The morning dawned slightly chilly. Anna pulled her father's coat closer as she and Lee passed beneath the towering trees. Their true height and immense girth had been shrouded by the night, but now that daylight was slowly growing brighter, Anna felt completely dwarfed. Lee, however, went on marching stolidly down the Trade Road, his mind obviously focused on other things. Anna trotted to keep up.

The candlewood trees had tough, thick bark; their branches were too high for climbing, and their leaves broad as a man's hand with fingers spread. Lee had explained to her the night before that the sap from these trees was used for making candles–a sort of candle that could only be found in the village of Kolla, to which they were headed. "The candles burn for amazing periods of time. The secret is in the sap, they say. Those candles will burn for as long as the trees live. And the trees live for quite a long while." Anna had gaped at the rustling darkness, wondering how such a thing could be true. She had never known that there were so many fascinating things about the Kingdom. Cities of thousands, markets selling everything and anything, and now candles that burned for decades? She felt like a fledgling being booted out of its nest. The things she was learning were overwhelming.

"Come on, there's some sort of clearing up ahead. Maybe we can have some breakfast. We're not far from Kolla anymore, anyway." Lee pointed to a small expanse that seemed to have been cleared of trees. There were a few stumps, all as wide as tables. In a moment, they had rummaged in their hastily collected gear for a meager breakfast. Anna munched on a slice of bread, investigating the stump they were sitting on. "See all those rings? That's how old this tree was, before it finally died," said Lee. "The villagers of Kolla are in charge of these woods, and they never cut a tree down unless its years are spent or it falls naturally. That's how these little clearings came to be."

"But how do they get the sap out of the trees?" Anna asked, trying to count all the rings.

"They won't tell a soul. That's why the candles can only be found in Kolla. They're very protective of their art, but even more protective of their forest."

"Amazing..." Anna murmured. "Did you travel there? Is that how you knew all this? Have you traveled everywhere?"

"No. Not everywhere. But I've seen most of Gareth, and once I went to the city of Taber in Leiden. I want to see more of the world, though. One day I will, and I'll see everything there is to see."

Anna frowned. "But...if you see everything...there won't be anything more to discover. You'll be bored out of your mind."

"I suppose so. I still want to do it though. I want to see all the wonders of the world and all the countries and all the cities and meet thousands of people."

"It sounds exciting enough...but I still say it's better to leave some things undiscovered. That way, you'll always have the hope that there is something more for you, out there."

Birds were beginning to sing high above them. The sun had crept up in the sky, and the forest was tinged in pale sunlight. Anna stood up and breathed the clean air of the Candlewood, thinking of the adventures yet to be had and the doors yet to be opened...and then tumbled down in fright as a horrendous crashing noise ripped through the quiet morning. Lee was up in an instant, sword drawn, one arm reaching to pull Anna to her feet.

"Get up, quick. I don't know what it is, but I know neither of us wants to go down without fighting."

Anna pulled her scimitar out of its sheath and raised it, ready to defend herself. She stood beside Lee and waited for the intruder to emerge. But instead of an intruder, they were met with a weakened and yet determined bugle call. "HALT! In the name of the King!"

Lee blinked at Anna, and Anna blinked at Lee. They both watched as a young man in torn livery came limping out from behind the trees. Despite his tattered appearance, he was still blowing his trumpet as loudly as ever, and calling out the same sentence over and over again.

"He's delirious," whispered Anna, slowly sheathing her weapon once more. "It would be ridiculous to fight him."

"Well of course we aren't going to fight him, didn't you hear what he said? He's a servant of the King! And we're on the King's side, remember?"

"Oh...yes, I remember...well, don't give me that look! Pirates are NOT on the King's side. They're on no one's side. I guess I was thinking like a pirate."

"Never mind that, come on and help me settle him down." Lee strode across the clearing to the maniacally bugling messenger, who began to flail at him wildly, calling out courtly insults. Anna ran and snatched the trumpet away, which was too much for the poor bewildered man. He sank to his knees and began to cry hot, feverish tears. Lee hauled him over to one of the stumps, sat him down, and offered him water. But the young man refused it, shaking his head wildly.

