Seamus yawned softly as he sat upon his cot, his sore body resting against the wooden hull of the ship. The sound of waves crashing relaxed the young man. He looked around the darkness of the deck below the surface, his eyes squinting through the scarce light.
“What time is it?” he muttered, rubbing his eyes as he attempted to get up.
“Noon, I presume.” Lowe’s voice suddenly spoke up, the gnome sitting near the young man’s cot.
Seamus turned to the small man, not noticing him at all. “How long have I been asleep?” The young man asked.
“A day at most. Most of yesterday was a blur. All I know is that we sailed all day yesterday and stopped this morning.”
“Stopped?”
“Yes… That fellow James sent off some of the crew on a longship earlier today.” The gnome sighed tiredly. “Judging from what I heard, we’re probably heading homeward,” Lowe muttered, rubbing his eyes as he yawned.
“Home,” Seamus echoed, his thoughts focusing on the small island Yorktown was on.
‘That’s right. Our quest is finally finished, isn’t it?’
Seamus pondered before a small smile came over his tired lips. “Thank Delphine,” the young man muttered as he rested against the hull, thanking the Goddess of Light herself.
His smile faltered when he remembered the burning island they had left behind, the last reminder of his clan now burned to ash.
“Shit,” Seamus realized, recalling the humans the orcs took as prisoners.
“Your friend James saved the prisoners,” Lowe answered. He seemed to be one step ahead of Seamus. “They were on that longship we came across the night we left.” Lowe seemed to still be clutching onto the cat ‘artifact’ from the vault, its golden exterior now covered in soot and even some dried-up blood.
“The longship…” Seamus recalled that night before he had passed out from exhaustion. Their vessel had encountered a black longship on the way out of the storm’s borders, which had led to a large commotion that nearly resulted in Frostbite completely ramming through the ship.
Fortunately, Haggard had informed everyone that the ship was friendly, which was supported by Edmund and Archibald’s presence on board, waving their arms to signal to the ship’s crew. Seamus couldn’t remember much after that since he was already fading in and out of consciousness before he succumbed to his exhaustion.
“The elf and the mercenary who were on the ship. Where are they?” Seamus asked.
“Gone. Same with the freed prisoners. They’re currently on their way to Vindis or whatever settlement your friend James sent them to,” the gnome explained. “I can’t remember. I was half awake when they left.”
Seamus raised an eyebrow. “Where’s James now?” He asked, groaning as he stood up from his cot, his knees wobbling slightly as he felt the ship’s slight movements over the waves of the sea.
“Above the deck. He’s talking with that pleasant woman up there.” Lowe yawned again, slipping back into his small cot as he held his artifact.
Seamus watched as the man returned to sleep, his eyes focused on the clean bandages he sported on his arm and torso.
“Pleasant woman…” Seamus couldn’t help but chuckle a little, his head shaking as he turned to the steps that led up to the surface.
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Brant sighed softly as he watched the ship known as Frostbite sail away into the distance, its black sails billowing in the wind. He continued to watch it for a while, at least before it finally winked away into the horizon nearly an hour later. The warrior of the south sighed again, his eyes moving to focus on the crew he was now stuck with. The mixture of orcs and humans didn’t seem to be the best thing for the ship, especially with the leader of the brutes giving orders to Haggard, who didn’t seem keen on following them.
“Bite me,” Haggard responded venomously, the brute’s leader taking the insult head-on as he scowled.
“If you don’t want to get thrown off the ship, I suggest you help us guide this ship to Vindis,” Silas threatened.
“How about you try to throw me off? I’ve killed enough of you bastards to know you’re not all that tough.” Haggard and Silas seemed to want to go at each other’s throats, but neither side seemed keen on going through with it.
“Hey, hey! Why don’t we just calm down?” Edmund stepped up, trying to ease tensions between both sides.
Brant shook his head as he watched the rest of the ship erupt into arguing and loud commotion, a clear divide between the orcs and humans.
“At this rate… We’ll be dead before we reach Vindis,” he muttered, his eyes moving to his friend and brother-in-arms, Finn. Brant caught the blond man fiddling with what looked to be a spell crystal, its color glowing a soft green before it turned into a lifeless gray.
“Is that…?” Brant raised an eyebrow as Finn tossed the spell crystal overboard.
“It is,” Finn answered simply, sighing as he sat down with Brant. “Why are you giving me that look? Our job is done, right? It’s only natural that we have to notify him.”
