It has been a little over three weeks since the ship had set sail, and Jarvarax was feeling very anxious. After all, they were in the middle of an ocean, and his doubts about the crew has already risen to unsettling proportions.

Every now and then, Jarvarax would patrol the ship, observing every nook and cranny of the vessel. The first thing that stood out to him was validation of his observations when they first boarded the galleon—that being, the fact that this ship was extremely understaffed.

It was eerie, walking through the halls of a silent ship, day in and day out. When he did find crew members, they were oddly quiet too, and exceedingly timid. They’d answer questions quickly and with as few words as possible, before scurrying off to do more work. Half of them were visibly nervous whenever Jarvarax tried to talk to them, too.

The second thing that stood out was the payment. Kalaman had received their commission payment from captain Nahar; a down-payment of gold and gems, enough to purchase several large mansions. Which begs the question, if the captain had this much money, enough to hire the services of a hero’s party, then why didn’t he hire more staff? Especially with such a large ship?

The third thing that stood out, however, was far more alarming.

Jarvarax was dragonborn. As such, his sense of smell was keener than most humans. That’s why he had little trouble noticing the clumsily cleaned blood smears on the walls of the ship. It seemed that none of Jarvarax’s party members noticed this detail, however. They were faint, so if you weren’t looking, you wouldn’t see it.

Something happened on this ship, and it was recent. A whole slew of possibilities arose in Jarvarax’s mind. Pirate attack, mutiny, theft ... whatever happened here, things certainly didn’t end peacefully.

“Sir Jarvarax!”

A voice called out from behind him as he was walking the halls, one more unfamiliar than the ones he had gotten used to. He turned around to see the new raven-black haired cleric of the party.

“What is it, Nentonia?”

“Ah, I was just wondering if you needed any help, that’s all,” she said. “I heard from Remina about what happened to your previous cleric. It’s, um ... I’m sorry for your loss.”

“...It is fine. Get to your point,” Jarvarax replied with a bit of force in his voice.

“My apologies,” Nentonia bowed slightly. “Remina also said that you’ve been having trouble managing the team since then. I’m not as strong as any of you, I know, so I thought I could help with this stuff instead!”

Nentonia’s eyes, a dizzying yellow, held nothing but her genuine feelings. Jarvarax could tell that much. In all honesty, he found it hard to interact with her, so he usually tried to avoid her. In the past few days, Nentonia’s been getting pretty close to Remina. Kalaman has strangely been talking to her a lot lately, too. Jarvarax simply left the task of acquainting her to the party to them, but at the end of the day, she was supposed to be Ques’ replacement—someone to share Jarvarax’s managerial burdens with, as Ques did.

“There is no need,” he replied, and walked away.

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He wondered why he refused. Jarvarax had always thought of himself as the logical one in the party, but for the first time in what seemed like forever, he made a decision he himself did not understand.

There was something inside him that didn’t feel okay with it all.

He was frustrated and he didn’t know why.

†

“Blood smears, you say? That is troublin’, for sure...”

A few days have passed, and Jarvarax decided to confide with Remina alone about his doubts. Kalaman was impulsive, and lacking a penchant for diplomacy. Things could get ugly very quickly if he found out. In the same vein, Armei’s brash, shoot-first-ask-questions-later attitude could end up sparking some unwanted conflicted too, especially with how overprotective she was of Kalaman. Nentonia’s only been in the party for a few weeks by this point, so Jarvarax didn’t trust her enough yet. Thus, Remina was the only one he felt comfortable divulging his findings with.

“I feel like captain Nahar is hiding something from us,” he said. “This crew, this ship ... it unsettles me, Remina.”

“Hmm, I get what your sayin’, but is there really anythin’ we can do at this point?” she replied. “We’re in the middle of the sea, and not one of us knows how to steer a ship. If things get ugly between us and the crew, we might end up stranded here in the open ocean. I’d rather not become shark food, thank you very much. ‘Sides, all we need to do is escort ‘em, right? If we just shut up and don’t ask questions, we’ll be able to reach shore in no time.”

“What if they are plotting something against us? You know Kalaman has many enemies. One of them could have hired this crew as assassins to take him out. In the middle of the sea, he has nowhere to run. This is the perfect place to be ambushed!”

“This hasn’t been the first time an assassin’s paid a visit, no?” she shrugged her shoulders. “Kal’s invincible. They could send an entire army and it probably wouldn’t be enough. Honestly, the man’s too amazin’.”

“You take this situation too lightly, Remina. We cannot let ourselves become vulnerable, especially where we are now.”

“Then, what do you suppose we do?” Remina asked, her tone getting heavier all of a sudden. “Do we confront them and risk things gettin’ violent? You know that if things get violent with us, people die. Honestly, Jar? I can’t stand that anymore.”

Remina’s eyes were beginning to glisten, and her voice was weaker than usual. He could hear it shake slightly, as if she was trying to push down words that were trying to come up.

“...No, you are right. Forgive me, I had gotten worked up. All we need to do is have our guard up for now, that’s all.”

The discussion ended there, with Jarvarax’s worries not finding any resolution.

For the next couple of weeks, Jarvarax did just as he said. He waited and observed, all while keeping his guard up. His anxieties would only grow, however, as he would observe strange behavior.

Even stranger was that it wasn’t from the crew, but from his own party.

Kalaman and Nentonia, who talked frequently during the voyage’s start, were now hardly seen together. Kalaman, who was already a taciturn man, felt even more silent than before, and spent most of his days sitting in his room, staring at open space. Nentonia, on the other hand, was often walking from place to place, restlessly exploring the ship whenever she could. Jarvarax rarely ever saw the two of them in the same room.

Armei’s mood got worse and worse as the voyage continued. Whenever she replied to anything anyone said, her voice was harsh and rejecting, as if she didn’t want to talk to anyone.

And Remina was quiet. Usually, she would chat up everyone she met as often as she could, but lately she’s been passing people by more often, without saying anything aside from a casual greeting here or there.

All of this unsettled Jarvarax in a way he couldn’t describe.

It felt like something in his life was unraveling in a way he couldn’t control. He had entered a dark cave, and lost his grip on the reigns.

But it was fine. If Ques was here, then there wouldn’t be a problem in the first place. Jarvarax needed to do everything Ques would’ve done, and things would turn out okay. Jarvarax could do it, he knew he could. He had to. He knew Ques best, didn’t he?

Jarvarax had went wrong somewhere along the line. He just didn’t know where.

A week later, the worst-case scenario had come.

They were on a ship in the middle of the open ocean, and an assassin was on board with them.