Throughout the morning, prior to Mikey having woken up, Lazarus, Liza and Galliard spent their time preparing the ship for departure under Lady's guidance, stacking up on the supplies the crew had ploughed through over the past month at sea.

By the time Mikey had woken up, the ship was ready for departure. For the moment it was anchored just outside of the bay. Though prepared to depart, the Blackjack had not yet set a course or destination.

Once Mikey had equipped the appropriate apparel, he approached Adendé at the forecastle of the ship, intent on asking the questions he was promised answers for.

"You're patient. I expected you to bombard me with more questions than you had yesterday," Adendé would comment, hearing Mikey's approach as he meditated with his face towards the sea.

"I wasn't sure how I might react to something like," Mikey paused to make the term seem more dramatic, " an Underworld Token."

"You jest, but it could be the very thing that pulls your soul from your throat, only to leave you choking in your desperation to live," Adendé commented as he stood up from his meditative position. Mikey's head tilted up, as he'd forgotten just how tall the masked behemoth was. "An Underworld Token is a spiritual allowance, as in they're allowing you to live. Your parents, either your mother or father, are taking part in circumstances which have turned them into spiritual containers. Sometimes these circumstances can be strong enough to not only affect those that take part, but also their entire bloodline. This Underworld Token grants you a fraction of their abilities - it's most likely the reason that repulsive spirit has shown up on the ship."

"Spiritual allowance… an entire bloodline? Wait, I don't understand. What abilities exactly? You're not talking about my magic are you?" Mikey asked, looking at his hands.

"No. Magic is a completely separate case. Underworld Tokens manifest in different ways. Where your magic is something that you either inherit or learn, Underworld Tokens work more like contracts. Some are more prominent than others. Some work more like a curse - others, a blessing." Adendé continued to explain as he looked out to the sea. Mikey's expression had only grown more puzzled. "What we'll need to find is a specialist. Someone who deals a bit more thoroughly with this type of thing. Frankly, I lack the care for the details required to properly deal with this. Fortunately for you, I know three that'll work."

"A specialist? And I don't suppose these specialists or whatever happen to be here in San Lenard," Mikey responded as he looked back to the city.

"There's one in the mining city of Pares, Eastern Kyberia. That'll be the longest trip - we'd have to be well prepared for the snow. We'd disembark on the Southern shore and make our way North over the mountains," Adendé began to explain, leaving space for Mikey's input.

"Well, I've never seen the snow before, so there's that. But that's a journey I don't think we're prepared to take.

Lady Blackjack materialised beside Mikey, her uncanny dress and hair flowing against the wind.

"I cannot assist you through the mountains," she commented as Adendé looked at her. His mask hid his expression, though he spoke his distaste through the silence.

"Lady's right. She's too big of a help to leave behind, so what else have you got?" Mikey asked, looking back from the town and to Adendé.

"The second is Jorgansol, one of th-" Adendé began to explain, but was swiftly interrupted by Mikey.

"No," Adendé turned his head slowly towards Mikey after the rude interruption. "Don't they eat people there? We're talking about the same Jorgansol, right?"

The Jorgansol plains were a great savannah of dried grass. Stories were passed down that they raped and cannibalised enemy tribes. In recent history, the tribes of Jorgansol were notorious for pillaging Kyberian settlements to the South.

"Cut me off again and I'll hook your balls to the anchor next time it drops. Now. One of the tribes on the coast has a veteran warlock, La'Qashur. We'd be there and be able to leave at the first sight of danger," Adendé continued, as Mikey seemed reluctant to agree. He hummed to himself in thought, stroking his chin.

"Alright, then what's the third option?" Mikey asked politely, adjusting his tone, as a brief sea breeze blew through his hair.

"We meet an old friend, Charles. He's perhaps one of the most cunning individuals you could meet. But it's that cunning of his that makes him the most difficult to track down. I lost his location some time ago," Adendé began to elaborate. "We'll have to begin North of Zeal Mar Keistar, in Ludecious."

"Ludecious? That means going all the way back to Des Maron, that's… well that's frustrating. And this friend of yours will help me?"

"Never said they will, that's up to them. They could take you to tea for all I care," Adendé replied, moving back to his place on the floorboards and sitting with his legs crossed. "I'm only here to lead you to them. Make your decision when you're ready."

"I'll speak with the others, they'll have some idea of what to do…" Mikey turned away from Adendé, his heart skipping from the uncertainty. He looked down the stretch of the deck, his gaze searching for an idea on what to do. That's when he noticed Lazarus, leaning against the centre mast and facing Mikey. He was close enough to listen into the conversation with Adendé. Mikey leaned on the forecastle's railing and looked down over the main deck.

"So what do you think we should do then, Laz?" Mikey asked, hiding his excitement at moving into a nickname basis with Lazarus. His voice was stern and serious, trying to impress the new crew member. "You have any ideas?"

