The Rimebreak Navy. My Navy.

  They were here and Lucy was the first to leap ashore.

  The ramp hadn’t even settled when her boots hit the planks, the impact rattling the boards. She flung her arms wide, floppy hat slipping sideways on her head, and bellowed… except it wasn’t just bellowing. Her voice boomed across the port, magically amplified until it rolled over rooftops and bounced off every wooden beam in earshot.

  “Arrr, lads… an’ lasses!” she roared, drawing every head in the harbor. “Now that we’ve plundered a fine haul, let’s drop anchor here at Altandai! The city with no spendin’ laws, har har har!” She thrust one fist skyward, hat nearly flying off in the process. “Scatter yerselves, ye scurvy imps, an’ revel in yer spoils!”

  The village practically vibrated.

  Players erupted into motion. Gangplanks slammed down from every ship, ropes tossed, barrels rolled. Cheers, whistles, and wild laughter carried on the wind. Figures vaulted over rails with reckless abandon, some landing gracefully, others hitting the planks with graceless thuds but laughing all the same. Within moments, the quiet murmur of the port had transformed into chaos: boots pounding, coins jingling as if wealth itself had grown legs and jumped down with them.

  I stood in the middle of it all, a tide of Rimebreak energy washing over me, and shook my head. Only Lucy could make a fleet arrival feel like a drunken festival.

  Finding Lola in the churn took effort, but she was where I should have expected her: at Lucy’s side. She didn’t look happy about it. Lola had her arms crossed tight, her expression that particular shade of professional disapproval that said I will murder you later, but only after we finish the agenda.

  Lucy, by contrast, looked like she’d been born for the stage. Her hat sat crooked, her grin wild and unapologetic, and she was already soaking in the stares from half the village like applause.

  “You had to, Lucy, didn’t you?” I muttered as I walked up to them.

  Lucy’s grin only widened. Without a word, she flipped something at me. I caught it instinctively.

  A ring.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t it have a level restriction last time?”

  Lucy sauntered up, the very picture of smug, and plucked the ring right out of my hand before I could get another look. “Says level ten.”

  I blinked. “It doesn’t for me.”

  She just winked, tucking the ring into her palm like it belonged there. “Guess it likes you better.”

  Her voice was still ringing in my ears, echoing across the port as if the wood itself remembered her shout. Around us, the fleet poured onto the docks in a rush of laughter and boots.

  “Lady,” Lola said flatly, clipboard tucked under her arm like it was a holy relic. Her eyes swept me once, twice, then narrowed into that exact look she reserved for mistakes in my paperwork. “What are you wearing?”

  I blinked, glanced down at myself, and… okay, fair question.

  Plain dark-blue shirt, tucked neatly into black trousers. The boots were scuffed, but broken in just right. And over it all: my pride and joy. A long coat the color of midnight... very dirty. I gave the lapel a tug, imagining for just a second I looked mysterious. Dangerous. The kind of person who could walk away from explosions in slow motion.

  In reality, I probably looked like someone’s little sister had raided a costume shop clearance bin.

  My mind flicked back to my “free week,”. I’d actually gone shopping, like a normal player. Spent half a day browsing racks of fabric and leather, trying on things that didn’t scream “villainess with a target on her back.” When I’d finally picked these plain blue clothes, I’d fed them to my outfit so it could “eat” the design. Now I could wear it whenever I wanted.

  Best items ever.

  I’d even splurged on the coat, imagining myself sweeping through rooms like a shadow queen. My personal rating? Very mysterious. Lola’s rating, judging from her unimpressed stare? Somewhere between “laundry day” and “don’t quit your day job.”

  “Anyway,” Lola said, voice brisk as she clutched the clipboard tighter. She didn’t even give me a chance to defend my fashion choices. “All plans are set in motion. Can we…” Her gaze flicked up to meet mine, and for a moment, the hard edge slipped. “Can I…” She hugged the clipboard to her chest. “Can I officially take the position?”

