Gloom pervaded the ship, its occupants weighed down by a shared sorrow so deep that words seemed an inadequate means of expression. Aboard the Blue Oyster, the aftermath of the battle left all in a state of mourning. Two days slipped by before Xian determined that they could take the wounded Humpter aboard.
In the meantime, Dylan oversaw the transportation of the fallen knights' remains to an Illinthia warship that had fortuitously docked on the final day of their departure. Arthur Illiasson, the vessel's captain, urged Knight Branagh to reconsider his plan to continue on, but Dylan's rage was uncontainable. He refused to set foot on his homeland's soil without first exacting vengeance for his fallen comrades, as he had repeatedly vowed.
He penned letters to his father and the families of his fallen compatriots, entrusting them to Captain Illiasson for safekeeping and delivery. The naval officer, his heart aching for the young knight's loss, offered Dylan a man to aid him in his quest for revenge. But Dylan was single-minded in his resolve, unwilling to accept the aid of others in his personal vendetta, even though it may have been the wiser choice.
For Dylan, this was no longer a matter of strategy, but one of honor and duty to his fallen brethren. He remained steadfast in his vow to exact retribution, swearing an oath to avenge his fallen comrades.
As the sun began its descent, casting a warm orange glow across the sky, the survivors of the brutal fight at the Wasted Inn returned to the Blue Oyster. With heavy hearts and a sense of duty, they assembled on the ship's deck to pay tribute to the five fallen knights.
Candles flickered in the gentle sea breeze, casting shadows across the deck, as Xian's intricately designed wish lanterns stood at the ready. Chalices and swords were raised in honor of the brave soldiers who had given their lives in battle.
Captain Barbarossa lifted his glass and began the solemn proceedings. "We gather here today to honor the memory of the great knights, Marten Dahlen, Illda Willeburg, Marter Corelson, and Eric Dahle Windborn, who valiantly fought and fell three nights ago," he intoned.
Xian continued, her voice soft and mournful. "Death is not the end for an honorable knight. To die in battle is to keep their noblest oath, and they shall be forever remembered."
Paliborn added his voice to the somber proceedings. "It was a great privilege to know and travel with these brave knights. May their memory live on through us and inspire us to be as honorable and brave as they were."
Knight Branagh, his voice heavy with grief and determination, raised his sword to the heavens. "May the light of Great Orion illuminate your path, brothers. We shall remember you always. We live for our honor, and we die for the free people. It is your right to reach the Divine Light, and I shall vow to follow you there."
All raised their goblets and swords, shouting in unison, "This is our farewell to you. May the Great Orion accept your soul."
The crew added their own farewell, invoking the name of the Maia Piri, Mistress of the Eternal Sea, to wash the knights' souls with waves.
As the sun slipped below the horizon, candles were placed in the wishing lanterns, and they were released into the night sky. Xian and Arvedas played a sailor's song on their traditional instruments, the pika and bamboo cane panflute, respectively, their mournful melody carrying over the waves.
The lanterns drifted off into the night, carried by the gentle sea breeze, as the survivors of the battle at the Wasted Inn stood in quiet reflection, paying their final respects to their fallen comrades.
In the summer night's breath, I once again take flight,
My defiant spirit, restless and without respite,
Dreams half-finished tumble like a waterfall,
Body and soul numb, heedless to the call.
Deep within, peonies blossom without joy or light,
Hyacinths of thought plunge into an endless night,
Tomorrow's promise fades into the Sea of Gallows,
With no time to waste, no time to wallow.
Lost in the Sea of Yesterdays, adrift and forlorn,
It's time to raise the anchor and set sail, reborn,
Poison courses through my veins,
Oh, my lady, hear my heart's refrains!
Death, certain and swift, looms on the horizon,
As dawn breaks and waves toss with abandon,
At the helm of time, I face my fate,
With no tomorrow, only yesterday to contemplate.
Knowing my end is near, let me drink one final toast,
Oh, eternal dame, grant me a final grandiose boast.
