Pork Kraken - the trade capital of Sanctum.

  That’s what they called it. The youngest of the Realms of Sanctum, Port Kraken, hosted the only safe and established port on the Eastern seaboard. Ophir hosted a healthy trade city in Setesh, but Port Kraken had something that none of the other towns and cities on the coast had.

  A direct line to the Port of Lubri in Avalon, and safe ocean passage between the two continents.

  Some legends say that ocean-going vessels once sailed the whole of Sanctum, carrying people and trade goods up and down the mainland coast and across the sea to the many cities and villages of the mystic island realm. It was a golden age for the people of Sanctum. Cities rose, cultures thrived. Then something happened.

  The Wavebreaker died.

  Or vanished.

  Rumors flooded the markets just as death flooded the sea. Creatures that were once held under the sway of the Lord of the Ocean ran amok in the trade lanes. Tempests, torrents, and storms brought destruction to the shores. Ships and towns were destroyed. Sailors, passengers, and shipwrights were killed. Trade goods sank to the bottom of a dying sea.

  Waters that once provided both rich travel and trade were now filled with monsters.

  It was only through the magic of the ancients of Avalon, coupled with the command of the sea-dwelling people of the Incirrata, that the sea was called to calm. But even they were not equal to the power of the Wavebreaker himself.

  It was called The Path.

  A narrow stretch of calm water between Avalon and the other Realms of Sanctum. It was the only passage clear of the denizens of the deep. Forces mustered on the Mainland of Sanctum in what would become Port Kraken to aid in the endeavor. Some said there were dealings with beings beyond the reach of the Parliament of Regency that were called upon to secure The Path. Those who bore witness to such dealings were long gone, but superstition and myth ruled the seafarers of Sanctum’s waterways.

  At this moment, the seaport was filled with activity as men and women scoured the alleyways and streets in search of a Vidria dwarf. A man hefted a box off a cart and handed it off to another.

  “...they say it cost the Incirrata their ocean homes, it did. It was the Avalonians who were to salvage the sea.”

  “You ever wonder if maybe they could just, I dunno, cast a spell and clear the water?”

  “Who knows? Wouldn’t surprise me.”

  He tapped on a crate with an iron crowbar and listened to it.

  A woman’s stern voice broke the conversation.

  “You able to hear people inside crates now, Mister Glowacki?”

  Glowaki, startled by the comment, stood up straight as he instantly recognized the voice.

  “No, Mayor Shele!”

  “I’d hate to think we lost our fugitive because of the actions of one dock worker. You have been thorough in checking these crates, haven’t you?”

  The second man stepped up to intercede as his partner faltered. He pulled his knit cap from off his unruly mop of hair and held it in his hands.

  “We’ll get ‘em all checked, Ma’am. You shouldn’t have to be down here worried about all of this. We’ll do it right. Ya have my word.”

  Danae Shele looked at the two men standing before her and snorted derisively at them both. Her gray eyes betrayed little emotion beyond distrust and distaste. She narrowed them for a moment. Her lips formed a tiny, thin line as she pressed them together.

  “Very well. Nothing moves off of these docks without being checked.”

  Glowaki’s eyes widened at the comment. His partner slapped him on the shoulder with his cap.

  “The Captains will be none-too-pleased with the delay of goods, Mayor …”

  She locked eyes with the second man.

  “They’ll be less pleased if the Avalonian Empress ceases trade with us altogether because we let a mass murderer through our lines.”

  Movement and conversations on the docks stopped for a moment at the comment. Three heavy heartbeats passed as the weight of the words passed down the docks. A wave of whispers returned.

  Danae rubbed the side of her nose with her thumb. She nodded once at the dock worker, then turned and walked away, a study in fastidious blues and grays. Her left thumb rubbed absently at the ring on her finger as she departed.

  As the Mayor’s booted feet left the docks, a cacophony of voices erupted up and down the line. Echoes of her words and assumptions about what it might mean to all of them if she were right.

