Epilogue - Eerie Calm

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The storm pounded its fists against the glass like a monster that had lost its patience. The wind drove its chill into the cracks of the somber Castle of Drakhalia, once sunlit and now cloaked in spectral tempests. Outside, the night seemed intent on tearing everything away. Inside, however, the chamber was sealed, warmed by the faint glow of an oil lamp that smelled of wax and iron.

Two guards suddenly opened the door, planting themselves on either side inside the hall. A third man, drenched in salt and smoke, had just entered under escort. His cape dripped and his boots dragged in water and splinters.

There was already someone inside. With his back turned, beside an oak table, someone poured himself a drink. He seemed tall, but as he inclined his head, the lamplight revealed a tail covered in dark scales slipping from beneath his coat.

“Still, right there,” said the tall one. His voice was deep, stripped of anything human, as if his vocal cords had been replaced with gravel.

The newcomer obeyed without a word, stopping four steps behind. He waited in silence for a few seconds, silence heavy with purpose, before exhaling.

“Of all the men I expected to fail like dogs on the offensives… you were the last, Drey Malbrine.”

Malbrine raised his chin with effort. His face was barely discernible beneath the varnish of battle. Fresh burns cracked his skin, one eyebrow was gone, and his hair clung in clumps to his soot-streaked forehead. His presence filled the chamber with the stench of coal and sour wine.

“You wanted to see me?” he rasped.

“No… but you leave me no choice. How was your trip back?” The speaker kept pouring his drink slowly, disdain thick in his tone.

“Those assault brigantines are a nuisance. They sway too much.” Malbrine exhaled and forced a dry laugh. “But passing close by saved my life when they were… burning me alive. I suppose I was lucky.”

“Lucky…”

The tail of the pirate struck his face with the languid snap of a whip. Malbrine stumbled, falling flat on his face. His growl was the only reply.

“Still. I told you to stay still,” the reptilian voice cut again.

Slowly, the man turned. The lamplight bounced off a face that was not wholly human. His open jaw revealed fangs. In place of lips, his mouth was more akin to a muzzle. His eyes gleamed cold, wet yellow.

He leaned toward Malbrine, crouching. With calm that made it all the more monstrous, he brought his glass close to Malbrine’s battle wound, a gash reopened by the lash of his tail.

“Do you know what this is?” the reptile asked, lifting the glass near his face.

“Coral Flame,” Malbrine muttered, like reciting a litany he already knew.

“Idiot.” The reptile poured some of the liquid into his wound, searing it with a pain barely tolerable. Malbrine had no choice but to remain still. “It’s Coral Flame from when we raided Luminas three months ago. Do you remember when we tore the barrel from that old man? And then killed him along with that boy who meddled? You were right beside me!”

“I… remember,” Malbrine struggled to say.

“And now you want to tell me you lost an entire galleon, two brigantines, and eighty men to those… spirits who pray to a Goddess?” The word 'Goddess' dripped from his tongue like ash. “Those fools who cling to honor and nonsense? The ones you were supposed to bend with your charisma and vanity?” He snarled, irritated. “Damn it, I thought you were truly a man.”

His fist struck the floor, the sound marking the only answer for a moment. Malbrine could not move, dominated by pain and the terror imposed by his captain.

“It’s that boy,” the wounded man spat. “That damned boy. Kashi… something.”

“A boy like the one we killed for that barrel? Was it so hard to do the same?” The reptile’s mocking tone was merciless, surpassing even cruelty.

Malbrine’s breath grew ragged, his anger stoked more by pain than pride.

“No. This one is different. He’s armed. And he has… things. Explosives, hooks that fire… they call him the ‘Pirate Buster,’” he said bitterly.

The reptile’s fist slammed into his shoulder, drawing only a grunt.

“Idiot. He’s a boy of your own kind. Do you imagine me losing to one of those lesser dragon whelps? Do you claim I am no different from any Drakhanian?”

“No…” he could barely whisper. “Never.”

The half-human seemed pleased with the reply, though his eyes narrowed once more. He spilled the remaining drink over Malbrine’s wound, making it burn, then stood and returned to his place.

“Tell me, Drey Malbrine, Sub-Captain of Drakhalia assigned to Kounaria: how do I tell the Council of Captains that we were humiliated by a boy ‘with things’? The other Great Isles surge ahead. Even this so-called ‘Black Hammer’ woos the King of the Horizon with his advances… and you lost to those Kounarians. You’re no different from them.”

Malbrine stared at the ceiling, rejecting the words. He was a human of Skar-Dral, the Pirate capital, and knew the Abyss better than anyone. He would not accept being compared to Kounarians. He had no strength left, but knew that if he didn’t act, he was finished.

“Give me another chance, Karzagan,” he begged as he staggered upright. “You say I’m like a Kounarian, and they believe in luck. If so, it’s no accident I’m still alive. Everything happens for a reason.”

Karzagan did not believe him, just as he believed nothing born of what he called 'the ants of the light.' Yet he chose not to crush him there and then.

“We’ll see. You’ll have to rise from this humiliation and work hard to become stronger.” He stepped past him, heading for the door. His tail struck a chair with a sharp crack, commanding respect. “In the meantime, clean up this mess. I don’t want my war room filthy.”

Malbrine coughed blood and nodded. “Yes, captain.”

Karzagan gave a slight signal to the guards, still as shadow statues, and they rushed into the hall. Before leaving, he stopped at the threshold. The lamplight flashed in his eyes like judgment.

“And tell what remains of your crew that the High Captain now commands. The games are over. We will crush those Kounarians, if necessary with the entire fleet of the Isle, and the Compass Plan will proceed. End of discussion.”

This was no longer about tepid occupation or simple raiding. He spoke of war. When pirates subdued a people, they enslaved them.

And if they refused, they burned them to ashes.

With that warning, the reptile left the broken, boastful pirate behind, his steps echoing down the lit corridor like hammer blows. He advanced in silence, leaving only the roar of the sea crashing against Drakhalia’s walls. The storm rattled the windows, but each stride resounded louder than the tempest. He reached the armory with firm steps. His scaled hand grasped the iron handle, squeezing it until the metal bent like wax. He pushed open the door and entered the shadowed chamber.

Upon shelves and racks lay pieces of armor forged from bleached bones and dark dragon scales. Karzagan stopped before his personal armor, the most feared of all. A heavy frame adorned with fangs, spines, and scaled plates, its mere sight crafted to shatter any foe’s will before a blade was even drawn.

“Pirate Buster…” he murmured, the new word rough in his throat. “You had better live up to your name. I want at least some resistance before I crush you.”

Karzagan lifted his daunting High Captain’s helm, marking the Pirate Kingdom’s first act to wipe the Pirate Buster off the map and eradicate Kounaria forever.

~~~END OF VOLUME 1~~~