An hour after their tour of the ship, Albert sat comfortably in the library, feet up on the couch with him, a book resting on his knees. Being surrounded by books had always been something to bring him comfort, and now it was something he really needed. He had only spent three days with Emille, but the thought of her refused to leave him alone; this book offered him an escape from the reality that plagued him. Time spent apart from his beloved was nearly agony.

Simultaneously, he felt foolish to be so upset at their distance. They had only spent three days together. In meeting her, he had devolved from a logical being to the equivalent of a puppy so anxious to be away from its owner that he felt like destroying everything nearby.

He had expressed some of these concerns to Dart along the way to Donau, explaining his frustration with his own obsession, but Dart had little wisdom to offer.

"That's the way it works," he'd said. "Falling in love takes all your focus."

With a sigh, Albert ran a hand over his face. He had read the last two paragraphs three times over and not understood a single word. The romantic advice that could be offered by his friends was abysmal at best. As far as he knew, none of them had experienced a happy, healthy relationship except for Haschel, who now spent his nights in multiple beds across Endiness. Whatever his mindset, Albert did not want to become such a man should his future with Emille end in such grief.

Placing a ribbon in the book, he set it on the couch next to him and placed his feet on the floor. He was almost startled to see Nova standing there in the door, watching him with humorously wide eyes. Her feet were spread apart as if she were prepared to fight him.

"Hello," chuckled Albert.

She took his greeting as invitation and tapped happily into the room, coming straight to him and then sniffing at his trousers. She pushed her nose into his knee, and he smiled to watch her work.

"I have been told that you can smell far better than we can," he said. "What can you determine of me now?"

Moving down to his bare feet, she continued to sniff at him vigorously, and he had to fight against flinching away as her wet nose brushed his toes and tickled him. When she had finally had her fill of sniffs, she lifted her head before placing her chin on his knee and looking up at him with wide eyes. He petted her head, and her tail wagged vigorously before she leapt onto the couch, knocked off his book, and curled up next to him. Grinning, he settled back into the couch and rubbed behind her ears. A few minutes later, she was asleep.

"Morning naptime has arrived," he said. Then very slowly, he retrieved his book and opened it once more. "Perhaps I should get a dog," he mused.

And for the next couple hours, he read happily with Nova sleeping next to him.

When several loud thumps sounded from the deck, Nova jerked awake and barked, causing Albert to jump. She then sprinted toward the deck, her constant barks following her until they were as distant as whatever had fallen over. A minute or so later, the barking dissipated, and Albert heard loud scrapes and thumps as someone replaced the objects.

Sufficiently distracted, thoughts of Emille came back to him, and he sighed again.

Is love the blessing I had thought? he considered. Or is it somehow a curse as well?

His stomach began to rumble, and he fought to return to his novel. He was already halfway through it, but even in the heat of the rising action, he could not refocus himself.

"Perhaps I need social stimulation," he said aloud to the empty room.

He strode out of the library into the break area, where half a dozen sailors laughed and played cards. They acknowledged him as he passed by, and he waved to them before leaving to enter the dining hall. At least thirty sailors were spread across this space, waiting for lunch to be served, but Albert's eye drifted to the kitchen, where the chefs could be seen working furiously to get everything ready.

Smiling, he recalled many days when he would visit the kitchens in Indels Castle and help prepare meals. Not only did the staff appreciate the help, but it was always thrilling when the captains learned that their dish had been made by the king. Having decided, Albert stepped through the kitchen door, and the cooks turned to him in surprise. They stopped immediately, each doffing their cap and bowing low.

"No, please," pleaded Albert. "As you were."

One of them rushed over as the others exchanged glances and went back to their work.

"Your Majesty!" exclaimed the chef. The pin on his coat marked him with authority. "Are you needing something to eat now? We are almost done preparing the lunch."

"No, not at all. I was actually hoping to help."

"Far be it from me! I could not let you do such a thing!"

Albert smiled. "Cooking is a great joy of mine. Please allow me to aid you in this most frantic time. I am astounding that four cooks can prepare so well for so many."

"Uh, five… usually," corrected the chef, tapping his head awkwardly. "One of ours is out with a cold today. And one is in Donau on sabbatical; he just had a child. So, I guess it's usually six."

"Then there must be something for me to do! Where would you have me?"

"The one who is out is the one who usually chops the vegetables. Is that something that would be to your liking? That would help us most, I think."

"I would be honored to have such a job," beamed Albert.

