InfamousGuy101

Empire of the Clouds

James E. Carter & Itzi Ku

---

The map crinkled under Hamerlin’s gloved hand, marked with loops and squiggles, hazard skulls, and altitude annotations that would make a younger man sweat. The old officer's voice carried with practiced ease, one part artilleryman, one part diplomat, and one part devil-may-care showman.

Carter stood just behind the forward portside console, arms folded across his chest, eyes locked on the maze of valleys and turn angles sketched across the old survey sheet. His brow furrowed, jaw working the edge of a thought like a stubborn nail.

When Hamerlin finished, Carter didn’t speak right away. He stepped forward, glancing between the map and the old captain’s weathered face.

"...Threadin’ a needle’s right," Carter muttered. “With the engines running heavy, and the gold dragging us like an anchor, we'd be banking her on momentum. She’s no racer. But...”

He tapped one gloved finger on the valley line.

“…but if this here’s real—if that cover breaks sightlines like you say—then hell, it’s worth the damn gamble. Better than slugging it out with whatever’s comin’. They spot us in the open sky, it’s just a matter of time before something faster finds us.”

He looked up, tone sharpening.

“You get me a flightpath, I can fly her through it. It'll shake like hell, and I ain't promising everyone keeps their lunch down, but I can do it.”

Then he looked over toward Itzi, giving her a head gesture.

“But I don’t fly her alone..."

Itzi had remained still during the whole exchange, eyes flicking over Hamerlin’s grease-streaked map. She understood the logic. The elevations, the masking effect, the timing. It was smartt, ingenious even, but the airship wasn’t a fighter. It was a flying brick with dreams of grace.

She didn’t move from her station.

“It’s clever,” she said, carefully, “And I trust the man's math.”

There was a “but” coming from the time in her voice, and it hung there a moment before she exhaled and gave it life.

“But this isn’t some skiff or coastal patrol ship. One miscalculation in a blind spot, and we’re scraping a gasbag on rock. You’ve all seen how sluggish she’s been climbing. We don't get a second chance if something goes wrong.”

She looked at Carter, her voice lowering just slihtly.

“And you're confident you can do this, loaded like we are?”

“No,” Carter don't hesitate. “Not confident. But I’ve flown through worse with less.” A pause. “And we don’t got a safer option, unless anyone else has a better idea?"

Itzi nodded slowly. She didn’t argue. But her grip on the trim lever tightened slightly.

The room fell into a beat of silence. The chart remained on the table like a challenge. The math was done. The terrain was waiting.

All that remained was the choice.

The floor was open.

Empire of the Clouds

James E. Carter & Itzi Ku

---

Carter slammed the hatch shut behind Nikos, catching the last glimpse of distant figures creeping closer through the haze of smoke. He paused, hand gripping the metal frame, lungs burning, trying to shove the rising tension down his throat with a few sharp exhales.

“Welcome aboard, sunshine,” he muttered, mostly to himself, before turning back into the gondola.

He made his way toward the control cabin, boots thudding against the grates, catching the tail end of Arkadios and Volodar’s exchange. The two were locked in some kind of debate—whether the approaching troops were Inburian, defectors, or something else entirely.

“Doesn’t matter what banner they wave,” Carter said flatly, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of a gloved hand. “If they’re marching toward us and carrying rifles, we ain’t waitin’ around to shake hands and swap names.”

He stepped into the control cabin without waiting for any other word.

Itzi was already at the rudder, fingers hovering just above the trim levers, following Hamerlin’s course adjustment. She didn’t need to be told twice. Her brow was furrowed, but her face otherwise calm, composed. If anyone noticed the tremor in her fingertips, they didn’t say.

She nodded tightly when Carter joined her. The cabin felt brimming with heat, copper scent, and the distant hum of something approaching.

“I’ve already begun shifting our heading,” she said, glancing at the compass, “One-nine-zero. It should keep us clear unless they’ve got wheels… or wings.”

“Let’s hope not,” Carter said, stepping in beside her and reaching for the ballast controls. “We’re dragging like a sick elephant. The gold’s weighing us down—wasn’t made to carry a royal fortune I figure...”

He flicked a switch with a practiced snap. The ship groaned faintly as the trim adjusted.

Itzi nodded again, suppressing the knot in her chest. It had been her own decision to help recover this gold, this way to justify her ventures in the old continent and return home with a fortune to her family's name. Now they were flying lower than comfortable, slower than safe. It felt like perhaps this wasn't a good idea, it was a gamble. Everything was a gamble now.

