"I have to be hard on her," protested Haschel. "She's my daughter. If I'm not harder on her than everyone else, they'll think I'm showing favoritism."

He set down the pitcher of water and took a long sip from his glass.

"I know, babe," replied Karliah. "But if you're too hard on her, she'll just end up resenting you."

Haschel set down his glass and put his hands on Karliah's arms. "I got this. Don't worry. Claire is stronger than I think either of us realize."

Karliah sighed. "Just be careful. She's at that age where she's going to start resisting your every command."

"Part of the job of a master is to teach teenagers how to power through those kinds of things."

"And the job of a father is to be there for her."

"I can be both!"

Karliah pursed her lips. "If you say so."

With a broad grin, Haschel wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. "You're the prettiest thing in town, you know that?"

She rolled her eyes but smiled in return anyway. "You are an idiot," she replied.

"Mm," he agreed. "But you love me anyway."

"That I do."

And he leaned down to kiss her.

An hour later, Haschel barked orders to a group of eight seventeen-year-old martial artists on the highest platform in the Rouge school, looming high above the village from the side of the mountain. The ocean gleamed behind them, but Haschel stayed focused on their movements.

Each of these students had been a part of training for ten years now, and they were the height of skill in the school. The extensive and much-anticipated graduation ceremony was to occur in eight days, where each of them would face their master, Haschel. Any who managed to land at least three hits on him would be permitted to graduate, one of the highest honors on the island.

"Claire, keep your feet in place!" he called out as her right foot skidded forward half an inch.

Her eyes were focused, and he was pleased to see them narrow at his call. Her foot returned to its place and did not leave again.

They moved through various poses, each of them perfectly in sync with the others, and Haschel smiled at his creations.

The time came for them to spar, and they divided into predetermined pairs and began to do so. Again, Haschel watched them closely, weaving in between the pairs as they punched and kicked at each other. Whenever someone stumbled, he reprimanded them. Anytime someone lost their footing, he scolded them. And time and again, he found himself rounding on his daughter, Claire.

"Claire, you are better than this!" he found himself shouting. "You've done this a million times over."

She huffed and continued, but her sloppy hand movements had him placed behind her, grabbing her arms to show her what to do. He jerked them to and fro, showing her exactly where her hands should be at all times, and Claire nodded, though her eyes were full of fury.

Good, he thought. Use that. Push harder.

The students fought again, and just as Haschel was correcting the strike of one of the boys, he heard a clatter and spun to see Claire on the ground. He waited, but she did not rise. Heart pounding in disappointment and anger, he rushed over and jerked her to her feet.

"You do not give up!" he shouted at her. "You always get up, and you keep fighting! This is inexcusable behavior."

"You don't always have to yell at me like that!" she screamed back at him.

"I will do as I please. This is my school, and you are my pupil!"

"So I'm not even your daughter anymore?"

"Not here, you're not!"

"Then maybe I don't want to be here anymore!"

Before he could stop it, his hand had raised, and he struck her across the face. She stumbled backward, cradling her cheek, refusing to look at him.

"That is not how you speak to your master," he said quietly. "Get back to training."

The entire group was silent as Claire glared at Haschel and resumed her place before Lotta, her sparring companion.

"Go on!" shouted Haschel. "Back at it!"

The students, silenced by their awe, resumed their training, though Haschel noticed that each of them was now pulling their punches. All except Claire.

"Stop holding back!" he barked at them. "Give it everything you have! If you want to beat me next week, you have to actually try."

Standing aside, he crossed his arms and watched carefully. Their attacks resumed their original potency, and Claire had become especially aggressive. So forceful was she that Lotta almost appeared afraid at times, desperately dodging Claire's attacks. Haschel smiled to see her so focused. Then Claire leapt into the air, spinning as she did so, and kicked Lotta on the side of her face.

A sickening crack rang out, and Lotta crumpled to the floor.

Everyone froze, and Claire covered her mouth in fear. Then collapsing next to Lotta, she jostled her slightly. Lotta did not move.

"Lotta?" she asked carefully.

Rushing forward, Haschel knelt and turned Lotta onto her back. Her head remained in place, barely moving with the rest of her body. Her neck had snapped. She was dead.

