The last town before the Trench Forests was called Trench Base. Just as Markus had said, the Logistics Guild’s inn sat in the town center. Unlike the Initiator’s Guild, which boasted itself as a philanthropic force, the Logistics Guild made no such claims. It was called LOG, which meant house in Garden Tongue and was a consortium of weapons, hospitality, food, and transport business. LOG services came with clear price tags, and their one-stop shops dotted every region, especially Five Sisters.

Mikael looked up at the signboard with LOG painted in thick red. The sign alone looked pricier than the inventory of some nearby shops. 

“We could just stay here,”  said Fia. They’d already bought gear in an earlier town—on Fia’s insistence—and now had no excuse to venture into the LOG establishment to gather intelligence. 

“We have enough for three nights,” said Mikael. “One room.”

“Did you do the math right? Don’t spend from Abraha’s stack.”

Mikael couldn’t. He didn’t have Abraha’s stack. Noah had left him with what was a little over every cent they had earned in the Capital. The overhead was likely what he would get by selling anything he’d left behind in the Capital, which explained why he’d stopped there. Mikael didn’t know what to do with this information. He wanted to tell Fia, but dreaded the waterfall of question that would follow.

“I did it right. Three nights, no more.”

The entrance to LOG Inn had six feet of bristled mats to clean boots. The lobby looked inviting with round tables surrounded by yellow sofas and a jute runner from the entrance leading straight to the reception. The place was empty save for the receptionist who was spread out on two chairs behind the reception desk. His charcoal pencil moved like a seismometer on the drawing pad on his lap. 

“Hello,” said Fia. 

His eyes shot up, first to Fia, then to Akira by her side. Lids drooping, he threw back the light brown hair hanging over his brow with a jerk, put his legs down and the notepad on the desk. He had the round plump face of a boy, and the broad shoulders of a man, possibly falling in the years where he was still a bit of both.

“Hello, ladies,” he said huskily.

Mikael let out a sound that could’ve been a chuckle, a cough, a bark, or none of them. The boy—or man—still didn’t notice him. 

Fia’s gaze dropped to the drawing pad with a half-drawn woman on her back. Black hair framed seductive eyes and slightly parted lips. The innkeeper followed her gaze, and hurriedly flipped the notepad—a second woman draped in a thin sheet, body twisted in what could only be intense pleasure or excruciating pain—likely the former given the face somehow captured yearning on a flat page. Prick.

Akira leaned forward to look; the receptionist yelped and flipped the notebook shut. 

“You’re very good,” Akira said.  

“Oh—haha—I’m just an amateur.” 

“Wow,” said Fia. “If that’s amateur, what’s professional.”

“Maybe we can look at the art after we get the room,” said Mikael. 

Fia smiled, meaningfully. 

Akira popped her head out from behind Fia. “Maybe we can do both.”

They were going to play him! Mikael drew in a breath to object but realized he had no sympathy to spare for this innkeeper. 

He turned to him. “I”m Mikael. It’s our first time in Trench Base.” 

“I’m Fia,” she chirped, all cutesy.

“Akira,” Akira said, voice soft.

The boy stood up, putting the notepad on his chair. “Artyom Nikolayevich Kramskoi.” 

Fia blinked her big round eyes, clearly unsure whether that was one name or six. Mikael cleared his throat to keep himself from laughing at her attempted nonchalance. 

Akira leaned on the table, lips fuller than Mikael had ever known them to be.

“Can we call you Art?” she said in a honeyed voice.

“You can call me Art,” the innkeeper said quickly. 

Mikael’s jaw slackened. He was almost certain that if she ever wanted to, he’d likely let her call him Art, too. He shuddered at the thought. 

---

In the next hours, Mikael’s opinion of Art improved. He was a decent guy, just caught mid-muse by a couple of pretty girls. Convenient, because the said girls expertly extracted all he knew about water sources, pitfalls and territorial predators in the forest without a fee, and then continued to browse his art.

Not all his drawings were sensual, but nearly all of them captured raw emotion. Akira paused at a sketch of a half-naked man biting down on a rolled up shirt as he pulled a quill from between his ribs. His body was drawn exquisitely, down to every stiff muscle, eyes wide with shock at the pain he experienced once the spine began to slide. It was impossible not to imagine his face contorting in pain a moment later.

“Who is he?” she asked.

“A hunter,” Artyom said. “I saw him pull it out. Most of the others are drawn from imagination.”

“Do you get many hunters here?” Fia asked. 

“Oh yes. I’ve been working here a whole year now, ever since I arrived. It’s part of the job—guiding hunters. I have a pile of books in the back store, I can show you some of them.”

