Northern stepped down from the ship with a slightly disheveled expression.
"What's with the welcome?"
Everyone had their weapons raised in some form or another. Despite the exhaustion evident on their faces—and the injuries many bore—they still carried determined gazes, ready to see this through to the very end.
As inspiring as it was to look at them, it was also quite pitiful.
"How long until this ship gives up and crashes?" Northern asked, ignoring everything else.
"We're barely holding it together," one of the sailors standing around answered carelessly.
The others glanced at him, causing the clueless fellow to shrug indifferently.
"It's broken at the bottom, but I'm sure it's durable enough to get us to Arcadia," the sailor continued. He glanced around and stopped when his eyes landed on Alystren. Then he moved out of the way.
Immediately, the other sailors yelled:
