Lyall lay on a pile of blankets in the makeshift infirmary of an old Thalassa chapel. The previous day's fight had been a tactical victory but a physical defeat. The side effect of the selithe of teral was a punishment: the bodily heaviness was so intense that he could not move without a searing pain in every joint.
Elara was hunched over the broken navigation console of the House Aerum aerostat they had dragged here.
"The Ferix agent carried a data relay," Elara explained. "Vane uses House Aerum for reconnaissance, but House Ferix for transmission. I have a set of coordinates. It's not a camp, it's a relay-depot. A small island to the west, used to resupply patrols with nexium and raw selithes."
Lyall closed his eyes, feeling the pain. "A trap?"
"Vane knows we survived. He must expect us to run. But this Depot is also a prime target for the Monks of the Subterranean Flame. It represents nexium corruption."
Lyall understood. The situation was critical: they had to go, because if the Monks destroyed it, they would lose crucial intelligence on Vane's network.
In the afternoon, the Lady of the Tide visited Lyall, accompanied by two guards. She was not there to offer comfort.
"Vane's voraks selithes built shields around my commerce for years," the Lady began. "Yours, Lyall, sank their aircraft in the sand. I believe you capable of force."
She paused, staring at Lyall's shaking arm. "But your Anchor is fragile. The Monks are our enemies, because they destroy everything indiscriminately. Vane is our enemy, because he seeks total control. My alliance depends on this: you must prove that you can navigate between the two."
"What do you want," Lyall asked, his voice betraying his weakness.
"The House Aerum relay-depot. The Monks are on their way. You must reach that depot, retrieve the list of selithes and Vane's production coordinates, and return. If the Monks destroy it before you, I will hand you over to Vane for the sake of maritime peace."
Lyall realized the brutal bargain: he had to beat both the speed of the Monks and the defenses of Vane to earn trust.
The plan was simple, but risky. The Aerum relay-depot would be protected by a voraks garrison and Aerum patrols.
Elara handled the logistics, while Lyall tried to regulate his breathing. He meditated on the pyrelans principle: elemental control. He had to find a way to lighten his body, to reverse the teral's effect without wasting too much flux.
"If we succeed," Elara said, finishing bandaging his arm. "We will have proof that the selithes are being manufactured outside the Empire, which will force all free Kingdoms to unite."
The Lady of the Tide assigned them a guide/captain from the Maritime Kingdoms a local and skeptical figure who would be a point of friction. They secured a fast ship, the dark wind.
The captain, named Kalas, was a gruff man, his face marked by the wind and skepticism toward the Empire's technology.
"Do not bring chaos onto my ship," Kalas warned. "I am a sailor, not a crusader."
The dark wind, a fast and discreet vessel, left the port at twilight. Lyall was barely able to climb the ladder.
On deck, Lyall clenched his selithe of teral. He felt its weight, but he now understood its meaning. The Anchor was not just a weapon; it was a constant reminder of responsibility. Archduke Vane offered freedom through servitude. The Monks offered freedom through destruction.
Lyall, with the Teral, had to forge a third path: freedom through the mastery of causes.
He looked at the horizon, determined. The target, the depot island, was already in sight.