When I woke up, something felt different, but it took me a minute to figure out what; I didn’t feel the engine’s vibration. When I went to the saloon, I glanced out the window and saw that we were in a marina, which completely confused me. I saw Mahya sitting on the boat’s front deck, approached her, and asked, “Where are we?”
“Yakushima.”
“How? I can’t possibly have slept for five days!” I exclaimed.
“No, you slept four or five hours.”
“So, how did we get here? According to our calculations, it should have taken us five or six days.”
“When we did the calculations, we based it only on sails, knowing we wouldn’t always have the right wind, and use the engine only to enter and leave a marina. With the new engine, we sail with it non-stop, and I don’t know what you did to the boat at night, but it is even faster,” she explained, looking proud.
“What is our speed?” I asked, leaning against the railing.
“I can’t gauge it because of mana interference, but I estimate we were traveling at around twenty-five knots yesterday, increasing to twenty-seven knots. We can reach thirty knots if we go all out on the engine. Eventually, the wind will cooperate, and we might go even faster,” she said, gesturing towards the horizon.
I looked at her with wide eyes. This was the speed of a large cruise ship, not a small sailboat.
“Why are you so surprised? Did I not say that my baby was perfect? I’m considering renaming her ‘Wave Dancer.’ She needs a name that captures how amazing she is,” Mahya declared, patting the deck of the boat affectionately.
“I’m totally on board with changing the name. ‘Dixie Doodle’ sounds ridiculous,” I said with a laugh. “If we’re going that fast, we can do some sightseeing in Yakushima and even sail through Guam to check the Gate there. On second thought, we could hop and visit a few islands along the way.”
“Do we have time for that? There’s a Traveler on his way to Las Vegas,” she reminded me.
“Once we make landfall, I shall consult the mystical Google Maps to chart our course,” I said, mimicking a dramatic pose. She laughed and gave me a thumbs-up.
When we got off the boat, I found a lovely cafe close to the marina, opened my computer, and started doing calculations.
“Let’s see, the Traveler will set sail in nineteen days, and the voyage will last ten days. Twenty-nine days in total. Because he won’t fly, reaching Vegas will take ten more days. That gives us thirty-nine days. Add one day for unforeseen delays—our time frame is forty days,” I muttered, typing furiously.
I searched for exciting islands with a stop in Guam to visit the Gate and started calculating distances and sailing speed.
Okay, one knot is 1.852 km/h, so 27 knots are 50 km/h. Chichi-Jima is 1,186 kilometers away, so it takes about 24 hours—one day off the total. The distance from Chichi-Jima to Guam is 1,523 kilometers, so that will take us a day and a half. Let’s say two days to be on the safe side. We’re down to thirty-seven days. From Guam to Micronesia, it’s 1,500 kilometers, so it takes about thirty hours—two days—to be safe. We have thirty-five days left. From Micronesia to the Marshall Islands, it’s 1,000 kilometers, so twenty hours—a full day. We have thirty-four days left. From the Marshall Islands to Honolulu in Hawaii, it’s 3,900 kilometers, so 78–80 hours, or three days and a bit. Let’s say four days. We have thirty-one days left. From Hawaii to California, it’s 4,100 kilometers, so about eighty-five hours, or three and a half days—say, four days. One more day to get to Vegas leaves us 26 days to explore the islands. And if we delay a little, it’s not a big deal.
Looking at the numbers, I was in awe. She shortened a four-to-six-week voyage to two weeks, with islands in between, not direct sailing. Mahya wasn’t just an artist but a Magitech wizard. To say that I was deeply impressed would be an understatement; it didn’t even come close to describing what I felt. My admiration for her grew to new heights.
We still had to practice with the hot-air balloon, and the sea was the perfect place for it, so I subtracted two days. That left us twenty-four days to explore the islands.
Hawaii deserved at least a week, so that left us seventeen days. Two days in Yakushima, two days in Chichi-Jima, and at least three days in Guam. Seven days, which leaves us ten days to visit other islands. I did a Google search for “Top Things to See in the Northern Mariana Islands” and added Rota Island to the list, along with a visit to Pinatang Park. The other things sounded lovely, but we didn’t have enough time to explore all the islands.
