Nineteen days have gone by since my arrival at the port city of Miriandelle. This is about the longest I've stayed in a single place.

  Before this, my journey had always been one of constant movement, traveling from city to city, never staying in a single place for more than four days in a row. But now, I wasn't traveling anymore. I had reached my destination on the 37th day of the second moon of the year 616. That left me with 43 days until the day of rendezvous. So, waiting was the only thing to be done.

  And so, I did. Living the life of a tourist, I spent nineteen days soaking in the city's offerings.

  My days began with a hearty breakfast at the inn. I'd then venture out to explore all the possibly interesting hotspots of the town, ticking off a list of must-see attractions. The inn staff were quite helpful in that aspect, providing me with directions and recommendations. From the best vantage points to take in the city's panoramic views to the ideal spots to gaze at the azure expanse of the Parting Sea, they had it all covered. They pointed me towards the best local shops and hidden gems that tourists often missed. It was fun but in the span of ten days, I had done it all. I had visited every recommended site, and experienced every notable view. After that, my daily outings became less about discovery and more about passing time. Often, I found myself gravitating back to the fountain at the plaza. I would sit there, waiting. At first, I was waiting for a very peculiar something. But as the days went by, I came to accept things as they were, that something wouldn’t happen until the appointed day. Thus, my waiting at the fountain became just a way to pass the time until my next meal. And I eagerly anticipated each meal. The girl at the Seagull's Nest hadn't lied when she said their cook was born to cook lobsters and shrimps. Every dish was a culinary delight, each meal a small celebration.

  ***

  Slurping the last bit of sauce from the shrimp head that I laid to rest on my plate along with its fellows, I leaned back in my chair, savoring the lingering flavors.

  The lobby was alive with the sound of a bard singing on a small podium, his melodic voice weaving through the air and mingling with the savory smells that permeated the room. The dish I had just finished was a local specialty called "Seagull's Delight," a course featuring coconut-milk shrimp bedded on a lettuce and parsley mix. Ignoring the vegetable remnants on my plate, I turned my attention to the second course.

  A salad of lobster awaited me, the dish a masterpiece in itself. Three lobsters lay elegantly arranged on my plate, their red shells contrasting beautifully with the vibrant greens and purples of the accompanying vegetables. The aroma was intoxicating, a blend of the sea and subtle herbs. I carefully picked up the first bite and brought it to my mouth, savoring the rich, tender meat.

  Sighing contentedly, I couldn't help but muse, "This can't be good for my health," as I took another bite, followed by another, and then another.

  The food was ridiculously good, each mouthful a testament to the culinary skills of the chef. As much as I understood that the lifestyle I was living wasn't the most optimal one. The one saying that was the masochist side of me that had gotten used to the constant travel.

  There was nothing inherently wrong with enjoying such moments of peace, eating to my heart's desire. It was fine to indulge, but at a moderate pace. It was all about balance and equilibrium.

  The food was unbelievably good, each mouthful a testament to the chef's culinary skills. I couldn’t help but genuinely indulge but as I did I never felt like I was able to do it at 100%. Some part of me was screaming that this lifestyle I’m indulging is both not the right one and the optimal one. Most likely it was the masochistic side of me, accustomed to constant travel, that voiced this complaint each time I was having a good time.

  Attempting to fight back against these thoughts that I felt weren’t actually all that unreasonable, I told myself that moments like these made the chaos worthwhile. Sitting in a serene environment, savoring an exquisite meal, provided a rare but cherished sense of tranquility. But here’s the thing, it wasn’t rare anymore, making it harder to cherish as I normally would. Sure, there was nothing inherently wrong with enjoying such moments of peace and eating to my heart's desire. I understood that. But something that I came to understand is that it had to be about balance and equilibrium, the same balance that had carried me from the other side of the continent to this city.

  A strange analogy to describe what was happening to me, but it was like the carrot and the stick. The carrot was the reward I gave myself upon reaching a city after a long journey, and the stick was the time spent on the road, journeying. Sometimes I simply rode my steed, and other times I raided bandit camps, harvesting more memories from those struggles. It was a routine I had grown accustomed to. Well, to be fair, I had vicariously lived through that routine for nearly a year, so I couldn't really blame myself for feeling that something was amiss when I had only the carrot without the struggle of the journey to make me feel like I had earned it.

