As Mira approached the growing commotion at Dock E, the foreigner—shorter, loud, and animated—suddenly broke from the standoff and made a beeline toward her.
She blinked, caught off guard, and halted mid-step as he closed the distance like a man sprinting toward salvation.
"Sister!" he cried, his voice thick with theatrical despair.
Her brow lifted. Sister? Was that a foreign honorific? Or did he genuinely believe this was an acceptable way to greet a stranger in public?
Before she could answer, he clutched both hands dramatically over his chest like a priest invoking divine pity.
"That man is a thief!" he declared, jabbing a finger toward the officer with such righteous fury it would've been compelling—if it didn't reek of performance. "He's extorting me and my brother!"
Mira's eyes flicked from the stranger to the docking officer, now turning with visible dread etched across his broad face. The moment he recognized her, his spine went stiff, and his jaw slackened.
The shift was instant. Either the foreigner was telling the truth…
or the man was simply dumbfounded at the sight of an imperial on his dock.
Maybe both.
The officer scrambled to find words to defend himself.
Kyle, sensing blood in the water, didn't let him.
"He demanded an outrageous fee!" he cried, his voice cracking just so. "I told him—we're orphans, here to see the only family we have in this world. And still—still!—he tried to bleed us dry!"
He placed a hand on her shoulder with a practiced air of pleading intimacy.
Mira tensed—but didn't brush him off. Not yet.
Instead, she turned to the officer, one delicate brow raised with surgical precision. Her silence was more cutting than any accusation.
The man, towering and once authoritative, now looked like a scolded apprentice fumbling for his first defense.
"My lady, I assure you," he stammered, his voice faltering, "this man is exaggerating. There are… procedures. Protocols. He—he docked in an unauthorized—"
"One thousand gold coins!" Kyle cut in, eyes wide with fresh indignation. "For a dock we didn't even choose! We only wanted to admire the harbor—swim a little, breathe in the kingdom's beauty—and now we're to be punished for it?"
The officer froze. Utterly silent.
Mira said nothing, but the gaze she leveled at him was enough to silence gods.
Kyle chanced a glance toward the pouch—the one the officer still clutched.
If she hadn't shown up…
He smothered the thought, folding his hands together with perfect humility, his head bowed just enough to sell desperation.
"Please, my lady," he murmured, soft and reverent. "We've nothing left. Just let us pass…"
And to his satisfaction, the officer remained utterly still—caught between power, protocol, and panic.
*****
Mira, still parsing the whirlwind of melodrama that had unfolded at her feet, narrowed her eyes at the theatrically distressed man hovering far too close. His desperation rang loud—but it rang too sweet, like honey concealing the bitter stench of rot.
Still, she allowed him the benefit of the doubt. For now.
"Let me try to resolve this," she said coolly.
Kyle's face lit up like festival lanterns.
He spun toward his taller companion and beamed. "Come, brother!" he sang. "This sister here says she'll fix our troubles!"
Emil stared at him as though the heavens themselves had just decided to reward blasphemy.
What kind of divine joke is this man's life? he thought grimly. Kyle had a gift for dancing on the knife's edge between salvation and damnation—and somehow always landed on the side with wine and free bread.
Still, he followed, silent and taut with mistrust. When Kyle pulled miracles from the jaws of nonsense, it was always wise to remain braced for the crash.
The two slipped behind Mira and her giant with well-practiced innocence, like orphans taking cover behind a village priestess. Kyle even added a sniffle for flair.
Mira stepped forward, once again facing the dock officer, her eyes sharp as polished steel.
"Now," she said. "Explain what happened. All of it."
The officer, still rattled but eager to clear his name, launched into a stammered recounting—from when the ship was flagged to the pouch he had just opened, revealing more stone than coin.
Mira's brows furrowed. Her jaw tightened.
These two were no victims.
They were the storm.
She turned on her heel, fire igniting behind her eyes—only to find…
Nothing.
The space behind her was empty.
The two foreign men were gone.
Evaporated. Vanished. Dissolved like fog under sunrise.
She blinked. Once. Twice. Scanned the dock—nothing but crates, dockhands, and officers just as perplexed.
It was as though Kyle and Emil had never existed.
Her gaze returned to the officer's trembling hands.
Some two hundred and thirty gold short—docked directly from his salary.
Mira's teeth clenched. Her stare turned icy, lips curling around a single name laced with cold certainty.
"Bastards."
******
Mira took a slow, steadying breath, quieting the storm simmering beneath her ribs. Then she turned to the officer, her voice calm and controlled—tempered with a rare note of contrition.
"I owe you an apology, officer. I was misled, and I accept full responsibility for my part in this farce."
She reached into her cloak and withdrew a pouch heavy with gold, pressing it firmly into his hand.
"This should cover the debt. And I give you my word—I will do everything in my power to track down those two swindlers."
The officer blinked, caught off guard by her sincerity. His earlier frustration dissolved into reluctant admiration. After a beat, he offered a respectful bow—far deeper than any he'd managed before.
"Understood, Your Highness," he said. "Your word is more than enough."
"Good." Her tone cooled into steel. "Have the ship searched for now and secure any clues. I'll send Mount later to collect them."
The officer nodded.
"And assign two men to watch that derelict ship. If either of them sets foot on this dock again, I want them detained immediately."
"Yes, Your Highness."
He turned at once, barking crisp orders down the wharf as the clamor of duty surged back to life.
Mira pivoted on her heel, her cloak catching the salt-laced breeze as she made her way back with Mount. His stoic expression flickered with irritation. Even he hadn't caught their vanishing act.
She noted it, casting him a sideways glance.
"Come along, Mount," she murmured, her voice low. "It seems our agenda for the day will be taking a different kind of turn."
He nodded.
And without another word, the pair strode away from the docks, the wind trailing behind them like a whisper of unfinished business.