Anemoi 11 – Anemoi 15, Imperial Year 1645
Newhope – The Eastern Docks
The old ship had a name once. Sea Serpent. Captain Harlan had sailed her through storms and monster hunts, carrying refugees from the fall of Mesos. Now she was dying.
Her timbers groaned as workers pulled them apart. Her mast lay on the dock, stripped of rigging. Her hull was a skeleton, ribs exposed to the sun. She was being dismantled plank by plank, nail by nail—not for a new ship, but for the town. Lumber for the new granary. Beams for the expanded clinic. Planks for the second floor of the schoolhouse.
But not everything would go to buildings.
Beardless Corvin stood at the edge of the dry dock, a roll of parchment in his hands. The blueprints were incomplete—smudged in places, missing entire sections. But they were his. He had carried them in his memory for twenty years, since the bombing, since the darkness, since the first breath in this new body.
A Spanish war galleon. Three masts. Square‑rigged. A hull that could cut through the open sea and carry a hundred men.
He traced the keel line with his finger.
"Edmund," he said, "we need more oak."
Edmund Voss stood beside him, arms crossed. "The forest is three days away. The sawmill is running at capacity."
"Then run it harder."
Voss didn't argue. He had learned not to argue with Beardless Corvin about ships.
The Blueprints – Beardless Corvin's Explanation
Corvin spread the parchment on a barrel. Workers gathered. Roderick, Grom, Kithri, even Torvin—all curious. Gregor stood at the edge, arms crossed, trying to look like he belonged.
"This is the keel," Corvin said, pointing to a long line. "Sixty feet. The backbone of the ship."
"That's longer than the Serpent," Roderick said.
"Longer, wider, deeper. The Serpent was a merchant vessel. This is a war galleon."
He traced the ribs. "Frames every two feet. Planking three inches thick. The hull will be double‑sheathed—oak on the outside, pine on the inside."
"Why double?" Grom asked.
"To stop cannonballs."
The group exchanged glances.
"Cannonballs?" Kithri's tail twitched.
"The world is dangerous. Demons, cultists, pirates." Corvin looked up. "I'm not building a fishing boat. I'm building a fortress."
He pointed to a pile of salvaged timbers from the Sea Serpent. "Most of her wood is going to the town. But the curved pieces—the knees, the futtocks—those I'm keeping. My blueprints don't show those angles clearly. Her old ribs will fill the gaps."
"So you're using the Serpent as a reference," Torvin said.
"A crutch. But yes."
Kithri tilted her head. "Hey, Beardless Corvin."
He sighed. "That's not my name."
"It's what everyone calls you."
"Of course I have no beard. I'm too young to grow one."
Roderick snorted. "You're twenty‑two."
"Young. For a beard."
Torvin laughed. "My beard is older than you."
"That's not something to brag about."
"It is when you can't grow one."
Gregor cleared his throat. "You know what they say about beards?"
Everyone turned.
He froze. Then: "They… uh… they keep your face warm?"
Silence.
Kithri flicked an ear. "That's the worst joke I've ever heard."
"I'm working on it."
"Work harder."
Gregor's shoulders sagged. But he didn't leave.
The New Arrivals – Orin's Group
The ship appeared on the horizon at midday. Small, single‑masted, a fishing vessel pressed into passenger service.
Orin stood at the bow, watching Newhope grow larger. Beside him stood a dwarf with a thick beard and a war axe—Riku Sato, who called himself Dain Ironfoot. Behind them, an elf with silver‑blonde hair and moss‑green eyes—Mei Nakamura, who called herself Isolde Silverleaf. A gnome with goggles and a mechanical spider—Nao Suzuki, who called himself Finnian Reed. And a half‑elf with pale skin and tired eyes—Yui Kobayashi, who called herself Selene Ashford.
They had all died in the bombing. They had all been reborn. And they had all survived the fall of Mesos.
"The town's bigger than I expected," Dain said.
"They've been busy."
The ship docked. Orin stepped onto the pier. A young woman with red hair—Elara—was there, directing the unloading of supplies. She looked up. Her eyes widened.
"Orin?"
"Elara."
She walked to him, hugged him briefly, then stepped back. "You're alive."
"Barely."
"You look terrible."
"I feel worse."
She smiled. "Same old Kenta."
He flinched at the name—his old name, the Japanese name, the one he rarely heard anymore—but nodded. "I brought others."
He turned and gestured to the group behind him. One by one, they stepped forward.
"This is Riku. You remember him? Sat in the back, always quiet."
The dwarf grunted. "Dain now."
Elara stared. Her mouth opened. "Riku? I thought you were dead. We searched. We couldn't find you."
"I was in Hesperos. Leading a rebellion."
"A rebellion?"
"Against giants. Long story."
Orin continued. "And Mei."
Isolde stepped forward. Her moss‑green eyes met Elara's. "We met before. In Aelindor. You came to my garden."
Elara's voice caught. "You're alive. You're actually alive."
"I almost wasn't. The demons came. I ran."
"You ran?"
"I abandoned my people." Isolde's jaw tightened. "I'll carry that guilt forever. But I'm here now."
Elara nodded slowly. She didn't judge. She couldn't.
Orin pointed to the gnome. "Nao. You remember him? Always building things."
Finnian adjusted his goggles. "Finnian now. And yes, I still build things." He patted the mechanical spider at his feet. "This one's new."
Elara laughed—a short, surprised sound. "Nao. We thought you died in the evacuation."
"I almost did. But I found a boat."
"A boat?"
"A small one. It leaked. But it floated."
