The evening passed uneventfully, and the clouds that had been lingering remnants of last night's storm passed with the fading light.

With nothing to do, I wandered the mansion that was to be our base of operations for the time being. Though it didn't seem anybody had any particular interests to pursue during our stay.

I eventually found my way to the third floor and slipped out a window onto the roof. I wanted someplace where I could think without interruption, and the manor had enough servants bustling around that I didn't yet feel comfortable lounging in random rooms. The fresh air helped clear my thoughts as well, even as humid as it was.

I think it's finally time to stop going with the flow. There are questions I need answers to. I know that line Zeph fed me about being interested in me simply because I seemed to know some scraps of Djudirian Flow was a load of shit. He saw something else in me, something I haven't been able to place, and if he won't let me in on his designs I'll have to figure it out myself.

I need to start at the beginning. Arnstein and Alice's past is at the crux of this, so I should start there. How exactly did they come to be in the situation I found them in? According to Zak they only showed up in Hornhaven about a week before I took control, so where did they come from?

The first clue is the location. Hornhaven is a major hub of trade, could they have been stowaways from some merchant vessel or caravan?

The second clue is the abilities they possessed. Arnstein broke his soul using a barrier and Alice was proficient in illusion magic, something rare enough I haven't seen anybody else use in the time since we departed. They were both at least mildly adept at magic, which tells me they likely had a teacher. The fact Arnstein was trained in both magic and swordplay tells me they were likely from money. A magic teacher alone likely wouldn't bother teaching them both, especially at that age.

The third clue is Djudirian Flow itself. While Arim was extraordinarily well versed in a rather astonishing assortment of sword techniques, he didn't bother teaching me the history or background of many of the techniques he instilled in me. The only things I know about Djudirian Flow is that it's esoteric at best and it originates in the eastern nation of Djudiria.

We're in a city and I've been given very few restrictions. If I can find reliable sources of information then I should be able to piece together something at least.

Unfortunately, it seemed the only actionable clue was Djudirian Flow. The first step would be to learn anything I could about the nation itself. While there's no definitive proof, it stands to reason that Arnstein and Alice were likely from Djudiria if Arnstein knew a fighting style from said nation.

The second step would be to try and learn anything I could about the style itself. Initially, this seems like a rather foolish line of query, seeing as how Wald and Djudiria are quite literally on opposite sides of the world map. But things weren't exactly normal in Voset at the moment.

The overabundance of adventurers, while an issue for Andora, could be a serious boon to my search for the truth. Even if nobody knew the style itself, adventurers are well traveled enough that I'd wager there are at least a few in the city at the moment that have at least heard of it.

I sigh as I lay on the roof looking skyward. I had hoped to be able to get a good view of the stars come nightfall, but the unique quirks of Voset killed those hopes. First, the slanted nature of the city made it seem as though it rose up around me, cutting off the horizon. Even worse than that is the gargantuan jungle trees that surround the city. Their monstrously tall trunks funnel the view of the sky to a fraction of its original size.

It also seems as though Voset is a city that never sleeps. Even as the darkness of night settles in, the distant hammering of forges hasn't relented in the slightest. Gas and magic lamps line the streets and give the entire city an ambient yellow glow that stretches up into the treeline.

The effect is strikingly similar to that a city in my old world would have. I hate it. The light pollution even further drowns out the scant few stars I would have been able to see.

So much for the scenic night perch I had hoped for.

Since the view above is a lost cause I turn my attention down below. The trains of this city fascinate me. I wonder what other technological marvels these dwarves have hidden away. Andora mentioned technology to scour the ocean floor, I wonder if that implies diving gear or perhaps even sonar.

My thoughts are interrupted by a figure entering the gates of Andora's property. They hesitantly make their way past the guards before standing still along the main pathway, unsure of what to do with themselves. After a minute they find a side path that leads to a well maintained garden next to the mansion and take a seat on a bench.

Getting up from my spot, I walk over to the closest point on the roof and call down, "You know, Andora said it's fine if you stay, despite what Albatos thinks."

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Morvin barely has time to jump from the bench in surprise before I land next to him, having stepped off the roof. I briefly smile to myself, reminded of the time Zeph pulled the same trick back in Hornhaven. It was simple with reinforcement, provided you didn't try falling too far.

"Hmph. I figured, else the guards wouldn't have let me back in," He sits back down on the bench and pointedly looks in any other direction than me.

