Before long, the group arrived at the pier. The salty sea breeze was stronger here, carrying with it the cries of gulls and the scent of algae. The docks stretched out in every direction like a spider's web grasping the edge of the ocean. Sailors and dockhands were already hard at work, and the bustling energy of the port filled the air.
Katarina, Kassia, and the children walked unhurriedly toward their designated spot. The walk took about half an hour. The twins had already suppressed most of their emotions over the painful farewell. Their eyes were no longer so red.
During the walk, the ever-chatty Grace—and even the usually quiet Grey—had asked their mother multiple times why Kaguya couldn't stay with them. Katarina gave them detailed explanations about the dangers of their journey, convincing them that real friends should never knowingly put each other in danger. That seemed to ease their troubled hearts.
Soon, they approached a remote dock where Captain Sinbad and his crew awaited. The ship itself still rested in its enchanted bottle, which Sinbad held carefully. His crew was a ragtag group that wouldn't have looked out of place in a gang of bandits. Most notable was the parrot perched on the captain's shoulder.
"Whistle, whistle! What a beauty! Just right for some fun!" the parrot squawked as soon as he spotted Katarina.
His voice was so naturally coarse that it sounded like any of the sailors had spoken. One could only imagine how often the bird had heard such vulgar phrases in the company of these... ahem, law-abiding mariners.
Noticing Kassia's meaningful smirk and the innocent yet intrigued gaze of the little girl, the parrot nearly shed his feathers in fear. More than anything, he was terrified of the small girl. Though Grace hadn't understood what the parrot had said and wasn't angry, her curious stare—as if she wanted to dissect the bird just to figure out how it could talk without lips—was enough to silence even the boldest of feathered creatures.
"Ahem, forgive the animal. He's an idiot and just repeats what he hears. I assure you, such language won't happen again," Sinbad apologized.
"No matter. Get the ship ready. We sail immediately," Kassia ordered, continuing to play the role of head of the family.
"Might I see the gold coins first?" Sinbad asked politely.
"You want the second payment before we've even set foot on board? You'll get it once we're far enough from shore," Katarina replied in the haughty tone of a spoiled noblewoman.
"As you wish."
The captain lifted the bottle and uncorked it. It was a mystery how the ship managed to squeeze through the narrow neck without damaging the fragile glass. But within moments, a majestic three-deck schooner stood before them, weathered by countless storms over its long history.
"Allow me to present my pride, my love, and my faithful companion—the Violet. This 400-ton vessel was outfitted thirty-five years ago in the port city of Riverdale for hunting sea monsters. We've been inseparable ever since. On this beauty, we've crossed seven seas and two oceans. We've sailed to Pratos—the Continent of Religions, the Neutral Continent, and of course, made it to Nightingale and Velnora. We've rounded Storm Cape, passed through the Bay of Losses, and battled sea monsters more times than I can count."
As Sinbad spoke of his schooner, his voice brimmed with pride and nostalgia. These were likely his first sincere words to the family. The Violet truly looked magnificent. Its hull bore the marks of countless adventures, each one only adding to the ship's aura of reliability.
Under Captain Sinbad's command served seven seasoned sailors who looked like hardened drunks, and three adolescent trainees. At first glance, this seemed insufficient for ocean crossings and monster hunts, which required sizable crews for sailing, maintenance, and carcass processing.
But Sinbad preferred only loyal, strong, and capable subordinates—men he had trained himself. He distrusted hiring port hands. From bitter experience, he knew that lawlessness ruled the open seas. It was all too common for the worst betrayals to occur where no one would be held accountable. Who would take the blame if someone "fell overboard while drunk" or was "snatched by a siren"?
Sinbad had once been in just such a situation. His own first mate, after serving loyally for two years, betrayed him, aiming to claim the Violet. It hadn't taken much. One night, when most trusted crewmen had gone to bed, the first mate and his accomplice found Sinbad asleep, knocked him out with an oar, and tossed his body into the sea.
By morning, the crew had discovered their captain missing. No blood was found. The only trace was a collection of empty rum bottles in his cabin. One sailor—the accomplice—claimed he had seen the captain climbing the mast in a drunken stupor the previous night. The matter was quickly closed, and the first mate took command of the ship.
It became a famous story among seafarers, often told drunkenly in port taverns. Kassia had learned of this infamous tale during her background checks. Yet the mystery remained of how, three days later, Sinbad had been found rowing a lifeboat toward his ship, rum bottle still in hand.
Since that betrayal, he only sailed with a small, trusted crew—the very men Katarina and her family now evaluated.
