Lone Blind Star - Chapter 6: Lighthouse Memory
Finally reaching Lighthouse Peak, Cecilia and Ingram seek a method to reach Lost Island that ends in a "firework" show.
Originally a coastal fishing village, Lighthouse Peak rapidly transformed into a trading hub after the lighthouse was built. Nestled atop a basalt outcrop, it stood silent and solemn overlooking the bay as it flourished. Today, it is a bustling port city with trade routes connecting to places across the ocean. Early morning meant dinner shopping, so the sidewalks bustled with people on their way to market.
"This is it," Ingram muttered. He parked the car in front of a restaurant a block away from the hotel and off the main street. "This should be outta the way enough. Keep your head down. Be right back."
Cecilia grabbed his arm before he could leave. "I'm coming with you."
Ingram sighed. "That black hair of yours may disguise you from far away, but up close those eyes're too obvious for the city. Jus' stay here." Her grip tightened around him. She didn't say anything, but the look in her eyes spoke of fear. Was she afraid he was going to leave her behind? He grumbled and said, "Okay, okay. Pull your hood tight and keep close. Don't talk to anyone, don't make eye contact with anyone. Ya hear me, Sunshine?"
"Hmph. I'm not a child." Now wasn't the time to be haughty but she couldn't help it. After what happened in the village, she felt like she had earned a modicum of respect, that he should at least treat her as an equal. But in the past couple days he had demonstrated the opposite, as if she didn't know anything. She felt like a burden.
He held her hand as they entered the hotel foyer. She was fully intent on keeping her eyes glued to the floor but the luxurious stone tiled flooring sparked curiosity. She gazed in awe at the white paneled walls adorned with floral wallpaper, the towering potted palms in the halls, and the impeccably uniformed staff. She had no idea such extravagant buildings existed outside noble hands. It almost felt like she was back at the palace. She tightened her hood as her eyes fixated on a group of men at the bar, their tailcoats and top hats marking their status. Suddenly, the foyer felt too long a room to traverse comfortably.
"It's okay," Ingram whispered, squeezing her hand in an attempt to comfort her. They arrived at the front desk where the clerk seemed to recognize Ingram.
"How may I help you, sir?"
"Any mail for me?"
"A moment." The clerk kneeled to grab something from under the counter and presented Ingram with a scribbled note.
Turning and stepping away from the front desk, Ingram quickly scanned the note before eating it.
"Hey!" Cecilia hissed as she pulled his hand away, but it was too late. She watched with wide eyes as he made a show of swallowing the piece of paper. "That's disgusting."
"Done dirtier and you know it," he said, almost proud.
"What was on the note?" she asked.
"Meeting time and place." He pointed to his temple and continued, "Don't worry, Sunshine. I'll remember. Until then, we've some time to kill. Let's ditch the car and lay low."
"Why can't we bring our supplies with us? They were given to us by the villagers. I feel bad just throwing them away."
"We won't be throwin' them away—we'll be giving them away."
"Huh?"
At the base of the lighthouse's basalt mound, a red-painted orphanage stood surrounded by a massive yard of grass.
Ingram drove up the dirt and gravel driveway, pulling over just short of the orphanage's white painted gate. Children poured out excitedly to greet them.
"Do you frequent this orphanage? The children seem to know you."
"I do," Ingram replied. He turned off the car and rolled down the window. "Hey, kid," he said, leaning halfway out, "go and get Antigone. Tell 'er I got somethin' for 'er." He watched as the kid scrambled back to the house. He quickly came back with a tall, fair woman with brown hair wearing a purple floral dress.
"Hey, Ironsights," the woman greeted as she leaned against the car. "You're late."
"I know, I know."
"You already check the mailman?"
"Meetin' him tonight."
"So what're you here for?"
Ingram gestured behind him. "Droppin' off some stuff for ya."
The woman let out a long whistle of awe. "What's all that? Food, medical supplies, blankets?" The woman's eyes inspected the stuff in the back, listing off as she went, until finally falling on Cecilia. "Who's she?"
Cecilia shared a glance with Ingram, asking him with her eyes if the woman was trustworthy.
"Sunshine, this is my colleague of sorts, Antigone. Antigone, this is... my friend, Cecilia."
Antigone froze. "Cecilia?" she repeated. "Isn't that the name of the missing crown princess...?" She narrowed her eyes, inspecting the woman. She turned to Ingram and said, "You owe me an explanation."
Ingram held his hands up defensively. "Figured that out quick! I promise I'll explain. Jus' help me bring in the goods first and lemme ditch the car."
