"You're just shirking responsibility! For the sake of your own career, you're pushing the kingdom into the abyss! Tell me, do you really think our current strength is enough to win?" Ariel demanded furiously.

Monge Greywater shot back without hesitation, "How will we know if we don't fight? The gods have granted us strength and courage. Are we supposed to hide and rot away?!"

Their unrestrained shouting echoed through the chamber, startling the guards outside into quietly retreating a few steps.

It was best to stay far away from a quarrel between the kingdom's general and its princess.

Every nation has its own troubles, and every trouble required a different solution.

To Ariel, the pirates were at most a chronic irritation. They were few in number and demanded little, just like natural disasters. You didn't pour your entire treasury into fighting storms.

The people of the Ragetide Kingdom would go about their lives after the wake of every tsunami or tempest.

If all their time was spent battling calamities, who would fish? Who would farm? Who would build ships or forge steel?

But Monge saw it differently. How could a soldier pretend not to see an enemy in the distance? How could they bow and offer tribute instead?

The teachings of the Lord of Storms did not preach submission, but rather destruction by thunder and gale.

Their stances were irreconcilable, and the argument escalated.

Realizing she could not persuade him, Ariel finally slammed her stormhammer onto the table.

Explosive lightning obliterated the heavy desk, reducing it to blackened splinters and ash.

Monge Greywater leapt back in shock. "What are you doing? Your Highness, are you attempting to assassinate a general of the kingdom?!"

Ariel sneered. "Didn't you say the gods grant us strength and courage to defeat mighty foes? I challenge you. Let the victor decide what to do. If you lose, you will apologize to my father and demand he rescind the nationwide mobilization order."

"You're insane!" Monge roared. "National policy, decided by a duel?!"

It was madness. He commanded troops, whereas she was a legendary stormpriest. If they fought, wouldn't he be smashed to death?

"How, then, should I interpret your words? Didn't you claim that courage and strength were precious virtues to you? Or do they only apply when others risk their lives? Won't you even accept a woman's challenge? How can you call yourself a general of the Ragetide Kingdom?"

Ariel gave him no room to respond. She flung her glove at him.

This was the sign of a formal challenge. If he refused, word would spread.

He might not lose his position outright, but in the Ragetide Kingdom, being branded a coward would make his life exceedingly difficult.

The princess had struck precisely at his weakness.

Monge could not afford to duel her. He did not want to be pulped beneath her hammer. Grinding his teeth, he relented. "What exactly do you want?"

"Have my father rescind his order! Nationwide mobilization will sink us into poverty. Do you know how many will starve because of this?!"

This had been her purpose from the start. Militaristic extravagance did not suit their fragile kingdom. What they needed was recovery and growth. Decades after its founding, the Ragetide Kingdom's population growth remained stagnant, a failure of every previous king.

Without population, there could be no national strength. Without strength, there could be no military power.

The island environment was terribly harsh, with tsunamis, earthquakes, and storms unending. The kingdom offered little in the way of public welfare, relying instead on force to maintain submission. Continue like this, and collapse would be inevitable.

Ariel did not wish to inherit a kingdom on the brink. She believed they should learn from Lyon, treating the lower classes better so that they might endure hardship.

Though her vision differed from past kings', her method was equally direct.

If Monge disagreed with her, then let them duel. Let the winner decide what to do.

Cornered, Monge was forced to compromise. "The plan cannot be canceled outright. The Ragetide Legion has already begun preparing its mass spell. Even if they halt now, they will still require half a year's rest."

"The legion is not my concern. Lift the martial lockdown. Let the fishermen fish! Do you truly fear undead disguising themselves as men? This pirate fleet has existed for years. Have you ever seen them rely on subterfuge? They fight head-on. What purpose does sealing the ports serve?!"

"...Very well. I will advise the king to lift the blockade. As you wish, Princess. May I go now?"

He was deeply exasperated. But in the Ragetide Kingdom, might made right. Wasn't that precisely why Ariel had been chosen heir? She was a legendary powerhouse, after all.

