Meanwhile, Joseph went back to the stairs.

Alchfrid was still there, on the Upper Deck. He reminded Joe of old men from his world, who couldn’t quite get used to the changing times - reading newspapers when smartphones and laptops existed, sitting outside on a bench (chair in this case) under the sunlight (no such thing in the cave a kilometre deep underground, sir!).

And with recent revelations, the old man comparison was more than appropriate. Still rude, though.

Alchfrid was a literal tree as well. Joe kept himself from making a dumb joke about the connection between the two, and approached the Captain.

The khwoaer noticed him first.

“Joseph.” His deep voice was as calming as ever. “Did you need anything from this rooted tree? Do be warned, I am not moving from this chair. My old branches can’t take too much pressure these days…”

Did he read his mind, or what?

“Captain, how does one deal with Mages?”

“Mages? Oh, that’s… that’s… wait.”

Alchfrid put the newspaper away.

“Which Mages? Where did you find them?”

Joe focused and told the tree-man the story about his run-in with Evalyn, trying to fit as many details as he could remember. The Captain didn’t move an inch, only showing the reaction after Joseph finished.

“Are you sure she is a Mage?”

Joe replied with a silent ‘No’.

“But you are adamant that you were affected?”

“Yes.”

Alchfrid nodded. His six eyes squinted.

“Good.” His tone had hints of satisfaction in it. “Good that you are confident with your accusation. And I believe you. When the Inner State gets corrupted, it means that the intervention is unnaturally strong. Do you remember anything else she said?”

“Only what I have already told.”

The Captain stood up and rolled the newspaper up.

“Have you seen Xander or Ralf?”

“Xander might be… busy. Ralf is somewhere in the settlement, if he didn’t come back yet.”

Alchrid approached the gunwale and looked into the endless darkness beneath the ship.

“Was Hans there?” Joe heard him ask.

“No. Iliana said to Xander that Hans wasn’t on the island at the moment.”

“Iliana?” Alchfrid’s voice sounded confused. “Iliana… oh, the ‘Rolling Suns’ crew?”

Joe shrugged. He had no idea. Rayk was familiar with Iliana, judging by his parting words back in the tavern.

And they had a similar fur colour.

“Maybe?… I don’t really know, Captain.”

“That’s fine.” Alchfrid’s voice was reassuring. “I only hope that my memory is still in working condition. Unfortunately, we might have missed our mark. Hans’ ship left an hour ago, from this very port.”

Joe couldn’t say a word in response.

“What?…” he barely managed to choke it out.

Alchfrid nodded.

“He might have been on the island. I caught the departure at the very end when it was already too late. His ship flew away right in front of my very eyes.”

There goes one thread…

The bitter thought poisoned Joe’s mood. Not that it was all sunshine after the precarious meeting with the woman of ‘Firelight’.

But when you fail to reach your task, you should go back to basics. That was the lesson Joe knew very well.

What else did they have?

“What does Hans look like?”

“Brown hair, rough short beard, round face and blue eyes. A healed scar near the temple.”

Joe didn’t know about the eyes, but he remembered the face right away.

“Merchant in the ‘Rattlebones’!”

“You saw him?”

Joe nodded. His shaking hands squeezed into fists.

“He was there! In the corner of the tavern! Surrounded by armed people in black!”

The Captain walked up to him. All six eyes burrowed into Joe.

“And nobody else recognized him?”

Now that Alchfrid pointed it out…

“...Actually, no. Nobody else paid any attention to him.”

“Weird, isn’t it?”

Joe nodded. The Captain sat back on his chair and put his hand-branches together.

“A little piece of knowledge for you, Joe. The ‘Firelight Mercenary Company’ has a certain reputation, no thanks to its owner and founder, Evalyn Hansen. That, and her utter refusal to accept any contract that has anything to do with the direct hostility against a group or a person.”

“What exactly do you mean?”

“’Firelight’ accepts contracts only if they deal with very specific responsibilities. Guarding something or someone, escorting, transporting - those kinds of things. Makes them stand out among the crowd, see? Mercenaries are not known for their pristine morality. Not in the Threshold.”

Sounds more like a security service, rather than a mercenary group.

Joe needed to dig further.

“Anything on Evalyn herself?”

Alchfrid tapped on his branch with the rolled-up newspaper.

“It is a well-known tale that she has some Magical abilities… but I thought about them as rumours, and never bothered beyond that. If your story is true…”

Joseph frowned. The Captain coughed.

“...Then, we have a solid confirmation. Rumours never mentioned anything about the Mind bending, however. So, what are you going to do with all that knowledge?”

The gears in Joe’s brain staggered.

“...Come again?”

Alchfrid opened the newspaper and continued talking, paying more attention to the yellow articles than to the person in front of him.

“I appreciate you telling me all of this. But Evalyn didn’t attack you directly, nor is she connected to our current goals, is she? If she did, we would get some ground for retributive justice, but as it stands, we can only avoid her and keep our alert up. Ghastly Wail does not like vigilantes or petty disputes.”

Pirates, who don’t like petty disputes and taking justice into their own hands?! What is this, a civilized country?!

“How ironic…”

Alchfrid lowered the newspaper a bit, letting one pair of his yellow eyes inspect Joe.

