The Poet's System

Time felt frozen in a fleeting moment. It was a powerful thing to witness, and Daylan would even go so far as to call it a privilege—a dream anyone in his shoes would pray for.

Still, Daylan had a few things on his mind, despite how quickly time passed. Pry’s promise to speak with him had been delayed—he waited and waited, yet heard nothing from her. Over time, worry crept in, but he still held on to hope, since she had never specified which monastery.

It was a calm morning when Daylan, Medora, and Lieutenant Bruce stood beside a carriage as the driver loaded their luggage.

Their one week was well spent—they completed their training, and Medora took the initiative to bid farewell to her mother.

"You two still aren’t on their level yet. Make sure you don’t provoke any of them—that might be the end of you," Lieutenant Bruce said, his voice laced with seriousness.

Both Daylan and Medora gave her a firm nod in unison and climbed into the carriage. It began rolling toward the western harbor, where merchant ships waited along the docks.

Medora began reminding Daylan of their first time on a ship—and how he had to be stopped from jumping into the sea on multiple occasions.

Daylan’s memories of that occasion were fuzzy. In his previous world, he recalled not liking the sea—he always got seasick and had once been stuck on it for three days.

He masked his nervousness with a fake smile, but the sweat on his face told a different story.

Before long, they arrived at the harbor. There were three bridges: one led to a semi-large ship—clearly not fit for the Royal Capital; another was surrounded by over a dozen fishing boats; and the third led to the biggest ship of all.

It was clad in golden armor—not heavy enough to sink the ship, but light and luxurious—and flew a white flag bearing a red cross, the symbol of the divines. Its gangway was cautiously lowered onto the bridge.