Chapter 546: The End of Screaming Island

Screaming Island, the cradle from which the Fleming family arose.

As the grandson of Count Alfonso, Facundo had naturally assumed control of the family affairs following his grandfather's disappearance and his father's demise within the Golden Feather Palace.

"What am I to do?"

He paced back and forth across the castle hall without pause, as frantic as an ant stranded upon a searing hearth.

Though he had not journeyed to the City of the Golden Feather himself, he was well aware of the unfolding events.

The recent grand council of nobles had passed judgment not only upon Crown Prince Garrett, but also upon the houses of Ferens, Vera, and Fleming.

Unsurprisingly, the Fleming family had been stripped of their noble titles and fiefdoms; barring any unforeseen miracles, war would soon descend upon Screaming Island.

"Ronin!"

His mind could not help but drift back to a few years prior, to the days when he, alongside Sally, Cross, and Harrington, had bullied Ronin within the confines of the Golden Feather Palace.

Back then, they had merely deemed Ronin somewhat formidable, yet far from unmanageable.

Yet a mere few years had slipped by, and that youth had transformed into a monster far beyond their reach, an entity they could never hope to rival.

Now, let alone raising a blade against Ronin, he lacked even the courage to stand before him.

A Legend—such was the existence that struck terror into his heart and caused his entire house to tremble.

"Sally has already perished in Moonlight Valley, and Cross and Harrington are surely bound to follow in her footsteps. Is the destiny of the four of us truly so tragically intertwined?"

Once upon a time, their fathers and grandfathers—the rulers of Screaming Island, Moonlight Valley, the Duchy of Ferensburg, and the Duchy of Vera—had schemed to unite and diminish the authority of Bruno.

Who could have foreseen that, one by one, they would now be hurtling into the abyss of hell.

"What must be done?"

Ferensburg and the Duchy of Vera shared borders with the Kingdom of Tricia, allowing them to seek asylum with the enemy nation in their hour of need.

Yet his own Screaming Island languished deep within the heartland of the Kingdom of Alduin; save for the eastern voyage across the Screaming Sea and then southward, every other direction was choked by the territories of the kingdom's loyal nobility.

The Kingdom of Tricia would never cross ten thousand miles of ocean to reinforce the Fleming family.

"Whoosh!"

A sudden, violent gust of wind, heavy with the briny scent of the great sea, swept into the hall, and just as Facundo despaired over his plight, a hoary, white-haired elder materialized before him.

Though well advanced in years, the man possessed an undiminished vitality; notably, upon alighting, a pair of immense wings folded tightly against his back, their form clearly marking him as a remnant of Thranduil's lineage.

The Windbringers were unlike the Witch-Soul Knights; they would not perish merely because Thranduil had fallen.

Myron had spent these past years traversing the lands in search of a breakthrough, yet his efforts had been entirely in vain.

He had thought his latent talent had reached its zenith, rendering further advancement impossible for the rest of his days, never expecting to encounter Thranduil over a year ago.

The power of the Storm Heart had not only granted him the ability to soar freely through the heavens, but had also heightened his chances of achieving a breakthrough.

Thus, not long ago, he had been fortunate enough to ascend to the rank of Grand Mage; he had returned intending to celebrate, only to find himself a white-haired elder mourning his dark-haired son.

"Grandfather!"

Facundo stood frozen for a moment before bursting into pure joy: "You have finally returned!"

He could not help but rush to the elder's side, passionately recounting the tribulations that had befallen their house, placing particular emphasis on the grim reality that his father, Myron, had been slain by Ronin.

Regrettably, even his grandfather Alfonso, despite having broken through to become a Grand Mage, was no match for Ronin.

"I am already aware of what befell your father. There remains but a single path open to us now, my child. Gather your things and leave this place with me!"

"Leave?"

Facundo staggered back two paces in sheer bewilderment, his countenance turning deathly pale.

Such an outcome was something he simply could not bring himself to accept.

Yet, as he carefully weighed the words his grandfather Alfonso had just uttered, he was forced to concede that this was indeed their sole recourse.

Screaming Island lay nestled deep within the kingdom's interior; now that they had been condemned, the surrounding lords from every direction would likely converge to crush them, and though the Fleming family bore the illustrious title of "Overlords of the Screaming Sea," they remained powerless to stem such a tide.

