Chapter 6 Nicolo-1

Ebb tide, ebb tide. Sacred earth. Feeble sunlight. Palms clenched involuntarily, as insects scurry between fingers through the leaked mud and sand. A fishy smell. The side of the calf slick as if coated with fish scales. Cold, but not as cold as being in snow. Wind, the wind blowing from the sea. A torn corner of a skirt flapping in the wind. The scent of seawater in the breath, yet subtle. Splinters of wood that scarred the lips now mere grains of sand in the sea.

Crecyda opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was the index finger of her left hand. She sat up, tearing away the seaweed tangled around her calf. Beneath it was a cut, the skin around the wound bubbled soft and white. No big deal, she thought, and got up. She wobbled a bit before steadying herself.

She looked at the white sky, then around. To the west stretched the coastline endlessly, while in the distance to the east, the walls of Stromgarde were visible. Her shoes were gone, and she walked barefoot on the sandy shore.

I've escaped, Crecyda thought. But when she saw the arrow piercing the body of the attendant last night, she didn't think this. Perhaps it was a pirate patrol boat; the attendant was shot shortly after uttering those words. He bent down, trying to shield Crecyda's body. "Don't move, don't make a sound, they won't be interested in our small boat." He whispered as he said this, drops of blood from his chest landing on Crecyda's shoulder, the broken arrow lying next to her neck. After the pirates on the deck shot a second arrow, the pirate ship departed.

"Madam, we should get to shore sooner. Pirates might change their minds. We can't stay on the sea any longer. But it's not far enough yet; we're still within the sight of Stromgarde's watchtower. Once ashore, head west. I'll hide the boat." "But your wound— I'm fine. It's not just about protecting you, madam. We can't let them realize someone has left Stromgarde by sea. Otherwise, Lord Jorgen will be disappointed in me."

So, in the night, Crecyda left the attendant at the small boat and walked west alone. At that moment, she still didn't know if she had escaped. She just walked and then collapsed from fatigue, falling into a deep sleep.

Now where to? She said to herself. She instinctively reached to gather her wet hair but found nothing. She remembered her hair had turned to ashes with the body of another woman. She couldn't decide whether to continue west, as Jorgen had said to wait for her on the coast. Specifically, wait where? Wait for whom? I don't even know if Jorgen managed to escape.

Still no sign of people, nor any other living creature. The seaside always felt desolate. But almost every living thing except humans on the Arathi Highlands was dangerous. Can't go north alone. I'll wait, just wait here for them to come. Standing is tiring, I'll sit down, but not lie down. Sitting on the damp rocks, perhaps watching the sea—

Crecyda spotted a gray-brown horse. As she looked, it lifted its head. If it hadn't, she might not have noticed it, just considering it a spot to ignore in the distance. She walked over, hoping the horse wouldn't leave. It didn't.

The horse was saddled, no one else around. It had a four-foot-long scar on its flank, Crecyda couldn't discern how it was formed or how long ago. She stood a few steps away from it for a while, staring into its eyes. It remained quiet.

"Where's your master?" Crecyda said, trying to stroke its mane. She noticed a bag hanging next to the saddle, so she unhooked it and opened it. It contained horse feed. A few letters were sewn onto the bag with crooked black thread.

Crecyda took out some horse feed and sprinkled it on a flat stone in front of the horse. "Nicolo," she said as it lowered its head to eat, "is this your name or your master's?"

She tied the bag back, hanging it in its original place. It finished the food, then lifted its head again.

A horse without a master, with a bag full of horse feed. Maybe its owner just temporarily left for some reason. Maybe he's been gone for a long time, and won't return, as Crecyda noticed the bag was damp, and it hadn't rained in the past few days. Ten minutes later, she cautiously climbed onto the saddle. She didn't know why she did it. She pulled the reins, it flicked its mane.

"Nicolo," she said, "take me somewhere else."

One night.

"Elin."

"What?"

"I dreamt of Crecyda."

"Who?"

"Crecyda."

Goloka sat up, staring at Elin.

"You forgot who she was?"

"Not exactly forgotten." Elin tossed a stick into the fire. "I haven't met her, so she didn't leave much of an impression. What did you dream about her?"

"She was standing by the sea. Holding a horse."

At this, Goloka rested her chin on the back of her hand, watching the fire that hadn't fully ignited yet. Elin threw another piece of wood into it, sparking some embers. She instinctively leaned back.

"Goloka," Elin said. "We still don't know if this time we're really going to find her."

"I didn't say otherwise."

"And what Tusha said, about a horse and all... we haven't really figured out what that means."

"I know."

"So, you can't keep thinking like this..."

"I'm not keep thinking. I just happened to dream about her, can I be blamed?"

"Never mind, forget I said anything." After a moment, Elin continued. "What does Crecyda look like?"

"Very beautiful. But in the dream, it was a bit different."

"What's different?"

"You wouldn't understand even if I told you."

"That's true. I haven't met her."

It's the hair. Her hair has grown back. But it's been six months; it should have grown quite a bit.

"You know, Goloka, what you're thinking makes sense," Elin said. "What Tusha wants me to see probably has something to do with his research. That is to say, it's probably related to Renner because they both escaped together. So, if everything goes extremely, extremely smoothly..."

"We'll see her," Goloka interrupted Elin. "See both of them."

"Okay. Let's hope so."

"Otherwise, it's too unfair to her."

After half a minute of silence, she continued.

"Nothing in this world is fair."

"You didn't just realize that today."

"But we'll see her."

"It's them, it's only fair for them."

"Alright."

She leaned against him. He put his arm around her shoulder.

"Elin."

"What?"

"What does fairness really mean?"

"Since when did you become interested in something so elusive?"

"Can't I occasionally wonder about it?"

"That's just you overthinking."

"Why is it so difficult to talk to you about anything?"

"Here we go again. I'm not falling for this, you figure it out on your own."

She frowned at the fire.

"Maybe I've been away from Booty Bay for too long. I wouldn't have thought about these things in the past."

"You want to go back and check?"

"No. Maybe being in peaceful days for too long, it tends to..."

"Peaceful? Do you think the definition of peaceful includes using a dagger..."

"Hey."

"I didn't say anything. Alright, sorry."

"I know what you're thinking, Goloka," Elin said after a while. "Crecyda had it tough. Though I've never met her in person, I've at least read the files, so maybe I know more about her than you do. Same goes for Renner; we had a decent relationship back during the West Plague. After all that's happened, they both deserve to stay together and have no more troubles. But what can I say, hopes are just hopes; plenty of people hope Gailin would choke on his food at dinner, but at this moment, he's probably comfortably lying in bed, having the queen pour him wine and feed him chicken legs..."

"It's your fault."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean the Seventh. They were living just fine, but you had to cause trouble for them. And for many others."

Goloka moved away from Elin's side, looking at him.

"What, no more words?"

"You see, just because there's an accident on the road, doesn't mean you blame the person who made the carriage... Of course, I know it's an excuse. You're right. The Seventh often interferes with others' lives, whether they agree or not. Of course, it's not just the Seventh doing these things. You should be very aware of that."

"So how should I think? Are they just unlucky?"

"I don't see any other way."

"That's not an answer."

"That is the answer. And you'd better not think further about what luck really is."

"I don't want to. I'm going to sleep."

"You just woke up."

Goloka lay down, turned away, facing another direction. She could see the mountains in the distance.

"I guess I'm lucky," she said, "to have lived this long."

"If you really want to sleep, hurry up and fall asleep for me."