“How long before they’re in range?” she asked.

He peered out one of the side panels, jaw tightening. “Depends on their legs. If they start shootin’, this crate’s got enough armor to laugh off a pistol, but rifles may punch through just fine.”

He didn’t bother softening it. The crew needed facts, not comfort.

“We can’t outrun a proper scout squad in this condition, but if we keep our heading and stay unpredictable, they’ll have a hard time tracking us. Hell, they might think we’re one of them.”

“And if they don’t?” she asked

Carter shrugged, “Then we better hope the folks in the gun stations don’t panic.”

She breathed in deep, fixing her eyes on the altimeter. Behind her cool tone, her mind raced. What if they’re shot at? What if someone panics? What if Carter gets stubborn again and argues with the Inburians over the gold?

But she only nodded.

“You take lateral trim,” she said. “I’ll manage the lift and heading. We’ll clear the range. Hopefully.”

“Yeah. Hopefully.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “You’re keepin’ it together well, I’ll give you that.”

“Someone has to.”

He grunted, impressed but not saying it. Then: “You’re sure the old man knows what he’s doin’, right?”

Itzi looked toward the forward windows where Hamerlin stood, still reading his compass like it was scripture. She hesitated.

“…Yes.”

Carter caught that pause. He said nothing, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Alright, then. Let’s hope he keeps readin’ the gospel.”

Empire of the Clouds

Itzi – Taking to the Skies

Itzi gritted her teeth, both hands steady on the controls as the airship lurched beneath her. The ballonets deflated, the ballast dumped, and the ship began its ascent—not gracefully, but it was rising. The wind caught them hard, pushing against the hull, and for a moment, the airship swayed like a drunken sailor. Hold steady. Keep the nose level.

She forced herself to focus, adjusting the altitude controls in careful increments, not overcorrecting. She'd studied the techniques, knew the theory inside and out, but now? Now it’s just me, my hands, and this ship.

The engines roared, the pressure gauges fluctuated slightly, but everything held. It’s working. She exhaled through her nose, fingers tightening, eyes flicking over the instruments. No amount of theory could replace experience, but hell if she wasn’t earning it right now.

“Come on, girl,” she muttered under her breath, as if speaking to the ship itself. “We’re not dying today.”

She spared a brief glance out the window. Below, the fortress was shrinking, the ground falling away, but the ridgeline—the horsemen—were still visible. Itzi felt her pulse hammer, her gaze retuned to the skies where she hoped they'd find safety.

Carter – A Helping Hand

Carter was gripping a support beam near when movement caught his eye. Nikos, tearing across the yard like hell itself was at his heels.

“Shit,” Carter muttered.

The ship was rising fast, the mooring lines already cut. If Nikos didn’t reach the gondola now, he wasn’t reaching it at all.

Carter let go of the beam and lunged, cursing at himself all while at it. Grabbing a thick net still hanging from the hull the mainer braced himself against the deck, extending a hand out toward the sprinting Inburian.

“Move it, sailor!” Carter barked, arm outstretched. If he jumps, he might just make it.

Empire of the Clouds

Likewise. Lost a true G

Smoke and Steel

Alberic Thorel

Port of Rodelkog

---

The harbor was alive with the sound of waves lapping against the hulls of ships and the rhythmic calls of sailors preparing for departure. The air carried the scent of brine and wood tar, mingling with the distant scent of roasted fish from a nearby market stall.

Inside a small, dimly lit cabin near the pier, Alberic sat alone at a wooden table, the flickering lantern casting long shadows on the walls. The parchment before him bore the ink of his restless mind, his quill hovering for a moment as he contemplated his next words.

The war was moving faster than he had expected. Would Andronika and Coralie truly work together, or would their ambitions rip them apart before the real fight even began? Mainland rulers had a way of turning allies into rivals faster than any storm at sea.

But deep down, Alberic cared little for who sat on the throne of some shattered empire.

The Isles were what mattered. Vich, Emiddly, Favis—his people. Coralie had brought so many Corsairs to her side, more than he thought possible. If she had that much sway, what did that mean for the League? Did Gerart and the Council of Captains still hold any power, or had they become little more than ghosts in an era they no longer controlled?

His real loyalty lay with the League, with the dream of a united Circle Sea, and more importantly, with Aonène.

