The stars were like dust.
The Silver Robe Mages disappeared one after another behind the Gate of Light. Tulamann watched Brando, who had both hands braced against the ship's rail and was leaning forward to stare at him, then smiled faintly before turning and stepping through the Gate of Light as well. He was the last of the Buga people to leave. The circular Gate of Light on the skybridge rotated half a turn clockwise behind him, then rapidly shrank into a point of light and slowly drifted to the ground like a speck of dust.
Under the night sky, Rune Port looked devastated after the day's fierce battle. Not a single person remained in the silent urban district. Rune Port had never been large. Aside from the nobles who were unwilling to abandon their properties, most civilians had either left or fled during the early stages of the war. The remaining refugees had already been transferred aboard the ships by Brando through the Eluin diplomatic corps. The Cruzian nobles were deeply dissatisfied that these commoners were taking up their limited resources and living space, and they had been arguing incessantly. But Brando could not be bothered with them. This fleet belonged to Valhalla—and to him—so he had no need to answer to them.
The silver fleet hovered above the harbor like a school of fish. Warships of all sizes surrounded several capital ships that were clearly more than a circle larger. At the very center of the fleet was the flagship, the Arknaton. Under the clear starlight, sailors tightened the ropes at the first mate's command, and silver-shimmering sails began to billow. Listening to those orders, Brando felt utterly calm. On the deck, Marjorie, an officer from Yanila Su, was directing the sailors to roll barrels filled with fresh