Eric was terribly hungover. The morning light shined through the young lord's window, there was talking and yelling outside, everything was sharp and unpleasant. The town was getting ready, their journey towards the supposed grand finale was about start. Sir Kleid was here just moments ago, knocking on Eric's door, urging him to get up. He felt like he had to gather all his willpower to be able to get dressed. His body was weakened and numb with the after-effect of alcohol, and his nausea was hard to bear.

  “You were never one for drinking, my lord,” Kleid commented when the boy finally walked out their house.

  “Absolutely not, and I never will be,” said Eric, shielding his eyes from the sunlight.

  “Wise words.”

  The knight handed him a fsk of water, and Eric gdly gulped down most of it. Then they began their way towards the docks – Marcel was already there, and so were most of everyone else, according to the knight. But as they walked through an ally and reached one of the main streets that led straight to the waterfront, a lone te pirate still joined them, none other than Carlos Wayne himself. They nodded at each other as a greeting, and continued; Carlos in front, the two Cesanitians behind.

  “Are you nervous, my lord?” Kleid asked.

  “I am,” replied Eric.

  “Hmmm. I must admit, at first I felt dubious about this endeavour of yours, but I am now convinced. Your decisions were correct, this is an important mission that has to be done. So fear not! We will see it through, and I'll do my best to keep you safe. I'll be by your side no matter what happens.”

  “Oh, that. Well, thank you, sir.”

  The knight was a little surprised by that response. “Is there perhaps something else that bothers you?”

  “Of course there is,” Carlos chimed in, gncing back over his shoulder. “Haven't you noticed, Sir Kleid?”

  “Noticed what?”

  “Lord Goldman has a matter of love to deal with,” the pirate smiled.

  Eric blushed slightly, and sighed.

  “Excuse me for my insolence,” said the pirate captain, slowing down so he could walk by Eric's side, “but I really think that's nothing to be ashamed of. It's quite the uplifting thing to witness, in my opinion. Even at the face of our upcoming trial, we have such tender feelings blooming in our ranks. Oh, what is the danger of a viscous vilin compared to the turmoil of a young, uncertain heart in love?”

  “Thank you for you sympathy, but... I do feel kind of foolish,” Eric admitted.

  “That's only natural. If I may advise you, I would say you should simply ask her to tell you her honest feelings. You've already told her yours, haven't you?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “The matter of romance is an area of my expertise.”

  “If this is true,” said Sir Kleid, “then I agree with the pirate. It's better to make things clear.”

  “The sooner, the better,” Carlos nodded. “We will voyage for a fortnight towards our destination, a long time to spend in agonizing uncertainty, not to mention what awaits us in the end is definite danger. Not to be a pessimist, but taking such a risk with a heart full of what-ifs and regrets is probably not the wisest.”

  “But... she really seems like she is avoiding the matter. All she said was that she doesn't mind that I'm into her. What could that mean? If I force her into a corner....”

  “She had plenty of time to think things through,” Carlos said. “And if she needs more, she can just tell you that too. Honesty is key. You deserve an answer, Eric.”

  “Right,” the young lord gulped. “Right...”

  Everyone really was at the docks already. Two additional ships were to join their fleet, making it consist of six in total. One was the pink-sailed ship of the Fmingo Hearts, the other was Goliath's own ship. Their numbers were close to 400 in total, and since their destination really was at the western shore of Cesanitia, it was possible that they could get some additional support from other lords and knights around there.

  Folks were still loading the st of their cargo onto the vessels, carrying chests and barrels up the gangways. Marcel was resting in the shade of a waterfront house in the company of Chio, that boy the angel often hung out with (Terry), and the fairy woman Friska. The white-haired girl wore light-purple today, it fit the color of her eye. Carlos nudged Eric in their direction, giving him a wink. The young lord reluctantly approached his love.

  “...froze the whole river over, and the cattle could pass.” Marcel was telling the tale of one of her stunts. “You should have seen the vilgers' faces! It was such a glorious day, if I say so myself.”

  “And then what, you stayed there and froze it every day as needed?” asked the fairy.

  “No? Obviously they repaired the bridge in a few days.”

