“I don’t know how to thank you,” Elfitine said as she bowed deeply to the siblings.
She stood on the dock, surrounded by twenty of her followers. Three days had passed since the Ginnungagap incident, and Blasphemers’ Garden had been thrown into confusion. Ginnungagap had caused extensive damage to both the tunnels and the buildings above ground, but the biggest shock to the islanders was the death of Reynard, their unfaltering leader of ten years.
If not for Elfitine’s amazing leadership in this time of crisis, the islanders might have completely fallen apart. As it was, they had already started rebuilding.
Just after the crisis, Elfitine had gathered the islanders together. She informed them of the deaths of Reynard and twenty other islanders. She told them that the strategic level attack magic had failed, causing the deaths of many of their comrades and damaging their home in the process. She told them that it was time to move forward, this time in a different direction.
Of course, many people objected, but Elfitine laid their fears to rest with one simple statement: “It may have been our eagerness for revenge that cost Reynard his life.” Reynard had never approved of unnecessary violence; the islanders had to assume that he had only gone along with such a vengeful plan for their sakes.
“If you’re ever in the area again, please stop by and visit us. The whole island will welcome you.” Elfitine smiled at them.
She had ordered the repair of the Inox, and Shannon and his sisters stood on the new deck, ready to leave. Their carriage and horses would be propelling the ship, taking the place of the original cows.
“Well, I didn’t really do much,” Pacifica smiled back at her from the deck.
“That’s not true at all!” Elfitine objected.
The truth of what had happened was withheld from the islanders. They’d been told that the magic had run out of control due to an accident, and Elfitine had brought it back under control with the help of Shannon and Raquel.
Elfitine was back in her role as the Scrapped Princess, but now her regal attitude seemed much more natural. The Scrapped Princess mask she wore was now one of her own creation, one she wore of her own free will.
One day, perhaps that ideal mask would become entirely her own; one day, she would be strong enough to stand before her people, the mask and her true self one and the same.
She wanted to stand on her own two feet, in the place Reynard had sought to reach.
“All of you, take care.”
“You too, Elfitine.”
With a grind of gears, the ship’s outer wheels started to turn, and the Inox moved slowly away from the dock. Pacifica stood at the railing and waved to Elfitine and the others.
Berkens sat near Pacifica’s feet, hidden from the islanders. Once he was sure they were too far from the island to be heard, he turned to the man next to him.
That man was also hidden out of sight from anyone on shore. His face looked worn, and one arm was bound in a splint.
Reynard.
“So, what are you going to do now?” Berkens asked him.
Reynard simply shrugged. When he’d jumped, Berkens had happened to be on the terrace below. He had reached out and grabbed the falling man. Reynard’s arm was broken by the impact, but besides that, he was fine.
Berkens wasn’t sure why he had saved Reynard in that moment—he’d been so determined to kill the man. But he figured that, in the end, it had all worked out for the best.
“Are you sure about leaving the island?” Berkens asked.
“I can’t be sure that the murderer isn’t still inside me, somewhere,” Reynard sighed. “Until I’m completely sure that I’ve defeated him, that I’ve become the real Reynard Ganvas instead of just the mask, there’s no way I can live with the islanders.”
“Do you really think you’ll be able to do that?”
“I don’t know,” Reynard said, “but I think it’s worth the effort. Don’t you think so, Shannon?”
Shannon squirmed in discomfort at being asked for approval. He gave the man a noncommittal shrug. “Speaking of plans,” Shannon said, looking at Berkens, “what are you going to do?” He gave the priest a sharp look. “If you report the island, those people won’t stand a chance.”
Berkens grinned. “You know, I’m a really forgetful person—especially after I’ve had a bottle of quality liquor. I can never seem to remember a thing.”
“Okay, okay, I get it,” Reynard said with a wry smile. “When we get to West Mosburg, drinks are on me.”
“Even if they’re discovered,” Berkens said, “without all the anti-Mauser plotting, they’re just like an ordinary village. Things are different from ten years ago. The military and external affairs agencies wouldn’t care much about a group like them.”
Shannon wandered away toward the stern. Berkens stood up and followed him.
“So, what are you going to do?” Berkens asked, leaning against the railing.
“That’s none of your business.”
“Come on, I’m curious. What lies ahead for the real Scrapped Princess?”
Shannon gave him a harsh look. “When did you catch on?”
“I wasn’t sure until just now.”
Shannon stared down at the white wake their ship left behind. “Will you try to kill us?” he asked quietly.
For a moment, the priest hesitated. Then he shook his head. “I told you already. I’m real forgetful.”
Shannon gave the man a look. “You really are a strange priest.”
“You’re one to talk.” Berkens grinned and glanced over at Pacifica. “You know, your little sister is going to make a fine woman someday. Make sure you take good care of her—you don’t meet girls like that very often. She’s really something.”
“You don’t need to tell me that,” Shannon said, “I already know she’s a precious little princess.”
Berkens laughed, and Shannon couldn’t help smiling as well.
Not far from where they stood, the Scrapped Princess, known everywhere as a poison who would destroy the world, waved earnestly at people too far away to see.