“You’re curious, aren’t you? If I’ve healed?” Vermolly challenged, inflating her throat pouch to reveal a scar. “I haven’t,” she said, her voice disappointed.

Bolton nodded slightly. Vermolly inflated her throat pouch, slightly hovering over Bolton’s hands. She struggled to maintain the pouch's inflation, slowly falling into a sudden plummet.

"I'm not a New Dwardian Iron Medic, but at least I can save a life," Bolton said as he caught Vermolly mid-fall. “Could’ve done better, though,” he admitted with guilt. He examined her throat pouch with a halfhearted, pain-filled smile, recalling the day he had rescued Vermolly. "Not so different from working on machines and doing surgery," he remarked sarcastically, meeting Vermolly's pouted expression.

"Wouldn't be here if you didn't try. Plus, my pouch works well enough to help you run your makeshift shop," Vermolly said, comforting Bolton.

"Last I checked, we both run that. Don’t you dare give me more responsibility than I need," Bolton affirmed gently, cradling Vermolly on his shoulder.

Suddenly, the Gale Frogs sprang to life on Bolton’s head, their slimy feet shuffling before they began croaking rhythmically. At the same time, the second firework exploded, sending sparks of green raining throughout Whistletop Alley, giving it a mysterious green allure.

"Ah, well... looks like you can speak frog," Vermolly remarked. “They seem to be reacting to the wind conditions.”

“Which are?” Bolton wondered.

“Good enough,” Vermolly replied.

“So not the firework?” Bolton inquired sarcastically.

“Fraid’ not,” Vermolly joked back. “Look at ’em, they appear to be croaking in the direction of the howling gales.”

With a sense of order and urgency, the Gale Frogs seemingly instinctively made their descent down Bolton's form. They gripped his wavy hair like nimble climbers, then sprang from his ears to his shoulders before leaping into the swirling winds that enveloped the surrounding buildings.

“Observe how they shoot air from between their webbed appendages even as they walk. Remind you of something?” Vermolly said, following closely behind the last Gale Frog in line.

Bolton nodded, continuing to watch the Gale Frogs closely. They approached the edge of his extended arm, jumping one by one into the wind with great confidence. In the air, their pouches inflated as they blew reflective bubbles, suspending them in a mesmerizing swirling dance.

“The Airshoes? That’s where you got the idea?” Bolton suddenly realized, grabbing the harness hidden under his jacket. His shoes, originally designed for use in a bog, were repurposed for bursts of air. His gloves, made of leather and metal, could release powerful blasts of air from compartments attached to his legs. His jacket, in turn, acted like a parachute.

“I’m certain we agreed on calling them Vapor Jets. You’ve been using them for about a month now,” Vermolly replied, perched on Bolton’s finger. “You’ve done well to navigate with them so efficiently. However, I’ve yet to perfect them. They cannot carry much fuel, likely just enough for a handful of escapes.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” chuckled Bolton. “You don’t seem to let me.”

“I’ve been around you long enough to know that it doesn’t take an airship to have your thoughts in the clouds,” Vermolly said, placing her eyes in front of Bolton’s.

“Tell me this, Vermolly…” Bolton gently placed Vermolly on the brim of his hat. “How do these little critters know where they’re going?”

“Their instinct overpowers their fear. There are things in life more powerful than immediate danger. More important. Perhaps you can learn from the Gale Frogs,” Vermolly replied.

"They eventually find their way back to the sewers, which in turn leads to their pond and far from the clamor of exotic animal vendors."

Vermolly reclined on the brim of Bolton's helmet, her legs swinging gently as she observed the Gale Frogs vanishing into the night. With a gentle hand, Bolton guided her back beneath his hat. But not before she took one last glance toward the skyline, then nestled comfortably once more.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Let’s get movin’, Vermolly. Truth be told, it scares me that I know nothing of what the rest of this day looks like, but then again, it’s also far more exciting. Maybe that’s what the lil’ guys feel?” Bolton mused aloud. “Anyway, there goes the third firework,” he mumbled, carefully hiding in the shadows of the Akiyoma.

"Now, where was I supposed to meet this… sewer fellow?" he pondered, refocusing on his task. Tapping his lips thoughtfully, he reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a crumpled note with instructions for the rendezvous: a hidden sewer entrance near the revered Akiyoma Statue, depicted in a crude sketch featuring an Alchemian perched atop a towering Giant.

