Mero lies down after contemplating the stars for a long time, lost in thought. The night sky unfurls its constellations like a silent promise, but despite their comfort, sleep stubbornly evades him. He shifts constantly, searching for a soothing position, but tranquility always seems just out of reach.

His restless movements eventually disturb Leila, who usually shares his bed with unshakable patience. Without a word or reproach—because she would never reproach him—she quietly gets up and joins Master Antonin's bed. Her gesture is imbued with attentive gentleness, as if she wants to offer him the space he seems to need.

The room falls back into absolute silence, only disturbed by the tumult of Mero's thoughts. The fleeting shadow of the young pirate still dances in his mind, mingled with the salty smell of the sea and the vivid memory of that unexpected kiss. All of this swirls in his mind like a raging tide.

He turns over and over, the weight of recent events crushing his search for sleep. Far from finding rest, he is bombarded by unanswered questions, indecipherable impressions. Leila's peaceful breath, now muffled by the distance between them, is something he misses without truly admitting it to himself.

Alone in this sea of silence, he hears the distant murmur of the waves, regular and almost reassuring. Yet, this familiar sound cannot calm the growing unease that rises within him. Everything feels different that night, as if a page has turned without him fully realizing it.

With heavy eyelids but a mind still awake, he finally forces himself to close his eyes, desperately trying to seek refuge in sleep. But even when fatigue finally claims him, the memories of that night remain suspended on the surface of his dreams. The shadow of the young pirate and the mysteries to come still dance in his mind, elusive and enchanting.

The morning stretches under soft light, the fresh, invigorating sea breeze caressing the skin. Mero walks alongside Master Antonin on the deserted shore. The sea sparkles under the first rays of the day, its waves coming to lick the damp sand with a soothing regularity.

Master Antonin, his gaze sharpened by years of observation, points to a squat plant whose purple flowers burst under the dew.

— This plant, he explains, is used by the island's inhabitants to treat wounds and skin inflammations.

Mero listens attentively, taking in every detail, while his master unfolds a true biology and ecology lesson in Imperial language, which he is beginning to master. The scholar speaks to him of the subtleties of marine ecosystems, the role of seaweed, the creatures lurking under rocks, and the birds soaring above the waves.

— Every element of nature is interconnected, Master Antonin emphasizes. Breaking this balance is to invite the wrath of the sea: storms, famines, shipwrecks… Sailors know this better than anyone.

His tone grows more serious.

— But harmony, though fragile, can also be beneficial. Ecology is not just a science, Mero. It is a way of life and respecting the world around us.

Mero nods, absorbing these words of wisdom. The sea suddenly seems immense, full of mysteries, but also offering endless opportunities.

As they continue, Mero picks up a few seeds from the plant with healing properties. They slip into his pocket like a silent promise of knowledge.

The return to the city takes them through narrow alleyways, lined with houses whose facades have aged from the salt. The smells of fresh fish and warm bread float in the air. Suddenly, a boy of about five years old appears from nowhere and tugs on Mero’s sleeve.

Without a word, the child hands him a stone wrapped in worn cloth, gives him a mischievous smile, and then disappears as quickly as he appeared.

Mero unfolds the cloth to examine the stone. It is smooth, slightly translucent, with mysterious etched patterns. The symbols seem ancient, carrying an obscure meaning.

Master Antonin, who had been walking a few steps ahead, stops when he sees Mero slow down.

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— What do you have there? he asks, intrigued.

Mero hands him the stone and briefly recounts the incident. The scholar observes it carefully, a concerned wrinkle creasing his forehead.

— The children here are often more clever than we think, he says cautiously. Sometimes their gifts are messages… or warnings. But it would be unwise to pay too much attention to them without understanding their customs.

He hands the stone back to Mero.

— Keep it, but be vigilant. These little tricksters sometimes know more than they let on.

Master Antonin’s advice resonates in Mero’s mind, but it is not enough to quell his growing curiosity. Why did the child give him this stone? What do the etched symbols mean?

Slipping the stone into his pocket, Mero follows his master through the winding alleys, his thoughts occupied by this unexpected mystery. A deep intuition whispers to him that this simple gesture might be the beginning of an unsuspected quest. They return to the inn for lunch.