"Ludecious has less luck than a game of poker with a clairvoyant. The moment you get there you've got eyes on you, and we don't even know where this Charles is." Lazarus replied as he flipped a coin in his hand, trailing it as it flew up and fell down. "Then there's Pares. You'd be better off relying on fresh shit to keep you warm in the crow's nest than try and survive those mountains. I've seen the frostbite on veterans and immigrants from Kyberia passing through the island, it's straight out of a horror story. That's not to mention the countless monsters and legends that are known to roam about."

"So you suggest the cannibal park? Jorgansol is just as much a death trap as the others," Mikey shook his head, seeing Galliard approaching from behind Lazarus and stopping beside him. He folded his arms as he looked back and forth between the pair.

"My vote's on whatever is easiest. I heard something about Kyberia, that bitch is cold. I vote the other place," Galliard insisted, sighing at even the thought of traversing through the mountains.

"Liza votes the same, she told me just, uh, now. Just now."

"So what'll the 'other place' be then Mikey? That pretty clearly crosses off Kyberia," Lazarus inquired, his brow raising as he awaited an appropriate answer.

"Where exactly is this tribe Adendé?" Mikey questioned over his shoulder.

"The West Coast, not far from the Kyberian border," he responded, remaining in his meditative position.

"How long will that take us to reach Lady?" Mikey summoned her forth yet again, as this time she rose out from the floor.

"A week at speed," she answered.

"A week? It should take almost two weeks to reach the main continent." Lazarus' eyes widened as he looked to the spirit. "You can cut that trip in half?"

"That's assuming you've manned the ship with a living crew," Lady responded. "I lack their mortality and limited stamina."

"We then that settles it. Set course for Jorgansol when you're ready Lady," Mikey vaulted over the railing of the forecastle and onto the main deck. "We're off to meet some savages."

After finishing his conversation with the men, he was intent on heading to the captain's quarters where he presumed Gisla was. However, he stopped himself as he looked out to San Lenard one last time. The clanking of the anchor's chains drummed in Mikey's ears.

"I wonder what Liam is up to, it's already been a month,' he thought to himself, a nostalgic smile appearing across his lips. 'I bet he'd love to see all of this. Maybe I'll bring him along once we sort this token stuff out.'

Mikey looked back away from the island city as the Blackjack dropped its sails. He let off a small chuckle as continued on his way to Gisla.

'Perhaps I'll adopt him, wouldn't that be hilarious? Clean the floors, son. Get me some food, son.'

Mikey entered the captain's quarters without a hint of politeness or grace, swinging the door open enough to create a bang without breaking glass.

"Goooooooood morning Gisla!" he yelled out as he strolled over to her desk.

It held a more approachable presentation than last he saw, the towers being demolished and replaced with a singular pile of four books. Gisla leaned against it, impatiently waiting with the signature clacking of her heels.

"Where are we headed? The ship's started moving again," Gisla asked, though her tone was rather demanding.

"Now that doesn't matter right now, what matters is that you are having a good morning. Are yah?" Mikey asked, placing his hands on the table with both of his brows raised to hear her out.

"Hmmm… it's not going as ba-" she'd begun her reply when Mikey picked up one of the books and talked over her.

"Just kidding, don't care. What magic are you going to be showing me today?" he asked without looking up from his book

"Asshole," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

"You've got four options. One is quirky, one sucks, the other two do big crazy boom things. Take your pick then fuck off."

"Woah, woah, woah! What's the hostility for, lady?", Mikey asked, as a ghostly figure flew through the walls and into the quarters.

"You called for me?" Lady Blackjack asked, floating just behind Mikey.

"What? No, wrong lady. Go do… ship, stuff," he said with a dismissive gesture, sending her floating off in the direction she'd come. "Anyway."

"Anyway what? There is no anyway," Gisla retorted with the curling of her lips that Mikey had grown accustomed to.

"Fine, fine, fine. Hope you're having a nice day, please do explain to me the four books you've prepared."

"Hmph, better," Gisla chuffed, looking back to the books as Mikey dropped the one he had back onto the pile. "There's one that's labelled 'Jet Tempest', it's some sort of transportation spell as far as I can tell. There's an unlabeled one which I've worked the conjuration method for, but I've no clue as to what it does exactly. It looked fun. Another is labelled 'Charity', it's a bit confusing but I've some idea how it works. I'd need to test it on you."

"And the final one?" Mikey asked, nodding his head along approvingly as he heard the brief descriptions.

"The final one is labelled 'Onyx Grip.' It looks fun, but we'll have to wait till night to use it - at least that's what it recommends," Gisla continued, gesturing to the black covered book as Mikey asked.

"Are we not going to be able to run through all of these over the week?" he asked as his fingers ran over the bindings of the books.

"Well of course. But what do we start with? You ought to begin right away," she answered again. Gisla's butt had basically pressed her imprint into the chair at the desk, her elbows rubbing marks into where she always rested them. She was eager to finally get out of the room.

"What do I start with? Do I have to do this much planning for everything as a captain?" Mikey stretched his arms out with a puff of lethargy. "Whoopty Doo."