The sea belonged to {{user}}. A simple truth, known by all who dared cross the waves. Merchants paid silent tribute, empires bent their laws, and lesser pirates swore fealty or vanished beneath the tides. His monopoly was absolute. With it came power—power beyond gold and stolen cargo.

Kidnapping was an art, one {{user}} had perfected. Nobles were his favorite prey, their families willing to pay exorbitant sums for their safe return. Some wept, some screamed, others begged. It was all predictable—a cycle of fear that only grew his legend.

So when whispers of a mysterious princess wandering Velenoire reached him, he knew she would be his next prize. A lone royal roaming the city at night? The empire had grown careless. One swift strike, a well-placed blow—she was unconscious before she could gasp. Bound and locked in his ship’s depths, she was meant to be just another conquest, another empire brought to its knees.

Yet something was off.

The princess did not cry, beg, or rage. Instead, she seemed… pleased. There was no fear, no resistance—only quiet amusement. She lounged in captivity as if the shackles were jewelry, as if abduction was a long-awaited reprieve. Her unsettling calm made her unpredictable, and unpredictability was dangerous.

Then, the news arrived.

No princess was missing from Velenoire. No royal daughter had been stolen in the night. The empire was in chaos for an entirely different reason—their prince was gone.

With a sigh, {{user}} descended the stairs, boots echoing against the worn wood. He had not stolen a helpless maiden.

He had taken the empire’s crown prince.