She was the true Uniter, the one who could break the cycle of blood between Vich and Emiddly and forge something greater. But she was out here, tangled in the affairs of landlocked wars, when she should have been back rallying the isles, standing before the League, and taking what was rightfully hers.

With a frustrated sigh, Alberic sealed the message he had just finished writing—a direct call to Gerart and the others. A plea, or a warning, depending on how they saw it. Coralie was rising, and if the League didn’t move soon, they’d be answering to her instead of calling their own shots.

Just as he finished, the door to the cabin creaked open, and one of Coralie’s messengers stepped inside.

“Message for the League?” the man asked, eyeing the sealed parchment.

Alberic handed it over. “Sealed and ready. Make sure it reaches them.”

The messenger took the letter and, without hesitation, pulled another scroll from his belt, wrapped in deep crimson ribbon and sealed with wax.

“This one’s for you,” the courier said.

Alberic furrowed his brow, taking the scroll. Coralie’s seal. He turned it over in his hands, but before he could break it open, the courier raised a hand.

“Open it once you’re aboard,” the messenger instructed, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. “Orders from the Empress.”

Alberic gave a slow nod, watching as the man left, disappearing into the bustling dockside.

Left alone with his thoughts, he turned the scroll between his fingers. What now, Coralie?

Outside, the ships were nearly ready to set sail. The war was moving. The tides were shifting. But to whose benefit?

He would soon find out.

Empire of the Clouds

Itzi Ku & James E. Carter

---

Itzi – Prepping for Takeoff

Itzi’s fingers danced over the controls, her eyes flicking between dials and gauges as she ran through the final checks. Everything was primed—engines ready, ballonets inflated just enough to keep them grounded, and the ballast waiting to be dumped. All they needed was the signal that the lines were free and everyone—everyone—was aboard, including the last of the gold.

Her stomach twisted with nerves, but she shoved them down. Now was not the time for doubt.

She checked again—fuel pressure, rudder responsiveness, altitude stabilizers. Everything was where it needed to be. No mistakes. No failures.

Taking a sharp breath, she pulled her pistol from her belt, pulling the side and making sure a round was there. Would she need it? Hopefully not. Hopefully, they were about to take off and leave all of this behind.

But her hands still trembled slightly as she released the slide back in place.

Was she really up for this?

Her mind drifted, unbidden, to home... to the warm, salty air of the Main, the familiar streets, the smell of fresh-baked bread wafting from a busy market stall. A far cry from where she sat now, heart pounding, waiting for the moment they’d rise into the sky or fall into chaos. She wasn’t here just for herself. She had to make it back. Not empty-handed. Not with just a story of how she almost had it.

Gritting her teeth, she tucked the pistol back in its waist holster and refocused.

Just a little longer. Get everyone aboard. Cut the lines. Drop the ballast. And then, they’d be free.

---

Carter – Time to Fly

The last crate of gold swung up on the crane, rattling slightly before settling into the cargo hold with a satisfying thud. Carter exhaled through his nose, gripping the shotgun tight as he took one last glance at the castle. That’s it. No more trips. No second chances. The moment that gold hit the airship, it became theirs.

He turned, stepping quickly up the stairs of the cargo hold and onto the deck as the others followed behind, sweat-streaked and breathless. The engines rumbled, the air thrumming, it was obvious that the crew inside the ship had begun work already. They were seconds away from getting the hell out of here, assuming nothing went sideways in the last stretch.

That was when he spotted Zano and other crew working the lines, hands moving fast to free the last tethers holding them to the ground. Carter smirked, adjusting his shotgun on his shoulder as he called out, “Damn fine timing, Mirazdar. Any later, and we’d have been sitting ducks out here, waiting for an invitation to dinner...”

He didn’t need to explain what kind of dinner, evveryone already knew it’d be lead instead of lamb.

With the gold aboard and the last lines dropping free, Carter made his way to the ballast release, rolling his shoulders as he took position. He gripped the lever, bracing himself. Once this goes, there’s no stopping it. The ship would rise, and with any luck, they'd leave behind the horsemen, the fort, and hopefully war itself, at least for him and those with no interest in fighting for a cause that wasn't theirs.

He turned his head toward Arkadios, Itzi and anyone else in the bridge, calling out over the growing hum of the engines, “We ready to let this bird fly?”

