Gregory Hereford patrolled the Excalibur, sword in hand. While he believed it was a useless gesture, many of the Wings believed it was necessary. Only a few hours ago, a pirate vessel opened fire upon their ship.

But by some miracle, none of their cannon fire managed to pass their barriers. As he was told, this ship was going to be the flagship of the Exorcist's Abbey, the sailing sword of the late Shepherd Artorius.

But the air from earlier did not dissipate. Tension ran heavy in the air, even among the guards. In those few hours, a volcano erupted and bombarded a small village with soot and fire. To some of the men, the Emissary of theirs went over to try and evacuate the people, even if they were reluctant to do so.

Out of the villagers, only a hand-full decided to join with them. And now, they were stored at the bottom of the ship, screaming and yelling for vengeance.

"Hey buddy, you ok?" One of the warriors, a venator-class Wing asked.

"O-ooh? Y-yeah, I'm ok…"

"You sure?"

He leaned against the railing. "Yeah, I'm not."

"We all aren't." He shook his head. "Deirde's taking it incredibly hard."

"She's been locked in her room with only Minerva talking to her huh?"

"Yeah. It was Fergus's orders to do it, but… Was it even necessary at that point?"

Gregory didn't know what to say. This ship had walls, but they listened as well. There were plenty of Fergus's pawns about the ships.

Yet, despite all of that, many of the members were only so because of a certain woman he had directly under him. The one who's speeches always seemed to uplift the spirits of the crew. Yet, she always carried a solemn tone and quiet disposition. Where did he find such a woman was beyond him.

"Come on, Minerva's got a speech for us. Maybe that'll help."

Nodding, the two members of Morrígan's Wings walked down the ships hallways. Strange runes seemed to stretch down each wall, gently glowing against the wooden interior. Some say it was inscribed artes, helping the ship's performance. Other's believed it was just illuminating the hallways when it gets dark. Either way, it mattered not to them.

Up the stairway, several members of the Wings stood on standby. To the distance, several smaller vessels floated by. The stolen Excalibur was their flag vessels, but the fleet was all former exorcist ships that were displaced during the Abbey Reformation.

Just in front of the ship's grand skylight was the Speaker of the Wings, Minerva Parmenides. Her deep black hair tied behind her head as she looked to the rest of the fleet then back to the soldiers before her. As the close Wings say, her eyes were red. Not bloodshot, but slightly swollen.

Of course, it was hard even for them, as the young Speaker rode about the ship with a small piece of technology. A chair with large wheels, pushed and propelled from a person behind her. Lodged into the back were tall crates, filled with extracted mana from the leylines and contained by binding artes.

Slowly, Minerva pulled herself up to the podium, using it as her crutch.

"My dear allies and friends… Today we have committed a great act. The Power of the Flame Empyrean, Musiphe is under our control. And at a terrible cost." She closed her eyes, leaning down.

"The small town that sat at the base of the volcano has been eradicated. What few people we have saved now sit below the Excalibur. Forlorn. Broken. A life they once believed would never end has come to a tragic end. But we must not give up hope. For the sake of our pure and blue world, we must advance!"

"We will be sending them to another island, one of our former outposts in the outer seas. I know, it is not much for them, we who brought calamity to their home. There are things that cannot be fixed with a simple give back. The only think we can hope is that in time…"

Minerva clamped her mouth, coughing. A fit that almost seemed like her throwing up her lungs. It continued and her face turned pale. She reached around, grabbing an iron-mask. Breathing back and forth, her coughing stopped. But the paleness of her body remained.

"In time… We hope that they be able to forgive us… Stay strong my Wings. Stay safe."

The woman sat back in her chair as the attendees carted her off. Coming into view was their leader, Fergus stood. "All members return to your posts. The fleet will continue to our resupplying post."

And so, the small speech was finished. Gregory rubbed his eyes, looking at the sun's beams glittering off the sea water. Several spawns of flying fish skimming off the water before diving right back into its waves.

But that was the live of a guard.

Back to work, he still couldn't keep his mind off Minerva. Several members of the Wings only joined because of her. Sometimes it was due to an impossible favor she gave to them. Other's were sworn by minor oaths, a little goddess that descended to them at their time of need.

Gregory smiled. It was the same for him. Years ago, he was searching for the mythical Omega Elixer, a near impossible task. Gathering several components to help cure his son's illness. He remembered that his young boy asking a small group he befriended but after gathering all but the last ingredient, they vanished.

It was around that time, Shepherd Artorius died to the Lord of Calamity.

He felt crushed. The death of the Shepherd took a toll on the Abbey and with his son's condition deteriorating, Gregory looked around. Just like a drowning child, trying to reach the surface.

An angel descended upon him in his time of crisis. Minerva travelled to the town, with the last ingredient. She claimed she was but a simple apothecary, travelling by. But she looked through the window, seeing his son ill.

For whatever reason, he let her in. Desperation called him and he was rewarded. Within a few hours, his son was cured.

