The so-called enemy soldier was clad in battered armor, his body still and lifeless, an iron collar wrapped tightly around his neck. Faint magical runes glowed along its surface, confirming John’s worst fear.

  A servitude spell. These weren’t enemy pirates. They were slaves. John’s stomach twisted.

  “They… they sent the slaves disguised as knights,” the knight stammered, his voice heavy.

  John’s eyes widened as realization dawned on him like a hammer to the skull.

  The enemy hadn’t ridden into the ambush themselves. They had used the slaves—dressed in armor, armed with second-rate weapons—as nothing more than cannon fodder to fool them.

  At the Eastern Coastline – On the Trapped Ships

  Lana coughed, her lungs burning as the dust settled around her. The air was thick with the scent of broken wood, rope, and the unmistakable tang of blood. All around her, her crew scrambled in a frantic daze, some tending to the wounded while others searched for their weapons amid the wreckage.

  She gritted her teeth as she forced herself upright, gripping the ship’s railing for support. Pain flared through her side, but she ignored it. Her gaze swept over the scene, her pulse pounding as she registered the devastation.

  The mast had fallen, crushing two of her knights beneath its massive weight. Their sacrifice had spared her, pushing her out of the way just in time—but at the cost of their own lives.

  Lana’s fingers tightened around the railing as she turned her eyes toward the sea. The ship next to hers had suffered the same fate, its masts snapped like brittle twigs, the jagged remains jutting into the sky like broken spears.

  “What the hell was that?” she muttered, mind racing.

  No ordinary ballista could fire javelins with such force, let alone from that distance. She had fought in enough battles to know that much.

  Her breath hitched. “They have mages with them.”

  It was the only explanation.

  Her heart pounded as she weighed her options. If the enemy had mages capable of enhancing their siege weapons, their initial plan of storming the city was suicide. The decision to send the slaves ahead in disguise had been a simple caution, but now she knew—it had been the right one. Had she sent her own men instead, they would’ve been slaughtered before even reaching the city gates.

  Grinding her teeth, Lana made her decision.

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  “Everyone! Get the boats!” she commanded, her voice cutting through the chaos.

  Her crew hesitated for only a moment before scrambling to obey. She knew they were shaken—many of them had never faced a single battle before this was their first mission for many. But hesitation would only get them killed.

  “Leave the slaves! Get as many supplies as you can!” she barked.

  There was no salvaging this mission. The battle was lost, and their only hope of survival was to escape. If they could take enough provisions, they might stand a chance of regrouping at sea.

  As her crew hurried to execute her orders, she allowed herself a small, bitter smirk.

  “At least I sent half my crew to Captain Connor,” she muttered under her breath.

  If he had fared better than them, there might still be a chance to turn this around.

  At the Southern Coastline – On the Trapped Ships

  The ships were chaos. The crackling of broken lanterns that spread flames, the distant clash of steel against the wood still ringing, and the anguished cries of the wounded filled the air. Onboard the leading vessel, Captain Connor’s grip tightened around the hilt of his sword as he watched his men force the slaves into position.

  “Jackson! Hold her properly! Use the fillet flower if you have to!” Connor snapped, his voice laced with urgency.

  Jackson flinched at the order, his hands trembling slightly as he shoved a struggling slave forward.

  Connor’s plan was simple—if Ravenna wanted the slaves, then they would use them as leverage. If they threatened to execute them, she might be forced to let them leave unharmed.

  But Jackson’s stomach churned.

  Would it work?

  Princess Ravenna’s reputation preceded her. Ruthless. Cunning. Unforgiving. She had brought entire noble houses to ruin over a single insult. Entire families had been wiped from existence for minor slights against her.

  Jackson’s mind kept circling back to his own family—his mother, frail and sick in their tiny village near Ronin Town. He had only just been promoted from a squire to a knight. This mission was supposed to be his easy ticket to a noble title, to a better life for his mother.

  Now, as he stared into the terrified eyes of the slaves, the certainty of his own survival dwindled with each passing moment.

  “Yes, Captain,” he muttered, shoving the slave forward once more, but his grip was unsteady.

  He prayed he would live to see his mother again.

  At the Southern Coastline – On the Port

  [Reputation System Log]

  +9 Points: Knight Jackson is stunned and dreading the counterattack’s continuation.

  Ravenna’s sharp eyes flickered over the floating log, amusement curling at the corners of her lips. With a delicate motion, she tapped the entry to expand it.

  [Reputation Log]

  Title: Knight

  Name: Jackson House

  Reason: He is terrified of you. If you win this battle, he believes you will have his family—especially his sick mother—executed. He desperately hopes to escape alive and complete his mission, securing a noble title to provide a better life for his family.

  Background: Jackson House is a young knight from a small village near Ronin Town. He spent years struggling to provide for his sick mother and saw this mission as an opportunity to elevate his family’s status. He was promised a title upon success.

  Ravenna exhaled through her nose, a smirk tugging at her lips.

  “Oh?”

  She lifted her hand, crushing another jasmine flower between her fingers. The fragrance mixed with the salty sea breeze, and as the petals crumbled, her voice boomed across the battlefield once more, laced with amusement and chilling certainty.

  “Captain Connor,” she called, her voice carrying across the waters. “I wonder… just how much your men fear me.”

  She let her words linger, savoring the weight of them.

  Then, with an almost lazy confidence, she spoke again.

  “Like Ser Jackson House over there? Doesn’t he want to return to his sick mother?”