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chapter 26.
Hugo’s Daughter and Gulf’s Daughter
“Adele!”
Why does everyone insist on calling Adeline Adele?
The Lion King frowned as he watched Seisia embrace Adeline tightly, celebrating their reunion.
It was already annoying enough that Vladimir kept calling her Adele while smirking at him, but now even the Lord of Morgon was doing the same, making him feel left out.
“Seisia, why are you so old?”
“Shut up, you wicked princess. You think you’ll never age and stay young forever?”
“You should’ve worked less.”
“Who do you think created all that work in the first place!”
Adeline laughed as she said it, but Seisia snapped back in irritation. Still, even while complaining, she never let go of Adeline’s hand. Kisses on the cheek were nothing unusual, and when they entered the manor, she clung to Adeline’s arm as if she would never let go.
Annoying, the Lion King muttered.
Adeline wasted no time once Seisia returned. After a few words about what had happened on the warship, she selected a new envoy to send to the pirates.
This time, it wasn’t a knight or a soldier. It was a merchant, one Seisia had recommended.
He was a tradesman who had spent his entire life in Morgon dealing in dried fish. From Morgon’s seas to the Saurian archipelago, he handled everything the sea produced.
“What am I supposed to tell the pirates?”
The merchant eyed Adeline warily but gave Seisia a warm smile—clearly, he knew how much the lady of Morgon had done for her people.
Adeline spoke calmly.
“Tell them I want to meet privately.”
“What?”
“Say I want to meet the captain of the Sawtooth Crab. Tell them I’ll board the ship alone—no guards, no escorts. Just me.”
“Are you insane?”
The merchant blurted it out, but Adeline shrugged.
“Why do you think I chose you? The free folk of Saurian dry their fish, and you smuggle it in to sell on land, don’t you? No matter how bloodthirsty those pirates are, if one of their trade partners shows up as the envoy, they’ll respond favorably.”
The merchant’s eyes widened as he glanced at Seisia, as if asking how this princess could possibly know such things. Seisia, with a serious face, asked him just once more to do as told. He had no choice but to nod.
The old captain’s warship, still docked at Morgon, raised its sails again, barely half a day after dropping off Cesare.
Adeline told the Lion King, who came to see her off, simply to trust her and wait. She said the same to Ringo and Navi. Only Morgon’s soldiers, Seisia, and the Emperor’s 13th Knights were allowed on board with her.
Soon after departure, a line of pirate ships appeared on the horizon. The hostages they had once displayed on deck were no longer visible.
“Guess pirates rest at night too?”
Adeline asked casually.
“They’re people, after all,” Seisia replied.
“Lady! The envoy has returned!”
The soldiers tensed as the merchant clambered back aboard from the supply boat. They feared what cruel trick the pirates might have played this time—after all, twice already they had mocked Cesare through the envoy.
“Your Highness.”
But this time, the envoy was fine—clothed, uninjured, and even looking somewhat relaxed. He cleared his throat before giving his short report.
“They said… come anytime.”
“What?”
“They said, if you have the courage, come whenever you want.”
The merchant looked deflated, as though disappointed he hadn’t been given a more dramatic role. But the captain of the Sawtooth Crab had truly said only that. No insults, no humiliations—just a challenge, a test of the princess’s courage.
Adeline asked Seisia, “Would it be rude to visit at night? Do sailors have customs like that?”
“Not that I’ve heard of…”
“Then raise the flag. We’re going now.”
Seisia gawked. Now? What kind of princess was in such a rush?
“Right now?”
“They won’t expect it. That’ll catch them off guard.”
Adeline tied her long hair up in a quick knot and strode forward.
The sailors untied the supply boat once again. At first, the old captain scoffed, refusing to believe the princess herself would go, but when he realized she was serious, his face paled. Soldiers and knights alike shook their heads in protest—especially the 13th Knights.
Captain Felix stepped forward. “Your Highness, if you must board, at least take us with you.”
“Why?”
“Why… because it’s dangerous!”
Adeline strapped on her light armor, chain reinforced with leather, and threw off her cloak.
“Of course it’s dangerous. Who doesn’t know that?” she laughed.
