her way of biting back at the fact he took initiative from her. “I know you would save me if that were to happen, so I have nothing to worry about.” “……” Myuri turned a dour look to him, then rubbed her face on him with enough force to snap him in half. “Brother, you dummy!” howled the wolf, and she became a gust of wind. “A—a wolf…?” When wolf-Myuri gracefully landed onto the deck of the enemy ship, those on the other side predictably looked at her in confusion, like they were dreaming. Why is there a wolf at sea? No, is that really a wolf? Once everyone froze in shock, Myuri head-butted a poor man who just happened to be nearby. Her teeth then clamped down onto the scruff of his neck and she tossed him into the crowd. Once she did, all hell broke loose. Some fought back gallantly in a manner that earned them the right to be called brave sailors. But Myuri easily snapped spears with her paws, and her thick fur caused arrows to harmlessly bounce off her body. The enemy sailors were quickly seized by fear—some escaped below deck, some scurried up the yard like squirrels, and some overturned the boxes full of arrows to hide under. But there were not many places to run on a ship, and there were even fewer places to hide. No one, of course, took the option of jumping into the sea. The only one who would dare jump into the open seas at night was a reckless young girl. Ultimately, most of them huddled together like sheep, their weapons still in hand, slowly inching backward, covering one another as they did. Whenever Myuri stepped forward with a growl, they all matched her movements with a step back, toward the sea. As this happened, Myuri’s tail swished to and fro. Once he received the signal, Col stood at the edge of Vadan’s ship, makeshift Church crest still on his shoulder. “There’s no need to worry—that wolf will not attack unprovoked,” he said, then leaped over the side of the ship and landed on the deck of the enemy’s. The ship rocked over the waves, and he staggered a bit, but he did not drop the crest on his shoulder. So he gave himself a middling passing mark. “My name is Tote Col.” He looked around him with a faint scowl and continued. “Some call me the Twilight Cardinal.” The crowd stirred, and the flames of hostility burst to life in their eyes. That was likely because this situation was much more believable for them as opposed to a wolf that appeared from the blue. But when Myuri lowered her head and growled again, they all shrunk like pups. “In the name of God, I request a cessation of hostilities.” He then lifted the makeshift crest from his shoulders and held it high in the air. He could sense doubt from Myuri’s tail—she was not sure such a thing would have much effect. But they were at sea, the one place that made sure people were painfully aware of how powerless they were. The reason sailors were so superstitious was because it was a terrible truth they had to learn in the face of the merciless waves. “Where is your captain?” Col’s voice was surprisingly loud and clear among the silent sailors. Every single one of them looked like cats who had been doused with water as they fought.