Fia’s eyes twinkled.

Mikael glanced a the shadows, cast long by the afternoon sun pouring in through the windows. “We should go over as much as we can before we check-out tomorrow.”

“Did you study art on Earth?” Akira asked, flipping a page. 

“Yeah, since I was a kid.”

“I underestimated you, Art. You are truly amazing.” 

He brightened. “You don’t have to leave tomorrow. I can discount your stay.”

“That’s kind,” Akira said. “But we’re quite broke.”

“How long do you need?” he asked. 

“About two weeks; then we’ll go into the forest,” Fia said. 

“Then stay for free,” he said. “I have empty rooms. The hunting season is only just starting.” 

“We can’t possibly do that,” Fia said. 

“Won’t you get in trouble?” said Akira. 

“It’s an empty room,” he said. “It’ll be wasteful if you don’t.”  

“Well…” said Fia and just as all her flirtation had finally borne fruit, Mikael saw cold feet.

“We’ll take it!” he said and ignored Fia’s frown.

Of course, it wasn’t until they were in their room that he blasted them for throwing themselves at a young boy still struggling with hormones. 

“He’s not that young!” said Akira. 

“Whatever helps you sleep, you foul women!” Mikael said and earned multiple flying pillows. 

---

In the next few days, Artyom proved himself even more useful. He let them use one of the back offices at the LOG Inn. Motivated by guilt, Fia and Akira cooked for him every night after the kitchen closed. The food was often overcooked, overspiced, or oversalted—or all three—but Art was happy to eat it, and Mikael was happy so long as he didn’t have to cook.

Almost two weeks later, they finally had a solid plan to reach their destination.

“I think it’s a good plan,” Artyom said, studying the route after dinner. “I’m excited to see this bird. I really hope you can capture it.”

There was, of course, no rare bird. That was just the story they’d told him. 

Once Art had gone to bed, Fia pulled out the rest of the plan. “I’m excited to cross the river.”

Most maps ended at the river that split this side of the Trench Forests from the eastern half. The X on their treasure map lay much deeper, across the river, near the Skadi cliffs. They’d gathered enough information to avoid every known creature on this side, but beyond the river the records went blank—only unmarked terrain and the sea beyond. 

“I’m not flying you two over the river,” Mikael said.

He wasn’t supposed to; he’d only fly the rope across so they could build a bridge. But the girls listed “flying” in every plan just to get a rise out of him. Akira and Fia snickered, though Akira’s laugh didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Three days later, she told them she didn’t want to go into the Trench Forests. They were having lunch at a small eatery near the inn.

Akira pushed the vibrant sautéed flowers around her plate. “Growing up, I never had the luxury of spontaneity or adventure. You two are so…”

“Reckless,” said Mikael.

“Brave,” said Akira. “It’s what I love about you—it’s why I joined this little family. But I’m not ready for that forest. And I don’t know if I miss home as much as you do…” She looked at Fia. “You’re the navigator.” Then at Mikael. “And you’re the one who flies over rivers. You don’t really need me.”

Silence followed.

“It’s okay,” Mikael said at last. “You don’t have to go.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Of course not. It’s a long, stressful trip. You don’t have to go.”

“Fia?” Akira asked quietly.

Fia looked at Mikael, then back at her. “What he said.”

“Can we do it on our own?” Mikael asked.

Fia thought a moment. “I think so.” She hesitated. “Are you leaving us?”

“No, no,” said Akira quickly. “I’ll visit the Capital and be back in a few weeks to get you guys. Then you can tell me everything. I’ll even go to Skadi and Dry Lands if you end up going there.”

Silence again.

“Sounds like a plan,” Mikael said, then lightly smacked the back of Fia’s head. “Stop making that face; you’re being unfair.”

“I’m not! I’m just thinking if I’ve missed something.”

“Think, think, think,” he teased and shoveled greens and a pink flower into his mouth. “We’re not leaving tomorrow. We’ve got time.”

“Yeah,” Fia said. “I’ll go over the route again.”

Akira smiled at Mikael.

“I really hate you right now,” Fia said.

Akira chuckled. “No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” Fia drawled.

Akira grinned. “I’ll bring you something nice from the Capital!”

The next day, Fia confirmed they could handle the journey without a third person—and added cheekily that it might even be easier since Mikael would only have to carry one passenger.

Three days later, they said goodbye to Art. That night they camped on the outskirts of the forest. At dawn, Akira left for the Capital, promising to return in three to four weeks. The thought that she might run into Noah crossed all their minds, but none of them said it aloud.