After lunch, Antigone sent the children outside to run around in the sun, allowing the adults some time alone. She served some tea and sat glued to her seat as she listened to Ingram fill her in on the past couple weeks.
"You're insane," she said.
Ingram sighed and combed through his hair with his fingers. "I know," he groaned. "I admit, I've been rather impulsive lately."
Antigone turned to Cecilia, scowling at her. "And you. Do you have any idea how your selfish actions have put Ingram in a tight spot? You're the crown princess, so surely you should have a clue about the consequences of your actions? Otherwise, I'm seriously concerned for the future of this country."
Ingram held an arm out in front of Cecilia, who had instinctively withdrawn from the table. "Now, hold on, Antigone. It ain't her fault. You know, I've had a ton of chances to ditch the girl."
"You're not the type to leave behind someone in need. She's taking advantage of you."
"Didn't have to take her along in the first place, did I?"
Antigone crossed her arms and let out a huff. "You're a dumbass on a whole other level. That princess may be naïve, but at least you should've known better."
"You're right," Ingram said, nodding. "It's all on me."
Cecilia stared up at Ingram, shocked he wasn't putting up more of an argument. In their time spent together, she didn't know him to give in so easily.
That afternoon, Antigone roped Ingram and Cecilia into helping out with chores. Ingram began with chopping wood, some of which he used to repair a couple of beds. Next, he marched to the edge of the property to fix a gap in the fence, a parade of excited children marching behind. He sat on a short painted stool, grass licking his bare ankles, as he got one kid to help hold a plank of wood in place.
"Right there. Hold it steady," he instructed. He removed a nail from his lips, held it in place, and hammered away. The children watched and played around him as he worked, comfortable with his presence. He got up for a stretch a few planks later, sparing a glance toward the house. He spotted Cecilia and Antigone by the laundry lines, chatting. He watched as they took down the laundry, all smiles as if the tension earlier didn't exist.
"I can't believe the crown princess is helping me with a mundane chore as laundry right now." Antigone shook her head in disbelief.
Cecilia smiled politely. "I don't mind at all. It's the least I can do for letting us stay with you. And for keeping quiet about, well, everything."
"The supplies you guys brought were more than enough for letting you guys stay for a day. And, to be honest, I wouldn't want to blab about you guys, anyway." Antigone looked up and over at Ingram across the large, grassy yard. He'd given up on his task of repairing the fence and was instead rolling around in the grass, playing with the kids. "Hera's going to get a kick out of hearing it, though."
"Hera?"
Antigone realised Ingram never told the girl and backpedaled. "Never mind that. I noticed there was a bottle of amontillado in the stuff you guys brought. It's no use here—I don't drink and the children certainly don't, either. Why don't you take it to Ingram and have some? Could be a nice apéritif while I get dinner ready." She spared another glance in Ingram's direction. "I think he's done working, anyway," she said with a smile.
By the time Cecilia came back out with the bottle of wine, Ingram had corralled a couple more kids into helping him fix the fence. It was clear which repairs were done by Ingram and which ones were done by the kids, as the former were straight and the latter were crooked. She thought there seemed to be more crooked repairs than straight ones at that point.
"Ingram?"
Ingram let out a surprised yelp. "You scared me!"
"Clearly."
"Came out at a good time." He wiped the sweat from his brow. "Just finished."
Cecilia examined the repairs. "Not very well, I'd say."
"Pfft. What're you talkin' about? It's great!" He flashed a smug smile and then gestured toward the bottle of wine. "What's that for?"
"Antigone said we could keep the amontillado... so I was wondering if you would like to have some before dinner?"
He paused a moment, fighting the pull to just spend more time with her. "I would, but the kids—"
"It's getting cold. Come on, time to come in, kids!" Antigone's call cut through the wind.
All of a sudden, Ingram didn't have an excuse anymore. He smiled knowingly in his friend's direction. "Okay," he began, "I know a nice place where we can share a drink."
Ingram led Cecilia back to the building to fetch a couple blankets and drop off the toolbox. He told Antigone and the children they'd return soon, and led Cecilia up the path to the lighthouse. He pulled out a key as they approached and unlocked the door.
Cecilia looked around nervously. "Are we allowed to go in?"
"No worries," Ingram said, pulling her inside. He grabbed a couple folding chairs off the deck and continued through the lighthouse building. "Couple years ago, when the lighthouse became automatic, Antigone made a deal with the mayor's office to look after it. That's what the back shed behind the orphanage is for—spare parts."
