The boards creaked back and forth in harmony with the nauseating sway of the ship. Dribbling down Billy’s left cheek, a ball of spit dropped several feet from the top bunk onto the grimy wooden floor.

With an unpleasant creak, the wooden door swung open, making a large thunk as the iron knob hit the inner wall.

“Billy! We’re almost there! I can see the coastline.” Damian’s excited face hovered above Billy, who had not eaten in several days, or at least not had any of the food actually reach his belly. Billy scrunched his nose as the smell of fish, grime and salt awakened it. Slowly sliding off the bed, he latched onto the frame nervously as the ship tilted to one side.

Finally getting his feet planted on the ground, Billy wiped his eyelids with the back of his left hand. “Can’t fucking sleep at sea," he said, dilly-dallying toward the doorway.

“C’mon, you gotta look, it’s beautiful," Damian said, wrapping an arm around his friend’s torso. Billy swatted it away.

“Fine.”

Billy hobbled up the stairs, squinting and covering his eyes with his hands as the blistering light shot through his barrier. As he got to the top stair, he looked up and through the fences, seeing the captain at the helm of the ship. In the centre of the ship were the rest of the crew members, including Benjamin, drinking in camaraderie. With a hearty chuckle, a man with a long, scruffy blonde beard slammed his mug against a wooden table. He was joking around and drinking with Benjamin and another one of the crew, an ectomorphic dark-skinned man. The sight of it made Billy groan.

“C’mon, we’re basically here, you have to see the coastline from here," Damian said to Billy, motioning for him to come to the front portside of the ship.

Billy shrugged away from Damian. “I don’t care about a fucking coastline. Why’d you wake me up?”

“We haven’t seen Wreathward in over a decade. I just thought you’d appreciate seeing it from a distance," Damian replied.

“Yeah, well I can see it after we land and I get some fuckin’ sleep," Billy answered back, storming back down the steps and to the bedroom.

Billy scrambled up onto the top bunk of the bed, covering himself with the thin woolen blanket. Turning over, he used his hands to block out the noise of the waves from one ear and covered the other ear with the blanket. It was no use. The boat continued to rock, and Billy kept getting pushed forward towards the edge of the bed. Turning onto his back, Billy closed his eyes, but the sound of the waves and the rocking was just too much.

With a frustrated grunt, Billy threw the blanket off the side of the bed, and jumped off onto it. Gnashing his teeth, he pulled open the bedroom door and it slammed against the wall. He stomped up the stairs, the shining light now less of an adjustment than before. Damian was now playing cards at the table with the other crew members.

Billy walked over to the table, which had a pile of Apathasawian paper bills in the centre- the pot. Damian was holding two cards, facing the viking-looking man, who also held two. Benjamin and the thin tan man had their cards face down on the table, they were out of the game.

The centre already had three cards down, Space nine, Time seven, God of Time.

The blonde-bearded man took the pile of cash closest to him on the table; picking out a few bills from the bunch, he threw them toward the centre.

“Raise twenty.”

Looking up to the blonde-bearded man, Damian studied his face, before taking a few bills from his stash and throwing them toward the center.

“Re-raise sixty.”

With a deep sigh, the blonde-bearded man slammed his cards onto the table.

“Fold.”

Damian gave a small smile as he collected the money from the centre.

“How are you so good against me?” the man asked.

“When you’re nervous, you look down and to the left. It’s an easy tell," Damian replied.

The man chuckled heartily. “Remind me never to play with you again!”

Impressive, Billy thought to himself. He had never seen Damian gamble, although he literally had the perfect skillset to do so, but not the balls to risk getting kicked out of a saloon.

Standing up, Damian turned to face him. “Couldn't sleep?” he asked.

“Yeah. Looks like you’ve won quite a few pots there," Billy said, looking to the large wad of cash in Damian’s hand.

“Yeah, that game was quite a fun time," Damian smiled.

“Well… you think maybe we could give them some of that cash back in exchange for some beer?” Billy asked with excited eyes.

Damian smiled softly. “Sure, Billy.”