"Dear Bolton,

Hurd you've been a sniffin' around for a way through the tunnels. That! Ain’t! EASY! Also, some scary ol’ guy has been sniffin’ all over Quadrant Thirteen for ya too. Says he’s from the capital and “doesn’t have much time!” or somethin. Don’ nobody have time! Any which way, everyone's got a bleedin' interest in gettin' through 'em tunnels lately! What's lurkin' down there, that's got folks so far wedged in their own streaker? Well, ya done me a solid fixin' up me motor when it was on its last legs and didn't blab to the local scrappers, so I reckon it's time to repay the favor. Don’t get caught. (Flip the note, I ranna outta space)

Got me, cousin, Occilo. Runs a cheeky li’ operation down under. Underneath Quadrants One, Two, and Eight, that is. Pay him a visit near that Akiyoma Airship replica. Meet him ova’ the sewa’ hole with the fancy drawin’s of the frog people and Giants. Ya’ think they might want to take their ol’ stomping grounds back someday? Anyway, the lad might sort you out proper. Or he might just end up gettin' you snuffed out. There's a reason he's down there, and I'm up here.

Oh and next time you're around for a fixin’, please do that. I may or may not have crashed into your garage door again.

With regards,

Selton Fox

PS: Bout’ Midnight. I’m told a purple firework -colorblind ya know-, greenlight and purple light, and Big Star Finish. Bout’ 2 minutes between each. That’s always been the signal.

“The man signed his name yet doesn’t want to be caught? Colorblind too…” chuckled Bolton, crumpling the note and sliding it back into his coat pocket, his mind already focused on the task.

Guided by whispers from his informant, Bolton set off to locate the elusive Occilo, a man renowned for his mastery of the intricate sewer networks beneath New Dwarden. He combed the monument's base, scanning for any sign of the manhole. Carefully, he crouched and stuck to the shadows under the Akiyoma until he spotted one that matched the description in the letter. The manhole lay just beneath the ship's hull, to the left of its informational plaque.

Before setting out on foot, Bolton paused for a moment of respite, casting a cautious glance around him from the shelter of the monument's shadow. An eerie emptiness filled the typically bustling Akiyoma Square, a stark departure from its usual lively ambiance. The square lay deserted tonight, its tables and podiums left unattended in anticipation of an upcoming gathering. Despite the stillness, Bolton remained vigilant, his gaze flickering warily towards the circular windows of the surrounding buildings. He noticed the occasional Clinker patrolling, blinking their long beams of light in his direction, and the occasional drunk passerby, but none ventured toward the center of Akiyoma Square.

"I don’t mean to interrupt your mission, Bolton, but the closer you get to the Primarian Royale, the less likely you'll be to dodge those Clinkers unscathed," cautioned Vermolly from beneath his hat, her voice soft yet urgent. “Try staying in the shadows whenever possible.”

“My brother’s robots have their flaws. They can’t be everywhere, Vermolly. Besides, I have full faith in your… Vap-va,” replied Bolton, his voice also soft and quiet.

“Come now. It’s the moniker you came up with,” teased Vermolly.

"Vaporjet Harness," echoed both Bolton and Vermolly in unison. "Alright, alright," chuckled Bolton. "You built it, so you’ve got more of a duty to remember it," he added playfully, his eyes twinkling beneath the brim of his large brown bowler hat.

“Well, I agree the Clinkers can’t be everywhere, but unless humans have some skill I’m unaware of, neither can you. More so, an over-reliance on the—” Vermolly began before Bolton interrupted.

“The Vapor Jet Harness!” Bolton interjected.

"Yes!" Vermolly replied happily. "An over-reliance is dangerous. The invention itself is not optimized. We'll see where this passionate spirit gets you once we’re back at the shop. For now, steer clear of the Clinkers so we may have the chance to begin breakin’ rules," snarked Vermolly under her breath.

"We're not getting’ caught. Probably," whispered Bolton playfully. "Besides, Primarian Royale or not, my brother nor New Dwarden can argue with a bright glowing blue gem," he trailed off with uncertainty.

"Let us hope that is a suitable defense in court," replied Vermolly, her voice disappearing into the sound of loud star-shaped fire-work above.

Before Bolton could utter another word, a large, looming shadow fell over them. Moments earlier, he had sensed a change in the air, a faint rustling noise that made his heart race. He turned, his breath catching as he saw a towering figure emerge from the darkness of the Akiyoma, jumping down from the ship’s mast. A humanoid creature that wore a patchwork of dark armor, adorned with mechanical enhancements that hissed and rattled with each step. It’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous intensity while his chest pounded with the sound of powerful pistons.