They climbed up the spiral staircase in silence. The sound of ocean waves crashing against the basalt outside mixed with the echo of clanking of wine glasses like a song.
When they reached the top, Ingram set up the chairs by the railing and, with an exaggerated bow, invited Cecilia to sit first. She poured the wine and bundled up under her blanket, watching the sun set into the ocean.
"It's gettin' colder these days," Ingram observed. "Summer's endin'." He let out a deep sigh, watching the breath escape him in a little white cloud. "Ocean breeze ain't helpin'."
A few minutes passed in silence. Cecilia's gaze flitted between Ingram and the ocean and then back again. She downed her glass and took a deep breath. "I like you."
"I know."
"Huh?" His immediate reply bewildered her.
He turned to her with a little smile. "When we first met, you said you admired the thief from the papers."
"That's not..." She gave a little huff. "No, I can see how you would think that. It's true I've always liked you ever since reading about you. So that part is true. But since meeting you, spending time with you, my feelings have changed."
"You don't like me that way anymore?" he said with a grin.
"No! I mean, yes? I mean—" She took another deep breath. "I l—"
"Don't say it."
"But I—"
"Don't. Not yet. If you do, I can't pretend like I didn't hear something like that. We can't go back."
"I wouldn't want to go back, though."
"I need you to be sure, first."
"I'm pretty sure I'm already sure."
"Wait until we get to Lost Island. There's somethin' I need to show you. Then, if you haven't changed your mind, you can say whatever you want."
She didn't like how he thought he knew her feelings better than her. "When that time comes, promise you won't stop me?"
He laughed at her determination. He admired her for it. "Promise."
They stayed up there for a while longer until they finished the bottle of amontillado. When they were done and had enough, they packed up their stuff and headed back to the orphanage for dinner.
As the last of the sun's rays reached out from the ocean's rough waves, Ingram and Cecilia said goodbye to those at the orphanage. With full bellies and, for Cecilia, a newfound confidence, they walked down toward the city hand-in-hand.
They approached the upscale hotel from before, but found it now overrun by Royal Knights. Ingram pushed Cecilia into a nearby cafe as soon as he noticed their silly hats and capes.
"Ow! What was that for?"
"Shh. Don't make a scene." His voice rumbled low as he scanned the street. "Stay here. I'll be back."
Cecilia grabbed his arm and a sense of deja vu washed over both of them. But something felt different now. It was more dangerous, sure, but there was also a sense of importance between them. An unspoken feeling of understanding.
Ingram gently removed her hand. "You'll be all right," he soothed. He gave her a couple coins. "Buy somethin' so you don't look suspicious. Keep your head down. Blend in. I promise I'll be back for ya." He thumbed her tears away and kissed the top of her head.
"But will you be all right?"
He grinned. "Of course! Who d'you think I am?" He leaned in close to her ear. "The best gentleman thief in the country, right?" He matched her smile, said another goodbye, and slipped through the cafe doors.
Ingram took a roundabout path to the back of the hotel, where he climbed through an open back office window. He paced through the halls to the mail sorting office, where he hid behind a shelf of packages. He didn't have to wait long before his contact arrived, carrying a small stack of mail.
"Long time no see," Ingram greeted, revealing himself.
The mailman leaped to the side, dropping everything he was carrying. He then saw it was just Ingram and clicked his tongue. "Ingram Ironsights Clayton! What've ya done to get the Royal Guard to come down so heavily on my circle of friends?"
"Apologies, Maurin. I promise I'll be outta your hair in a minute."
"What ya want?"
"Transportation. Lost Island." Ingram shrugged. "The usual."
"Anythin' to get ya outta here." The mailman flipped through some papers behind the desk. "Got lucky this time. Had an inkling ya'd want out as soon as possible." He tossed over a set of keys. "Yer favorite boat. Bit'a supplies on 'ere too. Jus' to get ya through the night."
"For two?"
"Besides the ferryman? Course not. If ya got someone else wit ya then you're gonna hafta figure it out yourself. Don't got the time to add for one more. And don't forget to hand over the mail once you're there."
"Fine, fine. Thanks."
"You're still an idiot. Don't know what exactly you're doin', but it's borderline suicidal."
Ingram laughed. "That's basically what Antigone said."
"Good. She phoned and told me to expect ya. Worth it, though?"
Ingram smiled. "She is."
