“So let me get this straight,” Broon said, “The three of them left onboard one of your ships.”

“Correct,” Isaac Rithmound said, “They left early this morning, at the stroke of dawn.”

He and Broon were in the young nobleman's office, a drab, bare place that seemed like it was set up strictly for business. Isaac seemed to have little need for physical affectations, the only true decoration being a painting of his mother looming behind him. Lady Rithmound had been a goddess, it had been said, a lady to whom all in Scuttleway looked up to for grace, cunning, and authority.

There were no windows here. The dark blue candlelight was the only source of illumination here. It gave Isaac a dark edge to him, his pointed features lengthening the shadows on his face. He looked tired, both physically and emotionally.

“Right,” Broon said, “Did they say where they were headed?”

“No,” Isaac Rithmound said, “Only that they needed a ship. They went on the Recluse, headed for Cuadron Bay. They'll arrive there, if the weather permits, in about three days.”

He leaned in.

“Is that all? I'm rather busy, sir.”

The half-orc scratched his chin for a moment, thinking.

“No,” he said, “There's one last thing.”

Isaac nodded, though he could not fully conceal the irritation that splashed on his face for a moment.

“How'd they pay?” Broon asked, “I know that they had a nest egg built up, but this was all rather impromptu. To get an audience with Lord Rithmound, it must have been quite a cost indeed.”

The hobgoblin bit the inside of his cheek, and his eyes became distant. He was, Broon realizing, weighing things in his mind. On how much to reveal. Broon's heart sank at that.

“I can't say for certain,” the young Rithmound said, “Only that it was pertinent information that my father needed. I didn't catch everything that was being talked about in there. Nor can I gauge what my father's reaction about the information your guildmates provided. I've hardly seen him since that talk. He only stepped out, guided them to the Recluse, and went back to his work.”

A non-answer.

“Right,” Broon said. He rose to his feet, “Thank you, Lord Rithmound. I'll be out of your scales.”

The hobgoblin nodded. He joined Broon, walking over to the door and opening it up. Mallory and Ezel were outside, the latter holding Kilnriv, Broon's sword. Isaac looked at the three of them in turn, before turning to the shadows.

“Ket,” he said, “Please accompany our guests out of Keep.”

From nowhere, the Inléan emerged. All-black, like a walking shadow with a rabbit's head. Ket gave them a nod.

“Your health, Amber Foundation,” Isaac said, “Please, excuse me.”

And he closed the door.

“You will follow me,” Ket rasped. He made down the hallway. Broon, Mallory, and Ezel started after him.

“Well, it's true,” Broon said, “All of it.”

Ezel waited until they were out of the building before she posed her question.

“Did you at least get what they gave the Rithmounds as payment?”

“Information,” Broon said, “And Rithmound was being dodgy about it. Whatever they gave, they were snitching.”

“Shit,” Mallory said, “That's not good, is it?”

“There's an expectation of anonymity when it comes to clientele,” Broon said, “If they wanted something hidden, we'd keep it off of the report we make to the High Federation.”

“So what sort of information did they give the Rithmounds?” Mallory asked.

“Well, let's think about it,” Ezel said, “What information would be good to the Rithmounds that we have?”

“Probably something on Busciver,” Mallory said, “Or... Sunala. Rosemary was going to her manor almost every day, right before InterGuild.”

“And it would be need to be juicy enough to get them passage aboard one of Rithmound's airships,” Ezel said, “I don't know about you, but the Great Houses are usually rather selfish when it comes to their off-plane acquisitions.”

She let the last point hang. They all had a feeling. A hunch, on what the three of them...

No.

What Rosemary had given to the Rithmounds. Something had shifted between her and the Lady Sunala.

“We don't have a moment to lose,” Broon said, “We've got to secure an airship. Go after them. Cuadron Bay's our next destination, people. Let's see if we can't beat them there.”

***

Joseph pointed a hand as the first of the raiders leapt out of the cloud sea.

Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed. The world was blinded by cobalt light.

And then the raider was falling, blown back by the bolt. Joseph felt a dark sense of pride at that. A moment later, he realized he had just killed someone. The pride fell away at that, and the demonic smile on his face fell into a sour frown. Rosemary was wielding her sceptre, firing off beams of light at still more pirates as they made for the top deck of the Recluse. Sailors had drawn weapons, clashing against those who managed to land.

There was a deep shudder that caused Joseph to stumble back. He regained his footing, looking down. Captain Lugash was grimacing, his blade drawn.

