Chapter Text
“Go settle this ridiculous threat I’ve been hearing of from my men, Duke Ginjoka.”
The Emperor’s voice echoed beneath the gilded, high-arched ceilings of the throne room, dry and thoroughly unimpressed.
He tossed a stack of salt-stained parchment onto the velvet-lined table.
“A self-proclaimed ‘Pirate King’ by the name of Captain Debonair has been plundering our northern merchant routes. My admirals claim he is a ghost on the water—ruthless, untouchable and entirely unbothered by the royal navy.
“It is an embarrassment to the Crown.”
Zeal Ginjoka stood at perfect attention, his hands clasped elegantly behind his back.
Clad in an immaculate white coat over a finely tailored grey waistcoat, he looked more like a delicate piece of courtly art than a weapon of the state. Intricate silver chains crossed his chest, jingling softly with every breath.
A crisp white military cap sat upon his head, tilted back just enough to catch the light and reveal the striking green beneath its brim. His long, dark hair was bound into a low ponytail over his shoulder, while sharp green streaks framed his face.
He offered a soft, almost serene smile.
“A pirate captain playing king in our waters?”
Zeal’s voice was a smooth, low baritone that could soothe a wild beast or freeze a man’s blood.
“How delightfully tedious. Surely a squadron of ironclads could sweep the shores, Your Majesty?”
“I have sent squadrons, Duke Ginjoka. They return with empty hulls and broken masts.”
The Emperor sighed, leaning forward as his gaze hardened.
“The court views you as a polite ornament—a charming, warm presence to grace our winter galas. They see your polished appearance and judge the book entirely by its gilded cover.”
His fingers tapped against the table.
“But you and I both know the truth.”
The Emperor wasn’t foolish.
Beneath that impeccable aristocratic decorum, flawless posture and pleasant tea-room smiles, Duke Ginjoka was a cold-blooded tactician.
Before his twenty-fifth year, he had quietly orchestrated the downfall of three rebel factions. He had won wars on frozen tundras where men ate their own boots to survive, all while keeping his pristine uniform completely spotless.
When the Empire needed a problem to disappear without leaving a trace, they didn’t send a loud, roaring army.
They sent the polite, smiling Duke.
“You are known for your unique... efficiency in settling disputes,” the Emperor continued, a dark glint in his eye.
“Go to the southern port. Board his flagship. Cut the head off this serpent and bring order back to the trade routes.”
He paused.
“Do I make myself clear?”
Zeal bowed from the waist, a perfectly executed angle of thirty degrees. His black-painted fingernails caught the candlelight as one hand came to rest on his sleek, silver cane.
“Your Majesty’s will is my highest honor,” Zeal replied, his smile widening just enough to show the faintest hint of a sharp tooth.
“Consider the pirate issue settled. I shall ensure the good Captain learns exactly what happens when one plays with royal fire.”
As Zeal turned and walked out of the throne room, his heavy white cloak and deep green-lined cape billowed behind him.
His tight white trousers, accented by dark thigh straps, disappeared into knee-high, high-heeled black leather boots that clicked sharply against the polished marble floor.
His mind was already drifting away from the politics of the court.
A ruthless, untouchable pirate king?
A ghost on the water?
For the first time in months, the bored Duke felt a spark of genuine curiosity.
He didn’t merely want to carry out the Crown’s orders.He wanted... to see exactly what kind of man it took to make the Emperor’s grand navy look like fools.
Two days later, the Duke’s imperial carriage was heading south toward the salt-crusted docks of the lower coast, where the heavy scent of sea brine and the promise of impending chaos awaited him.