“Ow! Now, before we willingly… Dammit! Relax... break one of the king’s most sacred rules," he winced, a painful grin spreading across his face. "You can-" His youthful voice broke the stillness, accompanied by bursts of fireworks overhead, prompting a swift reply from Vermolly.

A gentle, croaky voice emerged from beneath the brim of Bolton's brown bowler hat. "You can stand to be more patient! And by the powers of earth and sea," Vermolly gasped, "may Yerro bless me with a touch of cool air. Unlike a frog, I cannot endure this warmth for long." Amidst the crackling excitement, a small webbed green hand emerged from beneath the hat, lifting it slightly to reveal eight additional pairs of luminous yellow eyes blinking rapidly. Each eye boasted uniquely colorful slit irises surrounded by mesmerizing rotating patterns.

Among the nine creatures nestled within Bolton’s hat, Vermolly, a pocket-sized Alchemian, crawled out and dangled proudly in front of Bolton's face. Her webbed fingers easily gripped the rim of his fur-felt bowler hat.

“I’m afraid the Greisha ceremony is something you are compelled to respect,” Vermolly added with a smirk. “We Alchemians abide by less divisive customs.”

Vermolly often reminded Bolton that Alchemians are a species of frog-like creatures, a mix of salamander and bullfrog. They possess human characteristics such as standing on two legs, speaking various languages, and their famous alchemy—concoctions brewed from their often corrosive throat fluids. More importantly to Bolton, they are easy to carry, a convenient trait if one should befriend you.

“Spend one day in my thoughts, Vermolly. I’d be willing to bet the average Alchemian wouldn’t know an ocean from pond water, let alone be attuned to the entire human race,” laughed Bolton.

“Let’s hear it, ‘pond water’. Did she remind you of her?” Vermolly prodded. She reached her tiny hands toward Bolton’s nose and tapped it playfully until she crinkled it. Bolton was ready to sneeze before gently swatting her small, sticky hands away.

“Who?” Bolton responded coyly, his cheeks reddening.

“I don’t need to tap into an Alchemian collective to see that she did,” Vermolly replied, lightly teasing Bolton. “I could feel your heart rate gush from the top of your head. Your cheeks are still warm.”

“It wasn’t going to work out,” Bolton muttered defeatedly.

“What’s not?” Vermolly prodded. She perched on Bolton’s right shoulder, observing the world seemingly spin around Bolton as he gestured animatedly.

“I’m…so…. SO OUT HERE,” replied Bolton, splaying his hands outwards toward the city. “And she’s so in there,” he continued, pointing to his heart. “I know it sounds stupid but it’s all I got. It would be like having a wolf kiss a hare.”

“Why limit yourself to two schools of thought?” wondered Vermolly aloud. “...and I take it you’re the tough wolf?” she asked, playfully pushing against Bolton’s cheek.

“Sure ain’t the hare,” replied Bolton confidently yet playfully. “She’s scared of the world. I’m not. I want to whisk her away. She doesn’t want to go,” he continued softly, his voice trailing off. “When we’re together, it’s like our eyes burn bright together. But adventure appears to only call for me…”

“Maybe she isn’t ready. Matters of the soul are like seeds. If we focus on growth, who knows what you both might become? Friends, best friends, lovers—it doesn’t matter when the future is unknown. The best thing we can do is love all the same. Pursue your ambitions and let growth come to you,” Vermolly consoled, gently removing her hand from Bolton’s cheek. “She’ll come if it’s her path. Otherwise, look forward, like you humans usually do.”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“You know…I was hesitant to leave the shop today. To come out here and risk it all over a fancy letter,” Bolton said softly. “How did that ol’ guy even know where I was?”

“Sounds like you regret snatching the letter from his satchel,” Vermolly accused. “Coulda been useful having him around.”

Vermolly watched as Bolton’s gaze meandered toward the restaurant, watching it longingly. She positioned herself in front of him, her large eyes meeting his.

“The letter. The king is ‘risking it all’ just meeting with you. Soul Rot is what waits beyond breaching the Greisha Ceremony,” Vermolly explained in an understanding tone. “Likely to be of the utmost importance.”

“Don’t trust royalty. Unless it’s my brother himself, I’m not dealin’ with them. Everything feels wrong. My brother and I aren’t ever to communicate again—that’s the condition of that stupid ceremony. As far as I know, the letter still counts,” Bolton explained, his voice tinged with anxiety.

“And your older sister?” wondered Vermolly.

“Amelia? Last I heard, she went toward Quadrant Seven. Five years ago.” Bolton replied, his hand pointing behind him. “She and I were close.”

“Were?” Inquired Vermolly.

“I got nothin’ against her. She just disappeared ya know? Straight into the crowd and…that’s the last I saw her.” Lamented Bolton, looking toward a pocket watch hanging from his jacket pocket. “She was good to me.”

Bolton opened his golden pocket watch with a satisfying crack, revealing a blue gem embedded within. On the opposite side was a small black-and-white picture of three children under the former King Woltwork and Queen Woltwork. Vermolly observed the photo with a fond smile. Alchemian. Vermolly examined each child individually.

Amelia smiled with missing teeth, flashing a peace sign as she cuddled next to her mother. Michael—the current king—stood regal and unsmiling beside his father. Bolton, meanwhile, lifted his dress shirt to reveal a toy airplane underneath, his shirt stained with food that had escaped his parents' notice.

“You don’t change, do you?” Vermolly observed.

“Neither does my brother. He’s never been one to take risks. I can’t help but be curious about what this is about,” Bolton pondered, perching his chin on his hand as he dangled his feet over the crow’s nest.

“So, let’s meet this sewer boy mentioned in that other letter and get back to our humble garage?” Vermolly suggested. “Our humble beginnings.”

“It was more like a note on a crumpled napkin, but we shouldn’t waste more time,” Bolton agreed with a quick smirk. “The signal’s about to go off anyway.” His eyes shone with confidence as he surveyed the ship.

With renewed determination, Bolton stood up, looking skyward. He fixed his suspenders and gently scooped Vermolly onto his palm, tucking her back under his cap. Ready to explore the Akiyoma, Bolton set off with a confident stride, anticipating new adventures rejuvenating his steps.

A surge of excitement coursed through Bolton at the thought of taking the helm of an airship rather than just tinkering with its components. With practiced ease, he descended the side of the monument using a sturdy rope attached to a large anchor. Before he could further explore the airship, a peculiar sensation came from his front pocket where his pocket watch sat. Grabbing the watch, he watched it vibrate with a blue gleam emanating from within. "That’s never happened," he muttered, shaking off the distraction. “What did you do, Michael?” Bolton opened his pocket watch to reveal a strong blue light from the embedded gem before putting it away in a panic. “Something to address…later,” he thought nervously.

“This whole thing’s one big attraction now,” mumbled Bolton in disbelief. “Better get moving if I’m going to make it,” he said, glancing toward the highlighted exit sign near the ship’s mast.

As Bolton crossed the slanted deck, he admired the ship's large, intricately carved helm. Some images depicted Alchemians like Vermolly surfing the stars, while others featured Gale Whales soaring among the clouds—creatures said to hold a city on their backs while remaining light as a feather. The helm's centerpiece bore a bold motto: "The Akiyoma Airship! First to brave distant horizons unscathed! First to return without a loss or mishap! First to shield New Dwarden from its adversaries!"