Ari stood in the grand foyer of the Rosviel mansion, her slender hands clutching her chest as if to physically restrain the turmoil churning within. The morning light streaming through tall windows cast prismatic patterns across the polished wooden floor, but the beauty of the moment was lost on her. Her younger brother Farah approached with measured steps, his dark eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her want to look away.
"So, you are going," he said, his voice calm but threaded with concern that belied his casual posture.
"Yeah, but only for a meeting with him," Ari replied, her voice barely rising above a whisper. The words felt hollow even as she spoke them, a thin veneer of normalcy stretched over an abyss of uncertainty.
Farah tilted his head, his brows knitting together in the way they always did when he was trying to understand something that troubled him. "You still have time to figure something out. Do you have a plan?"
Ari shook her head, the gesture small and defeated. "I don't need one. I've decided to go with him. It would be better for everyone." The phrase sounded rehearsed, as if she'd repeated it to herself so many times it had become a mantra - hollow but necessary.
Farah's breath escaped in a heavy sigh, carrying with it all the doubt he couldn't voice directly. "But is it better for you?"
Before Ari could formulate an answer - before she could even decide if she wanted to answer - the sound of brisk footsteps echoed through the hallway. Mia appeared at the entrance, her apron swaying with her purposeful stride, her expression professionally neutral despite the emotional weight hanging in the air.
"Everything is set on the carriage, Miss Ari," Mia announced, her voice crisp and efficient. "Is there perhaps anything else you wish to take with you?"
Ari's expression brightened fractionally, a flicker of genuine interest penetrating her melancholy. "There is a book in my room about elemental magic written by Tal'shen. Could you fetch it for me, Mia?"
The maid bowed and departed swiftly, leaving the siblings alone once more in the quiet, sunlit foyer. The air between them thickened with unspoken worries, the kind that siblings carry for each other but rarely articulate. Ari's fingers traced the intricate designs carved into the wooden railing of the nearby staircase - swirling patterns that had been there her entire life, familiar as her own heartbeat.
"It's not… but it's okay," Ari murmured, more to herself than to Farah, her voice trailing off into the silence.
Farah took a step toward the stairs leading to his own room, his shoulders carrying a weight that seemed too heavy for his young frame. As he reached the first step, he spoke without turning, his voice so low Ari almost missed it: "Don't lie to yourself."
The phrase struck Ari like a physical blow, piercing through all her carefully constructed defenses. A single tear welled in her eye, hot and insistent, before slipping down her cheek in a silent betrayal of her composure. She quickly brushed it away with trembling fingers, composing herself just as Mia returned with the book clutched in both hands, treating it with the reverence of a sacred object.
Ari accepted it with a nod of thanks, holding the leather-bound tome against her chest like armor, and followed the maid out to the waiting carriage.
The carriage stood waiting in the cobblestone courtyard, a stately vehicle designed to mimic a wealthy merchant's conveyance rather than announce noble status - practical rather than ostentatious. Two sturdy sorrel horses snorted and pawed at the ground, their polished harnesses gleaming in the morning sunlight like liquid bronze. Their breath formed small clouds in the crisp air, a reminder that autumn was giving way to something colder.
At the helm sat a guard acting as coachman, his weathered face expressionless but his eyes alert, scanning the surroundings with the constant vigilance of his profession. Flanking the carriage were two mounted guards, their dark cloaks rippling in the gentle morning breeze like the wings of silent ravens. Samuel, one of her personal guards, stood near the open carriage door, his expression serious but welcoming, the contrast reflecting the duality of his role - both protector and companion.
Ari greeted them all with a slight nod as she approached, clutching the book against her chest as though it might shield her from what lay ahead. Samuel stepped closer, his boots crunching on the gravel, and spoke in a low, reassuring tone that carried the weight of formal duty.
"Miss Ari, I will be your personal guard on this journey. There will be another, named Frost, who will join us in the lower tier."
"Such a formal speech, Sam," Ari teased gently, attempting to inject some levity into the heavy atmosphere. "My mother isn't around, you know."
Samuel allowed a brief smile to play across his lips - a small crack in his professional demeanor - but said nothing more. His eyes, however, carried warmth that his official posture wouldn't permit his words to express.
At that moment, a finely dressed gentleman approached from the direction of the mansion's guest quarters, his movements purposeful and measured. He carried a leather briefcase that looked heavy with important documents, and his gaze was keen, missing nothing as it swept across the scene. His attire spoke of diplomatic service - impeccably tailored but understated, designed to command respect without demanding attention.
"I believe we haven't met, Miss Ari," he said with a courteous bow that was neither too deep nor too shallow - perfectly calibrated for his station and hers. "I'm Mateo Arashika, a diplomat assigned to accompany you to the Coast."
"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Arashika," Ari replied with a polite dip of her head, mirroring his formality while her fingers tightened imperceptibly on her book.
Arashika's eyes flicked to Samuel with the assessing gaze of someone accustomed to evaluating personnel. "And you must be Samuel, the guard. But I don't see Frost around here."
Samuel nodded, his posture straightening slightly under the diplomat's scrutiny. "You're correct, sir. He is due to join us as we descend to the second tier."
"I see," Arashika said, stroking his well-groomed beard thoughtfully, the gesture betraying the only hint of concern in his otherwise composed demeanor. "Then we're all prepared, yes? Are we awaiting anything else?"
