Pablo woke with the first threads of sunlight seeping through the inn's window.
The golden light touched his face gently. He got out of bed. Stretched. Felt his body rested after a peaceful night's sleep on a soft bed. This was his last night in Vertus.
He washed his face with cold water from the pitcher on the nightstand. Put on his simple black clothes. Tucked his pistol under his belt. Sling his bag over his shoulder.
He descended the wooden stairs. Paid for the room to the innkeeper. Went out into the morning streets of Vertus.
The air was fresh. The sun was still low. People were beginning to move in the markets. The sll of fresh bread wafted from the bakeries.
"First: breakfast," Pablo said to himself.
---
He walked towards the small café he had seen yesterday. It was located on the corner of a quiet street, its facade old wood, and small tables on the sidewalk. Sitting outside was pleasant in this nice weather.
He sat down. A young waiter approached, smiling.
"Good morning. What would you like?"
"Breakfast," said Pablo. "I want honey pancakes. Fresh fruit. And hot tea."
"Do you want eggs or cheese?"
"No. Just what I said."
The waiter left. Returned after minutes carrying a large tray.
There were three pancakes, golden in color, crispy, with the scent of butter and honey rising from them. The honey dripped slowly down their sides. The fresh fruit was varied: bright red strawberries, golden orange slices, and purple grapes. And hot tea in a small clay pot.
Pablo started with the pancakes first. Cut a small piece with his fork. Dipped it in the honey. Put it in his mouth.
It was soft, sweet, warm. The honey was natural, thick, rich in flavor. He closed his eyes for a mont as he chewed.
Then he ate the fruit. The strawberries were slightly sour but delicious. The oranges were sweet and juicy. The grapes popped in his mouth.
He drank the tea hot. It was light, aromatic, soothing to the throat.
He was not in a hurry. He enjoyed every bite. Every sip.
When he finished, he left a large tip. Thanked the waiter. Then stood up.
"Now: supplies," he said.
---
He headed to the food market in the heart of the city. The market was crowded at this ti of morning. Vendors called out to their goods. Won inspected vegetables and fruits. The sll of spices and herbs filled the place.
Pablo wandered among the stalls. He was looking for sothing specific: food that wouldn't spoil quickly. Food he could carry in his bag for days.
He stopped at the dried at vendors. There were various types: dried beef, dried mutton, and dried poultry. He bought quantities of each type. The at was cut into thin slices, slightly salted, and dried under the sun. It would remain edible for weeks.
He stopped at the nut vendor. Bought almonds, walnuts, cashews, and hazelnuts. All lightly roasted, salty, and crunchy.
He stopped at the dried fruit vendor. Bought dates, dried figs, and dried apricots. They were sweet, sticky, and full of energy.
He stopped at the bread vendor. Bought loaves of dry bread, made specifically for long journeys. They were hard, but they wouldn't spoil.
Finally, he bought large bottles of water. He needed water more than anything else.
He put everything in his bag. It beca very heavy. But he was used to carrying.
He left the market. He was ready to leave.
---
He moved away from people's sight.
He walked outside the city, towards the rocky cliff where he had landed two days earlier. The place was empty. No one.
He looked at the sky.
After monts, the cloud moved from among the high clouds. It descended gradually. It was dark gray, dense, its dinsions three by three ters. It had been waiting for him there.
The cloud landed beside him. He jumped on it gracefully. It swayed slightly under the weight of the bag. But it held.
He stood on it. Looked at Vertus for the last ti.
It was beautiful under the morning light. White buildings, red roofs, blue sea. People were starting their day. Sailors raised their ships' anchors.
He would not return here soon. Perhaps never.
But he did not grieve. It was not ti for grief.
"To the west," he said in a low voice.
He signaled. The cloud moved. Set off towards Perfu Island.
---
The journey took a week.
A week of isolation in the sky. A week of reading. A week of dried at, nuts, and dried fruit. A week of searching for rocks to sleep on.
