Michael and the others made their way down to the docks. Michael had only seen them from palace windows over the last several days and he was looking forward to seeing them up close. He’d been anxious during the preparations, and was feeling equally anxious as he walked. He’d spent nearly the entire previous day of preparations throwing himself into everything he could to remain distracted. He mapped out all currently open rifts across the continent, trained with the royal guard for hours, ran the palace walls a half dozen times, and even helped haul the crates of supplies that were being sent to the ship onto wagons. All of that effort had resulted in a few blissful seconds where he wasn’t worried about his son, and nothing more. A part of his mind still screamed at him that he needed to be running straight to Burndan, damn the consequences, but he was managing to keep it under control. Those consequences were too dire for him to act the fool. Gods did he want to though.

  The docks were filled with small trading vessels and the occasional larger military ship, at least that’s what Michael assumed they were. They looked closer to something from colonial times than medieval, but he didn’t really know enough about boats to be able to tell either way. What he could tell was that the docks were busy. Men were hauling goods up and down into vessels, loud arguments could be heard between docking officials and sailors, and the narrow road that ran between large warehouses was packed. Michael hadn’t expected Old Hume to have so much maritime trade.

  Ollie inhaled deeply behind him. “That’s some fresh sea air alright. Why don’t we skip all of this saving the world stuff and have some beers on the beach?”

  “I’m game,” said Marcus. “As long as you buy the beers.”

  “I’m royalty, they give me my beers for free now.”

  “Ah yes, his highness Ollie, Lord of the ass-end plains or some such. What a mighty royal you are,” said Pyotr with a smile.

  “Thank you,” replied Ollie.

  Michael smiled at the banter. It had been a long time since the group had been together and on their way to another adventure. The talk of beers on the beach reminded him of Davi. He remembered how happy the man had been to be able to sink his feet into the sand on the shore of the Lake of Beasts. Seeing the ocean spread out in front of them like this, Michael imagined Davi would’ve insisted on doing the same here.

  The path in front of them was cleared by a royal escort. Men in fine suits of shining armor wearing the grey-blue cloaks of Hume. It was mostly for show, but considering they were meant to be part of a diplomatic retinue it made sense. They had to make sure that everything looked as legitimate as possible. The part of diplomat was being played by a man named Shreve. He was middle aged with thick brown mutton chops and shrewd eyes. The rest of them were playing the parts of bodyguards or assistants along with assumed names. As one of their main trading partners Stent and Hume had good relations and so groups like theirs weren’t uncommon. Of course most of those groups weren’t on their way to slay Stent’s king, but Michael was sure they’d had their own problems to deal with.

  Bayle and Crittenden or ‘Crick’ as they knew them had left Stent on a smaller shipping vessel earlier in the day for Stent. Michael was glad to be free of them for a bit. Bayle had been eyeing him like a vulture eyes a carcass since he’d interrupted his meeting with the king. Not because he was upset at the interruption, but because he had likely inferred that Michael had a new secret, one that was meant only for the king and a few others, and that made him want to sniff it out. Michael could hardly blame the man, it was his job after all, but it did make finding himself in conversation with him feel perilous.

  They were led to what seemed to be the largest vessel at the dock. A…frigate? Michael wanted to guess. It had three large sails, and a deck big enough to joust on. They were escorted all the way up to the plank leading to the bridge and followed Shreve’s confident strides up and onto the ship. A man wearing a long coat that seemed to be made of silver fishscales that Michael guessed was from a titled beast, as well as a wool cap with a red feather sticking from it greeted Shreve with a handshake.

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  “Welcome back aboard, sir.”

  Shreve nodded. “I look forward to another trip on your esteemed vessel, Ramsay.”

  The man bowed his head slightly in response. Michael readjusted his estimation of Shreve in that moment while the man he presumed was the captain of the vessel they had boarded stepped toward them.

  “I know master Shreve is already aware of the rules of the vessel, but let me lay things out for the rest of you. This is The Pride of Hume and I am her captain. No matter what rank you are or whether or not you saved Lataxia I outrank you when you are onboard my vessel. When I give an order I expect it followed.” He paused to take a breath and looked pointedly at Ollie in his wizard hat. “No magic while on board. Unless I give the okay. It affects our navigation equipment and a number of other sensitive parts of the ship.” He looked at Michael. “No armor on board. It should go without saying, but you’d be surprised how many men are eager to drown.” He regarded them all generally. “Aside from that, treat the crew with respect, meals are at dawn, midday, and dusk, and I’ll have my third show you to your cabins.”

  With that another sailor appeared, this one wearing a simple thinly woven sweater and escorted them to the far end of the ship and under the deck where there was a surprisingly spacious room with four hammocks and an unexpectedly large amount of room to stretch and place their things.

  Michael tossed his bag next to one of the hammocks in the corner and leaned against it, bracing himself against it as he rocked back and forth. He could vaguely feel the movement of the ship as it bobbed in the dock.

  “So, what do you think’s more likely to happen, attacked by a kraken or waylaid by pirates?” asked Ollie.

  “I was hoping for beautiful mermaids or sirens myself,” said Pyotr, perfectly balanced sitting up in the hammock.

  “I was hoping to get some sleep,” said Marcus, already laying down on one of the hammocks. “And maybe see if the sailors have some dice games going. Now I’m worried that you two have cursed us though.”

  “Are you sure gambling is a good idea?” asked Michael. “You won’t have anywhere to run to if you wind up owing more than you’ve got.”

  “I’m not too worried about dealing with a few sailors. I’m sure we can figure something out.”

  “Like you figured out your debts in Southwind, back in Swandia?” asked Michael.

  Marcus sat up a bit, his hammock rocking hard. “How did you know about those?”

  Michael smiled back at him.

  “They tried to collect it from you eh?” He shook his head and settled back down. “Idiots. I almost feel bad for them.”

  “Don’t feel too bad. I was able to give them a very good lesson about the gods. Had them all praying by the end of it.”

  “Ugh. By the time you’re done here I won’t have anyone to be a degenerate with.”

  Michael shrugged. “I don’t know. We had plenty of godly degenerates back on Earth. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

  “I appreciate your confidence in me,” he replied.

  There was a pause in the conversation as they all got their things settled in, and another hour after that they felt the ship leave the dock and start to move. Michael was tempted to go out onto the deck to see the ocean, but he was finally feeling sleepy for the first time since he’d found out about Gabriel. He hadn’t slept in days, but the rocking of the hammock and the feel of the moving boat slowly lulled him into it.

  In his half-dozing state he realized his frustration wasn’t just at his current inability to help his son, but with the gods as well. He didn’t blame them wholly for his arrival in this world, nor did he fully blame himself any longer, but he was angry that they had kept the fact that his son was there from him. He hadn’t prayed since he found out, except for those who had asked him to pray for them or their loved ones. He understood that when they were the divine they were acting more on a kind of instinct than with any awareness, but he’d been across the battlefield from his son when he’d found Estaid, when he’d completed his pilgrimage.

  He saw it from their side as well though. He’d just lost Davi, how would he have reacted to that knowledge in that moment? Not to mention his responsibilities in the south. What if he hadn’t been in Hume for the last several months? How many would’ve died?

  He let out a long exhalation. He couldn’t rationalize the anger away, but he knew it would fade. Time was what it needed, as always, as frustrating as that was. He fell asleep.