Malgrior used to be a sleepy fishing village and had been devoid of incidents since the Raiaeran campaign. Thanks in equal parts to Troy’s ineptitude, Umbra’s brutality and the demon’s insurgency, it now looked nothing short of a war zone.

Shinsou Vaan Osiris had been thrown against the ship’s mast on impact with the pier, briefly concussed as the back of his head collided with the heavy oak beam, and had slumped against it into a half-conscious heap. A few moments passed before the Telgradian woke up, but when he did, he was greeted with a veritable nightmare; the part caused by Troy’s ineptitude. Their vessel was wrecked. The hull had split into multiple pieces, which were strewn and stranded against the jagged coastal rocks beneath the pier onto which the vessel had been steered. Deep within the dark chasms that now separated the splintered remnants of the vessel, Shinsou could see all the way down to the quarters and then the supply decks. Crates had been overturned and their contents emptied into the rising ocean. The Telgradian frowned as he watched the navy green sea send the sacks of grain, barrels of fresh water and gunpowder, books and camping gear to a watery oblivion. The upper decks seemed doused with crimson, and a quick head count suggested at least three were missing, including Celandine.

Shit! Fucking shit! Shinsou hissed, frantically surveying the cracks of the boat for the young Faun. As much as it had been a mistake to allow Troy to have the run of the show and the ship, it was perhaps an even greater error to let Celandine come at all. She was never a part of his plan, and now..

There. At the bottom of the supply deck, Shinsou could see the Faun rescuing what texts she could from the unforgiving grasp of the ocean.

“Celandine! Get out of there, leave them! Oh, shi-”

The mast behind him had finally failed and snapped in half, soaring through the hazy incandescence towards him. Shinsou dived instinctively as It shattered the decking planks like crystal upon bedrock on impact, sliding to a rest at a forty five degrees angle between the upper deck and the supply deck where Celandine was stranded.

“Climb the mast!” His voice bellowed down to the centre of the room, “You can-“

A wailing shriek cut him off, echoing harrowingly across the deck and instantly chilling every muscle in his body. Shinsou’s arcanely-attuned senses detected the approach of something evil. Another shriek pierced the air, followed closely by a third.

It was looking for them.

The sinewy demon crawled into view from the upturned bow of the boat. It’s long, salivating tongue swung from a burned face whose only discernible feature was the scarlet glow in its eyes. Tall and powerful, it landed with a thump just ahead of Shinsou and leaned forward, slashing malevolently at the insignificantly diminutive Telgradian with razor sharp claws. Shinsou needed no second invitation. He called quickly upon Enpera’s power to grant him greater speed and carved the air before him with a sword strike that shimmered with raw, blue power. The blade met little resistance as it sheared through flesh and bone and, with an agonised screech, the demons eyes flickered once and faded. The remains of its carcass self-immolated in a searing white flame, but by that time Shinsou had already rolled clear, smearing his coat in pools of gore.

The progressive deterioration of the situation around him had been matched only by a growing sense of dread about the threat of overwhelming demonic adversity. As he clambered to his knees, he watched as Celandine clambered the last section of the wooden mast to the top deck.

“Are you hurt?” Shinsou looked the faun up and down. She seemed physically okay, for now, but could see her staring morbidly at the ruined stores below. “Leave them, It’s too late for that now. We need to move. There…” Shinsou’s finger pointed towards the city, where Umbra had carved a bloody corridor through a small number of demons physically similar to the one he had killed moments ago. “Let’s go.”

Through a newly falling misty rain, the pair ran from the deck of the annihilated ship and leapt onto the pier together. Shinsou’s livery of faded white, stained with blood, slunk through sheets of falling grey towards the apparently unharmed delegation ahead. Iron-capped leather boots splashed through gory and muddy puddles formed in potholes of neglected cobbles as Umbra approached them quietly but assuredly. Troy and his band followed in tow.

“Not that you need a pat on the back from me, but you did well, Umbra,” Shinsou acknowledged. “Those demons looked like some sort of advanced scouting party, probably up from Antega. You can bet your shiny metal rear that there will be more on the way soon, though.”

Thoughts of their situation coursed with equal swiftness through Shinsou’s mind. Every inhalation fed him the chill of the ocean wind, of the steaming putrification of the demon’s corpses and his own sweat. Every exhalation escaped as a plume of vapour into the rain. His golden eyes once again washed over the cold, tired and worn faces, until they fell upon Troy.

Which reminds me…

“You...” The Telgradian angrily stomped over to the Radasanthian delegate, “You stupid, self centered, arrogant little bastard!”

Troy’s eyes widened in shock as the Brotherhood’s leader gripped his cloak with one hand and held him an inch off the ground, turning his head towards the shipwreck with a powerful punch. The delegate’s body swayed from side to side before the Telgradian grunted and placed him back down, every now and again casting a fierce glance over his shoulder to remind the Radasanthian councilor of his ire. After a minute, he turned to the remainder of the crew, their party and Umbra and Celandine, and shook his head.

"Two crew members dead, a week’s worth of supplies lost to the sea and our ship home spread across the Alerarian coastline. I’m only surprised you didn’t find time to get us all killed, too, Troy. It’s only by some miracle of the Thaynes and Umbra’s sword that we’re still here."

Flicking sodden strands of dark hair out of his face, Shinsou looked up at each of them with rage reddening his cheeks.

"Troy, do you think you're bombproof to us because you're kicking up salutes to the Assembly? I'm here to tell you that you aren't. You pull shit like that again, and I swear to the Thaynes above that by the time i'm done with you, you'll think you've been fucked by an Alerarian steamtrain. Let me make something fucking clear to all of you; there is no margin for error anymore with this mission. From now on, we do things my way.” He immediately regretted his uncharacteristic outburst, as it was hardly the fault of Celandine or Umbra, but Troy deserved it and more besides. There was an awkward silence before the Telgradian exhaled, and shook his head. Unchecked emotion served no purpose.

“Good. I think we understand each other. Now, let’s get out of here. Celandine, lead us on.”

As they walked on towards town silently, he caught sight of his reflection in one of the many bloodied puddles that dotted the pier’s concourse. A dirtied face stared back at him, with circles of weariness above his cheeks visible even in the dim light. Shinsou stopped for a moment as he looked back towards an Alerarian sea in turmoil.
Only now did Shinsou remember the note that he had been handed by Storm Veritas before he left. It was still on his desk, but he closed his eyes and remembered what was written. At the end of it all, there were three words.

Remember the spoon.

A determined expression touched his face for the briefest of moments. To anyone else, the words were nonsensical. To the Brotherhood’s leaders, it was both a code and a promise to each other. It was powered by a single memory; the horrific sight of the severed hand of a small child, burned alive whilst still clutching a spoon amongst the Whitevale wreckage after Arius Mephisto’s assault. It had served as a reminder of what happened when they had let their weakness go unchecked. It acted as a catalyst to their actions and motives, reminding them of their duty to stay ahead in the game and to never let anyone else get the better of them, lest others suffer for it.

It was also a message; an important one. Shinsou held those words close, as both of them knew their importance and context here in this place.

With that, the spellsword turned and started to walk again silently alongside the pair Celandine and Umbra, down the pier and along the town path towards their destination. Troy disdainfully watched Shinsou ahead of him, blue eyes steady and red robes ruffling as the ocean winds themselves bade them goodbye from Malgrior.