"No, no, please, Lotta," pleaded Claire as she began to weep.

Haschel's heart beat faster and faster as he realized what had happened. In his anger, in his desperation, he rounded on Claire.

"How could you have done this?" he demanded. She stood and backed away from him, tears streaming down her face, unable to tear her eyes from the corpse that now lay on the floor. "You couldn't control your own emotions, and look what happened! You murdered someone, Claire! I should expel you for this!"

"I'm—" She fought to speak but was unable.

"Get out of my sight!" he screamed.

She turned, her sobs echoing around as she rushed down the stairs. Haschel spun, his heart heavy as he watched the six other students cry over Lotta's body.

What had she done?

"Hello, sailor…" muttered Haschel as he stopped in his tracks to get a better view.

One of the crew of the Queen Fury was working to organize some of the cargo that had been brought aboard in Donau. The woman's long, brown hair was pulled into a tight bun, but her uniform was snug in all the right places. Excited as Haschel had been to take a walk about the deck and get to know the ship, his excitement was now redirected.

Walking over to her, he leaned against the doorway to the engine room and smiled as she looked up from her manifest.

"Hey," he said.

"Good morning, and welcome to the Queen Fury," she dismissed, turning back to her work without a second thought.

Mid-thirties, he wagered.

"Where's all this cargo going?" prodded Haschel.

"Some down in the cargo hold, some to the kitchens, and some to the engine room," she responded without emotion. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

She walked up to one of the crates and searched for a label. Upon finding none, she swore and barked an order that someone retrieve her a crowbar.

"Let me help with that," he said before trotting up to the crate. He assessed the lid and deemed that it was only held together by a few nails. Then digging his fingers in the tiny crevice under the lid, he pulled abruptly, beyond pleased when his dragoon strength proved enough to wrench it open, revealing a pile of dirty brown potatoes. He gestured to it as if revealing some grand prize, and she stepped forward to examine the contents.

"To the kitchens!" she barked at another crew member, and he rushed forward with a dolly to cart it off to its destination. Then she turned her attention to Haschel with an eyebrow quirked. "You a showoff then?" The corner of her mouth turned slightly, and Haschel grinned to see his opportunity.

"Only if the girls are pretty enough," he responded.

"You think I'm pretty?"

Haschel nodded enthusiastically.

"And how old are you?" she asked, still smirking.

"Young enough," he winked.

"I'm pretty sure that you're old enough to be my father," she protested, though the mischief had not left her eye. She turned around, and Haschel enjoyed the view.

"Just means I know what I'm doing," he reasoned.

She turned back around and approached him, peering at him with critical eyes. "So, what? You come aboard decorated as some hero for something that I don't even know about, and you think you can just succeed at a conquest with no challenge? You don't even know my name."

"I can rise to any challenge. What's your name?"

She paused before answering. "Jade."

"Well, Jade," he grinned, taking a step forward so that their faces were only an inch apart. "I am a hero. I saved the entire royal family of Tiberoa. And I bet you that I can win you over by the time we reach Mille Seseau."

She grinned and stepped away to study another crate. "We'll see," she said.

"I'll leave you to work for now," said Haschel. "But you'll go off duty at some point. Just let me know whenever you need help fitting crates into the cargo hold. I've heard it's a lot easier if you have someone to help."

Jade merely shook her head, and Haschel walked off, though a glance backward showed her sporting a smile.

Only a matter of time, he chuckled to himself.

For the next several minutes, he amused himself with studying the various rope systems swinging about the deck and mast. Though the Queen Fury was powered by an engine, it still had sails as a failsafe in case the engine stopped working, and Haschel dreamed of what he could do if he pulled just the right rope, and the sails came billowing out of their confines. All the while, he kept a close eye on Jade, pleased to see that often, she would also cast a glance in his direction.

In the middle of his reverie, thundering footsteps followed by a horde of smaller footsteps came rushing toward him from the stern deck.

"Haschel!" called Meru, and she ran up with the little dog in tow.

"You have a shadow," chuckled Haschel.

