Ian knew his intentions weren't all that noble. Lia was both gentle and strong, and she didn't need anyone to comfort her.
Ian quietly changed the subject. "Is the curse sorcerer Avery still alive?"
Lia answered at once. "He should be. His name is still on the pirate bounty list."
Ian pressed on. "Are you sure he's your enemy?"
Lia hesitated. "I'm not sure. I have no proof that it was him, and Avery never admitted it. If he really did it, it seems like he had no reason to deny it."
She'd only been nineteen back then, with her emotions ruled by hatred. Looking back now, she realized she'd been too reckless.
Ian looked up at the sky and the moon:
"Don't worry. Once we're done here, we'll head to the southern seas. If we run into him, I'll hold him down right here so you can get the answers you need."
Lia smiled faintly. She had no doubt Ian was capable of that now.
"It's late. Get some rest. Milta, call me if anything comes up."
Milta, who had been quietly listening the whole time, replied at once, "Understood, Captain."
The lights of Storm Port glittered like countless stars. Even late at night, its bustling commercial streets were still noisy.
The Government Hall, situated at the harbor entrance, was brightly lit. Under the glow of lavish whale-oil lamps, squads of guards patrolled, keeping the motley docks in check.
"Has that Highland Earl responded yet?" the dark red-skinned Government Hall official, Tuale, asked, glancing sideways at his assistant.
His murky, triangular eyes sat behind gold-rimmed glasses, making him look all the more bizarre. The sinister gaze behind those lenses sent a chill down his assistant's spine.
Although the official before him hadn't been formally appointed, he had been directly assigned by the governor of Storm Cape. The assistant couldn't afford to offend him.
The assistant bowed. "Your Excellency, the Highland Earl replied that his son is too young, so he isn't considering marriage for the time being."
Tuale snorted. "Insolent!" He returned to his desk and continued leafing through the register of nobles.
Rebecca Calvin was too much of an eyesore. Although the prince didn't care, it was a subordinate's duty to ease his master's burdens. They would find the girl some impoverished noble to marry off far away, and preferably have her die quietly of an illness in some forgotten corner. Then, in time, the whole matter would fade from people's memories.
It was that woman's own foolishness, too. If she'd joined the Church of Truth and Justice as a nun after they rescued her, no one would have been able to touch her. As the foremost Church of the Righteous Gods, even the royal family had to yield to the Church of Truth and Justice.
"Those Riverbend nobles have always been at odds with the Calvindes, haven't they? Send word to them—no, go there yourself. It doesn't matter if they're old. Get this matter settled this month. Do you hear me?"
The shrill voice made the assistant shudder. "Y-yes, I'll handle it at once, Your Excellency."
The assistant hurried out of the room, cursing inwardly.
Because of the political system, the royal family had always wielded overwhelming power, leaving the nobles struggling to breathe.
This time, their greed had been so blatant that it had already stirred up plenty of discontent among the nobles. And now they expected the nobles to clean up after them? They were asking too much. Until the struggle for the New Continent had been settled, not everyone would do the Second Prince's bidding!
"You've done more than enough, Justice Knight Roland," a deep voice rang through the transept.
"In truth, I did nothing at all. I, along with everyone else, just stood by and watched it happen." The knight wore full armor, his helmet resting on a nearby bench. His voice was low and heavy with restraint.
He had kept silent for far too long. Only now had he finally spoken what was in his heart.
A middle-aged knight in a robe, with a thick beard and hair, suddenly stepped beside him and pointed at the wall.
"Roland, raise your head and look at the holy emblem. Tell me your faith hasn't wavered."
Roland kept his head lowered, his expression impassive. "Ian once told me, 'Justice is like the sun, but it can't reach everyone.' I laughed and told him, 'Then I'll become the embodiment of justice and shine light into every corner.' But he only ever looked at me with a smile and said nothing."
Only now did he begin to understand the regret in Ian's eyes: regret for two friends who'd shared everything since childhood, but had taken different paths that would never cross again.
Roland finally understood, too, why Ian had said he could never become a true believer like him.
Roland looked up at his deeply troubled mentor. "Not being able to shine light somewhere and choosing not to are two different things. Why is what you taught me completely different from what you do?"
The middle-aged knight sighed. "Roland, neither of us is wrong. You simply don't yet understand the doctrine deeply enough. Justice isn't only about protecting the weak or upholding what's right. It is far-reaching. For the greater good, a just purpose is still justice."
Roland's lips curled in a self-mocking smile. "So Calvinde isn't part of the greater good, then. And I, as a Justice Knight, am pretty shallow too, aren't I?"
He stood, picked up his helmet, bowed to his mentor, and turned to leave the transept.
"I'll only uphold the justice I understand—" His resolute voice drifted back.
The golden-red sun blazed overhead. The Swordfish's crew took turns going out on deck to get some air and use the toilet. Then each received half a loaf of black bread and a small cup of water mixed with rum.
They all huddled fearfully, behaving with unnerving obedience. Their eyes darted toward the mast, full of terror.
A raven with scarlet eyes stood on the broken mast. Three bodies hung beneath it, shriveled and aged, their mouths gaping in terror, as if they'd experienced unimaginable fear before dying.
It was unrealistic to expect sailors who often moonlighted as pirates to obey orders without complaint. There were always fools who thought themselves clever and tried to pull something.
Evil Crow's first strike had cowed them all. Their shrill screams, their bodies rapidly aging, and the shudders that came from deep within their souls had been seared into the sailors' memories. They returned countless times in their dreams, becoming nightmares that would haunt them for the rest of their lives.
Ian and the others stood on the Leviathan's quarterdeck, nibbling on fruit as they watched from afar.
Ian was also a little surprised by Beatrice's performance. He'd thought her direct combat ability wouldn't be all that strong. He hadn't expected three exceptionally burly sailors to be left with no chance of fighting back.
After consuming three people, Beatrice's spiritual power and physical strength had both increased to some degree. The idea that killing could make her stronger sounded a little terrifying. It was better not to let anyone else know.
Lia looked at Ian with a trace of concern. Watching the raven kill the sailors had been bloody and evil. Could a magical pet like that really avoid corrupting and influencing its master's spiritual power?
Milta munched on a cucumber, entirely unconcerned. In his heart, the captain was wise and powerful. Everything he did surely had a reason Milta couldn't understand.
Ian gave Lia a reassuring look, then pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. Wawa could rest for another half day. They'd pick up speed in the afternoon and try to reach Storm Cape by the thirteenth.
Ian tossed the pocket watch to Lia. "Here. Replace that antique of yours."
Before you continue