“They're hitting below, lads!” he roared, “All hands, battle stations!”

He turned, noting that his order went unheeded as more raiders made it onboard, and clashed with his crew.

Rolling his eyes, Lugash pulled out a conch shell, a spiraled orange and cream affair from back on Scuttleway, harvested from the lakes deep in the mines beneath the city. He blew into it, producing a low, mournful howl. Sailors both above and below took that as the sign for battle.

Below, the crew of the Recluse prepared the aerial defenses, running for the great ballistae on the ship's orlop. Usually, these had been used to hunt even larger creatures that trawled Escovia's lower skies. They were loaded up, aimed downwards into the cloud layer.

The raiders were riding fish that swam through the skies. They resembled pikes, though their dorsal fins were sharper than other species in the multiverse. A metal ring pierced through each fin, on which had been carved writings and runes.

Many of the raiders wielded spears. A few had bows. One of them was weaving a spell in her hand, fire curling at her fingertips.

The crew of the Recluse aimed at her first, tracking her movements through the clouds. It was difficult to see through the fog, though a single crewmember had a pair of goggles on, enchanted to cut through the mist. She was guiding the ballista's aim.

“Steady,” she murmured, “Steady...”

There.

She patted her comrade on the shoulder. He fired. The bolt flung off into the white.

A moment later, they saw scales thrashing in the sky. An errant fireball go haywire downwards, sailing like a meteor to the world below.

Its spellcaster joined a moment later.

Yet more of them were rising from the deep. The ballista continued its thrumming.

***

A raider jumped down beside Joseph, thrusting a spear towards him.

He sidestepped out of the way, ready to deliver a strike of his own when he suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise.

“Hit the deck!” Lugash roared.

Joseph did so, falling to his knees. As did his opponent, as a full flock of pikes rushed over the top deck of the ship. One of them had a sailor in its jaws as they flew overhead, so close Joseph could see the runes carved into the rings on their bottom fins.

Yet more of the pirates dropped from their mounts and onto the deck.

And his current opponent was rushing towards him as Joseph was rising to his feet, ramming a knee into his face. Joseph saw stars as he stumbled back. Panic gripped him as his soul erupted from his chest, claws catching the spear jab of the pirate, who let out a yelp.

“Meta!” the raider screamed, “Meta!”

And then the soul's other claw closed over his head, picking him up, and throwing him overboard.

By now, however, the other raiders were scrambling back from him, taking notice of his great eagle-headed being that was now moving from his chest to its customary spot on his back. Joseph turned to consider them. Even the crewmembers were stumbling back, giving him wary looks.

Many of them had lowered their weapons, hesitant with this… revelation.

Captain Lugash, however, was having none of that.

“Get them, lads!” he roared, “Get them all!”

The ogre rushed forward, cutlass swiping forward, cutting down another raider. The Recluse's crew, shaken out of their stupor, followed suit.

Joseph could only watch as the raiders quickly gave up their fight, jumping off the sides of the ship, catching onto their pike mounts, disappearing into the depths of the cloud ocean. The Recluse had taken hardly any damage from their assault, her hull peppered with a few fizzling fire spells that were, at most, superficial.

In all, the attack had taken a few minutes. Five dead raiders that they could find onboard the ship, though there was an unknown number that had been unmounted during the assault.

Joseph could count at least two that he had hit with his lightning. Part of him hoped they were still alive. Part of him knew they weren't. The one he had thrown overboard probably had gotten his neck broken with the ragdoll toss his soul had made, too.

So that was three dead. Three he had killed in a matter of minutes.

He supposed that he couldn't blame the reluctant looks the crew of the Recluse was giving him now. They were wary. One looked afraid. One looked mutinous.

“A metahuman!” the sailor, a human, yelled, “A fucking metahuman, Captain!”

“Enough of that!” Lugash snapped, “All of you, damage assessment!”

“I didn't sign up to ferry one of them around!” the sailor said, “You had to clear this with us if you wanted us to take a bunch of stowaways!”

“Lord Rithmound's orders, Enoas,” Lugash said, “Now quit yappin' your pipe and get back to work.”

Enoas glared at the Captain. Then to Joseph. He muttered darkly to himself as he picked up the body of a raider, pulled off of a few trinkets, then tossed the corpse unceremoniously off the edge.

Lugash stepped over to Joseph.

“Good work, carrying your weight,” he said, “Go to the medical wing, get that nose looked at.”

Joseph nodded. Now that the adrenaline was dying down, he noted that it had been broken. He had suffered worse before. He gave the ogre a nod, and made for downstairs.