"What can I say? She likes me." Meru grinned and reached a hand out to Nova, whose hindquarters wiggled with glee as she reached up to sniff it. Then the dog dropped into a bow, trying to convince Meru to play with her.

"What has you running up to me like this?" he asked.

Meru dragged her hand across the sky as if revealing the words floating before her. "Fun! Adventure! Entertainment!"

"In what form?"

"We're on a ship, Haschel! What more explanation do you need?"

"You know, eventually it gets old."

"Nonsense. Now come with me!"

She grabbed his wrist with two hands and began pulling him toward the bow of the ship. For an hour, she ran around with him like a child with no toys. She asked him a thousand questions about different parts of the ship, and although he was at first happy to answer, the questions quickly became tedious. Eventually, she demanded that they make their way below deck, and Haschel obliged. She got him roped into a game of cards in the cafeteria, which he won with virtually no competition, and then she pushed him back onto the deck.

Then, amid complaints about his being "boring," a crash sounded out as a stack of crates cascaded to the ground close by. Barking rang out just after, and about seven seconds later, Nova came bounding onto the deck and barking furiously at whatever she deemed dangerous. Haschel chuckled. He had forgotten about her while they were in the cafeteria.

Kongol, who had been just beyond the cargo, hurried over and began picking up the crates as if they were filled with loose tufts of cotton and replaced them on their stacks. Jade, who had been holding her hands exasperatedly on her head, now began telling Kongol where to place them so that they were more stable. Nova calmed, and Meru wandered away toward Kongol, her new shiny toy.

With a laugh, Haschel stood back to watch the commotion she brought forth afterward. Mostly, his eye was on Jade. She was gorgeous. And he was determined.

Still, the time wasn't right. He would have to wait until her shift was over if he wanted any time to woo her.

Shrugging, he ran back to the cafeteria and waited with the other crew members for lunch to be served. He enjoyed talking and laughing with them, as many of them reminded him of old friends in Rouge. He took the opportunity to ask them about some of the rigging on the ship, and one sailor even took the time to show him the specifics of sailing a large ship like the Queen Fury. As they walked about the deck, Haschel noticed Jade putting the finishing touches on her work as the last of the crates was taken away to its destination in the engine room. He winked at her as he caught her eye, and she smiled and turned away, blushing.

"So, what's the deal with her?" Haschel asked the sailor.

"Jade?" He chuckled. "She's a rule-follower for sure. Plenty of young sailors have tried to win her heart, but she refuses to get involved with anyone on the ship. Saves all her escapades for when we're docked. Might not take any issue with a hero like yourself, though."

"Oh, I'll bet," grinned Haschel.

With his tour complete, Haschel then found Dart on the deck and immediately pestered him into agreeing to be taught everything he knew about the Queen Fury and how to sail her. He walked Dart around the upper deck, pointing out the furled sails and the ropes holding them in place just as the bell rang to indicate the change in shifts. Trying not to seem too eager, Haschel led them toward the main deck, but by the time he got there, Jade had already disappeared.

Snow fell around him, muffling the sounds of the world. He walked forward toward a tiny house that he didn't recognize, but before he reached it, the door opened, and a woman walked out.

"Claire!" he called, suddenly in sobs as he reached for her.

She stepped back, affronted by his forwardness, and threw dagger eyes at him.

"How dare you come back now," she warned. "After everything you said to me. After everything you did!"

"No, I've changed!" he insisted. "Can't you see I've changed?"

"Get out of my sight!" she quoted, his own voice resonating within hers.

Haschel woke with a jolt. Claire's eyes were imprinted on his eyelids, and he saw her even now as he fought to focus on the bed frame looming over him.

What time is it? he wondered.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, looking around. Albert slept soundly across from him, and Dart could be heard snoring above him. Even the oversized Kongol still slumbered away in his oversized bed in the corner.

Sighing, he closed his eyes as the dream rattled through his mind once more. They were on their way to Mille Seseau, the place where Claire had escaped to. What if he found her, and that dream became a reality?

He ran a hand over his face before standing and tiptoeing to the door. Opening it carefully, he walked as silently as possible up the stairs, trying not to wake the second shift crew that now slumbered peacefully in the belly of the ship. Reaching the dining hall, he found a sparse group of third shift workers who were putting off their bedtimes as long as they could, several of them playing cards. Haschel merely waved awkwardly to them and headed out the door onto the main deck.

