A warm haze rose off the sun-baked docks as Kano worked alongside a half-dozen fishermen, hauling planks and rope for the village's new watch post. The salty air stung his eyes. Sweat trickled down his neck, mingling with the brine that clung to Coral Spit's humid climate. He paused to rub a sore shoulder, scanning the makeshift construction site for any sign of trouble.
So far, no open conflict—just a buzz of cautious cooperation. Under the council's reluctant blessing, the Sea-Glass family had recruited volunteers to build a small lookout tower near the main pier, part of the new defensive measures. Many villagers cast uneasy glances at Kano, but they no longer shunned him; the success of the pirate raid still lingered in their memory, enough to override lingering suspicions.
"Pass me that beam!" called Nallo, scar-faced and broad-shouldered, from atop a half-finished platform.
"Got it," Kano replied, hoisting the wooden plank upward. Nallo grabbed it and hammered it into place, the rhythmic thud echoing over the water.
A cluster of onlookers hovered nearby: some curious, others quietly measuring the Sea-Glass family's every move. Reina, shawl tied back, helped direct the few laborers who had carpentry skills. Marro, though no trained carpenter himself, used his experience mending boats to advise on bracing and rope lashings. Their synergy lent the build a surprising speed—within a few days, the skeleton of the tower might stand firm above the stilted piers.
Still, an undercurrent of unease lingered. Every so often, Kano thought he glimpsed watchful faces peering from hut windows—villagers who hadn't quite decided whether to trust or resent the new order of things. He could almost feel their whispered questions: Are the Sea-Glass really on our side, or do they have some hidden Stormrún agenda?
He tried to focus on the immediate task. One board at a time, he reminded himself. If he and his family stayed consistent—helpful, transparent—perhaps the council's fragile acceptance would hold.
"Fewer distractions, Sea-Glass!" teased Tima, the lanky youth who'd fought pirates at Kano's side. He nudged Kano's elbow, smirking. "We've gotta have this done before we grow old."
Kano allowed a wry grin. "Right. On it."
Yet even as he resumed work, his thoughts drifted to the horizon. It had been just over a week since Brannis sailed away, promising to seek out Stormrún loyalists and muster outside aid. No word had come, and likely none would for some time. The sense of forging this tower—an anchor for Coral Spit's defense—felt both necessary and painfully small compared to the looming danger of Valrakan's Name-breakers.
A shout from the far end of the pier snapped him out of his reverie. He squinted to see a figure running toward them—Aila, the midwife, shawl flapping in the warm breeze. Anxiety etched her features as she reached Kano and Marro, breath hitching.
"What's wrong?" Reina asked, tension lining her brow.
Aila pressed a palm to her chest. "Trouble. Council trouble. Some new arrival from a neighboring island—a self-styled 'envoy.' The council's ushering them into the hall right now. Word is they're investigating rumors of a 'broken-named' family stirring up conflict."
Kano's heart lurched. They must mean us. "An envoy? From where?" he managed, voice tight.
Aila shook her head. "He calls himself Sigurd Gladewind, says he's an 'official liaison' for a House from across the sea. Maybe Pelglød or Marintai—nobody's sure. But Elder Hani is giving him a formal audience. It…doesn't look friendly."
Marro exchanged a taut glance with Reina. "They might suspect us of stirring something larger than a pirate raid. Or perhaps they heard the name Stormrún bandied about."
Kano wiped sweaty palms on his trousers. "Either way, we need to find out what he wants. The council meets in secret sometimes—but maybe we can't afford to wait for an invitation."
Nallo climbed down from the platform, hearing the tail end of the conversation. "If you need me, say the word," he offered, uncharacteristically subdued. He'd seen how quickly the council could turn on the Sea-Glass family. "We'll keep building here, but if you're in trouble…"
Kano forced a half-smile. "Appreciate it. Keep the watch post going. That alone proves we're not trying to undermine Coral Spit—just protect it."
Nallo nodded, returning to his hammering. Meanwhile, Aila hovered, concern plain on her face. "Go quickly," she urged. "The envoy seemed…cunning."
Decision made, Kano, Marro, and Reina set aside their tools. With a final glance at the half-built tower—symbol of the new, precarious alliance—they left the pier behind. The wind off the sea ruffled Kano's hair, a reminder of the restlessness he felt inside. We fight for a fragile peace, he told himself, but outside forces keep creeping in.
