For the remainder of the voyage, a heavy silence settled between Kaiser and Ayumu. They moved through the same spaces, yet existed in separate worlds.
Ayumu acted as though nothing had happened.
She smiled when spoken to. She helped the sailors with small tasks. She sat with Rhea during meals and answered questions in her usual gentle manner. But when Rhea asked if she was truly all right, Ayumu's smile would flicker—just for an instant—and she would say, "I'm fine," before turning her attention elsewhere.
Everyone knew she was not fine.
And everyone knew the cause.
Kaiser kept his distance. He ate alone, stood apart, and spoke only when necessary. His red eyes avoided hers with practiced precision. Whatever battle raged within him, he showed none of it. Only the occasional tightening of his jaw betrayed him.
The sailors, sensing the tension, kept their songs to themselves. Even the sea seemed quieter.
At last, on the second morning after the incident, land appeared on the horizon—first as a smudge, then as a shoreline dotted with weathered buildings and wooden docks. The ship would soon reach shore.
Ayumu retreated below deck to prepare.
When she emerged, she was transformed—or rather, hidden. Thick robes now covered her from neck to ankle, the fabric a dull, unremarkable grey. A long hood draped over her head, its shadow falling across her eyes. Only her lips and chin remained visible.
A White Magis was a valuable asset. Too valuable. If word spread that one was traveling through these lands, there would be problems—kidnappers, cultists, nobles who wished to "acquire" her power. Discretion was not merely wise. It was survival.
Rhea watched Ayumu adjust her hood and sighed. "You look like a wandering monk."
Ayumu tilted her head beneath the hood. "Is that bad?"
"No," Rhea admitted. "It's probably perfect."
The ship docked with a gentle thud. Wood groaned against wood. Ropes were thrown and tied. The gangplank lowered.
The expedition members gathered their belongings and prepared to disembark. Their first destination was a village not far from the harbour, where they would stay the night at an inn. After that, they would begin the true journey - Paititi, the supposed lost city of gold.
As they walked down the gangplank, the soldiers who had traveled with them lined the railing. They called out their goodbyes—not to the expedition, but to their saviour.
"Farewell, Lady Ayumu!"
"May the winds guide you!"
"You'll always be welcome aboard!"
Ayumu grew visibly shy beneath her hood. Her cheeks flushed pink above the fabric's edge. She bowed slightly—a small, elegant dip of her head—and waved once, her fingers fluttering like a bird's wing.
Then she darted forward, hurrying down the dock as if fleeing the attention.
Rhea giggled seeing Ayumu. So cute.
Then her gaze slid to Kaiser, walking a few paces behind, his expression carved from stone.
Her smile died.
She glared at him—a sharp, burning look that would have set a lesser man aflame. Kaiser noticed. Of course he noticed. But he did not acknowledge her. He simply walked on, his eyes fixed straight ahead.
That infuriated Rhea even more.
So what if the feelings he has are swayed by his ancestor? she thought bitterly, her boots striking the wooden planks with unnecessary force. You just need to confirm your feelings for yourself. Not shove Ayumu aside so rudely like that.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides.
She hated Black Magis before. Now she hated them even more.
The walk from the harbour to the village took the better part of a day.
The road was well-traveled but unpaved—dirt and gravel packed hard by countless feet and wagon wheels. On either side, fields of tall grass swayed in the coastal breeze, dotted occasionally with wildflowers. The sky was wide and pale blue, streaked with thin clouds.
They walked in clusters. Rhea stayed close to Ayumu, chatting about small things to fill the silence. Levain and Fifi walked together, debating some arcane point of magical theory. Osmond carried the heaviest pack without complaint, his quiet presence steady as a stone. Drobar brought up the rear, occasionally humming tavern songs off-key.
Kaiser walked at the front.
Alone.
No one spoke to him. No one tried. As if showing protest.
By the time the village came into view, the sun had begun its slow descent toward the horizon.
