Jasi approached Husarna’s corpse, which was still somewhat warm. She pried the Bronzehand off - it was never a mechanical hand, not in the traditional prosthetic implant sense. It symbolized the title it bestowed on its holder: Grand Prince of Oceran. 

“I believe,” Jasi said in her throaty, raspy, voice, “that this, noble sir, belongs to you.” 

A wolfish smile crossed Eon’s face. Which, since his humanoid face was…well, humanoid, it came out looking more like a grimace than an expression of martial pride. 

“Take it, Francisco, you should bear it. It chose you.” 

However, Cisco was not so eager to accept. 

“I am honored, Your Majesty,” he said, flicking his eyes towards the Queen of the Sirens, “but I do not deserve this accolade. ‘Twas not I who slew Husarna. It was your darling daughter, Nadine. Her boldness has brought an end to his scourge.” 

“Indeed,” Nadine said, making eye contact with him. Then she revealed another power she had concealed from him until then. She shapeshifted. Her features, frame, and body morphed until she gained the appearance of Matthias Gamron. Ordinarily, Cisco would have recoiled in shock, but at this point, he was far too jaded to be surprised by such a rapid transformation. 

“No, seriously, Cisco,” Nadine said in her altered voice, identical to the actual man, “it’s yours. After all, you did despise your father, and you hated what the Bronzehand had come to symbolize. Reclaim it, and restore its true purpose! Would I lie to you?” Nadine, still bearing the transfiguration, leaned in to kiss him. Cisco did not hesitate to kiss back. He knew that underneath the magic was yet another beautiful woman. But, despite how impressed (and a little aroused) he was by her ferocity and fearlessness, it wasn’t her that he had feelings for, in the end. As the kiss ended, Nadine resumed her true self, giving Cisco one last kiss in her real body. Cisco accepted the proffered gauntlet. 

“Well, then!” Nadine exclaimed, “It falls to you, our new Grand Prince, to decide the fate of these bastards who have violated our home!” 

“Throw them into the sea!” Cisco yelled. “Let them be chum for the sharks!” 

“Aye!” Jasi interjected, “So say we all!” 

“So say we all!” The Sirens chanted from behind their monarch. 

Almost as if on cue, the crew of the Mangrove arrived. They had finally caught up. As a group, they leapt from the prow of the ship even before it had come to a halt. The gates of the city really were on the water, conveniently so. 

“Cisco!” Marinelle shouted, “we’re so happy to see you!” she threw herself into his arms, and he couldn’t resist swinging her around so that her legs left the ground. When he set her down, he kissed her on the forehead. 

“Thanks for coming to find me, love,” he whispered. She blushed. It wasn’t often that the Oracle would receive a simple kiss from a dashing, roguish pirate scoundrel such as him. 

Everyone else gathered around them, exchanging hugs and slaps on the back. 

Then the mood changed, as Marinelle went into another trance-like state, and collapsed in a fit of seizures. Her eyes turned a blazing azure, instead of their usual softness.

“While we were busy,” she said, her voice unnaturally sibilant, “more chaos came to Anghvir.” 

“What do you mean?”  It was Allegra’s turn to speak. Despite her current state, Marinelle turned her entranced gaze upon her. 

“It means, o princess, that a small force of soldiers from the Cobalt Isles have come ashore. They have successfully evaded the southern fleet, and have seized more Relics before we could uncover them. They are getting away.” 

“Well, fuck them!” Matthias boomed, “we will track them down, and take the Relics back by force if we have to. We need them for our war, they’re not toys to be callously stolen away!”

“That is not all I see,” Mari continued, “more of Lusoff’s minions have breached the Silverblades. Since the natural blockade they provided is no longer effective, the army has mobilized to fight them. They cannot help us now.”

“So what does that mean for us, exactly?” Javier shuddered. He wasn’t enamored of the idea that they were about to plunge headlong into more danger. Peril never suited him, anyway. 

“It’s simple,” Kamuy said, “we must split up. Only by going in different directions may we arrive at the same goal, success or not.”

“Yes,” Xanathak agreed, “and I think I know how we can divide ourselves to each task. “Matthias, Kamuy, and I will go east. We will pursue the Islanders and ascertain the situation with Lusoff’s minions.

“What becomes of the rest of us?” Robidas asked. 

Before she could form a coherent answer, Marinelle swayed on the spot, momentarily losing her balance. Cisco and Allegra caught her and helped her regain her footing. 

