Release That Witch

Through the narrow and high window on veranda, the setting sun shone its scarlet light on the floor and imprinted vermilion strips on the wall.     

In the whole kingdom, there were only a few places left, where one could still see sunsets, and Port of Clearwater was one of them. It was rumored that the Months of Demons in which heavy snows and storms prevailed had almost no influence on this place. Apart from the fact that Blacksail Fleet couldn't sail forth from the harbor, the whole city was as busy as usual.     

The lord of this harbor city, Garcia Wimbledon, was sitting at the table below the window and reading the letter in her hand attentively. Her gray hair had a tinge of gold in the setting sun. And the play of shadow and light on her face made her features even sharper, lending it even more charm and audacity.     

Ryan had stood beside her for quite a while.     

Though the letter had occupied the queen longer than usual, Ryan chose to wait quietly aside, for he doesn't want to be the one who disturbs the peace in this room.     

At last, Garcia let out a sigh and put down the letter.     

"My father died."     

Ryan was dazed for a moment until he said: "What?"     

"My father, Ayling Wimbledon, the King of the Kingdom of Graycastle, has died."     

She seldom repeated what she had said, he thought to himself. She would have ignored his question if she had reacted according to her usual manner. But couldn't she be joking? Could the king really be dead?     

"..." Ryan opened his mouth in attempt to comfort her, but his words turned to a question: "how did he die?"     

Fortunately, Garcia took no notice of all this psychological activity — she was Princess Garcia, Lord of the Port of Clearwater, the Supreme Commander of Blacksail Fleet, and cared for no one's comforting, "The letter said, it was my brother Gerald who killed the father and was later caught by the guards. He didn't commit suicide to escape punishment, so the Hand of the King and a few other ministers made him go through a public trial and sentenced him to decapitation."     

"This couldn't be the case," replied Ryan subconsciously.     

"Of course this couldn't be the case," said Garcia impassively, "My brother was stupid, but not stupid enough to court his own death. Without someone else's instigation, he couldn't have done this."     

"Did someone set him up?"     

"Let me guess..." Princess Garcia closed her eyes in contemplation, "Maybe someone made a detailed proposal to him, saying that they could help him to take the throne — to bring assassins into the King's City is impossible unless careful arrangements are made, including killing, swapping, and buying off personal. But that has never been what Gerald is good at, or rather, he doesn't care to deal with these trifles. So it's not hard to conclude that the ones who made the arrangements had all his trust, yet betrayed him at the last moment."     

Ryan didn't reply, for all was just speculation. How things happened no longer mattered. It was the result that mattered the most. He believed that Princess Garcia was of the same opinion.     

As expected, Garcia opened her eyes and continued, "There were so many stupid men around my big brother, every one of them a muscular beast. No wonder they were all duped. It was only..." Her voice was then tinged with anger, "Timothy's ways were far too cruel."     

"Are you saying that it was Timothy Wimbledon who did this?"     

"Who knows Gerald better than he does? Who will benefit the most from this state of affairs?" Garcia said, knocking her fingers unconsciously on the table, "A blind man can see that! But he didn't have to do this, for he had been father's favorite."     

Ryan realized that Her Highness was upset. It was unusual for her to put on such an expression. Much as she complained about King Wimbledon III's excessive partiality, she would have never wanted her father to have such an end.     

Ryan could understand her feelings more or less. It was exactly how the younger generation felt towards the elder in a big family — the elders are like a mountain to cross, arousing respect, awe and loathing. If she had been right and Prince Timothy had done all this, then the prince could be called cruel.     

"But... why did he have to do this?"     

"Because he was afraid of me," Garcia took a deep breath and seemed to be gathering herself together, saying "He was afraid of the Blacksail Fleet."     

Seeing that Ryan didn't reply, she continued to explain: "Timothy have informers in the Port of Clearwater. There's nothing strange about that, just like I have arrange informers in Valencia and King's City. When he knew about the existence of Blacksail Fleet, he could easily guess what was my next plan. However, Valencia doesn't have an army that can resist Blacksail Fleet. So he used the most stupid way, making Gerald his stepping stone to get what he wants."     

"Do you mean that he wants an army?"     

"He wants the crown," said Garcia, "When Gerald dies, he will be the first in line of succession. Now that my father had died, he must have been on the way to King's City." "As long as Timothy becomes Wimbledon IV, he can muster the forces of feudatory and army beyond the limit of domains," She continued, shaking her head, "But as I have said, he didn't have to do this as father's favorite son."     

"Isn't this the worst situation?" Ryan said worriedly, "What if Prince Timothy is successfully crowned, declares that Royal Decree on the Selection of Crown Prince has come to an end, and then summons you to King's City?"     

Garcia replied scornfully: "This step of his was much too blunt. My father's partiality doesn't entail the support from most ministers. The murder of the king is no trivial matter — though Timothy has shifted the blame to Gerald, he could only fool the commoners. It would take him a long time before he could seize the power of Kingdom of Graycastle completely. So..." She turned to look at Ryan, "I may have to change my plan a little."     

Ryan at once went down on one knee and said: "I'm all at your service."     

Garcia stood up and walked to the window, her back to Ryan, "He would take on me as soon as he were crowned. But what he could think of could only be ordering Joey Kohl, Duke of the Southern Territory, to exert military pressure on me. Yet the latter would probably take the mourning of the latest king as an excuse to hold back his troops — the old man's too sly to take any risks. The most Joey Kohl would do might be mustering his feudatories and making a show of it next to the border Port of Clearwater." Princess Garcia made a little pause, "But these possible movements might bring unnecessary troubles to us, so we shall sail forth tomorrow."     

"Sail forth? Your Highness, would you want to..."     

"As it lies at the heart of the kingdom, Eagle City has been a city almost without defense. It is possible to arrive at Town of Clear Spring by the tributary of Sanwan River, and from there one can reach Eagle City within a day. After taking over Joe's city, the whole Southern Territory will be in my command. There will be such an interesting time lag: when he sits on the throne and wants to command Joey, he will find that the whole Southern Territory has been seized by m. I'd love to see his face then."     

"But as you have said, King Wimbledon III has just passed away. In this way —"     

"What then? Shall I shed tears first?" Garcia turned, while the setting sun on the sea surface cloaked her with magenta gossamer. Her face was hidden in the dark, yet there was still some flickering light in her eyes. "Her eyes are so firm," Ryan thought, "though there could be anger or pain in them, but there should be no place for sadness."     

Sadness is not for Her Highness.     

"No, you shouldn't," he answered earnestly.     

Garcia nodded satisfactorily, "Go and gather the captains here for me. Now that Timothy wouldn't wait until five years later, I'd certainly not disappoint him. The whole Southern Territory will be declared independent, after I seize the Eagle City."     

"It doesn’t' matter to her if it was done by Timothy," Ryan thought, "she can always find her way in the most turbulent situation and head for her goal once a decision is made. This is where her charm lies and the reason why I've followed her."     

"I'll do as you bid, Your Highness...No," Ryan answered respectfully, "Your Majesty the Queen."