In truth, her demand was not unreasonable. The undead had never employed trickery. The lockdown served little purpose. Let them come openly.

With Monge's cooperation, Ariel succeeded in persuading the king to lift the port restrictions.

The army, however, remained on alert, ready for a decisive battle against the undead at any moment.

What Ariel did not anticipate was that, shortly after the lockdown was lifted, a disguised Ambrose arrived outside the capital, accompanied by the demigod Aige.

"This is Sevensea City, capital of the Ragetide Kingdom."

Aige, having transformed into an elderly fisherwoman, pointed toward the sprawling city ahead.

Ambrose had likewise taken the form of a weathered old fisherman, his face etched with salt and wind. Walking along the bustling docks, they blended seamlessly among the grimy laborers.

Fisherfolk aged quickly: they were lashed by sea winds, soaked in brine, and baked by sun and storm.

They looked no different from the rest, except that they moved at a leisurely pace. Others hurried to sea, to shore, to mend nets and to gut fish.

Ambrose and Aige simply strolled. They seemed altogether too relaxed.

But no one paid them any mind. The king's orders changed as quickly as the tide. He had first sealed the harbor, then commanded that it be reopened. The delay had cost precious time. Everyone was scrambling to make up for it before hunger struck their households.

The two passed through the stinking harbor and entered the city unchallenged.

The guards barely glanced at the foul-smelling fishermen before waving them through.

Once inside, they slipped into a secluded corner and resumed their true forms.

"Separated from my main body, I cannot wield my full strength," Aige said. "I still don't understand why you insist on infiltration."

Her original plan had been straightforward—lead her pirate fleet through the submerged entrance into the lake, strike the palace directly, seize control, and then search for the divine artifact Ambrose sought at their leisure.

Ambrose had proposed otherwise.

"Your true form is a ghost ship," he explained. "You're strongest at sea. Even if we enter the inner harbor, if they fortify their defenses on land, your power will be constrained. A prolonged siege won't benefit anyone. Better to steal the artifact quietly. Needless casualties would be wasteful."

Even if undead lives were cheap, he had no desire to see her fleet suffer heavy losses.

Signs pointed toward greater upheavals in the future. As a fellow member of the Elegiac Society, Aige was a natural ally. He would not squander an ally's strength.

He had come for an artifact, not a war.

If he could retrieve it by stealth, why bother with a head-on clash?

Even the weakest kingdom consisted of millions of lives. There were always hidden reserves and trump cards.

Ambrose was a businessman. He did not make losing investments.

"What now?" Aige demanded. "The elves' information is vague. They only state that the artifact lies somewhere near the palace's inner sea. We won't get far disguised as fishermen."

"It's fine. I have a method of entry."

He had brought Aige mainly as insurance: if they were discovered, she could help him break free. The search itself required no brute force.

Ambrose plucked a withered yellow leaf from a vine and flicked it into the air.

Dice of fate manifested around him, tumbling onto the leaf.

Illusory fate could not move dead matter, but it could stir the wind.

The leaf drifted forward. "Follow it," Ambrose said. "It will guide us to the artifact."

"So this is the power of divination?" Aige murmured enviously. "Mages truly have endless tricks."

Though she was a demigod and could easily defeat Ambrose in battle, her ability to use magic was certainly weaker than Ambrose's own. He was a legendary magician, after all.

"Tricks aren't everything. Sometimes I wish I'd specialized."

If he had devoted himself entirely to alchemy, perhaps he would already have become the God of Alchemy. Instead, he had wandered too far down too many paths.

Now there was no turning back.

The leaf floated onward, down main streets and through winding alleys, until they reached a broad plaza.

Workers labored there, hauling massive stones into place. Slow work was rewarded with lashes.

"Is this where the artifact lies?" Aige asked.

"I'm not sure, but fate will rarely deceive me."

The leaf had yet to settle. It drifted into the center of the square and landed not on the ground, but on the shoulder of a bearded giant.

Aige smiled. "Is destiny pointing to the man, or where he stands?"

Ambrose hesitated briefly. "...Let's bind the man first."