  ***

  After engulfing another bite, I felt a little thirst, so I reached for the carafe at my table, only to find it empty. I tried the second one, which usually had some natural juice, but it too, like the water carafe, was empty. I looked around, searching for one of the apron-clad servants to help with my predicament. I found two of them, both busy tending to other customers who, I caught, were glancing at me before quickly withdrawing their gazes.

  Compared to the day I first set foot in the Seagull's Nest, there were a lot more people in the establishment, easily four times the amount. This was due to mainly three factors. Firstly, there were simply more tenants now. Secondly, it was late in the evening, dinner time. Being somewhat of a restaurant with a very good cook, many came for the food. While the price of the establishment’s service was above average, it wasn't completely unaffordable. Compared to the hotels I had stayed in throughout my journey, where just the price for a night could equate to several months' worth of work for the average man, this place was quite affordable. Making it the go-to establishment for the locals for very special occasions.

  The last reason for the bustling crowd was the presence of the bard, the one mentioned by the girl upon my arrival. He performed once every two days, usually drawing quite a crowd to the establishment.

  These were the very people I had just caught looking at me. I did nothing to deserve that; I sat in my little corner near the staircase leading to the second floor, eating peacefully. Well, I can't really pretend like I didn't know why they were staring at me.

  Retracting my gaze from the patrons, I met the eyes of the owner from behind his counter. With a nod of his head, he asked what was up. I replied by raising the empty carafe. The owner nodded and approached, taking the two carafes from the closest table, which was unoccupied, and bringing them to mine.

  "Thanks," I said.

  "You're welcome," he answered back with a smile. "How's the food today?"

  "It's exquisite as ever," I replied. "Be sure to pass my praises to the cook."

  The old man chuckled wholeheartedly. "I'll make sure to tell him. He'll be ecstatic to hear it." As he took my two empty carafes, most likely for a refill, he asked with a smile, "Anything else?"

  I gave a little shake of my head. "No, nothing. Thanks."

  "Alright then," the owner answered before heading toward the kitchen, which was in an adjacent room separated by a white curtain. Left there, I once again felt the stares.

  Seriously, why don't you look at the performance of your bard instead of me? To some extent, I felt pity for the poor bard as it seemed I was more the center of attention than him.

  Understanding that there was nothing to be done about it, I returned my attention to my plate, more precisely my third course. It was conch, presented like something the people of the Rising Sun Empire from the world I came from would refer to as sashimi. As I proceeded to take the first bite, I knew that later in the night, dozing in my room, I'd feel like garbage for indulging this much, but hey this is my reward for making it to Miriandelle.

  It was at that moment, as I was enjoying my "sashimi," that I noticed a familiar face entering the establishment. He greeted the servers and then walked up to the only available table in the room, which was the one next to me. It wasn’t someone I personally knew, more like someone that, with my near-perfect memory, I remembered seeing a couple of times around.

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  The man was of large stature, seemingly in his late fifties, with graying hair long enough to be tied into a little ponytail. He bore a short unkept beard making him look rougher than the last time I’d seen him. He was dressed like the average sailor that could be found by the thousands in the port, but clearly, the Verdenkind that he was wasn't the average sailor.

  He was one of the three men in the lobby the day I arrived, sitting alone in the very seat I now occupied. Like the one he paused in front of, it was ignored by the crowd for the same reason, they were all focused on the evening's main attraction, the bard.

  Swallowing another "sashimi", I sensed his eyes on me and glanced his way. Our eyes met and he, at least, had the decency not to avert his gaze when they did but greeted me with a low nod as he reached for a chair to sit. Before he sat, his eyes darted around, most likely searching for the owner.

  For the following two days after my arrival, I often saw the man around for lunch, frequently chatting with the Owner or his girls, which led me to understand that he was a guest of the establishment like I was. However, I hadn’t seen him since, leading me to believe he had left the city, which he quite possibly did.

  At that moment, one of the apron-clad waitresses approached. It was the same one serving him the day I set foot in the establishment. As she did, she asked in a voice that made it clear that she was already very familiar with this customer, "What for you today, Captain?"

  "The usual," he replied, then added, "and what does your kitchen have left?"

  The girl, the eldest of the approned sisters began listing to the man what they had left, which was pretty much everything except lobsters, as their daily quota had run out.

