The small room above the tavern that served as their temporary lodging was cramped but clean, with two narrow beds separated by barely enough space for a person to walk between them. Morning light filtered through the single window. Fin sat cross-legged on his bed, methodically cleaning and checking his throwing knives, each blade receiving careful attention as he inspected the runic inscriptions for any signs of wear or damage.

Soga lounged on his own bed with characteristic casual grace, his face turned toward the window as he watched the bustling street below. The sounds of Frerun's morning commerce drifted up from the tavern's common room, merchants haggling over prices, the clatter of dishes, and the general din of people starting their day with purpose and energy.

"Fin," Soga said suddenly, his voice carrying an unusually serious tone that cut through the comfortable silence they had been sharing. "Do you have a passive ability that helps you control your emotions?"

Fin's hand stilled on the knife he was examining, the question catching him completely off guard. He looked up to find Soga's attention had shifted from the window to him, Fin could sense an intensity in the observation that made him uncomfortable.

"Why do you want to know?" Fin replied carefully, setting the knife aside but not answering the question directly.

"Because," Soga said, sitting up straighter on his bed and leaning forward slightly, "in the weeks since you left the Academy, you haven't shown a single moment of genuine emotional distress. Not when you had your race changed, not when you had to leave behind everything you knew, not even when we were walking away from your family without knowing when you'd see them again." He paused, letting the words settle. "That's not normal human behavior, no matter how composed someone might be naturally."

Fin felt his jaw tighten, a flash of irritation breaking through his carefully maintained calm before Convergent Equilibrium smoothed it away like a stone dropped into still water. "Yes," he admitted reluctantly. "I have a passive that helps maintain emotional balance. It keeps me focused and prevents... overwhelming feelings from interfering with rational decision-making."

"I thought so." Soga nodded as if confirming a long-held suspicion. "You need to turn it off."

The suggestion hit Fin like a physical blow. "What? No. Absolutely not."

"You need to grieve, Fin. You need to process what's happened to you instead of just burying it under magical emotional suppression." Soga's voice carried gentle but firm conviction. "You haven't had time to properly feel the loss of your old life, and that's not healthy. Those emotions don't disappear just because you're not experiencing them, they build up like pressure in a sealed vessel."

"I said no." Fin's voice carried a sharp edge that would have been completely suppressed if not for the stress fractures already appearing in his emotional control. "I don't want to feel those things. I need to stay focused, stay rational. That's how I survive this."

"That's not living, that's just existing," Soga replied with quiet intensity. "And if you won't do this willingly, then I won't allow you to go on any missions with me until you do."

Fin stared at him in disbelief. "You can't be serious."

"I'm completely serious. I won't watch you slowly destroy yourself from the inside out by refusing to process your trauma."

"Fine," Fin snapped, anger beginning to leak through despite his passive's influence. "I'll just take solo missions then. I don't need you."

Soga's smirk managed to convey patient amusement. "Sure, you can do that. But Silver-rank solo missions aren't exactly thrilling. You'll be looking for lost pets, helping people clean graveyards, maybe escorting merchants on short, safe routes to nearby villages. Is that really how you want to spend your exile?"

The words hung in the air between them like a challenge. Fin found himself caught between his desperate need to maintain control and the growing realization that Soga was probably right about both the missions and the emotional suppression. The thought of spending months or years on trivial errands while avoiding his own feelings suddenly seemed like its own form of prison.

"I..." Fin began, then stopped. His hands were trembling slightly, and he could feel hairline cracks forming in the mental barriers that held his suppressed emotions at bay. "I don't want to feel it. I don't want to hurt like that."

"I know," Soga said gently. "But you're hurting anyway, just in a different way. And it's going to get worse if you don't deal with it properly."

Fin closed his eyes, feeling the weight of accumulated stress and suppressed grief pressing against his consciousness like water against a dam. With deliberate, terrified intention, he reached into himself and deactivated Convergent Equilibrium.

The effect was immediate and devastating.

Weeks of carefully suppressed emotion hit him like a physical force. The grief of leaving family and friends behind, the terror of being hunted, the rage at being forced into exile, the loneliness, the confusion, the sense of complete helplessness, it all crashed over him in a crushing wave that drove him to his knees.

"IT'S NOT FAIR!" The words erupted from him in a raw scream that seemed to come from the depths of his soul. Tears were already streaming down his face, and his whole body shook with the force of emotions he had been holding back. "It's not fair that I have to be here! It's not fair that I'm being forced away from my family, from my friends, from my entire life because some psychopaths want to use me!"

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Soga said nothing, just listened with patient attention as Fin's carefully constructed composure shattered completely.

"The king is a coward!" Fin shouted, his voice cracking with the strain. "He's supposed to protect his people, but the moment things get complicated, he just ships the problem away! And Mara... Mara was supposed to protect her students! The Headmaster was supposed to keep us safe! But what do they do the instant there's real danger? They just... they just send me away like I'm the problem!"

His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles went white, and his voice dropped to a broken whisper that somehow carried more pain than his screaming had. "I just want to live my life. I just want to make my own choices, to decide my own path. Everyone else gets to do that. Everyone else gets to choose their career, choose where they live, choose who they spend time with. But me? I have to do whatever other people decide because they're scared of what I might become."

