The train slowed just before dawn.
Alfred hadn't slept. He had been sitting upright the entire night, eyes open, listening to every shift of metal and rail. When the brakes screeched, he leaned down and shook Vale's shoulder.
"Wake up," Alfred said quietly. "We're here."
Vale stirred, blinking as the cold air rushed in through the open door.
The whistle screamed once more as the train crawled into the station.
They jumped down onto the platform before anyone noticed and moved quickly, keeping their heads low. The station was small, worn, and quiet—nothing like the city they had fled.
Vale stopped walking.
In front of him stretched the port.
Ships rested along the docks, their dark silhouettes cutting into the pale morning fog. Lanterns flickered weakly, reflecting off wet wood and frozen ropes. The air smelled of salt, oil, and something old.
"Oh…" Vale whispered. "The port."
He stared for a full minute before Alfred pulled him forward.
"What are you looking at?" Alfred asked.
"It's beautiful," Vale said. "And terrifying."
"We don't have time for either," Alfred replied. "We need a boat."
Vale gestured toward the docks. "There are plenty. We can just ask."
Alfred shook his head. "We need someone who doesn't ask questions."
Before Vale could respond, Alfred grabbed their luggage and started moving fast toward the smaller boats.
"Hey—wait!" Vale hissed, hurrying after him.
A wooden boat slowed near the dock. At the helm stood a young woman—slim, alert, wrapped in a light pink coat that looked completely out of place in the cold.
"Where to?" she asked.
Alfred didn't hesitate. "The islands. North."
The woman frowned. "That's vague."
Alfred met her eyes. "So is our situation."
She studied them for a moment, then nodded. "Get in."
They stepped onto the boat.
The instant Vale's foot touched the wood, his chest tightened.
Not violently—just enough to notice.
He froze.
The woman noticed. "Careful," she said. "This boat doesn't like hesitation."
Vale swallowed and forced himself forward.
The engine sputtered to life, and the boat pulled away from the dock.
"I'm Anna," the woman said. "And you?"
"Vale.""Alfred."
"Where are you from?" Anna asked. "I know most faces here."
Vale and Alfred exchanged a glance.
Vale slipped extra money into her hand—more than the fare.
Anna looked at it, then smiled faintly. "Good answer."
They moved away from the cabin, letting the sound of water mask their voices.
"What's on the islands?" Vale asked quietly.
Alfred didn't answer immediately.
"Something you've never seen," he said finally. "Something everyone wants."
Vale frowned. "That sounds like trouble."
"There's a treasure reserve," Alfred continued. "Kept under royal protection. King Maryn's inheritance."
Vale's eyes widened. "You mean… sacred?"
Alfred nodded. "They tied it to their god. Makes it untouchable."
Vale let out a slow breath. "That's complicated."
"That's why I need you," Alfred said. "We can steal it. But we can't sell it."
Vale looked at him sharply. "So you're using me."
Alfred didn't deny it.
"I was a merchant once," Alfred said, staring at the water. "The sea was my home. Pirates took my ship. Insurance ruined me. Courts sided with money. Law protects the rich."
He clenched his jaw. "So I stopped believing in it."
The boat slowed suddenly.
Anna stepped out of the cabin.
"I heard everything," she said calmly.
Alfred's hand moved toward his pocket. "That was a mistake."
Anna shrugged. "Throwing me into the ocean won't help. You need a town. A place to disappear."
She smiled slightly. "Better to go as a family."
Vale felt the pressure in his chest shift.
The sea rolled beneath them, indifferent.
To be continued