A New Horizon

Kano had expected the village's attention to dwindle once Brannis sailed off, but Coral Spit remained abuzz with speculation. By midmorning, small clusters of fishermen, tradespeople, and curious onlookers orbited the Sea-Glass family's hut, eager for any new developments. Most of them, Kano noticed, cast hesitant smiles or polite nods—clear signs that the pirate ambush had changed how the villagers viewed him. Yet a flicker of caution still shone in their eyes: Would the Sea-Glass family draw them into more conflict?

From the threshold of their modest home, Marro surveyed the gathering. "I can't remember the last time so many people wanted to talk to us," he remarked dryly, scratching the stubble on his chin. "Usually, they keep their distance."

Reina, shawl draped loosely around her arms, stood at Kano's side. "They're curious—maybe worried we'll do something else daring and unpredictable. They may be grateful we fought off the pirates, but they're still unsure if we bring trouble."

Kano pressed his lips together. He couldn't deny the tension beneath the polite chatter. One false step, and they might turn on us again. He supposed that was part of the price for stepping into a leadership role—especially while harboring a hidden link to Stormrún.

A wiry fisherman broke away from the group and ambled up, doffing a tattered cap. "Good day," he said, voice hushed. "Just wanted to say thanks for that raid. My nephew was on the boat that got sunk a while back; those pirates nearly claimed his life. Seeing them run… well, it means something." He cleared his throat. "If you need help with anything more—repairs, extra nets—I'm around."

"Thank you," Marro said, a thread of warmth cracking his usual reserve. "That means a great deal."

As the fisherman stepped away, Reina touched Kano's shoulder. "Seems we've found more allies than I'd dared to hope."

"Yeah…" Kano inhaled, thoughts still heavy with the memory of Brannis's departure. Allies in the village might not be enough if Valrakan's forces ever come. Even so, hearing real gratitude in the voices of neighbors felt oddly uplifting—like planting the first seed of genuine acceptance.

He turned as a familiar figure approached—Aila, the village midwife who had quietly supported them from the start. She inclined her head to Reina. "The council's meeting again tomorrow to discuss 'safety measures' for Coral Spit. Talk of forming a watch patrol, maybe building a better signal system. Seems your raid sparked some initiative."

Reina's eyes lit with cautious hope. "That's progress, at least. Will they let us attend?"

Aila gave a grim half-smile. "I'm not sure. Some councilors might want your input—others fear you're trying to 'take over' by stealth. There's also… talk of whether House Stormrún is still guiding your actions." She lowered her voice. "Elder Hani won't say it outright, but rumors swirl that you have bigger ambitions."

Kano's stomach clenched. He forced a steady tone. "We only want Coral Spit safe. And we'll help however we can."

Aila nodded. "If I learn anything concrete, I'll let you know. In the meantime, watch yourselves. Some folks thrive on stirring fear."

With that, she slipped away, leaving a fresh tension crackling in the humid air. Rumors about Stormrún, Kano thought. This was bound to happen once we used that name in our raid.

Marro exchanged a guarded look with Reina. "We'd hoped to lean on Brannis if people doubted our intentions. Now we have to handle it ourselves."

Kano ran a hand across his forehead, wiping away sweat. "Maybe we should go to Hani first—ask to be part of the new watch patrol." If the council saw them pitching in for the village's defenses, it might soften further suspicion.

Reina nodded. "Can't hurt. If we stand on the sidelines, the rumors will only fester."

Marro agreed with a curt bob of his head. "Better we show we want to cooperate. Besides, if the council is planning improvements, we might even push them to consider alliances elsewhere. The more prepared they are, the better."

With the decision made, they gathered a few small tokens—fresh fish from a neighbor, a handful of leftover herbs—intending to offer them in good faith to the council. The gesture was more symbolic than anything, but symbols mattered in politics, even in a tiny fishing village.

Before they left, Kano paused by the open doorway, catching one last look at the sea. Brannis is probably a few leagues out by now, he mused, hope and worry warring in his chest. I'll do my part here, Brannis. And when you return… we'll be ready for whatever comes next.

He forced himself away from the horizon and followed his parents into the swelling crowd. As they walked, villagers parted to let them pass—no sneers or muttered curses this time, but hushed greetings and uneasy respect. It was as though the pirate victory and Brannis's departure had pushed the Sea-Glass name halfway out of the shadows. Halfway, but still not fully welcomed.