  “Doesn't sound like such a life-saving feat then.”

  “Oh, that's not the point. Why are you so...”

  “Hey, you were the one who used those words!”

  “I do wish I could have seen it,” Chio said quickly.

  “Do you only care about pure utility?” Marcel fixed her gaze on Friska, getting kind of worked up. “Is that all that matters to you? There is more to life than that! There is passion, style! Radiance of the spirit! How empty is an existence that's cking in such things! What even is the point of living if it's just...”

  “You're putting words into my mouth now, dy,” Friska said with an expression that was somewhere between amused and irritated.

  “Hmmpf! Anyway. There is more to it than that. Before I said farewell to those vilgers, I've shown them my ice dance too.”

  “Ice dance?” Chio asked.

  “That's what I call it. It was actually Eric's idea, isn't that right, Eric?”

  “Uhm, yes,” Eric said.

  “He read about an old northern habit,” expined the white-haired girl. “Some tribes used to attach sharpened animal bones to the bottom of their boots, and use those to swiftly travel through frozen kes.”

  “Sharpened bones?” Terry repeated, clearly having a hard time imagining how that worked.

  “Yes, I read about that too,” Friska said.

  “But how do sharpened bones help you travel swiftly on ice?” Chio asked.

  “You can sort of slide and glide with them,” Marcel expined. “You would have to see it to get it. I do have a pair custom made for me, if we had more time, I could have shown it to you. It's gonna be trickier on the ocean, since it's a huge body of water and salty too, harder to freeze. But maybe I'll be able to show you at one point during this voyage anyway.”

  “I'm really curious now,” said the angel.

  “I've never seen them in action,” said Friska.

  “Sharpened bones...” Terry muttered.

  As the conversation reached a bit of a lull, Eric gathered his courage. “Marcel, may I talk with you for a moment?”

  “Huh?” the girl turned towards him. She looked a little hesitant all of a sudden.

  “In private, if possible,” the young lord added.

  “All right.”

  They walked back innd on the main road, and stopped at the entrance of an alleyway.

  “About our talk earlier,” Eric started. He was blushing, but he was determined. “I told you I'm in love with you. I really want to know how you feel about me. You can be honest! No need to hold back anything, I just need to know.”

  Marcel set her gaze up towards the sky, stretched her arms, then fiddled with her thumbs. She was slow to answer, and Eric's anxiety grew with every second.

  “Do you not...”

  “Fifty-fifty,” Marcel blurted.

  “Fifty-fifty?”

  “It's the truth! I honestly don't know. I do like you for sure, as an old friend at least. You are kind of clever, well-read, safe and easy to be around... and I admit I like that you are into me. I just can't help but enjoy people admiring me.” She now pyed with her hair, lowered her gaze and smiled nervously. She looked up again. “Really, I'm not sure. It's a weird pce to be for a maiden like me, you know! Look what you've done to me!” she ughed and shook her head. “But it's fine with me. I don't mind it, I just hope it's fine with you too. If it is, if you can wait for my answer however long it takes and still hang out with me in the meanwhile, I wouldn't mind finding it out myself.”

  “So... you do need more time.”

  “I do.”

  “That's okay.” Eric felt relieved – what he heard was definitely not as bad as he feared.

  “It's settled, then,” the girl said.

  And yet, as they began their way back towards the ships, Eric started to feel a churning in his stomach. What he heard was not as good as he hoped.

  “What if you decide you are not into me?”

  “I... don't know,” replied Marcel. “I don't want to throw away our friendship either way, and... I know it sounds strange, but even then, I think I could enjoy knowing that I'm making your heart ache for me. But of course I can't expect you to just be okay with that. If it's just one-sided.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “On the other hand, who could even shake my world up like I did yours? I'm the best, after all.” Marcel lifted her chin proudly, but then her posture loosened again. “I don't know, I've never fallen in love before. And it's honestly not something that ever interested me that much. Am I weird, Eric?”

  “No. I mean, I don't care.”

  The girl stopped in her tracks, and Eric stopped too, turning towards her questioningly. She spread her arms, inviting the male in, and they hugged. She was the one to break the hug too.