Subtracting two days from the total for Rota Island, I did a Google search for “Top Things to See in Micronesia.” The island of Pohnpei sounded terrific and fun, so I gave it three days. It sounded like the most fun of all the options I found.
After searching for “Top Things to See in the Marshall Islands,” I added Arno Atoll and Jaluit to the list, allocating five days for it.
I presented the list to Mahya and Alfonsen. Her reaction was, “Great, that sounds fun.” He remarked, “You are well aware of what is desirable.” I must admit that it was nice to be trusted. It was also a pleasant change from negotiating with Lis, although he was right about the need for speed because of the rising mana levels.
We spent the afternoon near the marina and slept in the hotel instead of on the boat. We all needed to stretch our legs and experience a space larger than thirty meters. The following day, we visited the island and saw the main points of interest. We had fun exploring Yakusugi Land, hiking among the ancient cedar trees, and taking in the beauty of Okonotaki Waterfall. In the evening, we enjoyed a fancy dinner at Shiosai with delicious fish dishes. We slept on the boat that night, anticipating an early morning departure.
Mahya took the helm and reminded me I needed to study the book Lis recommended on mana control to prepare for rescuing the Traveler. I sat on the back deck and started reading. Alfonsen sat next to me, and I felt he was constantly fidgeting. I looked at him; he tilted his head this way and that, shook his head, frowned, drummed his fingers on his knee, looked thoughtful, sighed, and once again shook his head. It looked like he was having a deep discussion with himself.
“Is something bothering you?” I asked him.
“I am currently deliberating on whether my father should father another child,” Alfonsen replied.
This guy was making no sense. It wasn’t the first time I didn’t understand him. I raised an eyebrow and leaned in closer. “Isn’t it your dad’s call, not yours?”
“Under those conditions, the ultimate decision lies in my hands.”
“I don’t understand,” I admitted, shaking my head slightly.
“The details of our family history are rather intricate, and I’d prefer not to bore you with them.”
“We still have a whole day until we reach Chichi-Jima. I can handle some boring stuff,” I said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.
“Our family’s ancestral roots do not lie in Leylos. Rather, we originate from a very high mana world, hence our dual-mana system. Roughly two thousand years ago, one of my forefathers, an accomplished Traveler, embarked on a search for a suitable place to establish roots. Upon his arrival in Leylos, he developed a liking for that world. After an extended exploration period, he discovered an unclaimed wilderness region with numerous dungeons. In lieu of clearing the dungeons and obtaining the cores, he established defensive measures adjacent to the dungeons and commenced charging an admission fee. This laid the foundation for the kingdom of Mirbit,” Alfonsen explained, sounding bitter and frustrated.
“As a result, my family established a custom in which the chosen heir sets off to travel for a maximum of ten years, considering the time leaps, and returns to Leylos with newfound wealth and knowledge before taking on the royal position. A male heir is required to ensure the continuation of the Gate Traveler’s abilities.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
“There have been multiple occurrences throughout history where the heir to the throne left and decided against returning. If this happens, the king must ensure the birth of another male child who will serve as the rightful heir to the throne.
“Two of my brothers remain unfamiliar to me, with one being approximately ninety years my senior and the other approximately thirty-five years my senior. Despite being the designated heirs to the throne, they opted against returning. Once this situation arose, the guidance promptly notified my father that he no longer had an heir, compelling him to resume his efforts to conceive a male child. At this moment, I find myself deliberating whether to go back or renounce my heir title, opting instead to embark on further journeys,” Alfonsen finished, his expression conflicted.
“Have you tried making a list?”
“A list?” he echoed, looking puzzled.
“Write all the advantages and disadvantages. Not just for you but also for your father and your kingdom. See what is best for all parties.”
“Can you help me?”
“Yeah, sure,” I replied with a reassuring smile. I grabbed a pen and paper, divided it in half, and prompted him, “Let’s begin with the pros.”