“Thanks buddy," Billy said, giving Damian a pat on the back, and then turned to the other men at the table, who were joking around. “So, how much would it be for two bottles of beer?”

The blonde-bearded man spoke up excitedly. “I’ll give you two bottles for… eighty!”

Eighty? That’s fucking ridiculous! All he had to do is steal some from the cargo without getting caught, right?

“Ah, cheap bastard wants all money back," Benjamin laughed. “I give bottle for twenty-five each, Billy.”

The dark, skinny man interjected, “Wait, wait. I give two for thirty.”

A shocked look came from Benjamin, who turned to the thin man. “Why cut me?”

“It just competitive pricing. Thirty paper is better than two beers for me," the skinny man replied.

“But these are my friends!," Benjamin replied.

The thin man looked to Benjamin with a witty grin. “If really were your friends, you wouldn’t charge fifty paper for two beers!” The four men burst into laughter at an unamused Benjamin, who eventually gave in and began laughing along. The skinny dark-skinned man got up from his chair, but was stopped by Damian’s voice.

“Wait, could I maybe give you an extra fifteen and you get one for Benjamin too?”

Laughing, Benjamin shook his head. “Just get me one from my stash, Silvio.”

Billy’s jaw dropped. “Stash? How much do you guys have?”

“Lots. Sometimes don’t return home for months. Olitheon Transport has deal with many brewing corporations, extra supply in exchange for cheap shipping rate. Captain gives option, take small cut from salary in exchange for ample beer supply at sea.”

“And of course we all do it!” the blonde-bearded man shouted, raising his mug to the air. The ectomorphic man ran down the deck, towards the Captain’s cabin, disappearing down a staircase near the back of the ship.

Billy smiled. “Maybe I should’ve worked transport instead of security.”

“Yeah, you’d spend all your time cleaning up your own vomit!” Benjamin burst into laughter again.

“Shut up, Benjy," chuckling, Billy slapped the huge man on the back.

The skinny man came pounding up the steps, three bottles smooshed between his arms. He pulled out one bottle by the neck and handed it to Billy, and then to Damian, and then finally to Benjamin.

“Thanks, Silvio," Damian said, handing him the cash. Silvio did a quick count, and then smiled, pushing the wad into his pocket.

“Hey Damian," Billy said, and Damian turned to face him attentively. “Why don’t we go check out the coastline?”

Smiling, Damian replied, “Sure Billy.” Waving to the crew, Damian and Billy walked towards the front of the deck, starboard side, and leant against the side of the ship.

Out in the distance, the crystal-clear blue waters crashed against the rocky coastline, leaving behind white foam which slowly dissipated away. Overhead, he heard a cawing sound. Five or six small black birds were gliding over the ship.

Narrowing his gaze, Billy’s surroundings smoothly slowed down. The rushing waves became more like a still pond, and the gusting winds which made Damian’s hair and the captain’s beard flap around violently instead held them still in the air towards the East. But Billy’s gaze focused on the birds, the usual blurry flapping slowed so he could observe each powerful thrust of the wings, each keeping the sleek body balanced and high in the sky. He scrutinized the more subtle flap of the tail, which propelled the birds forward in a sharp thrusting motion. Avians, which were normally so smooth and continuous in flight, like it was all just one continuous motion forward, looked as rigid as a man chopping wood at this speed.

With a short blink, everything returned to normal and the birds quickly flew past the ship and out of sight. The waves continued to crash violently against the ship and each other, and once again the hairs of the crew traveled in all directions from the blowing wind.

For a few more minutes Billy stood there with Damian, the two men watching the waves crash against the coastline to the north, which was drifting in and out of sight.

“Look at that!," Damian shouted, pointing to a large frigate, similar in size and build but with many more sails. It went along with the wind which was travelling eastward and with the waves, but yet was still going slower then their own ship, which was travelling against both the current and wind at the moment.

Billy scanned the surrounding ocean in a panoramic fashion. There were a few other ships travelling eastward, and a smaller cargo ship trailing them from a mile back behind them. Damian got up on his tiptoes, placing his hand over his eyebrows and leaning forward to get a better view of the horizon.

