Chương 113: The Port Without a Flag

The Black Isles were not a kingdom. That was their greatest pride. They floated between the sea routes like pieces of night no one had managed to claim. Too close to the demonic kingdom to be protected by the elves. Too far from human shores to obey human laws. Too unstable for the beastfolk to establish lasting clans there. So they had become something else. A place where no one asked where a cargo came from, as long as it arrived sealed. A place where names could be rented by the week.

A place where a corpse could leave port with more papers than a prince. A place where demons, humans, banished elves, clanless beastfolk, and things that fit into no race at all learned to breathe the same air while keeping one hand near a weapon. The elven ship entered the bay at dusk. No one fired. That was a bad sign. Good ports warned strangers with chains, guards, and flags. The port of the Black Isles had no flags. Only red lanterns, wet docks, twisted towers, and silhouettes that watched without seeming to.

Elyra stood near the prow. Her hood covered her hair, but not enough to hide her posture. Zayn had told her it was useless. She had replied that a royal symbol half-hidden was sometimes better than a royal symbol displayed or erased. He had smiled. Not because he agreed. Because she was beginning to speak like someone who had understood that caution could be a blade. The ship bumped softly against the dock. A thin man with yellow eyes and filed teeth was waiting for them beneath a red lantern.

He had no clear scent. Not human. Not fully demon. Not beastfolk. Maybe a mix. Maybe a commercial mistake that had grown to adulthood. He bowed to Elyra. Not low enough. Then to Zayn. Much less.

"Welcome to Flagless. No crime committed here has officially taken place, no debt is recognized without a witness, and no death will be refunded after the tide." Zayn stepped onto the dock. The wood groaned beneath his boots.

"Charming." The man smiled.

"We do our best." Elyra stepped down in turn. Lumeï, hidden beneath her cloak, whispered near her neck,"I hate this place. Even the lights lie." Zayn heard him.

"They adapt." Elyra shot him a look.

"That doesn't make it better." The thin man inclined his head.

"I'm Dorran. Broker of routes, seller of silences, retriever of things the powerful would rather not have lost."

"You talk a lot," Zayn said.

"Here, talking is free until someone asks for the truth." The scythe was not visible. But the shadow in Zayn's left hand moved. Dorran saw it. His smile lost a tooth of confidence. Not completely. He was a professional.

"You're looking for a route east." Elyra answered before Zayn.

"And a man." Dorran turned his yellow eyes toward her.

"Everyone is looking for a man. Dead, alive, missing, regretted, or guilty enough to be worth a lot." Zayn took a step forward.

"Elvarin Soreth." The port seemed to keep living. Sailors loaded crates. A woman without a shadow laughed in front of a tavern. Two demons played with carved bones. Black gulls fought above a rooftop. But around Dorran, something stopped. A breath. A glance. A reflex. He knew the name. Zayn smiled.

"There." Dorran slowly raised his hands.

"A very elegant elven name. Many elves have very elegant names." Elyra stepped forward as well. Her voice was calm. Too calm for someone still carrying the exhaustion of the previous night.

"He was extracted from Aelvaris by a demonic network. He is alive. He is useful. And he is afraid." Dorran looked at the princess more carefully. Then his smile returned.

"Ah. You aren't just an elven noblewoman." Zayn said,"Wrong direction."

"Sorry?"

"You're looking at her like a value. Look at me like a risk." Dorran turned his eyes to him. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. This time, he obeyed. He looked at the cracked half-mask. The marks beneath the dried blood. The left hand where something black was waiting to become a scythe. The way people on the dock were already beginning to move away without knowing why. Dorran swallowed.

"I might be able to obtain information."

"You already have it."

"Maybe." Zayn raised his hand. The black skull of the scythe appeared halfway in his palm, without the full shaft, without the full blade. Just the skull. The smoking eye sockets turned toward Dorran.

"Do you want to sell the information first, or your fingers?" the scythe asked. Dorran went very pale. Elyra briefly closed her eyes.

"You said we would avoid starting with terror." Zayn didn't look at her.

"No. You said that. I was listening to something else." Lumeï murmured,"Bad method." The skull replied,"Fast method." Dorran raised his hands higher.

"Velkar-Morne." The name came out quickly. Too quickly. Elyra went tense. Zayn remained still.

"Repeat it."

"Velkar-Morne. The old Black Hothouses. On the margins between the Counters of Ghelkar and the Belly of Ulkar. Officially contaminated. Unofficially used for research no one wants to sign." The scythe's teeth clicked.