“The respite from the weight of responsibility on my shoulders, which occasionally feels like a crushing force,” Alfonsen began, his shoulders relaxing slightly.
I wrote, “No more burden of responsibility,” and asked, “What else?”
“I won’t have to tolerate the environment within the palace,” he said, a look of distaste crossing his face.
“What’s wrong with the atmosphere in the palace?”
“My father has five wives–”
Shocked, I interrupted and asked, “Five! How does he manage that?!”
“He is not. Moreover, I am part of a family with seven sisters who have taken sides, leading to a silent guerrilla warlike ambiance within the palace. It is depressing,” Alfonsen explained, his voice heavy with resignation.
“How’s your dad handling it?”
“His facade of obliviousness masks a calculated retreat. He deftly conjures urgent kingdom matters when embroiled in their disputes, disappearing for weeks at a time,” Alfonsen said, shaking his head in frustration.
“Sounds awful,” I muttered, feeling a pang of sympathy.
“The depths of its horror elude imagination. Additionally, opposing their perspectives incurs severe disapproval, deepening the existing divide within the family,” he continued, his expression grim.
I shuddered just thinking about it. That sounded horrible!
I wrote, “An end to the guerrilla war.”
“What else?”
“I will have the opportunity to indulge in my physical needs without the continuous obligation to secure an heir and constant reminders about propriety,” he said, his tone softening slightly.
I wrote, “Freedom to explore sexuality,” and looked up at him.
“You do not care?” he asked, his eyes searching mine.
“No, I couldn’t care less,” I replied with a shrug.
“You are a good man, John.”
“Thanks, you’re not bad yourself—when you get that stick out of your ass,” I said with a grin.
He started laughing loudly, and it took him a few minutes to calm down.
“What else?” I asked, enjoying the lighter mood.
He wiped away tears and said, “I can truly pursue my interests rather than tradition and constraints.”
I wrote, “Freedom to pursue interests.” “What else?” I prompted.
“See the universe, not just what I can manage in a few years.”
I wrote, “See the worlds.” “What else?” I asked, noting the growing enthusiasm in his voice.
“Progress at my pace, without constant pressure to collect as many Trait points as possible, because it will be much more difficult after that.”
I wrote, “Take your time.” “What else?”
“I think that is all.”
“Okay, how will this decision benefit your father or your kingdom?”
“Maybe my father will finally take care of the situation at home and stop ignoring it. And the kingdom will benefit from someone who wants to be king and does not see it as a burden or a punishment.”
I wrote, “Daddy faces the mess at home. A kingdom gets a beneficial king.” “Anything else?” I asked.
“No, that is all,” he said, nodding.
“So, now we’ll move on to the cons. What considerations do you have against this decision?”
He started counting on his fingers. “It is my duty. I promised to return. If I decide not to return, I will lose my [Monarch (in training)] class.”
“Let’s put the duty and the promise aside for a moment. What happens if you lose the [Monarch (in training)] class?”
“I’ll lose all the progress points I’ve earned.”
“How many points are we talking about?”
“Each level of the class grants seven points, and I am currently at level three. Instead of allocating the points, I converted them into ability points. I reserved three, allocating one for the Mana Shield spell purchase. Renouncing the class will result in losing those points, but it is not a problem with workshops. Nonetheless, there is a possibility of forfeiting the Mana Shield spell, which could potentially be interpreted by the Guidance as spell conversion and subsequently prevent its reacquisition,” Alfonsen explained, his expression serious.
“You’re a Heavy Warrior, right?” I asked, remembering our previous conversation on the subject.
“Yes.”
“I remember Lis and Mahya talking about a stone shield, stone armor, or something like that. Mahya didn’t want to buy it because she depends on her Agility, but for you, it could be an excellent substitute.”
His eyes became unfocused, and after a few minutes, he exclaimed, “Here it is. I believe it will be effective. Although it reduces Agility by five points, I can compensate by converting an ability point into five Trait points and adding them to Agility to maintain equilibrium.”
