Chapter 3
“Justice Will Prevail”
“Ugh…”
Astrid slowly opened her eyes.
Her vision was blurry. Beneath her, she felt the cold, damp stone floor. Her wrists were bound.
She pushed herself up with her tied hands. Pain flared in her head, sending a wave of dizziness crashing over her, like candies rattling inside a child’s paper bag.
She buried her face between her knees, waiting for the vertigo to pass.
After a few minutes, the headache dulled to something bearable. Carefully, slowly, she raised her head to survey her surroundings.
Three walls of stone. The one facing the hallway was barred. A textbook prison cell.
Her last memory was of a musket stock crashing down on her—so this must be a navy prison.
“Unbelievable…”
Astrid patted herself down with bound hands.
Her whistle was gone. So was the dagger she’d held to the end. Everything had been confiscated.
A sudden spike of anxiety made her grope her chest.
Gone. Her father’s amethyst necklace was gone.
Her father had always been a lucky man—falling over only to find treasure, catching wind at just the right moment to escape monster-filled waters.
The necklace had been a gift from him before they parted ways.
Something given by a man like that was a lucky charm in its own right. Losing it now felt like a death sentence.
Her stomach twisted—whether from anxiety or land sickness, she couldn’t say.
Probably both.
Astrid curled up as small as she could, pressing herself into the corner of the cell. Her whole body trembled violently.
But she couldn’t cry.
Whether it was the nausea or the shaking—she just wanted one of them to stop.
She breathed in. Out. Harshly, like a child trying not to cry.
Voices. Somewhere nearby.
Even while on the verge of vomiting, her ears caught the conversation. Likely the guards posted outside her cell—or the next one.
“They’ve got balls, I’ll give ’em that. Pirating right by Rosada Port?”
“Must’ve known no patrols were going out lately.”
“Yeah, but if we weren’t out patrolling, how’d they know a merchant ship was being hit?”
Patrols… That struck a chord.
Luz Rosada was a naval base city. Ever since the base was built, pirate activity near the port had dropped dramatically. The base itself was a deterrent—and, yes, they had cracked down hard.
No one dared raid that area anymore, and with peace restored, the navy had relaxed their routine patrols.
That’s what Astrid’s crew had banked on.
“It was the Ortez Company ship. They were supposed to deliver to the base and the imperial palace. When it was late, we figured something was wrong and went out.”
“Talk about lucky timing.”
So much for the big catch…
They weren’t the ones who’d caught a whale. They’d been baited.
And Astrid? She wasn’t even a decent fish. Just a guppy. She hadn’t known Ortez supplied the imperial family.
She sighed quietly.
“So why’s she in the holding cells? I thought pirates were executed on the spot.”
“The redhead?”
They were talking about her now. Astrid kept listening, hoping for something useful.
“What’s her name again? Anyway, the lieutenant—the one who’s the former admiral’s second kid—he said her being a woman complicated things.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Said if she was a civilian forced to help pirates under duress, it’d be a bad look.”
“But she took a hostage. The crew saw it.”
“Yeah, exactly. So now she’s in the cell. Execution’s tomorrow.”
Nothing useful.
Astrid sighed again, almost inaudibly. She needed to think.
First: That officer—he was the type who’d hesitate just because the suspect was a woman. A relic of the past. Or maybe just a womanizer.
Second: He was partially right. She hadn’t been with the pirates long—just a few days.
She had no money and no way off the sea. Who else but a pirate ship would take in a penniless woman and offer food and work?
They weren’t loyal comrades—just distant acquaintances.
Third: Astrid would die tomorrow.
“I’m going to die tomorrow…”
As she’d focused on the conversation, she’d briefly forgotten the nausea. Now it surged back with a vengeance. The headache returned, muddying her thoughts.
Then again, who thinks clearly when they’re about to die?
Her body trembled, her stomach roiled, and her head felt like it would burst.
She was going to die tomorrow.
If only she still had her father’s necklace.
Maybe holding it while she prayed would ease her fear.
But hypotheticals were useless.
She was going to die.
How much time passed? She didn’t know. After realizing her death was near, her sense of time dissolved.
The guards gave her no food or water. Not that she could have stomached it anyway.
The iron door creaked open with a weighty groan.
Astrid, limp and slumped against the wall, barely moved.
“Time’s up. Drag her out.”
Two soldiers hauled her to her feet and pulled her from the cell. She shuffled forward only when she had to.
Outside, it was midday. A blistering April sun, heralding summer.
The prison sat on a dry plain—no trees for shade, just high walls around a barren structure.
The guards marched her down a wide road beside the river.
The sun scorched her scalp, and sharp stones bit into her bare feet.
She longed to jump in the river and wash off all the salt and sweat clinging to her skin.
But then she remembered she was about to die. So what did it matter?
Faced with death, all other sensations lost their meaning.
After ten minutes of walking, they reached the meeting point of river and sea.
Astrid knew instinctively.
This was the border of freshwater and saltwater.
The symbolic start of naval territory—and the site of countless pirate executions.
Even if her instincts hadn’t told her, the gallows standing stark on the barren land made it obvious.
A guard shoved her in the back.
She stumbled forward instinctively, catching her balance.
And laughed. A small, bitter laugh.
“I’m about to die, and I still don’t want to fall…”
Another shove pushed her toward the steps.
Trembling, gasping like someone about to suffocate, she climbed.
She couldn’t even get onto the stool by herself. Her legs gave out.
The guards lifted her by the arms and placed her on it.
Aside from the wind and the crows occasionally crying overhead, everything was silent.
If someone would just sing…
The noose settled around her neck.
Was her story ending before it even began?
Astrid closed her eyes.
Someone stepped onto the platform behind her. The executioner, no doubt.
Waves crashed. She’d expected that to be the final sound of her life—but not like this, not so soon.
The executioner shifted. Likely crouching to kick the stool away.
And then—
Hoofbeats.
…Hoofbeats?
There was no reason to hear that sound.
But it didn’t matter. Not to someone about to die.
“Stop! Halt the execution at once!”
Correction. It very much mattered to her.
Astrid’s eyes flew open.
The hoofbeats pounded closer. A banner flapped in the wind—ornate and unmistakable.
The rider shouted again.
“Stop this execution! By order of His Majesty the Emperor!”
