Rihannan and Mary disembarked from the carriage, strolling towards the exclusive VIP check-in lane. Rihannan glanced at Mary, nodding briefly.
“Yes, Miss,” Mary responded.
Mary reached into her trousers and retrieved the tickets, handing them to the sailor whose eyes widened in astonishment upon inspecting the document.
“Pardon me, milady,” the sailor hurriedly ran off, summoning the ship’s captain.
Soon, the captain arrived, bowing respectfully. “A pleasure to meet you, milady. I had expected the Count to be present for your departure. I had hoped to have the honor of meeting his esteemed presence as well.”
The captain’s bow was graceful, his hand extended in greeting. Rihannan smiled, delicately lifting her dress as she placed her hand in his. With his guidance, she stepped onto the ship.
“I must admit, I am surprised to see someone of your standing choosing to travel by ferry,” the captain remarked.
“I desired to leave the country without prying eyes,” Rihannan replied.
“Ah, I understand. Well, we are honored to have you aboard.”
The captain’s mind swirled with questions, unable to fathom why a young noblewoman would depart her homeland in secrecy. Nevertheless, he was content to serve a client of such high status.
He personally escorted Rihannan to her cabin, ensuring its cleanliness and modest size. She would have no difficulties during the few days at sea en route to Crichton.
“And here is your room, the finest aboard the ship! Should you experience any discomfort or require anything, please inform me immediately. I am at your service.”
The captain executed a nominal bow, a customary greeting to a noble, and stepped aside as the maidservants and crew loaded their luggage into the cabin.
Mary wore a look of curiosity, gently tugging at Rihannan’s hand.
“Miss, we still have time. Let us proceed to the deck,” Mary suggested, her voice tinged with excitement.
“Mary, if I am not mistaken, you seem more thrilled than I am,” Rihannan remarked, a soft smile adorning her lips.
“Oh, Miss,” Mary exclaimed, breathless. “I have never been on a ship before.”
Rihannan smiled gently. Mary was more childlike than she herself was. Together, they made their way to the ship’s deck, beholding the vast expanse of the ocean and the bustling port below. They eventually reached the bow of the ship.
At the forefront stood a pointed bow and a golden statue, its gaze fixed upon the sea. The vivid sculpture depicted a bird with wings poised for flight. Rihannan leaned over the railings, peering at the bird’s face, even using its claws for support.
“That is Ataraxia, the guardian of our ship,” a passing sailor explained.
Rihannan turned her head, her features filled with surprise, as she regarded the dark-skinned sailor.
“Did you say Ataraxia?” Rihannan inquired, her curiosity piqued.
“Yes. This ship is named The Ataraxia. Were you unaware?”
Rihannan shook her head in response.
The sailor grinned, his caramel complexion contrasting with his gleaming white teeth. “Well, let me tell you. If you touch the statue, you shall be shielded from the tempestuous sea, returning safely to Arundell. Now that you have touched Ataraxia, you shall one day find yourself back in Arundell.”
“I have no intention of returning to Arundell,” Rihannan stated plainly.
“Oh, you doubt me, don’t you?” The sailor arched an eyebrow. “Well, you shall see.”
Suddenly, a booming voice sounded from behind—a warning for boarding passengers that the ship was about to depart.
Shortly after, the sails unfurled, embracing the wind. Simultaneously, the anchor, once submerged beneath the waves, ascended. The ship, fully prepared for its journey, slowly drifted away from the port and into the boundless sea.
Meanwhile, Rihannan pondered the sailor’s words. Though uttered without much thought, they continued to linger in her mind.
Suddenly, she recalled the Queen’s words. Despite the evidence suggesting discord between her and Igor, Queen Hertia firmly believed that her son harbored affection for Rihannan.
Hertia Cesca had once said, “I know my son well. If he truly had no feelings for you, he would not have married you. It is in our Crichton blood. He will do things he does not wish to do. He possesses a strong desire and obsession to act according to his own will and judgment. I, too, have been deeply influenced by that bloodline, and the same holds true for Igor.”
At that moment, Rihannan silently refuted Hertia’s words, keeping her thoughts to herself as she quietly sipped her tea. However, Hertia chuckled softly, perceptive enough to read the unspoken lines etched upon Rihannan’s face.
