Crossed swords met amid the backdrop of purple flower spikes, evoking the image of the Royal Navy's flag, which fluttered proudly in the brisk sea breeze.
Ten nautical miles from Lanya Island, the ship White Pigeon halted, its sails billowing softly. Nearby, a smaller three-masted sailboat gently approached.
"Swordsman" Il stepped onto the deck of the White Pigeon with a measured stride. His arrival was met by the robust laughter of Lord Sproul, who exclaimed from the fore, "Mr. Il, it has been too long! Your presence honors us once more."
"My lord," Il responded with a respectful nod, "I am here at your gracious invitation."
"Ah, splendid!" Lord Sproul's voice boomed across the deck, his face beaming with a feigned joviality that belied his internal turmoil. "I have arranged a splendid banquet in your honor. Let us dine and converse."