It had rained late into the morning, which gave the cobblestone streets a dark gleam, and left the signature scent of greenery that grew wherever roots took hold. Zenos followed Mad down a sidewalk, past houses plated in metal like armor. Great wheels, attached to axles, stood idle in flowing creeks or on the faces of lonely barns, where they were networked with gears and cogs. There was a thin chimney capped by a funnel on every building, but no smoke.

“You’ll see those with sense are at the jetty,” Mad said. He pointed down the sloping road, toward a metal pier. A small crowd was gathered there, bundled in knee-length coats for warmth. “Anyone else is a fool.”

There was a long ship in the distant water, but it was too far for Zenos to see clearly. He could tell that it was clad in metal, just like the houses, and that it had a spine of three chimneys, which given the distance meant they were enormous. Clouds of white smoke billowed from the ship as it appeared to turn toward the pier.

“Is that ship burning?” Zenos asked.

“It’s a steam ship,” Mad said. “You’ll see them all over the waters of Bastilhas and Edwindy, but they’re not so common in Atilonia or the territories. A mana engine in the hold converts magic into energy, which powers the axles that turn its water wheels. That’s why you see the smoke, it’s not from a fire, it’s steam—vaporized water.”

Zenos stopped to marvel at it. He had devised many inventions using mana, the essential element of all magic, to power the city Darigon and the vast realm that was his empire. It had never occurred to him to use mana in such a way, which made him wonder all the more how it worked.

“That’s the last ship off Adheim,” Mad said from up ahead. He had stopped, hunched over with the backpack on his shoulders. “We need to get you a ticket, so come on.”

It was further down the street that Mad turned into a small storefront with Zenos not far behind. It was a cramped space, where Mad had to bend down to get his backpack through the door, and there was only just enough ceiling clearance for his own head. Zenos, who was short by comparison, didn’t have to watch his head.

I was much taller before, wasn’t I? he thought.

The walls of the shop were decorated in nautical themed trinkets and artwork, but what few shelves there were had been picked clean. An old man sat behind a clerk’s counter in the back of the room. There was a health bar over his head, but the name was again obfuscated. “Endelhar,” he croaked in the manner of one deep in their pipe.

“Lowether,” Mad said with a respectful nod. “I brought a friend. He needs a ticket.”

“Just the one?” Lowether asked. He set his pipe down on the counter.

Mad made a thin smile. “The one, please. And, if you would, I have another list.”

“So, you’re going out,” Lowether said as he turned a ticket wheel. “I don’t have much supplies left.”

“Not enough for one month?” Mad asked.

Zenos heard a ticket rip.

“Not enough for a day.” The old man grunted.

Mad set his backpack by the counter, searched the pockets of his threadbare coat, and produced a yellow note. He pushed the note toward Lowether.

The old man pushed reading glasses over his nose and examined Mad’s small handwriting. They exchanged a look. Lowether sucked on his pipe and set the note on the counter. “That’s a lot you’re asking for,” he said.

“I know,” Mad said.

“I think I have enough.”

Zenos pretended to look at the artwork while he listened to their conversation. He glanced over his shoulder and examined Mad’s face. It was strange to see that smile, so unlike the grin he flashed over lunch. It made Zenos wonder about Mad’s glassy black eyes. Was he looking at Lowether or elsewhere?

“This isn’t what I wanted,” Zenos discerned from Mad’s eyes. “But I am fine.”

Mad carried the backpack around the counter and left it there. He took the ticket, but left nothing on the counter. “There’s a bottle in there for you,” he said to Lowether. “You’ll find it when you’re loading up the pockets. Pour one for yourself, but leave some for the mountain if you don’t mind.”

“You didn’t have to leave me anything,” Lowether said.

Mad smiled at Lowether, then turned to Zenos. “Ready?”

Zenos nodded and waved to the storekeep, but the old man was already digging through the bag. They made their way toward the pier.

“Why did you leave your backpack there?” Zenos asked.

“Lowether has to stock it,” Mad said. There was new energy in his voice and a spring in his step, perhaps from the refreshing sea breeze, or relief that a mammoth backpack wasn’t on his shoulders. “Food, medicine, ammunition; if it was on the list, he’ll stick it in the sack, and then I’ll be off.”

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Zenos blinked at the back of his head. “Off where?”

“Back to the mountain,” Mad said. “Didn’t I tell you? I’m going to fight.”

“The dungeon break?”

The ship’s horn sounded over Mad’s reply. It was a declaration—a dramatic baritone heard across the bay—that the last steel-clad transport had arrived. Zenos stopped beside Mad at a dockside railing. It was a perch just above the jetty proper where family would wave off their loved ones.

“Alright, here’s your ticket,” Mad said and stuffed a slip of paper in Zenos’ hand. “This ship is going to… Verdona, Redum, Waynesch, or there about. It depends on the Atilonians and where they’re moving along the coast. The ticket is safe passage, as far as the Kingdom of Bastilhas is concerned, so trust in it, but only so far as you’ll trust a dead king.”

At some point Mad started explaining everything to Zenos like he was a child. It was true that Zenos was hearing everything for the first time, but he wasn’t sure what Mad thought that meant. When he looked at Mad with the Eyes of the Emperor, what he felt was basic empathy.

He doesn’t care who I am, Zenos thought as he glanced between the black-printed ticket and Mad’s smile. He just wants me to understand I’m safe.

“When you get to the mainland, try to find an Adventurer’s Guild outpost,” Mad continued. “They can help you with your eyes. Until then, if anyone asks, you’re a druid in the serpent sect. They’ll leave it at that, most of the time.”