"I was hoping to see the High Priestess before we departed," Ari admitted, glancing back toward the cathedral whose spires were just visible over the mansion's roof, reaching toward the morning sky like stone prayers.
Arashika shook his head with what might have been sympathy. "They're deep in debate. I attempted to reach her myself, but no one is to be disturbed. The cardinals can be… intractable when matters of state are at hand."
Ari's shoulders sagged almost imperceptibly, another small farewell denied.
Just then, one of the guard - a young man with tousled blond hair - came sprinting toward them from the direction of the barracks, his breathing labored as he reached out to steady himself against Samuel's shoulder. Sweat glistened on his brow despite the cool morning air, suggesting he'd run the entire distance.
"Apologies for being late," he panted, his chest heaving. "I'm one of the guards escorting you to Haven."
Ari's eyes widened with recognition, her expression shifting from resignation to surprise. "I wasn't expecting you, Ash."
"Fine, fine," Arashika cut in with a dismissive wave of his hand, his patience with delays clearly wearing thin. "We can chat inside the carriage. Let's be on our way. The tides wait for no one, and neither should we."
Ari was the first to climb into the carriage, her movements graceful despite the emotional weight she carried. She was followed by Arashika, then Samuel, and finally Ash, who squeezed in last, still catching his breath. The plush interior was lined with dark green velvet that had been carefully chosen to absorb light rather than reflect it - practical for a vessel meant to travel unnoticed. The scent of polished wood and leather filled the confined space, oddly comforting in its richness.
Samuel and Ash, as guards, were not typically allowed to ride inside with nobility, but exceptions were made for personal protection and specific diplomatic missions. The arrangement spoke to both the importance of this journey and the genuine danger that might await them.
As the carriage began to move, the sound of iron-shod hooves striking cobblestones filled the air with a steady rhythm - clop-clop-clop-clop - like a mechanical heartbeat carrying them toward an uncertain future. The vehicle swayed gently as it navigated the first turn, and Ari braced herself against the motion, her book still pressed against her chest.
She turned to Ash, curiosity momentarily overriding her apprehension. "Do you have business in Haven, or are you traveling with us the whole way?"
"I'm being dispatched as reinforcement for Yani's group," he replied, adjusting the buckle of his leather belt with fingers that showed the calluses of sword work. His tone was matter-of-fact, professional - this was simply his duty, nothing more.
"When you see Yani, tell him I said hello," Ari said with a fond smile that reached her eyes for the first time that morning. "He's a good friend of Astra's. They served together during the border conflicts."
Arashika looked curious, his diplomatic instincts engaging. "Is he the one with the croc and the hamster?" He said it with the slight confusion of someone who'd heard the description second-hand and wasn't entirely certain he'd remembered correctly.
"It's Criceti, but yes, that's him," Ash confirmed with a slight smirk. "His team also includes three elven sisters. I'm on my way to support them in some new investigation."
"Sounds peculiar," Samuel remarked with a wry smile, the kind of comment that acknowledged the strangeness of military life without judgment.
The carriage came to a halt with a gentle rocking motion, and someone outside knocked on the door - three sharp raps that echoed in the confined space. Frost climbed in, his broad frame nearly filling the doorway as he maneuvered into the already-crowded interior. As he squeezed in beside Ash and Samuel, the two guards were pushed to the sides like books on an overfilled shelf, nearly bumping into the carriage walls. Ari stifled a laugh at the comical sight - three grown men trying to arrange themselves in a space designed for two.
Before Frost could close the door, Ari caught a glimpse of a young woman standing on the street, waving to him with an expression that mixed hope and longing. Her identity remained a mystery for Ari, but the gesture spoke volumes - another farewell, another connection that would have to wait for reunion.
As the carriage rattled along the uneven road, transitioning from smooth cobblestones to rougher packed earth, the guards' quiet, casual conversation filled the air like background music - low voices blending with the creaking of wooden wheels and the rhythmic clopping of hooves. Arashika was occupied with reviewing a stack of documents, his eyes scanning each page with practiced precision, occasionally making small notations with a graphite pencil.
Ari sat beside him, holding her book on elemental magic, her fingers gently tracing the embossed title on the worn leather cover. She opened it and read the title several times - Art of Creation: Secrets of Earth Magic and Its Ability to Create and Destroy - as if the words themselves might reveal hidden meanings beyond their literal sense. She turned the pages slowly, methodically, though her mind was clearly elsewhere. Her heart pounded with each rustle of parchment, though she knew intellectually that the answers she desperately sought - clues about the man she wanted to meet again, her mysterious savior from the temple - would not be found within these academic discussions of elemental theory.
Lost in thought, Ari almost didn't notice when Frost cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, the leather creaking beneath him. "So, Miss Ari, we would like to... you know, like..."
His uncharacteristic hesitation drew Arashika's attention from his papers. The diplomat glanced up, a faint smile tugging at his lips - the expression of someone who recognized unnecessary formality when he saw it. "No need for such stiffness, Frost. We're all colleagues on this journey."
Frost nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he began again, his voice more natural. "Ari, do you know what we can expect when we get there? To the Coast, I mean."
