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

The Citadel had been transformed after Jesse's presentation. It now shimmered under warm candlelight and clinking silverware, refitted into a grand ceremonial dinner gathering. Nobles, dignitaries and business tycoons mingled freely, their laughter echoing off newly polished walls, the scent of roasted meats and sweet wines replacing the stench of iron and dragon breath.

All of the draconic kind, of course, had been removed from the premises. Chained once more, their groans muffled by distance and thick stone walls, they were carted back to their cages—hidden in the same clearing that they were all being kept. Out of sight and out of mind.

Now, the only topic on everyone's lips was the Merchant Guild's newest product: the Shard of Obedience

They were drawn to it like moths to flame. Throngs of nobles, merchants, and aristocrats crowded around Jesse and Velena, all desperate to pledge their coin to a future shaped by control. What they had witnessed earlier was more than enough to convince them. Minds bent with the flick of a crystal, beasts tamed and fear conquered.

The monthly payments? Laughable.

These were men and women who had so much wealth they forgot what it felt like to want. They were charmed by Velena's grandson and it was not just because of his invention, but because of who Jesse was himself. Young, ambitious and clever. They saw their own youth reflected in his brilliance, and they wanted to be part of it.

Rosalia stood by Jesse's side. A step behind, always watching and beaming with pride and admiration. The Princess of Easthaven said little, but her presence alone spoke volumes. Her eyes followed Jesse as he charmed another nobleman, shaking hands with someone eager to purchase a future wrapped in crystal.

Near the centre of it all, the King of Nozar stood beside Countess Velena, regal and smug as ever.

Daerion raised his glass and declared to those around him that of course—of course—he had known the dragonborn would break free of his chains. Measurements had been put in place. Security was guaranteed. Daerion congratulated Jesse like a father would a prodigal son, careful to ensure every noble in the room knew exactly where the credit belonged.

But beneath the gold and splendor, beneath the wine and smiles, in Lukas lingered deep uncertainty towards what Jesse planned to do with the Shard of Obedience.

Jesse's plan—his beautiful, dangerous, revolutionary plan—hinged on a single man: Magnus Elarion. The Head Mage of the Magic Tower and the rightful King of Easthaven. If Magnus refused to help them with the Shard, then none of this would matter. The Shard of Obedience would remain nothing more than a product that would help with the Merchant Guild's growth. And that in it of itself would already have been a success.

But Lukas had seen what Jesse intended to achieve with the Shard of Obedience, he wanted it to come true. Lukas needed it to come true.

Amidst the celebration, the rising star of the Magic Tower stood silent, watching from the periphery; letting Jesse capture the spotlight and attention.

It would not be easy to convince Magnus of Jesse's vision, Lukas knew that better than anyone. After all, the last time he had asked the old man to help him, when he begged him to help form an alliance between Linemall and Easthaven, he had refused.

Would Magnus agree to this? This was something even more outrageous and something that seemed completely impossible.

Even if Magnus did help them—even if the great Head Mage lent his hands and his mind to this endeavor—that did not mean Jesse's plans would come to light.

All they had was a chance. A chance to make it come true.

That, more than anything, terrified Lukas because it was out of his hands; all he could do was to see if fate would allow it to happen.

Lukas barely had the time to sort through the weight of his thoughts when a voice pulled him back into the present.

"You look like you need something strong."

Lukas turned and found Maelis Elarion standing beside him, holding out a cup of whiskey. There was no venom in his voice. No smug grin. Just a calm, steady look—and an offer that caught Lukas off guard.

Lukas hesitated, eyeing the glass warily, but ultimately took it. Reluctantly.

"Thanks," Lukas muttered.

The Admiral gave him a slow nod, stepping up beside him and joining in his silent observation of the room. For a moment, they simply stood there—two men on the sidelines of a gilded battlefield, watching alliances form and fortunes shift.

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"You did a good job up there," Maelis remarked, swirling his drink lazily. "A lot of people say all you're good for is your skill in battle. But if you were really the one behind this Shard, then maybe you've got more brains than people give you credit for."

Lukas smirked, raising his glass. "I try my best."

Maelis chuckled softly, then jerked his chin toward Jesse, who was still surrounded by nobles and basking in attention, Rosalia at his side.

"My niece seems fond of him," Maelis noted, voice quieter now. "Rosalia. That boy—Jesse Ilagron. How long have you known him?"