And for the next half hour, that is what Albert did. With a practiced hand, he chopped onions, diced tomatoes, and peeled carrots. The rhythm of it was soothing to him, and for a while, he became lost in the repetitive motions. Every now and then, one of the other cooks would sweep away an array of his prepared foods and add them to an oversized sizzling pan or a massive pot of soup. When the head chef began to organize the meal on the buffet, Albert switched over to cleaning up his new workstation, and thereafter, he preoccupied himself with washing the crew's discarded dishes. An hour later, when the intensity of lunchtime dissipated, the other cooks were able to take some time to relax, and conversations were struck.

Each of them was amazed that Albert would be willing to work with them, and he explained his penchant for helping his own kitchen staff in Bale. After a time, each of them grew more relaxed, abandoning their overt reverence for more casual discussion.

He had always loved coming to this point with his constituents. Often, he would never reach this level of ease with them, but whenever he did, Albert relished getting to learn more about their individualities. He felt that often, royalty would imagine their people as a mass of irritated rabble, but he found that learning more about them helped remind him that they are only people. Each person in Serdio had a life, a family, a history, a personality, a name. They were no strangers to frustration and struggle. Focusing on that had always kept him grounded.

Once the end of lunchtime had arrived, the cooks bade him farewell, and he retreated once more to the library, his soul fulfilled having interacted with new people. There, he continued his fictional tale of heroism and self-sacrifice, delving into the pages that transported him into a far-off world where none of the problems were his own.

The introduction of an aloof character reminded him of Rose, and he smiled. Then he recalled Rose's minor outburst in the Twin Castle and the reasons for it.

As his mind was dragged back to his own reality, he frowned and turned his eyes away from the pages of the book, considering Rose's situation. Lenus had mentioned something of love to Rose, though he failed to recall the exact phrasing. He had tried to give her a space to process that pain externally, but she had refused it. Should he have pushed harder or not at all?

Perhaps Haschel is not the only one shaped by love, he considered.

If Rose had loved, she had since lost it. The thought churned his heart in a way he did not expect, and without invitation, thoughts of Emille being ripped from him sent his mind into a broken frenzy.

"What a fool I am!" he exclaimed to the shelves of books. "I had been so focused on my own heart that I have neglected those of my friends."

Placing his bookmark back in the book, he snapped it shut and leapt to his feet, determined to find Rose and rectify this most detestable error of self-centeredness.

The next morning, Albert rose early and settled into the library, intending to focus his mind for the task of writing out his feelings for Emille in a letter that he would send to her as soon as they arrived in Mille Seseau. His practice for this task was journaling, refreshing his mind about the three days they had spent together in the Twin Castle.

And so he wrote:

The 1st of October of the year 4156, Third Era. Albert, son of Carlo, King of Serdio.

My heart wrestles with the past, longing for it to be my present and my future. My mind is consumed of thoughts of the one who holds my heart, my soul, in her own. A mere week ago, I was in her presence. Her breath brushed my neck as we embraced in our mutual melancholy at my parting. For three days, I had spent as much time with her as possible, though most of it before dignitaries and citizens, and yet it feels as though no time will ever be enough. Each night, I fell asleep eagerly, anticipating my waking moments and the chance to see her smile again.

Every evening, we met on our balcony to speak with more informal tones, and every evening, we parted ways with no more intimacy than a smile. With her father incapacitated, I must wait to make my intentions formally announced. Every day brings me closer to that reality, and it is something that I covet with the utmost sincerity and longing. The chance to bear my heart to someone like Emille is a thing some men spend their lifetimes wishing for, and now I am undone by the grace afforded me in this venture, if only I can make it back to her.

The weight of our task has not eluded me. Our enemy carries great power, even to end the life of a dragoon. Having experienced the inner dread of just such an event twice over, I am painfully aware of the chances of my return to her. Continually, I pray that we may be reunited.

Hers is the smile that lifts my desecrated soul.
Hers are the eyes that lay bare my untold insecurities.
Hers are the lips that demand my focused attention.
Hers is the heart that receives my enduring love.

With his cheeks sufficiently flushed by his expression, he retrieved a piece of parchment and began to follow Rose's advice. Within his letter, he confessed to Emille his deep emotions toward her and his direct intentions, however forward they might appear, to one day marry her if she and her father would allow. Though his projections might seem presumptuous to some, he knew that this was the way of royals; in fact, it was almost a surprise that they had not been pledged to each other as infants. His father had told him of many kings who were not allowed the luxury of choosing their own mates.

Albert was more than happy to be allowed that decision.

With a joyous heart, he folded the parchment carefully, as he would have the first letter that he had sent all those years ago, and encased it safely within an envelope. Though he had no wax with which to seal it, he felt confident that he could find some at their destination before the message was shipped away.