“It just seems strange that we must keep it a secret from everyone else.”
“Think nothing of it.” Finn waved his hand dismissively. “After we get your arm fixed, we’ll return home. Back to Jarl Ivan’s lands.”
Brant watched as his friend closed his eyes, the other man shifting to get comfortable in his seat.
‘Jarl Ivan’s lands,’ Brant echoed mentally, his thoughts recalling home or what he called home. He lived on one of Jarl Ivan’s islands, a small settlement bordering the southern edge of Valenfrost. Still, it wasn’t a town like Yorktown, but more of a barracks and large camp for Jarl Ivan’s men. Despite his brother-in-arms, Brant never liked his fellow warriors since they all seemed… Disconnected. They only cared about the Jarl, nothing more, nothing less.
‘Which is what we’re supposed to be caring about, right? He provides a living for us and cares for us… Right?’
Brant frowned as he recalled the times he had seen the Jarl who ‘cared’ for him. Ivan Falk of the South always seems to be in that chair of his, lazily ordering his men around. Ivan never seemed to be a capable leader since the Jarl usually focused on raiding other settlements and growing his small wealth. Hel, most of Ivan’s men weren’t even born into the clan. Brant himself used to be a homeless drifter until Finn saved him during the raid on a town Brant was visiting. Even then, the former drifter had only joined Ivan’s clan for the promise of food and pay. Never in Brant’s years of service had he seen Ivan act as a capable leader, nor even take risks that affected him personally.
‘Unlike him…’
Brant recalled the one person who had gained admiration these last few days. James Holter, the man who had saved his life. The young man who had led their group successfully against the abomination that threatened Valenfrost. Even when he was shaken up, James still pushed on, even going up against orcs on that island he ventured out onto. He had freed prisoners and stolen a longship, even somehow striking a companionship with a damn orc, at least, from what Brant had heard from Haggard and the other members of the crew on Draugr’s Haunt. They even named the damned longship after the man.
‘I’d rather follow him into battle rather than Ivan…’
Brant looked at the patch sown on his chest, the one that represented his clan. It represented a flying hawk, something that Ivan more than likely assumed himself to be.
‘Is it truly worth risking my life for someone who would never do the same for me?’
His mind was made up, and Brant used his good hand to pull his knife out. He carefully cut the patch from his green tunic before finally throwing the meaningless symbol overboard.
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“How far away is this Yorktown?” Liam’s voice caught Helen’s attention, ripping the ex-marauder out of her thoughts.
“Hm?” She turned to the ginger man, watching as he rephrased his question.
“Yorktown, how far away is it? We’ve been sailing for quite a while now,” Liam pointed out to the cloudy sky, where the sun’s light was hidden. Still, Helen had gotten so used to Valenfrost’s short days and cloudy sky that she knew it was noon. Frostbite had left that orc-infested settlement with due haste nearly two days ago because Seamus and Haggard wanted to get as far away from the burning island as possible. Still, despite their small stop with that longship in the morning, Frostbite had been traveling south for hours without so much as a stop. Helen could understand why Liam seemed confused, as Yorktown was so far south that it was the unofficial eastern edge of Valenfrost.
“It’s quite distant from Vindis. It took a whole day’s journey for Frostbite to reach the city after we left Yorktown’s port at dawn,” Helen admitted.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“It’s that far?” Liam asked as he raised an eyebrow, his hand holding onto the wooden wheel that steered the brig.
“Yes, but we shouldn’t be too far off now, judging from the map,” Helen muttered, her eyes glancing down at her small compass.
“I hear you’ll be set free after this is all done, right?” Liam asked, his blue eyes turning to Helen with a curious glance. “Are you planning on going home? Or does it involve that red hand on your chest?” The freckled man asked, his arm resting on the wheel as he kept it straight. Helen frowned, her eyes looking down at where her heart was. The familiar red handprint from Deimos was still stained against her black armor.
‘Home…’
Helen wasn’t even sure what was home anymore. Was it the pitched tents and constantly moving ships of the marauders? Was it the tightly compacted barracks back in the northern islands? Hel, was it back at Azurvale? The small hovel she had used to call home?
‘Do I even have a home to go back to?’ She wistfully thought before she recalled Haggard’s situation. She remembered what the man had told her back at that bar in Vindis.
> “Where do you plan to go once this is all done with?” She had asked the drunk man.
