To Fly the Soaring Tides

Cira thought she would never get out of there. Sorcerer she was, Cira wasn’t built to be in the middle of hundreds of adoring subordinates.

Most were surprised that Wick’s most loyal men surrendered without a fight, but Cira wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. None of them could move. The council members so far weren’t happy about taking the position, but they made a quick decision to imprison as needed until things calmed down.

They didn’t want to be in charge of anything, but Cira assuaged their concerns by saying that they could replace themselves once the council was assembled and could vote on it, and that was the whole point, basically.

Wick was also carried off to the dungeon—the one below the palace—and left to sit there until all eight members were found. That was the collective decision of everyone present, and also a large contributing factor to the three founding council members being pressured to stay for now.

One Lomp should never bear the burden of an entire island, and those who share it should have an avenue out. That was Cira’s philosophy on this one.

So, she evacuated the palace, repaired it through direct alchemy like she would a broken plate, then used the present materials to reconstruct it to host eight towers instead of just three. Thanks to practical geomancy, they still turned out about half as tall, and just a little more narrow than before.

There were a lot of things inside the palace’s three spires that Cira just threw in the courtyard and made the hundreds of people present sort through it. These items included food, weapons, clothes, general housewares and such that had likely been sitting for decades, and staggering quantities of both trash and booze.

The trash and anything that looked like it was in a pile for people to pick through and be vaporized with sorcery later on, while the booze was quickly stored in breeze haven’s treasury for the time being—Cira didn’t need anyone getting drunk on the job yet.

The treasury was a matter she would attend to later, but things could be stored within it from anywhere inside her barrier, so it was a matter of simply floating them up there. A pile of random treasure found strewn about the palace sat next to the barrels as well, to be sorted later.

James stuck around to manage the sorting in the courtyard, then furnishing and organization of the new palace while Cira worked out the finer details like carving out and enchanting new kitchens, bathrooms, and other facilities. She thought the basement was a good place for the new state treasury, but then she would have to move the dungeon around and it started getting complicated.

What if I ran bridges between each of the towers and strung up cages for prisoners in the middle? But then their waste would fall all over the courtyard… There’s no winning here.

“Uhh, so you’re not tired or anything?” James asked after pointing a man with arms full of guns in some direction. He gazed at the bridge that appeared overhead only to turn into balls of stone and fly away. “You’re not exactly helping your reputation with all this. Rather, you’re taking it to a whole new level. These people are talking like they’re witnessing an act of god, and more are showing up by the minute.”

“Nothing to be done about that,” She shrugged, “I’ve decided to approach sorcery more like my father.”

Planters rose around the courtyard to encircle a fountain topped with a carved stone abominable mess of wings and eyeballs that spit up water in incomprehensible directions to fill the basin below. The beautiful angel fountain was surrounded by bright, blooming flowers in seconds

“And… what does that mean?”

“It means I will accept these people’s awe and gratitude in equal measure as it comes. A sorcerer of my caliber should not shy away because dealing with them is exhausting, or difficult, for the time I disappear into the sky is fast approaching.”

He creased his brow dubiously, “Rebuilding the palace is simple enough for you to do in five minutes without breaking a sweat, but you’re scared of… talking to strangers? Or is it crowds?” It seemed like he had some doubts to express when Cira noticed a woman beelining it for them from across the courtyard.

“Scared is a strong word,” She mused, “But look, there’s someone now. Whatever do you think she’ll say? It could be anything. I’ll be hard pressed not to fly away if she falls to her knees. What if she’s like that maid earlier and she’s upset about what I did to Captain Wick? Worse yet, my gaggle has somehow grown, and I have yet to understand its purpose. What if she falls in with them?”

Cira nervously eyed the seven women following her like doe-eyed ducklings. They had accepted being dressed up by their new reluctant and confused lord and master, but were just as confused when Cira made them put on mage’s robes. Whether or not their confusion would have lessened if they knew there was an equal number of naked wizards in the dungeon was anyone’s guess.

“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” James replied. “You know her already. Or were you so drunk you forgot?”

“Hmm?” The woman had pale red hair and an awkward smile on her face. “You’re right… That’s the woman from the Flying Dutchess. What’s her name again?”

“They call her Dutchess.”

“Oh. Of course.”

The woman looked increasingly nervous as she got closer and saw them conversing while staring straight at her, “M-Miss, I mean Captain Dreadheart! Should I, uh, kneel?”

“Please don’t.” Cira said.

“Oh… kay. Well, it’s, um, so good to see you again!” She sort of bowed then took a step back.

“Right… And what brings you here today?” Cira tried to diffuse the tension with a smile. Is she always this stiff or is it just me?

“O-of course!” She stammered, “Jimbo—I mean Captain Sticks said I should come here and ask you for, um, a necklace…?”

“Oh!” She turned to James and did a little excited clap, “We’ve finally got another one! What do you think?”

“Well, people like her. She’s good with money. I don’t know what kind of folk you’re expecting those two to drag in, but I’d say she’s as good a fit as any.” He nodded as he made his conclusion.

“A good fit… for what?” She looked between the two a little worried.

