The Lord of the Seas - An Isekai Progression Fantasy [ Currently on Volume 2 ]

Jesse and Velena watched from the stone benches lining the edge of the training yard as Rosalia panted, flat on her back against the dirt, her chest rising and falling with the weight of exhaustion.

Rosalia's fiery red hair clung to her face, soaked with sweat, her arms sprawled out at her sides for the training session had been wrung out of her completely. Even after her victory over Celina, the Princess of Easthaven did not allow herself to relax for a second. She continued to train every other day while keeping up with her studies and duties of Easthaven's Royal Family.

Across from her, Lukas simply crossed his arms, his expression calm but his eyes sharp, his expectations unrelenting. But he was also proud of how far she had come.

"She's really something," Jesse murmured, his golden eyes tracking the girl's every movement, even as she lay there struggling to catch her breath.

The young dragonborn finally understood what Lukas had meant when he said there was no one else like her. Jesse had seen many things, seen strength from dragons that could bring down mountains—but Rosalia was something else entirely.

"She's special," Velena stated, her gaze soft but steady. "But that comes with its own weight."

Jesse nodded. All those who were experienced enough with magic, like Lukas and Jesse could feel it. That strange pull, that resonance. Rosalia wasn't using her own strength. No—the strength within her was something far older than even the dragons themselves. Maybe even older than the Titans themselves.

It was the way she communicated with the force of nature that was Mana itself. She spoke to it. And it spoke back.

Rosalia had begun to accept her ability for what it was: a gift, not a curse. The more she used it, the clearer it became to them that even her gift had its limits. The trembling in her arms, the faint ache in her expression, the way her breathing faltered whenever she pushed too far. It was as if the burden of such a connection was something her body had not yet fully grown into.

"You're getting stronger," Lukas told her, his voice calm but edged with pride as he stepped toward Rosalia and extended a hand to help her up.

Rosalia grasped his hand and let him pull her to her feet, her legs wobbling slightly before she steadied herself. Sweat dripped from her chin as she grinned weakly, meeting Lukas' gaze with stubborn determination.

"I'm not done yet," she protested between pants, her voice rough but resolute.

"I know," Lukas replied, his grin just as sharp. "But you need to rest. You've earned it."

Jesse's gaze softened as he watched Rosalia walk beside Lukas, her steps heavy but her spirit unshaken. He handed her a waterskin which she gracefully accepted. Lukas found that the two of them had grown to become fast friends. He watched them as Jesse reached over to wipe the sweat from Rosalia's brow with a towel and he could not help but smile.

He saw it within them.

In the two younglings, Lukas saw a future where humanity and dragons alike might one day be free.

It was his duty to ensure they would be strong enough to bear the burden of that future.

The day after the graduation ceremony, the morning air was crisp, touched by the faint scent of salt as Lukas, Rosalia, Velena, and Jesse made their way toward the docks of Easthaven.

The streets bustled with the usual life of the port city—traders barking about fresh goods, sailors hauling crates onto ships bearing the sigils of the Merchant Guild. The rising sun glimmered off the masts and sails, a golden sheen dancing atop the gentle waves.

Jesse walked just ahead of Lukas, his hands tucked into his pockets, his stride steady but his gaze distant. Gone was the wide-eyed boy who dreamed of seeing the world beyond Linemall on their search for Rodan.

Jesse had always been smart. He still was. But he had still been a child when they had left Linemall. Now, in that child's place was someone sharper, someone who had seen things that had carved away pieces of his boyhood.

"We've been doing well. The Merchant Guild is growing. And it's growing fast." Jesse finally reported, his voice carrying just enough for the others to hear over the calls of the dockworkers.

Lukas listened carefully, his steps slowing just enough to walk alongside him.

"We travelled with them. To Nozar," Jesse continued, his eyes darkening as memories surfaced. "But we only got as far as the Outer Cities. We even ended up sailing to Khaitish. I have travelled Hiraeth, Lukas. And I have seen what was out there."

His fists clenched as he spoke, his voice tightening.

"I didn't want to believe Lady Kaitlyn when she first told us. I thought she was just trying to scare us. But when I saw it with my own eyes…" Jesse's throat worked, and for a brief moment, his jaw trembled. "Our people. Dragons. Shackled. Chained. Forced to act like animals. Entertainment for the nobles. Gladiators in their pits. Laborers in their mines. Treated like beasts, like their lives didn't matter."

Rosalia, walking just behind them, had gone completely silent. She had always known that the dragons had suffered, that they had been hunted, hated—but hearing it now, in such raw detail, planted something new in her heart.

A quiet, cold weight. The kind that changes people. The kind that erases childlike innocence.

Lukas glanced at her but didn't speak. He wouldn't shield her from this. Not anymore. The world would not be kind to her, and if he tried to protect her from its ugliness, he would only delay the pain and the growth that needed to come with it.