The question caught Ari off guard, pulling her fully from her reverie. She bit her lip, a small gesture of uncertainty that revealed more than words could. In truth, she didn't know what awaited her at the Citadel. The thought was simultaneously terrifying and oddly abstract - as if the future existed in some parallel realm that hadn't quite become real yet.
Arashika, noticing her hesitation and recognizing her discomfort, smoothly intervened. He set his documents aside with deliberate care, giving the question his full attention. "It's a straightforward meeting, procedurally speaking. In the morning, you will escort Miss Ari to the Citadel. You'll stay with her at all times - I cannot stress this enough. Kreaton or another competent official will guide you through the compound. During the actual meeting, keep silent unless directly addressed. Always stay beside her, within arm's reach if possible, and ensure Miss Ari signs the necessary documents." He paused, his expression growing more serious. "If she is invited to a dinner afterward - and she likely will be - accompany her but do not eat. This is crucial. Just stand behind her chair and stay vigilant. Once everything is concluded and all documents are secured, escort her immediately back to the ship. And make absolutely certain not to lose any documents or personal belongings she receives. These papers will have legal and diplomatic significance."
The carriage fell into contemplative silence, the guards exchanging meaningful glances that spoke of shared concerns. Ari drew in a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the effort of maintaining composure. The clinical nature of Arashika's description somehow made it all feel more real and more daunting.
Frost leaned forward slightly, his brow furrowed. "Thank you, Mr. Arashika, for that thorough briefing. But what exactly should we do when we meet with Kreaton? How should we conduct ourselves?"
Arashika's eyes shifted to Ari, leaving the question for her to answer - this was, after all, her journey, her decision, her fate. She took a moment, gathering her thoughts like scattered papers, her voice barely steady when she finally spoke.
"I… accepted him as my spouse." The words came out mechanically, as if she'd rehearsed them so many times they'd lost all meaning. "It was Elara who convinced me. I will marry him and become his wife, though I don't know what kind of man he truly is." Her gaze fell to the floor of the carriage, to the worn wood that had carried countless travelers on countless journeys. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears that she refused to let fall. "Please, watch my reactions carefully and act accordingly. I trust you both to keep me safe."
The vulnerability in her voice - the raw honesty of her admission - seemed to transform the atmosphere in the carriage. Samuel and Frost shared a solemn glance that carried the weight of an unspoken oath. They nodded in unison, their expressions hardening with determination.
"Leave it to us," they said together, their voices low but firm, carrying a promise that transcended mere duty.
The hours passed in a strange mixture of tedium and tension as the carriage continued its journey through forests where ancient trees formed cathedral-like canopies overhead, and across open plains where the wind whispered secrets through tall grass. The landscape blurred into a continuous tapestry of green and gold, browns and grays - the colors of a world transitioning between seasons.
They spoke only occasionally. The guards engaged in idle chatter about garrison life and training regimens, comparing notes on sword techniques and sharing stories of memorable (and often humorous) patrol incidents. Ari immersed herself in her book, though Arashika noticed she'd been reading the same page for nearly an hour. The diplomat himself continued reviewing his documents, making notes and cross-references, preparing for every contingency his experienced mind could imagine.
As the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant strokes of amber, rose, and deep violet, they reached Haven. The bustling port city sprawled before them like a living organism, nestled along the Theocracy's rugged coastline. Beyond it stretched the endless expanse of the Verdal Sea - a vast, mysterious body of water that separated civilizations and connected destinies. Far across those wine-dark waters, invisible from this distance but looming large in Ari's imagination, lay the Likaon Coast and the Citadel where Kreaton waited.
The carriage came to a halt on cobblestone streets near the docks, the sudden stillness after hours of motion momentarily disorienting. The air here smelled different - sharp with salt and fish, thick with the scents of tar and rope and human commerce. Mr. Arashika was the first to disembark, his movements brisk and efficient, betraying no sign of the journey's fatigue. Two mounted guards quickly joined him, flanking him protectively as he strode toward the waiting ship without a backward glance - duty called, and sentiment had no place in diplomacy.
Ari emerged next, stepping down carefully, followed by Samuel, Frost, and Ash. The moment Ash's boots touched the ground, he was gone - vanishing into the gathering dusk with the fluid grace of water finding its level, swallowed by the city's narrow alleyways and evening shadows. Ari's eyes followed his path briefly, but he had already disappeared, becoming just another shadow among shadows.
With her personal guards beside her - Samuel on her right, Frost on her left, both subtly positioned to shield her from potential threats - Ari walked toward the quay. The docks were a hive of activity despite the late hour: sailors shouting orders, dock workers hauling cargo, merchants finalizing last-minute deals, prostitutes calling to potential customers, children darting between adults like quick fish through kelp.
Ari's gaze was drawn westward toward the sea, where the sunset should have been visible. But it was barely perceptible, obscured by the tall ships moored at the harbor - their masts like a forest of leafless trees - and the crowded rooftops of warehouses and taverns that lined the waterfront. She stepped closer to the edge of the quay, as close as she dared, feeling the pull of the vast water before her.
A gust of sea wind swept across the docks, strong enough to tousle her hair and ruffle the fur on her kitsune ears and tail. The breeze carried the taste of salt and the promise of storms, of distances and destinations unknown. She stood just a step away from the water's edge, holding the book behind her back with both hands, when a thought crossed her mind - dark, intrusive, unwelcome.
