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But after that grand port sank into Silence, he fled north, past the starving masses to the Iberian interior, to the small town that would one day become the capital.

I saw him kneeling by the broken town gates, weeping uncontrollably. From his weeping, the town obtained its new name: Perdonidora. 'Forgiveness has left us.'

However, what people needed at the time was not mourning, but consolation. Many prefer to use the shortened form, Perdoni. 'Forgiveness.'

And now, the last Eye of Iberia, the final legacy of the Golden Age, shines bright once more. What do you think that signals, Irene?

Hope and determination.

'Hope and determination.' Of course.

Ah, youth. The determination in your eyes is brighter than Dario's when he was your age. Good, good.

But those words, as inspiring as they are, are often not the fully correct answer.

After half a century of being pushed back, our front is finally advancing. Soon, this will become the new center of the Inquisition.

But at the same time, we must necessarily bare everything to the ocean. To Seaborn and Ægir alike.

Iberia is stretched thin. This country can no longer hide its exhaustion and sickness. It is a simple fact, plain for all to see.

And there is another fact to consider. We can retreat no further.

Maestro—Ah, it's been a while, Doña Irene.

Indeed it has.

Those clothes suit you.

Th-Thank you.

Ah, right, there's been an emergency. The lighthouse just picked up signals of unknown origin.

They seem to be coming from not the sea, but the sky.

Jordi. I think we can already seen them...

Carmen and Irene are fixated on the distant sky. The young clerk follows suit.

He freezes on the spot.

They see a school of fins soaring through the sky.

What are they?

Bionic drones. The Islanders brought similar creations to land, all those years ago.

The matrix of drones crosses the sea in the blink of an eye, matching the height of the towering lighthouse. One separates itself from the formation and slowly hovers before the three.

Its wings open and close like fins, like a speck of light dancing in the void, and soon after an amiable and charismatic female voice resounds from it.

(Iberian) People of Iberia. Do not be alarmed.

Ægir greets you.

I am Clementia, a technology consul of our Institute of Societal and Administrative Supervision.

Carmen holds his lantern aloft, looking serenely at the drone before him.

Two completely different forms of light face each other, as though in a dialogue between two different civilizations—or a confrontation.

Saint Carmen I Iberia, of the Iberian Inquisition.

I believe this is the first official communication between our nations.

Indeed.

You speak our tongue as well as any Iberian.

I installed an Iberian language module before leaving the home territories. I hope you'll forgive me if I ever use the wrong expression.

Moreover, forgive me for having to contact you in this form, Sir... Iberia.

We have no objections to your appearance, Madame Consul. I only regret that it has taken us so long to begin this conversation.

Despite your so-called 'Waterway' project being more than half-complete and close at hand, we Iberians find ourselves in complete ignorance of it.

To make amends, we'd like to invite your envoys to visit our city. Ægir respects the efforts Iberia has made when you were caught up in the Seaborn crisis.

'Caught up in.' Do you mean to say that everything Iberia has faced was merely the aftermath of <i>your</i> crisis?

I do.

Let's not be tied down by formalities, Sir.

We recognize the power of language. Your name itself, Carmen I Iberia, is a symbol. A symbol of courage and valor.

This is why we came to you. We hope that by reaching an accord with Iberia and the other terrestrial nations, we will be able to create a Waterway that links directly to land.

We will clear the stretch of sea between Ægir's home territories and the land, so as to facilitate our forces coming ashore.

...I hope I need not remind you what sending an army to another nation's border implies on land.

Given the enormity of the oncoming threat, we will exhaust every means at our disposal to resist it.

I am more than willing to come explain to you in person if necessary, but it would be easier for you to understand the situation if you were to join us in the depths.

The fleets of our Legions VIII and X are patrolling and suppressing the Seaborn in these waters. They will soon escort you to our city of Milliarium.

This drone formation will continue to notify you of any nearby combat or environmental changes until you have safely arrived at the city.

There may be an unprecedented disaster brewing beneath the waves.

Sir Inquisitor, I worry that though the earth is vast, it is but an isolated island.

The lights of the drone matrix cut out, putting a stop to their sudden communication.

The sea breeze continues to blow as the old man slowly lowers his lantern.

'A Waterway that links directly to land.' She's eloquent, but...

Arrogant. No doubt.

A haughty adult wielding a weapon, loathe to use finesse when dealing with an unarmed child.

Irene, inform our cooperation partners of this most recent communication.

Kal'tsit has already agreed to serve as Iberia's envoy. The Abyssal Hunters should also have made their decision by now, considering they've always had reservations about the Waterway program.

Right away!

I'll also keep the other Inquisitors in Gran Faro abreast of the situation.

I've made a recording of your entire conversation with Ægir, Maestro. Please, take a look.

A-As for whether you approve of me going...

I recall you submitted your application a week ago.

Yes. Since the Ægir fleet is on their way now, I was wondering if...

Never hesitate when you've already made up your mind. It only makes you less persuasive.

When I was younger, Uncle Thiago was always worrying about me. He'd tell me: 'Jordi, you should leave Gran Faro. Leave Iberia.'

But he never told me <i>where</i> to go.

Ægir was always my homeland under the sea, but I had no way of approaching it. I'd never heard the voice of Ægir, or seen its cities.

But now, it's so, so close.

The Inquisition has approved your application, Jordi Fontanarossa. You will serve as an envoy of Iberia, and accompany Irene and Kal'tsit to the Ægir city.

Thank you, Maestro.

Don't thank me. This isn't a reward. Your work since joining the Inquisition has not been particularly good.

I chose Irene because she has already readied herself, even going as far as to renounce her long-standing faith.

And I chose you because you are still bewildered and frustrated. Your weakness will consume you.

Joining the Inquisition was a test. Returning to your homeland is another.

I... I understand.

(Agitated whinny)

This is the deepest part of the trench.

They hollowed out its sides to make their nest. That's why we never noticed it before, despite circling this place several times.

(Wary whinny)

Yes. I smell it too.

This scent... After destroying the ocean's native ecosystem, the Seaborn have created a new one that serves only them.

A comprehensive Seaborn ecosystem, where once it only existed in an oceanic abyss.

Return, Rocinante. I will carry on alone.

(Swaying its neck in annoyance)

The entire continental shelf has changed. I must know who churned these waves.

Tell the Knight to continue the hunt.

We will not be parted for long.

Ulpianus swims into the nest.

He chooses not to use stealth. Luminescent vegetative Seaborn light up every corner of the nest. There is nowhere to hide in the first place.

Atop sets of spiraling blades, minute and curiously-shaped organisms sleep, or perhaps drift along.

The rocks of the seafloor cannot be seen. The fine tendrils of the nethersea brand slowly sway in the current, catching fragments of organic matter. They weave together into thick mats, drowning out any sound Ulpianius makes.

He can sense the changes in his own body. His consciousness extends and his body relaxes, as though every cell in his body is trying to respond to something.

He is clearly an invader, but the entire lair blooms in response to him.

Ul... Ul-pian... Guh... Ul-pianus. Kin.

Ulpianus is nearly able to see through the approaching Seaborn's translucent body. He waits for it to spit out its clumsy words about preying or being preyed on by him, but nothing comes.

The Seaborn thinks about his thoughts.

Finally. You have traveled far.