Business concluded, Ingram left the hotel the way he came. He rounded the corner onto the main street but immediately slunk back. He peeked around the corner to see Cecilia being escorted out of the cafe by a pair of Royal Knights. It didn't seem like they called for backup yet, so he needed to act fast.
The Royal Knight next to her tilted his head down, avoiding eye contact. "Your Royal Highness, I apologize if we were too rough with you earlier," he said. He gestured for her to sit on a chair outside the cafe.
"Watch her while I get Lord Harrington," the other knight said.
Cecilia's body tensed. Lord Leon Harrington? That awful man her father wanted her to marry. Her blood ran cold as she imagined going back to him and his wide smile. It was like the world spun around her. She squeezed her eyes shut. There was no way she was going back to him. She looked down at her twine-bound wrists and made a plan to draw blood and burn her way out of here.
She rubbed her wrists against the twine, gritting through the pain, until the sound of clanging metal made her pause. She turned around to see the Royal Knight who had just spoken to her now crumpled on the ground with Ingram leaning over him. "You came," she breathed.
Ingram pulled her to her feet and sliced through her binds. "We need to go."
"The other guard went to get Lord Harrington."
"I know," he replied. "The boat's waiting for us. Hurry up." He pulled her along as they sprinted down a nearby alley.
A few minutes later, the other Royal Knight returned with Lord Harrington and his retinue in tow. The knight paled when he realised the crown princess was gone.
"I apologize, Lord Harrington," the guard said, bowing a deep ninety degrees. "I should have brought her straight to you."
"You are certain it was her?"
"Yes, my lord. She had black hair, but her face was unmistakable."
Lord Harrington waved his hand dismissively. "Then you are forgiven. Ultimately, this is a good sign."
"My lord?"
"Don't you see? It means we were on the right track all along. They must still be in the city." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and grinned. "Blockade all land entrances, and close the port. The entire harbor must comply."
Ser Anjali, who had taken a backseat to the Lord Harrington's journey until now, stepped forward. "My lord, we don't have that kind of authority."
Lord Harrington glared at her, their shared gaze like steel. He reached for her face but Ser Claude stepped in, deflecting Lord Harrington's reach. Everyone around them went silent.
"Mind your manners, Lord Harrington," Ser Anjali mocked. "I thought a margrave's son would have known better."
The corner of Lord Harrington's mouth pulled into a lopsided frown. "I've had enough of your attitude on this trip."
"A shame we're on this mission together, then, isn't it?"
"Except I outrank you. And I don't trust you. You're coming with me to the harbor so I can keep an eye on you." He didn't wait for her reply before storming off.
When Lord Harrington was out of earshot, the Royal Knight from earlier approached Ser Anjali. "Excuse me, Ser?"
"Do you have something to report, Knight?"
"I was not sure whether to mention it or not, but it looked to me like Crown Princess Stella-Cecilia wasn't being held captive—like Lord Harrington and the others are saying."
Ser Anjali smiled sadly. "I thought that might be the case. Regardless, we have a duty to return Her Royal Highness to the palace, as ordered by His Majesty."
"Sorry, Ironsights. Can't help ya. Gotta move some fertilizer off the docks before the boss chews me out." The ferryman gestured to the commotion at the dock master's kiosk. "Besides, nobody's allowed in or out 'til the Lord Harrington says so, anyway."
Ingram clenched his jaw. "Fine," he spat. "We'll do it ourselves."
The ferryman shook his head. "Recommend against it, but if you'd like to... I won't be stoppin' ya." Rubbing the back of his neck, the ferryman meandered back down the pier.
"Let's go, Sunshine." There was something about his tone of voice that scared Cecilia, a desperateness she wasn't sure of.
She followed him across the harbor as they walked against the crowd. Everyone else seemed to be heading inwards. They passed several smaller vessels until Ingram finally climbed into a decently sized sailing yacht. "This one?" she mumbled.
"Don't let the sail fool ya. It's got a fire crystal engine." Ingram's voice faded as he walked off below deck. Cecilia continued to follow him, watching him as he figured his way around the engine.
"Do you know what you're doing?"
"Sure. It ain't that hard. Just gotta... light it up, give it some time, and it'll get goin'." He put on confident airs but he wasn't so sure himself. "Gotta find something to light it with..." he mumbled and then shot Cecilia a firm look. "No."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were thinkin' of using your fire magic again, weren't ya?"
"I was not."
"Really?"
"I swear."
"Good. Help me look for the matches. They gotta be somewhere on this thing."
They spent a good thirty minutes upending much of the little boat until Ingram finally found a tin of waterproof matches in the first aid kit. "Yes! Found 'em."
