The air across the southern breakwater smelled of cold brine. Gull carcasses and shattered crates littered the tide line where the harbor dredged its daily waste.
"So we are improvising," Lucid said flatly.
"Essentially, yes," Celeste confirmed.
Fennwick shifted his boots on the wet gravel, glancing between Arthur, who stood rigid by the locomotive tracks, and Ayame, whose right hand hovered an inch above her scabbard. "Should we be worried? Like, actively worried, or just generally cautious worried?"
"Actively worried seems appropriate," Arthur replied.
Lucid ran a palm through his uncombed hair. Frustration mounted inside his chest alongside genuine tactical concern. Operating without a clear ledger of risks always annoyed him... especially when religious zealots were involved.
"Okay, let us think through this logically," Lucid instructed, keeping his tone level. "What do the acolytes actually need to prove a connection between me and whatever happened to Mercyros?"
"Physical evidence would be ideal for them," Celeste noted, counting the items on her gloved fingers. "Testimony from harbor witnesses. Residual fate essence signatures that might match your particular resonance pattern."
"Residual fate essence," Lucid repeated. He considered the technical implications of that phrase. "Meaning they could potentially trace things back to me through lingering energy signatures left at the vault."
He remembered his journey north on the void train weeks ago. Arthur had used a specialized brass device to scan a minor seed rift in the carriage floor and trace the energy pattern directly back to Lucid within seconds. The readings had matched his exact spiritual output without a margin for error.
However, that brass tool had been an instrument from Astral, a device that relied on manipulated fate essence to measure frequency. He doubted the church patrols carried anything similar, since the priests refused to trade with Astral or touch mechanical analyzers.
Yet that absence of machinery did not make him safe. When it came to Enlightened individuals who possessed natural sensory perception, or senior priests who had trained in disciplines resembling his own Chain of Heart perception ability, investigations became dangerous very quickly. A human bloodhound did not need a brass meter to catch a scent in the wind.
Things could turn disastrous before their train even left the coast.
Lucid exhaled through his nose and organized his thoughts into a practical sequence.
"Okay," Lucid decided, scanning the small circle of faces around him. "We need information. We need to know what exactly they are searching for, where they have already looked, and how thorough their investigation has been so far."
"I can make inquiries at the port authority," Celeste volunteered. "Though I will need to exercise caution. Overt interest in their investigation might itself draw unwanted suspicion toward our carriage."
"Understood," Lucid acknowledged. "Do what you can without exposing yourself to unnecessary risk. Check the harbor logs first."
Celeste nodded once. Her expression hardened as she calculated the administrative logistics of the harbor office.
Arthur cleared his throat and inspected the iron railway line that stretched north toward the marshlands. "In the meantime, perhaps we should consider our immediate departure. Our mission is a success, is it not?"
Lucid looked at the knight. "Yes... unless something blows up again."
"Please do not jinx it," Arthur muttered.
They waited in silence by the tracks.
Nothing exploded. No sirens sounded from the upper harbor docks.
A large green shore crab crawled out from a gap between two salt-stained boulders and scuttled across the wet pebbles toward Lucid's boots. Its claws clicked rhythmically against the stone.
'Are your crab-eating tendencies flaring up again?' Alice asked from the recesses of his mind.
'What?' Lucid thought back defensively. 'It is good protein. Do not judge my survival habits.'
Fennwick met Lucid's eyes for a brief moment and offered a faint, respectful nod of farewell. Celeste turned away from the tracks, accompanied by her small retinue of administrative aides who had been waiting near the cargo cranes.
Lucid watched their dark coats disappear behind a stack of shipping crates before he turned back to his own crew.
Arthur brushed his leather gloves with an oily rag he had pulled from his belt. "Well, I am done with the exterior checks. Let us head inside the temporary railway carriage and wait."
"Temporary?" Lucid asked.
Arthur looked at him with an expression of mild condescension. "Well, a celestial rail does not descend all the way down toward Port Vexis."
"It does not?"
"In the capitals and busy northern areas, yes," Arthur explained, pointing a thumb upward toward the cloud layer. "But we had to descend manually from the sky dock."