Out on the top deck, Rosemary looked down at her sceptre, inspecting it for damage. Ever since Chliofrond, ever since she had given it a hairline fracture, she had looked to it after every battle. Her heart hammered as she looked up and down its length, eyes squinting to see if there was anything, anything at all, that would denote another crack.

But no. Nothing.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

“Not every day the Kapi attack us like that,” Captain Lugash said, drawing up to her.

“There were a lot of them,” she said, “You'd think they would have broken off after a few hits.”

“They're desperate,” Lugash said, “Once upon a time, they were the largest tribe in these parts. But settlers from the Silver Eye founded a colony here on Federation charter. Started eating up their lands. You're looking at a dying people, here.”

He glanced down for a moment at the sea of clouds.

“None of my business,” he said, “So long as it doesn't cut into Rithmound profits. The damage to the Recluse is superficial. I lost a few crewmembers. Nothing to it.”

He turned to Rosemary, noted how she continued to stare out at the sea, lost in thought.

Then, he turned back 'round, and continued barking out orders.

***

Joseph got lost on the way to the infirmary. Of course he did. He wasn't like Rosemary, who explored every nook and cranny of a place and always knew exactly where to go. No, he was lost before he knew it.

When he asked a crewmember, they shook their head, and continued working. Whispers were following him. He occasionally found the crew stealing looks his way.

Phineas found him at one point, the Deep One waddling down a hall.

“Hey, Phin,” Joseph said, “Help me out here. Where the hell's the infirmary.”

“Joseph!” Phineas said, “You have a broken nose.”

“Really?” Joseph said, “I didn't know.”

“I do not see how you would not know,” Phineas said, “It looks extremely...”

He blinked at Joseph.

“Ah. A joke.”

“Just tell me where it is, man.”

“This way, Joseph,” Phineas said.

And the two of them made their way to the infirmary, which was just down the hall they were in. Joseph rolled his eyes at that.

They opened the door, where a medical mage was busy attending to a crewmember, who was sporting a rather nasty cut on her arm. The crewmate looked over to Joseph and Phineas, and Joseph saw her eyes widen in apprehension.

“Relax,” Joseph said, “I'm not going to hurt you, or whatever.”

“The metahuman,” the crewmate whispered to the mage, “The one I was telling you about.”

The mage nodded at that.

“Take a seat,” he said, “I'll attend to you shortly.”

Joseph nodded, waiting for his turn. The crewmember continued glancing at him as the medical mage whispered words of magic, applied salves, and sewed the wound shut.

“Nothing major, Amdrin,” the mage said, “Get back to work. Watch the arm. If the cut re-opens, come back to me.”

“Right,” Amdrin said, “Th-thanks.”

They stood up a bit too abruptly. Left the room a bit too quickly, too.

“Must have needed to use the bathroom,” Phineas said.

“I don't think that's the case, Phin,” Joseph said.

“And now, you,” the medical mage said, “I've never had to work on a metahuman before. Anything I should know?”

“I'm allergic to penicillin,” Joseph drawled.

“Hmm, right,” the mage said, “Well, come here, this won't take long.”

***

The Recluse trawled the skies for another few hours. Their destination, the Port of Solitude, loomed in the distance. It was built on a mountain, high above the cloud sea, its base a jungled island. Captain Lugash was watching it now, a stern expression on his face. The crew behind him was working on repairing the damage the ship had suffered during the attack, tying ropes around their waists and anchoring them to her rails in order to jump and climb down her side. A bit of scrubbing would fix his old girl right up. The Recluse had taken worse in its day. An attack from the natives here was nothing.

“Captain.”

He turned.

It was his first mate, Celery. A tall, willowy eln meia, scars laced across her blue skin, on her face, on her hands, from what Lugash reckoned, on her back and stomach as well. Not ritualistic, no, she had lived a hard life. Then, most eln meia did.

The sea was not kind.

Behind Celery was Enoas, leading a sizable grouping of the crew. Lugash let out a sigh.

This wasn't good.

“What is it, lass?” he said.

“Captain,” Celery said, “The crew's been talking, and I thought I'd bring it up with you. You saw what that metahuman did, right?”

“He pulled his weight is what he did.”

“He fucking fried those natives, is what he did,” Enoas said, “We all saw it, his bird nearly decapitated one of 'em. I saw that one go down, his neck was broken.”

“He's a metahuman, Enoas,” Lugash said, “He uses what he's been given.”