Several hours later, his mind now steeped in the sequel to yesterday's novel, he jumped as someone let out a short squeal in the adjacent break room that was followed by a loud thump. Albert set down his book before rushing over to see what had happened, and he opened the door to see Meru on the floor and a chair toppled over next to her.

"Ow," she said, her voice muffled as she spoke into the carpet.

"Meru, what happened?" asked Albert as he stepped over to help her stand.

He pulled her to her feet, and she looked around and rubbed the side of her head.

"I was trying to see if I could balance a chair on its back legs," she explained.

"I see," chuckled Albert. He picked up the fallen chair and placed it back under the table.

"You should try!" she exclaimed.

"Standing… on the chair?"

"Yeah! What other king can say that they balanced a chair on its back legs?"

"None, I would presume."

"So be the first! Do it!" she insisted.

Albert hesitated with a puzzled expression. "Why is this something you desire?" he asked.

She came up to him and placed both hands on his shoulders, peering earnestly into his eyes.

"I am bored," she said as seriously as possible. "I thought this ship would entertain me for a whole week, but it only lasted like… eight hours."

"So, you resorted to leaning off the backs of chairs?"

She shrugged and fell into the chair, crossing her arms and staring off behind him. "Why not? It would be cool if I could do it."

"Did you not just demonstrate why not?" He sat across from her.

"What are you getting at here, Al?" She leaned forward, placed her elbows on the table, interlocked her fingers, and eyed him intensely. "Why do you care about this so much all of a sudden?"

He paused. "We are friends, are we not?"

"Dude, we've known each other for, like, a month now."

"Do I have permission to speak freely then?"

"Do you even need permission? You're a king."

"Kings do not have free reign of minds and hearts."

She sighed. "What do you want to know?"

"You are a puzzle to me. I believe that you are intuitive, perceptive, and intelligent."

"And pretty," she winked.

"Yes, of course," he dismissed. "But you overshadow these qualities with a need to be boisterous and impulsive."

"Your point?"

He paused again. Upsetting Meru was not his goal, but he worried that he was nearing that very outcome.

"Why do you travel with us?" he asked.

Expecting a flippant answer, Albert was pleasantly surprised when Meru took a deep breath and instead gave a serious one.

"I told you all a long time ago that I wanted to help you, and that I could do something to help. I may not know exactly what it is, but I still feel like it's true. One day, it'll come true, and I'll say, 'I told you so.'"

"So, it is not just for adventure? For fun?"

"Oh, that's like almost half of the reason," laughed Meru, but seeing Albert's reaction, she frowned again. "No, it's not for adventure. I'm expecting a lot of it! Don't get me wrong. This is by far the most fun I've had in like… years. But there's a reason that I'm with you, even if I don't completely understand what it is."

Albert nodded slowly, searching Meru's eyes and finding the sincerity that he had hoped was there. He smiled.

"Very well," he said.

"Why are you suddenly interrogating me like this? I thought we had an understanding." She motioned between them dramatically, as if they had agreed to some underhanded pact.

"Sometimes…" Now Albert leaned forward, folding his hands before him and watching Meru closely. While she was sincere, she was also still a mystery. Behind all her bubbly exterior, she harbored something that she did not want the others to know. Her eyes were a shade of blue like the ocean during a thunderstorm, but the storm was hidden deep within. What was she going through? What was she hiding? And why was her hair that platinum color?

He leaned back and cocked his head. "Sometimes, I worry that some of us are here for the wrong reasons. Our mission is an important one. As Dart has previously articulated, there is at least a possibility that the fate of the world now rests on our shoulders. Should the winglies return and take over the human population as they did eleven thousand years ago, all that we know and love will be gone. To lose sight of that, or worse, to become lackadaisical in the face of it, would be detriment beyond calculation."

Meru pouted and crossed her arms. "You're such a downer sometimes."

"And yet, I believe that I speak truth."

She sighed. "I don't forget what we're doing here," she finally said. "The importance hasn't escaped me. I just… get bored easily."

"I am glad to hear it. That you remember our task, that is. As for your boredom, you may find some stimulation in the novels that are in the other room. Should you ask, I could recommend several that would pique your interest."

Meru let out a bark of laughter. "No, thanks! Sitting in the same spot for hours on end sounds like torture, if I'm honest."

With a chuckle, Albert nodded and said, "Very well."

"Now that we have that settled," said Meru as she stood, "I'm out. See ya later!"

She moved toward the door, then turned and watched him once more, her eyes suddenly focused and severe.

"Albert, do you trust me?" she asked.

