Ocean spray hit the ship’s broadside like white grapeshot as it slid over another wave.

The rhythm of the seas in Alerar’s waters was far more violent than those of Corone’s, and a single-sailed vessel like theirs felt it more than the slower and hardier trading vessels that were typical of the merchants and smugglers. Shinsou imagined that his friend back in Stonevale, Preston, had braved such seas in search of profit from the trade of all manner of goods in this backwater region. As he perched himself on the starboard side of the ship, and tried not to vomit in front of the others, he made a mental note to ask the trader how his stomach coped with the trip when he returned.

The boat lurched forward once more, and the Telgradian staggered and spun before righting himself and hurling beige matter overboard into the murky green below. He watched grimly as the thin film of stomach contents drifted on the surface, and felt the bitter, acidic burn in his throat subside.

"Are you ok?”

Celandine came over, putting a hand on his back as Shinsou wiped the remnants of vomit on his white sleeve. It was the first time he had really had the opportunity to speak to her. Like Philomel, she had turned out to be pretty, in a somewhat delicate sense. It looked as if one of the delegation had covered the rest of her person in a warm, bulky robe to keep her from the chill of the high seas. In spite of this there was still a sense of noble bearing about her slender frame, which was in stark contrast to Shinsou’s “rough and ready” look.

Certainly so whilst he was cleaning up his own sick.

“Megalomaniacal wizards? Fine. Psychotic, nine-tailed, magically enhanced brothel owners? No problem. But put me on a boat, Celandine?” Shinsou chuckled, groaning slightly, “Heh. Apparently, I’m just not cut out for ocean travel. Look at Umbra over there…now there’s a guy who can stomach a boat trip.”

His eyes fixated on the looming, silent spectre of his compatriot, and what a spectre it was. The plate metal wrapped around it served as an impregnable bulwark as far as Umbra was concerned, both for body and persona. They had taken down the Higanabana brothel together in Stonevale, and the armoured goliath had proven to be a truly formidable fighting machine. The Telgradian couldn’t, however, put a finger on exactly what was driving that being underneath. He wasn’t even sure what it was. He could, however, see the good in it, having watched it crashed angrily against its enemies to protect many innocent women. Even so, there was still an inhospitable difference between them. Umbra was the unknown quantity that could make or break their plan.

In any case, Shinsou refused to get too hemmed in on that issue. By the time they got stuck into Alerar proper, it wouldn’t matter whether they could swap pleasantries over a campfire or not. Shinsou knew the demons in those granite mountains ahead were waiting, just behind the layered rows of jagged teeth that threatened to swallow all approaching vessels whole. They didn’t care one bit who was talking to who, or whom was working for whom. They would just kill anything with a pulse, indiscriminately. That included Shinsou, and everyone on this boat.

He felt like now was a good time to remind everybody of this fact, as his attention focused on the one gap in the cliffs ahead, the one source of sanctuary towards which the vessel upon which he now stood gamely toiled.

“We’re mooring at what we’re told is a safe, designated landing spot, but don’t believe it. Be ready for anything,” Shinsou said, pointing towards the gap in the cliffs. “It doesn’t take long for a situation to change, and we’ve been in transit, without any form of communication now, for two days. The port of Antega could have fallen to the demons in that time, and if so we’ll need to moor further upshore at Malgrior. So, make sure you all stick to me and Umbra like glue at all times.”

“Unlikely,” the Radasanthian delegation’s main negotiator, the man called Troy who had spoken with Shinsou in his office, answered. He was still wearing the same clothes from the other day, but this time had a hood over his straw coloured hair. Only eyes of piercing light blue shone out from underneath, accented by a touch of middle age in his cheeks. “The citizens of Antega were very careful in how they built the settlement. When they wanted a port to ensure trade, they were not willing to expose themselves to any danger. So, they carved the harbour into the rocks instead, to make sure that none could strike at it, and built a large perimeter wall. The demons have more pressing matters north, and I don’t think they would waste time and resources on such a small target. We can moor there.”

“Well, there you have it!” Shinsou, his tone dripping with sarcasm, shrugged. “He doesn’t think the demons will be there. Phew. That’s put my mind at ease! How about all of you?” The Telgradian braced himself against the next wave and relaxed as it passed beneath them. Umbra didn’t even seem to notice it.

The man appeared to grit his teeth, quietly seething at the tactless rebuff. “Shinsou, I-”

Osiris’s eyes were fixed on the growing spires in the distance, the sprawl of buildings nestled around high walls and impregnable cliffs. He pointed to the thick wisps of black that had just started to rise above the land as their vessel gamely approached the cliffs from the southwest.

“There, look there. That's smoke. It is always the first thing you look for. Why? Because it never lies. An encampment, or an imminent or ongoing attack. It doesn't matter; smoke always gives you away. What does that look like to you, Troy?”

The Radasanthian delegate tried to mask his distaste with a hasty smile. “A siege. As you say, situations change.”

“Yes, they do. Thankfully, the demons saw fit to alert us to their presence before we put our boots on Antega’s shore. Captain, steer us away from the coast and moor us further up please. The last thing we need to do is give them an easy target.” Troy was spared further ire from Shinsou as the captain called for sails to be unfurled. The crewmates around them scurried to obey with respectful salutes.

The white coated spellsword studied the occupants of the ship for a moment, checking for any signs of stress or worry, or any other reaction. Celandine, most of the delegation and Umbra all seemed focused and relaxed enough, whilst Troy played his part well. They all knew the demons were just over the horizon, although not what they potentially faced, and that Shinsou’s suggestion was wise. They all knew that they had to be prepared for the worst as much as possible.

Everything, for now, was going according to plan.

Satisfied that all was in order for the moment, the Telgradian turned back to the slit in the cliffs to the fore, edging away now with every successive swell. It was impressive to behold; larger than any feat of engineering that he had come across before. The solemn gazes of a pair of sentinel statues faced out onto the ocean and questioned their passing, eroded and worn by the whim of the ocean.

The ship inched slowly towards their new destination, the port town of Malgrior, and what Shinsou knew to be a date with destiny.