  I grinned, couldn’t help it. “Kneel.”

  Lola froze, halfway between offended and confused. “What?”

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  “Kneel,” I repeated.

  To her credit, she didn’t argue further. She dropped to one knee on the dock, head bowed, clipboard clutched like a knight’s sword. Around us, the bustle of the harbor slowed. A handful of players stopped mid-step, eyes wide, clearly thinking this was some kind of cutscene event.

  “Lola,” I said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “you are the most important person in the kingdom.” I paused, then added with a smirk, “Except me, of course.”

  Lucy snorted beside me, covering her mouth far too late. The bystanders looked over each other, looking for the best spot.

  “So that means…” I lifted a hand like I was bestowing cosmic power. “I name you Seneschal.”

  The air shivered. A ripple of blue mist burst outward from us in a concentric wave, passing through ships, sails, water, even the gawking crowd. Players gasped.

  Lola’s eyes went huge. She flicked from some unseen screen back to me. “Lady? Did you… whaaat?”

  I wasn’t about to let her spiral. I grabbed her arm and hauled her back up onto her feet. “I believe you have a broken Kingdom menu to study,” I said, all business. “And at least three new systems to figure out. Quests, titles, the works. Hop to it.”

  Her dazed expression tightened into focus again. “I’ll do it right now!” And then, clipboard hugged close, she ran, literally ran, back toward the capital ship, skirts swishing, determination in every step.

  Lucy and I watched her vanish.

  “So, I guess that makes you my admiral?” I asked dryly.

  Lucy tossed her hat back, eyes gleaming. “Aye, it does.” And right on cue, another magic wave washed over us, a warm rush of Cloudy recognition. She let out a wild giggle. “Damn, John… you only say a word and Rimelion reacts. I’m now official Admiral, hahaha!”

  I placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying her buzz. “I know it’s overwhelming, Lucy. But I’d appreciate it if you called me Charlie. Please.”

  Her eyes dropped to my hand first, then lifted to mine. They widened, softening with a flash of sincerity that almost startled me. “Ou’tch. This pirate queen be sorry. I’ll be rememberin’ till the world’s end ye be a Charlie, yarrr!”

  I rolled my eyes, shaking my head, but couldn’t smother the smile tugging at my lips. Turning away, I let my gaze sweep the horizon.

  Forty ships.

  Forty.

  The fleet stretched across the lake like a floating wall of sails and banners, more than I remembered from the holo-vid they showed me. Players bustled across the decks, ropes flying, flags snapping in the wind. The navy blue banners rippled proudly… snowflake sigil, seven stars circling, crown gleaming at the top.

  “Lucy…” I murmured. “Didn’t we have a lot less?”

  Her grin widened, the glint in her eyes dangerously mischievous. “Spied some stray sea-dogs ridin’ the waves, I did,” Lucy crowed, puffing her chest as if she’d single-handedly invented sailing.

  She hooked her thumbs into her belt, hat sliding precariously down over one eye. “So, as a fine admiral o’ the royal navy, hehe, we went an’ liberated them ships from the scurvy scoundrels… and now we’ve a proper fleet, yarrr yarrr!”

  I blinked at her, deadpan. “Do you have to talk like that?”

  Her laughter rang across the deck. She shook her head, curls bouncing under the brim of her ridiculous hat. “I love it, and my crew love it. We cosplay as pirates! Well… sometimes.” She leaned casually on the railing, her grin crooked but genuine. “But to answer you properly… Llama wanted more of us hitting level twenty-five and getting class upgrades. Especially Lunaris. So we sailed up and down the shore, hunted monsters, poked around dungeons, freed a couple of unlucky players. You know. Adventure.” She shrugged and then pointed with her chin at the water.

  I followed her gaze. A cluster of players splashed around near the hull, swimming in the bright lake water like carefree kids on summer break. Their laughter drifted upward, mingling with the creak of rigging and the rhythmic slap of waves against wood.

