Jack wrote silently in his study. It had only been a handful of days since he had climbed out of the flesh-mass underneath reality. It had been an arduous task, and it had taken a lot out of him. He took a day to rest, another to make his way to the flood, and another to chart a course. He'd lost track of time at sea by that point.
He wrote a letter to nobody. A log of his thoughts to keep him sane while he travelled. He'd grown so used to having the crew around, making noise and being cheery, that the silence felt eerie to him. I must go back, he wrote. To Lazarus' grave. To my birthplace. I wish to see my first friend once more. I wonder if he still remembers me. Then he realized how silly that was. Hamark had never met Jack Saltwater. Only the dreary boy whom he'd killed. I wonder if he'll accept the man I have become. Hamark meant the world to Jack. He'd been the only light in his life during the time he'd spent in keep Kuroi. He'd been the one to show him what life truly was outside the keep's walls, and the one to instil in him that fiery love for adventuring. If not for Hamark, Jack would've never been born in the first place. I wonder if he read the letter Lazarus left him. I wonder if he'll forgive me.
It would take him a few more days to arrive at his destination, but time was what he had most of. For all intents and purposes, Jack Saltwater was dead in a barren plateau, and every nobleman in Order celebrated. The crew will be fine. He assured himself. Miavelle's a natural leader, and the lot of them are a hardy bunch. They'll survive. Truth was, Jack missed them dearly. The short months they'd spent together had endeared them deeply to him, and he could hardly see himself travelling for long without them any more. But for now, he'd endure the silence. He had other matters to attend to. They can think me dead a little longer.
After a few days of travel, stopping only at the occasional port of call to resupply, he'd shored on the island where the Crimson Keep resided. It had always seemed a pretentious name to Jack. It was a massive mess of spires and walls looming over him. The windows were adorned with red tapestry that depicted the emblem of clan Kuroi, and the rooftops were of Manacrafted eldwood. The Kuroi were a clan of Mages, after all. Maybe that's why I was treated the way I was. Jack wondered. I didn't inherit the talent for Magery. That was wrong, of course, but Jack didn't know that yet.
He walked silently toward the front door. He didn't know what to expect. Would the guards attack? Would his mother even recognize him any more? The first thought was silly. No sane man would attack a Kuroi in their own keep. The second thought brought him comfort. He didn't yet know if he wanted to meet his mother. Uncertainty will get you killed, Lazarus, said her voice in his head. Perhaps I should let it. Jack met the gaze of the guards operating the large gates into the keep. He stood tall, ready for a fight. Yet the guards simply looked in his eyes—crimson red—and let him pass. Either they don't recognize me, or mother is better at keeping secrets than I thought. He walked past the gates and into the entrance garden. It was a long, ornamented walkway. Jack gazed at the statues of the previous clan heads and felt a touch of envy. It could've been him on those podiums, carved out of the finest marble. If only he'd been born with the slightest sliver of talent… Lazarus wouldn’t have needed to die, if that were the case. He thought. But he would have lived a monster like Mother.
The groundskeepers looked at him with concern as he walked through the garden. Those that looked at his eyes stopped everything they were doing to do a short bow, and never looked into his eyes again. The ones that didn't meet his gaze simply continued working with alarmed expressions. It is natural. Jack thought. These people never met Lazarus, and a Kuroi that a worker in the Crimson Keep doesn't recognize is quite unusual. He walked on until he reached the main gates. Nobody came out to greet him, and nobody tried to stop him, so he simply pushed the heavy door open.
The halls of keep Kuroi were wide and regal, imitating those of a royal palace. The floors were carpeted in deep red, and the walls were of gray brick. The furniture limited itself to a few paintings or sculptures. Jack would have called it beautiful, if he didn't know where the carpet's dye came from. The whole place had a faint scent of iron. A few maids and guards moved around the halls, but they avoided his gaze and stayed out of his way. It was surreal, walking freely through those halls. Lazarus wasn't allowed to leave his tower, and he was never brave enough to sneak out into them. He only recognized the path to his destination because of the rare times his mother forced him to execute the occasional prisoner of war. Get accustomed to the feeling, Lazarus. In the large, windowless halls, the voice in his head seemed louder than ever. The lives of the weak are for you to do away with as you please.