“Congratulations.” A pendant with one of eight pieces of Wick’s crown hung from it appeared around her neck. “You are now one of the eight rulers of New Acher. Pick whichever of these towers is your favorite and use it however you wish.”

Her eyes grew wide as she looked between the palace’s eight points in awe, but ended up having to shield her eyes in the light of the suns. “I’m not sure I get it, but does it have to be so bright? The sun hasn’t set in Hangman’s Cove in months.”

Come to think of it, that is the moon I’m seeing up there. Evidently, night had fallen at some point. It could have been night when she woke up for all she knew.

Cira shifted her gaze over the mountain and recalled the condensed sun she left up there. Roughly as fast as light could travel, it was above Cira. Prismagora came falling at terminal velocity and stuck into the ground before her.

“Good call, Councilwoman.” Cira flashed her a thumbs up and turned to the sun. A stream of light fell from it and started twisting like a tornado, or like it were being sucked down the drain. At its end, all the light ended up in the crystal prism atop the white bone staff. “What else you got for me?”

“Um…” James gave her a reassuring nod, “Well, it was an awful long walk to get here… I have a bar to run, you know.”

“Hmm, and you probably won’t be the only one with such problems. In fact, I don’t think it should be difficult to get here from the Cove. In the spirit of the peoples’ own reign, I shall tunnel a pass through the mountain. Keep it up, Dutchess.”

“Please… Call me Dutchy.” She turned to James with pleading eyes as soon as Cira’s attention was pulled away, “So, what is even going on here?”

Cira realized the lingering sun wasn’t her only loose end and Shadow Quill stabbed into the ground opposite her staff of light, startling the young woman looking for answers. Nobody could see the stream of shadows pouring into it from underground as her river of darkness quickly drained, but the onyx glistened with a vacuous iridescence that Cira thought would look great on some earrings or possibly a hairclip.

The mana my landforms have acquired may as well stay inside the island. No harm in it. She had plenty of mana at this point, so wasn’t really worried about it. This way, her enchantments would be that much more difficult to destroy or tamper with.

It seemed Jimbo and Ripley were still off finding adequate rulers and she was just about done with construction. Kuja earlier had utterly refused joining the people’s council, and despite her newfound youth, said she was tired and went to bed for the evening.

That doesn’t sound so bad. I got a lot done today. And I have a lot more to do tomorrow if I want to hit the sky anytime soon.

___

Cira awoke on Breeze Haven at some point the following morning. Her bed was nice and comfy and having regained her second leg, there was no dull, persistent discomfort. She took a bath and felt truly clean for the first time in a while. Within and without.

Somehow, her mood was lighter than she thought it had been in a long time, too. Even the ache in her heart that Gazen left as a constant companion felt somehow warmer. She was still quite sad about his absence, especially after watching him go again just yesterday, but Cira felt an optimistic air on the wind.

She would get ready for the day as any sorcerer would. This began with her wardrobe. She liked the white and gold, but it was time for a change of pace.

What will it be, my Cerulean Robes? I wore those so much on Fount Salt though… Does boosting my affinity to water do anything anymore? I could experiment with it, but I don’t feel like that today.

Cira put on a striking red gown that looked almost like a dress and checked herself out in the mirror. The hat was instead a heavy ruby broach that sparkled in her hair. She thought she looked great and always wanted an excuse to wear it out, but this didn’t feel like it. It would look fine at a dinner party, but at the same time, there’s no use wearing it if I don’t have many things to burn.

So, what will it be? I don’t want to wear something boring today. If anything… I should spend a week sewing some new outfits when I get a chance. For now, though… Should I raid Dad’s closet again?

She disappeared down the hall and let herself into Gazen’s old bedchamber. It looked the same as always and Cira found herself eyeing the bed. One of the pillows looked slightly askew. Right, I still need to check there…

Regardless, she ended up at the back of the room and entered the closet. There were many fine robes and other vestments down here, many extravagant enough to sit in the treasury themselves. Cira didn’t know exactly what she was looking for, as she couldn’t think of what enhancements to her sorcery would get her off the island faster. In the end, she decided the first thing to catch her eyes would be the winner.

This continued as she walked through a couple aisles and eventually found herself staring down the hallway at something new that caught her eye. Under a light artifact placed to display the thin fabric’s vibrance, the robes seemed to flow by themselves beneath the sealed glass.

It was more suited for a male sorcerer with its large cuffs and rather masculine pauldrons, but Cira knew she could make it hers with only a little bit of work.

So that’s exactly what she did, sitting in her garden for the next couple hours with some warm tea and foraged goods from the garden. Once that was done, Cira walked down her staircase and stepped down.

The refreshing morning air flew past her face at violent speeds without messing up her hair as she plummeted through the mist. Cira landed in the middle of the courtyard in an explosion of dust that kept rising and immediately disappeared.

“Oh, she’s back!” I remember her… She was with Wick yesterday.

“My, I was so worried when you just rose into the sky!” A brunette woman with bright eyes approached, along with the rest of the gaggle from wherever they stood in the courtyard. It was a little unnerving. “And now… just look at her.”