As the funeral came to a close, they convened in the captain's quarters. Dylan was notably absent; still deep in mourning.
"Your recklessness has cost us dearly, halfling!" Captain Barb bellowed, his voice thick with anger.
Xian quickly retorted, "Pal could not have known. None of us could have predicted the danger posed by those two elves."
The captain's sarcastic tone rang out, "What now? We're left with one knight, a mage, an archer, and a halfling. What use are we?"
"We must focus on what we do know," Paliborn interjected calmly. "Their leader, the so-called Bishop, arrived with a band of orc-ogres. We've taken care of them, but he clearly had a specific mission in the West and was ready for a fight. He will not strike unprepared."
"And?" the captain prodded impatiently.
"We believe his next target is Ogreport. We'll close the gap between us and wait for the right opportunity," Paliborn stated confidently.
"Is that all?" the captain asked.
"For now, yes," Paliborn replied. Indeed, he felt guilty for the fate of three knights but he hid his pain to stay decisive on his path to save Allendra.
A week later, the Blue Oyster sailed closer to the towering Ogre Mountains. Despite the somber circumstances, the crew's morale had slightly lifted. Humpter's recovery had been nothing short of miraculous, as he was now seen flashing his smile on the deck, even participating in the lively dice and card games with Pal. Yet every time, the Halfling lost, leaving everyone else in high spirits.
During one such game, Captain Barb summoned Paliborn, hoping to plot a safe course through the mountains. "I suggest we cross the mountains from afar, to avoid being noticed," the captain advised.
Paliborn, however, had a different idea. "No, Barb. If they are there, I want them to know about us. We will challenge them," he objected, flashing a wry grin.
"Why, Pal?" the captain inquired.
"Because they are afraid of us. If they weren't, they would have set a trap and attacked us already. Fear can drive them to make mistakes. Besides, I've heard that the Ogres like to throw orcs at anyone who approaches their shores. I want to see that with my own eyes," Paliborn replied confidently.
The captain, fatigued by Paliborn's antics, sighed and simply said, "See with your own eyes, then."
On a cloudy afternoon, the ship sailed closer to the formidable mountains. The once-violent sea had calmed, allowing them to see the dark gray rocky hills that jutted out of the water. Over the years, the relentless pounding of the waves had reduced them to almost nothing, with no vegetation or signs of life visible on the slopes. The countless caves at sea level ranged from large enough to fit a colossal ship to small rabbit holes. From the burrows above, the crew could hear the shouts of Ogres and hill giants, making the hairs on their necks stand up.
For Paliborn, the hollow-filled cliffs looked like giant blocks of Gruyere cheese, riddled with holes, much like his hometown of Half Town. Brimming with confidence, he stepped forward on the deck and began shouting, "Hey, you bloody, ugly, hairy giants, and brainless Ogres! Let's have some orcs in here!"
The monstrous creatures responded with incomprehensible curses and threats, beating their chests like gorillas.
"You frog-voiced ones, can't you hear me?" Paliborn continued to taunt them in various ways, goading them.
And soon enough, orcs started raining down from the cliffs, splashing into the sea to the left and right of the ship. Some were so close that the halfling got soaked.
Laughing like a child, Paliborn watched the spectacle unfold. Suddenly, he heard the sound of two arrows shooting out of the bow, one after the other. The cries of a hill giant echoed through the cliffs as Arvedas, standing at the foremast's observation deck, shot an arrow that pierced the giant's arms, just as it was about to hurl a flailing orc. Losing balance, the giant tumbled backward, and the hapless orc fell down the cliff, hitting the bottom with a thud.
The crew erupted in laughter, and even Captain Barb couldn't help but smile. In that short moment, they had overcome their concerns and shared a remarkable moment of relief. Fear was of no use to anyone on the ship, and the captain realized that, while preventing the ship from being damaged through his maneuvers. The game had helped the crew bond more, and Paliborn's antics had brought them closer together.