“Rihannan, you doubt me. Look at me—I donned my battle armor shortly after giving birth and charged through the treacherous battlefield to secure the crown that was rightfully mine. And what of your own mother? Was she not a gentle soul who employed every means at her disposal to keep her beloved by her side? Mark my words, Igor is no different. He will not easily relinquish you.”
But the Queen… she was mistaken. Wise and prescient beyond her years, yet she knew nothing about her own son.
Her words merely engendered false hope in Rihannan’s heart, painting a picture of a happily-ever-after that would never come to pass.
Igor Cesca, a man steeped in cruelty. Knowing that he could not bear witness to their future heir with her, he abandoned her, using her as a scapegoat to strip away her power, reducing her to nothing.
And so, while the sailor believed in Ataraxia, the young girl could not. She had perished within, her faith in the world irreparably shattered, for all she saw was an abyss of darkness.
“Mary.”
Mary turned her head at the sound of Rihannan’s voice.
Rihannan gazed out at the churning sea. Igor was like the ocean—a surface that shimmered with allure, yet concealed the unknown depths beneath.
“Yes, Miss?”
“It’s getting rather chilly. Could you please go to the cabin and fetch my shawl?” Rihannan said, crossing her arms.
“Yes, of course! Just a moment, please.”
Mary hurried off to the cabin to retrieve the woolen shawl.
In that moment, Rihannan reached into a hidden compartment, extracting an item she held dear—a golden feather.
From the moment she had received the feather until her dying breath, she had cherished it as a precious treasure. Foolishness, she thought, to hold onto it now.
Closing her eyes, Rihannan took a deep breath and cast the feather upon the deep blue sea. It floated briefly upon the waves before sinking, vanishing without a trace.
Shortly after, Mary returned, holding the shawl in her hands.
“Actually, Mary, upon further reflection, I believe it would be best if we return inside. I am starting to feel a chill, and I fear a cold may be settling in. I apologize for the trouble…”
Rihannan offered a weak smile.
“Oh, Miss, don’t worry about it. If you were to catch a cold, it would be a problem for both of us.”
Mary led the way towards the stern of the ship, and soon they arrived in front of the cabin. Mary’s footsteps resounded, her pace slightly ahead of Rihannan’s. She stood at the side, patiently waiting for the young lady. As Rihannan opened the door, a commotion erupted from the port.
Two individuals atop a horse came to a sudden halt near the docks. They shouted loudly, but their voices failed to reach the ship, which had departed from the shore minutes ago. A young boy dismounted from the horse, causing it to stumble in his haste.
Soon, the boy engaged in a heated argument with the sailors. Though his gestures conveyed a command for the ship to turn back, the seafarers, annoyed by his brash and unruly behavior, encircled him threateningly, attempting to quell his vehement protest.
The older man accompanying the boy dismounted as well, drawing a knife from his waist.
Mary gasped at the scene, her eyes sharp and attentive.
Upon hearing the distant clamor, Rihannan halted and looked up at Mary.
“Mary, what’s happening?”
“Oh, it’s nothing of consequence, Miss. There are a group of ruffians causing a disturbance at the harbor. It’s nothing we need to concern ourselves with.”
Mary gently nudged Rihannan toward the cabin, shielding her from witnessing the unfolding scene.
“If they had wished to board the ship, they should have arrived earlier. Being late is their own fault. What is wrong with these people? There are many in this world who lack common sense, Miss.”
“Did all of that truly happen?” Rihannan asked, smiling at Mary.
The two women entered the cabin and closed the door firmly behind them. In the center of the door, an image of Ataraxia soaring into the sky was imprinted.
Meanwhile, at the harbor, the young boy gazed blankly at the ship in the distance. Behind him stood a man, facing the frenzied sailors alone, his trusty sword in hand.
As the sailors grew increasingly enraged by the boy’s unreasonable demands and the man’s subsequent threats, they, too, brandished their weapons. Closing in step by step, their anger mounting, the man with the sword urgently whispered to the boy.
“Prince… no, Mr. Igor, you must do something about this, or we shall both perish!”
Yet, the boy’s gaze remained fixated upon the sea, his interest solely held by the departing ship from Arundell. And then, he spoke.
“Go and apologize,” the young boy uttered, his eyes unyielding. None of this would have occurred had they arrived minutes earlier.
“But…”
“Then handle it on your own.”