Empire of the Clouds

“There are a bunch of men on horseback from the ridge!” she shouted, not giving Itzi a time to respond. “Alert the others for a possible withdrawal! Can’t tell of they’re friendly or not!”

Giogoula then shut off the phone and climbed back up to the top of the balloon. If things get dicey, then the machine gun nest at the top will be of good use to the crew.

@Badarby

Itzi had spent the better part of the previous evening teaching Zano the basics of piloting the airship and finally managing to get some much-needed rest. Now, as dawn painted the horizon in soft hues of gold and pink, she found herself at the bridge, scanning the systems. Everything appeared to be running smoothly, but her stomach growled in protest, reminding her of the mess hall just a short walk away.

As she turned, the urgent call came over the wired system, followed by a horn blast that nearly made her jump.

Snatching a pair of binoculars, Itzi spotted the riders in the distance, their silhouettes unmistakable against the ridgeline. Her heart sank. “Craps,” she muttered, sprinting to the horn and slamming it into action. “Emergency! We’ve got hostiles incoming!”

---

Down on the yard, Carter was loading the last of the crates onto a cart when the horn's blare broke the morning calm. His head snapped up to see Itzi leaning out from the bridge, frantically pointing toward the horizon. Following her gesture, his gaze landed on the incoming riders cresting the ridgeline. The tension in his body snapped into focus as he registered the danger.

“Get the ship ready, Itzi!” he barked, his voice cutting through the early dawn. His shotgun came off his shoulder, and he racked a round of buckshot with a loud, metallic shink-shink. Turning to the others nearby, he shouted, “Hustle! Let's get the last crates aboard, now! We’re not sticking around to make friends!”

He positioned himself near the cart, keeping his eyes on the advancing riders, though they may not know who they were he knew the chances of them being friends was slim at best, “Let’s move, people! They’re not here for tea!”

Smoke and Steel

Name: Alberic Thorel
Species/Race: Monchian
Sex: Male
Age: 30
Court Alignment: White Wyvern + The Dawnbringer
Role: Captain & Personal Guard of the Dawnbringer
Appearance:

Hider

Strengths and Weaknesses

Skills:
Combat Expertise: Alberic is a seasoned fighter, skilled in the use of various weapons such as swords, firearms, and naval tactics. His Corsair background has honed his abilities in both skirmishes and larger battles, making him a valuable asset in combat situations. He is also capable of swimming, as most Monchians are.

Loyalty and Dedication: Once Alberic gives his loyalty, he is unwavering. His commitment to Aonène and the cause of the Dawnbringer is steadfast, even when faced with personal challenges or competing goals like his quest for vengeance.

Unconventional Fighter: Alberic is an experienced strategist, especially in unconventional warfare. His time with the Corsairs taught him to outmaneuver larger, better-equipped forces, which translates well to land battles.

Resilience and Endurance: Alberic’s difficult past has made him physically and emotionally tough. He can endure harsh conditions and recover from setbacks quickly.

Weaknesses:

Revenge-Driven: Alberic’s fixation on finding Warin Montfault can cloud his judgment and lead him to prioritize personal vendettas over the broader goals of the cause, putting himself and others at risk.

Reluctant Diplomat: While capable of inspiring those under his command, Alberic struggles with the more delicate aspects of diplomacy, often favoring bluntness over tact, which can alienate potential allies though it may have an positive effect on certain individuals.

Haunted by the Past: The trauma of losing his family and his inability to save his sister weigh heavily on him, sometimes leading to bouts of self-doubt or impulsive behavior.

Background:

Backstory: Born 30 years ago in the bustling port city of Vich, Alberic Thorel was the son of humble merchant parents. His early years were spent learning the intricacies of commerce and seafaring, skills passed down from his father, a seasoned trader navigating the Circle Sea. Alberic’s childhood brimmed with the clamor of docks, the salt tang of the sea, and bustling trade with distant lands. His father taught him the art of ship handling, haggling, and discerning quality goods—a foundation for a promising future in trade.

Fate, however, had other plans. On a routine voyage, Alberic's family ship was ambushed by the notorious pirates of Emiddley, long-time enemies of Vich. Despite their valiant defense with limited weapons, they were overpowered. Alberic's father fell first, protecting his son, while his mother and younger brother were ruthlessly gunned down. Alberic fought fiercely to protect his sister, Meli, but was overwhelmed. He watched in horror as the pirates dragged Meli away, their leader—Warin "Grey Beard" Montfault—mocking him with a chilling promise: "The seas shall bring you no mercy, boy."