How easy it would be to simply step forward. To let the water take me. To make this decision by not deciding.
"Beautiful view, isn't it?" Samuel's voice broke through her dark reverie, warm and deliberately casual - had he sensed her thoughts?
"Yes, it is," Ari replied softly, forcing the morbid fantasy away. Her eyes lingered on the fading light, on the boundary between sea and sky that blurred in the gathering darkness. "Where the sun sets, darkness arises." The words came out more philosophical than she'd intended, carrying a weight of meaning she hadn't consciously put there.
She turned away from the water, from its seductive depths and dangerous promises, and faced her guards with renewed determination - or at least its appearance. "Let's board the ship."
As they approached the vessel - a sturdy three-masted merchant ship called the Stormchaser - the crew stood ready to receive them, their weathered faces professionally neutral but their eyes curious. A captain with dark hair liberally streaked with gray, a thick mustache, and a neatly trimmed beard that followed his strong jawline welcomed them aboard with a broad grin that revealed teeth stained by years of tobacco.
He wore a long, weathered coat that had once been fine but now showed the accumulated damage of countless voyages - salt stains, small tears mended with mismatched thread, buttons replaced with whatever was available. His blue trousers were tucked into tall, scuffed boots that had walked a thousand decks. A pipe hung from his lips, smoke curling up into the evening air in lazy spirals, and his eyes - gray as storm clouds - carried the particular wisdom of someone who'd spent more of his life on water than land.
"Welcome aboard the Stormchaser, Princess," he said, his voice gruff but warm, carrying the peculiar accent of someone who'd lived in many places and belonged to none.
Ari greeted him with a polite nod as she stepped onto the ship's deck, feeling the subtle motion beneath her feet - the gentle rocking that marked the transition from solid land to floating vessel. "That's a fancy name for a - " Samuel began to mock, but was swiftly cut off.
"Yeah, yeah," the captain interrupted with a dismissive wave of his hand that sent pipe smoke swirling. "Go find your berths, and let's get out of this cursed port already." He turned to his crew, his voice rising to a commanding bellow that carried over the dock's ambient noise. "Hoist the anchor! Make ready to sail! Unfurl the mainsail and set the course southwest by west!"
Samuel chuckled at the captain's brusque tone, unable to resist one more jab. "You don't seem to like Haven much, do you?"
The captain grumbled, puffing on his pipe with obvious irritation, creating a small cloud around his head. "Lost too many bets here. How am I supposed to like this cursed place? The games are rigged, the women are mercenary, and the ale is watered down. Give me open sea any day."
The Stormchaser groaned and shifted as it began pulling away from the dock, the massive sails catching the night breeze with audible cracks and whoomphs that sounded like giants snapping their fingers. The deck tilted slightly as the vessel found its momentum, and Ari and her guards stumbled, adjusting to the movement that would become their constant companion.
"Whoa, hope I don't get seasick," Samuel said, steadying himself against a barrel lashed to the deck, his face already looking slightly green.
"You've never sailed before?" Frost asked, raising an eyebrow in genuine surprise. For someone who served in the coastal regions, this seemed like an odd gap in experience.
"Nope," Samuel admitted with a somewhat embarrassed grin, his hand moving to his stomach as if anticipating rebellion. "I'm a pure land rat. Born inland, served inland, stayed inland."
Ari sighed, the exhaustion from the day's journey and emotional turmoil finally settling into her bones like lead. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm heading to bed. See you tomorrow." The words came out more curtly than she'd intended, but she lacked the energy for pleasantries.
"Goodnight," Frost said with a respectful nod, his tone carrying genuine concern. "Rest well."
"Pleasant dreams," Samuel added, though his attention was clearly divided between Ari and his increasingly uneasy stomach.
Ari descended the narrow staircase into the ship's belly, her boots tapping against wooden steps worn smooth by countless feet. The air grew warmer and closer as she descended, thick with the smells of bilge water, old wood, and lamp oil. She navigated the cramped corridor, counting doors until she found her assigned cabin - a small room barely larger than a closet, with just enough space for a hammock swaying gently with the ship's motion and a tiny shelf bolted to the wall.
She eyed the hammock with a mixture of curiosity and delight. It was something she had always dreamed of experiencing - the simple, almost childlike joy of sleeping suspended, rocked by the sea itself. In her privileged life, such ordinary sailor's accommodations had been a fantasy, a glimpse into a world she'd never inhabit.
She kicked off her sandals, letting them fall to the rough planked floor with soft thuds, and carefully climbed into the hammock. The fabric wrapped around her as she settled in, cocooning her in its gentle embrace. The ship's rocking motion was soothing rather than disturbing, a rhythm as ancient as the sea itself.
As she closed her eyes, surrounded by creaking wood and distant voices, the sound of waves against the hull, Ari whispered a silent prayer - to Hirako, to her mother, to anyone who might be listening. She prayed for strength. She prayed for wisdom. She prayed for the courage to face whatever awaited her across the dark waters.
And beneath all those conscious prayers lay one she barely acknowledged even to herself: Please, let me wake from this dream. Let this all be something I imagined. Let me open my eyes and find myself home.
But the rocking continued, steady and inexorable, carrying her toward a destiny that would not be denied.
