The pitch of Klent’s scream elevated to a shriek in between rasping breaths. He took several more stumbling steps backward until he tripped as the boat tilted, sliding and rolling on the deck as his hands furiously clawed at his face.

Wellynd stood there for a moment, catching his breath, the wind whipping his torn jacket wildly behind him. Dizziness washed over him as he looked at his hand and braced himself back against the wooden rail.

Just like after his practice with the jant, it looked fine. Unchanged.

The intense fire mere moments ago had evaporated. He shook the hand absent-mindedly, looking to see the still-writhing Klent, who had now rolled near Jensen.

The old drunk responded by shimmying around him and ambling toward Wellynd. He turned to him and gave him a solemn nod.

The two of them watched on as Klent stumbled to his feet and managed to follow the cabin’s walls over to the side of the boat. He looked to the sky, his eyes opened widely to the rain and began to helplessly cup his hands and splash water into his face.

He’d just attacked a Vertan soldier.

His future had gone from uncertain to grim.

As he watched the man slosh water onto his face, Wellynd couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of Alara or Laine visiting him in the dungeons of Fort Gravician.

Klent would probably push to have him executed. Probably him and Jensen.

Who must have been thinking the same thing, because, suddenly, the old man was running.

Not to the safety of the main deck and cabin.

Not away from his aggressor.

He was sprinting right at Klent.

The blinded soldier had no notion of the danger as Jensen rushed toward him, arms pulled back, the wind whipping his mangy hair behind him.

“Wait!” yelled Wellynd.

Just before he reached his target, Jensen threw his arms forward and slammed both of his hands into the man’s chest, throwing all of his weight into his him. Klent let out a strangled cry as he toppled over the handrail, Jensen in tow.

And then they were gone.

Wellynd, barely able to keep his feet, let out an incoherent yelp as he reeled to the edge. He steadied himself and peered overboard, eyes darting, hopelessly searching for any shapes in the turbulent chaos of roiling foam and jet black waves. He could hear the sound of his heartbeat weak in his ears, barely breaking through the encompassing howl of the storm’s gusts.

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Feeling a sudden rush of dizziness, he pushed away from the side of the boat and tripped over something on the deck. He landed hard on one knee, his hands planted firmly to the deck.

As he attempted to stand up, another breaker slammed into the hull.

Wellynd’s legs gave out and he face-planted hard against the planks.

The cold rain beat hard against his hot face. Laying for a moment, he relaxed into the solid wood beneath him, his eyes refusing to remain open any longer.

~

It was warm when Wellynd woke. His eyes opened to a wooden ceiling not much higher than he could reach. Turning his head to the left, he tried to speak, but could only manage a coarse rasp.

“Hush boy, you’ve strained your vocal chords,” said Leofer warmly. “We’re half an hour out of the Port, but I need to hear it from you first. I could see some of what was going on and was too busy keepin’ us alive to do anythin’ about it.” He chuckled “Though, looks like ya didn’t need me.”

The sailor placed a rolled paper between his lips and fumbled around in his pockets for a few moments, before eventually pulling out a box of matches. He threw the first four on the ground and made a show of waving the fifth in a drying motion.

“Damned thing got nearly soaked through.” he complained as he lit his cigarette. He closed his eyes and took a long drag.

“So, start from the beginning.”

Recounting the fight as best he could, Wellynd left nothing out from the story.

As he drew to the part when Jensen had knocked Klent and himself overboard, he quieted his voice. Leofer placed his hand on his shoulder, a whisk of smoke accompanying his comforting tap.

“You did just fine, Welly. Jensen really showed him what Ars Illuve is made of at the end there, didn’t he.”

Wellynd balled his hands into fists.

“Yeah…I couldn’t do anything to stop him. He just…ran right at him” he said, looking out the window at the sky, menace still lingering in the dark centres of the fluffy grey clouds.

“Well, if anyone does come askin’, the pair of em’ never boarded the boat. I’m guessin’ his superior’s gonna come around at some point, but it’s best we just act like we never saw em’”

Wellynd nodded. “They couldn’t make it back to shore, could they?”

“Doubt it. That was at least a league if not slightly more offshore. Anyone swimmin’ that far in these conditions has earned their confession” he scoffed, reaching for a bottle that he’d tucked away on the shelf. “We’d better head in. It’s turnin’ midday now, and you said you had deliveries to make, isn’t that right?”

He knocked back a mouthful straight from the bottle before stopping it with the same cloth and stowing it back on the shelf.

“Yeah, but I think I need to stop in and dry my clothes first.”

“Good. So we’re set...” Leofer gave him a strong pat on the back before disappearing out of the cabin.

Wellynd stood up and stretched. A large coastal map hung above the table. Before moving for the door, he looked back, noting the half-made cot, the desk strewn with papers, a book, and some other effects.

He couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if he had just taken Leofer’s suggestion and hung out here for the duration of the voyage. Now he felt like he had two deaths on his hands.

And he had to pretend like it never happened.