A blast of wind carried some of Arentz's salt into the air and toyed with the cleric's veil. Strong was the air that made Euphemia's veil and skirt flutter. The gale gave its proud demonstration by rocking the waters back and forth; small crests of the sea crashed and formed the occasional spray that rose above the deck. She stared beyond, hoping that the ship was nearing the Albertan bay, or at least, she could see its bounds from a distance. Nothing could be done to speed up the journey; the old liner's boilers were giving everything she could, but her cache of goods and the aging hull limited her seaward ventures.

The first rays of dawn started piercing the night sky, signaling the arrival of the sun in its glory. Only a few bodies were present on deck. A sailor was found half-asleep near the liner's great smokestack. There was a trio of deckhands leaning on the forecastle's wall, snickering at the sight of the half-conscious man near the exhaust port. Euphemia was refreshed by the minute droplets that glistened in the faint sunlight. She assessed that it would take a full two days at sea before she could reach the shores of Alberta, and much of that time has passed. The thought of home after eight years of convent life invigorated the canoness, despite being besieged by the news of her father's disappearance. Agnes of Schild would surely hug the cleric tight upon her arrival. Euphemia thought of other things, the bakery scents, tea with the old duchess, and taking a tour of the regal Schild estate. She wondered how her bedroom was maintained after years of being left unused. Surely the mother would not let the place gather dust and had it always ready for Euphemia's arrival; Lady Agnes had her way of things when it comes to the estate.

Her eyes saw a partly-obscure blip near the vessel's hold; something in there was too familiar to ignore. It was him. Again.

The lady cleric was jolted back into reality; her mouth opened tentatively to utter a gasp. It was the boy with the black coat. His features were more prominent now that daylight denied him the secrecy of his jet-hued attire. He had a youthful face paired with a firm, lanky built. His feet found it hard to stand erect on the partly-rocking ship.

He was on his back, leaning against a stack of three crates. Euphemia could tell that the young man was struggling to stand straight, as the rocking ship was not very kind to those new to the sea. She stared at the darkly-clad boy, whose eyes seem to be unable to return the gaze in his attempts to keep balance aboard the vessel.

"You can stand up easier if you let your feet follow the floor."

"I don't need your help." The boy glared at Euphemia in an attempt to stop her from going nearer; his head swung back to his feet that couldn't pace farther from the cargo bay.

He at least knew how to speak Delitian. This boy was born on this continent, at least. Euphemia thought that he would have a hard time speaking to him. While she still has two or four other languages to use, years of convent life drastically reduced her confidence in speaking any of them fluently. The boy let go of the wooden pillar and tried to inch away from his hold. Dizziness finally got hold of him and brought the stranger to his knees. This is nuts, he thought.

"These things are harder to get used to than they look. How do people ride well on this... uh, watercraft?" he drew in a lungful of air before whimpering to himself.

"Is this your first time to come aboard a ship?" Euphemia glanced at the downed boy and stretched out her arm. He did not receive the help too well, being hesitant to hold on to the woman's open palm.

"You call this thing a ship...?" The boy was slow to stretch out his arm with the thought that one less limb to hold his body would lay him flat against the floorboards. He was pulled up; he could see that the woman was somewhat struggling with his weight.

"It is your first time aboard." Euphemia smiled and guided the wobbling figure to a place nearer to the main deck. "You should be a little used to moving around after a day or two. Will you be all right?"

"Thanks. Leave me alone." The boy looked away from the canoness and stared at the churning waves ahead. He heard Euphemia taking two steps back from him.

"All right, if that is what you want. I feel this is not the last time we will see each other. May you safely reach your destination, by the Creator's grace."

Euphemia looked away from the boy and ventured deeper to the deck. She wondered how he got aboard the vessel. He could have stowed himself in under the cover of night, for the cleric was near the loading platform all the time before the old liner raised anchors off the harbor. Was he following her? His eyes didn't reveal to harbor ill intentions towards her – this would prove to be a baffling yet alarming experience to have someone like him follow Euphemia all the way through.

It was a question of intent – what could that stranger want with her in the first place, had he really gone as far as chasing her aboard the old liner? His looks were certainly that of a foreigner, particularly from the northern lands. One of pale white tone clad in a thick, dark yet sleek coat. His eyes of different colors stood out amongst the natives of Kriemreich – there was something beyond human behind those irises. All those features could not hide a boy's appearance and the apparent attitude he displayed towards the canoness.

Euphemia tried to think of what the young man could possibly be. He could be one of the clan's agents assigned to her, but the boy would have introduced himself had he been assigned. The Schild clan never ordered their bodyguards to watch them remotely or in secret. Would he have been from the people behind her missing father? A gun was aimed at her after all, but he would have had all the chances to kill her that night. Nobody would have been near enough to save her from such a fate.

The Creator gave her His blessing when she came out of that street unharmed.

She could not remove the fact that the boy was armed, and that he had a reason for coming aboard the ship. Whether it was to simply follow her or visit someone else who could be living at the southern ends of Kriemreich would remain a question and the canoness had no means to arrive at an answer.

Euphemia took a deep breath; the scent of broth and bread drew her attention to the ship's kitchen just a couple of turns away from where she stood. It was a great time to eat after all she had been through these past few hours. She entered the hall and was with the company of other travelers and merchants; most of them looking only at the food on their plates or bowls and not minding everyone beyond the confines of their tables.

"Some soup would do well with the bread I have. I'm not so sure if my money could buy me more than half a bowl though."

Not having enough money was part of the canoness' lifestyle. Euphemia remembered her first days at the convent when she was asked to return all of the spare dresses her mother sent to her. The cloister simply forbade obvious signs of her old lifestyle as a nobleman's daughter. It took her a while to understand that new dresses, fine pastry, and being able to eat at any restaurant in a whim were signs of excess and that she had to make do with a new way of living stripped of such amenities.

She felt for a small pouch hidden in her right sleeve and brought half a handful of coins to the light. A fat cook with bulging eyes greeted her at the counter; he immediately understood the cleric's intent upon seeing her finger point at the boiling pot. Euphemia was given a rather generous serving of the broth compared to the other customers, which earned stares and whispers from some of those still at the counter (although some might be looking at more than the bowl of meat and soup she held). The canoness occupied a table under a window, where a view of the sea was presented in a soft, bright blue. Euphemia took out half a loaf of bread from her bag and dined with the sea air entering the window. She stopped her eating halfway and took the time to look at a faint outline of a coastal town's seawall.

"Staunholtz. It wouldn't be too long before this ship reaches Alberta. I pray that Mother is doing well amidst everything that is happening..."

It would only be a few hours more. Four hours at sea before her feet could set foot on Albertan soil. Euphemia resumed eating the broth, which became somewhat saltier after a strong current of the ocean air blew past her bowl. It made the soup tastier for some reason, and she went on to finish the rest of the meat before the wind steals the heat away from it.