He couldn't help remembering Brannis's warning: Valrakan might not be their only threat; unscrupulous Houses or meddling envoys could pose just as much danger in a land where Names and alliances held deep power. Regardless, they had to face whoever this Sigurd Gladewind was—and hope they could stand their ground in the name of Coral Spit and Stormrún alike.
By the time Kano and his parents reached the council hall, a small throng of onlookers had already gathered. An uneasy murmur rippled through the crowd, rising in intensity whenever someone glimpsed the newcomer within. Standing on her makeshift dais was Elder Hani, posture stiff, hands gripping her cane. Flanking her were two councilors, frowning as they spoke in low voices with a stranger in a greenish-gray travel cloak.
He was tall, with lean features and pale hair pulled back in a tight braid. A polished clasp at his throat bore an unfamiliar sigil—something like a stylized swirl of wind and leaves. He radiated the self-assured air of one used to commanding an audience. At a glance, Sigurd Gladewind could've been a merchant, but the way he stood—arms folded, surveying the place with clinical interest—suggested something else. Perhaps a diplomat used to having the upper hand.
"State your business plainly," Hani was saying, voice pitched to carry. "You claim to be an envoy, yet offer no proof but your words."
Sigurd smiled, a quick, polished gesture. "I have letters from my liege, House Gladewind," he replied smoothly, rummaging in his satchel. "Admittedly, we're not a grand House. We're a minor branch, and our seat is far across the sea. But we keep an ear to the rumors circulating among these isles."
At that moment, the crowd parted slightly to let Kano, Marro, and Reina edge closer. One of the watchmen frowned at them, but allowed them through—perhaps remembering that the Sea-Glass family had some standing now. Elder Hani spotted them, her gaze flicking with guarded respect.
"Sea-Glass," she acknowledged, cane tapping once on the wooden floor. "Seems you've arrived just in time to hear Master Gladewind's…concerns."
"Concerns about what?" Marro ventured, voice calm but firm.
Sigurd's pale eyes swept over the three of them, lingering on Kano just a shade longer—enough to make Kano's spine prickle. "About rumors," Sigurd answered, inclining his head in a show of polite greeting. "Rumors of a fallen House's essence stirring in these waters. Of so-called Name-breakers and dragons enslaved. Of a tarnished lineage, once scorned, now rising to power."
A hush fell, broken only by the shuffling of feet. Reina's jaw tightened, and Kano felt a twist of dread. This was precisely what they'd feared: an outsider poking at the tenuous balance they'd achieved.
Sigurd chuckled softly. "My House—and our allies—are deeply interested in stability. We've heard Coral Spit was… how to put it? Shaken by recent events." His lips curled in a faint smirk. "I arrived to see if these rumors are true. If so, we might offer assistance—under certain conditions."
Elder Hani's knuckles whitened on her cane. "Our village is not under threat at present. We appreciate any friendly contact, but we haven't asked for interference."
Sigurd's gaze swept the gathered villagers, most of whom looked uncertain at best. "No, perhaps you haven't," he said, "but clearly you've faced pirates, and there's chatter of a warlord named Valrakan ravaging nearby isles. You could use allies. House Gladewind might be one, if your council is willing to talk terms."
Marro exhaled, stilling the flicker of tension in his expression. "That might be so… but what does that have to do with a 'fallen House's essence?' That rumor doesn't concern us."
The envoy's eyes narrowed. "Doesn't it, though?" He turned a slow circle, letting his words hang. "I've heard mention of Stormrún, spoken in these parts. Something about a wounded soldier claiming old alliances. And more recently, a group calling themselves Stormrún's allies driving off a pirate skiff."
A stiff silence seized the air. Kano's heartbeat thundered. He's cornering us. The mention of their raid—boasting Stormrún's name—was apparently known beyond Coral Spit's shores. Whether Sigurd was truly from a minor House or not, he'd latched onto a powerful thread that could unravel everything.
"So," Sigurd continued in his smooth tone, "I come here to see if House Stormrún—dead though it may be—actually stirs. Because if it does… certain factions would pay handsomely to either snuff it out or lay claim to its Name."
Kano tried not to let alarm show on his face. Instead, he glanced at Hani, who stood rigidly, mulling her response. The elder's expression revealed her own misgivings: the last thing Coral Spit needed was a proxy war over rumored Stormrún powers.