The village was small—perhaps fifty buildings in total. But despite its size, it had a good number of people. The streets were busy with merchants, travellers, and locals going about their day. Carts loaded with goods creaked along the main road. Children darted between adults' legs, laughing.
Being so close to a dangerous forest would have killed a lesser settlement. But this village had something else: proximity to the harbour. Trade ships came and went, bringing goods from distant lands. The safe part of the forest provided rare herbs and woods for those brave—or foolish—enough to harvest them. Business, it seemed, was good.
Today, the village was bustling. Shopkeepers called out to passersby. A fishmonger argued with a customer over prices. Two old men sat on barrels, playing a quiet game of cards.
The expedition team drew a few curious glances but no more. Travellers, after all, were common here. But the magis people usually would stand out with their ethereal features and odd coloured hair.
Kaiser led them through the main street, his gaze scanning the buildings until he found what he sought. He stopped before a two-story structure with a wooden sign swinging above the door: The Wanderer's Rest.
"We will be staying at this inn," he announced, turning to face the group. His voice was all business—no warmth, no room for argument. "You all rest up. I will be gathering information from the local guild."
He looked at Rhea. "Ms. Rhea, check on supplies later. Others will help you with it."
Then his gaze shifted. "And Sir Drobar."
Drobar blinked, pointing at himself. "Me?"
"Follow me."
Drobar looked confused but shrugged. "Alright then." He hefted his pack and stepped away from the group, falling into step behind Kaiser.
The others watched them go.
"Well," Levain said after a moment, "I suppose we should get our rooms."
Rhea said nothing. Her eyes followed Kaiser's retreating back with undisguised loathing.
Ayumu, hidden beneath her hood, simply stood quietly—her small hands clasped in front of her, her face invisible to the world.
----------------------------------------------------------
Drobar followed Kaiser through the winding streets of the village until they reached a building that stood apart from the others. A carved sign above the door read The Seeker's Guild in letters worn smooth by wind and time.
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of old parchment, pipe smoke, and something earthier—like roots dug from deep forest soil. A few rough-looking individuals sat at scattered tables, nursing drinks or studying maps. They looked up when the two men entered, eyes sharp and assessing, then returned to their business.
Kaiser approached the counter, but Drobar lingered near him with his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword.
"Something is bothering you, isn't it?" Drobar asked quietly.
Kaiser's red eyes swept across the room before answering. "You feel it too. It's as if the air here is heavy. We are not even in the forest yet."
Drobar opened his mouth to respond—then froze.
A figure had appeared beside him out of nowhere.
The man was tall and lean, dressed in tribal garments, his face hidden behind a carved wooden mask painted with symbols Drobar did not recognize. The eyeholes were dark, unreadable.
"You are all planning to go into the forest, aren't you?" The voice that emerged from behind the mask was calm—almost pleasant. "You must have a bloody death wish."
Drobar took a step back, his hand tightening on his sword. "What the heck is wrong with this person?"
Kaiser studied the masked figure. When he spoke, his voice was measured. "What we do is our own business. But we need to know what you know about the forest." He reached into his coat and pulled out a small bag of coins—silver, by the weight of it. "Of course, we will pay."
The masked man tilted his head, the gesture oddly birdlike. "My, how generous." He made no move to take the bag. "I'll tell you about the forest, but... I won't take your payment."
Kaiser's brow furrowed. "Why not?"
A pause. Then, softly: "Doesn't feel good to take money from people who are about to die."
Kaiser's jaw tightened. Anger flickered in his crimson eyes. "Enough with your petty act," he said, his voice sharp as a blade's edge. "Just tell us what we need to know."
The masked man laughed—a low, rumbling sound. "Wow. So feisty."
He turned and walked deeper into the guild, his bare feet silent on the wooden floor. Several patrons had risen from their seats, hands on weapons, eyes fixed on the newcomers. The masked man waved a lazy hand at them.
"Stand down," he said. "They're with me."
The tension in the room eased, though grudgingly.