There was quite a distance between the two women and Arthur, but he kept glancing over his shoulder to track their movements.
"Who is Herald?" he asked. The girl walking in front of Theodora blinked, surprised by the question.
'Uh oh'
Arthur bit his tongue, instantly regretting it. He hadn't wanted to make it obvious he wasn't from here or that he didn't know what this conflict was about. Dilemmas like this weren't uncommon for those chosen by the Hex. These trials always threw one into a world vastly different from reality, with its own culture, history, and people. The wisest move was always to blend in.
And most importantly—
I'm a rebel. Same kind that's hated by downstream folk like the navy. And the navy's here under some weirdo called the Herald, waging war against someone. Then there's a Last Spire too…
Arthur pieced together what little he had overheard, though the full picture remained obscure. It was even possible that the conflict of this trial would erupt at the top of the cliff, where everyone had gathered.
But he had no intention of going there willingly.
"He is Lady Thyra's bed warmer," the girl replied flatly.
Arthur froze, watching both women stop as well. He stared at them like he had just heard something he absolutely wasn't supposed to.
"…Okay." It was not what he expected.
For instance, "The Herald is a king of some faraway kingdom" or "a dragon slayer"… not a fucking bed warmer.
Arthur tried to stifle a laugh but failed when he saw Theodora swat the girl on the back of the head.
"The Herald is the messenger of the moon goddess. But that is not important at the moment—we must reach the bottom of the cliff before it rises," Theodora said firmly, speaking as if Arthur couldn't possibly understand. He just nodded.
The path spiraled around the cliff, each rotation a reminder of one fact: the sheer size of the ship tethered alongside it.
Why the hell do they need a ship that big? His curiosity burned, but Theodora's nervous, hurried manner kept him from asking aloud.
Once in a while, she murmured something to the girl—whose name was Iris.
Iris was mostly taciturn, never speaking a word, her head low as she walked. Neither friendly nor hostile, just… there.
Arthur quickened his pace as the path drew them lower. The black, opaque water below was calm and serene, but something about it unsettled him deeply.
Anything but falling into that, he warned himself, making a mental note never to even touch the water.
Soon, the path bent sharply to the right, and Arthur found himself staring at what looked like the mouth of a cave. The track continued downward, likely toward the water's level—but Arthur felt like this was exactly where he was meant to be.
He waited for Theodora to catch up. The moment she did, she wasted no words and stepped inside.
"Faster, before the guards catch up," she ordered.
Arthur didn't move until both women were in front of him and had gained some distance. Only then did he untie the lamp from his waist and hold it ahead, lighting the way.
Theodora glanced at him briefly before continuing, tugging Iris along.
Inside, the stench hit him immediately. It came from the moss coating every surface. With each step, Arthur's boots pressed into it, releasing a slimy, gooey substance.
He realized the floor was subtly sloping downward. Other than the moss, there was nothing unusual—just a steady descent.
It happened quicker than he expected. One moment they were winding along a cliff in the middle of nowhere; the next, they were striding out of a cave onto a beach.
"Well, fuck me."
The cave led them into a small bay-like area. The stone beneath their feet gave way to wet sand, though the rocky ceiling still arched above, making the place resemble a one-sided cove carved into the cliff's bottom.
Arthur's attention immediately went to the obvious—floating on the shallow water was a boat, tied to a wooden pole stabbed into the sand to keep it anchored in place. It was small, nearly the size of a cutter.
"Mother!"
Inside the boat were two young men. One wore a brown tunic, his blonde hair and tanned complexion marking him apart—he stood taller than the one beside him. The other had brown hair, dusky skin, and leather armor covering his vitals, a sheathed dagger strapped to his waist.
"Oh, my child!"
Theodora was already sprinting toward them. The shorter man leapt from the boat and fell into her embrace. She bawled as she clutched him tightly, caressing his hair as if he had just returned from a war.
Arthur reattached the lamp to his waist to avoid staring at them for too long. He stepped closer to the edge of the beach. Cold water lapped against his toes before swallowing his feet up to the ankles.
Before him stretched nothing but endless water, tinted crimson here and there.
"Adrien, where is your brother?" Theodora's voice made Arthur turn.
Her son glanced back at the taller man, who sighed before answering. "We left Borat in the temple below. We'll return for him once the Last Spire is conquered."
Theodora swallowed whatever words she had meant to say and simply nodded. "That's… that's great. You should leave now. The guards saw me slip away with Iris—they could be here any moment."
Adrien nodded and reached for Iris's hand, but she immediately slapped it away.
"It's not the time to be difficult, Iris! You're leaving now—with your brother!" Theodora grabbed her daughter's shoulders, tears brimming in her eyes. She shook like a leaf clinging to a branch, refusing to let go.
Iris, still dazed, offered no resistance as Adrien pulled her toward the boat.
Arthur stood off to the side, watching. He felt like an intruder, as if he had stepped into something he was never meant to see.
Iris boarded the boat. Theodora collapsed onto the sand, weeping, while her son began cutting the rope.
Arthur shivered. His feet felt cold—no, wrong. He glanced down. The water no longer submerged his ankles; he was standing on wet sand, with the tide behind him. He stepped back instinctively, into the water again—and within seconds it receded from under his soles.
"Hey! You coming or not?" the taller man shouted from the boat.
Arthur froze, trapped in a place he couldn't understand.
Theodora noticed and urged him on. Why, Arthur didn't know. But the fear of staying rooted there overwhelmed him. Without thinking, he bolted forward, his feet slapping against the wet sand until he leapt into the boat just as the rope was cut loose.