Before Hani could speak, Reina cleared her throat. "We are Coral Spit's defenders—nothing more. If House Stormrún ever returns, I imagine it would seek true allies, not manipulative bargains."
Sigurd's smirk curled wider. "And if I suspect you're hiding that House within your ranks, disguised under a tarnished name?" He let the question hang, a hint of threat in his voice. "I might decide you're part of something bigger—and less innocent—than you appear."
Kano felt a flare of anger, mixed with the chill of fear. He's testing us, trying to see if we'll slip. Now, in front of the entire council, they had to handle this carefully. One false move, and Sigurd might twist Coral Spit into a target or turn them into scapegoats for his "allies."
Elder Hani tightened her grip on her cane. "If you have no direct cause for complaint, Master Gladewind, then perhaps you'd best sail on. Our village welcomes peaceful trade, not insinuations."
Sigurd inclined his head in a mock polite bow. "I shall take my leave soon enough, but my House remains…curious. Should any of you learn where Stormrún's essence might be found, or how it survived, our doors would be open to negotiation. And if no such essence exists, well… all the better for your quiet life here."
Tension crackled, the entire crowd holding its breath. The envoy slid a folded parchment onto the council's rickety table. "A letter from House Gladewind, detailing the terms of alliance we might consider, if you ever require protection. Once you've decided, send a messenger." Then he tapped the brim of an invisible hat and pivoted, striding through the gathered villagers as though the conversation was finished.
The moment he left, hushed whispers erupted. Hani and her councilors exchanged grim looks, and more than one villager flicked uneasy glances at Kano and his parents. The tension felt like a tight coil waiting to snap.
At last, Hani addressed the watchers in a low voice. "Enough gawking. We'll review this 'letter.' For now, carry on with your day. We do not require outside interference." Her eyes swept over Kano, pausing. "Sea-Glass…we must speak further. But not here."
With that, she dismissed them all, turning to the council's private discussions. Kano let out a shaky breath, stepping away with Marro and Reina. Outside, the midday sun beat down on Coral Spit's boardwalk, intensifying the heat that matched the swirl of worry in his gut.
"So much for a quiet morning," he muttered.
Marro grimaced. "We knew Stormrún's name would stir trouble if it spread too far."
Reina rubbed her temples. "We'll need to tread carefully. If more houses or factions show up, suspecting Stormrún is here…"
They let the unspoken threat linger: Anyone looking to exploit or destroy Stormrún might seize on this rumor. And with Brannis gone, the burden of secrets fell squarely on the Sea-Glass family's shoulders.
As they stepped away from the council hall, villagers parted again—this time in wary confusion. Some looked ready to rally behind the Sea-Glass family, others debated whether the envoy's words hinted at bigger, darker machinations. Whatever happens next, Kano thought, we'd better be ready.
The brassy sun still hung high above Coral Spit when Kano, Marro, and Reina found themselves in the council's cramped "private" chamber—a leaning annex of sun-bleached planks that jutted from the main hall. The air inside felt thick, as though holding its breath alongside the people within.
Elder Hani and two of her fellow councilors waited, perched on rickety stools around a small wooden table. One of them, a narrow-faced man, clutched the folded parchment Sigurd Gladewind had left. The other, a stocky woman with a single silver braid, eyed the Sea-Glass family with a tight-lipped expression somewhere between wariness and faint trust.
Hani gestured for them to sit on a bench across the table. "This is not an official council session," she began, cane resting against her knee. "But these 'terms of alliance' the envoy spoke of—along with talk of a reawakened House Stormrún—concern us deeply. We must address it before rumors fester."
Marro kept his posture neutral, though tension ran through his shoulders. "We've never heard of House Gladewind," he said. "They might be genuine, or they might just be opportunists fishing for advantage."
Reina dipped her head in agreement. "Either way, we suspect they want to profit from any resurgence of Stormrún's name—whether by claiming it or snuffing it out, as Sigurd suggested."
The stocky councilor scowled, thumb running over a scar on her chin. "If that's so, then Coral Spit stands in the crossfire of larger politics. Last time we let outsiders in without caution, pirates started creeping into our waters."
Hani tapped the table gently. "Precisely. We do not wish to be pawns in another House's power games." She shifted her gaze to Kano. "Yet the envoy named you—Sea-Glass—among those using Stormrún's name. He implied you might be hiding a greater claim."
