Grandrear, Grandrear Mansion
Connected to the back of Granvaloa, there was Grandrear.
And in its heart—or rather, almost the very back, near the sea—there stood the mansion of the Grandrear family.
Like the other great families of Granvaloa, they preferred to be close to the outer edges of their city-ships. This was so they would never forget the will of the founders, and so they could always head out to sea at a moment’s notice if necessary.
And in one room of the Grandrear mansion, there was a lone man, coughing as he raised himself from the bed to behold the sea outside the open window.
His cheeks were hollow, his limbs were awfully thin, and his skin had no youth left in it. He wasn’t even fifty years old, but the state of his body made it seem like he was in his seventies, if not older.
With the air of someone who had been fighting illness for a long time, he gazed at the water—in the direction of the chaotic South Sea—not saying a word.
His name was Burton Grandrear. Once the pirate fleet commander, he had left this position some time ago.
As he watched the sea, there was a knock on the door, followed by the sound of it opening.
“Sir, the sea wind is bad for you,” said the person...or rather, the entity that entered.
“Oh. Don’t worry about that, Olca. I doubt I have much life left to lose,” Burton replied with a bitter smile as he glanced at whoever had just entered.
“But sir...”
What had joined Burton in his room was a rather awkward-looking robot.
Looking something like a matryoshka doll with limbs attached, it had a design that some Masters might identify as “retro.”
The robot, Olca, had been picked up by the fleet a long time ago and had served it ever since.
“So, did you bring what I asked?”
“Yes,” Olca replied as he handed Burton a set of documents.
It was a report containing the details of something that had happened outside Granvaloa—the war between Altar and Dryfe.
At a glance, it seemed to have nothing to do with the maritime nation, but that simply wasn’t the case.
Especially not to the pirate fleet...and the Grandrears themselves.
“...Langley.”
Celestial Knight, Langley Grandrear. He was a man who’d left the fleet to become a knight of Altar, as well as Burton’s only little brother.
He’d participated in the war as a pillar of Altar’s forces, and he had fallen in battle.
The report Burton had been given contained a record of the battle and the cause of his death.
“I really did wrong by him,” Burton muttered as he read the description of his little brother’s last moments. “His biggest reason for leaving the country was that fateful meeting he had in Altar, but... I believe the second reason was me.”
Because of Burton’s sickly health, many believed he was not a fitting successor for the family. Langley must’ve noticed how people looked at his brother.
“Kind as he was, he must’ve left for Altar so as to remove himself from the line of succession.” The brothers had always gotten along very well, exchanging letters after the departure.
When one brother was blessed with children, the other had been so happy that they might have been his own. Likewise, when an accident had taken Burton’s son, Langley had grieved just as much.
But now, this kindhearted brother had died.
And he wasn’t the only one.
“It makes no sense. Langley and Jonathan were so energetic and strong, yet they both died before me...”
Though much younger than him, Jonathan was one of Burton’s closest friends, but he had recently fallen in battle as well.
Over the past few years, Burton had been subjected to many dangers that had claimed the lives of many of his friends and acquaintances. This included the previous military fleet commander, as well as the previous holder of The Ocean—Peddy’s predecessor.
They had all been far stronger than the sickly Burton, yet their lights had faded before his.
The fact that he had survived for so long despite the circumstances filled him with self-loathing—though he also knew that this wouldn’t last much longer.
While he had been sickly his entire life, his condition had recently taken a turn for the worse, forcing him to return the pirate fleet commander position and duties to his father.
Burton could feel that he scarcely had a few months left.
“Olca... I have a request.”
“Yes?”
“If you happen to meet Langley’s daughters... Could you look out for them? Even if they’re not Granvaloan?”
“May I ask why you are asking this?”
“Once I die, they won’t be able to stay away from the fleet.” That was a distinct possibility—once Burton died, his nieces would be the only people carrying the blood of the pirate fleet commander family, and they would be dragged into Granvaloa’s systems whether they wanted to be or not. Some would try to inherit the fleet by marrying them, while others would try to convince the girls themselves to take on the commander title or represent the pirate fleet in the Four Seas Journey.
“Many would surely do this out of kindness,” said Burton. “But kindness isn’t always the best medicine.”
Granvaloans weren’t much for internal conflict, generally tending toward cooperation instead. Mankind simply had to be this way in order to survive the harsh environment of these seas.
No deception, no dissension—most just helped each other live and thrive.
However, the shape of kindness varied greatly depending on the giver and the receiver. Someone could think they were doing something good, only for it to distort a person’s life beyond recognition.
Supporting these girls who had lost their father seemed noble on the surface, but it could be poison for the lives they wanted to lead.
“Langley is gone, but that is far from the only trial that awaits my nieces. I want to help them...but it doesn’t look like I can.”
There was no way Burton could help them in death, after all.
“If my father were around, there would be nothing to worry about, but he’s also...” Burton trailed off, but the rest was implied—elderly and growing weaker day by day.
Burton knew that he would die first, but he could tell that his father didn’t have long either.
“That’s why...I want you to do it in our place.” Burton had decided to put his nieces’ fates in the hands of someone he trusted. “When they’re in this country... Please protect them.” Rather than sending kindness that would reshape their lives, he only asked for their safety.
In response...
“...Very well.”
...Olca—the second strongest weapon in Granvaloa—simply nodded.
✦ ✦ ✦
The three fleets that were still in Granvaloa.
The women who would be the pillars of the next generation were keeping the country safe in whatever ways they could, while a man worried about the future was looking past the current struggle and laying the groundwork for something ahead.
However, the time when they would shake the world was still quite far away.
At this moment, the future was being swayed not by their rivalry, but the strife in the South Sea.
The only pillar of the next generation who was at this front line was the young commander of the adventure fleet...
...and she would soon encounter the heart of this terrible struggle.