Baldwin's POV
The ship glided across the endless stretch of pearly-blue water, sunlight breaking against its surface like shattered glass. The ocean shimmered and rippled, almost too still—too perfect. Baldwin leaned against the railing, the metallic hum of the engines beneath him a faint comfort.
He exhaled slowly. Soon, he thought. We'll reach Fumitan… and maybe then, I'll finally get rid of the weight Jake left me with. His gaze flicked over his shoulder, to the slight figure stumbling toward him along the deck. Emma—Jake's "precious cargo."
Her steps were uneven, her eyes ringed with exhaustion, hair whipped wild by the sea breeze. She looked small, but her stubbornness was anything but. Everyone on this ship was tired—the air reeked of salt and sweat, and the food was rationed thin. Traveling this route was illegal, a smuggler's path—half the passengers were refugees or people running from something.
Emma reached him, her tone cutting through the crash of waves. "When will we reach?"
Baldwin didn't turn immediately. His voice came calm, almost distant. "Soon."
She sighed and leaned on the railing beside him, staring at the horizon. "You keep saying that."
He hummed lowly in response.
"What is it you even see out there?" she asked after a moment, her voice tinged with impatience.
"Nothing…" Baldwin said. He paused, eyes narrowing as the light glimmered on the rolling expanse. "Just—thinking. The water here's different. On Earth, it was a deeper blue. Here it shines more… like it's pretending to be beautiful."
Emma scoffed softly, rubbing her arms against the wind. "It's not the ocean that's different. You're just old."
That made Baldwin huff out a dry laugh. "Maybe."
Silence sat between them for a moment—just the wind, and the creak of the ship's hull.
Baldwin groaned. "Anyway, I'm starving. Let's go get something to eat."
"Finally want to spend some money, huh?" Emma said, side-eyeing him with faint anger.
"I feel like a beggar," she muttered, her voice half-whining.
He turned fully to her this time, his expression unreadable. "We don't know what we'll have to face once we dock. Best keep depending on their kindness for a while longer."
Emma frowned, but said nothing more.
Baldwin turned back to the glittering expanse—the reflection of the twin suns gleamed off the surface like scattered pearls. His fingers tapped against the railing, a silent rhythm.
"Suka…" he murmured the name of the city under his breath. "Let's see what you have waiting for us."
The sea wind carried his words away, swallowed by the shining, endless blue.
.
.
.
.
.
.
After days of endless waves and restless nights, the ship finally groaned to a stop. The sound of the anchor dropping was followed by the chaos of disembarkation—people shoving past one another, eager to set foot on solid ground again.
The moment Baldwin stepped off the ramp, the heat and noise of Suka hit him like a wall. The city was alive, but not in the way one might hope. The docks were crowded with crooked stalls and shouting vendors, their wares—mostly fruit, watered ale, and stale bread—spread out under tattered cloths. The air smelled of salt, oil, and desperation.
"So this is Suka," Baldwin muttered, adjusting the strap of his pack as his eyes scanned the streets.
Beside him, Emma squinted at the jumble of uneven rooftops, rusted pipes, and cobblestone streets that looked like they'd collapse under too much weight. "This is way worse than the last city," she complained, wrinkling her nose.
Baldwin smiled faintly. "That's exactly why it's better."
She shot him a confused glare. "How is this better?"
"Because," he said, stepping off the dock and into the crowd, "a place this poor doesn't ask questions. People here are too busy surviving to care who you are or where you came from."
Emma frowned but followed silently as they moved through the maze of shouting merchants and drunken sailors. They stopped occasionally to ask for directions, but most people brushed them off until an old woman finally pointed them toward an inn farther down the street.
The building was narrow and crooked, with peeling paint and flickering lights. Baldwin opened the door—and immediately gagged. The strong, sour scent of alcohol and smoke hit him full in the face.
He muttered under his breath, "Feels like stepping into the Middle Ages."
Inside, the innkeeper—a round man with a greasy beard—glanced up lazily from behind the counter. Baldwin approached, and after a drawn-out argument over the price that felt more like a battle of wills, he managed to secure a small room for the night.
As they climbed the narrow staircase, Emma groaned. "You're way too stingy, do you know that?"
Baldwin chuckled, the sound low and warm. "You'll understand when you're an adult," he said, shaking his head.
"I am an adult," she muttered.
"Sure you are," Baldwin replied with a smirk.
They reached their door, its hinges creaking as he pushed it open. The room was simple—two narrow beds, a cracked window, and a single lantern hanging from the ceiling. Still, compared to the deck of a ship, it felt like luxury.
Baldwin set down his bag and looked out the window at the city lights flickering below. "We'll rest tonight," he said quietly, more to himself than to Emma. "Tomorrow… we see what this city really hides."
And as the noise of Suka's streets rose into the night, Baldwin's eyes stayed fixed on the horizon.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The faint orange glow of dawn slipped through the cracked window, washing the small room in soft light. Baldwin was already awake, sitting at the edge of his bed, his eyes fixed on the horizon beyond the city's walls. There was a heaviness in his chest—but beneath it, something stirred. Anticipation. Hope.
As the sun rose, so did his determination. The thought of finally finding her—of closing that long, painful distance—gave strength to his weary limbs. He ran a rough hand over his face, the dark stubble scratching his palm, and let out a quiet sigh before standing up. His reflection in the cracked mirror looked older than he remembered—shadowed eyes, grizzled features, lines carved deep by time and guilt.
Behind him, Emma stirred. "You're up early," she murmured, rubbing her eyes.
Baldwin turned slightly. "Couldn't sleep."
She stretched, yawning. "I guess it's today then," she said, her tone half-excited, half-doubtful.
He only nodded. "Yeah. Today."
They dressed quickly, gathering what little they had. The streets outside were already buzzing—the clatter of wagons, the cries of merchants, the ever-present hum of life. The salty scent of the docks mixed with the aroma of frying bread and oil.
As they stepped into the morning chaos, Emma asked, "Where will you find her?"
Baldwin paused for a moment before replying, "No concrete idea. But… I remember the man she left with. He owned a business here. If we find that, we might find a trace of her."
They spent the entire day moving through the winding streets of Suka—talking to traders, bar keeps, even beggars. Every lead turned into a dead end. Some people had heard of the name he mentioned, but none knew where he'd gone. Each time, Baldwin thanked them politely, his tone even, though his patience thinned by the hour.
Emma, trailing behind, watched him silently. The more they searched, the more she could feel his quiet frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior.
By the time the sun began to sink below the horizon, painting the sky a deep amber, they returned to the inn. Their boots were coated in dust, their throats dry, their spirits dimmed.
Emma slumped into a chair, sighing heavily. "It looks like it's going to be harder than we thought," she said, her voice edged with disappointment.
Baldwin didn't answer immediately. He stared out the window, the last rays of sunlight glinting off his tired eyes. Finally, he nodded slowly. "Yeah… it won't be easy. But I've waited this long. What's a little longer?"
There was a pause. The city outside roared with distant laughter, footsteps, and the sound of ships departing.
And though the day had left him worn, Baldwin's resolve only deepened...
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
...
Powerstonessss!!!
Patreon link:-
patreon.com/RoyanTheGreat
Be sure to comment it Motivates me most of the time.