It was late morning when Ari finally emerged from her cabin, pushed from sleep not by rest but by the inability to find it anymore. As she opened the door, a cool sea breeze swept in through the corridor, carrying with it the now-familiar saltiness of the ocean mixed with something else - the smell of cooking food from the galley, perhaps, or tar being applied to rope.
Frost was sitting just outside her door, a thin plume of smoke curling from the cigarette held between his fingers. The sight was somehow both surprising and not - of course he would position himself as close to her door as possible. He greeted her with a nod, stubbing out the cigarette on the wooden railing with practiced efficiency as he rose to follow.
The brightness of the day made Ari squint painfully, her eyes adjusting slowly to the dazzling sun that hung in a cloudless sky over the sparkling waters. The sea stretched endlessly in all directions - a vast, indifferent blue that made their vessel seem impossibly small and fragile. Samuel, seeing them emerge from below decks, strode over with a casual wave that seemed forced, his usual easy demeanor slightly strained.
"How was the sleep?" he asked, his tone aiming for lightness.
"Almost as good as I'd imagined," Ari replied, which was a lie but a kind one. The hammock had been comfortable enough, but her mind had raced through the night, creating and discarding dozens of scenarios for what awaited her.
"Well, the wooden beds down below weren't much of a pleasure," Samuel said with an exaggerated grimace, rubbing his lower back for theatrical effect. "I think I can feel every knot in the wood carved into my spine."
Frost's eyes narrowed slightly, his voice carrying a subtle edge of reprimand. "Land rat… This isn't a vacation. We're on duty."
The reminder pulled Samuel back from his complaints, his posture straightening slightly as professional discipline reasserted itself.
Ari glanced around, her gaze scanning the deck with its organized chaos of sailors going about their work. "Have either of you seen Mr. Arashika?"
"No sign of him," Samuel answered, gesturing vaguely toward the aft cabins. "He's probably still in his quarters, going over documents or whatever it is diplomats do when they're not diplomating."
"I haven't seen his two guards either," Ari added, her curiosity piqued by their absence. The ship wasn't that large - where could they all be?
Frost shook his head. "Yeah, I've seen them around here moving there and there, but that's about it. Don't know them personally."
"I don't even know their names. They kept to themselves during the journey." Samuel said with a shrug that conveyed both indifference and mild embarrassment at the admission.
Ari let the conversation drift away as she inhaled deeply, savoring the crispness of the sea air. It was so different from the air in Kar-Ah - no scent of flowers or incense, no cooking smells from nearby kitchens, just the pure, almost sterile smell of open water. "It's a nice breeze today."
"Yeah," Samuel agreed with notable lack of enthusiasm, casting a glance at the monotonous expanse of open sea surrounding them. "But it's boring as hell out here. There's nothing to do. Nothing to see except water and more water."
Ari chuckled, the sound surprising her with its genuineness. "Well, then you can talk, meditate, practice your forms, or trade stories. As for me, I'll read my book." She said it with a playful smirk, as if to remind them that she was more adept at finding ways to pass the time - or at least better at pretending to be occupied.
With a light bounce in her step that felt almost normal, she returned to her cabin to retrieve her book on elemental magic. When she came back on deck, Frost and Samuel had settled into a game of dice near the bow, the small wooden cubes clattering on the ship's planks with every roll, accompanied by good-natured cursing and triumphant exclamations.
Ari found a spot along the bulwark, leaning against the railing as she thumbed through the pages of her book. The wood was warm from the sun, smooth from years of sailors leaning against it just as she did now. She lost herself in descriptions of earth magic theory, of the elemental forces that could be shaped by will and understanding, trying not to think about how her mysterious savior had wielded such power without any visible runes or incantations.
The morning passed peacefully, the ship cutting through calm waters, the wind steady and favorable. Then, without warning, a powerful wave slammed into the hull with the force of a battering ram. The ship lurched sharply to one side, the deck tilting at an alarming angle.
Ari gasped as she lost her grip on the book. Before she could react, before she could even fully process what was happening, it slipped from her hands like a living thing escaping captivity. She watched in horror as it tumbled overboard, seeming to fall in slow motion before hitting the water with a small splash that was instantly swallowed by the ship's wake.
A piercing cry escaped her lips, the sound carrying across the open sea - raw, anguished, more emotional than anything she'd allowed herself to express in days. "My book!"
Frost and Samuel sprang to their feet as if launched by catapults, their dice forgotten, scattering and rolling across the tilted deck. They rushed over to her side, alarm etched clearly on their faces.
"My book!" she shouted again, her voice tinged with panic as she watched it bob on the surface for a moment before the current began carrying it further away with each passing second. The blue-gray cover was just visible against the darker blue of the sea, growing smaller, more distant, more irretrievable. "Do something!"
Frost glanced at Samuel, a silent communication passing between them. Samuel merely shook his head in resignation and sank back down onto the deck, his expression apologetic but helpless.
"There's nothing we can do," Samuel said quietly, and the finality in his voice made the loss suddenly, completely real.
Ari's desperation flared white-hot. She climbed up onto the bulwark, balancing precariously on the narrow wooden rail, reaching toward the waves as if she could somehow will the book back to her through sheer force of desire. The water churned below, dark and deep and merciless.
But Frost grabbed her firmly by the waist and pulled her down before she could lean any further, setting her back on the relative safety of the deck. His grip was strong but not harsh - protective rather than controlling.