Rihannan and Mary disembarked from the carriage, strolling towards the exclusive VIP check-in lane. Rihannan glanced at Mary, nodding briefly.
“Yes, Miss,” Mary responded.
Mary reached into her trousers and retrieved the tickets, handing them to the sailor whose eyes widened in astonishment upon inspecting the document.
“Pardon me, milady,” the sailor hurriedly ran off, summoning the ship’s captain.
Soon, the captain arrived, bowing respectfully. “A pleasure to meet you, milady. I had expected the Count to be present for your departure. I had hoped to have the honor of meeting his esteemed presence as well.”
The captain’s bow was graceful, his hand extended in greeting. Rihannan smiled, delicately lifting her dress as she placed her hand in his. With his guidance, she stepped onto the ship.
“I must admit, I am surprised to see someone of your standing choosing to travel by ferry,” the captain remarked.
“I desired to leave the country without prying eyes,” Rihannan replied.
“Ah, I understand. Well, we are honored to have you aboard.”
The captain’s mind swirled with questions, unable to fathom why a young noblewoman would depart her homeland in secrecy. Nevertheless, he was content to serve a client of such high status.
He personally escorted Rihannan to her cabin, ensuring its cleanliness and modest size. She would have no difficulties during the few days at sea en route to Crichton.
“And here is your room, the finest aboard the ship! Should you experience any discomfort or require anything, please inform me immediately. I am at your service.”
The captain executed a nominal bow, a customary greeting to a noble, and stepped aside as the maidservants and crew loaded their luggage into the cabin.
Mary wore a look of curiosity, gently tugging at Rihannan’s hand.
“Miss, we still have time. Let us proceed to the deck,” Mary suggested, her voice tinged with excitement.
“Mary, if I am not mistaken, you seem more thrilled than I am,” Rihannan remarked, a soft smile adorning her lips.
“Oh, Miss,” Mary exclaimed, breathless. “I have never been on a ship before.”
Rihannan smiled gently. Mary was more childlike than she herself was. Together, they made their way to the ship’s deck, beholding the vast expanse of the ocean and the bustling port below. They eventually reached the bow of the ship.
At the forefront stood a pointed bow and a golden statue, its gaze fixed upon the sea. The vivid sculpture depicted a bird with wings poised for flight. Rihannan leaned over the railings, peering at the bird’s face, even using its claws for support.
“That is Ataraxia, the guardian of our ship,” a passing sailor explained.
Rihannan turned her head, her features filled with surprise, as she regarded the dark-skinned sailor.
“Did you say Ataraxia?” Rihannan inquired, her curiosity piqued.
“Yes. This ship is named The Ataraxia. Were you unaware?”
Rihannan shook her head in response.
The sailor grinned, his caramel complexion contrasting with his gleaming white teeth. “Well, let me tell you. If you touch the statue, you shall be shielded from the tempestuous sea, returning safely to Arundell. Now that you have touched Ataraxia, you shall one day find yourself back in Arundell.”
“I have no intention of returning to Arundell,” Rihannan stated plainly.
“Oh, you doubt me, don’t you?” The sailor arched an eyebrow. “Well, you shall see.”
Suddenly, a booming voice sounded from behind—a warning for boarding passengers that the ship was about to depart.
Shortly after, the sails unfurled, embracing the wind. Simultaneously, the anchor, once submerged beneath the waves, ascended. The ship, fully prepared for its journey, slowly drifted away from the port and into the boundless sea.
Meanwhile, Rihannan pondered the sailor’s words. Though uttered without much thought, they continued to linger in her mind.
Suddenly, she recalled the Queen’s words. Despite the evidence suggesting discord between her and Igor, Queen Hertia firmly believed that her son harbored affection for Rihannan.
Hertia Cesca had once said, “I know my son well. If he truly had no feelings for you, he would not have married you. It is in our Crichton blood. He will do things he does not wish to do. He possesses a strong desire and obsession to act according to his own will and judgment. I, too, have been deeply influenced by that bloodline, and the same holds true for Igor.”
At that moment, Rihannan silently refuted Hertia’s words, keeping her thoughts to herself as she quietly sipped her tea. However, Hertia chuckled softly, perceptive enough to read the unspoken lines etched upon Rihannan’s face.