“He's a monster, is what he is,” Enoas said, “Most metahumans are, right? There's a way he's walking 'round these parts, a look in his eye. We all talked about it, and we all agree. We're scared of him, Captain.”

Lugash furrowed his brow, looking at each of the crew in turn. Most of them were nodding with what Enoas was saying. He looked at Celery.

“You agree, Celery?” he asked.

The eln meia shrugged.

“Seen plenty of storms in my day, sir,” she said, “But I'm the voice of the crew. Enough of 'em have come up here to talk about the meta you got downstairs that I thought it'd be prudent if we talked about it.”

“He's here on the direct orders of Lord Rithmound,” Lugash said, “We're to take him to Cuadron Bay.”

“Captain,” Celery said, “At the risk of sounding disrespectful, Lord Rithmound ain't here.”

“And the metahuman is,” Enoas added.

“Listen, lads, I'd love to have this discussion, but Lord Rithmound was directly telling me to take the guildfolk to Cuadron Bay,” Lugash said.

“We ain't workin' if the Mutt's here, sir,” Enoas said.

Lugash looked at Celery. She gave a guilty nod.

“That go for the rest of ye?” Lugash said.

His heart fell at the sight of his crew nodding. He noted that a few others, not in the group but still on the deck, had been listening in. They were muttering assent, as well.

A captain without a crew was no captain at all.

For a moment, he almost felt sorry for the metahuman and his two companions. They had seemed desperate, desperate enough to strike a deal with Rithmound.

But then, their concerns were none of his business.

“Alright,” he said, “Let me talk to 'em.”

***

“Fucking bullshit,” Joseph said.

They had been pulled into the captain's quarters, Lugash's space, which was filled with memorabilia from his travels across the multiverse – paintings lined the wall, a suit of armor sat in the corner, a photo was on Lugash's desk that showed him with a tall man with three eyes – Aldr Fatebreaker – giving a thumbs up. The Captain looked apologetic as he broke the news to the three of them.

“I'm sorry, lad,” the ogre said, “But the crew's wishes are clear. They don't want you onboard.”

“I don't give a shit,” Joseph said, “That's their problem, if they don't like me. We had a deal.”

“They said they won't work unless you leave,” Lugash said.

Rosemary glanced over to Joseph. His fists were clenched as he glared at Lugash. The air began to smell of ozone.

She was smelling that a lot lately.

Not that she didn't agree with Joe right now. She was scrunching the hem of her cloak as she let him do his thing.

“I thought we had a deal,” Joseph said.

“We did,” Lugash said, “We brought you onboard.”

“All the way to Cuadron Bay, that's what we agreed on with Rithmound.”

“Rithmound isn't here, lad,” Lugash said.

“But you work for him, don't you?” Joseph said, “He's your boss, right?”

“Aye, he is,” Lugash said, “But so is my crew. If they don't want to work, there's not much I can really do.”

“Some captain you are, then,” Joseph said, “Rithmound seemed like the kind of guy who hired people with spine.”

“Joseph,” Rosemary said.

She put a hand on his shoulder. He was shaking. Incandescent. Lugash seemed unperturbed by the insult, leaning back and crossing his arms. Phineas was watching the entire scene with wide eyes. He was nervous, she knew. He had always hated anger, always hated when Joseph worked himself up. Even now, he was starting to shrink back from him.

“Where are you leaving us?” Rosemary said, “You can't just throw us overboard, right?”

“Wouldn't put it past him,” Joseph muttered.

“Nothing barbaric like that,” Lugash said, “We'll drop you off at the Port of Solitude. Should be coming up on it in another hour or so. We were stopping there anyway for a re-supply. It's fine, it's a Federation colony. You can go any which way you like from there.”

“Oh, great,” Joseph said, “Thanks.”

“Look, lad, I'm sorry,” Lugash said, “But my crew's my crew.”

“No, I get it,” Joseph said, “You're just a loser. It's fine.”

He got up out of his chair.

“Drop us off a cliff, for all I care,” Joseph said, “Thanks for nothing.”

He was out the door before Lugash could get out another word. The ogre, upon him leaving, visibly relaxed. He gave an apologetic shrug.

“Good luck on your journey,” he said.

“Thank you, sir,” Rosemary's voice was cool, “Rithmound hospitality, right?”

She stood up.

“Let's go, Phineas,” she said.

***

It was so named the Port of Solitude because the original settlers were an order of monks who had, to a being, taken a vow of silence.