“I think—I think I see it!," Damian shouted, pointing northwestwards.

“What?," Billy replied.

Billy squinted towards where Damian was pointing, and slowly fading into view was a massive wooden deck, with several boats parked alongside or hovering nearby.

“That...that’s the dock that we left from," Billy said grimly.

“Yeah, I can just vaguely remember," Damian replied.

“How come you only remember shit when it’s useful to you, and the rest of us have to waddle through our memories, pretty or not?," Billy asked.

“I was only a kid, Billy," Damian replied.

“You say that like you aren’t still.”

Damian continued to stare in awe at the surrounding waters, and the coast which was now clearly coming into view. Soft, sandy shores were revealed by the retreating waves, and deeper inland Billy could make out grassy hills, green and luscious.

“I sure don’t remember Wreathward being this beautiful," Damian said.

“Maybe, but ain’t gonna trade nice grass and pretty water for freedom and hard-earned money," the booming voice of Benjamin said as he walked up next to Damian, giving him a pat on the back.

“Hey, Benjy," Billy said.

“Hey, Billy. Well, here is destination. Damian’s right, it pretty, but still don’t make sense why you pay so much for me to smuggle you over here for just two days," Benjamin said.

“It’s none of your business, Benjy," Billy replied.

Benjamin laughed. “I respect your privacy, Billy. I hope short trip, whatever you do, is worth it.”

The frigate grew closer and closer to the dock, and Billy could soon make out the smaller ships which were parked there.

“We’re here!" the captain yelled. “Slow the engines, cut the sails, and prepare to attach!”

The large man with the long blonde beard got up from his seat and made his way to the centre of the ship, rolling in a long rope which was attached to the sails. After some struggling, the sails collapsed inwards, and stopped fluttering in the wind. The lanky dark-skinned man made his way down the steps of the ship, and soon enough afterwards the ship slowed down noticeably.

There were a multitude of boats and men, both of which contained wide variety among them. There was only one other vessel that looked quite the size of Benjamin’s crew’s frigate, and likewise it was well-maintained and likely a steam-sail hybrid. There were many other ships that Billy recognized from his childhood, smaller and entirely powered by sail. He remembered his father telling him about barques and brigs, and was pretty certain that the medium-sized ships with three masts were barques, but not entirely sure.

Coming to a stop, the ship slid into the dock smoothly. “Another happy landing!" the Captain shouted.

“You hear that Billy?” Damian asked, eyes wide. “We’re here! We’re home!”

Standing up from his leaning position, Billy replied, “This ain’t our home anymore.”

Silvio frantically came up from the lower deck, and he was soon joined by the blonde-bearded man who had released the sails. Getting up from his leaning position, Benjamin walked over to join them.

Giving a nod, the slender man and the blonde-bearded man lifted up a long, wooden platform, around three inches thick, over their heads. The platform had large metal hooks on both sides.

“You got it?” the slender man said towards Benjamin, who gave an affirmative nod. Like he was releasing a bird into the sky, the thin man loosened his grip from the platform, and the blonde-bearded man followed suit. But instead of the platform falling on their heads, it gently rose upwards and forwards, until it was hovering above the small bit of water in between the ship and the dock, controlled by Benjamin, whose hands carefully directed the wooden board. Gently he lowered his hands, and the platform followed, and with slight finger movements the platform tilted a bit upwards, so that the hooks on the shipside of the platform hitched onto two rings on the side of the ship. Lowering his right hand precisely, Benjamin moved the plank downwards so the hooks on the other side perfectly slid through two rings lined up on the dock.

Clapping, the two crewmates smiled at Benjamin’s performance, as Damian's mouth hung open in an excited wonder. Crossing his arms, Billy said, “Why didn’t you just attach the hooks to the side of the ship and he just lifts it up onto the dock?”

“I like to see Benjy do his magic," the lanky man said with a grin.

“Two weeks at sea is too much," Billy said, walking towards the platform, Damian following closely behind.

“Wait," Benjamin said, stepping in front of Billy’s path. “The money.”

Sighing, Billy shimmied through his pockets until he found a wad of paper cash, and counted through it, handing Benjamin a dozen or so. “Here.”