Her serious tone and address caught him off guard. For a fleeting moment, he considered his answer. She was an unknown, a variable, an unexplainable mystery. And yet, his answer was clear.

"Yes," he replied.

She smiled in response.

"Can I ask you one question, though?" he added just as she was about to leave.

"Sure thing, king!"

"Why is your hair silver?"

She leaned in and whispered, "I'm secretly a thousand years old." Then after a laugh, she straightened and corrected. "I dyed it to match my dancer's outfit. Haven't you noticed?" She twirled, and Albert very faintly recalled the blue and silver on her dress the day they had met her in Donau. Then she kicked her foot into the air behind her, winked and waved, and scampered out the door.

Albert chuckled softly to himself. A mystery? Yes. A shadowy wingly with a desire to conquer the human world? Most definitely not.

The next morning, Albert decided that he should spend time with the others rather than being holed up in the library all day. Still, he arose earlier than they did and took his journal to the deck to watch the late part of the sunrise over the ocean's horizon. With a melancholic smile, he recalled watching the sunset with Emille from their balcony, and his heart swelled at the thought of his return to her.

Still, he knew that he might not see her for a long, long time yet.

For a time, as the sun beat against his face and the ocean breeze blew his hair about his shoulders, he considered what to write in his journal before he began his day. In a way, he felt that there was no need to write anything; all had been said already. His heart pounded for Emille, but his duty tore him farther away from her every second.

Would it always be like this?

He could not say. All he knew was that his destiny, should fate spare his life, lay with the princess of Tiberoa.

With a sigh, he sat on the deck, legs crossed before him as he opened his journal and began to write.

Two distant horizons call my heart,
As the waves dash against the prow of fate.
To each, a destination plays its part,
And the love of mine to never sate.

One shore, a conquest, a foe to vanquish,
An enemy cruel destiny has made.
On the other side lies my true anguish-
The love I miss, and will never fade.

I know not whether my quest will prevail
Against the foe that draws me away,
And while painful duty has called me to sail,
The waves that bear my hope will allay.

And while I wish the winds subside,
For they are what tears me in twain,
I boldly travel against the eventide
In the hope to see my sweet love again.

Tears fell and stained the paper even as he wrote, overcome with such emotion and torment that he had never known. Truly, love was something indeterminate and impossible to understand. While it filled him with such joy that was without measure, it also brought him lower than he had thought possible. His heart grieved, and yet he rejoiced. Such a juxtaposition was beyond his understanding.

By the time his heart had bled its pain through pen, his stomach announced the time for breakfast. After arriving at the dining hall, he was shortly joined by Dart and then Haschel only a few minutes later. Pleased by the distraction, he happily joined in their conversation, though Emille was forever in his thoughts. He understood that speaking of her as often as he thought of her would drive his companions to madness, and so he held his feelings for his notebook, still held fast in his hand as he left the hall and walked the decks with his friends. Haschel seemed in better spirits today, but neither Dart nor Albert pressed to find out why. In truth, Albert had surmised the answer, but he avoided contemplating it too hard.

Just before noon, they made their way back to the dining hall and had lunch together. Conversation flowed, and Albert felt fulfilled to be spending such time with his friends. However, after a half hour, Dart withdrew significantly when Shana walked into the room. Albert and Haschel exchanged glances, and the king debated on whether to press Dart about his timid response. In the end, Haschel did it for him.

"What happened between you and Shana?" he asked without tact.

"Nothing," dismissed Dart.

"Clearly, it was something," insisted Haschel.

"It would be good to talk about it," encouraged Albert.

Dart sighed and stabbed a potato with his fork before dropping his hands helplessly to his lap.

"She doesn't want me anymore," he whispered.

"What did she say, exactly?" asked Haschel with narrowed eyes.

"After this is all said and done, she's leaving," explained Dart. "She said she doesn't want to wait on me anymore."

"Honestly, I'm surprised," said Haschel, leaning back and crossing his arms. "I was afraid she'd trail around you forever."

"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded Dart.

"I know that sounds bad, but all I meant was that it's not healthy to just wait around for someone to love you back. She's doing what she thinks is right for her."

"But…"

"What would you want her to do?" asked Albert. "You have been less than decisive through all this."

"I know…" sighed Dart, hiding his face in his hands.

"You can't just expect someone to wait for you," said Haschel.

"I know!"

Dart sighed again.

"I just… needed her to wait a little longer."

"What exactly is it that you needed to happen?" prodded Albert. "What would have made you ready?"

Dart shook his head. "I don't know. I guess I just wanted to prove that I could deserve someone like her."

"You do," said Haschel. "Of course you do. How do you not see that?"