They had come from the Silver Eye, from the world of Shaalken III, having received written permission from the High Federation to build a temple here. They had done so by hand, painstakingly carving it out of the stone on the highest mountain on Agro-Kandano. Written their scriptures on the pillars of the temple, as was their tradition. Runed the name of their home on the temple's roof, for all to see.

Then, they had meditated.

For a hundred years, they meditated.

For a hundred years, they dropped like flies. From starvation. From disease, for they did not believe in medicines of any kind. From simple old age. They did not speak. They did not procreate. They simply sat in silence, until the silence was all that remained.

Then, twenty years later, explorers found the Federation charter in old records. By then, the order had ceased to exist, which meant ownership of their religion reverted to the Department of Accepted Philosophies. One could now buy into the cult, defanged by time and by death. Settlers bought into the religious order. Used it as a tool to colonize a new plane.

They planeshifted there in droves. Cast away the Kapi, who had co-existed with the order for their entire existence here. To the Kapi, the order had been a mere curiosity.

The new settlers of the Port of Solitude, however, were of a different sort. They took the temple and made it a great market bazaar. They cleared away the surrounding islands of any sort of jungle and turned it into farmlands for their new homes. They went to war with the Kapi, and won.

They cast them out. Made them pariahs in their homeland.

And turned the Port of Solitude into a spaceport. The Traveling Point to the Silver Eye was a few miles above, guarded by a levitating platform flanked by their militiamen.

The Recluse landed on the mountain. Sailors began to offload a couple of crates, then load a few barrels. Rosemary glanced over to them.

There was an Elven symbol on the barrels. She recognized it as the Adaya family crest, a two-headed swan holding a fairy in the left beak, an arrow in the other. While a few sailors weren't looking, she glanced inside.

Inside were fairy bottles. Dozens per barrel. She went pale, and closed the barrel back up.

Maybe it was a good thing they were leaving.

They stepped off and onto the port itself. Many of the buildings were built in the style of the Post-Colonial region of the Silver Eye, segmented white blocks on slightly upraised pillar supports that went drilled deep into the rock. Such buildings were wheeled off of ships and then hammered into the ground, white blemishes on the green knolls that rolled across the Port. A few of the buildings had been built here, however, stone and brick affairs, while others looked more futuristic. Those were the administration buildings, made of metals and with less angular features, the tallest reaching towards the sky and built out of the mountain like it was a chimney.

With a last, murderous glare at the crew, Joseph stepped off the Recluse with Rosemary and Phineas. They went a ways down the main road, before turning.

“Let's get a drink,” he said.

The market bazaar in the temple had several rooms that had been dedicated to specific meditations for certain times of the day – reflections on the morning, on the evening, at midnight. They were vast and sparse.

Perfect for setting up shop.

The walls were covered in carvings from the order's age. The room itself had tables and a bar, which was tended to by an alien from the Eye, a slug-like creature who was mixing drinks with eight slimy appendages. Joseph found himself wiping goo off of his cup after it had been handed to him.

He downed the drink quickly. Asked for another.

“Go easy, Joe,” Rosemary said, “We're on a budget, here.”

“Right, sure,” Joseph said, “One more then. Two.”

“One,” Phineas said, “Addled minds are the easiest to sway.”

Joseph fixed the Deep One with a dark look.

“Shut up, Phineas.”

An awkward silence settled between the three of them. The waiter handed out another drink. Joseph downed this one, too. It tasted like battery acid. It tasted good.

He hated both of these facts.

He took a deep breath.

“Alright,” he said, “So where do we go from here?”

He looked at the two of them.

“You guys got any ideas? Come on.”

“I'm thinking, okay?” Rosemary said, “I didn't expect...”

“Yeah, neither did fucking I,” Joseph said.

“It was not like this with Becenti?” Phineas said.

“I don't want to talk about Becenti,” Joseph said.

They both looked at him. Joseph sighed.

“It... It wasn't, alright? It was... different. When we were heading to and from Prime. It was...”

“He knew his way,” Phineas said, “Knew the routes to take, to minimize hatred.”

Joseph nodded.

“Yeah.”

“And even then,” Phineas said, “You had to be careful.”

“It's not like I'm going to hurt anyone,” Joseph said, “Not unless they start something with me. How hard is it to wrap your head around that? I mean, people were like that back home sometimes, but it was mostly just them being snide. Nothing like... I don't know. I need another drink.”

He slumped. Rosemary seemed to be at a loss for words.

“We should be careful,” Phineas said, “We already look the parts of outlanders.”

Joseph nodded at that.

“Joseph,” Phineas said, “May I give some awkward advice?”