>
> “Me? Wherever fate wants me to go…”
>
> “That’s not really a sound thing to do… You will not go back to your home?”
>
> “Ha! Home?” The drunkard chuckled. “I was told years ago that home is where your heart and family is… Yet, look at me. The last of the Haggards, no family left.” He grinned after that despite the depressing words. Haggard had then impacted his fist against his chest. “I only have my heart, which beats for the thrill of fighting. That is home enough for me.”
Despite the words coming from a drunk man, Helen still hung onto that brief interaction with the drifter. Her eyes glanced over to her right, half expecting the idiot to be there, his confident grin and all. Yet there was nothing but the view of the infinite sea, fog covering nearly every inch. It looked how Helen felt. Empty, with no clear direction.
“Home,” she echoed aloud. Helen gazed back to the main deck, where James and Dahlia spoke.
‘He’s an outsider to Valenfrost. A drifter.’
Helen recalled what Dahlia had told her during their time on the ship. Just like Helen, James had no actual home.
‘That’s not true.’
James had a home. Yorktown had seemed to accept him, judging from how Dahlia and Felix trusted him. James Holter had a home to return to, something to look forward to after everything was done. Yet Helen had nothing but bad memories and a slight bruising around her neck.
She looked over at Liam, who still awaited an answer from the ex-marauder.
“A plan after this is all done?” Helen repeated the question, her eyes moving to the black sails of Frostbite, which billowed against the wind. She sighed softly before muttering her answer to the wheelman.
“Wherever fate takes me, I suppose…”
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“That’s quite the story,” Dahlia muttered, watching James sit back on the barrel, his hand over his bandaged wound. She did not know what to think about the young man’s retelling of the events that had transpired on that island. “There weren’t any abominations?” She asked, remembering the reason behind their quest.
“None. Only orcs and scared people,” James responded. “Not even Faust sensed anything.”
“Sensed anything? Faust can sense them?” Dahlia leaned in closer, out of interest.
“Yeah. Back on the other island, he sensed the abomination nearby. I’m not sure how it works, but he could sense their presence,” James explained.
“Interesting,” Dahlia muttered, her mind digging through the information she held about spirits. Her thoughts touched upon wraiths, specters, and even revenants, but none seemed to harbor a similar ability.
‘Then again. What James and Faust have is something special. Their situation is something I’ve never heard of or even thought was possible.’
Dahlia looked at James, remembering how Haggard had told her about the scene James had made back on the island.
The young man had grabbed the head of the orc who had stabbed him, which had caused the orc to scream out in agony as James’ eyes flared blue. It was something that Dahlia never knew was possible, nor even what it was. All she knew was that James had excluded it from his version of what had happened.
“James, is there anything you’re hiding from me?” The shaman asked softly.
James seemed to avoid eye contact, his fingers fiddling by themselves as he sighed.
“You know, don’t you?” he muttered.
“Haggard and Bjorn told me. They had explained to me that when you grabbed the orc’s head, you screamed. Your eyes were also glowing. So bright, in fact, that they could see your skull. What happened?” The shaman whispered softly, leaning in to hear the young man better as he muttered back.
“I… I’m not really sure.” James hesitated a little, his eyes avoiding hers. “I did it twice on the island, the first one being on a complete whim. Faust had said he wanted to try something, and so I listened. I grabbed the orc’s head, and everything went… white.”
James paused for a moment before continuing.
“It burned like hel and felt like my mind was clashing with the orc’s. It was just like back when Faust and I first clashed. The second time, it was right after the bastard had stabbed me. I remember feeling angry, like I wanted to rip his jaw off. Then my hands went for his head.” James raised his hands in motion that described how he did it. “It was the same as last time, but I kept holding for a little longer and saw things. Images of the sea, the ship, and other orcs. His memories.”
Dahlia stared at James in disbelief, unsure how to process the new information.
‘This is… I don’t even know what to call it. Memories? Clashing?’
Dahlia felt her thoughts running wild, trying to figure out what to make of this. Nothing in her head could even come close to explaining it, making it all the more frustrating to the shaman. This was something else entirely, a type of magic beyond her knowledge.
‘What is happening to James and Faust?’
She looked at the man in front of her, focusing on his blue eyes, which showcased the look of someone who was tired and sleep-deprived. Yet she swore she could see something flash in those irises, something that hinted at more to the young man. Was it the spirit of Faust? Or was it James himself?
