The weight lying on Ren’s back moves, and Penny’s voice leaves her throat in a drowsy rumble. Ren glances back, ignoring the way the wind tousles his hair and blows into his eyes. It’s been a while since Triton’s set off from the bottom of the ocean, the Horseman’s palace, and is now heading towards Calysso. Vane and Gridel are seated nearer its tail, while Clemon and Isla enjoy each other’s company in the middle.

“Looks like you’re finally up, sleepyhead,” Ren says, as he leans forward on Triton’s scales. Penny lifts her head from where it rested on his shoulders.

“Wait, what?” Penny squeaks, and she almost falls off the serpent, her arms tightening around Ren’s middle. “Wha-What? Where the hell are we?”

“Heading back to Calysso,” Ren says. Back to warm food, to a warm bed, and dry land, he thinks dreamily. He would be glad never to see the sea ever again after this. After participating in a war between a pirate clan and a commodore ship, surviving a mermaid raid, being kidnapped to and breaking out of a Selkie tribe, and defeating the Horseman of War, he’s probably had enough of the ocean for a lifetime.

“Wait, what happened to the Horseman? I got hit by some kind of light and—” Penny yawns and Ren chuckles.

“Essentially, you were infected by some kind of warmongering spell. You turned on us and started attacking us.”

Penny’s eyes widen. “Are you serious? No way. You’re kidding.” She purses her lips. “But if it’s true, I’m sorry for… you know, whatever damage I caused. Everything.”

Ren shakes his head. “Nah, it’s fine. Clemon and Isla were the ones who subdued you. But man, you were way better with a dagger when you were under that spell than not. We killed his heart, and then the spell lifted.”

“Oh.” Ren can almost hear the pout in Penny’s voice. “I wanted to be the one to rid the Horseman of his heart this time.”

“You could kill the next one. Next time, though. For now, we’re going back to Calysso, and we’re deciding what to do from there.”

Penny hums. “I wanted to ask this for a while now, but could you explain what we’re doing on this dragon?”

Triton chortles. “I’m not a dragon, my lady. My name is Triton.”

“Triton? Wait, aren’t you—”

Ren nods. “He’s a good guy now.”

“I express my deepest remorse, my lady.” Triton speaks in a tone so low that his whole body trembles, and Ren can feel the vibrations against his legs. “I was not myself when we first met. The Horseman of War had me in his throes.”

“Throes? Of what?” Penny asks. This was a question that weighed heavily on Ren’s mind too. Just who or what is Triton, and how did the Horseman put him under his spell?

“I was Aquarius’ first general, Triton of the Seas,” the serpent says. “This was, of course, when we were still human, before the fall of Heliola.”

Heliola. That name again. The city that Ignis ruled over, according to Betty’s version of the legend.

“What does Heliola have to do with you being a spirit?” Penny asks.

“As you know, spirits were human before death, and after death, they may make their home in whatever item they wish to possess. That is, anything that isn’t alive,” Triton says. “Heliola’s fall signed all our death warrants.”

Ren tilts his head. “Wait, so you’re a spirit, and you’re currently possessing… Aren’t you a sea serpent and not a human?”

“No, this is the corpse of my dear friend who died alongside me, Leviathan.” Triton chuckles. “Let me tell you this: riding on Leviathan and slaying my foes whilst they looked on in fear was an experience most satisfying.”

Ren can imagine. He’d rather not be facing down one of these giant snakes when he’s out sailing on the seas. Though, he has to wonder…

“What do you mean, foes?” Penny asks, beating him to it. “Wasn’t Zenthos supposed to be peaceful before the apocalypse?”

“It was, mostly, but we had the occasional rogue,” Triton says. “On the whole, Ignis reigned as a compassionate yet strong emperor, and all corners of Zenthos flourished under his rule.”

“But that was two hundred years ago, right? And this whole time, you were being controlled by the Horseman?”

“Indeed. Against his hold, the strength of my will could not compare. He descended upon me, and he left me no time to retaliate or resist. Even if I could, I doubt that I could have kept it up for long.”

“Well, at least you’re back to normal now,” Penny says. “And you get to meet Aquarius again.”

Triton laughs. “I have always been by His Majesty’s side. I never leave the water now, after all.”