Cira was proud of her sewing capabilities. What her father had worn once for a job on a desert island that involved moving large pieces of unknown material was turned into a flowing dress of purple silk and dark leather. The bulky cuffs had become long, hanging sleeves that blew gently in the wind even when there was no wind. These suspicious women complimenting her was not exactly what she had in mind though.

“I have to agree,” The first woman said with… longing in her eyes? “You look incredible.”

A thin, blonde girl walked in close with red robes three sizes too large dragging behind her on the ground. There was an uncomfortably genuine concern painted on her face, “You shouldn’t scare us like that! And it must have been such trouble getting that dress on by yourself… Let us help you next time.”

They’re robes! Don’t they see the hat? It was practically her favorite part. The light material was nearly weightless, and its flowing point made her feel like a lofty cloud. She thought she looked very sorcerous today, in fact.

“Okay, enough…” Cira could not let this mystery continue any longer. “What are you girls? Why are there so many of you following me? What is your purpose? Perhaps your official positions?”

“Goodness, that’s a silly question.” A woman certain to have back problems later in life invaded Cira’s personal space with a playful smirk on her face, framed in bright red hair like that woman Eliza had. She lightly tugged on Cira’s sleeve with hands that were surprisingly clean when she checked and fluttered her eyelashes up at her. “We’re the imperial harem.”

“The imperial… what?” Cira bounced between all eight of them with baffled eyes.

“Ahem,” Someone cleared their throat and she turned to see James sitting around a table with a few others. “How nice of you to join us, Eternal Pirate Empress Dreadheart.”

She stood there blinking at him for a few moments and then scanned over the table. Jimbo and Ripley were there, as well as Dutchy. Her old pal Doctor Larry was present, giving her a disapproving frown and surrounded by bottles, seated next to Yotan. Last was a man she had never met who looked like he could be James’ big brother and an unfamiliar woman in sleek, gray robes.

“Aha. Has the council assembled?” She loved waking up to results. “An interesting bunch you’ve gathered, but what’s this about an empress?”

“Allow me,” the gruff man spoke, gesturing to James. “My little brother here was adamant that you would be leaving as soon as you found Paradise, and my fellow councilmembers seem to be in agreement that this will not take long for one such as you. Thus, we concluded that we needed to retain you as an ambiguous all-powerful figurehead at the top of our new republic so that nobody tries to capitalize on the power vacuum left behind by Wick’s absence.”

Uh… That’s really his brother? Why is what he said upsetting my stomach?

“Might I add,” Yotan, the devout, elderly artificer said, “That those of us on the mortal council are just representatives of the people. Everyone has witnessed the miracle of the immortal mistress, and news will surely spread quickly along the Boreal. With her above the council as proof of your divine will, nobody will dare cross us.”

Cira made eye contact with Kuja across the courtyard and she only shrugged, returning to her book under the shade of an apple tree. I need to find some time to talk with her.

The sorcerer’s frown deepened, giving Ripley a chance to speak up, “In other words, we’re squeezin’ all of your bullshit glory out that we can to keep people from messin’ with us. Had to rename the island again though. Best we could do was The Holy Land Acher of the Blessed Pirate Empress Dreadheart.” He also shrugged.

“I hate it. Figure out a better name by the next time I see you. Not to mention, I would have let Shores join the council if I knew you were going to lean into the holy thing. And since when are you the mortal council?”

“Ella wanted to join…” James supplied, “It was all I could come up with on the spot. That one’s my bad this time.”

“Fair enough…” She let out a long sigh, “I’m not letting you distract me though. Just what the hell is an imperial harem?!” Cira returned her gaze to the young woman loosely hanging onto her sleeve whose uncertain gaze (which she saw via Spatial Sight) turned warm in an instant when she looked down. “What are you supposed to do?!”

Her words rolled out with an alluring cadence that kept Cira’s attention, “My… Anything you want, Mistress.” She fluttered her eyelashes again and another girl pushed herself into Cira’s field of view, swaying her shoulders back and forth.

She spoke with a soft lilt to her voice, one which seemed to somehow beckon concern, “Anything… that you desire, Mistress…”

“Okay, I think I get it.” Cira dropped her fist into her palm, having a sudden realization. She looked over the gaggle of women who appeared downright eager for orders. They must be a group of servants, and Wick just had poor taste. That explains everything. “Why don’t you all run into town and find some clothes that fit? Here’s some gold.” Cira scooped some of the gold crowns lying around Breeze Haven’s interior and made them appear in the air, “Hold out your hands.”

They just looked between her and the money with wide eyes until Cira took the redheaded one and pushed her hands together before floating the swarm of gold coins into her palms.

“That takes care of that.” Cira dusted off her hands while her harem was left speechless. “Off you go, now.”

She scooted them along while the Council hid their laughter.

“What…?” Cira asked when she eventually turned back around. “Did I give them too much money?”

“No, no, nothing like that. But maybe…” James cleared his throat again, “Moving on, Captain Dreadheart, you should probably begin your search for Paradise Island, don’t you think?”