Penitent's End island
Legend said it was the sacred ground where the Sentinel, Imperator, first descended to the world.
But time and tide had weathered away the ages, and after the ravages of a thousand years and the first Dark Tide, this once pure land had long become a desolate wasteland shrouded in death.
Yet on this abandoned scorched earth, the "fools" exiled by the Order of the Deep had miraculously built their own paradise.
After a day and night of sailing, the fleet carrying the exiles finally reached this shore cloaked in gray mist.
If the Order of the Deep hadn't planted bombs on the pilgrimage ship, this would still have been the destination for these condemned souls.
Only what awaited them would have been a different kind of death, devoured by wandering remnants or becoming dragon bait.
Brant stood at the bow, arms spread wide, introducing the paradise to the frightened people.
"Welcome to the Fool's Troupe our promised land, built on this wasteland."
Ray stood quietly by the rail. Though this wasn't his first time here, he was still moved by the sight, this was a flower of hope, planted by exiled souls on the barren soil of despair.
"So, we really... can't go back to Ragunna anymore?"
Someone knelt on the deck, their choked voice heavy with homesickness.
Roccia stepped forward lightly, her small hand landing on the person's trembling shoulder like a feather. "It's okay. Everyone here is from Ragunna. Wherever we all come together, that's the new Ragunna."
Brant took over, his gaze sweeping over every uneasy pair of eyes. "Of course, if anyone doesn't want to stay, we'll escort you anywhere you wish to go, the Septimont, Lilyland, the Riccioli Islands."
"I just want you all to understand: leaving your homeland doesn't mean losing everything. At the Fool's Troupe, in every tomorrow, you can find new meaning to live for."
"You've all been at sea for a long time and must be exhausted. We've prepared food and temporary tents for you to rest. Take your time to think about where you want to go from here."
The people on the deck exchanged glances, then, as if all their strength had been drained, silently followed the guides toward the shore.
Their steps across the gangplank were still unsteady, as if they hadn't yet awakened from the aftermath of the storm.
Ray was about to leave with the crowd when he heard a hesitant voice behind him.
"Thank you so much for your help earlier."
He turned and saw a young man with delicate features standing there nervously.
"Hello, my name is Locke. I'm a novelist." He spoke with a slight bow, like an apprentice who hadn't yet mastered his craft.
"Locke?" Ray mused. "The one who was condemned for his knight novel?"
The young man's ears reddened slightly, and he smiled bitterly. "I'm embarrassed. The scenes in the novel were just fiction, but the Order of the Deep actually found blasphemous metaphors in them..."
His voice trailed off, like a sigh carried away by the sea breeze. "But I'll never give up writing. One day, my works will spread to every corner of Rinascita."
"Is that so? I sincerely look forward to that day." Ray smiled.
"Thank you." As if suddenly remembering something, Locke hurriedly took out an object carefully wrapped in oilcloth.
Beneath the oilcloth was a plainly bound book, with the silhouette of a sword-wielding knight on its cover.
Locke gently ran his hand over the spine, as if touching his own child for the last time. "This is the novel the Order of the Deep banned... almost all the originals were burned, but this one." He handed over the book, his fingertips trembling slightly. "Perhaps it's the only complete copy left in the world, and the original manuscript. It's not a valuable gift, but please accept it."
Ray paused, his gaze falling on the book. The kraft paper cover was worn, but the corners had been carefully repaired, clearly a cherished possession.
"This gift means a lot to you. Why not keep it for yourself?"
Locke smiled freely. "It's nothing compared to what you did at sea. Just as you called yourself a wandering knight, I want to give this novel to a true knight."
"A knight?" Ray paused, then the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. He stopped hesitating and took the book from Locke's hands. "Alright, I'll accept it. As it happens, I know someone who would probably like your novel. And you may have heard of her."
"Huh, I've heard of her?" Locke looked confused. "Who is it, if I may ask?"
"Yes, who is it?" Ray turned away, his tone meaningful. "When the story has traveled far enough, you'll know naturally. She is a true knight."
...
...
Ray returned to his resting place.
After drifting for a whole day and night, exhaustion crept like a tide through his limbs.
He planned to rest briefly before setting out again for Ragunna.
Come to think of it, at home now, there should only be the Second Young Miss and Phrolova, right?
Those two... wouldn't be fighting, would they?
Probably not...
If I'm not there, the Second Young Miss probably wouldn't go back anyway.
That means right now, Phrolova is home alone.
If that was the case, it might be fine.
He just hoped that when he returned, Phrolova hadn't trashed the kitchen.
Though he had no idea about Phrolova's cooking skills, for some reason, he felt a vague unease.
"Anby."
The Tacet Mark flickered slightly, and the little creature popped out, doing a light flip in the air.
"What's up? Need my help? And where are we now? Why am I waking up in a different place every time... And this time, there are no girls around you. That's a first."
"...Looks like I've been feeding you too well." Ray lay back on the bed with a long sigh. "Anby, those books you 'ate' earlier, you've kept them safe in your belly, right?"
"What belly! It's called a stomach!" The little creature puffed out its cheeks in protest, patting its stomach with a thud. "Of course they're safe. You want to see them now?"
"No." Ray picked up the novel in his hand, flipped through it, and handed it to Anby. "I just want to ask you to store this book too."
The corner of Anby's mouth twitched. "...Are you using me as a mobile bookshelf?"
"More like a storage box."
"How mean!"
"Just kidding."
"Even if it's a joke, I'm still mad!" Anby crossed its little paws and turned away in a huff, but peeked back at him. "Unless you treat me to a big meal."
"Like I usually deprive you."
"Well, that's true... Alright, I forgive you."
Just then, a knock at the door broke the room's stillness.
Ciaccona's clear voice drifted through the crack.
"Ray, are you asleep?"
Anby cast him a meaningful glance toward the door and shook its head with a sigh. "See what I mean? Every time I wake up, there's always some new girl around you."
"I can't wait to find out who it'll be next time."