"Where shall we go?"

he inquired, a tremor rippling through his voice. "If we depart, our house will be left with absolutely nothing!"

A flash of righteous fury kindled within Alfonso's eyes, softening into a deep pity as his gaze fell upon Facundo.

"So long as we draw breath, hope endures!"

he declared with fierce conviction. "King Tyro of Tricia has already given me his word; he is willing to bestow upon me a domain equal in measure to Screaming Island! As long as we survive, we shall rise again sooner or later!"

Facundo nodded silently; though his heart swelled with profound reluctance, he understood that this was the ultimate price for the survival of both his lineage and himself.

He began to command the servants to pack their belongings, preparing to abandon Screaming Island, the theater of their erstwhile glory.

As the heavy shroud of night descended, Facundo and Count Alfonso led the elite remnants of their house aboard several swift vessels.

Under the cover of darkness, they slipped away from Screaming Island in absolute silence, vanishing into the vast, boundless sea.

Yet their flight had been so hurried that they failed to properly conceal their tracks.

At the docks of Screaming Island, a man dressed in the guise of a mariner tugged down the brim of his black sailor's cap, murmuring, "I must report this to the Viscount at once."

Torrent Island.

Escorted by Carlos, Elron arrived upon these shores to deliver Ronin's mandates to the youthful governor standing before him.

Upon receiving Ronin's decrees, Karada could not contain his exhilaration and burst into a resounding laugh.

At long last, Torrent Island was to have a war of its very own.

Ever since he had pledged his allegiance to Ronin, he had watched from afar as Macken, Rydal, and the others constantly waged war, while Torrent Island had done nothing but quietly build its strength.

Over the past two years, leveraging the prosperous industries of Torrent Island and invoking Ronin's prestigious name, he had drawn numerous professional knights of humble birth yet considerable power from Oxhorn Bay to enlist under his banner.

By now, the naval forces of Torrent Island boasted not only two fully complemented knightly orders, but their fleet had also expanded to include ten grand warships!

The soldiers had long since grown weary of their monotonous daily drills; whenever tidings of the Duke's triumphs reached their ears, they would clamor to know when their own hour of battle would arrive.

Now, the opportunity had finally presented itself!

"Lucen, summon all the captains to the port hall immediately. Tell them I have military orders to proclaim!"

"Right away, Governor!"

Karada gazed out across the rolling waves with immense anticipation, his vision seemingly piercing the distance to strike Screaming Island itself.

The shocking upheaval within the royal capital carried momentous repercussions, yet as a loyal vassal of Ronin, Karada recognized this as an unprecedented, monumental opportunity—one that, if grasped firmly, would undoubtedly alter the course of his destiny.

"Lord Elron, I shall take my leave to attend to these matters first,"

Karada spoke with deep reverence. "It is high time for Partridge to prove his worth!"

During the previous conflict, the Viscount of Crescent Island had been captured and turned; Karada was determined to have him defect at the most opportune moment during this upcoming campaign against Screaming Island, thereby maximizing the devastation.

Elron nodded in assent. "Go then. I shall be staying at the Monroe Flower estate these next few days; simply send someone to apprise me when it is time to set sail."

Though Karada was the commander for this expedition against Screaming Island, Elron and Carlos would accompany the fleet to deal with the enemy's magic cannons and the elusive Count Alfonso, who had kept his true strength carefully hidden.

"Since you and the dragon have arrived, it is time for me to take my leave as well."

Having received Ronin's entrustment, Belora had been assisting with the defense here for some time; unfortunately, the enemy had never shown, rendering his days of waiting entirely fruitless.

"As you wish, Lord Count."

Elron bowed slightly. "You've gone to much trouble lately!"

Berola laughed. "Trouble? There's no trouble at all—though it's a pity Ronin gave me those dragon scales for nothing."

He longed to return to the cave in Wubei territory and resume his magical research, but upon hearing of the upheaval in the capital, he knew that as Marquis of the Amethyst Domain, he ought to visit his lands once more, to guide his great-grandson Landel’s next steps.

And really, it was quite simple—just remember one phrase: “Follow Ronin, and there’ll be meat on your plate.” (End of Chapter)