[Current Balance: 4,755,411,970,700 Mon]
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The guesthouse at Pennsbury Manor was a haven of quiet civility.
Sunlight, softened by the crisp autumn air, streamed through the clean glass panes of the sitting room window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. The room was simple but comfortable, furnished with sturdy, well-made wooden chairs and a small table, an evidence to the practical elegance of Quaker design.
Elizabeth Scott sat at the table, a delicate cup of Celestial Tea held loosely in her hands. The fragrant steam warmed her face. Across from her, her daughter Aveline was engaged in a quiet, happy conversation with Thulani.
Life had found a strange, new rhythm here in Pennsylvania. The initial shock of their flight from England, the constant underlying fear, had slowly begun to recede, replaced by the steady, peaceful routine of life at the manor.
"The harvest looks to be a good one this year," Aveline was saying, a small, contented smile on her face. "Mr. Kenway—Bernard, I mean—was saying the soil here is even richer than it was in Bristol."
Thulani nodded, his large frame somehow not looking out of place in the modest room. "The men work hard," he said, his deep voice a calm rumble. "They are grateful for the opportunity. For the freedom. It gives them purpose."
Elizabeth watched them, a gentle smile on her own lips. She saw the easy comfort between her daughter and the tall, quiet warrior. She saw the way Aveline's eyes sparkled when she looked at him, the way Thulani's usually stoic expression would soften whenever Aveline spoke. It was a beautiful thing to witness.
They talked of simple things for a while longer—the changing colors of the leaves in the Pennsylvanian forest, the progress of the new buildings being constructed on the far side of the estate, the amusing antics of the younger Kenway staff. It was a peaceful, domestic scene, a world away from the shadows and dangers they had all left behind.
Finally, Elizabeth set her teacup down with a soft click. A playful, motherly glint entered her eyes as she looked at the young couple.
"Aveline, dear," she began, her tone light and teasing. "And you as well, Thulani. I see the great affection you hold for one another. It warms my heart, truly."
She paused, her smile widening slightly. "But a mother must be curious… how far has this affection progressed? Have thy feelings for one another led to… a consummation of thy bond?"
The effect was instantaneous.
Aveline, who had been taking a sip of her tea, choked slightly, a deep crimson blush flooding her cheeks. She stared at her mother, utterly mortified.
Thulani, for his part, went very still. Elizabeth watched him, a wry thought passing through her mind. 'I wonder if he is blushing as well? It is impossible to tell with his handsome chocolate skin.'
"Mother!" Aveline finally managed to say, her voice a scandalized whisper. "I beg of you, do not ask such an embarrassing question!"
Elizabeth just laughed, a soft, musical sound. "Oh, hush, dear. I am only asking. A mother has a right to know the intentions of the man who courts her daughter, does she not?"
Thulani cleared his throat, his composure returning. He set his own teacup down and looked directly at Elizabeth, his dark eyes holding a deep, unwavering sincerity.
"Madam Scott," he began, his voice firm and respectful. "I hold for your daughter the highest respect. I would not… dishonor her in such a way." He glanced at Aveline, his expression softening. "I will marry Aveline, with your blessing, before we ever share that kind of intimacy. She deserves nothing less."
Elizabeth's smile became genuine, all traces of teasing gone, replaced by a profound, maternal warmth. She nodded her head slowly, her eyes shining with approval.
"Then... Thulani," she said softly, "I will hold you to that. Now that you have declared such honorable intentions, you must marry my daughter."
Thulani nodded back, a slow, happy smile spreading across his own face. "I will, Madam Scott. I promise you that."
A comfortable, happy silence settled over the small room as they all returned to their tea. Things were calm. Peaceful.
And then, it happened.
As Elizabeth raised her cup to her lips for another sip, a sudden, inexplicable feeling of dread washed over her. It was a cold, sharp spike of fear that made her heart skip a beat, a mother's intuition screaming that something was terribly, terribly wrong.
She choked on her tea, the hot liquid spilling down the front of her dress. She gasped, her hand flying to her chest, her breath catching in her throat.
"Are you okay, mother?" Aveline cried out, instantly at her side, her own face pale with worry.
Elizabeth clutched her daughter's hand, her knuckles white. "I… I am fine, dear," she managed to say, though her voice was weak and shaky. She took a few deep, ragged breaths, trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart.
"I suddenly had a bad feeling..." she whispered, her eyes wide with a nameless fear. "...and I thought of Caroline..."
The name hung in the air, heavy and ominous.
Thulani, seeing the genuine terror on Elizabeth's face, leaned forward, his expression serious and reassuring.
"Do not worry, ma'am," he said, his deep voice a steady anchor in the sudden storm of her emotions. "Alaric will find her. He will save her." He paused, a look of absolute, unshakeable faith in his eyes.
"He always does the impossible."
Elizabeth looked at him, at the quiet certainty in his gaze, and some of the fear receded, replaced by a fragile hope. She managed a weak chuckle, her hand still clutching Aveline's. She slowly got to her feet, her composure returning, though the shadow of the premonition still lingered in her eyes.