It's been seven years since then, and he's grown up to be a fine young man, studying to be a historian in the Empire. Though, he's also kept a small job with medicinal herbs, just like Minerva.

He asked what way he could repay her. She smiled back, explaining that she was a member of an elite group in the Abbey, and she was scouting out members. Even with the Abbey dissolving, they were still performing their duties.

Gregory blinked, finding himself at the edge of the ship's stern. Other Morrígan Wing's vessels sailing close. Several of their own guards giving curt nods and waves before continuing their route.

Back to work it was.

-.-.-

Several hours later, Gregory's shift ended. Now, it was just time to relax and eat some food. It would be another two more hours until they dropped off the villagers and resupplied.

Already, the dining hall was lively. A few members strummed up a violin and lute, playing songs they sang during their Exorcist initiation. Beer foam flew from one end to the other as he walked over to the galley maid.

"What'll have? At the current moment, we're just cleaning up." The woman behind the counter said.

"Anything with an ale. Long shift today."

"Coming right up. Take a seat and we'll bring it to ya… Gregory, right?"

"That's me."

She smiled, heading off to the back as he took a seat. Several more members came in as other Wings cheered for their arrival. His venator friend from earlier came around, patting him on the back.

"Getting anything good?"

"Yeah…" He sighed, resting his elbows against the table. "I just kinda miss home now."

"How long you've with the Wings?"

"About seven years."

"And on this boat?"

"Only two."

"Ouch… You said you were married right? How's the letters going?"

"Not bad. Good thing we've got our own slyphjays. Even some of the malakhim act as rapid mailmen."

Gregory leaned back, smiling. "Yeah. And without their creep-looking masks, they're pretty friendly."

"I heard that other Exorcists lost their malak. Like they just mass-deserted."

"Same. I wonder why the malak here didn't do that."

With the small conversation out, his plate came to him. A nice plate of fresh fish, salted beef and two biscuits, dunked in a small gravy. Sometimes it was amazing how this ship managed to carry such great food. Then again, it was going to be the pride of the Abbey Fleet, of course it was going to be the best ship possible. A perfect union of human engineering and malak artes.

"Officer on deck!"

Gregory immediately stood up, saluting.

"Y-you really don't need to do this…" A meek voice called out behind an armored man. Despite being a young woman, she was rather timid. Soft blonde hair chopped short.

In front of her was the man who guarded her frequently. Still wearing his Bestiarius-helmet, covering his face. And in some basic metal scraps of armor. Gregory swore that he's never seen his face.

"Deirde and Setanta."

The woman stepped out, bowing her head as she walked over to the counter and the general chaos resumed. Right behind her, Setanta followed.

Curious, Gregory tilted his head, listening to their conversation.

"J-just some biscuits." Deirde mumbled. Her voice softened and downdraught. Poor girl. He still didn't have a clue why Fergus ordered her to do so.

"Water. I'll be fine." Setanta nodded.

"You must eat Setanta." The woman pressed.

"Eating too much will slow me down."

"And eating too little will leave you without energy."

Despite their light batter, they were good friends. A proud knight and his charge. Several of the Wings believed they were dating, but Setanta never answered. Deirde shyly avoided the answer as well.

Whatever was happening between the two, it was these little moments that Gregory looked back. His son, now a young man, was travelling to and from the capital, all a part of his studies for the historian's college. Back home, he's got another child, a young daughter who's barely seen him.

Lingering regret weighted his heart as he looked around. He wondered how many of members had families back home. If they missed them or not. In fact, as far as he could recall, they never talked about their families. At least, in greater detail.

"Hey, Earth to Greg. You still there?"

The man turned to his friend. "Yeah, sorry. Just looking at the Wings best couple."

His friend laughed. "Yeah, the best couple in the fleet. Kind of a shame. How they got caught up in all of this."

The older man shrugged. They were of age. Old enough to make their own decisions. For their love, they were devoted to the cause. Or more specifically, Minerva. Almost lost in thought, he turned to Setanta. His glass lifted in the air and pushed against the grating of his helmet. No matter how many times he saw this, Gregory couldn't get how the younger man managed to drink like that.

Maybe it wasn't worth the thought.

Back to his ale, he downed in one go before finishing the rest of his plate.

"Heading off to bed?"

"Yeah, I'm going. Night."

"Night."

-.-.-

Despite the alcohol and drowsiness, it was a sleepless night again. The slow revelations that occurred today could not quell his thoughts. Gregory slowly pulled himself out from the cot and stumbled for his clothing. At least he'd be half-dressed if he was spotted.

Escaping the crew's quarters was easy. The runes about the ship glowing a dim red hue, making the shadows deeper and outlines bigger. Going through stairs and hallways, he found himself outside. The pale moonlight glimmering against the hull and sea. A light breeze brushing his face.

As he closed his eyes to enjoy the quiet, he heard low shouts. It was Minerva and Fergus. Curious, he followed the trail of voices, back to the captains quarters.