The three youths were ordinary deckhands. Two others stood out. One was a short, narrow-eyed man in his thirties, clearly from the ancient and mysterious Empire of the Six Pillars—one of the four great empires alongside the Magical and Roman Empires. He served as the pilot. The other was a plump cook who bizarrely wore a frying pan on his head.
After assessing the crew and reaching her conclusions, Katarina signaled everyone to board. As they ascended the gangplank, Sinbad gallantly offered his hand to assist the lady and the children. But Katarina, who had recently developed a strong aversion to being touched by men, ignored the gesture. The children innocently followed their mother's example, leaving the captain awkwardly rubbing his nose in embarrassment.
The Violet's deck was spotless. At its center stood a massive wheel. Coiled ropes and neatly secured masts flanked it. Weapons crates and supply containers were easily accessible for emergencies. The ship was impressively tidy—though the lingering smell of rum wafting up from the hold reminded the passengers of the company they'd be keeping.
Grey and Grace watched in awe as the crew swiftly and precisely followed the captain's orders during the departure. The air buzzed with the stomp of boots, the creak of ropes, and the captain's shouts.
Sinbad wielded his saber like a pointer, directing his men where to place equipment. To the twins, it felt like stepping into one of the legendary tales their mother used to tell them at bedtime.
"Cast off the moorings!""Raise the anchor!""Let loose the lines!""Turn her about!""Set course for open waters!""Rowers, starboard side!""Hold!""All together now!""One, two! One, two!""Course southeast!""Rowers, port side!""Hold!""Raise oars!""Hoist the sails!""Full speed ahead—for valor, fortune, and adventure!"
Kassia stood at the stern beside Katarina, who wore an uncharacteristically somber expression. In three months of travel, she had never shown such deep emotion. Occasionally, hints of melancholy would flicker across her face, but she quickly masked them with calm composure. Only now, as the continent of Alaz receded into the distance, did Katarina allow herself to fully feel the weight of loss.
For the first time, she acknowledged that she had lived four years in the Roman Empire completely alone. After a single night of passion, her husband had never again tried to touch her, speak to her sincerely, or even care for his children. Memories of her life on this continent flooded her mind.
Deep down—against all logic and reason—she had hoped that Adam would chase after her, apologize, and swear to protect them at all costs, as any true father and husband should.
But no. He had abandoned her. He had betrayed her. No—he had never truly loved her.
"Milady, are you alright?" Kassia asked gently, concern evident in her voice.
"Tell me, Kassia. Am I intelligent? Am I strong? Am I beautiful?" Katarina asked quietly.
"What? What kind of question is that? I don't know about intelligence or strength, but you're certainly the most beautiful woman in the world," Kassia replied, genuinely puzzled.
"Then tell me, Kassia—why did my husband betray me? I don't believe in that prophecy nonsense. Rulers don't think like commoners. And despite his flaws, Adam is an exceptional ruler."
"I personally watched him effortlessly navigate the nobility and manipulate the Roman Senate without ever straying from my side. His eyes burned with desire and love—I'm sure of it. At that time, I was a step away from the realm of the Celestials. He couldn't have hidden his true feelings from me so skillfully."
"I observed him for a year before finally allowing him to touch me. He was so obsessed with me that if I had asked him to betray the empire, he would've done so without hesitation."
"Then why, after that one night, did he stop noticing me? Why didn't he ever try to touch me again? Was I so terrible in bed that he lost interest? Damn it—it was my first time! I'm certain my appearance wouldn't have made him lose interest so quickly. So why? Just why?"
"I'm an excellent ally. I'm beautiful. I can play political games. Then why did he avoid me from that night on? Black hair? Grey? Dissatisfaction? Prophecy? Nothing is more important than advantages—and I could've given him everything he ever wanted."
"I'm a Celestial! Removing Claudius and Aurelius? Easy. Rising in the Senate? Simple. Just having a beautiful wife by his side would've elevated his status. So why was I left alone in that icy palace?"
By the end of her monologue, Katarina's fury and sorrow had given way to confusion. Another tear slid down her cheek.
There was a long pause. What could Kassia say? She had no answers. She honestly thought Adam was an idiot—but she knew he wasn't.
Neither woman noticed the widening eyes of the pilot and the captain, who had quietly overheard parts of the conversation.
The Violet sailed farther and farther into the sea, leaving the continent of Alaz behind.
Back in Stormdale, atop a rooftop, a lone figure in a yellow dress sat quietly, face buried in her knees. She cried softly.
"Goodbye, Anna. No... goodbye, Grace. Goodbye, Katarina. Goodbye, Grey. Goodbye, Kassiy—the neko servant of the 'Child of Prophecy'... I will always love you," the figure whispered, clutching a small blue stone tightly in her hand.