‘This isn’t good. Not good at all.’, the captain stated the obvious.

  ‘Well, that’s obvious. We need to steer clear of those fanatics and their blessed silver and cold iron weapon… and especially their Lugh forsaken attitude against everything that is not to their liking.’, Ron grunted as he nervously watched the quay for any movement of the order’s knights.

  ‘But what do we do? If we just follow our plan to drop off the crew and sail off with just 6 people they will know and deem it more than suspicious.’, Sean Mac Lir asked the central question of this debate. A debate that had already lasted a few hours, ever since they had anchored. Most of the crew was already in Bellhaste probably drinking and visiting the flourishing reds light district. The rest besides the skeleton crew would follow soon. Right now, one could write it off as normal behaviour of sailors in a harbour town, even if all of them had taken their belongings with them. The sailors themselves were not in danger… if they didn’t do something dump in front of the knights.

  ‘Yes, but staying here will heighten the chance one of the sailors does something dump and tries to safe his sorry ass by selling us.’, Ron repeated the argument he had already voiced several times. The debate was caught in a never-ending circle.

  Ian sighed, laying his head back counting the planks that made up the ceiling of the captain’s cabin. If he had his way, he would have at least gone into town to look around for a bit. But due to his state as his had called it he was forbidden from even leaving the cabin. And by now sitting here for hours hearing the ever-same arguments he was bored out of his mind.

  Just when he was about to close his eyes and try to sleep a little to shorten the wait a knock at the door put an end to the discussion.

  ‘Yes?’, the captain asked.

  ‘Captain. The knights of the holy cross are on the quay wishing to speak to you.’, Tom who had entered said in a worried tone.

  ‘Do they seem upset?’, Ron asked cautiously.

  ‘I don’t think so, but I am no expert in reading zealots.’, the old man answered solemnly and added in a near whisper ‘would be no good for me either to have too much to do with those folks.’

  ‘I know. But letting them wait would be worse. Let their leader and at most two of his men abord. Better to meet them on my ship than on their land.’, Sean ordered, suddenly channelling his princely aura. ‘Doesn’t seem like we can hide. That means we must remind them of the accords their order has with my father. Ian, you stay back. Do not talk unless I personally ask you to. Stand behind my left shoulder. Ron, you take my right.’, his uncle ordered whilst Tom had already left the room to invite the uninvited in.

  ‘Do we offer bread and wine?’, Ron asked in a businesslike tone. Ian knew that thee sharing of bread and drink was a symbolic non-aggression contract. Binding to all in the Sidhe, weaker on a vessel that belonged to the Sidhe and almost not existent on the turf of the mortal realm.

  ‘We will see, if they are worth of our hospitability. If they are really here to talk, we just might, but there is no sense in invoke old magic on those who are carrying cold iron and blessed silver. They oftentimes lack the necessary honour.’, the prince of the Sidhe, who had now a regal air around him decreed.

  Another knock at the wooden door Tom’s voice sounded ‘Your guests, my Lord. Head knight Sir Lorenz accompanied by knights Sir Ralf and Sir Marek.’

  After waiting for a few seconds Sean Mac Lir said: ‘Enter.’

  Three knights entered through the door the old sailor held open before he bowed out.

  They positioned themselves before the heavy wooden desk, behind which Sean Mac Lir was seated.

  Ron and Ian stood as he had directed behind him. Hands folded behind their backs, faces expressionless.

  After a while in which no one said a word the new comer in the middle, Sir Lorenz, Ian guessed, cleared his throat and said ‘We greet you Prince Sean Mac Lir, son of the great Mannan Mac Lir. We are coming in peace. Don’t we share a pact? Aren’t we allies? Though it seems our reception is not as cordial as I might have hoped. No bread and wine? Where is the famous hospitality of the Sidhe.’ Ian could see how Ron tensed upon hearing the insulting and callous demand, but Sean remained still.

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  He measured the knights before him with a calculating gaze before answering, his tone as cold as ice. ‘I greet you, Sir Lorenz of the holy cross. The reception you are receiving mirrors the treatment of our folk when it crosses your turf. Cold at best fiery at worst. Your own demeanour doesn’t speak well of your own education towards those of royal blood. I wonder what your human princes would do if addressed in such a… fraudulent manner…’, his ocean blue eyes now dark with the storm of his displeasure. Then he added with a sardonic smile ‘Or do you think it is good manners to come without being called to me and demand ludicrous things, whilst wearing cold iron weapons thinly hidden beneath your clothes, not to mention your blessed silver blade worn openly on your hip?’

