A journey always starts with a farewell.
Moldir: Here, put this on, Pera. It will allow me to track you should anything happen.
She fastens a small button to her sister's collar.
This button connects the two of them tightly. With this, they will always be able to find each other, no matter where they are.
They kiss on both cheeks.
Moldir: You'll remember to bring Father a souvenir this time, yes?
Moldir: And promise me you'll be careful. I do not wish for our Pera to "buy the farm" just yet.
Lopera: Don't worry about me, Molly. Worry about them.
Lopera: I'll kill them all, if I have to. Every last one.
She makes sure to emphasize the totality of her determination.
Lilya: Alright, alright, enough blabbering. Do you two always share these little heart-to-hearts whenever you leave? I got nothing to say 'cept "bye."
Lilya: Or is the tortoise suddenly not so worried about its speed?
The ship signals its imminent departure.
Vertin: Sotheby, do we have everything?
Sotheby: Naturally! Ms. Sotheby is always ready to travel!
Moldir: The ship is boarding now. After it departs, I will spend some time gathering intel on Mr. Duncan.
Vertin: Thank you.
Lopera: We should be able to find him in the flesh once we get to town. Duncan and I go way back, hahaha!
Lopera: And I'll introduce you to another friend. She lives in a bottle.
Vertin: I'd be delighted to meet your friends.
Vertin: We should be going now.
Vertin: Lilya, I've told Admiral Igor that he can rely on you for further assistance as necessary. Is that alright with you?
Lilya: Yeah, I'll do whatever needs doing.
Lilya: Have a good trip!
Having seen off their guests, Lieutenant Moldir returns to the admiral's office to report an incident from the previous night.
Moldir: Admiral, a prisoner has gone missing from the tower.
She lowers her head as she awkwardly delivers her report.
Moldir: We'll make sure it's kept under wraps.
Moldir: The seal was broken, and we're still investigating who might have been involved.
Moldir: I did encounter the Timekeeper, Ms. Sotheby, and Lopera near the Tower yesterday. Still, I see no reason to suspect them.
They were the only people she saw near the tower yesterday.
Admiral Igor: ...
Admiral Igor: The Timekeeper doesn't have any incentive, and Lopera—No, she wouldn't be involved.
Until last night, the tower held a single unlucky prisoner—a lamb to the slaughter, a stalk of wheat in autumn. But now she has gotten away.
Admiral Igor: Find the prisoner, but don't attempt recapture. Let's see who she's been in touch with.
Moldir: Understood.
Admiral Igor: Lieutenant, this was a failure that must not be repeated.
He grits his teeth as he stares at the map before him. Zeno shouldn't be like this.
The ship departs, and before long, a dozen rowboats have surrounded it.
Sotheby: Oh, look at those strange cowboys! What are they doing with those hooks? Are they trying to hitch a ride?
Lopera: Yes, they will use those hooks to grab onto the side of the ship and moor their boats to ours.
Just as she said, the boats throw their hooks, latch onto the ship, and a number of people clamber aboard.
They're traders hawking homemade trinkets. Lopera politely declines them all.
Lopera: Take this, Timekeeper.
Vertin: What's this?
Lopera: Just a map, in case we get separated.
The map is marked with at least three "safe routes."
Lopera: This will show you the way from the harbor to the Veterans' Residence. Though, it can't show you the safest way. For that, you'll need me.
Lopera: But what am I saying? São Paulo is perfectly safe! That's what the politicians say anyways, never mind the talk of gangs, cartels, and greedy multinational corporations—pure slander.
Vertin: Thank you for the warning, and the map. Let's hope I won't find any occasion to use it.
Lopera: I hope so, too. Well, we have a long cruise ahead. I'll leave you to your business. See you.
She waves goodbye, making her way through the energetic traders and to the other side of the deck.
The traders scamper around like little mice. Having made their sales, they're now scrambling to get a plate of food from the chef.
Vertin: So, the kitchen even prepares food for them.
Chef: No line-cutting! You, boy, back to your place!
Chef: Queue up, or there will be no dinner for you tonight!
The chef taps his metal spoon, sending the boy back to his place in the queue.
The boy sneakily grabs a few flatbreads, tucks them under his shirt, and scurries away.
Sotheby: Ah!
He bumps into Sotheby, crashing to the floor along with his "stolen goods."
Young Vendor: Ei, out of my way!
He stuffs the bread under his shirt again before running off. As he passes, Sotheby notices a glint of an arcane skill in his eyes.
He runs like a child enchanted by the Rattenfanger as he bolts toward a corner of the cabin.
Sotheby: Ms. Vertin? Did you notice that boy? Wasn't he awfully strange?
Vertin: You're right. Come on, let's go see what he's up to.
A woman hides in the shadows.
Her face is familiar, but she wears an entirely new outfit.
Is it really her? The lady at Tuesday's Motel?
Vertin: It's you!
The bread-stealing child is gone.
Instead, Ms. Kimberly is curled up in the corner, stuffing bread into her mouth with both hands.
She stops and looks up, surprise in her eyes.
Ms. Kimberly: Mm?! Oh, Vertin?
Ms. Kimberly: How—What are you doing here?
Vertin: I was about to ask you the very same question.
The farewell at Tuesday's Motel last month wasn't exactly pleasant.
But she looks starved now.
Sotheby: Is this a new friend, Vertin? A pleasure to meet you!
Sotheby approaches, but Kimberly looks terrified. She freezes, a sticky lump of dough dropping from the corner of her mouth.
Vertin: Please, take this.
She offers her a chocolate bar. After a moment's hesitation, Kimberly swallows, grabs the bar, and shoves it into her mouth.
Ms. Kimberly: Th-Thank you ...
She licks her fingers clean like a ravenous child.
Vertin: Have you found what you lost since we last met?
Ms. Kimberly: ...
Her face falls. It appears not.
Vertin: Perhaps I could help.
Ms. Kimberly: Thank you, but I would prefer to do this on my own.
Ms. Kimberly: I was the one who lost it, and I will be the one to get it back.
She's unwilling to cooperate, but there's no hostility.
A strange and contradictory figure, an arcanist who seems to be on the verge of reformation.
Vertin: This ship is headed to São Paulo. Is that where you're heading as well? Would you like to accompany us?
Ms. Kimberly: São Paulo? I don't ...
It's the ship's only destination. Where else could she go?
Ms. Kimberly: There isn't anything for me there. Only a pit of misery and pain. There's no more dancing, no feasts or banquets. No—
Her eyes dart away.
"There's nothing there."
Ms. Kimberly: No, I would rather we simply part ways here, Ms. Vertin! Farewell, and pleasant journeys—I'm indebted to you for your kindness.
Ms. Kimberly: Ah, and your friend here ... Aren't you just a sweetheart? Oh, I could just gobble you up for tea!
She reaches out and pinches Sotheby's cheek.
Sotheby: Ah! Madam, please. You ... This simply isn't proper or ladylike.
Kimberly smiles, as if she has shed the baggage of their previous encounter, and disappears into the crowd.
There's an old legend told in the desert peninsula: encountering a demon is always a sign of bad things to come.
