Instead of spending his first day with Halen going over some final checks and assurances, the two spent the time drinking. It had been too long since they had seen one another and Halen quickly assured D’Argen that he could take care of everything without the runner’s help. As such, when D’Argen was woken up very early the following morning, it was to Nocipel glaring down at him with hands on his hips. D’Argen groaned but nodded even when he was not told anything.
D’Argen ran to the village atop the cliff and found Vesta. He used his mahee to run the woman, a few of her workers, and all of their supplies back down to the beach and to Nocipel. He then spent the rest of the day hiding from the bright light and Nocipel’s unnecessary orders. As easy as it would have been to consume the sound of his voice, Nocipel was clearly not in a good mood and D’Argen preferred to avoid him.
His second night ended much the same as the first, though this time Halen introduced him to a few of the mortal workers and they all gathered in one of the bigger log cabins to hide from Nocipel and drink. It was during this night though that Lear, one of the mortal women in charge of the ship construction, argued with Halen. She won the argument simply because Halen had passed out from drinking a glass every time she interrupted him.
D’Argen had joined him into unconsciousness shortly after because he had not understood most of the terms they used and had gotten bored. Who even cared that their ship was clinker-built? What did that even mean?
On his third day there, Vesta put D’Argen to work. D’Argen was glad for the reprieve from the alcohol because no matter how much he drank, he thought of Lilian’s anger with him that he was not there to make them feel better. A few more days and he would find out how awkward and tense their trip north would be.
D’Argen, as he had stated multiple times to anybody willing to listen, was not an artist. The rabbit he had tried to draw looked more like a chicken that belonged under Acela’s knife for dinner. Luckily for him, the only one who was witness to his atrocities was Vesta and the woman quickly carved a beautiful scene to get rid of the paint and then added her own layers to create detailed trees with birds bursting from their branches. D’Argen proudly claimed that spot as his own. She told him she painted the trees in red and the birds in gold since those were the colours most associated with Kassar, God of Luck.
D'Argen was glad to hear he was not the only one who doubted the ship would do them much good. And if Kassar were one of the Never Born coming with them, maybe the strange construct would actually stay together and get them to where they wanted to go.
The first of their travel party arrived later that evening just as the sun was setting. Lilian, Yaling, and Abbot were accompanied by two dozen mortals, all riding horses and bears and pulling heavy carts along. D’Argen had no idea where all of those supplies would go on the ship and could not wait to complain about it with Lilian. If they allowed it.
When he went up to greet the party, Yaling started directing the supplies to be unloaded. From her shouting, D’Argen realized that the supplies and most of the mortals were not for their trip but for the tiny new village instead. He did not let that distract him too much though and walked right up to Lilian, hesitating a few steps away and stopping.
Lilian took one look at D’Argen, rolled their eyes, and then pulled him in for a hug that felt like a benediction. D’Argen sent Abbot off to meet with Halen and keep him company as he got drunk with the mortals yet again. Yaling disappeared among the crowd and would most likely find her way there instead. Instead of joining them and bringing Lilian along, D’Argen dragged them for a walk along the cold beach, keeping one of Lilian’s hands in his own with their fingers laced loosely together.
“You know I’m sorry, right?” D’Argen asked into the quiet night air.
Lilian hummed in reply but said nothing.
“And I am,” D’Argen tacked on. “Consider this my formal apology. I acted like a child and brought attention to you when it was not needed nor wanted, in order to try and scratch some invisible itch in my hindbrain to make myself feel better.”
“Oh? So that is why you did it?” Lilian asked with a mocking tone.
“Well, one of the reasons. I’d prefer not to share the others.”
“A loose tongue from too much drink?”
“If I claim that one, you have to be the one apologizing since you were the one refilling my glass before I even came close to finishing it before dinner.”
Lilian scoffed but nodded.
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“No. I am truly sorry, Lilian.”
“Apology accepted. Long ago, actually. I just wanted to make you sweat.”
“You are so mean, sometimes!”
Lilian grinned at him from over their shoulder.
“And umm…” D’Argen hesitated as he tried to bring up the original subject.
“I do not want to talk about it,” Lilian said before he could put his thoughts in order. “I promise you, I will. Soon, even. But not right now. The night is too chilly though, so let us go back to the others.”
D’Argen nodded, squeezed Lilian’s fingers between his own, and they both turned around to make it back to the new village.
A few days later arrived the last of their party, Thar and Haur accompanied by Kassar. Along with the three Never Born were a dozen mortals. The supplies this time were a lot less and they were immediately loaded onto the ship under the constructed tent and inside hidden compartments that weighed the ship down even more.