“It is what it is, Joseph. Frontier justice is justice still. I am not going to prevent you from anything you are planning to do, but remember - the reputation of the Morning Star is your responsibility too now. Lure them out into the open. Let them set themselves up.”

Did the Captain really think that he was that vengeful?

He was. Yes, he was.

But without a proper plan, he would have to let the grudge go. It would do him better to avoid Evalyn and her fanclub for the time being, at least until they are on Ghastly Wail.

Lest he wants the frontier justice to come knocking on his door.

Alchfrid got up from the chair. The khwoaer thought for a bit and pushed the newspaper into Joseph’s hands.

“Here, hold it for a moment.”

The bewildered man stared at the newspaper. Alchfrid put a hand on his shoulder.

“No rash actions, remember? Wait for Xander and Ralf, explain your findings to them. They will listen. Form a plan first, catch them off guard. Then go in, guns blazing. Remember the third lesson?”

“...Use everything you have. Think outside the box. Don’t focus on a sword.”

The Captain nodded with a glint of pride in his stance.

“Take a break, sailor. Read this paper, hit a bed! It’s the Mad Festival, don’t stuff your head with unnecessary worries!”

Joe pointed at the newspaper.

“Where did you get this, even?”

“The paper?” the Captain looked at the item in question like it was the first time he had ever seen it. “Pat brought it back with him. It’s three months old, but it will do. Getting up-to-date news in Lower Reaches is the pain in my roots.”

Alchfrid waved to Joe, and entered the door to the inner sections of the ship.

Joseph shrugged and took the Captain’s place on the chair.

It was expectedly uncomfortable. His backside never felt so sore even after his recent running exercise.

His eyes ran up and down, looking for anything that could catch his attention.

‘The New Wave Of Recruitment Led To A New Controversy! House Of Wolkur And House Of Winterhold Abstained!’

Wolkur… I’ve heard that name before. Lady Edna?

‘Owen Magnus’s speech: We Do Not Support This New Military Initiative!’

Mages refuse to get conscripted… good, good.

‘The Knight Tournament Turns Into Bloodbath!’

Joe shook his head and turned the page.

‘The Burial Site Of Mad King Is Finally Discovered?! Ariya Magnus Leads The Expedition!’

Ariya Magnus… Owen Magnus? Related?

‘Sumeilien Moves North! The Expedition Runs Into An Unexpected Problem!’

The newspaper contained black-and-white photos together with relevant articles. For some reason, the Mad King one had the photo with the quality of a paint stain on the empty sheet. Joe tried to figure out how the faces of the expedition members looked like before his eyes would burst from the sheer pressure.

He failed miserably.

On the other hand, the article with the ‘Unexpected Problem’ had a gorgeous image of a long mountain belt, stretching beyond the horizon. This photo took half of the page all by itself.

The priorities of newspaper editors were way beyond Joe’s Understanding.

The next article grabbed his attention at the first glance. The familiar woman showed up in the photo.

Amelia Wolfhound stood near her ship. Despite the black-and-white palette, the quality of this image was on par with the mountain belt one. He recognized her without any issues. He had never seen the man in a uniform near Amelia, however. Whoever he was, he wore a thin mustache and lavish short hair, styled similarly to a buzz cut. Joe moved his gaze to the title of the article.

‘Amelia Woulfhound And Andrea Burne Are Dispatched To Lower Reaches Amidst Growing Tensions!’

“Dispatched for a pirate hunt, certainly,” Joe muttered.

Curiously, the article itself didn’t mention it. Joseph inspected the page, expecting to see the word ‘pirates’, or ‘thieving parties’, or any plausible equivalent. There was nothing. Not before, not within the article.

He folded the newspaper and waved it in front of his face. The summer heat could rival the clingiest of bugs. Even the nighttime couldn’t save him from it.

The figure of Evalyn appeared in his mind. Joseph scowled.

Oh, how much he would give away just to get an opportunity to send a bullet right between her eyes…

To maul her face, her smile, and her body…

A low growl escaped from his throat. If only he would catch her without her mercenaries, one-on-one…

Then what will you do, brother? Fall for her again?

Joe gritted his teeth to the point of a headache.

You are not ready, Darling.

He could resist her. He did it once.

What if it was only a small demonstration, my guy? Games are over, you know it yourself.

Didn’t matter. Doesn’t matter!

Stop acting like a spoiled kid, who got his pride hurt! You have no chance against a Mage, with, or without the armed support on her side!

Enough!

Joseph jumped up from the chair and kicked it away. The nails cut into his palm through the folded newspaper, tearing the paper apart.

“Fuck you, Evalyn!!!”

The shout, filled with a burning passion, streamed around the port and echoed back to Joe. He took a few deep breaths.

The clarity crawled back. And with it - the waterfall of shame.

…Only now he realized, that indeed, he was acting like a prideful, impatient idiot.

He staggered back. The innocent chair that got in his way earlier laid on its side, reproachfully waiting for him to pick it up.

Which he did.

“Sorry, chair. I am now the official idiot of the ‘Morning Star’.”

The chair said nothing.

The energy boost withered away from his body. Joe fell down on the seat.

If the very first serious encounter shattered his mental balance into tiny pieces…

…How was he going to survive the Threshold?