Soon, they arrived at the shore—a modest harbour carved into the coastline like an afterthought. It was less a vessel of dreams and more a workhorse of the waves: a transporter ship, broad-beamed and weathered, its wooden hull scarred from countless voyages. Still, it would have to do.
Exhaustion weighed on their limbs after the long journey, but there was no rest yet. First, the horses needed to be settled in the harbour stables. Only after ensuring the animals were fed, watered, and comfortable did they turn to their own boarding arrangements.
Once aboard, with the gangplank drawn up and the ship groaning as if preparing to stretch its old bones, Ayumu knelt beside her bag. She rummaged past folded clothes and small pouches of herbs until her fingers found a familiar wooden container. Rising, she unlatched the lid to reveal a neat row of candied ginger pieces, glistening faintly with sugar.
"Please do eat this, everyone." She held the container out, her voice calm but sincere. "Take one, please. It's to avoid getting seasick."
One by one, the others reached in. A few chewed thoughtfully and nodded in appreciation. Others wrinkled their noses at the odd flavour but swallowed anyway—after all, they trusted the White Magis.
Then came Fifi.
When Ayumu extended the container toward him, the young man turned his head with an exaggerated huff, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His lower lip jutted out like a petulant child's.
"Hmph. I am not eating that." He sniffed. "Seasickness won't affect someone like me."
"But Sir Fifi," Ayumu said patiently, "this ship will sway more than normal vessels. The currents here are unpredictable."
"Ahh, I said I won't eat it." His gaze flicked away, then back, sharp with lingering grievance. "Plus, I am still upset with you, you pervert!"
With that, Fifi strode off across the deck, his boots thumping against the worn planks. He didn't look back. Ayumu stood frozen for a heartbeat, the container still held out in the empty air, her expression utterly blank.
Kaiser approached quietly and plucked a piece of candied ginger from the box. He popped it into his mouth, chewing once before swallowing. "Don't mind him, Lady Ayumu. He's just prickly now."
Ayumu turned to him, and a small, genuine smile touched her lips. "Just Ayumu."
Kaiser blinked. "Pardon?"
"Just call me Ayumu, Lord Kaiser." She tilted her head slightly, the sea breeze catching a few loose strands of her hair. "We are now out of Epsos. Formalties shouldn't apply here."
A faint warmth crept up the back of Kaiser's neck. He looked down for a moment, then met her eyes again, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Then you should also call me Kaiser. Just Kaiser... Ayumu."
Her smile brightened, soft as morning light through frost. "Okay."
From across the deck, near the starboard railing, Fifi watched them through narrowed eyes. The wind carried their quiet laughter to him, and his scowl deepened.
"Look at them." He muttered under his breath. "How disgusting. It's so obvious Lord Kaiser has feelings for Lady Ayumu." He kicked at a loose coil of rope. "It's painful to watch, since Lady Ayumu is so... insouciant."
Beside him, Rhea cast a wary glance toward the pair. "Watch it," she said in a low voice. "She is the royal advisor."
Fifi sniffed, "She is a pervert. That's what she is."
Rhea laughed, "Look, you're just upset she happened to see you in your pyjamas when she was confirming we were staying at the inn, okay? Let it go."
"Of course I am upset!" Fifi's voice cracked with indignation. "My privacy was intruded!"
Rhea crossed her arms. "I do suggest you take the candy. Ginger is known to be good for sea sickness."
"I don't need such candy!" Fifi thrust his chin upward, eyes blazing with misplaced pride. "I am a brave and strong warrior of the sea!"
And soon—
Bleuuuugh.
The sound of violent retching cut through the creak of ropes and the slap of waves. It came from no other than Fifi.
The ship had sailed, and as Ayumu had warned, the weather had turned foul. Dark clouds pressed low over the churning water, and the vessel rocked—not gently, but with a deep, nauseating rhythm that sent barrels sliding across the deck and sailors stumbling into one another. For someone prone to seasickness, it was a waking nightmare.
"Bleeeehhh... no... oh no..." Fifi hung over the railing, face pale as old linen. "I can't vomit anymore. There is nothing... noth— BLLEEEEHHHH!"
He slumped against the wooden rail, weak and utterly miserable, a pitiful shadow of the boastful warrior from moments ago.
Rhea watched him with dry amusement. "So much for 'brave and strong warrior of the sea'."
Levain raised a hand thoughtfully. "I can control the tides. Make the boat more stable, if needed."
Kaiser shook his head, his expression unmoved. "Don't waste your energy, Sir Levain. Let him learn his lesson."
From where the three stood, the sounds of groaning and pitiful wailing drifted across the deck like a mournful wind.
Drobar and Osmond emerged from below deck, both looking well-fed and content. Drobar held a pint of beer in each hand—one for himself, one clearly already emptied. Osmond followed quietly, wiping foam from his upper lip.
Drobar squinted at the retching figure by the railing. "What's wrong with him?" He pointed with his mug.
Levain answered simply, "Seasickness."
Drobar's brow furrowed. "I thought he was the warrior of the sea?" He took a long sip, then shrugged. "Pah. Anyway." His voice dropped to a more serious tone. "I talked to some people on this boat. They say that on this route, several ships have been capsized by monsters in the ocean within the past few months. And if this boat gets capsized too, they'll be stopping the route entirely."
Levain's expression grew thoughtful. "I don't know if we should consider ourselves lucky or not."
Rhea tilted her head. "If we are able to do something about the monster, then the trade routes will continue, right?"
Drobar nodded, then puffed out his chest. "That is—if we don't get eaten first." He patted his chest with a meaty thump. "Don't worry, Miss Rhea. I will protect you."
Rhea looked at him. Then slowly, deliberately, she rolled her eyes.
Levain, ignoring the exchange, glanced around. "Maybe Lady Ayumu can tell us more about this monster."
Kaiser's eyes suddenly widened. "Lady Ayumu..." A chill crept into his voice. "Has anyone seen her?"
Silence.
All of them looked at one another. No one could remember when they had last seen her. The seconds stretched, heavy and dreadful.
Drobar's face went pale. "If anything happens to her, we are dead. I tell you. Dead."
They scattered across the deck, searching for her briefly.
Then Osmond, usually so quiet that his presence was almost a secret, raised a single finger and pointed toward the sky.
"Is that her?"
They all looked up.
And there she was.
Ayumu stood atop the massive sail, her white robes whipping violently in the ferocious wind. She balanced effortlessly on the wooden beam as though it were a calm garden path, not a slender plank swaying dozens of feet above a churning sea. Her hair streamed wild behind her.
And she was giggling.
Not with madness, but with genuine, childlike delight. The wind snatched the sound and scattered it across the ship like silver bells.
Some of the sailors had stopped mid-task, their faces frozen in terror. One dropped a coil of rope. Another crossed himself.
"A g-g-ghost!" a sailor shrieked, pointing a trembling finger. "Ghost! We are cursed! We are all going to die!"
Panic erupted like a struck hornet's nest. Men scrambled in every direction—some diving below deck, others clutching amulets, one even dropping to his knees in prayer. The deck became a chaos of shouting and stumbling feet.
Kaiser pinched the bridge of his nose. A long, slow breath escaped him.
Drobar stared up at the giggling figure, "I am amazed how she has survived all this while."
Never in his life would Kaiser have thought he would agree with someone like Drobar.