The banquet hall fell into a heavy, awkward silence. Provost Creed loosened his grip on his sword hilt, though his eyes remained sharp.

  Lillian Liemmech looked at the three intruders with mild annoyance, as if they were flies that had buzzed into her laboratory.

  Kenta scrambled to his feet. He forced a smile that looked more like a grimace of pain.

  "Heh... heh... Good evening, Governor. Lovely weather we're having."

  He grabbed the back of Kelise’s tunic and yanked her down into a bow. He kicked Lil Sinbad’s shin until the red-haired boy followed suit.

  "We are so sorry!" Kenta shouted at the floor. "We didn't mean to intrude! We got lost!"

  The guards lowered their spears but kept them levelled. One of the guards, a man with a thick mustache, squinted at the boy in goggles.

  "Kenta?" The guard stepped forward. "Is that you? What in the tides are you doing here?"

  Kenta flinched. "Uncle Jory? Uh... surprise?"

  Barov Earl Karsteen sighed. The tension of the high-stakes negotiation drained away, replaced by the headache of dealing with local delinquents.

  "Silence," Barov commanded. He looked at the trio. "Breaking and entering into the Governor's residence is a serious crime. You three could be thrown in the dungeon for a month."

  Lil Sinbad straightened up. He dusted off his knees and looked the Governor in the eye.

  "We didn't mean any harm, Governor. It was the smell! That fish you guys were cooking... it floated all the way up the hill. We just wanted a peek. Maybe a taste."

  "Stealing food from the Governor," Uncle Jory scolded. "How brave of you."

  Barov shook his head. He turned to his guards. "Restrain them for now."

  The guards moved in and hauled the three kids to the side of the room. Barov adjusted his suit and turned to Lillian.

  "My deepest apologies, Ms. Liemmech. It seems our security was lax tonight. I assure you, they are just local children, not assassins."

  Lillian glanced at the kids, then checked her pocket watch. "It seems so. No harm done. Our discussion was concluded anyway."

  She stood up. "We will retire for the night. We can finalize the itinerary in the morning."

  "Of course," Barov said. "My guards can escort you to the inn if you wish."

  "That won't be necessary," Lillian replied coolly. She gestured to Yohan Creed and his squad. "I have the best protection money can buy."

  She swept out of the room, followed closely by the silent, imposing figures of Church Number Nineteen.

  Once the double doors closed, Barov turned his full attention back to the prisoners. The playful atmosphere evaporated.

  Barov said sternly. "Now, tell me the truth. How much did you hear?"

  Kenta gulped. "Not much! We just got there! We heard something about a portal and... crystals?"

  "And stars," Kelise added helpfully.

  Barov narrowed his eyes. "Listen to me well. What you heard tonight is state business. It is vital for the future of Aquaunia. You are not to speak a word of this to anyone. Not your parents, not your friends, not the town gossips."

  He stepped closer. "Swear it. Swear on the Goddess Aquarius."

  The three kids looked at each other. On this island, an oath to the Goddess was binding. To break it was to invite the wrath of the sea.

  "We swear," they chorused.

  Barov relaxed his posture. "Good. If I hear a whisper of this in the market, I will know who to blame."

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  Lil Sinbad sniffed the air. His eyes drifted to the mahogany table. The map was gone, but the plates of leftovers remained. Half-eaten roasted vegetables, artisan breads, and the carcass of the massive Prismfin Tuna still held plenty of meat.

  Sinbad said, "Hey, Governor. Since we swore the oath and everything... are you gonna eat that?"

  Barov blinked. "Excuse me?"

  "The food," Sinbad pointed. "Those mainlanders barely touched it. It's a waste to throw it out. Can we have it?"

  Barov looked at the feast. He was about to call the servants to clear it away, but he looked at the scrawny kids and sighed.

  "Fine," Barov waved his hand. "Go ahead. Better you than the pigs."

  "Yes!"

  Sinbad broke free from the guard’s loose grip and pulled out a heavy chair. "Come on, guys! Dig in!"

  Kenta and Kelise didn't need to be told twice. They rushed the table. They grabbed rolls and dipped them into the savoury sauces. They tore chunks of white meat from the tuna.

  "Oh wow. I've never tasted anything like this." Kelise mumbled with her mouth full.

  The maids and servants standing in the shadows watched in shock as the street rats devoured a meal worth more than their monthly wages. Even Uncle Jory stood at attention, his stomach betraying him with a loud growl.

  Grrrroooowl.

  Sinbad paused with a chicken leg halfway to his mouth. He looked at the guard.

  "Hey, mustache," Sinbad called out. "You hungry? Grab a plate."

  The guard hesitated. He glanced at the Governor. "I... I can't. I'm on duty."