And finally, Orin gestured to the half‑elf. "Yui."
Selene stepped forward. Her eyes were hollow, her magic long gone. "I was in a tower. Bound by a spell. The demons broke it. I barely escaped."
Elara stared at her. "Yui. We looked for you. For months."
"I know."
"Why didn't you come to us?"
"I didn't know where you were. And I couldn't cast. I couldn't fight. I was useless."
"You're not useless." Elara grabbed her hands. "You're here. That's what matters."
Selene didn't answer. But she didn't pull away.
Orin cleared his throat. "Edmund Voss. Is he here?"
"He's at the dry dock."
"The dry dock?"
"Building a ship."
Dain laughed. "In this town?"
Elara shrugged. "Beardless Corvin's idea."
"Beardless Corvin?"
"Long story."
The Meeting – Voss and Orin
Voss was knee‑deep in the dry dock, measuring a plank, when Orin found him.
"Edmund Voss?"
Voss looked up. A smile broke across his weathered face. "Prince Orin. I thought I recognized that voice."
"You remember me."
"Of course. You stood beside your father during the negotiation with Lord Voss—that other Voss, not me." He climbed out of the dock and extended a hand. "You helped my people. I don't forget that."
Orin shook it. "You treated my friends well. The fox girl—Talia—she still talks about the books you gave her."
"She deserved better than a cage." Voss's expression softened. "I see you've brought others."
"Survivors. Like us."
"Then they're welcome." Voss glanced at the half‑built galleon. "You know anything about shipbuilding?"
"I know how to follow orders."
"Then follow. We'll find you a hammer."
The Dry Dock – Late Afternoon
Beardless Corvin was explaining the rigging plan to a small crowd. Roderick, Kithri, Isolde, Finnian. Even Selene had wandered over.
"Three masts," Corvin said. "Fore, main, mizzen. Square sails on the fore and main. Lateen on the mizzen."
"What's a lateen?" Kithri asked.
"A triangular sail. For maneuverability."
"You've never built a ship before."
"No."
"But you have blueprints."
"Incomplete blueprints."
Kithri flicked her ears. "So you're making it up as you go."
Corvin looked at her. "I'm filling the gaps with the Serpent's bones. Her curves, her joints, her proportions. I'm measuring everything before it's hauled away."
"That's not experience."
"It's better than nothing."
Gregor shuffled closer. "You know what they say about shipbuilders?"
Kithri sighed. "Please don't."
"They… they really know how to keel a joke."
Dead silence.
Roderick pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gregor."
"I'm trying."
"Try less."
Gregor looked at the ground. "Sorry."
Kithri patted his shoulder. "Stick to swords."
He nodded. But he didn't leave. He stood at the edge, watching, learning.
The Well – Girls' Banter
Celia sat on the edge of the well, a book open in her lap. Miku leaned against the stone. Talia braided her hair. Hikari folded bandages. Rosalind read a letter.
"Torvin's wine is selling," Rosalind said.
"How do you know?"
"Merchant wrote back. First shipment sold out in a week."
Miku whistled. "That's fast."
"It's good wine."
Talia finished her braid. "So we're rich now?"
"We're less poor."
"Same thing."
Celia looked up from her book. "Did you hear about the Goblin Slayer?"
"The one who only takes goblin contracts?" Miku asked.
"He went to clear a nest. Came back with two ogre heads instead."
Hikari paused her folding. "Ogres?"
"Said the information was wrong. Wasn't a goblin nest at all. But he killed them anyway."
Rosalind folded the letter. "How do you kill an ogre alone?"
"He doesn't talk about it. Just dropped the heads on the counter and asked for his payment."
Miku shivered. "That's creepy."
"Effective."
Talia snorted. "At least he's consistent."
Celia stretched. "They say he never takes off his helmet."
"Maybe he's hideous under there."
"Or maybe he's even better looking and that's why he hides."
The girls laughed.
Gregor walked past. He paused. "You know what they say about ogres?"
Miku groaned. "Gregor, no."
"They… they have layers?"
"That doesn't even make sense."
"I'm aware."
He kept walking.
The girls stared after him.
"He's trying," Hikari said.
"He's terrible at it."
"But he's trying."
The Evening – Supper
Mira's stew again. The long table was crowded now—the original class, the Black Knight survivors, the new arrivals. Orin's group sat at one end, quiet, watching.
Voss raised his cup.
"To new friends."
"To new friends," the others echoed.
Elara sat beside Isolde. "I still can't believe you're here."
"Neither can I."
"We looked for you. After the evacuation. We thought you'd died in the Silverwood."
Isolde stared at her bowl. "I almost did. But I ran."
"You survived."
"I ran," she repeated. "While others burned."
Elara didn't push. She just sat in silence.
Selene ate slowly, her eyes distant. Finnian fed a piece of bread to his spider. Dain drank.
Gregor sat at the end of the table, alone. He stared at his stew.
Roderick sat beside him. "You're quiet."
"I'm thinking."
"About what?"
"About jokes. And why they don't land."
Roderick shrugged. "You're forcing it."
"How else do you learn?"
"You don't. You just become comfortable with silence."
Gregor looked at him. "That's depressing."
"That's honest."
They ate in silence.
The Dock – Night
Orin stood at the edge of the dry dock, looking at the galleon's skeleton.
"It's ambitious," Dain said.
"He's ambitious."
"Think it'll float?"
Orin watched the stars reflect off the half‑built hull. "I hope so."
"You hope?"
"That's all any of us have now."
They stood in silence. The waves lapped at the pier. Newhope slept.
End of Chapter One Hundred Twelve