“There’s not much else we can do, for other provinces are under siege. Mar Dunra and Ezratowne are being attacked. We must hurry to Harmony Springs!”

“And what can I do, lass?” Cisco asked. “ I don’t think I’m fit for more action.”

Jasi gave a raspy laugh that sounded, for a moment, like she was choking on her breath.

“No, my boy, you must remain. For you must heal. And also, you are obligated to learn more about your new duty to us. One way to fulfill your service is by marrying my daughter.” Nadine objected to this idea more vehemently than Cisco did. 

“Mother, no!” 

“You dare argue with me, daughter?”

Cisco turned to look at her, his feelings hurt. 

“And, what of it, lassie? I may be in love with my best friend in the world, but that does not mean I would shrink away from wedding you.” 

Nadine replied without hesitation. 

“I demand to be sent on this quest! I am no swooning damsel, as should be fairly obvious by now!” 

This was a lot to take in for the rest of the crew. But Matthias was the first to recover. “Cisco, it’s taken me too long to come to grips with this. I am in love with you too.”

“Then kiss him already!” Allegra burst out. “Don’t keep us waiting!” 

So her foster brother did just that. And this time, there was no shapeshifting illusion. 

Robidas

Robidas knew how desperately Marinelle wished to return home. Even from their great distance away, the vaunted Oracle of Palomo could sense something had gone horribly wrong. The world was full of chaos and carnage and bloodshed and torment, but there was also hope and wonder and love and resilience. Sadly, the real question at hand was which force of reality (and human nature) would prevail in such a pivotal moment. Even so, he wasn’t too keen on going home, himself. As the elder son of the Pathfinder, it was his sworn duty to serve the elves’ equivalent to a king in whatever way he could. It all had to do with the Stormchaser’s Oath…but it was one thing to faithfully serve your liege, and another thing entirely to plunge on into certain death just because it was expected of you. 

In some ways, that made Robidas envy Marinelle. She was honored, beloved, and even venerated by the people of her homeland. The chains of honor had bound him to walk on another path, one that faced virtually the opposite direction, so to speak. After all, doves were symbols of tranquility, and storms, well, storms were not. They represented turmoil. 

So, as their journey took them ever closer to Thornwood, he knew it wouldn’t be much longer until he saw his father again, for the first time since he had been dispatched to the human capital. Life looked different at the other end of the Longpath, the enormous highway connecting Thornwood to the Anghviri. 

The coastal climate of where the Sirens dwelt gave way to rolling hills, deep valleys, and rushing rivers. While it wasn’t fair to say that Thornwood was seated within a badlands-style biome, it was considerably drier than other regions around the continent. After all, there was plenty of wood, water, and fertile soil to go around. 

The thought of home, and their father, made Robidas fix his gaze upon his little brother. Phirias had grown up in his shadow, but now, both of them were proud champions of their people, dedicated to protecting the vulnerable and punishing their enemies. It wasn’t a far cry from the same vow of valor that the human knights made upon earning their spurs.

At long last, they reached the Hall of Advisors, located at the top of the Plaza of Sunlight. The Hall of Advisors is where the Conclave sat, and it was also the seat of the Sunflower Throne, upon which was installed the Lord of All Ways. A tall, austere, and sternly regal figure stood on the front steps of the Hall, as though he had known in advance that his son was among the travelers coming to his realm. Clustered around him in a sturdy circle was yet another cadre of soldiers belonging to the Solar Guard. Various courtiers of the Conclave, mainly the representatives of the other Elven Clans who did not hold that exalted title, surrounded them in an even wider formation. 

“My sons are home,” Tyrisus thundered. “Thanks be to the Stargazer! Zebulon has seen fit to bring them both back into our midst. And he brings with him outlanders. But these outlanders are no strangers to us in the Hall of Advisors. The Conclave recognizes you, Princess Allegra of the Royal House of Gamron. And you, O Honored Marinelle, Oracle of the Noble House of Palomo. And who is this?” Tyrisus’s granite-flecked eyes rounded onto the final member of their little adventuring party. 

“Father,” Robidas said, “our wayward friend is Javier Lerad, an Anghviri bard of limited renown. He is clumsy, but a welcome addition to our fellowship.”

