The airship was already in motion.

The faint morning dew along with soft clouds occasionally passing by, heavily contrasted the events that had just happened in Dheam.

Fritz stood near the rail on the upper deck, hands propped up on the railing easily.

Things were… working.

Amelia moved through the deck with quiet authority, issuing instructions without raising her voice. Crew members responded immediately, relaying status updates without confusion or hesitation.

It was like the rhythm of a well-oiled machine.

Taylor was nearby, coordinating supplies and rotations. When a question came up, she answered it. When it didn't need answering, she let it pass. The crew trusted her. That much was obvious.

Further down the deck, Jay sat cross-legged near an open crate, a small burner flickering at his side. Vials were lined up neatly beside him, some already sealed, others still cooling.

A pot hung over a low flame nearby, the scent of something warm and edible drifting through the air. A few crew members lingered close, pretending not to hover.

Jay handed out bowls without comment.

No one asked where Ryn was. He was the Captain, yet nobody seemed to pay attention?

Fritz noticed that before he noticed anything else.

He scanned the deck once more, then the stairwell leading below. No familiar silhouette nor quiet presence standing just outside the flow of things.

The ship didn't falter.

That… bothered him. And relieved him, all at once.

Then he realized why.

This wasn't absence.

It was the aftermath.

The systems Ryn had put in place were holding. Decisions already made were being carried out by people who he trusted, and were competent enough not to question every step.

Without that groundwork, everything else would be just…noise. Fritz exhaled slowly.

He'd been wrong in one way.

Ryn wasn't doing everything.

But he'd been wrong in another, more dangerous one too.

Without Ryn, none of this would exist in the first place. That was the part Fritz hadn't fully understood.

So…why was he here?

Just as the Hero Candidate?

Fritz waited for clarity to follow, for the kind of neat conclusion that usually came after a realization.

It didn't.

Instead, the thought stayed heavy, unfinished.

He'd been wrong about Ryn once already. Assumed certainty where there hadn't been any.

He wasn't about to do that again.

Fritz pushed off the rail and turned from the deck.

If he didn't understand his place yet, then the answer wasn't something he could reason out alone.

The stairwell leading below was quiet, the hum of the engines growing deeper with each step. The air felt warmer here, enclosed, heavy with the smell of metal and oil.

Ryn wasn't hard to find.

He was almost always inside the planning room, 24 hours a day.

Fritz slowed as he approached it, the door partially open. Light spilled through the gap, illuminating scattered maps and notes across the table inside.

Ryn stood over them, sleeves rolled up, gaze distant as he traced a path with chalk.

Fritz hesitated.

Then knocked lightly and stepped inside.

"Got a minute?" he asked.

"…Yeah," he said. "Come in."

Fritz stepped fully into the planning room, the door sliding shut behind him with a soft click.

Ryn was quiet for a moment after that.

Then he straightened from the table, rolling the map closed with deliberate care before setting it aside.

"You didn't come to argue," he said.

Fritz blinked. "…No."

"You didn't come to question the route either."

"…No."

Ryn nodded once, as if confirming something he'd already assumed.

"You came because something didn't sit right," he continued. "And you couldn't put a name to it."

That landed.

Fritz shifted his weight slightly, then stopped himself. He hadn't said a word yet, and somehow it felt like Ryn already knew what he was thinking.

Ryn leaned back against the table.

"We're different," he said.

"You listen to people," Ryn went on.

"Not just what they say. What they mean. You hear it when they're tired, when they're scared, when they're holding onto something by their fingernails."

Fritz opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"I don't," Ryn said simply. "I can't afford to."

"Look," he said slowly. "There's one thing you do better than anyone else here."

A pause.

"The exact quality that made me choose you as Gremory's Hero."

Fritz stilled.

"When you're there," Ryn continued, "people believe the worst has already passed. That whatever comes next is survivable."

He met Fritz's eyes.

"That's not strategy nor strength."

Another beat.

"It's hope."

Silence followed, just enough for Fritz to take in what he'd said.

After a moment, he huffed once, more reflex than laughter.

"…You're not just saying that to hype me up before I fall later, right?"

Ryn blinked.

Then, after a beat, he snorted quietly.

"No," he said. "If I were doing that, I'd be more dramatic."

That earned a small smile from Fritz.

Ryn's expression settled again, calm and steady.

"I don't do speeches," he continued. "And I don't lie about things that matter."

Fritz studied him for a moment longer.

"Now that's a lie," Fritz said. "You did one in Dheam."

Ryn sighed and sat back on the nearby chair.

"…Yeah," he said. "And look where that got me."

A knock sounded at the doorframe.

Ryn looked up first this time.

Amelia stood there, one hand braced against the panel, the other holding a folded slate. Her expression was composed, but her eyes flicked briefly between the two of them—taking in the fact that they were together.

"There you are," she said. "I was wondering where you disappeared to."

Ryn pushed himself up from the chair. "Something wrong?"

"No," Amelia replied. "Just… timing."

She stepped aside, gesturing down the corridor. "We're approaching the edge of the Dwarven Empire's airspace. The charts line up."

Fritz raised an eyebrow. "That fast?"

"We didn't slow after Dheam," Amelia said. "No reason to."

She turned her attention back to Ryn as they walked.

"We can reach Khaz Vordun directly," she continued, "but I don't recommend it."

Ryn nodded once, already following.

"Supplies are fine for the crew," Amelia went on, "but not comfortable. And the outer trade routes are active this time of year."

They emerged onto the deck as she finished, wind rushing to meet them.

"There's a coastal town along the eastern edge," Amelia said. "Still technically under Dwarven authority, but far enough out that we won't draw attention."

Ryn rested his hands on the rail, eyes narrowing slightly as the distant landmass came into view.

"A rest stop," he said. "And a chance to hear what's changed."

"And to let people breathe," Amelia added quietly.

Fritz glanced between them, then nodded.

"Sounds reasonable."

Amelia folded the slate shut.

"I'll inform the crew," she said. "We'll set down within the hour."

She paused, then looked at Ryn.

"You should come up here more often," she said. "People notice when you vanish."

Ryn huffed softly. "I'll keep that in mind."

Amelia turned away, already calling orders as she moved.

Fritz leaned against the rail beside Ryn, eyes on the approaching coastline.

"…Guess that means we're not done yet," he said.

Ryn watched the horizon.

"No," he replied. "But we're moving forward."

The airship adjusted its course, angling toward the coast as the Dwarven lands stretched wide beneath them.

Khaz Vordun waited further inland.

For now, this would be enough.

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