Every step was an ordeal. Lyall staggered through the undergrowth of the maritime hills. Despite stopping the nexium flow, the side effect of the Selithe of Teral persisted: bodily heaviness was crushing. His legs felt like they were made of granite.
Elara supported him, her arm around his waist. Her strength, inherited from her past as a Countess and from their escape, had become his own.
"Slow down, Lyall," she said. "You imposed the gravity of a Voraks crystal without the stability of their crystal."
"It had to be done," Lyall gasped. "The House Aerum aerostat would have alerted the whole Empire. We have a reprieve, but it is short. House Ferix and Aerum have our coordinates."
They reached a crest. Below them lay the capital of the Maritime Kingdoms, Thalassa. It was not a city of pneumatic tubes and glass towers, but a labyrinth of teak wood and limestone, anchored by massive docks and dominated by imposing ship masts. The technology here was one of wind, water, and commerce.
"Our last chance," Elara murmured. "To convince the Lady."
Passing into Thalassa was an immersion in another world. People spoke loudly, laughed openly, and the streets smelled of brine and spices, not oil and nexium. Lyall and Elara, in their worn Order clothes, looked like ghosts from a bygone era.
Thanks to Elara's contacts, they secured an audience. They were led to the Citadel of the Tide, a massive structure carved directly into the coastal rock.
The Lady of the Tide sat on a simple throne, made of driftwood and seashell inlays. She was a woman with braided hair, whose sharp gray eyes reflected a skepticism inherited from decades of tension with the Empire.
"Heretics from the Empire, I am told," the Lady began, her voice firm. "You bring the smell of nexium and chaos. Why should I believe your story about an Archduke we scorn here?"
Lyall, despite the effort, forced himself to remain standing.
Elara stepped forward, her former political eloquence returning. "Your Highness, Vane is not seeking territory. He is seeking control of the Cause."
She described the domain of the Lumenarcs Selithes and how Vane had used nexium to destroy will, as in the case of the engineer Kael.
"This is not a war for land. It is a war for free will. The Selithes are his tool to rewrite the will of humanity, turning every subject into a cause determined by his power alone. It is a sickness that will cross all seas."
Lyall intervened, his voice hoarse. "I saw the Chaos of my own gift. The Selithe of Teral gave me the Anchor. I can fight Vane, but we need a political Anchor to mobilize the free world."
The Lady of the Tide remained silent, her expression unreadable. "And why should I not believe that you are just another tyrant, with one more powerful stone?"
Just as the tension peaked, a messenger rushed in, his face pale. He did not address the Lady directly, but shouted into the hall.
"My Lady! The Monks!"
The Lady rose, her composure broken. "What has the Subterranean Flame done?"
"They struck Port-Sable. They dynamited the dock that trades with the North. They left a declaration: 'The Commerce of Chaos will be purified. Nexium must be banned.' They have vanished."
A murmur of horror swept through the hall. Lyall and Elara exchanged a heavy glance. The Monks of the Subterranean Flame, those anti-technological fanatics, were far more than a simple imperial rumor. They were an active force of destruction in the Maritime Kingdoms.
The Lady of the Tide looked at Lyall, then at Elara. She grasped the scale of the disaster.
"Merikh Vane offers us technological totalitarianism," she said slowly, gesturing toward Lyall. "And this Subterranean Flame offers us blind fanaticism. We are caught between the hammer and the anvil."
She struck the driftwood of her throne. "You came to ask me for an alliance against the Empire. I grant you this: I do not believe in your innocence, but I believe in the duality of Chaos. If you can prove that your Anchor is the only one capable of navigating between these two storms, I will support you."
The Lady of the Tide had accepted the fugitives, not out of trust, but out of strategic necessity in the face of the double danger.