  As they reached the waterfront, Goliath's voice soon bellowed through the harbour, decring that everything's ready. It was time to board the ships. In the commotion at the piers, Eric got separated from his love again, partly on purpose. He wanted a bit of distance to think for a moment. Suddenly, captain Carlos was next to him.

  “How did it go?”

  “She needs more time.”

  “Hmm, not much progression then, I suppose. Or did she say anything else?”

  “She said... even if it turns out she can't be into me, she could still enjoy making my heart ache.”

  “Oh my. How does that sound?”

  “Confusing.”

  “If that's really the first word that comes to your mind, I say that's good, then.”

  “Good?”

  “Carlos!” someone yelled from the gangway of a ship on the other side of the pier, and the pirate captain waved at them, showing he will be there in a moment.

  “Many would disagree with me on this,” he said quickly, “but I firmly believe that desire at its best is altruistic. You saying that you are confused suggests to me that on some level, you ARE ready to take your pce next to her, however she defines that. You love her, after all, and she is willing to accept that. It doesn't have to be a conventional retionship, Eric. She is quite unconventional, after all. She is an independent young woman who's desire is to shape her own destiny, and if you ask me, she has immense potential. Wouldn't it be a privilege to be her dedicated supporter?”

  “Her dedicated supporter...”

  “I can see that work. With you two, I can. Think about it!” Carlos patted Eric's shoulder, then hurried to his own ship.

  “Where the hell do you think we are?” Arabel asked, lying exhausted in their dark little cabin.

  “We are going north, that's all I know,” said Shreya quietly.

  “How many days now? Five? Six?”

  “Six... I think.”

  The redhead got up, turned into her demon form and began pacing back and forth impatiently. Her body was bruised, and she had some nasty cuts on her back. The day before this one, Warren forced them to manifest their wings, and he cut them up again.

  “Fuck him... fuck him...” Arabel whispered under her breath as she was walking in circles.

  “Why are you doing that?” Shreya asked with a weak voice. “It's tiring to even look at you.”

  “Are you lethargic again?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Come on! We just gotta wait for Chio and the others to catch up, that will be our time to fight. We will fuck him up! We will, we will! With Chio and the others, together we...”

  “You are obsessive.”

  “What? Shreya, you can't be serious. Don't you hate him?”

  “Please, just be quiet for a while!” the dark-skinned woman blurted. “Please...” she repeated in a lower, defeated voice.

  “You've gotta be kidding me...”

  “You keep going on and on and on about all this stuff, I can't, Arabel... it's been six days of torture, I can't think about anything like that anymore, so please...”

  “He is a monster. He killed and tortured so many people.”

  “Please...”

  “Huh. I guess your mind is broken.”

  Shreya curled up into a ball and turned towards the wall. Arabel kept pacing around, cursing Warren Crown quietly. Even if initially the two succubi inspired hope in each other in their captivity, six days of being Warren's prisoner was six days of hell. The man had one and only goal with them: to turn them into living tools of destruction with broken spirits. His methods were having their effects.

  Eventually, they heard a familiar banging on the door of their cabin, and Shreya began to beg Arabel to turn back into her human form. The red succubus had a furious look, but she complied. The big guy walked in, their oppressive brute of a food source. It was time for dinner.

  Shreya was rather expressionless as she took it this time. Arabel kept chanting “endure now, fuck him up ter” in her head mechanically. The truth is, she wasn't that much better off than her fellow succubus, she was just more stubborn. At least she was trying to be. By this point, even objectifying the man, focusing purely on his dick was difficult. It was a tasty piece of meat, but the way he treated them, the way everyone treated them on this damn ship was just so humiliating and so fucking dark. Their masochism was pushed beyond its limit, it turned hollow.

  About half an hour in, when they were well into their second round, the big guy smmed Shreya down with such force, it almost sounded like the wooden floor is about to break. She lost her breath, but dick was already pushed into her mouth. After the guy came down her throat and finally stepped back, Shreya was gasping for air with red, bulging eyes. The big guy was pulling his pants up, and he was about to leave already. Arabel was lying on her back, grinding her teeth with eyes closed. Then she suddenly heard the painful sobbing of Shreya. She has never seen her like that before, and that pulled her out of her maniacal fixation on the thought of her eventual vengeance.