The journey was not as difficult as the previous one. He had gotten used to the boredom. Used to the books. Used to sleeping on cold stone.
He read a book about the history of the South Blue. It was enjoyable. He learned new things about ancient kingdoms that had collapsed, and about legendary pirates who sailed these waters generations ago.
On the seventh day, he saw land.
---
Perfu Island.
It was green. Very green. Dense forests covered the hills. Colorful flowers adorned the plains. And from afar, even before he landed, he slled the scent of flowers.
It was a fragrant, light scent, filling the air. A mix of rose, jasmine, and lavender. The scent was so strong he felt as if he were inhaling liquid perfu.
"This is it," he said.
He raised his cloud high. Hid it among the white clouds. Jumped to the ground. Landed in a flower field on the outskirts of the city.
He inhaled deeply. The scent was enchanting.
"What a place," he murmured.
He walked towards the city.
---
Perfu Island was quiet.
It wasn't as crowded as Vertus. It didn't have a large port, nor Navy soldiers on every corner. Just small white houses, cobblestone streets, and people smiling at each other.
Pablo felt relaxed imdiately upon arrival. No conflicts. No threats. No plans. Just him and this fragrant island.
He rented a room in a small inn. Took off his heavy bag. Sat on the bed for a while. Then went out to wander.
The first day was for exploration.
He walked through the city streets. Bought fresh bread from a small bakery. Bought a strange fruit he had never seen before from a street vendor. Sat in a small café, drank plain black coffee, and watched the people.
He entered a small shop on the corner of a quiet street. The walls were covered with wooden shelves, holding hundreds of small bottles. Different colors, different sizes, different scents.
The vendor was an old man, with a thick white beard, and bright blue eyes.
"Welco to our island," he said in a warm voice. "Are you looking for sothing special?"
"I want perfus," said Pablo. "Your best."
The old man smiled. "We have many. But let ask you: for whom is the perfu?"
"For myself."
The old man understood. "Then let guide you."
He began explaining. This one had a woody scent, strong, suitable for n who like boldness. This one had a citrus scent, refreshing, suitable for the young. This one had a floral scent, soft, but not too feminine.
Pablo listened. Tried so of the bottles. Put a drop on his wrist, slled, decided.
He bought three bottles. One with a strong woody scent. One with a refreshing citrus scent. And one with a strange scent combining amber and tobacco.
He paid a high price. And felt he had been cheated, but he didn't care. The perfu was good.
On the second day, he wandered more.
He visited the flower fields outside the city. They stretched as far as the eye could see. Purple lavender flowers, red roses, white jasmine. Bees buzzed among them. Butterflies fluttered.
He sat on a small hill. Looked at the fields. At the blue sky. At the white clouds.
He took out his small notebook. Wrote:
"Perfu Island: very beautiful. The scent is indescribable. The people are kind. The perfus are wonderful. I will return soday if the opportunity arises."
He put the notebook in his pocket.
In the evening, he had a light dinner at a small seaside restaurant. Grilled fish, rice, and green salad. And cold white wine. The food was simple but delicious.
He walked on the beach after dinner. The sand was white and soft. The waves were calm. The moon was full, lighting the sea with liquid silver.
He thought about tomorrow. About his journey.
He needed to decide his next destination.
---
He returned to the inn. Sat on the bed. Took out the map.
He spread it before him. The lamplight was dim, but it was enough.
He contemplated the map. He had several options. But his eyes stopped at an island that was relatively far, yet he wanted to go there.
Its na: Thorn Island.
It was not an ordinary island. It was not peaceful like Vertus or Perfu Island. It was famous for one thing: lawlessness.
There was no Navy there. It was teeming with pirates, bounty hunters, arms dealers, and fugitive criminals. It was not an island for the weak.
Pablo decided to go there.
He didn't need anything specific there. He wasn't looking for a fight or a deal. He just wanted to see. He wanted to know what lawless places looked like. How people lived there. How the pirates managed their affairs.
He placed his finger on Thorn Island on the map. Then drew an imaginary line from Perfu Island to it.
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