D’Argen watched it all with narrowed eyes but did not join the conversation as Nocipel started explaining the changes done to the ship to Haur. The two stood beside the large construct and circled it a few times before climbing aboard and checking that the latches for the supplies were secure.
When the two finally came down, Haur announced “two days”.
D’Argen nodded along with the others. That night, there was a full-on party outside of the log cabins, music joining the alcohol and multiple fire pits burning. D’Argen jumped from one pit to another, enjoying the combination of drink and stories shared between friends that left them all in good spirits and drinking late into the night.
When D’Argen started feeling the alcohol too strongly but decided against succumbing to the sweet call of sleep, he decided the cool air away from the dancing and singing could help him clear his head. He walked the beach until he reached where snow still clung to the sand. Then further, until the walls of the White Cliffs were within reach as he walked beside them. Then further until the waves reached his feet as he walked with one hand grazing the white stones. Then he walked further until his shoulder was brushing the cliff to keep his boots dry. Then he walked further until the icy water reached his knees.
Throughout his entire walk, he stared at the stone, the snow, the rocks, and the water. He spent the most time staring at the clouds in the sky though. The moon was full, though he only knew she was there when her brightness broke through the thinner clouds. He slipped too many times to count, but the white rock was his support when he did. And the cold air on his face and the freezing water at his feet woke his brain as if he had slept away the alcohol. He only stopped walking when the water got deep enough to try to drag him out with the tide. He turned around when his shivering made him trip and fall up to his neck in the water.
Lilian probably had that horrible tea with them that would warm his bones and chase away the chill.
As he came back to the building that held the ship, he noticed a lone figure sitting on the deck. He easily recognized the long white hair that matched the equally white robes Thar favoured.
“Are you ready to set out?” D’Argen asked from the ground. Although his head was finally clear, he did not trust his shivering and frozen legs to help him get on the deck safely.
Thar hummed without looking back at him and D’Argen could only assume it was an affirmative.
“Are you excited?”
No hum came back this time. D’Argen ignored the lack of response and instead asked, “Can you imagine? A whole new land?”
“You have seen most lands when they were new.”
“Yes, but not in thousands of years. This is exciting!”
Once again, Thar only hummed in response but D’Argen had no clue what the sound was supposed to mean.
After a long silence that started to feel awkward, Thar asked, “What more is there?”
D’Argen squawked out a, “what?”, unable to hide his surprise at the question.
“Never mind.” Thar suddenly rose. He turned around and jumped off the ship onto the sand swiftly. Only then did he seem to notice that D’Argen was shivering, his robes already frozen stiff.
“Come.”
D’Argen followed the order obediently, walking stiffly behind the other. His legs were hurting something fierce with pins shooting through every muscle and his robes were so stiff, it felt like was wearing a skirt made of ice.
Thar led him inside one of the cabins. There were five bodies sprawled around the small firepit inside the cabin and D’Argen recognized Abbot and Lilian among them. No Abbot or other Never Born though. Thar ignored them and leaned down to stoke the dying embers. Without prompting, D’Argen slowly lowered himself to the floor near the fire as Thar rummaged through Lilian’s bags. Lilian did not stir at all. He found their loose herbs, the tea that D’Argen had been thinking about earlier, and went to brewing a cup for D’Argen.
While the water was heating, Thar looked through a large chest against the wall. He returned shortly after with thick furs in that specific shade of grey that revealed them to be dyed blue – they must have belonged to D’Argen. The runner wondered for a moment when his clothes got into that chest and when Thar found out about it.
“Take it off.”
D’Argen was too stiff to obey that order, feeling the fire slowly softening the frozen cloth and bringing even more pain to his legs. After a while of no action, Thar kneeled beside him and started undoing the leathers at his forearms. D’Argen let himself be led around like a doll until he was lifted under the arms. Without much fanfare, Thar took off his robes and wrapped him up in the thick blue furs. He then directed D’Argen to sit back in front of the fire. His tea was ready by then and the wooden cup was hot between his hands when Thar gave it to him.
“Finish that and then sleep,” Thar ordered, added some wood to the fire, and left the cabin.
The entire encounter seemed strange. D’Argen breathed in the steam of the tea and let out a sigh.
“You know he likes you, right?” Lilian’s voice startled D’Argen but he was still too frozen to flinch and spill his tea. Then the words registered and D’Argen felt a heat come from inside him to try and chase away the last of the ice.
“Whatever. Sleep,” he grumbled. Lilian, thankfully, remained silent until D’Argen fell asleep.