"How long does it take for the engine to heat up?" Cecilia asked.
"A bit, but not too long. Why?"
"The Royal Guard just arrived."
Ingram peeked above deck just enough to spot a small platoon of knights on horseback parade through the harbor gates. "Shit." He ducked below and frantically struck a match, but it snapped in two. "Shit!"
"What's wrong?" Cecilia asked, leaning over the railing to peer down at him. He didn't need to answer, though. She saw his hands shake as he repeatedly struck again and again. A small pile of broken matches scattered around his feet. She carefully descended the steps and reached for his hands, kissing them. "Ingram, it's all right."
"Like hell it is!" he growled, tossing the tin of matches to the ground. "Those knights are here and I can't light a fuckin' match to get us outta here."
Cecilia was taken aback. She had never seen him like this before. Where had the confident Ingram she knew gone? "Does this have to do with what I wanted to say at the lighthouse?" she ventured.
He replied with a look that told her all she needed to know.
"We'll make it to Lost Island, and you'll show me what you want to show me." She picked up the half empty tin and placed it within his hands. "I'll confess what I want to say, and you'll answer," she said, rubbing the back of his palm with her thumb. "Keep trying. I'll go bide us some time."
He grabbed her wrist. "You ain't goin' out there alone. It's too risky."
She placed her hand atop his, gently pushing it away. "Don't worry. I have a plan. And I'll stick to the shadows."
He let her go.
Cecilia returned to the dock and carefully ran its length, searching for the ferryman from earlier. When at last she spotted him unloading cargo from a shipping vessel, she grabbed him by his shirt collar and pulled him behind a stack of barrels.
"Who—? It's you! Ironsights send you? I already told ya I'm not—"
She gestured for him to quiet. "Shh! He didn't send me. I need your help."
"Whatever it is, it's gonna cost ya."
Cecilia pulled out a piece of jewelry from her side satchel. "Will this be enough?"
The ferryman immediately pocketed the jewelry and said with a smile, "What'cha need?"
"You said you were unloading fertilizer earlier."
"Yeah? And?"
"Is that the stuff over there?" She pointed at the cargo the ferryman was stacking on the docks nearby.
"It is."
She examined the ship. Looked empty. "Is there anyone else on board?"
"Nah. They all took off without me. Lousy sacks o' shit."
"Good. I want you to help clear the area. Make sure no one comes near."
"Why?"
"I'm going to light it up."
Back in the boat, Ingram had managed to light a match and get the fire crystal engine going. Enough time had passed that the small yacht was ready to set sail, but Cecilia had not returned. He climbed up on deck and glared into the darkness. Normally bustling, the dock was dimmed by the harbor shutdown, leaving only the distant lights of sailor pubs and shipping offices visible.
Ingram blinked and for a split second it was daytime. A second later, a gust of wind whipped his hair around as the light quickly faded into a massive fire at the opposite end of the harbor. At least three boats were on fire, a section of the pier was obliterated, and flaming debris smoldered atop several wooden office buildings. A dark figure came sprinting down the dock towards him and he felt his body tense, until he heard her shouting.
"Is the boat ready?"
"Huh?" He was still in awe over the explosion.
"The fire crystal engine. Is it ready?"
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, of course."
"Let's go."
"Was that you?" Ingram gestured as he adjusted the mainsail.
"The ferryman helped."
"How?"
"He made sure the area was clear of people."
"Oh yeah? How'd you convince him to do that?"
"A ring."
Ingram chuckled. "He has no idea who you are. The moment he sells that, the Royal Knights'll come down on him."
"Oh. Should I have suggested he sell it to someone he trusts? He's a part of your... network or something like that, right?"
"Nah. There'll always be more ferrymen."
Cecilia watched from afar as the Royal Knights preoccupied themselves with salvaging what they could of the harbor. She was little proud of her work. Maybe Ingram was rubbing off on her more than she thought.
Gripping the helm, Ingram grinned. "Hold onto something." She barely managed to find a seat when he pulled a lever above him, opening several nozzles along the mast. The mainsail made a booming noise as it filled with hot air and the entire yacht lurched forward.
"You know how to navigate?" Cecilia asked, tapping her knee nervously.
"You think I'd wanna sail if I didn't know how?"
"Sorry. I just... I've never gone sailing after dark before."
"Trust me," he said.
"I do."
"Then, to Lost Island!" He pulled the lever further, and the boat surged into the darkness, and a chilly night fog.