"No! I must not tarry here! Their Majesties sent me...find help...storm wrecked...our caravan...Their Majesties...lost...so...so tired..." And with that, he fainted dead away.

Meanwhile, Sam woke up in the most awkward position he had ever been unlucky enough to fall asleep in. He had steeled himself for a night in vigil by his window, hoping to catch more conversations or find out more about the mysterious people he had seen in the night. But sleep won out in the end, and when he opened his eyes, it was to close them again in pain. The wall had not been kind to his back, and a window sill is not a proper pillow. Groaning, the young captain pulled himself up and blinked out at the noonday sun.

"I've slept the entire morning away! This isn't good. A thousand things could have happened by now!" Nearly forgetting to lock his door, Sam left the house and went at a brisk pace down the cobbled streets of Quinn. The lunch hour, just like the dinner hour, was always a good time to be alone; everyone went indoors to eat and then nap, choosing to escape the heat of the sun. He passed market stalls, all closed for now, and heard the chatter of the diners as they feasted on the catch of the day or drank Quinn's famous apple cider. His own stomach was growling, but he chose to ignore it. There was too much to do.

At last, Sam reached the harbor. He was relieved to see that the Corona was there, safe and secure, and that the ship with green sails had not left its moorings either. He could see his sailors moving about on deck, and he went up the gangplanks to meet them.

"Captain! Overslept, did you?" One of the sailors grinned at him.

"Has anything strange happened? Have any more men been asking about the girl?"

"We heard a few of them in the pubs last night, Captain. They never said any names though. And—" Just then, Sam pushed the sailor out of the way in order to get a better view; something was happening on the other ship, its green sails flapping in the breeze. The sailor, not in the least alarmed, continued at his easygoing pace. "And anyway Captain, that ship you're looking at, it's from Leiden you know. The Ophelia, they call her." Sam was squinting at the figures moving on deck, trying to make out what was happening. He nodded absently at the sailor's words.

And then he saw her: the girl with the dark hood, from the night before! Sam nearly leapt overboard. But it would have done him no good, for just as suddenly as she appeared, the girl seemed to disappear; she and her companion, the tall man named Orris, went down the gangplank and began making their way down the street. Sam ran back onto the pier and then down a street parallel to the one he had seen them taking, determined to follow them and find out exactly what was going on.

Sam followed the pair all the way to the magnificent headquarters of the Trade Delegation, which stood in the northeastern quarter of the city. The beautiful building had been designed by a renowned Guillarean architect, and the beams and pillars were constructed with such grace that you felt as though the whole building would reach out to you and draw you in through its doors. Sam hid himself as well as he could without being completely out of range of their voices, his eyes glued to the scene.

He could not see the girl's face, no matter how he tried. The hood was well placed, and deep; it was meant to hide her. The tall man, he saw now, was no longer very young. Orris was ascending the steps of the Trade Delegation behind his mistress, who neither turned her head nor cared for her surroundings. Her bodyguard, however, was alert. He was ready before Sam was when the booming cry came echoing across the tiled courtyard.

"THERE SHE IS!!!!!" The voice was cold, rasping like serrated metal. In an instant, the courtyard was swarming with burly men, their faces scarred and their bulging arms covered in dark tattoos. Sam recognized several of them from the group that had stopped near his house. Their leader, whose voice had rung out first, drew a cutlass. Its sharp clang sliced through the air. The girl stumbled, but Orris caught her. Swinging her behind him, the tall guardsman matched the cutlass with a javelin. Its spiked edges glinted in the sun.

"None shall reach my Mistress alive. Advance, all who wish to perish on this day."