"It's too far out now, Ari," he said with firm gentleness, though his eyes carried sympathy. "And no one's going to swim after it. The currents here are treacherous, and the water's cold. It would be suicide."
"But it's my…" Her voice broke off as she struggled to hold back tears that suddenly threatened to overwhelm her. The book had been more than just a book - it had been a link to her savior, a possibility, a hope. She could only watch helplessly as it continued to drift, carried by the current farther and farther away, until at last it sank beneath the dark blue waves, disappearing from view as completely as if it had never existed.
Ari stood there for a long moment, her hands trembling at her sides, pressed flat against her thighs as if to stop them from reaching out futilely. It was just a book - she knew that intellectually. Just paper and leather and ink. But it had represented something more, and now it was gone, claimed by the same sea that was carrying her toward her uncertain future.
The rest of the morning passed slowly, each minute feeling stretched and distorted. Ari spent her time either staring up at the drifting clouds - finding shapes in them, stories, anything to occupy her mind - or listening absentmindedly to the guards' idle chatter about training routines and garrison gossip. As the hours slipped by like water through fingers, the sting of her loss gradually dulled, becoming a manageable ache rather than an acute pain.
By noon, she even found herself joining in their dice game, throwing the small wooden cubes with a half-hearted smile. The simple, mindless game was oddly soothing - just chance and luck, no greater meaning or consequence.
It was then that the sound of wooden-soled boots tapping deliberately against the deck drew her attention. The captain descended the stairs from the helm, his steps slow and measured, his pipe sending up small puffs of smoke with each breath. He was an older man, she realized - older than she'd initially thought. Lines etched deeply into his weathered face told stories of decades at sea, and his salt-and-pepper beard had more white than dark now.
"How was the night, Miss Ninetail?" he asked, his tone gruff but not unkind.
Ari stiffened immediately, taken aback by the title. Her tail flicked against the deck in an unconscious display of irritation, the motion sharp and sudden. "It was fine, but don't call me that," she replied, her voice cooling several degrees.
The captain raised a weathered brow, genuine curiosity replacing his casual demeanor. "Is it blasphemy?" he inquired, his tone suggesting he was actually interested in the answer rather than just being polite.
"Something like that," Ari admitted, her ears twitching with residual annoyance. The title "Ninetail" was reserved for the goddess Hirako herself - using it for a mortal kitsune, even one of noble blood, bordered on sacrilege.
The captain gave a slow nod, scratching his chin as he spoke. "You'll have to pardon me, then. I'm not exactly well-versed in your religion or customs." There was no mockery in his voice, just the honest admission of someone who'd spent his life among many cultures and mastered none of their finer points.
Frost turned from the dice game, his attention shifting to the captain with the assessing gaze of someone trying to place an accent. "You're from Midori, aren't you?"
"Aye, born there," the captain answered, his voice taking on a wistful tone that spoke of places long left behind. "But the sea raised me. Now, I'm a resident of the world." He stretched his arms wide as if to embrace the sky above, the gesture both grandiose and somehow sad - a man who belonged everywhere and nowhere.
Ari, her curiosity overcoming her earlier irritation, stepped closer. "I'll accept your apology, on one condition: you have to tell me more about your travels."
The captain chuckled softly, the sound like old leather creaking. "Didn't realize I owed you one, but fine." He gestured toward the upper deck with his pipe, leaving a small trail of smoke in the air. "Come on, then. Let's talk up there, away from the dice and distraction."
Ari followed him up to the higher deck, where they took seats on a sturdy wooden bench worn smooth by years of use. Around them, sailors busied themselves with their endless tasks - adjusting ropes with practiced efficiency, mending sails with needles as long as fingers, tending to the thousand small maintenance tasks that kept a ship functional. The smell of salt and tar hung thick in the air, mingling with the captain's pipe smoke to create an oddly pleasant aromatic combination.
"So," Ari began, settling herself on the bench and arranging her skirts, "what's it like in Midori?"
The captain's response was far from what she expected. "Hel's got a firm ass," he muttered, a mischievous glint appearing in his weathered eyes.
Ari's eyes widened in shock, a flush rising to her cheeks with the heat of sudden embarrassment. "Excuse me?"
The captain let out a throaty laugh that dissolved into a brief coughing fit. "Ah, the kingdom's like any other. Plenty of boring bits - taxes and nobles and ceremonies. The sea is the same there as it is anywhere else. Water's water, whether it laps against Midori's shores or the Tundra's ice."
She regained her composure with effort, leaning forward slightly, her natural curiosity reasserting itself. "Have you ever met Queen Hel?"
The captain shrugged, his expression becoming thoughtful. "If by 'met' you mean saw her from about twenty meters away, then yes." He extended his right arm dramatically, pointing out into the distance as if she were still visible on some far horizon. "She had her knight with her - The Black Knight himself - and let me tell you, I'm not one for men, but that was a hell of a sight. Made me reconsider my preferences for a moment."
Ari's eyes sparkled with genuine excitement, the first real enthusiasm she'd shown in days. "I've always wanted to meet The Black Knight. They say he's the greatest warrior in Midori."