The crisp morning air brushed across his face, chilling him slightly as he moved to the starboard deck and peered out at the dim light fighting to rise above the horizon. Intrigued, he found himself a barrel, which he rolled into the middle of the deck and set upright. Leaping up onto it, he sat with his legs crossed, facing the sun. Then he regulated his breathing, closed his eyes, and focused his mind.

The discomfort of the wood beneath him dissipated into his subconscious as he focused on other senses. They were moving faster today, he gathered, as the ship bounced slightly more than the day before and ocean spray occasionally grazed his face. The salty air was refreshing, but more than anything, he welcomed the warm sunlight as it finally crested the horizon. The rays beat on his face, warming them despite the chilly air, and suddenly the sounds of the crew faded into the background. He felt as if he were soaring high above the ship, then diving into the depths of the ocean before resurfacing once more. He felt his heartbeat in his chest, the steady and slow rhythm of his breaths, and could even sense the tiny jolts of electricity that shot through every part of his body. He held one at bay in his right arm, intrigued by the odd feeling that shot through three of his fingers immediately after. As he released the flow, the feeling left.

For some time, he meditated here, fighting to purge his mind of any wayward thoughts of his daughter. Eventually, he heard Kongol's heavy footsteps exit the dining hall, followed shortly after by Shana's light ones.

Sufficiently pulled from his reverie, Haschel tried to go back to that point of calm, but it was to no avail. Suddenly, everything around him was easily perceived, and a few minutes later, Shana approached and paused next to him, waiting to see if he was available for a conversation. He appreciated her courtesy.

"Good morning," he invited.

"Can we train again?" she asked without preamble.

He opened his eyes slowly. Her timing was uncanny. They hadn't trained together since before they'd left Bale, and here was the one day he had been forced to relive the worst training session of his life.

"Why now?" he pried without looking at her.

"I just… need something to do."

"So, you're bored?"

"… Sure."

He finally turned to her, but she was watching the water.

"You got something to prove?" he pushed, and her eyes snapped back to him.

"No," she protested, somewhat indignant. "It's just been a while, and I don't want to get rusty."

Sighing, he stood on the barrel and then flipped off, feet swinging over his head before landing squarely on the wood deck. Then he turned to her with his hands behind his back.

"Very well," he acquiesced. "Show me your stance."

"Why don't we just spar?" asked Shana.

"You said yourself it's been a while. Now show me your stance."

She huffed, then stepped toward him and held her arms out, hands balled into fists. Overall, her form was good and sure, but her arms were too far out before her.

He took a step forward and straightened his shoulders.

"Not bad," he said. "Now fix your feet."

She looked down, puzzled, then shifted her feet farther apart. Naturally, her arms retracted toward her slightly.

"Better. Now."

He dropped suddenly into a squat before spinning and striking at her ankles. He was impressed when she leapt nimbly over his leg and remained standing.

"Very good," he praised.

For several minutes, he put her through her paces, striking at her shoulder, arm, waist, head, waiting to see if she would allow him to land a hit. And for several minutes, she did not. He was pleased with himself, having taught Shana all this in the short time he'd had with her. Still, she was only as good as some of the children he'd trained. And her agility had been increased by her dragoon spirit. He wondered what would happen should he put in all his effort.

"Now," he said, separating his feet and leaning into his own stance, "see if you can strike me."

Her attempts were valiant but yielded nothing of substance. He was simply too quick for her. She would lunge forward, and he would take an easy step back. She would kick from the side, and he would easily catch the foot and ground her. Still, he was impressed with what she had retained over the past couple months, and he felt confident that she could take on anyone outside their own group – except maybe Lloyd. With shame, Haschel recalled how easily Lloyd had forced him to concede the match in the Hero Competition.

Then just as Haschel was preparing to end their sparring session, Shana spun and kicked at him. All her force was channeled into her foot, and Haschel was just barely able to raise his fist and catch the impact with his forearm. The blow would have landed on his neck, and the force left his bone tingling and bruised.