  Surprisingly, even the brute halted. He walked back towards Shreya; Arabel kneeled up, ready to interfere. But the big guy only patted the crying woman's head. A little forcefully, but it was undeniably a gesture of sympathy. He left without a word quickly afterwards.

  “Shreya...” Arabel y next to her, and carefully, gently caressed her. Shreya didn't react much. “I'm sorry, Shreya...”

  They only heard the big guy's screams: he was as loud as he was powerful. They never saw him again after this incident. Their new provider was a scrawny, terrified little guy who seemed as traumatized as them. He was kind of pathetic and devoid of feelings, he had a hard time even just getting hard, but at least he wasn't really aggressive.

  What Warren did to the big guy was good old castration. He did it on the main deck, in front of everyone, he even revealed a bit of his skeletal form when the burly fellow tried to fight him. When he was done, he did a speech about how he expects his men to never show women an ounce of mercy or sympathy, not for a moment. Not the first time he told them that, but this was a good opportunity to demonstrate the consequences of breaking this rule, and his ability to sense such things.

  The big guy was allowed to keep working in his crew, but he was just a shell of his former self, and then he died the very next day – they said his genital wounds got infected.

  Warren was out on the front of his ship at dusk that day, staring into the distance. Cesanitia was not too far now. But then something happened, something nobody else on the ship really understood. The expressionless Warren suddenly jerked his head up and ran to the back of the ship, staring towards the south. Some of his crew members saw him – shockingly, the ruthless pirate looked kind of nervous.

  “C-captain?” asked one of his men hesitantly.

  “Turn the ship. We are going back.”

  At the western shores of Cesanitia, by the vilge of Pinewood Hill, there stood an old, ruinous mansion. It was built atop the hill overlooking the vilge, and it was abandoned for centuries.

  Three figures were approaching the ruins. Two of them were young men, lesser nobles, schors. They were currently traveling through the countryside, working on their project of uncovering old rural fables and mysteries. The third person was a curious, pretty peasant girl who somehow ended up joining them recently.

  “So what's up with this pce again?” she asked.

  “According to the local legend, a famous female magic user lived here a long time ago,” one of the guys began expining eagerly.

  “She was said to be an outstanding beauty, who many men fell for,” said the other.

  “But she rejected all of them. Supposedly, she was a virgin till the end of her life.”

  “Some say that this pce is haunted by her. As the tale goes, her spirit stayed in the realm of mortals because she broke the heart of a man who got fixated on her so strongly, his will prevented her from fully moving on.”

  “Really?” the woman asked. “Sounds creepy, that man.”

  Suddenly, an ugly old woman walked out from behind a tree and faced them intently. The three travelers stopped in their tracks, the peasant girl gasped.

  “Who are you?” one of the young men asked with forced confidence.

  The old woman was Thora, but there was no point in introducing herself. She sighed. She wasn't all too enthusiastic about doing this kind of thing, but she felt like she has to py her part. For all of their sakes. “Beware, young ones!” she said dramatically. “This vilge is doomed, it's only a matter of time. You shall leave as soon as you can. Warn the vilgers too, then your conscience shall be clear as you flee.”

  “This vilge is doomed? Why?”

  “It's...” Thora jerked her head up and fell silent.

  At the same time, far away to the south, in the Scorched Lands, deep down a cave system approachable from a canyon, an archdemon was lying dormant on the cold stone floor in red, dim light. A purplish cloud was swirling around him, some kind of powerful sleeping powder. A half-goblin stepped through it, his face covered by a cloth. He looked miniscule compared to the knocked out figure. He walked down the radiant passage past the demon, and stopped before a metal door: the gate of hell. Little Borg just stood there for a minute, then reached into his pocket, pulling out the watch of his father. He held it by the chain attached to it, and slowly raised it towards the door. It worked. The edges of the door began to glow, and then it started opening. Borg quickly tugged the watch back into his pocket, and ran away. The glowing stopped, and the door closed again.

  Back up north by Pinewood Hill, Thora rolled her eyes. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”