Benjamin spread out the money in a fan with his massive hands. “I only count one and half.”

“You’ll get the rest after the return trip," Billy replied.

Benjamin scoffed. “You still do not trust me? What, you think I’ll get crew to leave early and leave you here?”

Billy pointed a finger directly into Benjamin’s diaphragm. “No, I’m worried you’ll spend it all on a piece of ass and whine about it to me for the entire return trip.”

Laughing furiously, Benjamin moved aside and gave Billy a playful push on the back towards the platform. “Get out of here already, Billy!”

Grinning, Billy gave a short wave to Benjamin and the crew, and Damian gave a more friendly variant.

“Oh, and don’t get drunk and be late! We will leave without you!” Benjamin shouted, pointing at Billy.

Making their way onto the dock, Billy was a streetwhore at a ballroom gala. Billy’s dusty, brown leather jacket, boots, and cowboy hat, topped off with the worn denim chaps, and his holstered revolver, stuck out from the two distinct styles seen by the other men occupying the dock; There were men with colored coats and ornate waistcoats, wearing breeches or dress pants and with curled hair, most likely to be passengers or businessmen. The other men, sailors, wore linen shirts and trousers. Damian looked like maybe he could blend in with the latter, although he’d have to do up his hair and dust off his clothing, but he was quite conventional compared to Billy, or even the rest of Benjamin’s crew, who were all on a spectrum from cowboys to pirates.

While most of the sailors were busy loading up ships, Billy got a multitude of stares from the other men, but he challenged them with a sharp glare like a lion among hyenas, while Damian occupied Billy’s shadow like a scared cub.

“I think we should probably buy some new clothes," Damian whispered to Billy’s ear.

“I only have money for the return trip, and they use a different currency here," Billy replied, turning right so that they were moving inland from the port. The town they were entering was filled with brightly coloured villas and paved brick streets. White, yellow, and even some pink and green houses gave the block individuality; yet they all shared red brick roofs, dark red accenting, arched doors and similar square builds with triangular rooftops which gave the necessary sense of uniformity.

Jogging up in front of Billy, Damian made himself clear. “Billy, what about food? Water? What are we gonna do?”

“What we used to do. Take it," Billy replied, pushing past Damian.

“But if we get arrested here, it’s not gonna be like in Apathasaw. We can’t just work it off and go back to life as normal, we’d be locked up and stuck here!”

Scowling, Billy stopped walking and turned to face his friend. “Well, do you want food or not? We don’t have time to fucking settle down and look for a job, now do we?”

Damian slumped his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess. It just seems like you always hurt someone, or get—”

“Stop moaning already! You don’t fucking do anything but moan! With the flick of your finger you could make someone get us anything we need, but you decide to act like a fucking baby and make me do everything!”

Damian backed away from the cowboy, who was now red in the face, teeth gnarling. The yelling and cursing had attracted even more unwanted eyes, which were already magnetized to Billy as flies to dung.

Deflecting their gazes, Billy swatted his hand through the air around him. “Go back to your business.”

Damian bit his lip as he followed a storming Billy through the town’s main square. Smiling men and women in elegant coats and dresses strutted along the town square, orbiting around the exquisite marble fountain which sat in the centre of the square. It depicted a man with a youthful face and confident posture, with one hand on his hip and the other blocking the sun out of his eyes so he could stare off into the distance. On his back stretched mighty wings, putting even the likes of a bald eagle to shame, and so did his pretentiousness and pride. Damian’s eyes fixated on the statue.

“I don’t remember the town having a statue of Revictus when we were growing up,” Damian said. ‘Was that always there?”

Looking to the centre of the square Billy replied, “Who cares? I know you’d like to, but we aren’t here ogle at men.” Damian smiled as they continued northwards.

The northern outskirts of the town were less modern and refined than the area surrounding the ports. Small buildings made of cobblestone, uneven wood, and few windows was the extent of the architecture, but it was a sight of pleasure nonetheless, the feeling of childhood familiarity.

Billy stopped in front of a house with a tall cobblestone base, a wooden roof and a large window that stood above his head. There was ample moss building up on the underside of the roof, and the window frame was warped and rotting.