Kano stiffened, feeling a swirl of anxiety. She's fishing for the truth. But if we reveal Tariq's essence… He swallowed, then spoke carefully, "We're not Stormrún. We invoked the name when we drove off the pirates because it carried weight. Everyone knows Stormrún was once a great House, fallen in a glorious stand. People feared it or respected it. That's all."
A hush followed. The councilors exchanged glances, unconvinced yet not openly hostile. Hani exhaled. "Even so, Gladewind's arrival suggests rumors travel fast. He's left us this 'alliance letter.'" She gestured toward the folded parchment. "It offers trade, potential defense—but it requires 'exclusive rights' to certain resources, plus a vow that Coral Spit will quell any 'rogue claims' of a resurrected House Stormrún."
Marro's brow furrowed. "Meaning they want us to crush anyone who actually tries to carry Stormrún's banner. They'd use us to do their dirty work."
The narrow-faced councilor sniffed in disapproval. "Exactly. And if we refuse, Gladewind may claim we harbor Stormrún loyalists—giving them an excuse to meddle here anyway."
Reina shot a worried glance at Kano. "This is a trap, plain and simple. If we sign with them, we become complicit in enforcing their will. If we refuse, they might spin it that we're 'protecting Stormrún' after all."
Hani's expression darkened. "Which leaves us with a dilemma: do we cut ourselves off from all potential alliances, or do we risk entanglement with unknown powers? We were already preparing defenses against pirates. Now we must watch for House Gladewind's manipulations."
A ripple of silent tension passed through the room. Kano forced himself to steady his voice. "We can keep building up Coral Spit's watch posts, strengthen our community, and remain neutral for now. If Sigurd or his allies return, we'll show them we won't be bullied—or enticed by false promises."
The stocky councilor eyed him. "Neutral, yes. But how to ensure they don't label our neutrality as covert hostility?"
Marro folded his arms. "We gather more information. If Brannis returns with news of real Stormrún survivors or allied Houses who oppose Valrakan and the Name-breakers, maybe we can form a coalition of equals—rather than bowing to Gladewind's demands."
Hani considered his words, drumming her fingers on the table. "Coral Spit does not seek war. But we won't let ourselves become pawns. For now, the council will politely decline Gladewind's proposal, citing insufficient resources. We'll keep watch for any further intrusions."
She turned her cane slowly, eyes flicking between Kano and his parents. "Yet I must ask: if Stormrún truly does stir—if there's any chance it might reemerge—would you warn us before it draws trouble to Coral Spit?"
An uneasy hush followed. Kano felt the unspoken weight of Tariq Stormrún's essence coiling within him, the secret that Brannis had guarded. Revealing it here could unite them—or blow everything apart. He chose his words carefully. "If Stormrún was to rise, it would need allies, not victims. Coral Spit would be the first to know."
It wasn't a full lie, yet not the full truth either. The councilors exchanged subtle nods, apparently content enough for now. Hani dipped her chin. "Then we rely on your honesty. If House Gladewind, or any other power, returns seeking conflict, we expect the Sea-Glass family to stand with us—openly, as you did against the pirates."
Marro bowed slightly. "We will."
With that, Hani dismissed them, instructing the watchmen outside to let the family leave unescorted—an understated courtesy. Kano exhaled once he stepped into the open air, relieved to leave the cramped annex behind. The midday sun glared, but it felt better than the stifling tension within.
Reina looked grim. "We dodged a dagger point here, but the threat remains. Word of 'Stormrún' is out there, and if Gladewind came sniffing, others might follow."
Marro nodded. "At least we've gained some measure of the council's trust. If a bigger crisis comes, they'll likely turn to us—whether they fully trust us or not."
Kano gazed past the huts and stilted walkways, toward the shimmering sea. The warm breeze carried the taste of salt, tinged with possibility and unease. This fragile alliance… can it hold if more Houses try to exploit the rumor of Stormrún? He recalled Brannis's parting vow to bring help. If he failed, or if other Houses arrived with worse intentions, Coral Spit's newfound unity could crack like driftwood in a storm.
Still, a flicker of determination stirred inside him—an echo of the heroic stand in his dreams, the legacy of a House that refused to bow to tyranny. Stormrún might be broken, but its essence lived on in him, urging him forward. We'll face what comes, one tide at a time, he told himself.
Together with his parents, he walked away from the council hall, hearts weighed down by the knowledge that Coral Spit's safety now depended on the delicate balance between refusing manipulative outsiders and guarding a secret that could reshape the entire archipelago.