The knights stared at her, baffled. Was she truly so foolish? Didn’t she realize what would happen if she got hurt?
She looked Felix in the eye. “What’s your mission?”
“To assist Your Highness in solving Morgon’s troubles.”
“Assist. Not replace me.”
That was the difference.
The 13th Knights were men without privilege, without wealth—just strong arms and loyalty bought with imperial coin. To Adeline, they were broken, hopeless souls.
So she wanted to show them something.
She stepped aboard the supply boat and said simply:
“The most dangerous tasks are for royalty. That’s why people look up to us.”
She laughed brightly as the boat set out toward the pirate fleet.
The Sawtooth Crab. Named because its captain loved crab dishes. A pirate, yes, but one who fought to protect the free folk of Saurian. Once, long ago, he’d been spared by the late Marquis Gulf of Morgon.
Adeline remembered all this as she boarded.
The pirates jeered when they saw her truly arrive alone. Some whistled, some praised her courage compared to Cesare.
The captain soon appeared. Leaning on the railing, he studied her with a troubled face as the sun set and the sea grew dark.
“Come aboard,” he said at last.
Adeline climbed up without hesitation. The pirates fell silent when her face caught the torchlight—far more beautiful than rumor had said.
“The Emperor would pay handsomely for a face like that,” the captain muttered. No greeting, no handshake—just a contest of stares.
“The princess is reckless. Gulf’s daughter wasn’t like this,” he said.
“You won’t hurt me. Don’t bother trying to intimidate me. If I feared that, I wouldn’t be here.”
He clicked his tongue. Then gestured toward the captain’s cabin.
Adeline entered. The corridor was lit by torches stuck into human skulls. A normal princess might have screamed. Adeline walked calmly.
Inside, waiting by the window, stood an old woman with snow-white hair, spine straight, eyes blazing.
“I thought you’d come sooner,” the woman rasped.
“And you are?” Adeline asked.
“You don’t know? I am Shima Hon, the one your people call leader of the free folk you call pirates.”
“And I,” Adeline replied, “am Adeline Vitaya of Marma, the one you call Hugo’s daughter.”
They sat across from each other, equal despite the gulf of years.
Shima asked why Adeline wanted to meet her.
“Because I can give you what you’ve always wanted.”
Shima scoffed. “We want nothing from you.”
But Adeline pressed on. “Marma’s west was once the land of the free folk. They weren’t lawless—they fled from massacres carried out by those we call founding heroes. Marma’s history is built on their blood.”
Shima’s pipe hit the table with a sharp clack.
“I have proof,” Adeline continued. “Evidence Marma tried to erase for a thousand years.”
Shima extinguished her pipe. Silence fell thick.
Adeline’s voice was calm. “I will announce it. Officially. In my own royal voice. Not just in Marma—the whole continent will know.”
For the free folk, this was a dream a thousand years old.
At last, Shima asked quietly, “And what do you want in return?”
Adeline told her. About her revenge. About her hatred. About what she needed Saurian for.
Shima listened. Sometimes she smiled faintly.
In the end, she nodded. “I understand.”
In that moment, history shifted.
That night, the hostages were released.
Back on Morgon’s warship, Seisia reminisced about her father, Marquis Gulf, the man who had once believed in coexistence with the free folk—and died for it.
Adeline, returning from the pirates, passed on the words Seisia had never been able to say: Thank you for not letting Father’s death be in vain.
The Sawtooth Crab’s captain said nothing.
Adeline left without farewell. She had given them what they wanted, and they had given her what she needed.
The captain watched her go, struck by her charisma.
“She resembles you,” he told Shima.
“Not in beauty,” Shima laughed, snatching his hat. “In spirit. She’s interesting.”
“Do you really trust her?”
“I don’t trust her. I trust the life she’s lived.”
That night, the hostages smiled as they were returned, grateful to the knights who fetched them—though the knights knew it had been Adeline’s doing.
Meanwhile, on Morgon’s beach, the Lion King ran barefoot through the sand, chased by a furious, panting Vladimir, who cursed his name.
The fishermen stared. The women stared. The red sunset glowed across the shore.
The Lion King just smirked and kept running.