"I don't think any of the others hold nearly as much of a grudge, you know. Well, I guess the trio already knew, but me and Orelio don't particularly mind the deception. Though it does seem like the kind of thing you should have warned us about." I stare at the back of his head. Even if he won't meet my gaze I know he feels its heat.

He says nothing, and since he won't face me I can't tell why. Is it embarrassment? A sense of dissociation to us after Albatos' negative reaction?

I sigh, pacing away to look at the garden. I don't recognize any of the plants, but one sticks out to me as being seemingly out of season, its violet petals beginning to wilt.

"Sorry," He says. I wait for him to say more, but he doesn't.

Turning back I ask, "Why'd you stay? Surely you've got friends or family you could have gone to. I mean, if I were you the moment I realized what happened I would have…" I trail off, realizing I'm not actually sure what I would have done. I mean what do you do when you know an inescapable death approaches? It's something I can't even imagine.

He shakes his head, looking down at his hands now, "Don't got anywhere else to go. Family, friends…" He sighs, "I just didn't know what to do."

"You could've spent whatever money you have to make yourself comfortable at least. Instead of being dragged around battlefields and shitty jungle terrain."

He wrings his hands together, trying to formulate a response. After waiting a minute with no answer I look back to the garden.

"I was… lonely."

I don't respond, letting the weight of that answer sink in.

"I… don't know what there is to do. I don't know what I'm supposed to do or what I even want to do. It's… it's all meaningless. I just knew nothing else I did could ease the loneliness."

"You still could have told us."

He gives his hands a wry smile, "I didn't want to be pitied either."

"Well it's a bit too late for that now, isn't it?"

He nods.

I rub my hand against my temple. I'm letting my frustration get the better of me. I don't even know Morvin that well, yet it's still frustrating feeling so powerless. I take a deep breath to steady myself.

"Why did you become a sailor?" I ask.

He looks up, confused, "What?"

"Why become a sailor if you knew your own people would never accept you afterward?"

He's silent for a moment before saying, "I had a friend, years ago. He always admired the sea, said there was some mystical power beyond the waves." He looked down at his hands again, "He died before ever getting the chance to go for himself."

I wait a moment before continuing the conversation, seeing memories play out behind his expression, "How did he die?"

Morvin makes a dismissive waving gesture, "Got sick and couldn't afford treatment, didn't have access to a church neither. It wasn't a well off village, so it wan't uncommon. I guess I wanted to see for myself whether that power was real."

"And was it?"

"In most parts, no. T'was a different story in the northern stretch though. There's things out there I can't explain, wild and ancient things that lurk in the depths. All sorts of strange things bleed off that lost and cursed continent. Were out one cursed night and saw the Terror attacking a vessel through a storm."

He gives a hollow laugh, "Decided then I didn't feel like being a sailor no more. Wanted to find somewhere else to fit in. At least as a merc I'd be able to actually do something to protect myself. Going head to head with something like that, out on the open waters? Death."

He sighs, "Didn't think I'd end up like this though. You figure as a merc you die on the field, maybe not quick and painless but damn what I wouldn't give for that fate over this misery."

His words spark a memory in my mind.

The Terror. That's right, there was such a thing in the northern sea. If I line up the timeframe right…

"When did you see that, the Terror downing another ship?" I ask, with more zeal than I intended.

Surprised, he looks up from his dejected stance, "I'm not sure, sometime before the summer festival, why?"

"I need you to try and remember, how long before the festival did that happen?"

His brows furrow as he tries to remember, "A month, maybe less? I'm glad I stopped around that point because it started goin' wild after that. I think I heard it downed another four or so ships before I joined up with Zeph. What's that got to do with anything?"

That's right, there's another possibility I hadn't considered. What if Alice and Arnstein hadn't stowed or smuggled their way into the city, but were shipwrecked and made their way to the closest town they could find? The timeframe roughly matches up. I wonder if it would be possible to learn what ships were reported missing. It's not a definite lead, but it's better than nothing.

"I need your help to look into something," I say.

He eyes me suspiciously, "You know asking a dying man to help gather intel isn't a good long term strategy. I'm guessing you want to keep this on the down low?"

"It's not… essential," I say hesitantly. It seemed likely Zeph already knew whatever I could potentially dig up, but the fact he himself hadn't shared that information gave a tell to its value. "To be honest I could be grasping at straws, and it might result in nothing. Even if I do turn something up I won't promise to share my findings. Even so, you interested?"

He thinks for a moment then gives a cocky smile, the first positive look I can ever remember seeing on his face, "Hell, it sure beats waitin' around to expire. I'm in."