The small boat coasted to a slow bump, the old man from one month before, Mo, was piloting the boat.
"Sorry about costing you the fuel," Aster said, holding Conduit in a cloth.
The old man let out a slight cough and reassured, "it's okay, son. Try to focus on living your best life, okay?"
"I'll try," Aster spoke, "you too, Mo, thank you for the ride." Mo lowered a piece of plywood for Aster to wheel off the boat from.
"No problem," Mo remarked, starting the board's motor up again and boating away, leaving Aster on a cloudy dock. The moor was soundless and only had a small fishing hut and a dirt road to the town that was called Charlotte. As Aster slowly wheeled toward town, he often came close to falling in the nearby ditch, as he was still new to life without his legs.
Eventually, after an hour, Aster's wheelchair met the smooth cobblestone paths of Charlotte. Cottages and stores lined the streets, people carrying food and wood passed Aster by, even the shortest people were giants to him. He ultimately turned and wheeled away from town. A sizable brick house sat next to the cliff that overlooked the coast. It was empty and flat inside, with a cobweb in the corner of the kitchen. The oven and fridge greeted Aster with a quiet stare. He set Conduit on the kitchen table and moved to his old bedroom, where he set himself down onto his bed and rested his exhausted mind.
However, a knock at the door disturbed his respite, he clambered into his wheelchair and went through the unlit house towards the house. He opened it and it took a second for his eyes to adjust to the sudden light.
"Enzo?" He gasped, reaching for Conduit.
"Hey hey hey! I'm fine now," he alerted, an innocent smile peaked across his face. Aster kept within reaching distance of his sword.
"What are you doing here?" Aster interrogated, his voice strained with animosity and bad memories.
Enzo rubbed the back of his head and confessed, "I'm here—to apologize, for stabbing you with that pocket knife when we were kids, I could've killed you."
"Hm? Okay—it's fine, I don't care about that anymore," Aster curtly stated as he began to close the door.
Enzo stuck his foot in between the door and asked, "could I at least get you coffee? Something just to say sorry? This has been eating at me for the last seven years."
Aster hesitated for a second before saying, "fine."
Before he knew it, he was in a large cafe in the middle of Charlotte, which had a view of the ocean. The scent of ocean-side coffee filled the air, which blended well with the soft piano music playing in the store. He had ordered a double espresso and Enzo had a Frappuccino.
"Do you still live here, Enzo?" Aster asked, looking at the whipped cream on his drink.
"Yes and no, I've actually become a sailer, so the sea is my home," Enzo stated, "what about you Aster?"
Aster store down at his drink, stating, "I tried making it on the mainland, did you hear about a raid or something on the Harbor?"
"Yeah the news just came here yesterday, what happened?"
"That's how I lost my legs, a woman that was training me paid for my hospital bills—but she asked me to go home, so here I am."
Trying to lighten the situation, Enzo said, "remember when we were kids, and I thought I was a hotshot?"
Smirking a little, Aster said, "how could I not?"
"Well that's the old me, and the old me is dead!"
Aster began to zone out, thinking, "my old self..."
Enzo interrupted his thoughts, stating, "I see you haven't changed a bit! You're still the quiet kid I know!"
"I guess so," Aster said with solemn, his eyes grew tired. "Thanks for the coffee, Enzo, but I should really be getting back home."