  I couldn’t help but wonder who was to blame for this shortage.

  "I see…I'll have the sliced conch, but only a half portion as I have a big day waiting for me tomorrow. Best to sleep with a light stomach," the man replied.

  The girl nodded and took a step toward the kitchen when the captain called out, "Fiona, where's your dad? Is he not here?"

  "The boss? He was here just a moment ago; maybe he’s in the kitche—Speak of the Devil." Coming out of the kitchen, carafes now full in hand, the owner noticed the man at the table, smiling and waving at him.

  "Jarvis…I didn’t expect a visit anymore at this time," the owner said as he approached.

  "Then you were expecting wrong," the captain replied.

  "When did you arrive?" the owner asked.

  "Late this morning. I wanted to come straight here, but I had to deal with some other matters first. I’ve been and still pretty much am behind schedule," the captain responded.

  "For being behind schedule, you sure are. You said you'd be back three days ago, didn't you?" the owner remarked.

  "Yeah, that was the plan, but I stumbled upon something that messed up my schedule all over the place," the captain explained with a sigh.

  "What happened?" The Owner asked, putting the carafe at his table.

  The captain replied, "Nothing worth mentioning."

  The owner, his voice tinged with apprehension, asked, "How's your mom? You said you planned on taking advantage of this commission to visit her, right?"

  "Yeah. She's fine if that's what's worrying you. What messed up my schedule had nothing to do with her. She's completely alright. Now that I think of it, we spoke of you the other day. She said she wanted to see you again, see Miriandelle and the blue sea, but well, you know... she's old. The roads aren't for someone as old as her anymore, especially as of late. Aye, our caravan got attacked on the road. Can you believe that?"

  "Bandits?! On the road to Sandlow?" The owner repeated, incredulous.

  "Yeah, that's why we were behind schedule. Damn bastards!"

  Having finished my full portion of sliced conch, I listened intently to the conversation I was overhearing clearly from where I was. Given how my spot granted no view of the main attraction, the performing bard, I couldn't really just sit there and do nothing, it would be too conspicuous.

  Sure, I could pretend to listen, but I wasn't all that interested in the performance. It wasn't bad, but having come from an era where music was a very accessible form of entertainment, I couldn't see myself being entertained by a bard with less than 20 songs. The first time, perhaps, but when you hear the same song being sung, the same tune being performed, you get used and soon enough bored of it. As of now, the sound was only great as it was, a background noise. Seeing no reason not to, I turned my attention toward the duo, promptly catching the attention of the captain.

  "Excuse me," I cut, with a small nod. "Arianna, by the way."

  The captain nodded, "Jarvis or Captain or Captain Jarvis. Whatever it is that suits you. Nice to meet you."

  "The pleasure is mine," I replied with a smile. "I apologize in advance, but I overheard your conversation. I couldn't help but get curious. Does this city and its surroundings have a bandit problem?"

  The Captain responded, "It doesn't." His words are not at all matching what he just described.

  The owner added, "It does, but it's much like anywhere in the kingdom."

  I sighed internally.

  Bandits are a problem everywhere, aren’t they? Such vile creatures.

  The Captain continued, "He's right. We have bandits, but it's not really a problem yet, considering what I've heard about how much of a problem bandits are in some other places. I'd say Miriandelle and the surrounding areas are doing pretty well, considering the amount of goods coming in and out of this city."

  It was easy to guess why. Usually, the more money there is, the more people are attracted to that money. It was the case for peons, but it was also particularly the case for Verdenkinds. It would have certainly also been the case for Highbreeds, had they not been stuck as they were with the Church or noble families, which tend to establish themselves in one place and never really leave it.

  The city of Miriandelle, despite not being a ducal city or even a royal city, but instead a moderately sized city that acted as a port for goods and travelers who wanted to make their way across the parting sea, had a high ratio of Highbreed/peons. Usually, one place in any city where one can find a sizable majority of Verdenkinds gathered is either the market or the Handlers' local headquarters. Here in this city, it was at the port. They were, like the man they called the captain, working on ships as sailors.

  "You're saying it's safe," The owner remarked. "and yet you got attacked."