Left for dead on the sinking vessel, Alberic felt the cold embrace of the sea pulling him under. Yet, as darkness encroached, he awoke aboard another ship. The Corsairs of Vich had intervened too late to save his family but in time to save him. Towering above the injured boy stood Gerart of the Corsair League, an imposing figure with white hair, a scarred face. Despite his intimidating appearance, Gerart's voice was kind. “You have spirit,” he told Alberic. “Join us, fight for justice, and bring honor to Vich.”

With nothing left to lose, Alberic accepted the Corsair’s offer, setting him on a path of vengeance and transformation.

Under Gerart’s mentorship, Alberic grew into a formidable Corsair. He fought against Emiddleyan raiders, Orcs from the Blighted Lands, and even encountered Filipanasans from the mysterious east. Each victory sharpened his skills and brought him closer to avenging his family. His ultimate target was Warin "Grey Beard," the man responsible for his family's demise, but Montfault had vanished, rumored to have fled to the mainland.

Determined to track him down, Alberic proposed a reconnaissance mission to the Inburian coast, ostensibly to scout Haltian shipping routes. Gerart, though suspecting Alberic’s ulterior motives, approved the mission. Alberic’s ship, however, was ambushed by the Halthians. Their caravel was destroyed in a fiery explosion, and Alberic was captured, bound for the Haltian-controlled mainland.

Alberic’s captivity ended when he was freed by two unlikely individuals: Vassos, a deserting Haltian Owned Man, and Andronika Hasikos, a sharp-witted peasant girl revealed to be a descendant of the old Inburian dynasty. Together, they liberated a group of prisoners, including Aonène de Bellièvre, a fellow Monchian. Their escape marked the beginning of a rebellion against the Haltian Empire.

As the group faced numerous trials, Aonène’s true identity emerged. Her sword glowed with a divine light, revealing her as the prophesied Dawnbringer, destined to save the world from the Blight. For Alberic, the revelation was transformative. No longer driven solely by revenge, he saw Aonène as the Uniter of the Circle, capable of ending the centuries-old feud between Vich and Emiddley and leading the Isles to greatness.

Despite his newfound purpose, Alberic’s quest for vengeance against Montfault lingered like a shadow. The two paths—duty and revenge—pulled at him, forcing him to confront the man he had become and the man he wished to be.

Alberic fought alongside Andronika and Aonène to repel a Haltian army at Tregodwig. The victory was hard-won, solidifying their status as a force to be reckoned with and most importantly fortifying Alberic's faith in Aonène. Following this triumph, Alberic was dispatched to the coast to secure an alliance with Coralie D’Ambois, the cunning, powerful yet unpredictable Corsair empress. As Alberic approaches the sprawling Corsair encampment, he reflects on how far he had come. From a boy seeking vengeance to a man standing at the crossroads of history, he knows the stakes havd never been higher and with the war barely beginning the question remains: can he reconcile his personal quest with his duty to the Dawnbringer and the future she promised?

Empire of the Clouds

---

Smoke and Steel

Was in the old thread as you know, but for the benefit of new players knowledge;

Name: Alberic Thorel
Species/Race: Monchian
Sex: Male
Age: 30
Court Alignment: White Wyvern + The Dawnbringer
Role: Captain & Personal Guard of the Dawnbringer
Appearance:

Hider

Strengths and Weaknesses

Skills:
Combat Expertise: Alberic is a seasoned fighter, skilled in the use of various weapons such as swords, firearms, and naval tactics. His Corsair background has honed his abilities in both skirmishes and larger battles, making him a valuable asset in combat situations. He is also capable of swimming, as most Monchians are.

Loyalty and Dedication: Once Alberic gives his loyalty, he is unwavering. His commitment to Aonène and the cause of the Dawnbringer is steadfast, even when faced with personal challenges or competing goals like his quest for vengeance.

Unconventional Fighter: Alberic is an experienced strategist, especially in unconventional warfare. His time with the Corsairs taught him to outmaneuver larger, better-equipped forces, which translates well to land battles.

Resilience and Endurance: Alberic’s difficult past has made him physically and emotionally tough. He can endure harsh conditions and recover from setbacks quickly.

Weaknesses:

Revenge-Driven: Alberic’s fixation on finding Warin Montfault can cloud his judgment and lead him to prioritize personal vendettas over the broader goals of the cause, putting himself and others at risk.