The men laughed hoarsely. "Well, well, well," said their leader. "We've got a feisty one here, lads." Their laughter continued, and it was as cruel as their smiles had been. One of them sauntered up, jeering, his weapon an axe notched from previous fights. His first swing was stillborn, however, for Orris was quick. The javelin impaled the gurgling man, and then was swiftly drawn out again. With a thud, the enemy hit the ground. This drove the leader and his minions mad with rage, and they surged upon the lone guardsman in the growing heat.

Sam made up his mind. He drew his own sword and ran into the fray. Situating himself back to back with Orris, he gritted his teeth and tried to explain who he was while trying to fend off the vicious attackers.

"Who are you, young one? Why do you come to my aid?"

"Sam, Captain of the R.S. Corona, sir. Forgive me, but I was following you."

Orris cried out in pain as a cutlass bit into his armored shoulder. He retaliated, sending the enemy flying into a topiary. Sam saw that the girl had, wisely, run up the steps and into the shadows of the pillars. At least she was safe. But they were so vastly outnumbered that it made his head spin. "There is no need to involve yourself in this battle," said Orris, beads of sweat trickling down his face.

"I have a feeling we're on the same side," Sam answered, ducking as a growling assailant tried to lop off his head.

"I thank you, young one. But the prospects look grim."

"Orris! Orris, please! There are too many! You'll be killed!" The girl cried out, one hand outstretched. Even then, the hood shielded her face. Orris stood his ground and did not answer. The leader, his blackened teeth and hard eyes clearly visible now that they were standing face to face, stalked up to Sam and Orris with his mouth twisted into a leering grin. He raised his cutlass.

And then, behind them, they heard the girl scream. Sam acted quickly, catching the leader off guard. He carved a deep gash into the man's chest, buying time for Orris to turn and run to his Mistress' aid. Sam stayed and battled the enraged enemy, his concentration all but cutting off what was happening behind him. He heard a voice, a beautiful voice, so smooth and clear that it reminded him of water, or fine music. It seemed to seep into his limbs, drag down his reflexes. But then, it had the same effect on his opponent as well.

Orris halted at the top step of the Trade Delegation, and he could see the bewildered faces of the diplomats and ambassadors staring out from behind the glass doors. In fact, he and Sam had been oblivious to the fact that a whole crowd had risen from tables and noontime naps and was now standing all around the courtyard. All the faces were set with wide eyes, and the harbor police force had been summoned. They had not arrived yet, though. The crowd gasped as the sharp point of a rapier stopped just inches over Orris' heart. The hand that held the rapier was pale as marble, and on its third finger gleamed a gem the color of a midnight sky.

"You will not take one step further, noble one. In fact, if you value her life, you will leave at once. I do not need you. But I will not hesitate to carve her eyes out and sell them as trinkets, if you choose to meddle in affairs not your own." The beautiful voice, sweet as honey, poured over them all. Sam felt as though he had been frozen in place, and might never move again unless that siren voice permitted. Orris, however, seemed immune to the lilting tone and melodious sound. He set his foot down on the top step and crossed the rapier with his javelin.

"We will do battle, madam, and then we shall see whose eyes become whose trinkets."

"Such arrogant words, old man. All I want is the girl."

Sobbing, the hooded girl was whipped out into the open, the rapier now aimed at her back, prodding her. Slowly, a woman emerged from behind the shadow of the pillar. Her hair, long and dark, rippled down her back. She was dressed in pirate attire, and her eyes were a venomous green. The pale skin and jet black hair created an alarming contrast. With one motion, the woman turned the girl to face her and pulled back her hood.

The entire crowd was transfixed, then, as the woman's eyes widened first in surprise, and then in silent rage. She pushed the girl violently to the side, parried a javelin thrust from Orris, and went straight to the double doors of the Trade Delegation. The faces peering out through the panes contorted in fright and then backed away as she raised the butt of her rapier and smashed the glass. Thrusting her hand through the hole, she unlocked the door and flung it open.

"Remember this day, ladies and gentlemen, and rejoice! For you have just made the acquaintance of Stella, the Bandit Queen." The pale hand tossed something through the open door.

And then, the Trade Delegation erupted in a cloud of smoke.