The Northern road stretched endlessly beneath a pale, gray sky.
The further Justus and Daemon traveled, the colder and sharper the mountain air became.
The towering pine trees slowly thinned out, replaced by jagged rocky hills and patches of pale, wind-swept wild grass.
Justus strolled ahead, his hands folded lazily behind his head.
Daemon followed several paces behind, his heavy rifle resting comfortably across his shoulder.
For almost an hour, neither of them spoke a word.
Then Daemon finally broke the silence.
“How much farther?”
Justus kept walking, not bothering to look back.
“I don’t know.”
Daemon stopped in his tracks, staring at the back of his head.
“You’ve been saying that for three hours.”
“Because it’s still true.”
“You were the one who said we were close!”
“I said we were probably close.”
“You said, and I quote,” Daemon’s voice took on a flat, mockingly dramatic tone, “‘I can smell the ocean.'”
Justus allowed a quick smile.
“Maybe I was hungry.”
Daemon stopped dead on the trail.
Justus continued taking several long strides before realizing he was walking alone.
He turned on his heel.
“Why’d you stop?”
“I’m reconsidering my life choices,” Daemon said flatly.
Justus burst out laughing.
“You’re too dramatic.”
“No.
I’m tired.”
“We’ve been walking all day!”
“Exactly.”
Justus turned around and pointed toward the horizon beyond the rocky crest.
“Look.”
Daemon narrowed his eyes, peering past Justus’s finger.
At first, he saw nothing but gray hills.
Then, right through a gap in the stone, he caught a glimpse of a faint, shimmering blue line.
The ocean.
Daemon let out a long, heavy sigh.
“Finally.”
Justus grinned brightly.
“See?
I told you.”
“You said we’d reach it two hours ago.”
“And now we have.”
“That doesn’t make you right!”
“It makes me right eventually.”
Daemon shook his head, resuming his pace.
“That’s not how being right works.”
Justus turned back toward the path, stepping briskly.
“You talk way too much for someone who spends half his day sleeping.”
Daemon caught up beside him.
“I conserve energy.”
“For what?”
“Shooting people.”
Justus glanced sideways at the heavy rifle resting against Daemon’s shoulder.
“You really like that thing, don’t you?”
Daemon looked down at the steel receiver.
“My rifle?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s reliable.”
“That’s all?”
Daemon shrugged.
“It does exactly what I tell it to do.”
Justus smiled warmly.
“Unlike you?”
“Unlike you.”
Justus laughed aloud.
“You know, you could just admit you like it.”
Daemon adjusted the strap over his coat.
“I like winning.”
Justus grinned wider.
“That’s better.”
By late afternoon, they reached the crest of a massive, wind-blown rocky ridge.
The high ocean spread endlessly before them, its dark blue waves breaking against the base of the cliffs.
Tucked below in a natural fjord was a compact coastal settlement.
Unlike Blackridge, this town wasn’t enclosed by towering stone walls.
It was built directly into the coastline, structured entirely around a horseshoe harbor.
Wooden houses with dark tiled roofs lined the shoreline, and dozens of fishing vessels darted between long timber docks.
At the far edge of the harbor stood a massive, sprawling industrial complex with tall cranes and open wooden drydocks.
Justus’s eyes locked onto it instantly.
“There.”
Daemon followed his gaze.
“A shipyard.”
Justus’s grin returned.
“Exactly what we need.”
Daemon looked over at him, raising an eyebrow.
“Finally, something you planned properly.”
Justus turned, looking offended.
“I plan everything properly.”
Daemon gave him a completely blank stare.
“You got us lost yesterday.”
“I was exploring.”
“You walked us in a full circle.”
“It was a very interesting circle.”
Daemon sighed, walking down the rocky incline.
“Let me just talk to the shipbuilders.”
They descended into the harbor town.
The closer they got to the docks, the louder the bustling sounds of labor became.
Heavy hammers struck heated metal, foremen shouted instructions over the wind, creaking ropes strained against timber, and half a dozen ships were docked in various stages of repair.
Justus stopped right outside the iron gates of the largest facility.
A massive timber sign hung above the archway:
IRONWAVE SHIPWORKS
Daemon eyed the entrance.
“Sounds expensive.”
Justus reached into his coat and pulled out the leather pouch containing their heavy payment from Raven’s Pass.
He opened it, letting the golden coins clink softly.
Daemon glanced inside.
“Looks like we’re more than fine.”
Justus nodded.
“Exactly.”
Daemon looked back at the gate.
“So this time, don’t pretend we’re broke just to haggle.”
Justus smirked.
“I wasn’t pretending.”
“You were going to.”
“I was considering it.”
“Same thing.”
Justus pushed the heavy wooden gate open.
“Come on.”
They stepped into the bustling drydock.