As he walked, he came across what seemed to be a dining hall. Butlers and servants buzzed about, carrying raw food, spices and dishes. He walked up to the feasting table, which was made of reflective crystals and metal. He could see his face in the reflection, glistening amidst the sheen of the crystals. He had changed a lot. Lazarus was a kid who couldn’t bring himself to smile to save his life. Now, Jack found it strange to not bear a grin on his face. He was scarred. More than any man should be, and yet live. He’d bounced back from mortal injuries and fought through immense pain and terrible curses. I’ve got Mia to thank for that. I’ve lost count of how many times she’s saved my life. But there was something else, something more glaring that he saw in his reflection. My hair… A tuft of it had turned white at the front. Not the white of an old man’s hair, but a white that almost resembled blinding limelights. A strong contrast to his black hair and even blacker nails. Strangest scar I’ve got, he thought in amusement.
After a bit more walking, Jack had arrived at the back end of the main building. A few spires branched off here and there, but most of the island was occupied by the single large construction. Behind it, was a place Jack felt no excitement to revisit. As he stepped around the training grounds—a pit, bottomed by sand and adorned with skeletons and dummies—he saw Lazarus' tower. It can't contain me any longer, he assured himself with a sigh. Standing in front of the tower's entrance, was a tall woman in armour, boasting the emblem of clan Kuroi, carved in red. She looked at the slim spire with solemn severity. Jack stepped softly besides her, making certain to keep his eyes out of her view, either by turning his head or straight up closing them. He stood beside her, gazing up at the tower. He stood with his back slightly turned away from her.
The woman was grizzled. A single streak of scarred flesh split her face from left to right, and her once beautiful features were beginning to wrinkle. “Tell me, stranger. You are a bold one to break into my home and not stab me in the back when you had the chance.” Her hand steadied around the pommel of the sword at her waist, but Jack knew that she would not attack so hastily. “Your step is light and your senses must be keen, if you managed to sneak past my guards unnoticed.” Jack chuckled a bit. For all that the woman’s pride held against the weak, respect toward the strong was essentially second nature to her. The thought made Jack laugh even more. “What possesses you, stranger? Do you not fear death?” “Death?” Jack questioned. “A fate I’ve met twice already. Tell me, woman. I seek a servant of yours, by the name of Hamark. Where may I find him?” They stood in silence for a handful of seconds. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while… What a strange man Chance has brought me. You come to my keep seeking for a man long dead.” Jack didn’t believe her at first, but then he remembered who it was that he spoke to. “What fate befell him?” He kept his air of civility, but his breath became short and his heart pounded. Hamark was dead. “The fate any treasonous wretch should meet. Executed for the crime of killing my one and only son.” Jack broke his facade and turned to look at her with enraged eyes. Tears formed and his teeth grit. His smile morphed from a playful grin into the look of a tiger bearing his teeth.
Her eyes, much like his, were crimson red. She gasped and unsheathed her blade. “My blood…” She didn’t finish the sentence. Jack pounced on her in an instant, slamming her against the tower wall. Ordinarily, Lady Kuroi would’ve been able to shake Jack off her quite easily, but not this time. Her Will faltered because of the shock. She’d fully assumed she was the last Kuroi that remained, yet another stood before her with hatred in his eye. “Who… Are you?” she questioned with bated breath. Jack smiled at her and said, “I am the true culprit. It is me who killed your son.” With that declared, the Lady’s Will returned to her, and she pushed Jack away from her. “Impossible! Hamark confessed to the deed himself!” Jack fell on his rear from the push. He laughed and said, “Ha! Of course he did!” And perhaps it wasn’t fully a lie when Hamark declared that, so many days ago. After all, he was the one to poison Lazarus’ mind with tales of wonder. Jack stood back on his feet. By this point, the keep’s guard began pouring into the courtyard. Lady Kuroi instructed them not to act with a wave of her hand. “What do you know of me and my kin!? How is it that you bear our features!?” His smile deepened, and he Summoned his harpoon. “Why don’t you come find out?”