That’s right. Ren completely forgot about the fact that Aquarius is the very waters itself, the lifeblood of so many creatures in Ilecthia. It rather makes Ren wonder what the world was like before the apocalypse. Were there spirits as well, in charge of maintaining the order of these elements? Or was there another natural power at play?

“I see it,” Triton declares. “The waterfront town.”

Peering past the serpent’s massive head, Ren does spy Calysso in the distance, with its fleets of boats and ships, looking as quaint as ever. It’s a sight for sore eyes, truly, and Ren has had fond memories of the place.

But… what is he going to tell the people at the Market? That their leader is gone? Or would Aquarius have already informed them?

He guesses, though, that they’d cross that bridge when they come to it. Once they touch down on the pier, they’ll think of something.

*

A crowd has gathered at the jetty with the farthest reach, greeting Ren and the others as they alight from Triton’s back. The serpent bids them a hearty farewell, then sinking into the waves and becoming naught more than a dark shadow in the waters.

“Welcome back. I knew you had it in you.”

That voice! Ren’s jaw drops, staring down at the girl leading the crowd who greets them. Betty appears unharmed in every way, still in her familiar sailor’s outfit and her captain’s hat. She stands with her hands behind her back, a wry smile on her face.

“I thought you had…” Penny trails off, her voice cracking. “I thought you…”

Betty nods. “I’m alive and kicking. You should never underestimate the tenacity of us water nymphs.”

Ren smiles. It’s a pleasant surprise, after believing the whole time that their friend had fallen victim to the Selkies. That said, she could have just transformed into water and swim back to Calysso. Probably.

“Well, it looks like you guys had a rough time,” Betty says. She turns to the citizens of Calysso, from the Marketplace or aboveground, and jerks her chin in the direction of the town. “Let’s be getting back now. Some hot food in those tummies would do you some good.”

The citizens give a cheer, whooping and screaming for the Luminaries as they are paraded through town. Ren waves, and Penny thanks them all for their support. He spots the barmaid, the one they met when they first arrived at Calysso, Bart, the cartographer, and even the guardsman of the Marketplace.

It feels good to be back, amongst merry company and the promise of safety.

*

Celebrations lasted for a long, long time, and it was some time, after an amazing feast, that they could retire to their room. For Ren, it’s been too long since he’s slept on a bed, that’s for sure. He excuses himself from the tavern, prepared to head back to his room in the Marketplace, in Betty’s residence. She left a while earlier too, so he wouldn’t be trespassing, would he?

When Ren exits the establishment, the saloon doors swinging behind him, he catches sight of two people, standing at the pier. From their statures, they look like… Betty and Isla? What an odd combination. What are they doing out here all alone?

Ren ducks, crouching behind a barrel as he watches them. Betty holds a cutlass loosely between her fingers, but Isla is empty-handed. Both of them wear serious expressions, their mouths moving, though their voices are so soft that Ren can only heart he barest of snippets.

“It’s time for you to repay the favour,” Betty says, offering up the cutlass to Isla. “I killed your father, caused disturbance in your tribe, barred you from going back to your home, all for a personal vengeance. It’s in your best interests to reciprocate.”

Reciprocate?

Isla stares at the cutlass for the longest time. Betty waves it in front of her face, as if urging her on. “Come on. I’m sure revenge has been on your mind for quite a while now. I’ve fulfilled my life’s purpose, and I would gladly die if it would make you feel better, even if it’s just a tiny bit.”

Ren moves to stand, about to reveal himself and his eavesdropping tendencies (but it’ll be better than watching one of his friends die to the hands of another). However, before he can, Isla grabs the cutlass. In one swift move, she hurls it to the ground, the sword clattering on the stone pier.

Betty looks at it, an eyebrow raised. She turns back to Isla, silent, as if waiting for an explanation. Isla clenches her fists, lips pulled back into a frown, bordering on a snarl. She meets Betty’s gaze with an unmatched intensity.

“No more deaths,” Isla says. “Although, I cannot forgive you for what you did to my father and myself, and my tribe. And to destroy a whole community for your vengeance, it was selfish.”

Betty lowers her gaze. “Yeah, it was, but I don’t regret it at all.”

