Wilhelm, Maple Island.
Crowds of people knelt on the Yard, singing praises in unison to a merchant ship sailing away.
Creak—
A drunk stumbling out of the tavern shattered the mood. He swayed and hiccupped. "Who's getting such a grand send-off? The High King?"
"The Archbishop of the Lady of Wealth Church was just here," a tavern server whispered beside him.
"Oh. Then I'd better kneel too..."
The drunk muttered as he shuffled forward, then fell flat on his face. Numbed by drink, he felt no pain and began praying right there, his backside in the air.
A cloaked figure standing at the stern looked away from the shore and followed the rail toward the bow.
He raised his head. The sea breeze blew back his hood, revealing a shock of golden hair.
If Annan had been there, he would have cried out the man's name: Rainer.
He was Archbishop Valencia's disciple. In the dream Archbishop Valencia had created, he had caused Annan no end of trouble.
Three years had passed. He looked steadier now, his youthful arrogance gone. Even his golden hair had lost some of its brilliance.
After all, once a fledgling lost the Wings that sheltered it, it had to learn to fly on its own.
Rainer gazed at the open sea for a while, then turned and went back into the cabin.
He walked between the priests kneeling in prayer along the passageway and entered the largest room.
The room, once a Restaurant, had been turned into a church for Mass. Countless worshippers knelt on the wooden floor around several white-robed figures and one in gold at the center.
At the edge of the room stood another outsider in a cloak, as out of place as he was: a girl with neat, short, light-brown hair.