The air left his lungs as he recalled his final moments with Claire. She had used just this attack to accidentally kill her friend.

"Good job," he said distractedly, and Shana let her arms fall from their defensive position. "That's enough for today, I think."

"Look!" called Meru from somewhere behind him. "Whales!"

She was pointing out toward the bow of the ship, and Haschel welcomed the distraction as he and Shana meandered over toward her to see where she was pointing. Several crew members also joined them, and they ah'd appropriately as several massive whales could be seen dipping above and below the surface of the water about thirty yards from the ship. They blew columns of water into the air even as they drew near, and before long, they were all laughing as they were getting sprayed.

Spotting Jade nearby, Haschel skipped over and stood next to her as they watched from the railing.

"It's not every day you see a pod of whales, is it?" asked Haschel.

She shook her head. "No, it's not. It's always special whenever it happens."

"I thought you'd like it."

"What?"

"I put this together for you. My treat." Haschel grinned.

"That so?" asked Jade, grinning back.

"Anything to impress you," he said, turning toward her and leaning closer.

Her hazel eyes looked up into his, sparkling in the sunlight. "Anyone who could organize something like that might be someone worth considering."

He leaned into her, placing his mouth just below her ear as he said, "I am worth considering." Then after pressing his lips against her neck, he quickly trotted away, smiling as if he had just pulled a most excellent prank.

That evening, Haschel decided to watch the sunset from a perch above the ship. After a running start, he ran up the outer wall of the bridge and settled in on its little roof, this time aimed to face the port side where the sun would soon be casting orange and pink rays of light across the sky. He sat hugging his knees, and when the spectacle came, it did not disappoint. Sometimes, at moments like these, he wished that he were an artist who could capture such visions on canvas.

An hour after sunset, Rose's footsteps descended the ladder that led into the crow's nest, and she paused when she hit the roof of the bridge.

"Haschel," she said.

"Hi, Rose," he replied.

"Can I join you?"

He offered the spot next to him with a sweeping gesture, and she sat.

"What's up?" he asked.

There was a long pause.

"I've been wanting to talk to you," she began. "I need to… apologize."

"You?"

"I realize that we've had a strained relationship," she continued, ignoring him.

"I'm surprised that you define it as a relationship," he interrupted with a grin.

"Don't mock me."

"Sorry," he muttered. "You have to appreciate that I haven't flirted with you in a long time, though."

"Yes, I've noticed."

She paused, and he waited to see if she would continue. When she did not, he picked up the conversation instead.

"You don't really have anything to apologize for. I'm the one who should do that."

"I won't deny that, but I've been… rude… to you," she struggled to say.

"I just kind of figured that was a part of your personality at this point."

"Maybe it is. But despite everything I've thrown at you, you've been remarkably kind to me."

"Have you been drinking?"

Rose cast him an irritated glance.

"I'm sorry," he confessed. "Sometimes it's hard to have real conversations. I appreciate your apology, though I don't think I deserve it."

"You're a good dragoon," she said. "You fight well. And you care about everyone here. Those are all admirable things."

"If you knew the things I've done, you might not say stuff like that about me."

"I could say the same to you."

"No offense, Rose, but I've lived probably three of your lifetimes. That's a lot more room for mistakes."

She sighed and didn't respond for a moment.

"What's bothering you?" she asked.

"What?"

"You heard me. You're feeling guilty about something."

"You're not wrong," admitted Haschel. "I… had a dream about Claire last night."

"Your daughter?"

He nodded. "Gehrich said she went to Mille Seseau, so I guess she's been on my mind lately. In the dream, when I finally met her, she hated me and wanted me to leave. I guess… I'm worried that it will come true."

"I hated my father for a long time," she said, and Haschel turned to her in surprise. "But now, I'd give anything to have one more conversation with him. I'm sure she'll be happy to see you."

"You don't know what I said to her."

"You don't know what he did to me."

Haschel peered at her in the darkness. He wanted to press for details, but he supposed that forcing her to relive her past would be at least as painful as it would be for him. So instead, he just said, "Note taken."