“My father took the life of your sister as well. I don’t know what happened, or why he did it, but… I can understand why you murdered him.”

“And?”

“This senseless fighting? I’m next in line to bear the burden of revenge, but I’m going to stop it here,” Isla says. “You may have killed my father, but I will not return the favour. War and conquest do not stop with the Horseman’s death. It stops with us.”

A smile grows on Betty’s face. “That’s a pretty profound thing to say. Your show of mercy… I will always remember it. Calysso will always be open for you, Isla.”

Isla shakes her head. “I may not want to sully my hands with the blood of my enemy, but that does not mean that I am willing to live alongside the woman who slaughtered my father. Come tomorrow, I will be setting sail for a colony far from here, and I doubt I would come back to Ilecthia anytime soon.”

Betty nods. “That’s fair.” She shuffles over to the cutlass on the ground, and she picks it up, sliding it back into its sheath. “Well then, shall we go? We should be getting some sleep, and you’re going to be needing your strength for the journey ahead.”

With that, Ren takes it as his cue to leave. He scampers out of his hiding spot, hoping that neither Betty nor Isla saw him. Well, they probably did, but he’d like to think that they respectfully ignored his spying.

The fight against war has truly ended. Tomorrow, they’re leaving Calysso for good, and Ren can only wonder where their adventure takes them next.

*

“Okay, so between Ruk’vahn and Frosgott, Frosgott has got to be nearer,” Bart says. The old brownie spreads a map of Zenthos out on a barrel. The group has gathered on the pier, just by Betty’s second and third finest ships, after Calysso’s Soul. “If you don’t want to go past Triclaw Isles, I’m sad to say, but you’re going to have to make a rather long detour.”

“And the trip to Triclaw took us about a week or so,” Betty says. “This one would be three times as long.”

“Could we call upon Triton for his help?” Penny asks. “I mean, we did save him from forced servitude. We could, uh, milk him for his gratitude or something?”

Ren sighs. “I don’t think that’s something that should be coming out of a Luminary’s mouth.”

Penny purses her lips.

“Nah, we’ll just ask Aquarius,” Betty says. “He’s the spirit of water. I’m sure he’d be able to make our ships go faster.” She turns to Clemon and Isla. “Then, I guess you guys would be heading back to Gravelle?”

Clemon nods. “Yeah.”

“In that case, let Bart go with you. He may not look it, but he was an excellent sailor in his time.”

Bart harrumphs, tapping his cane against the stone of the pier. “Really now. Flattery gets you nowhere, young lady.”

Betty grins. “It’s a well-deserved compliment. I’ll be going with the Luminaries, and we’ll be headed to Frosgott. I’ll be back in another two weeks, probably. Depends on how Aquarius is feeling.”

They board the ship, and Ren and Penny wave goodbye to the citizens of Calysso as the vessel begins to move. Betty, Vane, and Gridel tend to the ropes and sails, and the ship lurches as the waves roll violently. Aquarius must have taken the reins, some of His might having returned after the Horseman has been eliminated.

The ships travel in opposite directions, away from each other. Penny jumps and waves at Isla, and Clemon, even as they become smaller and smaller, and Ren can no longer make out the details on their faces. The wind picks up, the gale pulling their sails taut and pushing them towards their destination.

To the snowy land of Frosgott, they go.

*

A week passes by in a flash, much faster than the trip to Triclaw Isles. They wove and swerved past smaller islands, taking a route that winds around where Isla’s Selkie tribe made their home. The ice floe that precedes the tundra comes into view, with its pine trees and layered canopies covered in snow.

The rush of an icy draught hits Ren like a brick. His skin tingles with goosebumps and a shiver runs up his spine. He is racked with a sudden bout of sneezes, and flinches at the hot mucus flowing through his nostrils and running down to his lip.

“You doing good there?” Penny calls from where she’s steering the ship. Or, rather, pretending to steer the ship, while Aquarius is doing all the work.

“Yeah,” Ren calls back, hugging his arms tighter against himself. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Perhaps you might want to go back to the cabins,” Gridel suggests, “and keep Vane company.”