"He sings well when his fear is tuned." Zayn asked,"Who holds him?" Dorran hesitated. Mistake. Zayn made the shaft appear. The black skull opened. Dorran spoke at once.

"It's complicated."

"People say that when they want to survive several guilty parties."

"Because it's true!" Dorran stepped back until the red lantern brushed his shoulder.

"The researcher is in a facility tied to organic laboratories. So people will say Voragna. But the transport contracts carry a debt from Ghelkar. So Cassiel has a hand on it. And the information about his extraction passed through black mirrors. So Seryth knew before the crates even left the coast." Elyra murmured,"Three Generals." Zayn smiled.

"Three targets."

"No," she said immediately. He turned his half-mask toward her. She held his gaze.

"Three doors. Not three targets. If you strike all three at once, you'll die before reaching Elvarin." The scythe gave a small laugh.

"She's becoming usefully annoying." Zayn looked at Dorran.

"Route." The broker nodded far too quickly.

"There is a passage. An ash ship leaves before dawn. Not for the official ports. It carries preserved flesh, sealed debts, and two empty coffins toward the coasts of Ghelkar." Elyra frowned.

"Empty coffins?" Dorran shrugged.

"Optimistic buyers sometimes order the packaging before the contents." Lumeï made a disgusted noise. Zayn asked,"Price?" Dorran looked at Elyra.

"An elven royal seal will be enough for two berths, if you agree not to ask questions about the cargo." Elyra reached beneath her cloak. Zayn caught her wrist. Not brutally. Just enough to stop her.

"No." She looked at him.

"We need this route."

"He isn't selling the route. He's selling your name to whoever waits on the other side." Dorran smiled, offended just the right amount.

"I'm a professional." Zayn answered,"Yes. That's why I know you've done it before." The silence returned. On the dock, several silhouettes drew nearer. Not quickly. Not aggressively. Just enough for the air to fill with bad intentions. Elyra noticed. She understood too. Dorran was not alone. He never had been.

"You signaled us," she said. Dorran sighed.

"Princess, you arrived on an elven ship with a man who smells like dead war. The Black Isles signaled you before I even saw your face." A chain dropped behind them. Then another. The exits from the dock were blocked. Men in dark coats appeared on the walkways, armed with short crossbows. Two horned demons stepped out of a warehouse carrying nets engraved with red runes. On the rooftops, three figures in glass masks raised thin blades. Dorran retreated another step.

"Nothing personal. Information about you is worth more than your payment. A partial capture is worth even more." Elyra threw a glance at Zayn. He did not seem surprised. He seemed almost disappointed.

"Partial?" he asked. Dorran gave a nervous smile.

"Alive if possible. In pieces if necessary. The princess intact. You… identifiable." The scythe appeared fully. The dark shaft formed in Zayn's hand. The black skull opened wide, and the blade burst from the cranium with a metallic shriek. All the mercenaries stepped back. One step. No more. They were trained. Zayn sighed.

"Elyra."

"What?"

"You wanted to try a better method." She frowned.

"Now?"

"Yes." A crossbow bolt fired. Zayn cut it without looking. The black skull laughed. Elyra understood. He was giving her the first move. Not out of pure trust. Out of curiosity. As a test. Perhaps also because he wanted to see how far the princess was willing to dirty her hands before speaking of truth again. Elyra inhaled. Then she drew out the royal seal. Dorran shouted,"Don't kill her!" The mercenaries adjusted their weapons. Elyra raised the seal into the red light.

"You want to sell my name?" Her voice carried across the entire dock.

"Very well." Zayn turned his head slightly. Lumeï, beneath her cloak, straightened.

"Elyra…" She continued:"Then start by checking whether it belongs to you." The royal seal lit up. Not white. Pale gold. A ring of light spread across the planks of the dock, passing beneath the mercenaries' boots, beneath the crates, beneath the chains, beneath Dorran's feet. Nothing exploded. No one burned. That was worse. Every person who had heard her royal name and accepted the idea of profiting from it felt a mark of light appear on their tongue. Dorran slapped a hand over his mouth.

"What—" Elyra lowered the seal slowly.

"Royal witness pact. Ancient. Very rarely used." Zayn smiled.

"Explain."