For some time, they sat in silence, and Haschel appreciated that he had come so far with Rose. He'd been a fool in the beginning, but now he understood her better and was able to give her more space. That she had opened up as much as she had warmed his heart, icy though it remained at the pervasive thought of Claire.

Eventually, Rose left, and Haschel was left to his own thoughts.

He hated them.

So, with a quiet grunt, he sprung to his feet, determined to find Jade. She was an excellent distraction.

After asking a couple of the crewmembers who were hanging out in the dining hall, he learned that she had already gone to her quarters. Undeterred, Haschel sneaked down the stairs and over to the door that someone had described and rapped a knuckle on it.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes to brush away the image of a wrathful Claire just as the door opened, revealing the person he sought.

Jade grinned widely upon seeing him, though she didn't open the door any farther to allow him entrance.

"Hello, there," he said, smiling and leaning against the door frame.

"You're bold to come for me at this time of night," she smirked.

"Looks like it was the perfect time," he replied as he looked her up and down. She was wearing a green nightgown tied at her waist with a silky belt. A slit in the bottom revealed her knee as she leaned on one foot.

"You know I have roommates, right?"

"I can meet them, too, if you like. We can all be friends."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Not like that," he chuckled. "I only have eyes for one woman on this ship."

"Why so forceful today? I thought you'd wait until the end of the week to show up at my door."

His smile faltered for a moment; he knew why he was being forceful. He wanted to forget, to get his mind off his daughter. If he didn't, he was worried he would drown in his own sorrow.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concern spreading over her face.

"Ah," he stammered, frustrated that she had seen through him. "You know, it was just that kind of day."

"You want to talk about it?"

"I shouldn't bother you with my problems," he said, trying to get the conversation back on track. "Plus, I don't know if I'd want your roommates to hear about them anyway. I'll just… catch you tomorrow."

He turned to leave, but she touched his arm to stop him.

"The cargo hold is currently empty," she said. "Of people, anyway. There's a lot of cargo and horses down there. But… if you wanted to talk away from people…"

He cracked another smile, this one genuine, pleased as he was to see the kindness in her eyes. He supposed a conversation couldn't hurt.

Despite his lack of sleep, Haschel maintained a hearty smile as he ran up the stairs into the dining hall. For a minute, at least, thoughts of Claire were off somewhere else and not in the forefront of his mind.

Upon finding Dart and Albert eating breakfast, Haschel quickly joined them, eager to have some male conversation. He appreciated their ignoring his obvious state of mind while they talked, and for a while, they were able to just have a good time. It had been a while since they'd been able to relax.

For so long, even when they had time around campfires or in castles, there had always been a constant pressure of needing to do something. The next step had loomed over them with peerless anxiety. But now, they were beholden to the confines of travel. For another five days, they were free to relax and worry about nothing. It felt good to be able to have candid conversations with Dart, but even better at Haschel's first good chance to get to know Albert. While they had been traveling together for several months now, the king had usually been busy dealing with affairs of state or helping lead the group through the barrens. Now, Haschel was able to see him as he was.

Initially, Haschel had thought the king's demeanor to be overbearing and condescending, but now, he was able to see Albert as simply a person. A very intelligent person, and a person not gifted with a commoner's social graces, but a person nonetheless. He grew animated and excited to tell them about this new book series he had been reading, and the light of love glinted in his eyes whenever someone mentioned Emille.

For a moment, Haschel envied Albert. His life seemed to be going the way he had always dreamed, and Haschel's cynicism almost wanted it to be swept away from his grasp. But he mentally scolded himself. He should be happy for Albert's successes. And besides, the man had gone through more than his fair share of trauma. His parents had both died at a young age, and he'd had the responsibility of an entire kingdom thrust on his shoulders while he was no more than a child. Maybe it was about time that he found some happiness.

An hour or two later, the group moved to the deck, Albert suggesting it for the "fresh air." The king seemed invigorated as soon as the ocean breeze hit his face, and they enjoyed each other's company for a while, even through lunch, until it was interrupted by Meru screaming across the deck.

Once Meru stole Dart away, Albert bid Haschel farewell, muttering something about wanting to finish his book, and Haschel was left to his own mind for a while. Unbidden, thoughts of Claire came rushing back to him.