Jesse's voice softened, almost bitter. "We bought back who we could. The few whose masters were willing to let them go for the right price. But some…" He shook his head. "Some wouldn't sell. Some wouldn't even see them as people worth bargaining for. We were just...items to be owned."

He didn't need to explain the rest. Lukas could hear it in his voice.

Jesse had watched dragons, their kin, rot in chains because there was no coin in the world that could buy them their freedom.

They reached the edge of the dock, where the ships of the Merchant Guild loomed large, sails bearing the familiar crest that Jesse himself had created even before they had even left Linemall.

Rosalia finally found her voice, though it was soft and uncertain. "Is it like that…everywhere?"

Jesse didn't answer. He didn't need to. The silence said enough. Though Easthaven did not have a culture of enslaving dragons, that did not mean the rest of Hiraeth did not. In Khaitish and Nozar especially, slave traders ran rampant.

Lukas placed a hand on Rosalia's shoulder, firm but steady. "The world's not fair," he told her quietly. "Remember that, little one. And remember it well."

Rosalia's fingers tightened at her sides, her jaw set. She didn't cry. She didn't look away. She absorbed it, letting the weight of Jesse's words settle into her bones. Because this was her world too. And if she wanted to be worthy of leading it—of shaping it into something better—then she would need to carry that weight, not run from it.

Beneath the deck of the behemoth trading ship, Lukas descended the creaking wooden steps, the distant sway of the vessel rocking beneath his boots. The lanterns along the low ceilings flickered softly, casting long shadows that stretched across the walls as the scent of salt, iron, and something far older filled the air.

And then he saw them.

Dragonborn. Dragons. Wyverns. His own people, scattered across the massive lower deck, resting against wooden crates, gathered in small, quiet circles. Some were bandaged, their wounds still fresh. Some bore the gaunt, hollow expressions of those who had been trapped in chains for far too long.

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Others, younger ones likely born years after the Great War, still clung to scraps of hope as they played among themselves.

It was a sight that struck Lukas to his core.

Standing amongst them, tending to the wounded, offering food and blankets, was Valkari Ishtar. The girl he had once saved from the auction that had been held at the House of Fortunes. When her eyes met his, she paused, as if her breath had caught in her throat. And then she lowered her head, sinking to one knee with practiced grace, her voice soft but heavy with reverence.

"My Lord."

Her words weren't necessary—Lukas still remembered the night she swore fealty to him. He didn't know her well but it seemed like she had not changed her mind on her sudden declaration of loyalty.

As Rosalia stepped carefully beside him, her gaze sweeping across the room filled with silent, watching eyes, Lukas realized that many of the dragons did not yet know him. They eyed him with a mix of wariness and caution, the instinctive response of creatures who had learned to distrust anyone who approached them especially more humans.

Lukas and Rosalia were strangers to them, strangers who they had no reason to trust. He would have to give a reason for him to trust them.

He closed his eyes and he summoned the Legacy that he had inherited. A Legacy that showed to them who he really was.

The Crown of the Lord.

The pale halo formed above his head, its light gentle but undeniable, a soft ring of ethereal silver that pulsed with the weight of his bloodline, the mark of the Dragon Lords. And the moment the dragons laid eyes on it—on him—the atmosphere shifted completely.

A surge of something primal rippled through the room. Lukas could feel it—their collective consciousness brushing against his through their connection established between them. The Crown was a symbol, representing the bridge to their hearts and memories.

And Lukas saw them. He saw those memories, all of them rushing into his head at once. He saw the shackles that had bruised their skin. Saw cages that had confined them. Saw arenas where they had been forced to fight for the amusement of nobles. Saw the cruel hands that had treated them as nothing more than beasts.

He felt their pain. Their exhaustion. Their desperate hope. Without being told, every single one of them—whether strong or broken, proud or afraid—rose to their feet.

And they bowed.

Even those with injuries that should have kept them grounded found the strength to kneel. For the first time in their lives, they were in the presence of a Dragon Lord. Their Dragon Lord. The most powerful of their race, responsible for protecting them and ensuring their safety. For the younglings who had been bred in captivity, the man who now stood before him was no longer just a myth. Now, a reality, standing before them.

Lukas swallowed, steadying his voice as he stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over each and every one of them.

"You're safe now," he said quietly, but his words carried like a promise, weaving through the connection they shared. "It's going to be okay. I promise you all. We will bring you back home. Back to Linemall. Back to our people."

Some of them wept. Others simply lowered their heads further, the tension melting from their shoulders as if they had finally exhaled after years of holding their breath.

Rosalia stood at his side, watching, absorbing it all in silence. It was the first time the human princess truly saw what it meant when Lukas had told her that he was a Dragon Lord of Linemall. The first time she felt the weight of that title.

Then, out of the corner of Lukas' eyes, he saw Valkari's arms wrapped tightly around Jesse; the kind of embrace that lingered—not rushed, not polite, but something more.

