Flynn's ongoing stint as an Imperial Knight allowed him to learn more about himself in ways he had never imagined. He discovered that he was a very meticulous, calculating man when under pressure— while the other soldiers in his brigade were reduced to primal instinct and adrenaline in the face of combat, Flynn was able to keep his cool, using strategy to win a battle rather than the gamble of might. Tight situations perturbed him, certainly, but he was able to step back and analyze things with a clear, collected mind, a trait that was obviously lost between his peers.

… Which was why Flynn was hunched over an impromptu table in a room in Zaude, attentively drawing circles and lines over a large map of the Inner Ocean. Brave Vesperia left the shrine hours beforehand, led by Raven, who, outwardly, was the only composed one in the group. Estelle had been sobbing for hours, Rita paced in circles until the soles of her shoes gave in, Judith simply stayed silent, and Karol began to yell at the ocean to bring his friend back. It was in their best interest to go home, and it was now Flynn's duty to continue the search for Yuri Lowell.

Though Sodia's heavy steps promptly filled the room with sound, Flynn was unmoved. His second-in-command had grown used to this new, stoic, unaffected man over the past few days and learned to speak without being formally addressed, taking the liberty to address important issues on her own. "Commandant," she remarked, still familiarizing herself with how the title felt on her tongue— how long had she waited to call him that? Flynn did not budge in respect to her presence; instead, he drew a red line on the map.

"Forgive me if I'm mistaken, sir, but … it would be in the Knights' best interest to return to land," she continued, trying her hardest not to falter. "It has been three days, and our rations have already been cut dry, and …"

"By all means, prepare the ship for departure." Flynn drew another red line; this time, with a hint of vexation. "I will not be leaving, however."

Sodia flinched, but only on the surface—a part of her knew that she would receive such an answer. It almost pained her to see her commander's loyalty in action; Yuri Lowell was gone, either due to his injury or due to the ocean, or maybe a combination of both, but Flynn still traded hours of sleep for hours of deliberating search routes and strategies.

"If you choose to stay, Sir, I will stay with you," she said, confident for the first time in days. Flynn turned and smiled at her, a gesture that she knew translated to I'm sorry I've been on edge, and I'll find him soon, I swear.

She gathered herself and turned to leave, but stopped short at the swelling sound of a chuckle. Flynn was suddenly laughing, holding his sides as he tried to catch his breath, and Sodia couldn't help but to question his sanity. Did he already break?

"You know, when we were kids," Flynn began, covering his mouth, "Yuri would always disappear. Would always leave. And everyone would spend hours and hours searching every nook and cranny for him, even though he would run away to the same place every damn time."

Sodia bit her lip. This was becoming too much, but she couldn't help but to entertain him. "… Where would he go?"

"The ocean. He would grab his wooden sword and venture out to the shore and just sit there with Repede and watch the waves for hours." Flynn was still laughing, but his face was suddenly somber. "Isn't it funny how history repeats itself? Here I am, searching for him, hoping that he'll turn up at the shore again."

It was funny, in a way. Sodia had finally gotten what she really wanted— a heart-to-heart, a moment of vulnerability with the man she admired the most— but in the end, it was more bitter than it was sweet.

The sky above Zaude was one of the clearest firmaments he had ever seen, fully complete with deep blues and purples and subtle golden hues— nothing like the dull, gray sky above Zaphias. Flynn felt a pang of guilt, standing on the same platform where his best friend disappeared and his superior was crushed to death, turned into nothingness, but the air inside of the shrine tasted of a stagnancy and sadness he could breathe no longer. He looked down, carefully eyeing the waves, and that was when he heard the footsteps.

They were light and fleeting, yet ominous—nothing like those of a lost soldier who had been left behind. Flynn was raising his blade above its sheath, readying himself to attack if need be, when the steps stopped just as quickly as they began.

Quickly turning his head, he was greeted by the sight of a tall man standing at the other side of the platform with flowing gray hair, red eyes, and a rather rigid frown. He did not appear to be too much of a threat, but Flynn's analysis was preliminary at most—here, nothing was what it seemed to be. He was devoid of a weapon, however; instead of a sword, he held a bundle of white cloth in his hands.

Flynn's voice was raw, but he still managed to shout. "Are you one of Zaude's endless mysteries, or do you have a reason for appearing before me?" The man stared at Flynn, eyes fervent and impassioned, yet his attention seemed to be elsewhere.

"… My name is Duke Pantarei," he answered, his voice rich and heavy with languor. The bags under his eyes mimicked Flynn's, and the knight wondered if anyone on this damned island had been blessed with sleep.

"And what exactly brings you here?" Or more importantly, to me? Flynn was more curious than he was intimidated at this point, and for good reason: the Enduring Shrine of Zaude was not a tourist attraction, nor was it listed on any map in the Empire. There were only supposed to be three groups here: those who were loyal to Yuri, those who were loyal to Flynn, and those who were loyal to Alexei. … Which group did Duke belong to?

For the first time in minutes, the other man flashed what could have been interpreted as a smile. "I believe I have something that you have been … searching for," he mused, eyes travelling downward, and Flynn followed his gaze until they were both staring at the covered bundle in the other man's arms. Whatever Duke was carrying seemed large, heavy, and wet, and— well, shit.

Flynn was a very meticulous, calculating man under pressure, but calculations be dammed— he was suddenly sprinting towards Duke at breakneck speeds, almost tripping over his own boots in the process. The gray-haired man was unperturbed and relaxed as he set the bundle down, taking two steps back to distance himself from the frantic knight. Flynn fell to his knees and tugged at the discolored material, pulling it away until he saw the top of a head, and then a face, and then a body.

And there he was— unconscious, cold, and alive. His clothes were torn and tattered, stuck to his skin like glue; his breathing was harsh and irregular, coming in and out like broken radio waves. His shirt was partially raised, revealing his torso, which was intricately wrapped with what seemed to be an improvised compress. Blood protruded from below his ribcage, and it looked oddly fresh. Flynn wasn't sure if he should puke or cry.

"I lent Yuri a keepsake of mine, a short while ago," Duke admitted, arms crossed, "And I couldn't afford to have it lost to the sea." He walked closer to the edge, his attire moving with the wind. "And while I am in need of the weapon, I believe that the man … belongs to you."

There were a few more footsteps and then the only things around Flynn were Yuri's unconscious figure and the deep blues and purples of the Inner Ocean's sky. Four in the morning and Flynn was seeing stars, though he was quite certain he wasn't dreaming. Yuri wouldn't have looked so lifeless if he was.

(A/N): This is my first fic with multiple chapters, but I have a lot of ideas when it comes to the plot, so things should go smoothly. I hope everyone enjoys!