Lukas nodded. "Years. I watched him grow up. The Countess and her grandson have always been kind to me."

"Hm." Maelis studied Jesse for a long moment, then asked without looking back at Lukas, "Be straight with me now, is he a good kid?"

Lukas smiled. "He is. Jesse is a great kid. And he'll grow to be an even better man."

"Good," Maelis said with a sigh of resignation. "He better treat her right."

There was no threat in his tone, just the raw protectiveness of someone who still remembered the child Rosalia used to be—someone who still saw her as more than just royalty.

They stood in silence for a beat longer before Maelis spoke again. This time, the former Prince of Easthaven's voice had dropped further, shaded by something more personal.

"I just wanted to say...I'm sorry," Maelis told Lukas quietly. "We got off on the wrong foot. I wasn't exactly fair to you. It's just that…things got messy after my sister died. After...Rosalia's mother died."

Lukas glanced sideways at him but said nothing yet.

"Magnus...my father...he was never the same after we lost her," Maelis continued. "He wasn't there for me when I needed him the most. I guess he never realized he wasn't the only one grieving. So I left Easthaven, mostly out of anger. When I found out he'd taken in an apprentice—after all the times I asked him, begged him to do the same for me—I guess I took that a little too personally."

Lukas listened, his eyes softening. Maelis would still have been a boy when Rosalia's mother had died.

"And then," Maelis added, bitter amusement curling his lip. "Of all people, the same person who he chose as apprentice ends up as Rosalia's personal guard. You were even put in charge of her training. You got to see her grow up. You got to be there for her. That just pushed me over me the edge. I didn't mean to come off like an asshole. And for that I am sorry, Klein. I really am."

A long pause. Then Lukas took a sip of his whiskey, licked the taste off his lips, and looked over at Maelis.

"You sound like a real bitch right now."

The silence that followed lasted half a second before both of them cracked. Laughter burst from their chests, shaking their shoulders as they raised their glasses and clinked them together with a loud clack!

They downed the whiskey, the burn warm and fast.

Lukas didn't say it outright, but it was clear in the way he stood, the way his shoulders had relaxed that he had accepted Maelis' apology. Maybe the guy wasn't so bad after all.

The laughter between Lukas and Maelis hadn't even fully faded when the great doors of the Citadel burst open with a deafening crack. Gasps swept across the hall. Goblets froze mid-air. A dozen guards reached for their hilts as a small figure stumbled through the entrance—breathless and clad in tattered robes that clung to his skinny frame.

It was but a boy.

One of the guards stepped forward and roughly seized him by the collar before he could take another step.

"Where the hell do you think you're—"

"I have to—please, please—" the boy shouted, but his voice was lost in the sudden clamor of the room.

Nobles murmured disapprovingly. A few demanded the boy be taken out immediately.

But Lukas was already on his feet. He had recognized the boy who had barged into the Citadel. He was one of the cleaning boys aboard the Merchant Guild's vessel—barely ten, maybe younger.

The boy searched frantically for a familiar face and finally his eyes found Lukas.

"Let him go," Lukas ordered, his voice sharp and commanding.

The guards hesitated, but when Lukas crossed the floor with purposeful strides, they obeyed. The boy was released, and he immediately rushed into Lukas' arms, chest heaving like he'd been running for miles.

Lukas pulled him gently to the side, shielding him from the curious, prying eyes of the nobles.

"Breathe," he murmured, voice low and calm. "You're alright. Just breathe."

The boy nodded, gulping down air, one hand clutching Lukas' coat while the other trembled at his side.

Lukas flagged down one of the servers. "Could I get a glass of water for the boy?"

A silver goblet was placed into the boy's hands, and he drank greedily, as if he hadn't touched liquid in days. Lukas crouched beside him, steadying the cup, waiting until the boy's hands stopped shaking.

Then, softly, "What are you doing here?"

This was not some kind of immature act.

Lukas knew that much from the look in the boy's eyes.

The boy looked up at him, eyes wide.

"I was told to find you, Klein. I was told to deliver a message!"

"Who sent you?" Lukas asked.

The boy took a deep breath. "Ellion. Ellion sent me."

Lukas went still. The Archmage's Apprentice?

"And what message did he want to deliver to me?" He asked the boy, wondering what in the world required such urgency for Ellion to have sent this boy here to deliver his message.

The boy gripped Lukas' sleeve tighter.

"The Archmage Varian...is dead."