They had already traveled a long way.
The final stretch had been a slow, exhausting trek through flattened cities of tombs and the ancient strata beneath the foundations of the Imperial Palace.
They had seen many strange sights, wonders wrought by collapse, and astonishing ruins.
Had Oll Persson been so inclined, he might have lingered in those places.
But he had not.
Ollanius Persson did not want to linger and waste time on memories.
He had to reach the palace and see the Emperor.
This was the longest, most mysterious journey of his life, a life spanning at least forty-five thousand years, and he wanted to finish it.
Besides, Ollanius Persson could feel something indescribable stalking them.
It had pursued them ever since they left Calth, and something in the darkness was drawing closer.
He could feel it in his old bones.
Its pursuit made the Ritual Dagger in his hand tremble.
Although he silently quickened his pace once again, Ollanius Persson still could not keep his thoughts from wandering.
He had been a farmer when he set out, but that life of cultivation, labor, and peace had been only a brief interlude.
He had to admit it was his favorite, the best of all the fragments that made up his history.
Yet it was only a tiny island in the vast archipelago of his experiences.
He had played many roles, doing whatever he could.
Soldier, scholar, husband, coward, pacifist, parent, navigator, ruler, friend... he had even been Warmaster, the first person in history to hold that title.
More importantly, though, his favorite role had been that of a navigator.
A sailor, a seafarer, a traveler, a wanderer.
He knew the boundless wonders of a life at sea, and he understood that the sweetest part of any journey was always