Lukas blinked, mildly surprised as he watched Valkari's hands trail up to cup Jesse's face with such tenderness, her thumb brushing against his cheek. And then, with a faint, featherlight kiss, she pressed her lips to his cheek.

It was brief. But it wasn't something easy to miss.

When did this happen? Lukas wondered his gaze narrowing slightly but not in disapproval.

Because he remembered. He remembered how Jesse had reacted when Lukas first saved Valkari. He remembered how angry he had been. The two of them, bound by grudges of their forefathers. Jesse had been furious, seemingly unable to forgive the ancient conflicts that Valkari's bloodline had represented.

That had been a small concern of Lukas when he'd made the decision to leave Jesse in Ilagron Village with Valkari and Velena. He'd hoped they would be able to close the distance between them. And now? The distance between them was gone.

Lukas' attention actually flicked to Rosalia, who had found herself in the company of the younger dragons—playfully circling them, laughing softly as they cautiously crept closer to her. Even a little baby wyvern, no larger than a housecat, tentatively approached; its tiny wings fluttering as Rosalia extended her hand.

Her childlike warmth made them feel safe. There was something about her. Something that calmed the natural wariness the dragons held toward humans. Perhaps it was her honesty. Or maybe it was the fact that, in her heart, she did not yet see them as animals. She saw them as friends.

But then Rosalia's gaze slid to Jesse. And then to Valkari. The easy closeness between them.

Lukas caught the subtle change—the way Rosalia's brows furrowed ever so slightly. The way her lips parted as if she wanted to say something but wasn't sure what. Then, with a spark of something unmistakable—a kind of hesitant but stubborn determination—Rosalia stepped forward and said, a little too loudly:

"Hi there!"

Lukas arched an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tugging upward.

Ah.

Rosalia's timing wasn't subtle, not at all. She was clearly trying to interrupt the moment between the two.

Valkari, drawn out of her quiet moment with Jesse, turned slowly to face the voice that had called her out.

Her eyes scanned Rosalia from head to toe. Lukas immediately saw it—the flicker of rage surfacing within her, the familiar glint that he had first witnessed when they crossed paths back in Ilagron. Her Divinity began to stir, the Draconic Flow pulsing faintly around her as a low, almost inaudible growl rumbled in her throat. He could even see her red scales beginning to appear along her arms.

"She's human," Valkari stated flatly, her voice cold.

Jesse's expression tightened, but before he could say anything, Lukas stepped forward, his voice calm but carrying the weight of authority that could not be ignored.

"Stand down, Valkari." His gaze met hers, unblinking, firm. "She's under my care."

The energy coiled within Valkari slowly settled, though Lukas could feel her reluctance through the Crown's faint connection. She obeyed for she meant what she had said, she saw Lukas as her rightful Lord. But that didn't erase the hostility in the way her jaw clenched or the narrowed suspicion in her eyes.

"Your friend…plays with our children," Valkari muttered, her voice softer now but laced with unspoken tension.

"She does," Lukas replied, watching her carefully. "And they seem to like her."

Valkari glanced toward the baby wyvern that had curled up beside Rosalia's foot and grunted, though she did not challenge him further.

But Lukas understood. He understood all too well where Valkari's hostility came from.

How could he not?

Lukas himself had been the one who pulled her from that hellish auction, where her value was reduced to a number on a placard and the weight of a man's coin purse. Her hatred for humans had been carved into her bones, etched into the deepest parts of her soul. And there was no forgetting who had set her on that path.

Her own brother. Rysenth Ishtar. The name still lingered like iron on Lukas' tongue, a bitter taste he could never quite spit out. Rysenth: the man who had sold her, handed his own sister over to the chains for coin, for status, for self-preservation.

Lukas knew that story hadn't ended. He had unfinished business in Linemall. And Rysenth would have to face the weight of his sins. But he had to be patient. Rysenth would answer for his actions sooner or later.

Jesse had told Lukas why Valkari had decided against leaving the ship. She had insisted on staying on the Merchant Guild's vessel, to care for the rescued dragons. She wasn't ready to walk among humans again. Not after everything. The ship had become her sanctuary.

When they reached a quieter corner of the ship, Lukas gathered Velena, Jesse, and Valkari, lowering his voice. "There's much we need to discuss."

Rosalia, ever eager, immediately stepped forward, expecting to follow as she always did.

But Lukas shook his head softly. "Not this time."

She blinked, surprised. "Why not?"

His expression softened, but his tone left no room for argument. "You have no place in my council, little one."

"Stay here." Lukas gestured to the young dragons gathered nearby, their curious eyes following Rosalia as if they'd already accepted her as one of their own. "Play with them. Watch over them. I'll be back soon."

There was a flicker of disappointment in her gaze, but also understanding. She knew better than to push when Lukas was serious.

"…Okay," she mumbled, her voice small. "Don't take too long."

"I won't." He ruffled her hair gently before turning away.

Once inside the captain's quarters, the door closed firmly behind them, shutting out the world. And then their meeting began.