In the center of the yard sat the massive, exposed skeleton of a warship.
Dozens of carpenters were hammering wooden planks directly into its hull, while another vessel was anchored nearby, receiving a fresh coat of dark sealant.
Justus looked around, taking in the scale.
“This place is huge.”
Daemon nodded in agreement.
“Which means someone here actually knows what they’re doing.”
A rough, deep voice echoed from behind a stack of lumber.
“That’s usually how shipyards work.”
Both boys turned around.
A broad-shouldered man stood several paces away.
He wore a heavy leather work apron covered in sawdust, his thick sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
A massive steel wrench rested casually across his right shoulder.
He looked at Justus, then at Daemon, then his eyes lingered on the rifle, before snapping back to Justus.
“You two actually buying something, or just taking a stroll?”
Justus smiled politely.
“We need a ship.”
The man barked out a short laugh.
“That’s a very expensive sentence, kid.”
“We can pay.”
The shipbuilder’s eyes sharpened slightly.
“Can you now?”
Justus held up the leather pouch, giving it a light shake.
The man glanced at the gold, then looked Justus up and down again.
“Depends on what kind of ship you’re looking for.”
“Fast,” Justus said instantly.
“How fast?”
“Fast enough to outrun anyone chasing us.”
Daemon glanced at Justus.
“Subtle.”
The shipbuilder let out another boom of laughter.
“Strong?”
Justus nodded.
“Strong.”
“Long-range capacity?”
Daemon stepped forward, answering this time.
“Good range.
High hull stability so I can fire accurately while we’re on the move.”
The shipbuilder squinted at Daemon’s rifle.
“You actually know how to shoot that thing?”
Daemon stared back at him without flinching.
“No.”
The man raised an eyebrow.
Justus burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.
The shipbuilder stared for a beat before letting out a massive laugh himself.
“All right.
I like you kid.”
Daemon shrugged modestly.
“I’ve heard worse.”
The shipbuilder turned his gaze back to Justus.
“And what about you?”
Justus rested his hand lightly over Gryphon’s crossguard.
“I need deck space to move and fight.”
The man’s eyes dropped down to the dark sword.
“You’re a swordsman.”
“Among other things.”
The shipbuilder nodded slowly, taking in the weapon.
“Interesting.” He lowered the wrench from his shoulder, resting it on a wooden crate.
“Name’s Kael.”
Justus offered a warm smile.
“Justus.”
Daemon closed his eyes, letting out a small sigh.
“Are you really giving people our real names again?”
Justus looked at him, confused.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Daemon turned to Kael.
“Don’t ask.”
Kael smirked, glancing at Daemon.
“And you are?”
“Daemon.”
Kael looked between the two boys, his expression becoming thoughtful.
“You two don’t look like merchants.”
“We’re not.”
“Mercenary soldiers?”
“No.”
“Pirates?”
Justus grinned wickedly.
“Not officially.”
Kael stared at him.
Daemon pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Please stop talking, Justus.”
Kael burst into a full belly laugh.
“All right, I definitely like you two!”
Kael led them deeper into the shipworks, walking them down the rows of completed and second-hand vessels docked along the pier.
The first ship was too small to survive open ocean storms.
The second was sleek and fast, but severely under-armored.
The third was a massive cargo transport, but moving it felt like pulling a mountain.
Justus inspected every single one with a sharp eye.
“This one?” Justus pointed.
Kael shook his head.
“Too fragile.
One heavy wave in the northern channel will split her keel.”
“The blue one over there?”
“Too slow.
A fishing rowboat could outpace her.”
“What about that black one?”
“Too expensive.”
Justus frowned, holding his pouch.
“We have the gold.”
Kael looked down at him.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t afford it.”
“Then what’s the issue?”
“You’d hate it.”
“Why?”
“Because she handles like a floating brick.”
Daemon nodded from behind them.
“He’s right.”
Justus turned to Daemon.
“You’ve never even sailed a ship!”
“I don’t need to sail it to know a brick when I see one and besides I sailed the one you destroyed.”
“Me or the sea monster”?
Justus asked curiously.
Kael chuckled.
“You two really are something else.”
Justus crossed his arms, looking around the yard.
“So what do you actually recommend?”
Kael walked toward an open, empty timber slip near the center of the yard.
“I don’t recommend anything off the rack.” He pointed down at the cleared foundation.
“I build what people actually need.”
Justus’s crimson eyes lit up slightly.
“You build custom hulls?”
Kael nodded proudly.
“That’s what the sign on the gate says, isn’t it?”
Justus smiled wide.
“How long?”
Kael picked up on his intent immediately.
“You want me to build you one from scratch?”
“Yes.”
Kael locked eyes with him, growing serious.
“Tell me exactly what you want.”
Justus started counting off on his fingers.
“Fast.