  From outside the wave of busy activity, Tulok leaned on the edge of the rail of the ship and watched as the figure of Mayor Shele walked away. She was a formidable woman. Her name had graced reports from Port Kraken for at least twenty years. Demanding, but fair, had been the consensus.

  Like the Radiant Lord.

  He grunted a little at the thought and then turned his red eyes to search the docks for familiar faces or vestments. He assumed that someone would wait for them when they arrived. However, with the chaos going on, he wondered if anyone could reach the pier where they were docked to deliver a message.

  “Are we going? We’re going, right?”

  Isolde asked from beside him. Her green eyes glittered with excitement as she searched the docks.

  Tulok inhaled deeply and sighed.

  “In time, yes.”

  Something nagged at the back of his mind, whispering suggestions of how he could simply clear the docks with a bellow. He silenced it with a frown.

  “What is happening on the docks? Why is everything so crowded?”

  Tromping back up the gangplank was Captain Salacia, followed by an armored figure in a tabard depicting a red Phoenix ascending on a field of white and silver. Isolde had seen the sigil in the past and heard of the Order to which it belonged.

  The Order of Valor.

  It was the only unified body of armed individuals that covered every realm of Sanctum. From the northern reaches of the ice flows to the salt hearths of Setesh, and across the waters to Avalon, the Order of Valor stood as mortalkind’s statement to the remains of the Universe: We Will Survive Together. The Order took no sides in governments and enlisted equally from the ranks of all deities and races.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  If the Order were involved, was this matter larger than we had thought?

  Tulok stood a little taller as the Order Knight stepped aboard the Fortune’s Ferry. Of all the deities in Sanctum, only the Radiant Lord held no position or membership within their ranks. Even the Lord Wanderer occasionally sent one of His Champions to defend some cause or bear witness for the Order. For some members of the Radiant faith, it was a point of contention. Some saw it as a point of pride that the Radiant Lord refused to allow his people to divide their attention and callings; others silently remarked that it was proof of a jealous god.

  The knight, a woman with sandy-gold hair and weathered, tanned skin, paused in her step a moment upon seeing the orc priest. Her right hand edged slightly toward the hilt of her weapon, then her gaze fell on the golden icon of the Radiant Lord. Her eyebrow twitched, and she spoke with a careful tone.

  “Your… Radiance.”

  Isolde watched the two exchange guarded glances. Immediately, she smiled brightly at the other armored woman and stepped forward, extending her hand in greeting.

  “Hi there! I’m Isolde duAvalonne, and this is Father Tulok. Is everything all right?”

  The Captain lifted her hand to her mouth and coughed to politely hide the laugh that tried to break free at Isolde’s actions.

  The Order knight blinked and stared at Isolde, then carefully took the young woman’s hand into her own and shook it firmly.

  “We are looking for a fugitive.”

  She continued to stare at Isolde, then over at Tulok, then back to the Wandering Knight. For a moment, she wondered if someone was playing a prank on her. The pair was not what she expected to find.

  “So are we!”

  Isolde continued to smile and shake the other woman’s hand.

  Tulok placed a large hand on Isolde’s shoulder.

  “I believe that is the point, Isolde.”

  Isolde’s brow knit together a moment of confusion, then she nodded.

  “Right. That would make sense.”

  The Captain turned her bemused eyes to the Order Knight.

  “Satisfied? I am fairly certain that the man you are looking for is not on the same ship as the two who sailed after he departed Lubri looking for him.”

  She turned and whistled to her crew, not waiting for an answer.

  “Get this haul moving, we need to turn this around in 12 hours!”

  She turned back to the Order Knight.

  “The Lady thanks you for your diligence in this matter. I am certain you can ask His Radiance for the details that you seek.”

  She nodded her head and, without waiting for a reply, walked off toward her cabin.

  “Forgive the exchange, Ser …” Tulok asked the Order Knight.

  “Rodili. Corporal Rodili of the Order of Valor, your Radiance. If you and Ser …”

  Isolde continued to smile widely.

  “Isolde.”

  “If you and Ser Isolde would be so kind as to accompany me? We have some questions that only you can answer.”

