"...these lights in the heavens, to give light upon the earth, to govern day and night, and to divide the light from the darkness."
"And there was evening, and there was morning: The Fourth Sun..."
Jean Pierre lowered his head, looking at the ancient sheets of parchment, at the lines of handwritten Ancient Feysac script upon them.
As an archbishop who had mastered the Church's holy scriptures, he could see in these words a description remarkably similar to his own scripture, yet subtly different in places.
Heresy!
This was unmistakably heresy!
Though it seemed an ill-fitting moment for it, a surge of anger still rose in Pierre's heart.
He could not understand why the Church's precious Sequence 0 sealed artifact should be wrapped in heretical script of all things.
But before he tangled himself in such questions, there was something more important at hand.
With a soft rustle, Pierre reached out his hand, and the ancient parchment fell away rapidly, gradually revealing the body of the sealed artifact within.
It was a short black staff, simple in shape, but its blackness ran so deep it seemed to swallow every ray of light that touched it.
Set into the head of the staff was a golden gem, ceaselessly drifting within, as though trying to break through the black barrier and escape into the air, yet never quite managing it.
Pierre drew a deep breath, gripped the staff, and slowly raised it.
"Praise the Lord."
He said.
"Praise the Lord!"
Every priest present dropped to their knees, chanting the praise as one, many already with tears streaming down their faces.
An invisible pressure spread outward with it.
Is that... a Sequence 0 sealed artifact?
At the edge of the battlefield, Silas, seeing through Lieutenant Philip's eyes what the archbishop held in his hand, felt the power ceaselessly radiating from that black staff, and immediately guessed it must be the powerful item the Queen had mentioned in her letter, one belonging to the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun.
The aura coming off the object was equally astonishing. He sensed this sealed artifact was at least of Sequence 2 caliber.
Not good. Their own side had a Sequence 2 as well, but the Black King was constrained.
His gaze couldn't help but drift to the other side.
Aboard the Black King, the black-haired, red-eyed woman glanced at the staff in Pierre's hand, seeming to sense some manner of danger in it too. But though she wanted to act, wanted to counter it, she remained bound by those chains, unable to do anything.
She glared with hatred at the chains entangling her.
Silas wasn't certain exactly what this woman's identity was, but he could roughly guess she had some close connection to the Black King.
The first possibility: she was an angel, bound to the Black King by some peculiar method of Roselle's, and those chains were the outward sign of that binding.
The second possibility: she was the Black King itself.
Judging from Roselle's journals, the man had studied the Savant Pathway with tremendous depth, so much so that he had even been recognized by the Steam Church as a "Son of Steam."
With his ability, granting a ship a personality, giving it life, was hardly beyond doing.
And turning a ship into a beautiful woman certainly suited that emperor's particular style.
Only, what about the chains?
Had Roselle added those as well?
If not for those chains, the men Intis had sent would surely be no match for the Black King at all!
Following the chains along the woman's body, Silas traced them to their end. Soon enough, he saw it: at the position of the Black King's helm hung a peculiar great lock.
Those black chains stretched out from that lock, binding tightly around the black-robed woman's body.
Wait a moment...
Seeing this, something stirred in Silas's heart.
The shape of that lock's keyhole looked somehow familiar...
It looked exactly like the key Roselle had forcibly bound to his own body, matching the keyhole perfectly!
If that was so, then wouldn't inserting his own key and turning it open release the constraint on the Black King, and turn the whole situation around?
Just as he was making this guess, Pierre was raising the staff high overhead.
Then, in the next instant, deep within the Fog Sea, something strange began slowly to rise.
It was a round golden sphere, blazing hot, brilliant, and holy, selflessly spreading its pure radiance to light every corner of the world.
Above the sea, a second sun had risen.
---
The Sonia Sea.
A fleet of pirate ships sailed across the water in great, sweeping force, flags flying from the top of every mast, each one bearing a white skull dripping with blood.
The Blood Pirates!
Thanks to the astonishing feats Silas had pulled off one after another, his pirate crew had, over this stretch of time, thoroughly made a name for itself across the Five Seas.
What was more, since this fleet never plundered ordinary civilian ships, striking only at Loen's official vessels and slave ships, they had earned themselves a fine reputation among the common people as well.
At the very rear of the fleet trailed several ships, towing a slave ship battered and broken by cannon fire. By the look of it, they had just finished a fresh "hunt" and were on their way home.
"Lads, good news!"
Anderson stood in the crow's nest at the top of the mast, calling down to the lively deck below. "The captain says you all did well today. Once we're back, not only will there be a feast same as always, you'll all get three days off besides!"
A burst of cheering rose at once from the deck.
"Behave yourselves, all of you! Even on your days off, don't forget you're men of the Scarlet King. Keep your guard up, don't let someone sneak in and knock you off..."
Boatswain Walter barked sharply, a warning meant to keep the men in line.
Having finished disciplining the sailors, he turned to look at Anderson.
"First mate, the captain's been keeping awfully low profile lately..."
He couldn't help but ask.
Anderson glanced at him.
"What, you got a problem with it? If you've got a problem, take it up with the captain yourself."
"Of course not."
Walter gave a dry laugh and hurried off, going to bark at the sailors on the other side of the deck instead.
Anderson watched him go, thought it over for a moment, then turned and went back into the captain's cabin.
"Can you reach the captain?"
He asked the flesh-and-blood proxy inside.
"There's no such function, but the connection between flesh and blood still exists."
The puppet had been fitted with a preset, low-level personality, capable of answering simple questions. "The main body is currently in good condition, not injured in any way."
"Alright then."
Seeing this, Anderson could only sigh.
The captain got to slip away easily enough, while he was left to shoulder the enormous responsibility of it all, dreading the day some general or king or the navy might stumble onto them and expose the whole thing.
He paced another circle around the room, and the hunter's instinct in him soon settled his mood; he sat himself down in Silas's chair with a grin.
"Heh heh, well, the captain's not around, might as well try this seat out for myself..."
Anderson muttered to himself, leaning back, rocking the chair side to side.
Just then, a spiritual ripple emanated from one of the drawers of the desk in front of him.
"What's that?"
The ripple wasn't particularly strong. Anderson reached over without much thought and pulled the drawer open, and found the invitation sent by the "King of the Five Seas."
It was glowing.