Reinforced armor plating.
Enough cabin space for a proper crew down the road.
Good storage for food and gear.
And capable of cutting through rough northern waters.”
Daemon added smoothly, “And superior deck balance for long-range marksman cover.”
Kael looked over at Daemon.
“Planning on sniping from the quarterdeck?”
“Whenever necessary.”
“How good are you really?”
Daemon shrugged lightly.
“Good enough.”
Kael looked back at Justus.
“And you?”
Justus grinned.
“Good enough.”
Kael shook his head with a grin.
“You two are going to be a real handful, aren’t you?”
Justus laughed.
“Probably.”
Kael walked onto the empty timber frame, taking out a piece of chalk.
“I can build it.”
Justus followed him over.
“How long?”
Kael stopped, tapping his chalk against his chin.
“Three weeks.”
Daemon nodded thoughtfully.
“That’s actually very reasonable.”
Kael held up a finger.
“Maybe four.”
Justus frowned slightly.
“Four weeks?”
“If you want every single detail you just listed built properly to survive the northern seas?
Yes.
Four weeks.”
Justus turned his gaze toward the open blue horizon beyond the cliffs.
“We can wait.”
Daemon looked at Justus.
“You sure?”
Justus nodded softly.
“We don’t have anywhere urgent to be right now.”
Daemon considered it, then agreed.
“Fair.”
Kael smiled, holding out a rough, calloused hand covered in wood ash.
“Then we’ve got a deal.”
Justus looked at the hand, then shook it firmly.
“Deal.”
Three days later, construction was officially underway.
The foundation timbers of the new hull were already being shaped in the drydock.
Justus stood beside Kael, watching two carpenters heat and bend thick oak planks to form the bow.
Daemon sat nearby on a stack of heavy wooden crates, meticulously cleaning the internal bolt mechanism of his rifle.
Justus looked over at him.
“You’re not helping at all, are you?”
Daemon didn’t even look up from his metal cloth.
“I am supervising.”
“You’re literally just sitting there.”
“Supervising is eighty percent sitting.”
Kael shouted from across the timber frame with a laugh, “He’s got a point, kid!”
Justus threw his hands up toward Kael.
“Don’t encourage him!”
Kael kept driving iron rivets into a beam.
“Why not?”
“Because he’s already insufferable enough as it is!”
Daemon calmly slid a shiny round into his rifle magazine.
“You asked me to keep watch over the shipyard.”
“I didn’t ask you to sleep on the crates!”
“I wasn’t sleeping.”
“You definitely were.”
“I was resting my eyes,” Daemon corrected smoothly.
Justus stared at him in disbelief.
“With your eyes completely closed?!”
“That’s generally how resting your eyes works.”
Kael let out a laugh so loud he nearly dropped his heavy iron hammer onto the dock.
Justus shook his head, sighing softly.
“I really don’t know why I keep you around.”
Daemon shrugged casually.
“You’d probably die within a week without me.”
Justus allowed a small grin.
“Maybe.”
Daemon met his eyes.
“Not maybe.”
As the days turned into weeks, Kael quickly realized that Justus and Daemon were far more than just two reckless teenagers with gold.
One afternoon, a massive wooden support beam snapped free from an overhead crane, swinging dangerously out of control toward three unsuspecting apprentice workers.
“Look out!” Kael screamed, lunging forward.
Justus reacted before anyone else could move.
SCHWING.
Gryphon was drawn in a flash of dark iron.
In a single, fluid strike, Justus sliced through the thick, frayed rope holding the weight.
The massive beam dropped straight down, crashing harmlessly into the soft dirt away from the workers.
The apprentices sat on the ground, pale and hyperventilating.
Kael walked over, looking at the clean, severed cut on the heavy rope, then turned to Justus.
“You’re paying for that crane rope.”
Justus blinked in absolute shock.
“Seriously?!”
“Crimes against equipment aren’t free, kid,” Kael said sternly.
Daemon strolled over, hands in his pockets.
“He’s right, Justus.
You destroyed company property.”
Justus pointed wildly at the fallen beam.
“That thing was about to crush three people!”
Kael grinned, tapping Justus on the shoulder.
“Which is why I’m only charging you half-price for the rope.”
Justus smirked, shaking his head.
“See?
You love me.”
“Don’t push your luck, kid.”
Later that evening, as dusk settled over the harbor, Daemon stood at the edge of the far wooden pier.
A small, wooden target block had been floating in the water nearly three hundred meters out.
Daemon raised his long rifle, resting his elbow against his knee as he took a breathing stance.
Justus leaned against a timber pillar behind him, watching quietly.
“You sure you can actually hit that from this distance with the waves moving?” Justus asked.
Daemon didn’t answer.
He didn’t even blink.
CRACK!
The loud report echoed across the quiet harbor.