I wonder if he’s still here.

Instinctively, Billy marched to the wooden entrance of the house and gave it a knock. He heard footsteps from inside, and the door swung open. A short, plump man with a small nest of thin white hair and a wrinkled face stood below Billy. Looking up with scrunched eyebrows, examining the rugged cowboy’s face, the elderly man itched his chin.

“Need something?” He asked.

Billy’s eyes lit up. “Mr. Cantas?”

The old man backed away from Billy. “How do you know my name?”

Billy stammered. “I-I’m a traveller from Apathasaw, and I ran out of Wreathwardian steltells, and the townspeople say that you were the most hospitable man in Metheno," the cowboy smiled weakly.

The old man snorted. “Eh, well I guess I got nothing better to do. Come on in," he held open the door and waved the two men inside. Inside, it was much more humid, and smelled of charcoal. It was also rather empty; a wooden shelf containing raw vegetables and grains, a cast-iron stove, two chairs and a table occupied one side, and pots, pans, tools and buckets were scattered across the stone brick floor. The other side of the room had an iron-framed bed with no sheets or pillows, and a staircase leading upwards to a second floor. On the side of the bed sat a short dresser with one leather-bound book sat on top of it. On top of the food shelf were two unopened bottles, probably whiskey.

“Take a seat. I’ll make you both some tea," the old man said, and Billy and Damian sat across from each other at the table. Opening a cabinet below, the man grabbed a stone teapot and began filling it with water from a large wooden bucket.

“Uhm, actually," Billy spoke up, grabbing the attention of the host. “Could I perhaps get some whiskey, or gin, or any sort of spirit?”

The stout man furrowed an eyebrow. “Quite unusual for an uninvited guest to ask for liquor," he commented. Damian shook his head, glaring at Billy.

“Yes, I know, I apologize," Billy said, his eyes locked with Damian’s, his hands on his knees below the table. “It’s just I have some dark memories when it comes to Metheno, and that’s the only thing that can numb my mind enough.”

“Mhm," the man scratched his chin, eyeing Billy. “Well, Intillia teaches that one should always attempt to ease a man’s pain when the means to do so are readily available.” Standing on his tiptoes, the man reached up to grab one of the bottles from the shelf. Indeed, it was whiskey.

Maybe I can finally thank those damn Gods for something, Billy thought.

“Would you like anything, my friend?” The old man asked Damian as he opened the bottle with a corkscrew.

Damian shook his head. “No thank you, sir.” The old man walked to the table with a glass in one hand and the bottle in the other. Placing down the glass, he poured out the whiskey into it, but his hand began to shake, spilling some on the table.

“I’m sorry," the old man said, wiping the table with his sleeve, watching Billy’s face carefully. “It’s my age, you know.”

The man continued to pour, this time with both hands, until the cup was around three-quarters full.

“Thank you, sir," Billy said, smiling to the man. He slid his right hand out from under the table and grabbed the cup of whiskey, chugging it all down in one gulp and slamming the glass back down on the table with a satisfied sigh.

“I’m sorry, I never got your name," the old man said.

“You can call me, uh, Saul. And this here is- Derrick," Billy replied, gesturing to Damian.

“Hm. And why might you be in town, Saul?” the old man asked.

“Eh, just business," Billy replied.

Billy nodded, and he hid his hands back under the table. “Could I get another drink?” he asked.

“Of course,” the old man said, grabbing the bottle from the counter and pouring him another glass. His eyes drew away from Billy’s as he carefully poured with both hands to counteract their shaking.

Damian eyed Billy from across the table, his eyes motioning for the door.

“How’s- you have any kids?” Billy asked the old man as he finished pouring.

The old man nodded. “Yeah, just one. A boy, about your age. Maybe a bit older.”

Billy looked around the room. “Where’s the wife?”

The old man craned his neck downwards. “She passed a few years ago.” “Only a single man could make a household look like this," he chuckled.

Billy laughed, “You should see what two men can do.” He downed the second glass.