  Sometimes I forget people play Rimelion for fun and don’t treat it as a real world.

  “It worked, I think,” Lucy continued. “But Luna’s still only level twenty. You said she’s got an important job?”

  I massaged my face, inhaling the sharp tang of tar and lake spray. “Yes, Lucy. She has an important job. Which is why—” I let my eyes drift back over the horizon where our fleet spread like a wall of sails, “—this little detour of yours makes you a day late. I sent word to the city. Well, technically Shad did. They’re expecting us yesterday. Or today. So… close call. But fine. I guess.”

  She gave a single nod, not in the least bit guilty. Typical Lucy.

  Before I could say more, I felt a squeeze from behind… warm, enthusiastic, and very much uninvited.

  “Queen!” Yuki’s voice chirped in my ear. I turned, finding her arms wrapped around me, her eyes practically sparkling with galaxies. “Can I be the fox girl?”

  I arched a brow. “Yuki, it’s fox transformation, not being—”

  She cut me off with a fist pumped skyward, nearly knocking my tiara askew. “Let’s go!”

  Lucy chuckled into her hand, watching with open amusement as Yuki bounced on her toes beside me. “Maybe we should enter the city first?” Lucy suggested lightly. “Pretty sure we’ll be confronted at the gate.”

  Yuki deflated, shoulders slumping, but she let go of me with a dramatic sigh. “Yeah…”

  So we went.

  The walk from the docks to the walls was slow, and I put on my dramatic princess clothes.

  Our boots struck the planks of the wharf, each step echoing against the warehouses that lined the water. Fishermen paused mid-knot to stare. Merchants leaned out from shaded doorways. Children scurried between skirts and trousers, whispering. Word of the fleet’s arrival had spread fast, and the atmosphere was thick with curiosity and unease.

  The city’s lakeside gate rose ahead, a slab of rosy stone fitted with ironwood beams.

  Unlike the casual open arch I’d seen previously, now it was sealed tight, its heavy doors barred. Guards lined the battlements, their armor catching the sun in sharp gleams, crossbows resting across their shoulders. At ground level, a knot of soldiers stood firm, their formation stiff, eyes wary.

  With a thought, I put the tiara on my head and set it onto my hair just right. The weight settled like a reminder. Not just Charlie, the player. Not just Charlie, the accidental slave.

  But Queen Charlie.

  The murmurs in the crowd swelled as we approached the gate. Lucy fell into step on my right, still grinning but oddly subdued. Yuki trailed close on my left, every so often fidgeting with the hilt of her blade as if itching to prove herself.

  I mentioned to her there was a chance to get a some kind of fox bloodline and there was history attached to it she would need to study and she was pestering me about it ever since. The air near the gate smelled of iron, and dust swirled lazily around the boots of the guards as they shifted in place.

  I stopped in front of the one female guard who looked the most official… breastplate polished to a mirror shine, a scar etched diagonally across her cheek. She stood in the center of the formation, chin high, spear planted in the dirt.

  I lifted my chin, meeting her eyes without flinching. “Hello,” I said, voice clear. “My name is Queen Charlie. And I am here with my fleet… to trade.”

  She lifted a hand, and her voice carried over the crowd. “Queen Charlie. By decree of Altandai, your people are welcome within the walls. But hear this: you bear responsibility for them.” Her gaze swept the mass of players behind me, then settled back on my face. “Any transgression committed by those under your banner must be compensated before you depart. Either in gold… or in the slave life of the offender.”

  Some players laughed it off nervously; others tightened their grips on weapons, but all of them listened.

  Then the commander’s expression shifted, formality folding into ritual. She planted her spear into the ground with a solid thud. “In the name of the city—Altandai—I welcome you, Queen Charlie.”

  The gates groaned, ironwood and stone shifting, and slowly, the city opened before us.