Episode 2

The dawn unveiled the rocky formations that protected the small port, gray silhouettes emerging from the shadows of the night. Gabriel’s ship slid into the dock, a silent specter returning to a place where it should never have come back. He remained by the railing, his gaze distant. That port was not unfamiliar to him; he had returned there before, always a shadow among shadows, a faceless ghost, never daring to approach his family or Lilian. There were things he preferred to leave buried, but now, the situation had changed, and he was involved in more secrets than he cared to admit.

In the years that followed his forced departure, Gabriel had found a way to survive at sea. Under the name Lucien D’Anjou, he sailed as a privateer, protected by a letter of marque issued by the British crown. Though he had left under unfavourable circumstances, he had fought hard to establish himself. His success caught the attention of the king himself, who entrusted him with espionage missions and secretly granted him the title of Count, along with lands and properties. Despite his influence at court, the true reason for the king’s favor remained unknown, allowing him to continue operating in the shadows without raising suspicion.

In the Caribbean, he had fought Spanish and French ships, amassing a fortune that he hid even from those he trusted. His letter remained valid, but the king himself had asked Gabriel to pretend otherwise. He remembered the last conversation he had had with His Majesty: "The future of the crown may depend on this, Sinclair. I need someone who can expose them, and no one knows who you are." Those words had infiltrated his mind since he left the Caribbean. Now, upon his return, it was not just his past that haunted him. It was the responsibility he carried. What he had been asked to do followed him as he gazed at the horizon. Lucien D’Anjou existed where Gabriel Sinclair had died. That was how he presented himself to the world — a man with no ties, no past, only the purpose he had chosen for himself. But on that day, it was not Lucien who was returning to England. It was Gabriel, and that was a danger he could not ignore.

"Captain, we are preparing to anchor," announced the first mate. Gabriel turned, his expression unreadable.

"Prepare the crew and check the depth. I want everything ready for anchoring as soon as we approach."

The man nodded and withdrew quickly, and Gabriel turned back to the horizon, breathing deeply. Tomorrow, he would be on solid ground again. But this journey was not just another assignment. The name Cavendish had surfaced in the rumours he had heard, accompanied by dark insinuations, and deep inside, he knew that this return would place him face to face with the past he had tried to bury.

When the ship anchored, the morning light had begun to illuminate the small port. Gabriel descended to the lower deck to prepare. He chose clothes that reflected the role he would need to play on land: a respectable merchant, with refined manners and well-calculated intentions. As soon as he stepped onto the dock, the scent of salt and fresh fish flooded his senses. The movement in the village was familiar — noisy and chaotic — but the faces were unfamiliar.

Walking through the village’s narrow streets, Gabriel’s wide-brimmed hat partially obscured his face. His firm footsteps echoed against the uneven stones as he maintained a steady pace, his coat swaying with his movements. He passed crowded shops and fishermen unloading their fresh catch but remained indifferent to the commotion around him.

When he stopped at a more secluded corner, a thin boy approached quickly, his restless eyes scanning the street as if afraid of being followed.

"Sir," he said in a hurried whisper, extending a crumpled piece of paper. However, before handing it over, his gaze locked onto Gabriel’s neck, and he swallowed hard. "They told me it was important... that I should only give it to you if you had a medallion."

Gabriel pulled the medallion slightly out, letting the morning light illuminate the cold metal. The engraved symbol was discreet but precise, an identity mark that few would recognize. The boy hesitated for an instant before letting out a sigh of relief, as if that small fragment of metal carried the weight of an ancient promise. The boy relaxed upon seeing it, extending the note with more confidence.

Gabriel grabbed the note, his eyebrows furrowing as he unfolded the paper. The hastily written words were filled with urgency:

"Lilian is in danger. We need to talk before it’s too late."

Gabriel clenched the paper tightly, his fingers curling around the note. Lilian’s name, written in that rushed handwriting, made his blood race. There was urgency in those words, and he could not ignore it. The handwriting was unmistakable—Clara. Over the years, she had never contacted him without a good reason. He did not know how she had discovered he was back, but if Clara had reached out to him, it meant that something serious was happening.

"Who gave this to you?" Gabriel asked, his voice low but firm.

The boy hesitated, his face tightening as if he did not want to answer. "A girl," he finally murmured, casting a quick glance over his shoulder. "She said it was important and that I should only give it to you if I saw the medallion."