The Midsea was peaceful. The waves gently crashed against the wood of the ship, and a gentle wind touched the peak of the waves. It was hard to imagine that not so long ago, the blue waters of the Midsea were turned red with blood. It had been fifteen years since the Great War ended at the Balen Hall, but Kline never forgot, he couldn't.
He had claimed the throne of Miriela, united The Realm, all five of Miriela's kingdoms were now under his rule. But he knew that thrones were often difficult to take and easy to lose.
"The pack should be nearby," Said one of the ship's crewman.
"Well, Captain Hallaway, it seems they indeed have gone quite a long way since the last hunt," Kline responded.
The Mirielan whales were hard to track, and even more difficult to hunt. They were large beasts, powerful enough to crush through a large ship with one lift of a tailfin. But as deadly as the beasts could be, the reward of a kill was worth the danger. Their meat was enough to feed many, their fat, skin, and bones, built homes warm enough to stand through the winters.
The last time Kline had hunted them, they had been on the Western coast of Miriela, in the Farsea. But the crew had tracked them, and the whales were now in the East, and somewhere close.
"Blood in the water. A fresh kill. They're nearby. Ready, men!" Yelled the captain of the ship. The crew's men all took hold of an oar and began to row. Others stood ready with spears and eyes peeled upon the still waters.
"Captain," Said a crewman, as he looked over the side of the ship. Kline joined Captain Hallaway and walked from the head of the ship to see what it was the crewmen had reported.
Kline leaned over the side of the ship and his eyes fell upon a horrible sight. Bodies, stained red by their own blood, floated past the ship, Westward towards the Mirielan shore.
"Kill from the whales?" Asked the crewman.
"No. Whales don't leave any bit of their kill behind. These men died from steel. What was left of the Oaksguard fleet it seems. Their armor bears the sigil."
As the endless number of bodies continued to float past the ship, they washed closer to the hull. Their armor, painted with a white Oaktree, was pierced. Arrows and swords, pushed through the flesh of the grey corpses, stood out from the water like the heads of serpents.
"Pull one of them aboard," Kline said. But everyone stood frozen, confused at the King's odd request. "Now! You, pull one of them aboard!" Kline yelled at the crewmen who had called them over.
The crewmen frantically tossed a fastened rope overboard and repelled to grasp hold of a body. Other crewmen came to assist and pulled the two aboard. The wet heavy body, pale and empty of life, flopped aboard like a caught fish.
A single arrow stuck out from his chest, with a red feathered tip that Kline had not forgotten. The king quickly approached the man and pulled an arrow from the corpse. The arrow head was white, shaped like a star, and made of ivory. Kline had only seen such an arrow once before, during The Great War.
"These men were killed by a tribe of Esternlund," Kline said quietly to himself.
"But, Your Grace, you defeated them years ago. Surely, it cannot be," Captain Hallaway said.
Kline stood staring at the red feather tip of the arrow. He knew that someone would one day come to take his land, and his throne. But he had hoped that it would again be the tribe from the East.
The Realm was still unprepared for a battle of such magnitude. Most of the people were starving, and the war-torn cities of Oaksgaurd and Cranst were still being rebuilt, and their political infrastructure regained.
Kline heard Captain Hallaway, but he chose not to respond. The thought of Esternlund troops, ready again for war, possessed him. Fear crippled his body and held his tongue. He tossed the arrow back into the sea and turned to face Captain Hallaway.
"Port side!" Shouted one of the crewmen.
Suddenly, the stillness of the water broke, and a beast emerged from the depths. Kline grasped the side of the ship and watched, as a massive whale surfaced to swallow several of the floating corpses. It returned to the waters with a violent splash, that sent the ship rocking desperately back and forth. As the whale disappeared again into the depths, another appeared. Soon, there were three. They were the largest whales Kline had ever seen, and they crushed the bones of the dead men in a bloody feast.
"Harpoons," Shouted Captain Hallaway. As the waters splashed high into the air and crashed upon the ship, the crew unleashed a storm of harpoons down on the beast below. Kline ran towards the mast of the ship, where harpoons, longer than the height of two men, sat ready for use.
He picked up one of the wooden spears, large enough to pierce through the thick armor of the whale, and returned to the portside. As he returned to the chaos, Kline watched as a tailfin emerged from the waters and thrust towards the ship. It crashed against it and sent ten men periling to their watery grave.
Captain Hallaway hurled harpoon after harpoon down towards the beasts and Kline soon joined him. The entire crew, three or four hundred men, all joined in the attack at the monsters who thrashed in the bloody waters below. But it seemed that none of them were hitting anything in the red waters.
The whales moved too fast. Thy surfaced to feed upon the floating bodies and then returned deep below the waters, where harpoons simply could not reach. Before long, the bodies were no more and all that remained was an unsettled sea, chopping waves, and an undeniable angst, which brewed within Kline's very core.
"Hold harpoons," Captain Hallaway order. The command was relayed down the ship, and soon the stillness returned. Every man stood, waiting with anticipation. Kline slowly grasped another harpoon and held it tightly, with his eyes peeled upon the water.
As he watched below, the faint shadow of a whale emerged, deep below the surface, so faint that he could hardly see it at all. He took the harpoon and walked quickly to the starboard side.
"Kline, what are you doing?" Captain Hallaway shouted. But Kline paid him no mind. He had hunted the whales for years and he knew how not to end up dead in the water.
He reached the other side of the ship, where he stood alone. All of the others had been drawn to the portside. Just as he arrived, the largest of the three beasts broke through the still sea and thrust its body towards him.
As the whale emerged, its belly was exposed, and Kline delivered a sharp bladed harpoon to meet it. The beast let out a desperate cry and black blood spewed from it into the sea. Other crewmen soon threw harpoons of their own, now able to hit the slow and wounded animal.
The net was readied and cast over the whale like a cage. More spears soon pierced its thick blubber and the whale was dead. The other two remained hidden in the depths of the waters, far from harm.
"I vouched for you, when the High Council spoke out against you joining me on this hunt. When they said we should simply buy our whale and our fish from the Guild. That we shouldn't be risking one of the only ships we have left, let alone our King. But I vouched for you still, and I did so under one condition," Captain Hallaway said.
"That I wouldn't get myself killed," Kline responded. "Well, I'm still breathing, aren't I? And we have a whale." The crew continued to fetch the beast from the water and fasten what parts of it could be brought back with them to Ferenor.
"Another successful hunt together, Kline," Said John Hallaway. But Kline was far from content. There was a beast much more dangerous which would soon emerge from the waters. It was a beast which had nearly killed him years ago, and its return haunted him each night in his sleep. It was the Easternlund army, and they would soon again crash upon the shores of Miriela.
Kline knew that the High Council must be made aware. He would call them to meet at the Overland Hall as soon as he returned to Ferenor. But in his desperation, in the fear of another war, one that he may not be able to win, Kline wished that the words of the old priest had been true. He so desperately wished that he had within his walls, the Shadowborn. For the power of the Shadowborn may be the only thing capable of defeating the Esternlund army and defending his throne for good.