The Rorsted Archipelago, Bayam, the City of Generosity.
Dressed in a bishop's robe embroidered with lightning bolts and waves, Alger Wilson climbed the hillside beside the city. Traces still remained of the battle a year ago, when the Golden Queen and the Mad Adventurer had fought the Angels and Saints of the Rose School. Cliffs had collapsed and trees lay toppled. Although the Church of Storms had cleansed the corruption from a large stretch of land, not a blade of grass grew there, and ordinary people dared not approach.
He reached the edge of the cliff and gazed down at the harbor. Several ships, all painted bright red with the silhouette of a shapely woman on their mainsails, were moored at the docks. Busy sailors carried food and fresh water aboard without pause.
This was the fleet of Ilian Sauron, the "Red Haired Woman," who had already made something of a name for herself at sea. Her strength was said to rival that of the Pirate Admirals, but since she only transported cargo and never plundered merchant ships, she had not been given a similar title.
Crowded along one side of a ship were half-giants over two meters tall, their rugged faces bearing some resemblance to the Feysac people. They pointed curiously at the harbor's cranes, piers, and goods stacked out in the open, as though this were their first time seeing such commonplace sights at sea.
They're the residents of the City of Silver... Alger quickly confirmed this. His gaze swept over those "primitives" dressed in animal hides or coarse linen, and he soon found a figure somewhat shorter than the others.
His gaze lingered on the young man's still slightly boyish face, and the corners of Alger's mouth lifted.
As though sensing his scrutiny, Derrick Berg, the Unshadowed