They made their way toward the council's makeshift hall, uncertain what reception they'd find. Yet Kano felt a cautious lift in his heart. If the village was on the cusp of real change—however small—then every step counted. Stormrún or not, he and his family would fight to keep Coral Spit from sliding back into apathy and fear.

A wary hush cloaked the council hall as Kano, Marro, and Reina stepped inside. It wasn't much of a "hall" really—just a long, open-air platform framed by rough-hewn posts, with a few tables for record-keeping. Still, half a dozen villagers gathered, whispering around the edges while Elder Hani and two councilors huddled near a battered crate-turned-desk.

A watchman at the entrance stiffened, but allowed them through with a curt nod—no outright hostility, just watchful caution. Kano couldn't help noting how the villagers parted to let them pass. He sensed anxious curiosity in every glance: What do the Sea-Glass family want now?

Hani paused mid-sentence, lifting her cane slightly as she addressed them. "You come unbidden," she said, neither welcoming nor condemning. Her alert gaze flicked across the small bundle of offerings in Reina's arms. "We're in the midst of planning how to patrol our coastlines. This is not an open forum yet."

Marro cleared his throat, his voice even. "We apologize for interrupting, but we wanted to offer our support—any knowledge, manpower, or resources that might help Coral Spit fortify its shores."

Reina stepped forward and placed the modest gifts on a nearby bench: fresh fish and herbs. "A small token of good faith," she explained. "We know tensions still run high after the pirate raid…and Brannis's departure. But if the village is serious about new defenses, we want to help."

Hani regarded the offerings for a moment. One councilor—a wiry man with sharp cheekbones—exchanged a look with her, then inclined his head slightly. "We can't deny your recent success," he admitted, tapping a quill on a scrap of parchment. "Many villagers now see you as protectors—even if we'd prefer more…transparent methods."

Kano swallowed. "We only went behind the council's back because we had no choice." He forced himself to speak calmly. "If we work together this time—openly—the results will be better."

A brief, loaded silence fell. Then Hani exhaled softly. "Indeed. We're discussing more robust watch patrols. That includes constructing small guard posts at strategic points near the reefs and stationing at least one boat equipped with signals. But we lack the labor and materials to do it swiftly. If you wish to help, you can start there."

Relief mingled with a faint undercurrent of apprehension in Kano's chest. They're letting us in. "We'll gather volunteers," he said. "Organize supply runs, coordinate with the fishers who know the reefs best."

"Do that," Hani said, voice still reserved. She lifted her cane, pointing it in quiet emphasis. "But remember, there's a difference between aiding Coral Spit and trying to steer it. This is our home, and the council maintains final say. Understood?"

Marro inclined his head, respecting the boundary. "Understood."

Elder Hani seemed about to say more when a tall, broad-shouldered fisher—scar-faced Nallo, who'd fought alongside Kano—stepped forward from the sidelines. "If you'll allow me, Elder," Nallo said, "I can speak for many who welcome the Sea-Glass family's help. After all, they risked their lives to drive off those pirates."

A small ripple of assent ran through the onlookers. Hani's expression didn't soften, but she gave a short nod. "Very well. We'll reconvene in two days to finalize patrol assignments. In the meantime, gather your resources. We'll see if your plan holds water."

With that, the elder rapped her cane on the makeshift desk, signaling an end to the discussion. Though brief, the exchange left an odd mix of tension and promise in the humid air. It's not exactly trust, Kano thought, but it's a start.

As they exited the hall, a handful of villagers approached—some eager to offer ideas, others simply curious. Kano fielded quick questions alongside his parents, promising to share more details once the patrol blueprint was formalized. The low-level hum of gossip about "Sea-Glass turning into Stormrún advisers" lingered, but no one openly challenged them.

Finally, slipping away from the throng, Kano let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "They didn't shut us down," he murmured to Marro and Reina. "That's…progress."

Reina squeezed his arm in silent agreement. "We'll keep building trust, little by little."

Marro gazed toward the water beyond the village, where Brannis had disappeared that morning. "We've secured a place here, at least for now. That's more than we had before."

Kano nodded, a quiet conviction settling in his chest. They still walked a delicate line—public defenders of Coral Spit, private heirs to a fallen House. But each small step in bridging that gap felt like forging a new future, for both Sea-Glass and Stormrún.