Before she could speculate on an answer, Seamus’ voice interrupted her inner conflict.
“Dahlia? James?”
Both the shaman and young man turned to see their friend standing by the steps that led below the deck. His naturally bowl-shaped hair was a mess, and his birthmark was on display. Seamus looked as exhausted as James but thankfully didn’t suffer from any injuries outside of a few scratches and an arrow that had pierced his leg.
“You’re finally awake?” Dahlia asked, watching as Seamus made his way to a nearby crate, his hands opening it.
“Breakfast calls,” Seamus answered, his hand pulling out a couple of small biscuits from the open lid of the crate.
“There’s food in those?” James suddenly asked, the blond man moving to join Seamus for a very late breakfast.
Dahlia sighed as she turned to the starboard side of the ship, her eyes staring out into the never-ending waves. She had already eaten earlier that day, her meal comprising those rock-hard biscuits and some brewed tea. Dahlia couldn’t wait to return to Yorktown and start cooking actual meals for herself instead of living on the rations and provisions Frostbite carried.
“Just a little longer, and we’ll be right at home,” Dahlia muttered softly, her eyes moving to look ahead, where the fog still obscured the distance. Things still needed to be settled, like the Lumen Knights, James’ exile, and the strange woman beneath the deck. Despite it all, Dahlia couldn’t wait until the day was over so she could finally rest in her comfortable bed. Unfortunately for the shaman, it wouldn’t be as simple. She couldn’t help but get a bad feeling about today. As if something told her it wouldn’t be as easy as she would assume.
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Gryff stared down at the spell crystal in his hand, its green glow signifying to the knight that the time for thinking had ended. James Holter had finished his quest and was returning to Yorktown. Gryff sighed as he clenched the crystal tightly, his eyes moving to look at the docked ships before him.
“Is that what I think it is?” Hugo asked from behind.
“It is,” the cryomancer muttered.
“Pity. These people won’t have a clue, will they?”
“The less they know, the easier it’ll be,” Gryff stated. “Gather our soldiers and Ivan’s men. The quicker we do this, the quicker we seal the fractures.”
The behemoth nodded in agreement, his heavy feet moving him to the town.
“I’ll get on it right away. Are you going to write back to him? The Wizard?” Hugo asked, his lumbering form stopping halfway through the harbor.
Gryff nodded. “I am. In the meantime, however, we should prepare to enact our initial plan. Once the soldiers are gathered, we should head on our way to meet our friend James before he arrives. The faster we finish this…”
“The faster we fix everything,” Hugo finished before heading off without another word.
Gryff sighed as he turned back to the small crystal in his hand. It was cracked now, and its green light was now vacant. He hadn’t fully recovered from his last divination spell, which had tanked many of his magical reserves. Despite this, the knight was far from weak. He could easily win in a fight against those town guards and that veteran in Yorktown. Still, Gryff had to leave that up to his soldiers and those green tunic warriors Ivan had sent. He was responsible for extracting the samples from James and dealing with him personally.
‘Will it be that simple?’
Gryff frowned a little, his hand tossing the dead crystal aside. He knew better than to underestimate the young man and his friends, especially with what he had heard happened the last time he was put up against such odds.
‘Held off an invading group of marauders and killed a deadly creature while at it.’
It wasn’t any group of marauders, but the ones led by the infamous outlaw Deimos, more commonly referred to by his other name, the Red Death of the North. That the Red Death left a ship for James was more than a warning to Gryff that the young man was more capable than he looked. The same went for that shaman who had accompanied him the entire battle.
“Still, he probably won’t be much of a problem if I catch him off guard,” Gryff muttered. With the right timing, he could finish his task before nightfall. The knight moved his hand into his armor, pulling out a rolled piece of parchment, its edges crisp and clean. He unrolled it, reading through what he wrote for his report.
After making sure he spared no details, Gryff rolled it back up. He tied it in a small string and brought out a small wax stick. He cut off a sliver of the red wax before pressing it against the roll of parchment with his ring. After he chanted a few choice words, Gryff melted the wax with his heated silver ring, imprinting the seven-pointed symbol of Delphine in the wax seal.
“Beautiful.” Gryff smiled before holding up the roll of parchment. “Avate Ignis,” the Lumen Knight muttered, snapping his fingers at the parchment. A small red rune appeared in front of the parchment before it soon lit up into flames. The engulfing flames died out as fast as they came, disappearing with the parchment and leaving nothing but a few burning embers.