  ‘It is well in my rights to come to any meeting with my usual weaponry, which is a privilege of my standing. Don’t you think it fair for me and my men to bring weapons, when in fact you are weapons?’ the red-haired knight answered mockingly seemingly thinking to have the upper hand. Ian didn’t like the direction this conversation was heading. Towards a confrontation they had wanted to avoid.

  He sighed inwardly. The churches knights were famous for their narrowminded sadistic and arrogant ways. That combined with the famous pride of the Sidhe he himself could feel was not a good combination. Only his raising as a part of the human society held it back. But he knew Ron was seething.

  Sean on the other hand plotted a plan to make them pay for the insult. The captain knew he couldn’t act openly because the three ships of the order were able to completely block the harbour, rendering it impossible to get out. And he knew this hostile behaviour was aimed for him to break the treaty. To create an opening in the carefully worded accords the church clearly wanted to get rid of. Oblivious to the fact their fleet only remained intact as long as Mannan willed.

  ‘I advise you not to go down that road any further. That’s an advice. But if you fail to do so it’s on you. Your order has grown arrogant. But remember Sidhe are not as easily cowed as humans. So say your part and be on your way before you overstay your welcome even further. Because you are right, we are weapons.’, the prince of the Sidhe stated.

  ‘We are here because we believe you have kidnapped a boy. 13 summers old. The lord of the fief he was stolen of claims him to be a seventh son of a seventh son an asset which is rare and well protected nowadays. An asset that does not belong to the family it was born, or even more ridiculous to himself, in but to the lord and the church. The boy is to be handed over at birth… and educated to be a knight of our order. Failure to oblige is to be heavily punished. The boy’s family was punished and we could trace his way to the nearest harbour. Where we were told a boy of his description had boarded your ship. So, hand him over, or you yourself are breaking the accords.’, the knight threatened looking at Ian as if he knew it was him, he was searching for.

  ‘I have not hidden a boy that fits your description. The only boy that has recently boarded the Feodora stands right behind me. My nephew, Ian Mac Lir, who is surely no matter of your concern. For those of the blood of the Sidhe are always to be regarded as Sidhe no matter the human parentage they might have.’, Sean answered whilst studying his nails as if not perturbed at all.

  ‘Sidhe blood he may be but we are entitled to every seventh son of a seventh son born to human parents. And we will get what is ours.’, the knight growled his gaze studying Ian, before he added ‘Better pack up, boy. We will depart as soon as possible.’ Then with a court nod towards Sean he said ‘Prepare yourself, Sidhe. We will get what is ours.’, and left the ship with his man. Showing open hostility.

  After hearing the steps of the three knights fade Sean turned to Ian and asked ‘So, you are the seventh son of a seventh son?’

  ‘Uhm, yes, but I didn’t know it mattered besides seeing ghosts and so on… I didn’t know there was a law that condemns me to slavery in that order.’, Ian answered with a shrug.

  ‘You didn’t seem fazed that your human family was punished?’, Ron asked with a raised brow.

  ‘My brothers wanted to burn me on a stick… I had to flee after overhearing their plans. Witchcraft they said. And that I was a monster. I have no love for any of them since my father died. I couldn’t even attend his funeral.’, Ian answered with another shrug, his face impassive.

  ‘Understandable point of view, I guess.’, Ron shrugged and Sean nodded.

  ‘We still need to get out of here and reach the Sidhe before the moon is over. And you being a hot commodity doesn’t make that any easier. But at least now we know why there is half a fleet of knights on our track.’, Ron murmured.

  ‘You might know, but I don’t.’ Ian complained.

  ‘You, my boy, are the perfect weapon. Neigh immune to magic, being a seventh son of a seventh son, paired with considerable magic powers due to your Sidhe blood. The side that convinces you to fight for them is going to win the smouldering cold war of the nexus and the planes connected to it.’, Sean explained with a worried expression then adding ‘And, my dear nephew, you are utterly unprepared. That’s something we are going to fix, when we are in the Sidhe, but first we need to escape. And those few dozen knights will do anything to get you under their thumb.’