“Indeed?” Tyrisus’s eyebrows curved together for a moment, as if they too were in disbelief that the hapless bard could be anything other than a burdensome nuisance. “Well, if you vouch for him, then we shall hold him in equal esteem. Come now, for the Clan of Many Waters will be glad to see you and your companions. Take some food, and rest. Recuperate your strengths. Our scouts have reported your impressive victory over that treacherous sea dog, Husarna. But more adversaries await, as I am sure you are abundantly aware of by now.”

“Yes,” Robidas said through gritted teeth. His father’s tendency to be grandiloquent always irked him. “For that same reason, we cannot stay here too long.”

“You would deign to call your homecoming a mere tarry?” Tyrisus sounded, for a millisecond, somewhat offended. “But, aye, we find ourselves in agreement. The Red Harbinger hangs in the sky like an omen of doom. Comets are rarely a good sign of what is to come. If only we could shoot it down! But alas, to attack such a wound would be a waste of arrows.”

“Considering where we’re going,” Allegra interjected, without a trace of deference to the pompous old elf, “We may need as many arrows as can be mustered.”

“And so it goes, my dear Princess. We shall pledge the entirety of our martial strength if need be. Lusoff always finds a way to escape the cold embrace of death. The last great war was supposed to be the end of him. But, clearly, his dark masters have granted him the boon of survival. That being the case, we shall make them regret their decision!”

Robidas if his father would ever run out of breath. But it was almost as likely as the sun taking a nap. And, all things considered, Rob would probably rue the day if he lived long enough to follow in his bombastic father’s resounding footsteps as the next Pathfinder.   

Though they dined in the splendid Great Hall, Robidas wished for the meal to be over as quickly as possible. The feast wasn’t the problem; the problem was him. He was wound up tighter than the string mechanisms within a grand piano. The other Clans of the Hisatsinom sat in the Great Hall as well. They looked askance at the outlanders, but did not pry. They weren’t used to Anghviri on their land. Robidas’ mind reeled back to when the Aresar appeared. He doubted that incident would be the last time they met. But at least they were allies. The Guardians of the Natural World were fearsome foes, but formidable friends as well. He was certain they would encounter one another when the need arose. Once the interminable banquet ended, Rob and the others hastened back to the nearby stables. It was time to get going. 

Marinelle

 The journey back to Harmony Springs, much like the last time they left, was a somber one. There was no tense conversation or gallows humor. Banter wouldn’t relieve the dread they all shared. Marinelle couldn’t get her mind off of what had happened before, when her loyal bodyguard, Tempestus Neptune, had been brutally murdered by a cruel and cunning adversary none of them saw coming. The malaise they all felt continued until they reached the area around Ezratowne. Though it seemed, before now, that nothing was wrong, they were proven horrendously wrong. As they rejoined the high road, they saw more and more corpses strewn about, mangled in various gruesome ways. In all of the centuries that the Shrine of the Oracle had persisted, no bloodshed on this level had ever been visited on it. The horror, the horror…

It was eerily quiet.

And it didn’t take long for them to discover why. 

They traveled towards the harbor of the lower town, and there they saw Cisco’s ship, the Corsair, half-sunk. The only reason it wasn’t at the bottom of the river was so that it could showcase the horrifying display on offer there. The rest of Cisco’s merry band of miscreants had been executed, their decapitated bodies scattered about the gangplank and their heads jammed to the prow on wicked-looking spikes. What they saw next disturbed them even more. 

Once they had made it to the grounds of the Shrine proper, the central fountain was red with blood. The goresoaked bodies of Lord and Lady Palomo lay nearby, their arms still around each other. Amidst all of the carnage stood Borys Blackgold, who was clearly proud of his handiwork. But who had done the butchery on his orders? That was the real question. 

And that was the question that was on Allegra’s lips; she could only watch as Marinelle howled with grief and anguish. Such a sound drew Blackgold’s attention, even though he must have known they were there all along. 

“Compliments of my true master, the Warlock Ricard Lusoff. Hail to the Netherlords!” He sprinted at Marinelle intending to finish her off while she was caught in the throes of despair. He had two ornate daggers held in either hand. But Robidas and Allegra were too quick for him.  Robida’s arrow shot hit him in the collarbone, leading him to reflexively drop one of his daggers. Meanwhile, Allegra assumed a powerful stance as she drew the Serenity. She knocked the other dagger aside, and then swept back in an arcing diagonal cut. The immortal steel passed through Borys’ armor as if it were made of tissue paper and not finely-burnished metal. He had been cut in half like a sandwich split into those delightful little triangle formations.