“Rihannan, you doubt me. Look at me—I donned my battle armor shortly after giving birth and charged through the treacherous battlefield to secure the crown that was rightfully mine. And what of your own mother? Was she not a gentle soul who employed every means at her disposal to keep her beloved by her side? Mark my words, Igor is no different. He will not easily relinquish you.”
But the Queen… she was mistaken. Wise and prescient beyond her years, yet she knew nothing about her own son.
Her words merely engendered false hope in Rihannan’s heart, painting a picture of a happily-ever-after that would never come to pass.
Igor Cesca, a man steeped in cruelty. Knowing that he could not bear witness to their future heir with her, he abandoned her, using her as a scapegoat to strip away her power, reducing her to nothing.
And so, while the sailor believed in Ataraxia, the young girl could not. She had perished within, her faith in the world irreparably shattered, for all she saw was an abyss of darkness.
“Mary.”
Mary turned her head at the sound of Rihannan’s voice.
Rihannan gazed out at the churning sea. Igor was like the ocean—a surface that shimmered with allure, yet concealed the unknown depths beneath.
“Yes, Miss?”
“It’s getting rather chilly. Could you please go to the cabin and fetch my shawl?” Rihannan said, crossing her arms.
“Yes, of course! Just a moment, please.”
Mary hurried off to the cabin to retrieve the woolen shawl.
In that moment, Rihannan reached into a hidden compartment, extracting an item she held dear—a golden feather.
From the moment she had received the feather until her dying breath, she had cherished it as a precious treasure. Foolishness, she thought, to hold onto it now.
Closing her eyes, Rihannan took a deep breath and cast the feather upon the deep blue sea. It floated briefly upon the waves before sinking, vanishing without a trace.
Shortly after, Mary returned, holding the shawl in her hands.
“Actually, Mary, upon further reflection, I believe it would be best if we return inside. I am starting to feel a chill, and I fear a cold may be settling in. I apologize for the trouble…”
Rihannan offered a weak smile.
“Oh, Miss, don’t worry about it. If you were to catch a cold, it would be a problem for both of us.”
Mary led the way towards the stern of the ship, and soon they arrived in front of the cabin. Mary’s footsteps resounded, her pace slightly ahead of Rihannan’s. She stood at the side, patiently waiting for the young lady. As Rihannan opened the door, a commotion erupted from the port.
Two individuals atop a horse came to a sudden halt near the docks. They shouted loudly, but their voices failed to reach the ship, which had departed from the shore minutes ago. A young boy dismounted from the horse, causing it to stumble in his haste.
Soon, the boy engaged in a heated argument with the sailors. Though his gestures conveyed a command for the ship to turn back, the seafarers, annoyed by his brash and unruly behavior, encircled him threateningly, attempting to quell his vehement protest.
The older man accompanying the boy dismounted as well, drawing a knife from his waist.
Mary gasped at the scene, her eyes sharp and attentive.
Upon hearing the distant clamor, Rihannan halted and looked up at Mary.
“Mary, what’s happening?”
“Oh, it’s nothing of consequence, Miss. There are a group of ruffians causing a disturbance at the harbor. It’s nothing we need to concern ourselves with.”
Mary gently nudged Rihannan toward the cabin, shielding her from witnessing the unfolding scene.
“If they had wished to board the ship, they should have arrived earlier. Being late is their own fault. What is wrong with these people? There are many in this world who lack common sense, Miss.”
“Did all of that truly happen?” Rihannan asked, smiling at Mary.
The two women entered the cabin and closed the door firmly behind them. In the center of the door, an image of Ataraxia soaring into the sky was imprinted.
Meanwhile, at the harbor, the young boy gazed blankly at the ship in the distance. Behind him stood a man, facing the frenzied sailors alone, his trusty sword in hand.
As the sailors grew increasingly enraged by the boy’s unreasonable demands and the man’s subsequent threats, they, too, brandished their weapons. Closing in step by step, their anger mounting, the man with the sword urgently whispered to the boy.
“Prince… no, Mr. Igor, you must do something about this, or we shall both perish!”
Yet, the boy’s gaze remained fixated upon the sea, his interest solely held by the departing ship from Arundell. And then, he spoke.
“Go and apologize,” the young boy uttered, his eyes unyielding. None of this would have occurred had they arrived minutes earlier.
“But…”
“Then handle it on your own.”