  Both Tulok and Isold nodded in agreement.

  “Of course.”

  Tulok had expected to be met by someone at the docks, but not by a representative from the Order.

  Two canvas bags were dropped by Tulok’s feet. The deckhand tapped his breast quickly and darted back to the cargo that begged to be unloaded. Tulok glanced down at the bags and up once more. Isolde stood next to him, waving back at the deckhand.

  “Thanks!”

  Isolde remembered standing on the deck of a ship less than a year ago and looking out at Port Kraken for the first time. Reynard stood beside her then. His eyes were dark, his jaw set as he gazed on the land before them. They had both carried a heavy weight on their hearts as they departed Avalon for the Mainland. Losing Council Whitebrooke shrouded their souls with grief. Family, friends, and others were lost in what seemed a senseless slaughter on Isolde’s wedding day. Reynard had taken Isolde as his squire to ease their mourning, hoping to find a path through the darkness for them both. That path had led them to the Mainland, on what should have been a simple delivery errand.

  It had become so much more than that.

  Isolde’s bright smile faltered for a moment as the memories washed over her, like the waves of the ocean upon which their ship sat. Council Whitebrooke, her home, was gone. Nathaniel Widukind, her husband of mere moments, and Reynard’s heartsworn, had died in her arms.

  Reynard would meet his own end in Deneb-aal. Darker thoughts filled Isolde’s mind.

  How many times has the mainland tried to kill me?

  Another fatherly voice filled her mind with their own counter.

  How many joys has it brought you?

  Her mood softened at that, and she nodded.

  True, for as many tears and heartaches that I’ve been through, the Mainland and its inhabitants have also brought me laughter, joy, and friendship.

  Isolde’s eyes slid to the massive figure of Father Tulok at her side. The orc priest had been her companion, her friend, and her salvation since rescuing her from the dunes of Setesh. They were joined in duty and bound in Oath to each other in ways that no one would ever understand.

  Tulok caught Isolde staring up at him. He frowned a little and glanced around uncomfortably. He cleared his voice.

  “Shall we?”

  “Huh? Oh! Ya!”

  Isolde shook her head and cleared her thoughts. Refocusing on the task at hand, she bent down and grabbed the loops on both canvas bags. She hefted them both up with little strain.

  “Where to?”

  Corporal Rodili blinked and paused, watching the pair.

  “Down the docks to the Salt Minister’s office, if you please?”

  Without further exchange, Isolde swung one bag over her left shoulder and lifted the other with her right hand. She shifted the weight a moment, testing it for balance.

  “Isolde, please use your other shoulder.”

  Tulok frowned, which led her to roll her eyes and switch.

  Rodili watched the woman walk down the plank, nodding to the dockhands with a welcome smile, as comfortable in her step as one born to it. After a few quick exchanges between the knight and the workers, a deep voice sounded out a word and a long note that began a song. As she passed each station, another group of workers joined in the round, and the tedious work of checking crates and shifting loads suddenly lightened in weight and worry.

  The Path is dark and lonely

  The Ocean’s lost its sheen

  But on this night, I’ll brave the waters

  And sail the Kraken Queen

  I am the Fleet

  I am the Fleet

  I am the Fleet

  The Wavebreaker’s gone away away

  The Storms no longer hold

  There’s more to risk tonight

  Than Agelian gold

  I am the Fleet

  I am the Fleet

  I am the Fleet

  A host of ships docked and waiting

  Ready to chance the sea

  But it was Captain Faubert

  That took the risk for ye

  I am the Fleet

  I am the Fleet

  I am the Fleet

  So keep your sailors home this eve

  And light a candle bright,

  Dale Faubert sails The Path for us

  He is The Fleet tonight.

  Corporal Rodili stood next to Father Tulok and watched as the Champion of the Wandering Lord made her way through the tangle on the docks. In her wake, the wash of frustration and the weight of despair washed clean.

  “How?”

  Tulok’s eyes smiled warmly as he patted the Order Knight's shoulder gently with his massive hand.

  “She’s Isolde.”