“Excellent. So, I’m not adding it to the list, am I?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“What other reasons do you have against it?” I asked, returning to the list.
“My father will have to deal with the situation at home alone,” he said, sounding guilty.
“Here, I don’t think you’re right. It’s not your responsibility to deal with it; it’s his. He created this situation, and you were the victim of it. I don’t think you should feel obligated to deal with it.”
He sighed and said, “I know. He said he trusted me to be crowned to free him up for his wives.”
“That’s unfair. There’s always a way to make time. He seems to avoid facing the situation and comes up with excuses. Do you foresee any negative impact on your kingdom if you choose not to return?”
“Maybe my new brother will be against the idea even more than I am,” he admitted, looking down.
“That’s his problem, not yours. A kingdom can often benefit from a king who doesn’t want to rule. According to history, kings who wanted to rule usually desired more and more power. Someone who doesn’t want to rule is usually more relaxed. Anything else?”
He took a deep breath and released it in a whoosh. “It feels profoundly unfair. My ancestor traveled for over 300 years before settling in Leylos. He epitomized the spirit of a Traveler as he ventured into the vast expanse of the universe. As his descendants, we are now constrained with the duty of tending to a kingdom that holds no appeal for us, impeding our ability to explore freely.”
He grabbed his hair in two fists and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “He had the freedom to roam, to discover new worlds, to live a life unburdened by the constraints of duty. By choosing his own path, he carved out his destiny. And yet, because of his final decision to settle and establish this kingdom, we are now chained to a legacy that limits us.”
He got up and clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. “Every day, I feel the weight of expectations pressing down on me, the endless responsibilities, the constant surveillance. I need to account for every action, for every word. Should I display even a hint of a smile towards a man, he promptly disappears from the palace, never to be seen again. The frustration gnaws at me, knowing I could be out there, exploring, learning, growing—just as he did.”
Alfonsen’s voice grew softer, tinged with a deep sadness. “Instead, I am confined to a role I never wanted, performing duties that drain my spirit. Add to that the continuous guerilla warfare between my father’s wives and my sisters. I am metaphorically confined within a lavishly adorned cage, where the boundless expanse of the sky remains perpetually out of my reach, surrounded by angry beasts. The legacy of exploration and discovery he embodied feels like a distant dream. We are bound by duties that stifle our potential, and it breaks my heart to think that tradition and obligation snuffed out the adventurous spirit that defined our lineage.”
He looked at me, his eyes pleading for understanding. “Do you see, John? The very thing that made our family great—the freedom to explore, to choose our path—is now denied to us. It is a stark and unfortunate irony, a harsh twist of fate. It evokes a deep sense of frustration and longing for a life that may forever elude me.”
I wrote, “Unfair legacy restriction.” “Anything else?”
He shook his head.
“Then go over the list. You have to choose: freedom or duty? You’re the one who gets to make the call. Looking at the list, it’s clear that it boils down to this. So you need to decide what’s more important to you,” I said, handing him the paper.
Alfonsen took the list, his eyes scanning the words. “It is a dilemma that challenges the very core of my being,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the edges of the paper. He sighed again. “I have always felt a deep sense of duty, instilled in me since birth. Yet, the call of freedom and exploration is strong. The thought of being tied down, unable to see the universe as my ancestor once did, fills me with dread,” he confessed, his voice trembling slightly.
“It’s a tough choice, no doubt about it,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “But sometimes you’ve got to think about what’s best for you in the long run. I mean, your ancestor had the freedom to choose, right? So why can’t you?”
“Thank you, John. Your perspective has given me much to consider. I shall take this time to reflect deeply on what path I should choose.”
“Take all the time you need, Alfonsen. Just remember, whatever decision you make, it should be one you won’t regret,” I said, giving him a supportive smile.
He nodded once more, then stood up, clutching the list tightly. “I shall retire to my cabin to contemplate further. Your counsel has been invaluable, my friend,” he said formally before heading towards his cabin.
I watched him go, feeling relieved that he was finally considering his happiness, and went to replace Mahya at the helm.