"Hold on just a bit longer. We're almost there," the bronze-skinned girl murmured as she guided the horse bearing Siv Grace. Despite her illness, the princess consort had insisted on riding. The people of Shahani rarely used palanquins; even horses remained something of a novelty here. The sun blazed mercilessly overhead, its harsh light and heat forcing the frail young woman to squint against the glare. Her maid had offered to shield her with an umbrella, but Siv had refused. "Lydia, I am now the Princess Consort of Shahani. I cannot allow the people to witness such weakness."

  She pressed her cracked lips together, a flutter of regret stirring in her heart.

  The Triumphal Way stretched interminably before them. The journey from Reef Keep to Ctiton Palace alone had nearly exhausted her reserves, yet the moment she arrived, without even a chance to recover, Wally had urged her onward. The periphery of Ctiton Palace teemed with humanity—well-wishers and spectators alike packed so densely that not even a drop of water could slip through the throng. Those of means clutched exotic blooms purchased at extortionate prices from florists, tearing the petals to scatter them in celebration. The less affluent made do with freshly harvested seaweed or seafood as their tribute. More than once, Siv had found herself crowned with strands of marine flora.

  "Even if my old, crotchety father remarried, it wouldn't be this extravagant."

  The populace's excitement was hardly mysterious. Since Prince Wally Laren Ctiton's declaration to send forces against Cynthia and oppose Godma, public discourse had erupted like a powder keg. The islanders' antipathy toward the Godmanese was long-standing—a sentiment shared across all Seven Isles of the Western Sea. Before the south's unification, the islanders' commercial partners, aside from their fellow Seven Isles, consisted solely of the free trading city-states of Brin Isle and Tolin Isle, along with Tangabul at the mainland's southwestern extremity. When Tangabul fell under Godman provincial rule, the empire levied punitive import duties on all maritime commerce. This financial burden left Western Sea inhabitants seething with impotent rage, while rampant piracy further crippled their economic stability. Everyone recognized that ninety percent of marauding pirates were Godmanese—former Tangabul residents.

  Now, at last, they possessed a pretext—legitimate grounds to chastise Godma. Though lacking the martial prowess to directly challenge Godma's formidable legions, they could still inflict painful losses upon the Southerners. One hundred and twenty-one warships now anchored at Sailhaven Port: one hundred belonged to Shahani's formal navy, while the remainder consisted of local privateers and volunteer vessels from the six sister island nations. The valiant and shrewd Prince Wally commanded them, astride his mount at the vanguard.

  Fifteen hundred feet behind them, yet the Triumphal Way remained less than half-traversed. The thoroughfare descended in an unbroken line from palace to port, offering no respite from the elements. A pounding headache hammered at Siv's temples. "Do you need help getting off your horse, my lady?" Lydia asked loudly.

  "No, I'm perfectly fine," Siv retorted with a reproachful glance. The roadside swarmed with onlookers, and she refused to betray how desperately she clung to the saddle, fighting against collapse. While the prince's military leadership inspired unanimous approbation, the princess consort's presence provoked more complex reactions. A sickly wife accompanying her husband to war was widely considered an ill omen on the mainland. Fortunately, the maritime folk's celebratory fervor largely overshadowed such concerns, though Siv still intercepted puzzled and disapproving glances as she passed.

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  A burly figure wrapped in a headscarf and brandishing an enormous eel forced his way through the multitude. The creature, nearly three feet in length, glistened with a slick coating of what might have been seawater or sweat—or both. "A prime specimen!" he bellowed toward Wally. "May victory attend your voyage, my prince!" The eel's mouth gaped and sealed repeatedly, its sinuous body contorting wildly.

  Siv failed to catch Wally's response. (Even now, I struggle to comprehend it. When I requested to accompany him to sea, he neither admonished me nor displayed significant anger. Though I can plainly see he has no desire for my presence. This man remains an enigma—utterly impenetrable to me.)

  Somehow, the writhing eel found itself abruptly propelled onto Siv's person. The princess consort recoiled in shock, releasing the reins to grasp the thrashing creature now slithering across her torso. The eel, equally startled, twisted and snapped, leaving viscous trails across her abdomen and chest. "Remove it immediately!" Siv shrieked in panic. "Lydia! Hurry!"

  With practiced composure, the maid relieved her mistress of the slimy creature, returning it to its owner. "The prince says you're quite fond of eels, my lady," the man grinned broadly. "Yes, absolutely enchanted by them," Siv confirmed with an awkward nod. Glancing down at herself, she tentatively touched the mucous residue on her bodice, uncertain whether it originated from the eel or its handler. "This gown is utterly ruined."

  "The ship carries an ample supply of fresh attire," Lydia remarked, having overheard the complaint. "Or perhaps... you might reconsider this expedition altogether and return to the comforts of Reef Keep?" She regarded Siv with a meaningful look. "The opportunity still exists."

  "No, my decision stands unchanged," Siv replied, averting her face to conceal any trace of wavering resolve.

  Finally, the harbor materialized before them. Innumerable seabirds wheeled above the shoreline, their ceaseless movements filling the sky. Among the assembled warships, one vessel commanded attention. This colossal four-decked leviathan required over a hundred oarsmen. Its upper hull gleamed with inlaid ivory spiral whale bones, while its prow featured a magnificent spiral tusk measuring nearly fifty-nine feet in length. "Behold the Narwhal!" Lydia exclaimed, uncharacteristic excitement coloring her voice. "They say Prince Wally commissioned it specifically for this campaign." Siv marveled at this unprecedented animation from her typically reserved attendant.

  "Henris Weber Ian! The Oceanfast!" Wally called out to a powerfully built elder who awaited them. The weathered mariner stood with arms folded across his broad chest, eyes narrowed as he observed the approaching prince. After dismounting, Wally clasped Henris's hand in greeting. "Prince," the bearded seafarer acknowledged with a smile. "Does the great vessel meet with your approval?"

  "Approval? It transcends my most ambitious expectations. However," Wally's smile faltered momentarily, "I must insist you release your grip, Henris. My hand verges on pulverization."

  The old man's laughter boomed across the harbor. "You've accomplished something remarkable here. I never imagined we could construct a vessel of such magnitude." He proceeded toward the pier, the elder following close behind. "Should I dismount and accompany them?" Siv leaned down to consult her maid. "Most definitely, my lady," Lydia replied, her gaze fixed upon the Narwhal with undisguised admiration. "We should all get a good look at that big thing, because from the time we leave Shahani until we get to those little fishing villages west of Cynthia, that's going to be our home."

  "I harbor absolutely no regrets entrusting this vessel's construction to your expertise, Henris," Prince Wally declared, rapping his knuckles against the hull. A rich, resonant echo answered his gesture. "Those spiral whale bones," he indicated the decorative elements soaring overhead, seemingly beyond reach, "from where did you procure them? When I issued that specification, it was intended as a challenge. Historically, vessels adorned with spiral whale bones constitute an exceptional rarity."