Reluctant Diplomat: While capable of inspiring those under his command, Alberic struggles with the more delicate aspects of diplomacy, often favoring bluntness over tact, which can alienate potential allies though it may have an positive effect on certain individuals.

Haunted by the Past: The trauma of losing his family and his inability to save his sister weigh heavily on him, sometimes leading to bouts of self-doubt or impulsive behavior.

Background:

Backstory: Born 30 years ago in the bustling port city of Vich, Alberic Thorel was the son of humble merchant parents. His early years were spent learning the intricacies of commerce and seafaring, skills passed down from his father, a seasoned trader navigating the Circle Sea. Alberic’s childhood brimmed with the clamor of docks, the salt tang of the sea, and bustling trade with distant lands. His father taught him the art of ship handling, haggling, and discerning quality goods—a foundation for a promising future in trade.

Fate, however, had other plans. On a routine voyage, Alberic's family ship was ambushed by the notorious pirates of Emiddley, long-time enemies of Vich. Despite their valiant defense with limited weapons, they were overpowered. Alberic's father fell first, protecting his son, while his mother and younger brother were ruthlessly gunned down. Alberic fought fiercely to protect his sister, Meli, but was overwhelmed. He watched in horror as the pirates dragged Meli away, their leader—Warin "Grey Beard" Montfault—mocking him with a chilling promise: "The seas shall bring you no mercy, boy."

Left for dead on the sinking vessel, Alberic felt the cold embrace of the sea pulling him under. Yet, as darkness encroached, he awoke aboard another ship. The Corsairs of Vich had intervened too late to save his family but in time to save him. Towering above the injured boy stood Gerart of the Corsair League, an imposing figure with white hair, a scarred face. Despite his intimidating appearance, Gerart's voice was kind. “You have spirit,” he told Alberic. “Join us, fight for justice, and bring honor to Vich.”

With nothing left to lose, Alberic accepted the Corsair’s offer, setting him on a path of vengeance and transformation.

Under Gerart’s mentorship, Alberic grew into a formidable Corsair. He fought against Emiddleyan raiders, Orcs from the Blighted Lands, and even encountered Filipanasans from the mysterious east. Each victory sharpened his skills and brought him closer to avenging his family. His ultimate target was Warin "Grey Beard," the man responsible for his family's demise, but Montfault had vanished, rumored to have fled to the mainland.

Determined to track him down, Alberic proposed a reconnaissance mission to the Inburian coast, ostensibly to scout Haltian shipping routes. Gerart, though suspecting Alberic’s ulterior motives, approved the mission. Alberic’s ship, however, was ambushed by the Halthians. Their caravel was destroyed in a fiery explosion, and Alberic was captured, bound for the Haltian-controlled mainland.

Alberic’s captivity ended when he was freed by two unlikely individuals: Vassos, a deserting Haltian Owned Man, and Andronika Hasikos, a sharp-witted peasant girl revealed to be a descendant of the old Inburian dynasty. Together, they liberated a group of prisoners, including Aonène de Bellièvre, a fellow Monchian. Their escape marked the beginning of a rebellion against the Haltian Empire.

As the group faced numerous trials, Aonène’s true identity emerged. Her sword glowed with a divine light, revealing her as the prophesied Dawnbringer, destined to save the world from the Blight. For Alberic, the revelation was transformative. No longer driven solely by revenge, he saw Aonène as the Uniter of the Circle, capable of ending the centuries-old feud between Vich and Emiddley and leading the Isles to greatness.

Despite his newfound purpose, Alberic’s quest for vengeance against Montfault lingered like a shadow. The two paths—duty and revenge—pulled at him, forcing him to confront the man he had become and the man he wished to be.

Alberic fought alongside Andronika and Aonène to repel a Haltian army at Tregodwig. The victory was hard-won, solidifying their status as a force to be reckoned with and most importantly fortifying Alberic's faith in Aonène. Following this triumph, Alberic was dispatched to the coast to secure an alliance with Coralie D’Ambois, the cunning, powerful yet unpredictable Corsair empress. As Alberic approaches the sprawling Corsair encampment, he reflects on how far he had come. From a boy seeking vengeance to a man standing at the crossroads of history, he knows the stakes havd never been higher and with the war barely beginning the question remains: can he reconcile his personal quest with his duty to the Dawnbringer and the future she promised?