I hadn’t said anything about my eyes and he was already planning for it.

“What if they don’t?”

Mad patted Zenos on the head. “Just find the guild quickly.”

What does this remind me of?

Mad turned Zenos around and slapped him on the back. “Go on,” he said. “Get in line, they’re about to start boarding.”

Zenos did as he was told. He got in line with the hard-faced adheimers, stood in cold, bundled in his coat like the rest. The line began to move. A tall man, maybe a little younger than Zenos was checking tickets. He was wearing a gray coat, part of a uniform with a triangular gray cap. He wasn’t a civilian.

“Cleared,” Zenos heard.

“You’re good.”

“Carry on.”

This ship will take me to the mainland, Zenos thought. And from there I can go anywhere.

Zenos looked over his shoulder and saw Mad waving. A minute later when he checked again, Mad was gone.

Anywhere at all.

It was Zenos’ turn and he stepped up to the officer.

“Ticket,” he said.

Zenos handed him the slip.

“Druid, eh?” the officer said. “I thought the guild shipped out on their own boats months ago.”

Zenos mimicked Mad’s subdued expression with a thin smile.

“Well, we won’t leave you behind.” The officer smiled at him and returned the ticket. “You’re cleared, move along.”

Zenos walked on toward the bridge. Passengers were moving one by one up a wooden board to a bulkhead opened in the ship’s side. Soldiers were observing from the jetty and the deck of the ship.

Why am I doing this? Zenos thought. I don’t have anywhere to go. I followed along behind Mad because I didn’t know what else to do. Now what happens? He walks off and dies somewhere? And what about me? Am I okay with that?

Zenos frowned, his grip tightened on his ticket slip. He had decided he was going to die before I met him. That smile he made, the smiles he made for himself, when he thought I wasn’t looking. Every time his eyes said, “Okay, it’s okay.”

“This is what I have to do.”

Why do I care about him? Zenos wondered. Why did he care about me, when he should have been thinking about himself? That idiot!

“Didn’t I make that face?” Zenos muttered aloud. “Every time I went to war. Every time I took up that sword. When we stood there together, in the light of the spire.” His voice grew louder. “Did I look like a fool to you all? When I smiled, because I said it was okay. It was okay that I couldn’t change. It was okay if it mattered in the end. I said it was okay.

“It wasn’t okay!” Zenos shouted and broke from the line, ticket crunched in his fist. He ran back down the jetty.

“Hey!” a soldier shouted.

“I’m not a damn NPC!” he shouted as he ran past.

I can change this! I’m going to change it! Zenos ran up the hill, toward the shop where Mad had left his bag. I’ll change it because I don’t want to think about his stupid face!

Zenos slammed open the Lowether’s door, panted hard. “Mad?!” he shouted.

The old man took a drag from his pipe and blew smoke over the counter. “Aren’t you going to miss your boat?” he asked.

“I can live with that,” Zenos said. “Where’s Mad?”

“Live with it, huh?” Lowether tilted his head to the left. “He’s up the hill, already got his bag. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to help him.” Zenos turned to leave.

“Wait.”

Zenos heard rustling behind Lowether’s counter and he turned to see the old man had retrieved a small backpack.

“You’ll need this,” he said. “Forest is cold this time of year, and the walk is hard. Mad only has enough food for himself, and you’ll be in the mountain awhile.”

“Why?” Zenos asked.

Lowether took a drag from his pipe. “Weren’t we thinking the same thing?” he wondered aloud. “Is it okay to let that man do what he wants?”

Tears pricked in Zenos’ eyes and he approached the counter.

“I’m old, too old to hike the mountain, and much too old to fight…” Lowether said. “But I’ve been in his shoes. I kept thinking maybe I’d go after all. Old habits and all that.”

“I want to go,” Zenos said and grabbed the bag.

Lowether kept his hand on a backpack strap. “Mad and I don’t have a choice, but you’re not involved. You can still leave this place.”

The ship’s horn sounded again, a warning that it was about to leave.

Zenos tugged the bag. “Can’t you tell?” he asked. “I’m here because I can do nothing else.”

Lowether released the bag and sunk on the stool behind his counter. “Then go,” he said. “If you’re fast, you can catch him before he reaches the trail.”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t want Mad to die alone,” Lowether said and raised a glass of amber-colored whisky from his counter. “Don’t let me down.”

Zenos ran further up the village hill, past the clockwork buildings and the wooden guild house. Mad was far ahead, sat on a stone where the cobble road petered into nature. He was panting hard, red faced, his backpack beside him.

“You missed your boat,” he said to Zenos as he watched the transport leave the jetty.

The ship’s horn sounded again.

“I guess I did,” Zenos said, panting.

“I didn’t want to turn back,” Mad said. “I was afraid I’d get on the boat until it pulled out from the bay.”

“I want to help,” Zenos said. “I want to fight.”

“You’re not even an adventurer.”

“I can become one!”

Rain drops hit the pine trees, rattled the branches around them.

“Well, it’s too late to change your mind anyway. Come on.” Mad pulled his backpack over his shoulders and started down a dirt trail. “We have a dungeon to raid.”

Zenos face brightened with a smile. A system notification had appeared to him as he ran, but he had waited to hear Mad’s reaction before he closed it.

[Hidden Quest Discovered,] it read. [The island of Adheim will be destroyed in one month. Defeat the Dungeon Lord.]

[Optional: No allies are killed.]

[Quest Accepted.]