“Go ahead, Phin.”

“You should hide your powers,” Phineas said, “Do not use them unless absolutely necessary.”

He blinked. It was... an odd request. Not using his powers. They felt like they were a part of him now, a core facet of his being. His soul rippled in his belly as he thought of Phineas's advice. Logically, it was the right way to go.

Emotionally, he could not imagine not using his powers. His abilities. It was as though he were being told not to use his arms and legs.

“Alright,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation.

“We're going into some dangerous territory,” Rosemary said, “Kind of at an impasse. Either we charter another ship to Cuadron Bay, or we get a ship to the Silver Eye, and go to another Traveling Point there.”

“Another ship to Cuadron Bay will be expensive, yes?” Phineas said, “Very few go out there.”

“That's right,” Rosemary said, “How much money do we have?”

Joseph shrugged, and pulled out a credstick.

“Wakeling keeps loading money on here for every job I do,” he said, “There's about five thousand on here?”

“Not bad,” Phineas said. He reached into his bag, pulling out a sack of coin, “I have about two hundred gold coins in here. Exchange rate is twenty to one, if we're talking credits. Four thousand credits.”

“And I have...” Rosemary fumbled through her pockets for a second, pulling out a small coin purse. She opened it up, painstakingly taking out...

Three coins. Silver.

“Rosemary,” Phineas said, “You should learn to budget.”

“Hey, get off my back,” Rosemary said.

“But I’m not on-”

“How much is it for a ride to Cuadron Bay?” Joseph interrupted, “Or to the Silver Eye?”

“Not sure,” Rosemary said, “We'll need to ask around. I'll talk to the bartender, see what he knows.”

“Right,” Joseph said.

She stood up, and walked to the bar. Joseph sighed.

“Sorry I snapped at you, Phineas,” he said.

“It is alright,” Phineas said, “I am used to it.”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn't be,” Joseph said.

“But I am.”

Joseph winced.

He said nothing. Then, awkwardly, while Rosemary was talking to the bartender, called the waiter over for another drink.

“Not as strong, though,” he said, “Surprise me.”

The bartender, a humanoid seahorse, nodded. They came back a few minutes later with a neon green drink that smelled faintly of bananas.

“Ah, I recognize that, I think,” Phineas said, “Tiger drank it, once.”

“Tiger drinks?” Joseph said.

“All the time,” Phineas said, “He tends not to do it in front of Becenti, though, out of respect.”

“That's fair,” Joseph said. He looked down at the drink, “What is it, exactly?”

“I believe it is called g'Narok,” Phineas said, “A sipping drink. You sip it.”

Joseph sipped it. It had no flavor.

“Odd,” he said, “I'll take it.”

He took another few sips, passing it over to Phineas (who downed it, cup and all) as Rosemary came back.

“Right,” she said, “Our hunch was right. Any ship to Cuadron Bay's a merchant ship that's local to this part of the multiverse. Airships, and the like. They don't take passengers very often, so whatever price we pay is going to be inflated. He thinks it's going to be around a thousand credits for each of us.”

“Not good,” Phineas said, “We still have to catch other rides after Cuadron Bay.”

“Conversely,” Rosemary said, “People go through the Traveling Point located here all the time. There's a shipyard on the other side, usually a lot cheaper, around maybe five hundred credits each?”

“So either we go into the Silver Eye, or we pay a lot of money to get to Cuadron Bay,” Joseph said.

“I do want to point out, the road to Cuadron Bay is safer,” Phineas said, “For Joseph, at least.”

They all knew what he meant by that.

“It's a lot more expensive, though,” Joseph said, “My vote? Let's go to the Silver Eye. We can charter a ship. We'll keep quiet.”

“Are you sure?” Rosemary said.

He looked at the two of them.

“...Is it really that bad?” he asked.

“The Federation is not kind to metahumans,” Phineas said, “Most of your people are forced to live in the Outer Reach. The Traveling Point leads to a planet in the Post-Colonial. Far away from safety. Close to the sorts of beings who despise you.”

The metahuman gritted his teeth.

“I'll take a challenge,” he said, “It's cheaper, too. I just... won't use my powers, I guess.”

“Alright, if you're sure,” Rosemary said.

“I'm sure.”

With that, she nodded.

“Let me do the talking,” she said, “They won't blink twice at me. I look like proper guildfolk-”

Joseph scoffed.

“And I've got my guild ID, it's just another day on the job.”

They nodded. With their decision made, they rose, and headed out the door.

There was more traveling to be done, Recluse be damned.