The tears came harder now, years of suppressed frustration and fear pouring out in great, shuddering sobs. "I never asked for any of this. I never asked for strange abilities or political complications or to be the center of some ancient prophecy. I just wanted to study, to learn, to maybe help people with what I discovered. But instead I'm here, a thousand miles from everyone I care about, because other people are afraid of my potential power."

He looked up at Soga through tear-blurred eyes, his voice raw and desperate. "What if I never see my brother again? My father or mother? What if something happens to them while I'm gone and I never get to tell them how much they means to me? What if this exile becomes permanent and I spend the rest of my life running from shadows while everyone I love forgets I ever existed?"

Soga remained silent, allowing Fin to pour out the accumulated pain and terror that had been eating at him from the inside. There were no platitudes, no attempts to minimize his suffering, just steady, supportive presence.

"Fuck the King. Fuck Captain Fidor. Fuck all of the nobles who just stood by and watched. And Fuck you for being so calm all the time. Fuck it all."

The emotional storm raged for nearly an hour, leaving Fin drained and hollow but somehow cleaner, like a wound that had finally been properly lanced and cleaned. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands, feeling emotionally raw but strangely lighter.

"I'm going to give you some time alone," Soga said quietly, rising from his bed with gentle movements, placing on his mask. "Take as long as you need."

After Soga left, Fin remained sitting in the small room, processing the aftermath of his emotional breakdown. The anger was still there, along with the sadness and confusion, but it felt different now, manageable, like weather that could be endured rather than a crushing weight that threatened to destroy him.

Gradually, very gradually, he began to feel something that had been absent: a sense of genuine peace. Not the artificial calm imposed by his passive ability, but the natural equilibrium that came from actually dealing with difficult emotions instead of simply suppressing them.

After another hour of quiet reflection, he carefully reactivated Convergent Equilibrium, but this time the ability felt different, like a tool for managing stress rather than a wall for avoiding pain.

Soga returned precisely when the sun reached its zenith, carrying a small scroll sealed with the Mercenary Guild's official wax. "I accepted an escort mission while you were processing," he announced, settling back onto his bed. "We're to meet the ship's captain this afternoon."

"What kind of escort mission?" Fin asked, surprised by how normal his voice sounded.

"Maritime protection. A merchant vessel heading to the outer islands needs guards against pirates. Three-day journey each way, good pay, and it should give us both a chance to see how we work together in actual combat situations."

They made their way to Frerun's harbor district as the afternoon sun began its descent toward the western horizon. The cobblestone streets bustled with typical port activity, dock workers hauling cargo, merchants negotiating deals, sailors preparing for departures. The air carried the sharp scent of salt water and the more complex aromas of tar, rope, and fish.

Captain Brogard Tatum was not what Fin had expected. Rather than the weathered, boisterous stereotype of a ship's captain, he was a soft-spoken man in his late fifties with intelligent gray eyes and the kind of quiet confidence that suggested deep competence rather than loud bravado. He stood beside his vessel, a sturdy three-masted merchant ship called the Seahawk, reviewing cargo manifests with the methodical attention to detail of someone who understood that small oversights could become fatal problems at sea.

"You must be the mercenaries from the Guild," he said, looking up from his paperwork and extending a hand in greeting. His voice was calm and measured, carrying the authority of experience without any need for dramatic emphasis. "I'm Captain Tatum. Thank you for accepting this contract."

"Lasair," Fin replied, shaking the captain's hand and noting the firm grip and calloused palms of someone who still worked alongside his crew. "This is Astar."

"The route we'll be taking passes through waters where pirate activity has increased significantly in recent months," Tatum explained, his tone matter-of-fact rather than alarmed. "The Fractured Tide has been growing bolder, and several merchant vessels have been lost or forced to surrender their cargo. The people of Lothvrok depend on these supply runs, but the risks have become... substantial."

Soga tilted his head slightly. "What makes you willing to take the risk when other captains aren't?"

"Experience, proper preparation, and now, hopefully, proper protection," Tatum replied with a slight smile. "I've been sailing these waters for thirty years. I know where the dangers are most likely to manifest, and I know how to minimize our exposure. What I haven't had until now is reliable combat support if things go badly despite our precautions."

He gestured toward his ship with obvious pride. "The Seahawk is built for both cargo capacity and defensive capability. She's not as fast as a dedicated warship, but she's sturdy, well-armed for a merchant vessel, and crewed by people who know their business."

"When do we depart?" Fin asked, studying the vessel and noting the reinforced sections of deck that would provide good defensive positions.

"With tomorrow's dawn tide. That gives you tonight to familiarize yourselves with the ship's layout and meet the crew you'll be working with." Tatum's expression grew more serious. "I won't lie to you, this isn't a pleasure cruise. If the Fractured Tide decides to test us, the fighting will be real and dangerous. But the people of Lothvrok need these supplies, and I believe we have a good chance of getting them there safely."

As the sun touched the horizon, painting the harbor waters in shades of gold and crimson, Fin and Soga climbed aboard the Seahawk. Standing on the deck of what would be their home for the next week, Fin felt a complex mixture of anticipation and uncertainty about what lay ahead.

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