"Anyone who accepted the idea of trading my presence without consent must now publicly declare their first buyer if I ask." Lumeï murmured,"That is legally debatable." Elyra answered without lowering her voice,"Bad methods. I'm getting used to them." The scythe burst into laughter. Zayn looked at Dorran.

"I like that a lot." Dorran tried to step back. The mark on his tongue flared. Elyra fixed her eyes on him.

"Who was meant to receive the information?" Dorran clenched his teeth. Blood ran from his mouth. He resisted for three seconds. Then the pact forced the truth through his throat.

"Secondary counter of Ghelkar… and a mirror with no address." Zayn narrowed his eyes.

"Cassiel and Seryth." Dorran dropped to his knees. The mercenaries began to panic. Not because the princess had injured them. Because she had made them sellable in turn. On the Black Isles, revealing your buyer was sometimes worse than dying. Zayn raised the scythe.

"Now?" Elyra looked at the mercenaries. They were not innocent. None of them. But not all of them were more useful dead. She spoke in a clear voice:"Those who throw down their weapons and give us a route will live. Those who keep their contract will die with it." Zayn looked at her. His smile widened.

"That's almost cruel."

"It's effective."

"Those are often cousins." The first mercenary dropped his crossbow. Then another. Then three more. A demon carrying a red net growled,"Traitors." Zayn moved. The scythe traced a black arc. The red net was cut in two. The demon had time to see the skull turn toward him before the blade shot from the cranium and opened his chest. Another demon charged. Zayn did not simply cut him. He entered his guard, placed a hand on his face, and activated Ruined Time. The gray skin cracked. The horns lost their sheen.

The runes on his armor rusted in a second. The demon screamed. Zayn drove him back with a knee, then slit his throat. Zayn's collarbone pulsed. Not strongly. Enough. [Soul Force absorbed: +2.] [Current Soul Force: 148 → 150.] The notification vanished at once. Zayn exhaled.

"Still crumbs." The scythe replied,"We're heading toward bigger meals. Patience." Elyra pretended not to hear. She dealt with the survivors. Not gently. She had those marked by the pact kneel. One by one, she demanded the names of their buyers, their routes, their caches. Some bled from the mouth. One man tried to cut out his own tongue. Zayn crushed his hand before he could succeed. Elyra did not look away. Not even when the man cried. Not even when Lumeï whispered that it was enough. She continued.

At the end, they had three things. An ash ship. A password to board it. And the certainty that Velkar-Morne was not just a place. It was a trap several Generals would leave open because they wanted to see who came to close it. Dorran, kneeling in his own blood, looked up at Elyra.

"You're not as bright as they say, Princess." She looked at him for a long moment. Then answered,"No." She put away the royal seal.

"But I'm still bright enough to know that should bother me." Zayn passed by her.

"It'll pass." She turned a hard look on him.

"I hope not." He gave a small laugh.

"So do I. For now, it's useful." The ash ship left before dawn. Not from the main dock. From a covered canal, between two burned warehouses, beneath a stone arch where black lanterns hung. It had no name painted on the hull. Only a number engraved on an iron plate. Its sails were gray. Its hold smelled of preserved meat, salt, ritual metals, and something sweeter, almost floral, that recalled flesh laboratories. Elyra boarded without speaking. Zayn followed her. Dorran did not come with them.

He had given enough information to live. Zayn had left him with his fingers. Elyra had noticed. She had not thanked him. That was better. The ship's captain, a demoness with a face covered in bone piercings, watched them board. She saw Zayn. Then Elyra. Then the black skull of the scythe appearing just enough in the shadows to smile. The captain spat into the sea.

"I do not transport war." Zayn answered,"Too bad. You just accepted it." She was about to reply. Elyra placed the password on the deck table.

"Three empty coffins." The captain froze. Then she looked at her crew.

"Raise the chains." Zayn turned toward Elyra.

"Three coffins?" She answered,"Dorran said the ship was carrying two. Now they expect three." He smiled.

"For whom?" She looked east.

"For those who still think we're cargo." The scythe murmured,"She's really learning very badly." Zayn leaned against the railing. The demonic continent was not yet visible. But already, the air had changed. Heavier. Warmer. Older in its cruelty. Far behind them, the Black Isles closed again inside the mist. Ahead, the coasts of Ghelkar were waiting. And somewhere beyond, in the black hothouses of Velkar-Morne, Elvarin Soreth was perhaps discovering that demons do not put chains on tools to punish them.

They do it so they do not lose them before use.