Vane’s been holed up in the cabins since Frosgott came into view and the frosty winds started to whip up. Whilst Ren is the exact same way—being the type of guy who prefers summer to winter—it’s hard to remain upbeat when he’s stuck in a stuffy room the whole day, so he often comes up to the deck. Although, being wrapped up in a warm quilt, snuggled up to a fluffy pillow is something that Ren desperately needs at the moment.

“We’ll go get you when we dock,” Betty says, before Ren disappears into the cabin and closes the door behind him with a click. He breathes a sigh of relief, soaking in the warmth of the ship’s interior, away from the bite of the wind.

It’s easier to find the cabins in a smaller vessel like this, with a distinct lack of winding and twisting corridors. Soon, he comes to a narrow hallway flanked by doors. He walks over to the one to Vane’s room and raps his knuckles on it. “Hey. Vane? You in?”

No response. Ren frowns. Did he leave for the kitchen or something? Ren is about to call again when the door swings open, and Vane appears on the other side. It’s rather strange to see him without all that chainmail, and instead in a white singlet and a pair of grey harem pants. He holds his hands behind him, shoulders tensed. Ren purses his lips, wondering why the man’s got to be so uptight all the time. To the point where he’s getting used to Vane’s piercing glare—it doesn’t faze him as much now as it did so many weeks ago.

“You called, Master Ren?”

“Yeah. Just wondering what you’re up to.”

“Is there a fight on our hands?”

“Nah. I’m just bored and I’m nosy.”

Vane glances away for a moment, as if trying to process this information.

“You know, you’d usually invite someone in if—”

Vane bows his head. “Of course. It is not much, but…”

“It’s fine. All our rooms are the same size and have the same things,” Ren says with a dismissive wave. “We’re literally no different on this ship.”

Vane opens his mouth—presumably to protest—but he decides against it and closes his mouth. Instead, he steps aside and lets Ren in. Indeed, the room is similar to Ren’s, but the bed is made and Vane’s set of armour is stashed in a corner. That, and Claymore rests on the sheets, but it’s not the Claymore that Ren knows.

“Wait.” Ren’s eyes widen, staring at the sword. “Is your sword…” Half the sword’s blade is missing, and where it is broken, remains only a jagged edge.

Vane’s gaze follows his. “Yes. Claymore is, at the moment, indisposed. I visited the blacksmith back in Calysso, in the hopes that he could fix it, but alas, the job proved too great for him to undertake. He told me to take it to a man named Ripwael, who apparently lives in a town called Beville somewhere in Frosgott.”

“We’ll go look for this Ripwael, then, when we can. We’re going there anyway,” Ren says. “If we can. So… do you have a backup weapon, or…?”

“Claymore’s spirt remains. The weapon is merely damaged, and not obliterated,” Vane bites out. “Unfortunately, I am unable to contribute to combat situations to my fullest. For that, I must offer my most heartfelt apologies in advance.”

“Oh, no. It’s fine,” Ren says. He’s not planning on fighting with the broken Claymore, is he? Or, like, his fists. Man, what Ren wouldn’t give to see that. He would be pretty hot now, wouldn’t it? “We can handle it.”

“Yes, but…” Vane presses his lips together. “It would not be… ideal to be protected by the people I’m supposed to be protecting.”

“Maybe not, but it’ll just be for a little while,” Ren says. “Till we manage to get Claymore fixed right up.”

Vane grunts.

“So, what’ve you been doing here all alone?” Ren looks over at the tiny, circular window fitted with a piece of glass. “Surely not looking out to the ocean?”

“Watching the fish is calming.”

Ren has no idea how the man can say that with a straight face. Or with a hint of indignance. “Was that all you were doing?”

“Other than lamenting the loss of my contributions to battles in the near future? Very much so.”

Ah, so he’s been in here feeling sorry for himself, has he?

“You know, I still don’t know anything about you,” Ren says. He gestures to the bed, and Vane gives him permission to sit, though the prince himself remains standing. “You’re the prince of Gravelle, right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“And you’re a… historian of sorts, too?”

“Yes.”

This conversation is going nowhere fast. “So, you’re good at history?”

“I know as much as the books teach me. That is, I’m more familiar with the history of Gravelle and Heliola,” Vane says. “If you ask me about the mythologies and legends surrounding Ilecthia, Frosgott, or Ruk’vahn, I could not give you an answer.”

