Tristan and Felicity left the Fey Realm with both horses. He mounted up on Onyx and pushed the steed hard until the horse began to tire and nudged him. Swapping over to Midnight, they kept the pace and were able to cover quite a bit of distance before night fell. They had to stop for the horse's sake, and heading back to the Fey Realm, they rested up.

The same process repeated over the next few days – and the whole time they were traveling, Tristan was inside of his inner world whilst dual-direction spinning his essence crucible. Felicity was doing the same, and so their time of travel, despite being boring and rote, was productive as they both gained more essence capacity.

By the fourteenth of Harvest Season, they reached Rigger's Cove. They had intentionally cut the journey slightly short, so that Tristan could leave Onyx and Midnight in the Fey Realm. Tristan made for the docks, having already used his message-spell-storing ear cuff to notify the captain and admiral of his arrival.

The Vantir captain had set up a barricade along the docks with extra boxes, crates, barrels, and had put all of the boats out into the harbor to prevent them from being used. He met Tristan, and the Fey Realm ruler had Felicity transfer a large number of crafted items with varying values to their ship's cargo hold.

"We'll have another day or two at the most for repairs. Then, we'll be off. It looks like you are going to Klaktol's southern coast?" Captain Bitters asked.

Tristan nodded, "Yes. You are going to head to Yustat so you can hire an essence-weaver and be able to actually use that bangle to communicate." He headed up the docks, giving slight nods of acknowledgement to the crew members, but also looking for any of them who were not people he recognized. Thankfully, no hidden assassins were in their midst.

The rowboat that took him to the Tideskipper's Crest traveled rapidly, and as he clambered up on the deck he was greeted by Obadai who had a stern look on his face. "Logos prevented me from keeping an eye on you," he said. "How is that possible?"

Tristan chuckled, "I wrote him a letter." He pulled the paper out from his hip pouch and handed it to the Archon. "An exchange."

Obadai frowned, "I did not know one could communicate with him. There were warnings against delving too much into the Thought Realm." He looked back to Tristan, "It was a foolish thing to do."

"He didn't know any better," Felicity replied – no longer invisible as the crew had become used to her appearance.

Admiral Yokain came over, "Lord Tristan – we are ready to depart. Southern Klaktol, I believe is where you wished to travel next?"

Tristan nodded, "Then we'll cross back across to Schlarz, and then back to Yustat. Keep any pursuers guessing."

The Admiral tapped his foot impatiently, "And the contract?"

Felicity pulled it out of the storage dimension and handed it to the Admiral from atop Tristan's head, "Signed, and delivered!"

The Admiral's face split into the largest grin Tristan had ever seen, and he let out a whoop of delight. "Finally! I've been vying for this contract for my whole merchant career!" He raised it up, "You hear that, lads? We're going to be rich!" He glanced at Tristan from the corner of his eye as the crew took up cheers around him, "Well, more rich."

Tristan smiled and glanced to his right as Shandra walked over. She looked to have became acquainted to the sea, as her gait was steady and her cheeks were full of hue instead of being pale and wan. "You're back," she said with a smug expression. "Happy to see you survived."

"Where to, Admiral?" Tristan asked as he glanced to Yokain.

"We'll make for Plinth. It's twelve day's travel to get there. We should arrive on the twenty-sixth of Harvest Season." He rubbed his chin, "We should be able to finish your whole route before Winds Season – and by that point we want to be on the other side of Klaktol, or risk the storms."

"Then let us set sail."

The days fell into a pattern. Mornings were spent learning about the ship. To Tristan's mind, it was sensible for him to at least understand the basics of how the ship worked, should the worst happen and he need to sail elsewhere. Admiral Yokain was a strict teacher, and Tristan was clambering up and down the rigging almost constantly. The experience left him quite sore, as he was using muscles he never knew existed in the exertion.

In the afternoon, he practiced Essence-Weaving. By the end of their journey to Klaktol, he had mastered First Order fire elementalism, in addition to his existing spells of First Order he had mastered. Then, the focus shifted to Second Order spells. He had already been studying and practicing his ice elementalism spells, but the pronunciation of Dragon's Tongue in a rapid flurry was a point of stress and criticism from Obadai.

"You need to get better at speaking quickly if you want to be a truly prodigious essence-weaver," the Archon admonished. "We'll practice by just talking in Dragon's Tongue and nothing else. Word drills. Spelling practice. We will get you to the point that you can speak a spell phrase in under a second."

The rest of the day and evenings were spent in his inner world; spinning his essence crucible in both directions whilst he replayed fights over and over in his phantasmal space. That is where he gained the most insight into his actions, as he could revisit prior events and fight against defeated foes.

Stolen story; please report.

Thinking all the way back to the start of his journey with Felicity, he conjured forth the five Black Company mercenaries who had assaulted him. There was not really anything to improve upon there, he thought as he stood to the side, watching as a snowy construct version of himself fought the five assailants. But my form was slightly off, he observed as he critiqued his posture.

Waving his hand, he reset the encounter and the snowy version of him faded as he took its place. Manifesting an inner-world version of his blade, and pouring his essence into his armor, he re-initiated the encounter. His parries were perfect, his ripostes were excellent, and he could already see a marked improvement in his current state compared to the mercenaries as he dispatched them all with ease.

Well, I have obviously improved from my fighting with The Matriarch. And she still holds back in our practice bouts. When I'm back on solid land for the nights, I need to train overnight in the Fey Realm. Get to the point where I can rival her.