The captain took a long, contemplative puff from his pipe, exhaling a cloud of smoke that the wind immediately tore apart. "He's twice your height, easily," he said, pointing the pipe stem in her direction for emphasis. "His armor gleams like a polished mirror, though it's not just black - it's as if it's painted with shadows themselves. When you see him, you don't forget him. He carries presence the way other men carry swords."
"And what about his sword? Have you seen it?" Ari's voice carried an eager edge, the kind of fascination young nobles often had for legendary weapons. "I've heard it's something special - forged in dragon fire, they say, or tempered in the blood of a fallen god."
"Haven't seen the sword, no. He keeps it sheathed, from what I observed. But he's got this fancy shield strapped to his forearm gauntlet - integrated into the armor itself. Sturdy-looking thing, if you ask me. Probably saved his life more times than the sword has taken others'."
Ari's curiosity deepened, her voice taking on the tone of someone posing a hypothetical puzzle. "Who do you think would win - him or the Beast?"
The captain grinned and leaned back against the railing, clearly enjoying the theoretical combat. "Well now, that's a question. Aredina's got more muscle than Hel, for sure. Her breasts…" He hesitated, catching Ari's expression shifting, and quickly adjusted his tone with the survival instincts of someone who'd learned to read social cues. "Well, the Empress is more my type, if you're asking. Refined, you know. Dangerous in a different way."
Ari's enthusiasm waned, her shoulders slumping slightly in disappointment. "That's not what I meant."
He chuckled again, this time with a touch of self-deprecation. "You're asking the wrong person, lass. I'm a merchant sailor, not a warrior. I know knots and currents, how to read the stars and predict storms. Deciding who's stronger in a fight? That isn't exactly my field of expertise. I'd lose a finger before I could draw a blade."
Ari wasn't ready to let go of her questioning just yet. "So, have you seen anything else interesting in all your travels? Strange creatures? Lost islands? Magical phenomena?"
The captain's expression darkened subtly, like clouds passing over the sun. He took a long, deliberate draw from his pipe, his mood shifting as perceptibly as the tide. "I was raised by the sea," he said, his voice softening into something almost melancholic. "I've seen… most of the countries in the known world." He paused, seeming to weigh each word. "I've glimpsed rulers from east to west - kings and queens, emperors and empresses, warlords and high priests - all in person, all in their element."
His gaze drifted to the horizon as if trying to reach the places he spoke of, as if his eyes could somehow span the distances his body had crossed. "And yet… you ask if I have anything interesting to say?"
The momentary fire in his voice dimmed, leaving only the somber quiet of a man who had spent too long away from any place he could call home. He took another slow inhale from his pipe, letting the smoke drift away like forgotten memories, like the years that had passed beneath his feet.
"No," he finished, his voice now barely above a whisper, almost lost in the sound of waves against the hull. "I don't."
Ari watched him, the silence between them deepening into something profound and uncomfortable. It seemed that even the sea - vast as it was, full of wonders as it claimed to be - could not always satisfy the wanderer's heart. Perhaps it only deepened the longing, showing you everything while giving you nothing to hold onto.
The captain's weathered fingers drummed against the railing, and when he spoke again, his tone had shifted - becoming unusually serious, weighed down by a sadness Ari hadn't heard from him before.
"I've never been to the Tundra," he continued, staring at the endless blue stretching before them. "It's a horrible place for someone like me. I must admit - it scares me to the bone." There was no shame in his admission, only honest recognition of his limitations.
Ari tilted her head, surprised by the vulnerability. "Is it really that scary? There are people like you and me living there... It's their home."
The captain shook his head slowly, deliberately, as if the motion itself carried weight. "That's exactly it. It's their place, not mine. For me, it's a hostile land - foreign in every way that matters. The cold alone would kill me, but it's more than that. The customs, the language, the way they see the world… I wouldn't last a day." He turned to look at her directly, his eyes carrying a depth of respect she hadn't expected. "That's why I respect you, Miss Rosviel. You're braver than I am. Braver than most people I've met in forty years at sea."
Ari looked down at her feet, at the worn wooden deck beneath them, the glimmer in her eyes dimming like a candle starved of air. "I never said I wasn't afraid..." She drew in a breath that trembled slightly. "Maybe I just... haven't processed it yet. It all feels like a dream - like something happening to someone else. Like... I'll wake up, and this will all be gone."
The captain sighed heavily, a sound that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest. He took one last long pull from his pipe before tossing it overboard into the sea, watching it spin end over end before disappearing into the water - a small offering to the depths.
"In all my years," he said slowly, measuring each word, "I've only respected three women: your mother, the Empress, and Queen Hel. They're forces of nature, those three - they move the world just by existing in it." He turned to look at Ari directly, his expression solemn. "Now, Ari... you are the fourth."
He gave her a nod that felt heavier than any compliment she'd ever received. "It takes courage to become Kreaton's first legal wife - for the sake of your people, no less. To walk willingly into that kind of uncertainty, that kind of danger… I could never do that. Most men couldn't."
Ari's heart sank at his words, but something about the way he said first caught her attention like a fishhook. "First?" she repeated, her voice barely a whisper, though she wasn't certain she wanted the answer.
The captain paused on the stairs leading down from the upper deck, turning to meet her gaze one last time. His expression carried something she couldn't quite read - pity, perhaps, or warning, or simply the weariness of someone who'd seen too much of the world's darkness.
"He's had plenty of spouses before you. None of them were ever heard from again."