“You know, Penny likes these kinds of stories too,” Ren says. “She’s always talking about them at school. It gets annoying sometimes, but it’s hard to shut her down when she’s so passionate about it.”

“I see. On that vein, what do you like?”

The question catches Ren off guard. “Huh?”

“Lady Penny has been accompanying me on trips to libraries and archives in order to learn about the history of our world. I do know how deeply her interest runs. However, I have yet to learn anything about yourself, Master Ren.”

“Oh, uh…” Ren fidgets with the hem of his sleeve. “That’s a little… I mean, I don’t get asked that question very often.”

“And why not?”

“Because…” Ren can’t bring himself to meet Vane’s gaze. Which is rather penetrating, to be fair. “I usually spend all my time studying, and I follow Penny out on her excursions sometimes, and… yeah, I don’t really have an interest that I can call a hobby.”

“Nothing you enjoy doing?”

Ren sighs. “Well, maybe there is something, but I’ve never actually thought about it before.”

“Then, perhaps, after the world has been returned to normal, you could explore various activities that you may be passionate about. Gridel would be more than happy to teach you archery, and Her Majesty is well-versed in the art of tea brewing.”

Tea brewing? If even someone as busy as Queen Elvira is good at something like tea brewing, then Ren can’t stand to lose out now, can he? Still—

“I could even impart unto you the techniques of giant mole wrangling, if you would like to try it out.”

Giant mole wrangling? Ren has no idea what that is, and he’s not sure he wants to get invested in what sounds like such a violent… pastime.

Vane chuckles, the first mirthful sound that Ren’s heard from him for a while. “Indeed, others had similar reactions to that particular passion of mine.”

“Wait, do you actually go finding moles to wrestle?”

“Wrangle. They are a good source of fur in wintry months,” Vane says. “When I was but a child, I saw Farmer Bilva wrangle giant moles for the first time. And then, I was instantly taken with the sport.”

“So, it’s a sport? I thought it was—”

“It certainly didn’t start out that way.” Vane’s eyes twinkle. “It was simply a technique to rear giant moles in a farm. However, it is more entertaining than it looks. Gravelle’s farming circle holds mole-wrangling competitions once a month.”

Imagine holding a competition for the wrangling of sheep. Would people find that fun to watch? “Have you ever participated in it?”

“Once or twice. It is difficult for me to leave the castle without informing His or Her Majesty.”

“You sneak out sometimes too, huh? Never pegged you for the type.”

Vane flushes, the red evident on his pale cheeks. “I don’t do it often, I’ll have you know. Only once a month. And I never leave when I have royal duties to attend to.”

“Yeah, about that,” Ren says. “Is it alright for you to continue travelling with us? Aren’t you next in line to take the throne or something?”

“This is more important. I wish to see each Horseman slain, and the citadel fall,” Vane says, with a sharpness in his voice that wasn’t there a few seconds prior. “If you spare it a thought, escorting the Luminaries to various corners of Zenthos to slay the Horsemen is a way in which I choose to serve my country. Should all the Horsemen be eliminated and Zenthos be returned to its original state, then the colony of Gravelle would be safe from further threat.”

Ren hums. “Well, that’s true. I didn’t think of it that way.”

A series of knocks on the door interrupts their conversation.

“Vane? Ren?” Gridel says. “We’re almost at Frosgott. It’s time to disembark.”

Wow. Time flew by fast, and now they have to go up to the deck and brave the winds. Gridel’s footsteps fading into the distance, and Ren turns back to Vane, who wears the most disgruntled expression on his face.

“What’s wrong? Can’t stand the cold?” Ren asks.

“I’d rather not fall sick,” Vane says. He reaches into his drawer and picks out a cloak made of animal fur. He holds it out to Ren, who tilts his head in confusion. “This article of clothing should keep you warm. To a certain extent.”

“Technically, I have one in my room. You can use this piece,” Ren says. God knows Vane would need it. “I’ll just go get mine.”

Vane purses his lips, but lets Ren go anyway. The latter exits the room and shuts the door behind him, before hurrying to his own quarters to grab his fur coat. To adventure in the dagger-like winds of Frosgott, he would most definitely need as much protection as he can get.