Maybe he didn't really want to go to Mille Seseau after all.

When the storms came flooding across the ocean that evening, Haschel stayed outside as long as he could before the rain hit. Lightning flashed across the ocean, and his skin tingled to see it. There, out of his reach, was electricity that was begging to be snatched and controlled.

Still, he wasn't so sure that he could redirect a lightning bolt in this state. It was difficult enough to generate a little static electricity on his whims. But as he remembered his transformation when fighting the virage, he suddenly longed for the power and the opportunity to try such a daring feat.

The clouds and their charged air raced toward him, and he sensed the potential of the atmosphere. He glanced around to try to find Albert to see if he was equally excited, but the king was nowhere to be found. Hair rose on the back of his neck, and his eyes darted to the starboard bow right before the lightning struck the surface of the water. Holding out his hand, he called the charged air to him and watched as tiny jolts of electricity leapt between his fingers. One day, he would have to sit outside through a thunderstorm just to experience it.

Footsteps came up behind him, and he turned to see Jade approaching.

"Most impressive," she mused, watching the electricity in his hand. Wind whipped about her, threatening to remove her cap, but it remarkably stayed in place.

"I can do a lot with my hands," smirked Haschel, dismissing the magic and placing his hands on her hips as she drew near.

"I'm aware," she said as she leaned up to kiss him.

"And what brings a pretty commander like yourself to see me at this hour?"

"Actually, a mote of business," she replied even as she placed her arms around his neck. "A couple of the guys were hoping to spend some time indoors and away from the storm. The commodore approved it, so we're hosting a game night for you all in the dining hall this evening. I came to invite you personally."

"How kind of you." He kissed her.

"Of course, we could delay our appearance just a little longer," she replied.

"That's a great idea," he grinned.

A half hour later, Haschel and Jade waltzed into the dining hall where a dozen or so sailors were setting out decks of cards across the tables. Dice made an appearance at some, and chips for poker were placed on a table far to the left.

"It's been a good while since I've gotten to destroy Dart at some cards!" said Haschel, rubbing his hands together in excitement. "I'm going to go grab him really fast and make him join!"

"Yo, Haschel!" called Meru as she trotted up behind him. "You gonna play?"

"Meru, I wouldn't miss it," he said seriously. "Where's Dart? I need to beat him again."

"I think he went to bed because he's boring and didn't want to hang out with me anymore."

"I can't imagine why."

Meru pouted and punched him lightly on the arm. "I am a delight," she protested.

"But can you hold your own in a game of poker?" challenged Haschel.

She nodded firmly. "You betcha! I have a great poker face."

Laughing heartily, Haschel turned and waved. "Set us up a table! I'll be right back."

"Just you wait!" called Meru after him. "I'll beat all of you!"

For several hours, they played. They spent several rounds teaching Kongol how to play different card games, and much to Haschel's frustration, Kongol beat them all squarely in three different games. At first, Haschel claimed beginner's luck, but after the second victory, it became clear that somehow Kongol had a knack for this sort of thing. So instead, Haschel turned his focus to Meru. She was much easier to overcome, and this time it was she who became inordinately frustrated at her continual losses.

At one point, Haschel challenged Dart to a one-on-one match, and they battled it out for a long while, reminding Haschel of the first time they had ever met, far to the east of Serdio. Haschel had beaten Dart easily at this game back then, but now it had become more of a challenge. Still, he managed to win, and it was with a smug smile that he moved on to a different game.

Drinks went around the room more than once, and by the end of the night, Haschel had a warm and fuzzy feeling in his belly. With a content heart, he settled into bed, passing into slumber almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He yelped as he woke in the middle of the night, jolted to consciousness by a crash that jerked the entire ship awake.

Author Note: You may have noticed, but I've been having a few more hints dropping about Rose's past, even things not ever referenced in the game. As an explanation, I'd like to say that I have an entire headcanon of Rose's origin story that I will (hopefully) one day put into words like this one. In fact, this headcanon has been shaping my writing of Rose for a long, long time, and it will continue to do so. Maybe I'll add some more detail into this fan fiction later; we'll see!