Lucid recalled the towering sky docks he had seen from the bay earlier that week. They seemed to operate their own artificial waterfalls that dropped hundreds of feet straight down into the harbor basins. Travelers used small ferry vessels and hydraulic elevators to descend from the upper transit lines. No heavy void rails actually ran across the ground level of Port Vexis.
"Alright then," Lucid conceded. "I will head inside."
He grabbed the heavy brass handle of the carriage door and slid it open. The familiar interior of the locomotive lounge greeted him. The space smelled of upholstery polish, dry timber, and coal smoke.
Then his boots stopped on the threshold.
Someone was sitting on the leather bench in the corner of the lounge.
Lucid inspected the intruder.
A dark cap sat pulled low over the person's brow. Bright yellow hair spilled out from beneath the brim, catching the dim interior light. As the door clicked open, the figure looked up and offered a slow, chilling smile.
"Who is there?" Arthur called out from behind Lucid's shoulder.
Lucid relaxed his shoulders, but a deep sense of resentment settled in his stomach.
"Hello, Valen," Lucid greeted.
The yellow-haired young man flipped a silver coin high into the air, caught it with a sharp slap against his palm, and tilted his head.
"Oh, did you forget about me?" Valen sang out, his tone dripping with theatrical affection.
"You are not supposed to be here," Lucid stated.
Arthur stepped into the doorway, crossing his arms beside Lucid to block the narrow aisle. "Did you not get your relic already? If so, we have no more business with each other."
Valen looked at Lucid with intense scrutiny, completely ignoring the knight.
"Business?" Valen repeated softly.
His eyes seemed to glow with an ominous yellow light in the shadows of the carriage. That flicker promised nothing pleasant, and Lucid knew exactly why the thief was staring at him with such focused malice.
Valen was Pilt. He had operated under that alias for months, and during their last encounter down in the lower districts, Pilt had uttered several unforgettable insults. There was no mistaken identity here, and neither of them had forgotten the hostility traded in the mud.
Suddenly, Valen's face brightened. The chilling intensity vanished behind a mask of cheerful helplessness.
"Oh, I am only here because I would like to go home," Valen explained, gesturing broadly at the empty carriage seats.
"Then buy a train ticket," Lucid advised.
"Well, I cannot," Valen sighed, slouching back against the leather cushions. "I have no money left, and I am completely stranded here in the south, you see."
He looked up at Lucid through his yellow bangs.
"Say, Lucid," Valen purred. "Are you not from Tyriana?"
Lucid did not answer.
"Do you not believe that one person should always help another in need?" Valen continued, his voice dripping with mock innocence. "That is the foundational principle of Tyriana, is it not?"
Arthur looked sideways at Lucid. "Just because your hometown preaches charity does not mean you necessarily have to practice it on criminals."
He shook his head disgustedly at the thief on the bench. "Besides, we do not have space for another passenger."
"There are two floors to this carriage," Valen argued, rising from the bench and inching closer to Arthur. "You have plenty of room for one more."
Arthur shoved Valen's face away with a single, hard push of his palm. "Get away from me, you freak," the knight hissed through his teeth.
Ayame stepped into the doorway behind them, her pale eyes taking in the altercation without surprise. She walked past Arthur and stood beside Lucid.
"He is marked by divine essence," Ayame observed bluntly. "The church patrols will find him within the hour if he stays on the streets."
'But why should that concern us?' Alice asked inside Lucid's mind, her voice turning cold and sharp. 'You saw this mortal's behavior in the slums. He insulted you.'
'He said he hated you,' Alice continued, her tone drawing closer and feeling almost intimate against his thoughts. 'And any hatred directed against you, Lucid, I consider a personal insult against me as well. Throw him out to the priests.'
Lucid shook his head slightly, pushing Alice's voice to the back of his mind. He addressed Valen directly.
"What can you do?" Lucid asked. "I do not just bring people with me for free."
Arthur looked at Ayame, then back at Lucid with a questioning expression. "Why are you asking him that? We have Ayame, she is already a better fighter than you are. We do not need another blade."
Lucid looked offended for a fraction of a second.
Ayame looked at Lucid with her usual flat expression. "You cannot wield a sword properly."
'Arthur is more rational than you are,' Lucid thought back to her.