Next, he manifested the assassin in the divination tower. He once more watched as his snowy duplicate fought with the assassin, and he saw how close he was to death if not for Felicity's intervention. What I should have done, he thought, is push essence into my armor to activate it. A knife in a close quarter space is dangerous, but against full plate? I doubt it would do much unless they got a very lucky strike in.

Once more he replaced his duplicate, reset the encounter, and put himself into the same situation. His armor was not active, his sword was sheathed, and the assassin rushed toward him. As quickly as he could, Tristan spun his crucible, the walls of his inner world spinning as he did so, and the armor became its draconic-looking plate. He brought his forearms up and blocked the knife blow, turning his hand out, gripping the wrist of the assassin to keep the blade at bay, and then moved forward.

His hand gripped the assassin-copy's throat, and he felt rage boil up in him. It might have been a snow-based duplicate for practice purposes, but that assassin's group killed his mother. Tristan moved his other hand up to the assassin's neck and crushed his windpipe before yanking the head down to meet his knee.

The assassin duplicate faded to nothing, and Tristan was sucking in deep breaths as he saw the crackling silver energy surrounding him – his essence venting unintentionally. I can't get angry during a fight, he thought as he stopped spinning his crucible. Not like that. I left myself open to his other hand – and he might have had another dagger. He looked down at his hand and flexed it, I know that I'm strong, but strong enough to crush a man's throat? I don't know about that. I should stick to my weapons and not my fists unless it is a dire moment.

He noticed a bulge on the inner world exterior, and went over to smooth it out before he turned back to the snowy field of silvery frost. Now…what did I fight next? Ah, yes. The three assassins. He manifested those assailants, and watched with a grim fascination at his encounter. I dealt with the first one easily enough, but the second and third at the same time without my armor was difficult.

After watching his near-death, he reset the encounter and took the place of his duplicate. Dismissing his armor and just sticking to his sword, he re-started the fight, and the first assassin approached. Slapping his palm to his chest, he shouted, "The very plates that protect you shall protect me as well!" His clothing hardened along with his skin into rigid, silvery scales. The assassin fell to his rapid stab into the collarbone, and instead of fighting the remaining attackers in the room, he went into the hallway and engaged the first one.

I need to fight against multiple foes in small spaces like this, he thought. Funnel them so that I can take them one on one. He dismissed the attackers as the painful memory of his grandfather's injury lanced through his chest, and he felt a deep pain of remorse and sorrow. I was strong enough, he thought with a grimace as tears rolled down his cheeks. I should have done more…

The coast came into sight on the 26th of Harvest Season. The sun was shining overhead, and the wind had begun to change from its heat towards a cooler, brisk temperature. The coastline was comprised of sparse, sandy beaches and lots of rocky outcroppings. The area of the coast they were headed to, the port town of Plinth, was an independent city-state.

"In fact," Obadai said as they leaned against the railing, "Unlike other continents, there is no singular country. Maladonia, Schlarz, Yustat, Dorcel – they are all single-ruler continents. Gvand has three…Klaktol has hundreds of city-states. They protect outlying regions they lay claim to." He sighed, "It's a place with dozens of cultures, a multitude of religions, and varying governmental structures."

Admiral Yokain walked up to Tristan and Obadai, "We will be able to dock by midday at the latest. How long are we staying?"

"What's the norm?" Tristan asked.

"For a trade venture, we want to be off as soon as possible. But Plinth is renowned for its brothels, smokeable industry, and their unique religion." He pointed to the highest mountain, and thanks to Tristan's heritage, he could see a temple far at the top, overlooking the city. "That's the Overlook. Pilgrims will often go up there to see glimpses of their future."

"Any actual proof that it works?" Felicity asked.

Yokain shrugged, "I've never been particularly religious. Some of the crew is; Froyr and Wesker are often deities prayed to. It would be prudent to stay here for a few days. Give the crew some shore leave since they didn't get it at Rigger's Cove."

Tristan nodded, "Very well. But in shifts. We keep the ship moored out in the harbor, and then they go to the town on a rotation. I do not want to risk an assassin sneaking in along the docks." They began to come into sight of the harbor. A rocky cove with two, large, circular protrusions that had a channel carved down the middle to let one ship in or out at a time. What was probably an enormous tidal pool had been turned into a very safe and secluded cove.

All along those spurs of rock, fishermen cast lines. The mountains were rocky, but carved and Tristan saw that the buildings were almost all carved into the stone faces. Some free-standing structures made of wood were over near the docks, but they looked to be more akin to canopies for a market square.

"Up on the cliffs," Yokain said, "You would be surrounded by a desert. This is an oasis, as in that mountain over there, a spring supplies fresh water. Their main diet is fish and seaweed, but trade is a lifeblood in this city."

Obadai rubbed his slight beard, "I wouldn't mind visiting this temple. See if there is any truth to the matter." He chuckled, "I've never put much stock in the gods, but if I can indeed be shown my future, I would love to talk to Froyr to learn how I will die."

Tristan shook his head, "I'll pass, thank you." He looked to Yokain, "I am going to spend my time in the Fey Realm in the coming week. I'll go ashore, find somewhere secluded, and do what I plan. I'll check in each morning with the bangles."

Yokain nodded, "If you'll excuse me, this narrow channel is a tricky one. A deft hand is needed at the helm."

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