This is how, in the heart of a timeless nowhere-everywhere zone, the entire crew, friends and foes alike, settle in a routine that appears normal. They begin to attend to their daily activities as if they were home. Wait, home? It’s just that, after having been through such eventful times, confronting obstacles and having faced and survived incredible challenges, that state of peace Chloroph contemplates, is felt by all: the King leads the old Princess and her guards inside the hull for a rest. And before he has time to get in, the Monkeys take the lead and push him back out, signalling that from there on, they will take care of Spinostress and her companions.
Kings too need rest: suitable thrones are on demand: wouldn’t it be nice to sit on a throne where one leans forward, holding one’s forehead with one hand, elbow resting on the armchair? King Krackskull ponders. But there is no such throne on the Insatiable Princess, let alone a chair or a stool, and the corner where mast and bridge meet will have to do. There, King Krackskull sits, securing himself to the mast, in the most likely event that the ship unexpectedly dives, because that’s what ships travelling through high skies do, before taking a nap.
Captain Traumatic is merely concerned with counting the few remaining rum barrels hidden under part of the ship’s bridge. Now is the time for abstinence, now is the time for cherishing what is left and not indulge into a single drop of it for fear the adored and revered beverage becomes extinct along with its owner, this at least until the Captain gains certainty that more is on its way.
To be continued…