“Ah," Billy eyed the bottle in the man’s hand. “Could I, maybe-“

“Just have the rest," the man said, slamming the bottle down onto the table. Damian got up from his seat, going around the table and urging Billy up.

“We should really be going now, wouldn’t want to overstay our welcome," he said, smiling to the old man.

“It’s no trouble. I got an extra bed upstairs and a spare bedroll if you’d like to stay the night," the man replied.

Billy smiled. “That sounds—“

“Thank you, but we need to be on our way," Damian spoke up, pushing Billy away away from the table.

Billy reached forward to grab the bottle from the table, his golden watch showed itself from underneath his sleeve as he stretched out his arm, just barely grabbing the bottle. The old man squinted at Billy’s wrist, his eyes focused on his golden watch. Damian guided Billy out of the man’s house, slamming the door shut on the frozen man.

Damian rushed along the dirt path with his arm around Billy.

“What was that about? He offered us a place to stay for the night, we struck resinite!” Billy asked.

“Billy, we can’t be hanging around people that we used to know! I thought you would know that better than anyone!”

Billy groaned, looking down at his feet. “Yeah. I guess we’ll just have to find somewhere else to rest.”

Yawning, the cowboy looked to the fuzzy horizon. The tangerine light mingled with crimson and golden hues, as the sun began to set on the western horizon, creating a violet barrier that guarded the setting sun from the blue sky. In the skyline, Billy pictured man who had been shot off a cliff, falling into the ocean, his blood fading into the crystal clear waters, muddying what was his bodily fluids and what belonged to the ocean waters.

After some walking, the two men had gotten to the northeastern corner of the village.

“Over there," Billy whispered, nodding towards a small, unoccupied stable. There were two stalls that contained resting horses, and one that was left unoccupied, exempt from a small pile of hay. Sneaking tacitly, the two men approached the covered stable.

“But there’s only one stall, and well–," Damian awkwardly pointed to himself, and then Billy.

“You take it.”

“Ah, it looks like there’s enough room for the both of us. It might rain, you wouldn’t wanna—”

“I’d rather get wet then cuddle up with you like some kind of fucking faggot," Billy chuckled. “Get some rest.”

Nodding sheepishly, Damian climbed over the hay bales, awkwardly laying down on top of them, shovelling off pieces of hay that stuck out. Turning onto his side, he tucked his hands together under his head like a pillow.

It wasn’t long until Damian appeared to be asleep. Unmoving, silently breathing, like a resting infant. Billy enjoyed this time alone, at night, not being bugged by Damian’s whining, or the judgemental, arrogant looks from the ever-conceited natives. And he hadn’t had a taste of liquor for over two weeks. Stumbling over to a sleeping Damian, the young lad shivered a bit, but he still appeared to be asleep. Even through the strong smell of liquor on his lips, Billy could smell the stench of Damian’s clothes, which had seen a massive buildup of perspiration. Or maybe that was his own? Or even just the smell of the two large, grimy horses which were probably lying in their own shit? Whatever the case, Billy knew it could be masked by some more drinking, and so he took another swig of the now half-empty bottle of whiskey. He jugged the rest down in one chug.

Dropping the now empty bottle on the ground, Billy doddered closer to a sleeping Damian, extremely slowly; he was trying his best not to wake him. Taking off his jacket, Billy attempted to place it on the shivering Damian, but in doing so he fell forward, his face landing towards Damian’s backside- Billy could feel his nose touch Damian’s ass.

“Get some rest," Billy murmured, before realizing what he was staring at. “What am I doing?” he trailed, trying to stand up but just pushing himself onto the floor. A waterfall came streaming out of his mouth, or maybe it was more like a volcanic eruption, except upside-down.

Rolling onto his back, Billy could see the twinkling stars up above. They flashed themselves, smiling at him, were they greeting him? No, they were mocking him, high on their horse just because they were the little piece of light that could shine through the all-encompassing darkness.

And one star even flew through the air, he was dancing over Billy, like a gazelle galloping by a crippled, dying tortoise.

Fuck the stars. I wish I never saw you and your fucking dumbass lights ever again.

And in a few moments, Billy’s wish was granted.