The sun is high in the sky when Mero and his group leave the inn for a new adventure. The salty smell of the sea mixes with the aromas from the lively market streets, where the hum of conversations and transactions fills the air. Master Antonin, ever the observer, seems particularly intrigued by a bookseller he’s heard about. His eyes, usually grave, now gleam with interest.

"A bookseller… Not the kind of person you find every day around here, is it?" he remarks, turning to Mero. "Books here often carry ancient, even forbidden knowledge. If this bookseller has rare or esoteric works, it could be a valuable opportunity to learn more."

Leila, walking beside Mero, seems both distracted and attentive. Although she keeps an eye on him, a light smile plays on her lips. The four sailors, on the other hand, seem less interested in the books than in the idea of strolling through the narrow streets, but they remain vigilant, ready to protect the group if the need arises. One of them, the tallest, casts furtive glances around him, scanning the alleys for any potential threats.

They move through the bustling alleys, where voices mix with laughter and negotiations. After a few detours, they reach a small wooden shop, almost hidden between two other buildings. The window is full of leather-bound books, rolled parchments, and old maps. The scent of aged paper fills the air, a fragrance that stirs in Mero a sense of curiosity and mystery.

Master Antonin gently pushes the door open and enters, with Mero following closely behind. Inside, soft light emanates from candles and glass lamps. Behind the wooden counter stands an old man with long white hair, wearing thick glasses. He is engrossed in a worn book, but when he sees the group’s arrival, he looks up, and an enigmatic smile appears on his face.

"Ah, visitors," he says in a deep voice. "All my works are rare and precious. Are you looking for something specific, or are you simply seeking more knowledge?"

Master Antonin steps forward, his eyes scanning the shelves. "We’re looking for works on naval strategy, perhaps ancient travel tales or forgotten maps," he replies calmly.

The merchant nods slowly, his gaze becoming sharper. "I have what you seek, maybe even more intriguing things. But know that there is always a price to pay for such knowledge."

Mero examines the shelves, full of sumptuous leather-bound books and others more fragile, the edges worn by time. The atmosphere in the shop, although peaceful, seems imbued with an ancient mystery. With a wink, the merchant offers a guided tour of his collection.

"How about a little tour?" he adds, moving towards a shelf that seems to conceal something special.

Master Antonin nods. "Show us what you have."

Mero, following along, wonders what kind of secrets this merchant might hold. And perhaps, beyond the books, there’s something even more fascinating to discover in this small shop.

The whole group is absorbed in their quest. Master Antonin converses with the merchant while Leila flips through a book on local myths. The sailors merely skim through illustrated books, punctuating their actions with laughter and exclamations of surprise. Mero, on the other hand, wanders the aisles, his curious gaze roaming.

It is then that a little girl silently approaches him and hands him a flower. Brilliant blue, its petals are almost unreal in beauty, as if sculpted from the night. A mischievous smile adorns the child’s face before she runs off, as quietly as she appeared. No one notices this exchange.

Mero, holding the flower in his hand, gazes at it for a moment. The little girl, so simply, seems to have chosen him for a particular reason. Why give him this flower? And why the discretion, as if this act should go unnoticed?

In the shop, everyone seems absorbed in their tasks. Master Antonin is still in conversation with the merchant, and Leila is engrossed in her book, unaware of the incident. The sailors continue flipping through their illustrated books, enjoying the pictures but letting out a few bursts of laughter.

Mero slips the flower into his coat pocket, a strange sensation growing within him. Why this flower? Was it a simple child’s gesture, or a disguised message? He feels observed, as if something greater is hidden behind this seemingly trivial act.

He scans the space around him, but no one seems to have seen the little girl or the gesture. The dim light, the shelves cluttered with books, and the mysterious atmosphere of the shop only strengthen this sense of enigma. Mero begins to believe that this encounter was not as innocent as it seemed.

Suddenly, he wonders if it’s time to leave, to return to the inn and reflect on this strange meeting. But before leaving, he casts one last look at the shelves, wondering if the shop hides a secret he’s not yet able to comprehend.