Out in the distance, the wooden target split directly down the center, floating in two pieces.
Justus let out a low whistle.
“Nice shot.”
Daemon smoothly ejected the hot casing, lowering his weapon.
“Obviously.”
“You know, you could at least pretend to be humble once in a while.”
“Why?”
“Because normal people do.”
“I’m not normal.”
Justus laughed aloud.
Kael strolled up the pier, wiping grease from his hands with a rag.
“That wasn’t any spiritual ability, was it?”
Daemon glanced sideways at him.
“No.
Just mechanical precision.”
Kael pointed toward the custom rifle.
“Where’d you get a piece like that?”
“It’s a custom build,” Daemon answered simply.
“And your actual combat strength?” Kael pressed lightly.
Daemon’s tone shifted, growing quiet and sharp.
“That’s something else entirely.”
Kael looked at him for a long moment, nodding respectfully before backing off.
He didn’t push the boundary.
Justus smiled softly.
“He likes keeping his secrets.”
Daemon looked over at Justus.
“So do you.”
“I tell you everything!” Justus argued.
Daemon stared at him with flat eyes.
“You absolutely do not.”
Justus paused, rubbing the back of his neck.
“…I tell you most things.”
“Better.”
Two weeks passed in a flash.
The hull of the ship was nearly fully timbered, its sleek, sharp bow designed specifically to slice through heavy northern ice and ocean swells.
Kael had completely integrated the two boys into the rhythm of the shipworks.
What started as a simple transaction had slowly shifted into something genuine.
They shared heavy evening meals together on the docks, bickered over ship designs, sparred in the open yard, and helped lift heavy lumber.
For the first time since leaving the island, Justus felt a strange sense of peace.
One evening, the three of them sat on the edge of the main pier, eating hot fish stew under the starlight.
Kael took a sip from his mug, looking sideways at Justus.
“You know…
when you two first walked through my gate, I thought you were going to bring a nightmare of trouble to my yard.”
Justus offered a bright smile.
“You were right.”
Kael laughed heartily.
Daemon took a bite of his food, speaking up calmly.
“You were wrong about one thing, though.”
Kael looked over at him.
“What’s that?”
Daemon pointed his spoon toward Justus.
“You thought he was going to be normal trouble.”
Kael burst out laughing so hard he nearly choked on his stew.
Justus looked between the two of them, putting a hand over his chest.
“Hey!
What’s so wrong with me?!”
Daemon answered instantly without hesitation: “Everything.”
Kael nodded in agreement.
“He’s completely right, kid.”
Justus let out a long sigh, shaking his head.
“I deeply regret making friends with you two.”
Kael smiled warmly.
“Too late now, kid.”
Justus looked over at him, his voice softening slightly.
“Friends?”
Kael shrugged, looking back out at the glowing reflection of the moon on the water.
“Don’t make it all emotional.”
Justus grinned softly.
“I wasn’t going to.”
Daemon looked at both of them, taking another calm bite.
“Good.”
Kael chuckled into his mug.
Late that night, long after Kael had turned in and the workers had gone home, Justus stood alone at the far edge of the wooden pier.
The moonlight danced across the dark, undulating surface of the ocean.
The cool sea breeze whistled softly through the scaffolding of their unfinished ship.
Footsteps crunched on the gravel behind him as Daemon walked over, leaning his arms against the wooden railing beside him.
“You’ve been quiet for an hour,” Daemon noted softly.
Justus kept his eyes fixed on the distant dark horizon.
“Just thinking.”
“About?”
“About how much everything has changed.”
Daemon looked down at the water.
“Since Blackridge?”
“Yeah,” Justus murmured.
“Kraven and Corvus left us behind there…
and now we’re here.
Building our own vessel.”
Daemon turned his head, glancing back at the tall, impressive wooden frame of their ship rising against the night sky.
“Not bad for two ex-cadets.”
Justus smiled softly.
“Yeah.”
He went quiet for a moment, letting the sound of the tide fill the silence.
“…Do you think we’ll keep meeting people like Kael out there?”
Daemon shrugged lightly.
“Probably.”
“Do you think any of them will stay?”
“Probably not,” Daemon said honestly.
“Everyone has their own road.”
Justus looked sideways at him.
“That’s pretty depressing.”
“It’s realistic.”
Justus let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.
“You really know how to ruin a peaceful moment.”
“Someone has to keep you grounded.”
Justus turned his eyes back toward the vast, dark ocean ahead.
Neither of them noticed the high cliff overlook situated half a mile above the harbor settlement.
Standing beneath the shadow of a solitary pine tree was a figure wrapped in a long gray cloak—a Guardian operative, adjusting a pair of long-range glass optics.
Watching.
Waiting.
The strategy had shifted.
The High Command had tried pursuit
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