"… I don't approve of your methods."

"I don't care. Melchior gave us an order. We follow it to the letter."

"By blowing up a volcano?"

Fergus scowled. "Need I remind you who has control of the organization?" Wood creaked and snapped. Minerva whimpered.

"Who was the one Melchior entrusted? The person who will carry his will? This organization was messy before, wandering like a lost puppy. And now, it has become a grand army. One powerful enough to withstand the Empire's navy."

Minerva remained silent. There was a low creaking against the floorboards. A small scuffle before she spoke again.

"I… I understand."

"Good. Now return to your quarters."

A moment later, Gregory hid himself behind some crates. Minerva emerging from the captains quarters as she hauled herself away to the deck. Even with teared eyes, she looked to the stars above. Redness so visible on her face. And yet, she kept such a fearsome look. Broken, yet resolute.

Shaking in her seat, the young woman stood up, holding herself steady for a moment as she leaned against the banisters. Her lips trembled, a coughing fit growing as she leaned over, throwing up.

"Your excellency." He almost cupped his mouth. Did he just…?

As the raven-haired woman turned around, she slowly regained her composure. That same almost motherly smile on her face as she sat down in her chair. "Hello Gregory Hereford."

"Y-you remember my name?"

"I remember all of the names enlisted to the Wings. I'm surprised to see you awake."

"Y-yeah well… yeah." He slowly walked over, leaning against the ship's rails.

"Something is deeply troubling you, isn't it?"

"N-no, nothing at all."

She chuckled. "Gregory Hereford, there is very little I cannot learn from just looking at people." Minerva rolled herself over, stopping just at his feet. "Please, speak your mind."

"That order Fergus ordered. Was it necessary? Our issue with the Empyrean of Earth was just draining mana from the earthpulse there."

"I cannot say." She sadly looked down. "I cannot change his orders."

"Right." He sighed. "Tell me, are we all doomed down this path?"

"No… No." She shook her head. "I remember when I met you, on the verge of despair. Your son was dying."

"And you cured him."

She laughed. "Please, I was just passing through. But then I asked if you wished to follow me. And here you are. Do you regret your choices?"

"I don't but, after this event, I'm not sure if I can trust this organization anymore."

"You wouldn't be the first to tell me this." Gregory looked over. It wasn't?

"Indeed my friend. You have spirited off several other members, some too injured or weakened by their journey. It is my duty to keep everybody happy. And if they aren't, we retire them." She leaned in. "Of course, if Fergus got word of this, he would kill me."

"But he hasn't."

She smiled. "How long have you been on this ship?"

"Just two."

"Aah, your son must be a young man by now." She bowed her head. "You've grown tired, haven't you?"

"I have. Minerva, could you possibly do the same as you've done with them?"

She sadly smiled. "We will never be seeing each other again. As well as your friends and allies here."

"I know. But…"

"I understand completely. There once was a time I had such a thing happen to me." She covered her chest. "I still hold their memories to my heart."

"I wish you and the rest of the Wings good luck in that pure world."

"And I wish you well with your family. You still have a chance. A life beyond this." Minerva turned to her side. "Malak Tam-Lin."

A male malak appeared behind her. "Yes, your excellency."

"Please, take Gregory Hereford back home. He's earned his keep."

"It shall be done." The man held his hand open to Gregory.

"So. This is it, huh?"

"We shall never see each other again my friend." Minerva bowed her head. "Goodbye."

As soon as Gregory grabbed his hand, they vanished. Not even a trace of artes in the air. Once more, Minerva slumped herself back in her chair, turning to the stars.

She reached out with her hand, grasping at the northern star and sighed. Hands that'll never reach the heavens again.

"A storm is coming. Those that cannot bear it bunker down and hide. I gave my warnings, but… Will this cycle come to a close?"

-.-.-

Hot air blew about his face. The freezing chill of the night sky disappeared when Gregory opened his eyes. There he was. Back in Westgand. Just in the port to…

Home.

Gregory nearly collapsed to a knee. The darkness was growing deeper and deeper still until light's first break. Dawn was here. Back on his feet, he rushed home, running past several red-scarfed knights as he found his house. He leaned against the door frame, several tears running down his face.

This was no dream.

Fingering his pockets, he found his key. Fumbling and missing, he finally sunk the latch in and opened the door. Wood creaking as he stepped inside. The remains of a roaring fire left only the charcoal remains of a log.

He gulped, tip-toeing through the living space and to a bedroom door. His hands shook, but steadied for just one second.

Gregory opened the door, seeing a small crib besides the larger bed. As he silently walked to the crib, what he saw filled his heart.

A small baby girl, hands curled together, sleeping. As the sun peaked through the window, the man gently touched her small chubby cheeks.

The lightest giggle escaped her lips as tiny digits wrapped around his finger.

A half-laugh. A bitter cry.

And all, but a simple smile.

"Well… I'm back."

For the most overlooked part of humanity, to be just a Simple Man…

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