"I…" Dart struggled to find sufficient wording and looked to Albert as if searching for aid.

Albert nodded. "He is right."

"Isn't it too late, though?" asked Dart in a small voice.

"I doubt it," said Haschel. "But it's not something I can say for sure. Time will tell. If you two are supposed to be together, just be ready to do the right thing when the opportunity presents itself."

"What's the 'right' thing? I don't know what she wants from me."

"Did she say anything about it?"

Dart paused and thought, though his face showed distaste in reliving his previous encounter. Eventually, he said, "She wants me to be honest with her, support her. And make decisions."

Albert recalled the month or so after Lavitz's death and how they had all suffered together. Shana had demonstrated her strength when she had accompanied Albert to speak with Lavitz's mother, and Dart had let them walk through that trauma alone. Dart, lost in his own grief, had not been there when they needed him.

At the time, the king had had a support system of his own, with Minister Noish and others in the castle bolstering him whenever needed. He had had a purpose and goal beyond his own mind: to unify Serdio and prepare it for his extended leave. Shana had been trapped in her own mind, with no goal but to survive until she could breathe again. Albert, Haschel, and Rose had done their best to be present for her, but in the end, what she had needed was Dart.

The regret of those decisions shone perfectly in Dart's eyes in this moment on board the Queen Fury. His guilt over the explosion had been evident since the day it had happened, but now, no doubt, he felt that all hope was lost.

"I may be making assumptions as I say this," said Albert slowly. "But I believe that what Shana really wants from you is quite simply you. Who you are. Your heart. She loves to speak to others about their hopes and dreams, their aspirations, their emotions. But she has never been pushy or forceful in trying to retrieve these things. Perhaps all she needs is to know how you feel."

"But respect her boundaries," added Haschel. "Don't unload on her if she doesn't want you to."

"How do I know if she wants me to?" asked Dart, eyes wide like a child learning about their favorite school topic.

"She might actually ask," considered Haschel. "But beyond that, you can always tell when a woman wants to talk, if you pay attention."

Dart sighed.

"Just be willing to be patient," said Albert. "She has waited this long for you; now it is your turn to wait for her."

"And if she says no for good," interrupted Haschel, "you have to let the whole thing go and move on. You have to respect the boundaries that she lays out for you."

"What is this sudden romantic wisdom?" asked Dart, smirking. "Respect? Boundaries? I didn't think you knew what those words meant."

"I know how to treat a woman right!" said Haschel indignantly.

"And where were you last night?" asked Albert, peering at him critically.

"Hey, it's called 'boundaries.' Maybe learn to recognize and respect mine."

When Meru came to whisk Dart away on her adventure, Albert chuckled as they left. Despite his best efforts in ignoring it, the desire to return to his novel repeatedly tugged on him, and he finally gave in, bidding Haschel farewell in favor of the library. However, upon arrival, he found several boisterous and smelly sailors talking, and he fought to disguise his crinkled nose as he grabbed his book and promptly escaped back to the fresh air on the main deck. Satisfied with this turn of events, he settled into a chair and began to read anew.

Only an hour later, he had finished the book, the second in his series, and traipsed back down to the library to retrieve the third. Thankfully, the sailors were gone, though the stink of body odor remained. Upon finding his desired book, he debated on whether to leave, and in the end, he summoned a breeze from the deck, winding though the path was to reach him, and aired out the room. Satisfied with the smell of books and ocean breeze, he settled in once more to read.

He stayed there, perfectly content, until a din from the dining hall gathered his attention, and he stood to discover what transpired. A clap of thunder rang from outside as Albert reached his destination, and he almost laughed to realize that he had missed the onset of a storm. Reaching out with his mind, he felt the turbulence of the atmosphere above him, and he knew that he would be more than capable of predicting lightning strikes if he were so inclined. However, he was much more intrigued with the sight before him.

The dining hall was filled almost completely with crew and passenger alike, each of the tables alight with the joy of interaction. A hundred decks of cards were scattered about, and various games were being played. Even as he watched, Albert noticed Haschel scamper over to a table with Meru and Kongol, and Dart emerged from the stairwell shortly after. With a grin, Albert ran over to join them, and they spent an evening in uplifted spirits, despite the wind and rain that beat upon the ship.

With a happy heart, Albert slept that night. Even his dreams were filled with pleasant things.

But his joy was replaced by fear when a tremendous crash forced him awake.

Author Note: Thank you for taking the time to read through all these; it has been a genuine joy to write them. I couldn't leave this chapter behind without tipping my hat to my brother, who wrote Albert's poem about Emille. I made a request, and boy, did he deliver! Masterful work befitting a king.