She walked towards the door, then paused, turning back to look at the two of them. Her gaze settled on Thulani, and a soft, genuine smile touched her lips.
"Thulani, dear..." she said, her voice regaining its warmth.
"...you may call me mother-in-law."
---Two Days Later---
Two days later.
The throne room of Gyeongbok Palace in Hanseong was a place of profound, oppressive silence.
Sunlight, filtered through intricately latticed paper screens, fell in soft, geometric patterns across the polished dark wood floors. Courtiers and high-ranking ministers, dressed in the vibrant, flowing robes of the Joseon court, stood perfectly still, their faces were blank, their eyes holding a placid, unnerving emptiness. They were like exquisitely dressed dolls, arranged for a silent play.
At the center of it all, on the grand Phoenix Throne, sat Caroline Scott Kenway.
She was no longer the simple, worried girl from Bristol. She wore a magnificent jeogori and chima, a traditional Korean dress of the finest silk, its deep indigo color embroidered with silver cranes. Her reddish-brown hair was pinned up in an elegant, elaborate style, adorned with jade and pearl ornaments. In her lap, resting lightly on the silk, was the source of her power: the dark, metallic sphere of the Apple of Eden. It pulsed with a faint, internal light, a rhythm only she could feel.
Seated on a slightly lower cushion to her right was Sukjong, the King of Joseon. He was not looking at his ministers or out at his kingdom. His entire world was focused on the woman who occupied his throne. His expression was one of complete, utter adoration, his eyes holding the blissful, vacant look of a man hopelessly in love.
"Is the tea to your liking, my light?" he asked, his voice soft, almost reverent.
"It is perfect, Sukjong," Caroline replied, her voice was a calm, melodic sound that seemed to fill the silent room. She did not look at him, her gaze was distant, focused on the grand designs of her new world order.
She had done it.
After leaving Edo, she had come to Joseon. The kingdom, like Japan, was isolated, but its political structure was rife with factionalism and intrigue. It had been laughably easy for her. A private audience with the King, a flash of the Apple's power, and the heart of the nation was hers.
From the King, her influence had spread outwards like a silent, invisible tide. The ministers, the generals, the provincial governors… one by one, they had been brought into her fold, their wills and ambitions subsumed by the Apple's perfect, orderly logic.
Now, she controlled the entire country. Every soldier, every official, every resource was hers to command. It was a nation of puppets, and she was the puppet master.
She felt a deep sense of triumph. Her goal, the reason she had embarked on this impossible journey, was so close now. The tomb of the First Emperor, the 'heart of the dragon'… with the resources of an entire nation at her disposal, finding it was only a matter of time. She would finally have the power she needed to bring true, lasting peace to the world, a perfect order free from the chaos and greed that had destroyed her father and threatened her own happiness.
It was so close.
And then, she felt it.
It started as a tiny, almost imperceptible shiver, a cold prickle on the back of her neck. The Apple in her lap pulsed, its gentle rhythm faltering for a fraction of a second.
Caroline's serene expression tightened, a frown creasing her brow. She looked up, her gaze unfocused, as if trying to see something far beyond the walls of the palace.
The feeling grew stronger. It was a sense of… opposition. A powerful, unyielding will, moving with impossible speed, coming for her from across the sea. It was a familiar energy, a signature she had not felt in years, one she had hoped to never feel again.
A bad feeling, cold and sharp, pierced through the warm bubble of her power. It was an intuition so strong, so certain, that it overrode the Apple's calming influence. Something was coming. Something that could undo everything she had built.
Her gut, the part of her that was still the sharp, intuitive girl from Bristol, screamed at her.
She trusted it.
Caroline stood up abruptly from the Phoenix Throne. The entire court flinched as one, their placid expressions momentarily disturbed. King Sukjong looked up at her, his face a mask of loving concern.
"My light?" he asked. "Is something amiss?"
Caroline looked down at him, then her gaze swept across the silent, waiting faces of her puppet court. Her expression hardened, the earlier serenity replaced by a cold, absolute resolve.
"There is a threat," she announced, her voice ringing with an authority that was now entirely her own. "An intruder approaches our shores. A powerful one."
She walked to the edge of the dais, her silk robes rustling.
"Issue the decree," she commanded, her voice echoing in the silent throne room. "To every provincial governor, every local magistrate, every captain of the guard. Mobilize the army. Every soldier is to be armed and placed on high alert along the coastlines. Every ship in the royal navy is to form a blockade."
She paused, her next words sending a ripple of genuine shock through the King, even in his enthralled state.
"And that is not all," she continued, her voice turning to ice. "Issue a second decree. To the people. Every man, woman, and child capable of holding a spear or a farming tool is to be conscripted. Every farmer, every fisherman, every merchant, every peasant. They are to patrol the roads, watch the shores, guard the villages. No one enters this kingdom without my knowledge. No one moves without being seen."
"The entire nation," Caroline declared, a fanatical gleam in her eyes, "will become my fortress. The intruder will find no safe harbor here. They will find only a kingdom of loyal eyes and sharp steel."
She looked out, past the walls of the palace, towards the distant sea.
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