CHAPTER 46: [46] WELCOME TO MY ORELLIA

The dinghy scraped against worn wooden planks as Raven tied it off at the harbor. Her fingers moved through the familiar motions of securing the boat while her cat-like eyes swept the docks. From the Crimson Sparrow, Orellia had looked like any other backwater settlement. Up close, the differences hit her like cold water.

No chaos. No drunken pirates stumbling between buildings or threatening merchants in broad daylight. Instead, men in green bandanas moved with purpose, carrying supplies, checking manifests, directing traffic with the efficiency of a military operation. The amber dust that coated everything glinted in the morning sun, but beneath that golden sheen lay something far more organized than she’d expected.

This isn’t a pirate occupation. It’s an administration.

Raven adjusted her hat, making sure her distinctive hair remained hidden, and stepped onto the dock. A young man with a clipboard approached immediately.

"Name and business?" he asked, his tone polite but firm.

"Lily," she said, using her old alias. "Here to see Captain Moreau about amber jewelry."

He made a note. "Weapons?"

Raven lifted her hands, showing empty palms. The dagger strapped to her thigh remained invisible beneath her coat. "Just a woman looking to make an honest trade."

"Follow the main road to the square. Captain’s holding court today." He gestured toward a wide street that led up from the harbor. "Stay on the path. Don’t wander."

Her boots crunched on amber dust as she walked. A pair of Black Serpent pirates passed, their green bandanas stark against the golden light. They weren’t swaggering; they nodded to a shopkeeper, and one even shifted a heavy basket for an elderly woman.

Fear wrapped in politeness. The most dangerous kind.

The town square opened before her like a theater stage. Where Hotaru Town’s square had been dominated by Hardy’s monument, this space pulsed with living authority. The Golden Lighthouse towered over everything, its amber panels catching the light, but a massive black and green flag now hung from its peak. The serpent emblem coiled across the fabric, visible from anywhere in the square.

But the real center of power sat on the steps of what had once been the Merchant Assembly hall. A throne—carved from dark wood and inlaid with amber—commanded the space. And on that throne sat Captain Lydia "Vox" Moreau.

Jesus.

Moreau’s beauty was a weapon in itself, so sharp and otherworldly it seemed to hum in the air. Her golden eyes caught the light like polished coins, while her jet-black hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders. She wore a fitted black coat with golden serpent embroidery that emphasized her tall frame.

The scaled left arm rested casually on the throne’s armrest, the black scales with their golden edges gleaming like expensive jewelry. Rather than hiding the transformation, Moreau displayed it as a mark of power.

Two guards flanked the throne. The first, a massive man with twin sabers at his waist, stood silent as a statue. His scarred face remained expressionless, but his eyes tracked every movement in the square. The second was an elderly man in a doctor’s coat.

A line of people waited to approach the throne—merchants, miners, even a few pirates seeking orders. Moreau handled each with the same disarming smile, listening to requests, resolving disputes, issuing commands with theatrical flair.

"Next," she called, her voice carrying easily across the square.

A Black Serpent pirate approached and whispered something in her ear. Moreau’s golden gaze shifted, scanning the crowd until it found Raven. The smile that spread across her lips was warm, welcoming, and absolutely terrifying.

"Well, well," Moreau said, rising from her throne. "The famous Dawn Sea thief graces my humble little enterprise." She gestured for Raven to approach.

"Welcome to my Orellia."

Every eye in the square turned to watch as Raven walked forward. Too many witnesses. Too many guards. No easy escape routes.

"Captain Moreau," she said, stopping at the base of the steps. "I hear you’re interested in some navigation charts."

"Among other things." Moreau gestured to a chair that had been placed beside her throne. "Please, sit. Wine?"

Without waiting for an answer, Moreau nodded to one of her crew. A goblet appeared in Raven’s hands—real silver, filled with wine that smelled expensive.

"Six million Cori for the Elysian Sea charts," Moreau said, her voice carrying to the crowd. "A fair price for quality merchandise."

But when she leaned closer, her words dropped to a murmur meant only for Raven’s ears.

"I must admit, I was curious about your captain. He has an eye for fine ships..." Her golden gaze flicked toward the harbor where the Crimson Sparrow floated at anchor. "And finer crew. A shame he didn’t accept my invitation to join us."

What invitation?

Raven kept her expression carefully neutral while her mind churned. Pierre hadn’t mentioned any contact with Moreau. Which meant either he was keeping secrets or—

Or they’d already made contact.

"My captain is... particular about his alliances," Raven said carefully.

"How refreshingly honest. I do appreciate directness in business partners."

A commotion near the edge of the square interrupted their conversation. A local merchant—middle-aged, well-dressed, probably one of the amber traders—was arguing loudly with a Black Serpent pirate over a crate of golden stones.

"This is highway robbery!" the merchant shouted. "Twenty percent tax on amber exports? That’s theft!"

The pirate’s response was calm, professional. "Captain’s orders. All amber shipments require proper documentation and taxation."

"I’ve been trading here for fifteen years! I know every family on this island!" The merchant’s face flushed red. "You pirates have no right—"

Moreau’s smile never wavered. She simply lifted one finger, a casual gesture that might have been brushing away a fly.

The giant beside the throne moved. He didn’t run; he simply crossed the distance in a handful of silent, impossibly swift strides that ate up the cobblestones. The merchant’s protests cut off as Saxe grabbed his arm.

The crack of breaking bone echoed across the square.

The merchant’s scream lasted exactly two seconds before Saxe’s other hand covered his mouth. Two more pirates appeared immediately, lifting the injured man and carrying him away toward what looked like a medical building.

"Order must be maintained," Moreau said to Raven, taking a delicate sip of wine. Her golden eyes showed no more emotion than if she’d commented on the weather. "As a fellow woman of ambition, I’m sure you understand."

Raven forced herself to nod, her throat suddenly dry despite the wine. Hardy would have screamed, a wild beast marking territory. This was quiet. This was business. And it was infinitely colder.

"Now then," Moreau continued, as if nothing had happened. "About our business arrangement."