  "Suit yourself," Sinbad shrugged and took a bite. "Starve then. What good is a weak, hungry guard? If an assassin came in right now, you'd faint from low blood sugar."

  Barov watched the interaction. He saw the way Jory eyed the tuna.

  "Oh, for heaven's sake. Eat, Jory. There is plenty."

  "Thank you, sir!"

  The guard practically dove at the table. He grabbed a fork and shoveled a piece of the Prismfin Tuna into his mouth.

  He froze. His eyes rolled back.

  "Oh... oh my."

  The flavor exploded on his tongue. For a moment, Jory wasn't standing in a banquet hall. He felt as if he were naked, swimming in a warm, golden ocean surrounded by beautiful mermaids who fed him grapes.

  "Easy there, old man," Sinbad laughed, stuffing his own cheeks. "Don't choke on the glory."

  Sinbad coughed on a crumb, and the room erupted in laughter. The tension that had plagued the night finally broke.

  Barov watched them for a moment and smiled. Then he remembered something.

  "Sinbad," Barov said.

  "Mmph?" Sinbad looked up, sauce on his chin.

  "Since you are here, I have a job for you. Consider it payment for the meal."

  Barov reached into his breast pocket and produced a sealed envelope. "Deliver this to Luv Mishane for me."

  Sinbad swallowed. A mischievous grin spread across his face.

  "Is it another love letter, Governor?"

  "Don't be ridiculous," Barov snapped, though his ears turned pink. "This is important official business regarding the... the harvest. And don't peek at it."

  "So it is a love letter," Sinbad jeered. He snatched the letter and stuffed it into his pocket. "Don't worry. I'll make sure Big Sis gets your poetry."

  The guards gasped. Nobody spoke to the Governor like that. But Barov just rolled his eyes.

  Everyone on the island knew the story. Years ago, Barov had pursued Mishane with the tenacity of a barnacle. But he was scrawny back then, a bookish boy with big dreams and small muscles. Luv Stinger had chased him off the porch with a harpoon more than once.

  That rejection lit a fire in Barov. He worked himself to the bone. He became a sailor, braved the storms, and then went overseas to study law and politics. He returned as a man worthy of respect. He won the election and became the youngest Governor in history at thirty-two.

  He did it all to prove himself to Stinger. But somewhere along the way, his focus shifted. He fell in love with the island itself. Now, his days were consumed by diplomatic ventures and battles with the stubborn Council of Elders. The romance was a fond, painful memory, but the connection remained.

  Barov cleared his throat. "One more thing, Sinbad."

  "Yeah?"

  "I heard your father finally woke up. Zareth, is it?"

  Sinbad nodded vigorously. "Yup! Papa is up and walking. He's super strong."

  "Good," Barov said thoughtfully. "I would like to have an audience with him. Bring him to me when he is ready."

  Sinbad opened his mouth to reply.

  CRASH!

  The ceiling above the banquet table exploded.

  Dust and timber rained down on the feast. A heavy figure dropped from the rafters and landed squarely in the center of the table. Plates shattered and sent food flying. Jory was knocked unconscious.

  "What the—?!"

  Barov shielded his face from the debris.

  The figure stood up amidst the ruin of the dinner. He was clad in a dark cloak that swirled around him like smoke. In the shadows of his hood, red markings glowed with a menacing light.

  "What is the meaning of this?" Barov shouted. "Guards!"

  "Too slow."

  The intruder moved. He launched himself off the table.

  BAM!

  He struck Barov in the chest. The Governor flew backward and crashed into a heavy oak cabinet. Wood splintered and glass shattered.

  "Guh...!" Barov slid to the floor, gasping for air.

  The intruder landed softly and dusted off his gloves. He smirked beneath his hood.

  "I expected more resistance. I didn't know the new Governor was this weak."

  He reached up and pulled back his hood.

  The guards froze. The face revealed was hard and cruel, marked by a jagged scar running down his cheek. But it was the tattoo on his neck that stopped their hearts.

  The number 39.

  Barov clutched his bruised ribs and looked up. He recognized that brand.

  'Number 39... That belongs to the inmates of The Abyssal Hold.'

  The Abyssal Hold was a prison carved into the rock beneath the sea, reserved for the worst pirates and murderers the island had ever known. No one escaped The Abyssal Hold.

  'Could he have broken out? No, that's unlikely. The security there is absolute.'

  Barov looked at the assassin. The man wasn't rushing to finish the kill. He was waiting.

  'He didn't use a weapon. He punched me. If he wanted me dead, I would be a corpse right now.'

  Realization hit Barov like a cold wave.

  'This is the Elders' doing. They released him. And his mission isn't to kill me... it's to capture me.'