  "Well, to be fair, I was a day away from the city when that happened, so technically it wasn't within the vicinity," the captain explained. "Besides, 'attacked' isn't quite the right word. Sure, they ambushed us, but as soon as they realized most of us were Verdenkind, they quickly came to the surprisingly logical conclusion that their lives were much more valuable than the convoy of dried and salted fish they were trying to rob us of. The bastards ran for their lives."

  "Sounds like the job of total amateurs," I commented.

  "Pretty much..." the captain agreed.

  "I'll say that it looked a lot more like the job of Handlers who strayed from the right path," the owner added.

  The captain nodded. "I thought so too. To tell you the truth, what slowed our convoy down the most wasn't their assault but more the strain of constantly worrying they might attack again. They had horses and, with many of them, there were chances they had a camp nearby with who knows how many more of their people. The more I think of it, the more I'm annoyed at how much of my time was wasted by those little shits. I should've made a move against them, killed at least o—" He muttered to himself, interrupted by the owner coughing and making a subtle motion with his head to watch his words in front of me.

  I smiled and reassured him, "It's alright. I've traveled a little too," I explained. "I've heard stories about how horrible bandits can be."

  "What has been told to you isn't wrong," the captain said. "At times, humans can be as terrible as monsters."

  I nodded, then asked, "Have you tried reporting that to the local authority? Perhaps they might fix the problem."

  Both the captain and the owner winced. "I'll try when I have the time, but I have a feeling it might not help at all," the captain said in defeat.

  The owner backed him up. "Had it been closer, then perhaps..."

  "As it is, we might as well fix the problem ourselves and pray that we’re not stepping on someone's toes," the captain added.

  "Oi," the owner interjected to stop him.

  "Stepping on someone's toes? I don't understand," I said.

  The captain moved his chair a little closer to me and spoke in a low voice, "I've heard that some noble families are working with bandits, allowing them to thrive off their act of banditry by taking no action against."

  "Oi, Jarvis, you look way too sober to spout nonsense like that. Please, Miss Arianna, don't listen to what this fool is saying."

  "It's not nonsense; it's true. They’re literally using bandits to collect taxes off people. Someone who boarded my ship the other day told me that in the Wiedenfeld Kingdom, there's a place where the Handlers locally have to pay a fee to the various bandit clans to be left alone in their journey."

  The owner rolled his eyes, shaking his head in defeat.

  "That’s true, though. It happened when he was traveling to, um, I don't remember the city he mentioned. Maley? Marley? Or Morley? I'm not too sure anymore."

  "Meley?" I interjected.

  He nodded, vigorously. "Yes, Meley, that's the name of the city."

  The two of them turned toward me. The captain asked, "How did you know?"

  The owner added, "Miss Arianna, you earlier mentioned traveling. Could it be that you traveled from Wiedenfeld on your own?"

  The two men had seen my arrival, carrying my backpack and staff, which, while wrapped, could easily be identified as one. They most likely guessed I was a Verdenkind, if not outright assumed I was a Highbreed. So far, I'd been seen alone, so it was safe to infer that I'd journeyed on my own. Coupled with that is my knowledge about the Wiedenfeld Kingdom. Me traveling alone from Wiedenfeld was a rather logical conjecture. At least at first glance, as there was one aspect of their assessment that made it highly improbable: my age and appearance.

  Although I looked a little older than I was, due to my overall physique, it was very unlikely that a girl, even a Verdenkind or a Highbreed, could have made such a journey alone. This made their assumption seem far-fetched, and I could easily break it apart by pointing this out.

  I unleashed an amused chuckle, shaking my head. "I don't come from there and certainly didn't travel from there alone. I came here with my friends. They parted ways with me once we reached Miriandelle, but I am to wait for them here in the city."

  "Oh... I see. That makes sense. Put like that, it really felt like a stupid question," the owner admitted.

  I felt like using this opportunity to lie about worrying about my friends and the bandits, to ask where exactly this Sandlow was. As interested as I was to that place, and very precisely its road, I had no idea where it could be, but realizing that it would be overdoing it, I decided to just leave it there, beginning to plan ahead.

  After bidding these people goodnight, I would go back to the same routine as I did the past eighteen days. Then, the day after tomorrow, my friends would summon me out of the city for a little while, for a little reconditioning. It was time to lose the extra calories I'd put on eating shrimp and lobster.