Chapter 3

Upon hearing his best friend's name, a friend whose death Travers had long since made amends with, Travers had slipped into a daze-like state, memories flying through his mind.

“Pardon me, sir,” he said to the fisherman, waking up and attempting at holding his breath as the aroma of fish was overpowering. “Did…did you just say Anthony Halliday?”

“Aye, I did,” the old man said, eying Travers intently with the eye that wasn’t being covered by the patch. “Yeh know deh name?”

Travers swallowed hard before answering. “Yes, sir. Halliday was my best friend.”

“War ain’t no time for friends,” the man scoffed, blowing smoke out of his pipe.

“I-I know, sir. Could you tell me where you heard that he…that he may still be alive?” Travers asked shakily.

“Why?” the man asked him, rubbing his moustache thoughtfully.

“I…” Travers cleared his throat. “I want to go find him.”

The fisherman laughed, but Travers maintained a serious face. “Well then, yer crazy. Nobody goes into Dalp territory without a deathwish, sonny.”

“Until just now, sir, I believed him to be dead alongside all others whom I had cared for. Let Flid kill me if Halliday is in fact dead.”

The End

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