With that stark pronouncement, the captain descended the stairs, leaving Ari alone with her thoughts and the endless blue horizon.
The air felt heavier around her suddenly, pressing on her chest like an invisible hand. A wave of dizziness hit her - not from the ship's motion but from somewhere inside, as if her body was rejecting reality itself. Her stomach churned violently, and she clamped a hand over her mouth, fighting back the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her.
Her mind raced - thousands of thoughts colliding like ships in a storm, faster than she could grasp them, faster than she could process or organize or make sense of. None of them were ever heard from again. The words echoed, multiplying, becoming a chant that drowned out everything else.
She gripped the railing with white-knuckled intensity, each step toward the lower deck slow and deliberate, as if the ship itself might slip out from under her feet. All the morning's warmth had drained away completely, leaving only cold fear in its place - fear sharp as broken glass, cutting with every breath.
The future, once distant and abstract - something that existed only in theory - now loomed over her like an inevitable storm. The idea of never seeing her mother again struck her with the force of a physical blow. Never embracing Astra. Never teasing Farah. Never walking through their garden or praying at Hirako's shrine or sleeping in her own bed.
And Kreaton - what fate truly awaited her with him? The captain's words suggested something worse than death. Something that erased you so completely that not even rumors survived.
Ari reached her cabin door, her passage mercifully unnoticed by others. With shaky hands, she slipped inside and locked the door with fumbling fingers. She curled back into the hammock, pulling the thin blanket over herself like a child hiding from monsters, burying herself under the fabric as if it could protect her from what was coming.
The hammock swayed with the ship, rocking her with the indifferent rhythm of the sea. Her eyes fixed on a single point on the low ceiling - a knot in the wood, dark and circular, like an eye watching her.
Her mind was a tangled mess of fear and exhaustion - too frightened to sleep, too weary to think clearly, too paralyzed to act. Time slipped strangely around her: minutes stretched into hours that felt like days, while hours vanished in moments that might have been seconds. She couldn't tell anymore. The boundary between time and timelessness blurred like shorelines in fog.
She didn't respond to the soft knocks on her door - three gentle raps, then four, then persistent knocking that grew more insistent. She ignored them all, pretending she was somewhere else, someone else, anywhere but here.
When Frost finally forced the door open - not violently, but with the determined pressure of someone who knew waiting was no longer an option - her body tensed beneath the blanket. Samuel followed him in, and together they stood in the doorway of her tiny cabin, concern etched clearly in their faces.
"Ari, what's going on?" Frost asked, his voice filled with genuine worry rather than professional duty. "We're almost there - Haven's just hours away now. You've barely left your cabin in two days."
Ari remained silent, pulling the blanket tighter around herself like armor that couldn't possibly be thick enough. Only when she felt a light thunk on her head did she lower the blanket slightly, confusion breaking through her isolation.
Frost stood there holding her book - the one she'd watched sink into the depths, the one she'd mourned as lost. It was damp, the pages swollen from seawater, the leather cover darkened and warped. But it was unmistakably, impossibly there.
She sat up abruptly, the hammock swinging wildly with the sudden motion. She reached out with trembling hands and clutched the book to her chest as if it were the most precious thing in the world - and in that moment, perhaps it was. "Where did you find it?" she whispered, her voice raw from disuse and unshed tears.
"It was left outside your door sometime during the night," Frost replied with a small, puzzled shrug. "Someone must've fished it out before it drifted too far. Must've been one of the sailors - probably dove in after it when they thought no one was watching."
Ari flipped through the pages with desperate fingers, checking obsessively for damage, ensuring nothing was missing. The text was smeared in places, some pages stuck together, but it was intact. Readable. Salvageable. A weight she didn't realize she was carrying lifted slightly from her chest, though it was still not enough to clear the darkness gathering in her mind.
"I... I don't want to meet him anymore," she confessed suddenly, her voice trembling with the admission. "I want to go back home." She wrapped herself in the blanket again, as if hiding could somehow change her fate, as if making herself small enough might let her slip through the cracks of destiny.
Frost let out a long sigh and glanced back at Samuel, whose expression mirrored his own helplessness. "We'll talk to Mr. Arashika," Frost murmured quietly, more to Samuel than to Ari. "Maybe there's a way - "
But they both knew better. There was no room for negotiation, no easy way out. Treaties and alliances didn't bend for personal fear, no matter how justified. Her path was set, carved in stone by forces much larger than one girl's terror.
Not long after, she was forced - gently but firmly - to leave the dubious comfort of her hammock and prepare herself for what awaited. With her documents tucked securely under her arm and the rescued book clutched against her chest like a talisman, she followed Frost and Samuel back to the deck, her steps heavy with reluctance and resignation.
The ship rocked beneath her feet as she emerged into the afternoon sun. On the horizon, she could make out the silhouette of Valkrath growing more distinct with each passing moment - the capital of Likaon's Coast, where Kreaton waited. The city's spires and towers jutted skyward like jagged teeth against the pale blue sky, waiting to swallow her whole.
Ari gripped the railing tightly, her knuckles white, her heart pounding with each breath of salty air. This was no dream - it was all too real. The wood beneath her hands was solid. The wind in her hair was genuine. The fear in her chest was undeniable.
And soon - far too soon - she would meet the man who would seal her fate.