Chapter Text
"And for the last time, there be no competition over which ship be the best! We all be on the same team, working towards the same goal! Blast and damn, is this what the tournament was like?"
Admiral Magenta storms back into his cabin and sinks into his armchair. They had barely left the dock when the infighting began. Tengu, Goldriver, Plumette, all sent furiously back and forth between the ships with written declarations of superiority. At one point Dyna Knight launched himself out of a cannon to land on the Golden Delicious, only to get immediately strung up by Boobytrap Knight and hung by his ankles from the mast. It had nearly devolved into all out war before Admiral Magenta ordered all the ships to dock at a nearby island and chewed them out.
Now he was staying aboard the Gala- the most troublesome of the three ships. Conquest had taken an immediate liking to the vessel (which Magenta swears made the Orca twitch), and between all the hot-heads and egoists the rivalry had quickly spiraled out of control.
At least they appear to have calmed down now. Admiral Magenta turns his attention back to the book he had brought with him, hoping to take his mind off the chaos of the day. A Collection of Classic Fairie Tales. Not normally the type of reading Magenta preferred to sink his teeth into, but Pridemoor's scholars assured him that this was the oldest surviving literature to reference the Archipelago of Eateries. Picking it up by its cracked, leather spine and flipping through the yellowed pages to his bookmark, Admiral Magenta rereads the story.
Long ago, there was a chain of beautiful islands called the Archipelago of Eateries. On the grandest of these islands live a great many good kings. Their people were prosperous and happy, dancing long into the night, and they enjoyed a lasting peace between their nations. Little did they know, one of their number was secretly very wicked.
The wicked king set out to forge a crown of great power, that would give him dominion over the other kings. He commanded all his subjects to work day and night tirelessly in the forge, crafting this crown, but with no one to tend the fields the kingdom's food reserves grew low. The people begged to be allowed to go out and gather food, but the wicked king did not care. Whenever someone complained he would gobble them up, growing fat and large as his people starved to death.
Day after day this continued, until at long last his nation lay barren, completely empty except for himself. But it was no matter to him, because he had completed his crown.
When he at long last retired from his workshop, he found that the good kings had raised armies to stop him. He laughed, for he knew that his crown would protect him from all harm, and so it was. The wicked king used his power to destroy all who opposed him.
In desperation, the good kings turned to their last resort. Each chose a champion to combat the wicked king, and together they fought valiantly. Despite their bravery, their blows were simply turned away and it took all their skill not to be crushed by his power, but slowly they advanced towards the wicked king's forge. Chasing them inside, the wicked king laughed at their futile attempts to defeat him. The champions merely looked at one another with sad determination in their eyes, knowing what was to become of them. From outside the forge, the good kings closed the workshop doors, magically sealing the wicked king and the champions alike inside.
Still, the good kings knew that even as they were good kings, there would come a time when their successors were not. Eventually there would come a time when one, overcome by greed, would seek to unseal the forge and claim the crown for himself. Reluctantly, the good kings agreed to leave their island paradise.
They set to work creating great sea-faring ships, and set a curse upon the island. It would always be guarded by a terrible storm, that no living creature could ever return. Their task done, they gathered their remaining peoples and traveled far across the oceans, settling in lands unknown to them, and there their successors rule to this very day.
Admiral Magenta sighs. He didn't know what he had expected to find- perhaps some small detail he had missed previously? But it remained a children's tale, and Magenta remained frustrated. An ancient race of kings living to this very day? Even at the time the book was written Pridemoor's scholars had been unable to find a lineage that persisted that long, and certainly no modern kingdoms boasted histories that great. Yet if Charter Knight were searching for the isles, surely he would be after the crown.
If Charter Knight were searching for the isles. The thought burned in the back of Magenta's mind. Either Charter Knight knew something they did not, or this whole thing was a trap. And what a trap. Landurr's most willing defenders, shoved onto boats and searching fruitlessly for a non-existent passage discovered by some make-believe pirate. Charter Knight could hide inland, and spring his true plan while everyone was away. They would arrive back too late to stop him.
If they arrived back at all. No living creature had ever returned from the Broiling Sea- unless you believed the tales of Captain Crumbbeard- and yet Pridemoor had insisted they set sail for it rather than let the Charter Knight issue take care of itself. Perhaps they were being lured to their destruction. Who was to say King Pridemoor was even himself? Magenta had heard tales of a mimicking knight, one who could take the form of any they saw. Perhaps Charter Knight had built a relationship with the mimic? It was difficult to put the pieces together.
And the liquid samurai. Riptide. Here, on the ships, walking freely. Sure, he claimed that he no longer worked for Charter Knight, had always been opposed to him in fact. But wouldn't Charter Knight just love to have an agent on the inside? Even if the information Riptide had volunteered had been independently verified, it didn't mean he wasn't still plotting to lead them into an ambush.
"Why are you even here, old boy?" Magenta murmurs to himself. "A leader who doesn't believe in the mission- is that what this team needs? Why couldn't you have just declined that fish's offer?"
It was rhetorical, of course. Admiral Magenta knew why he was here. Reaching into his hat, he pulls out a silver locket. Gingerly, with magenta-stained gauntlets, he opens it to reveal two small oil paintings: one of his wife, and one of his two children. With the additional income from being promoted to admiral, he could afford to give them all a better life. A house with a garden for his wife. Tuition for wizzem college for his daughter. Armor and swordsmanship lessons for his son.
"Soon my loves. As soon as we disprove this silly Archipelago theory I'll be back with you. You'll hardly even realize I was gone, when I-"
A loud knock at the door interrupts his train of thought. "Pardon me, Captain." Bright Knight's voice.
Quickly shutting the locket and returning it to his hat's inner pocket, Admiral Magenta grimaces and steels himself to do the voice. "Yarr, that be Admiral to ye, matey. What do it be?"
The door creaks open and Bright Knight strides inside. "My apologies, Admiral. I thought it appropriate to make you aware that the crew is pounding nails into the walls of ship."
"What? Where? Why"
Bright Knight shrugs. "Everywhere, from what I've seen. I believe they mentioned something about making this vessel uninhabitable for whichever team inhabits it next."
Magenta buries his face in his hands. "Aye. Of course. Alright, let those scallywags know I'm coming and that someone will be swabbing the deck tonight."