Chapter 113| Until Next Time, Old Friend
Halden’s departure arrived on the ninth morning, considerably sooner than any of them would have preferred, though the reality of an entire nation’s Hunter Association still requiring his attention made further delay genuinely impossible.
"Duty calls, unfortunately," he said, standing at the dock with his single, unassuming bag once more slung over his shoulder, looking considerably more reluctant to leave than his composed, measured tone suggested. "Though I confess, this is the first time in considerable years I’ve genuinely resented the responsibilities waiting for me back home."
"You could extend," Irene suggested, only half-joking. "I’m sure the Association can survive another week without you."
"Tempting," Halden admitted, a rueful smile touching his weathered features. "But I suspect even my considerable authority has limits, and several pending diplomatic matters following the summit attack require my direct, immediate attention rather than continued indulgence in undignified jet ski races."
Allen extended his hand, and Halden pulled him instead into a firm, genuine embrace, the kind that carried considerably more weight than simple professional courtesy typically allowed.
"Thank you," Allen said quietly, "for all of this. Not just the trip. Everything, since the very beginning."
"You’ve more than earned it," Halden said, pulling back to study him with warm, paternal affection. "All of you have. I meant what I said the other evening, Allen — watching you build what you’ve built has been one of the genuine privileges of my considerable career."
He turned to each of the wives in turn, offering warm, individual farewells — a firm, respectful handshake for Myria, accompanied by genuine praise for her strategic mind; a delighted, easy hug for Irene, who returned it with characteristic, enthusiastic warmth; a gentle, grateful clasp of Everlyn’s hands, thanking her for the quiet, patient wisdom she’d offered throughout the trip; a final, warm exchange with Vivian, who surprised him with her own quiet, sincere gratitude for his genuine, unguarded company.
"You should all know," Halden said, addressing the entire group one final time before boarding his waiting seaplane, "that whatever challenges still await you — this Emperor crisis, the conspiracy behind the summit attack, whatever else this considerable world still demands of you — you have my complete, unwavering support. Not simply as Association chairman. As someone who genuinely considers all of you family now."
"We know," Allen said, throat tight with quiet, overwhelming gratitude. "And the feeling’s entirely mutual."
Halden’s answering smile carried the full, weathered warmth of a man who’d found, quite unexpectedly, exactly the kind of family connection his own considerable years of professional responsibility had never quite permitted him space to properly cultivate.
"Until next time, then," he said, boarding the seaplane with visible, genuine reluctance. "And Allen — do try to keep the flying to controlled circumstances, at least until you’ve had considerably more practice. I’d rather not receive a report about my favorite Hunter accidentally combusting himself over open water."
"No promises," Allen said, grinning despite the melancholy settling over the farewell, and the group watched Halden’s seaplane lift steadily off the water’s surface, banking once in a final, warm gesture of farewell before disappearing entirely toward the distant, hazy horizon.
---
The island felt noticeably quieter in Halden’s absence, though the remaining days of their trip carried their own particular, gentle warmth — Allen spending considerable time practicing his newfound flight capability under Myria’s careful, methodical supervision, gradually extending both duration and control until he could manage several minutes of sustained, stable hovering without the earlier, undignified wobbling that had accompanied his first attempts.
"You’re improving considerably," Myria observed, watching him execute a smooth, controlled descent onto the beach’s soft sand. "Though I’d still recommend against attempting anything genuinely ambitious until we’ve properly stress-tested the ability’s limits."
"Duly noted, Coach," Allen said, grinning as he landed, exhaustion and exhilaration mingling in equal measure.
That evening, gathered around the villa’s private dinner table without Halden’s warm, familiar presence for the first time in nearly a week, the group settled into quieter, more reflective conversation, the accumulated weight of everything still waiting beyond the island’s protective isolation beginning, gently, to reassert itself.
"We go home in two days," Vivian observed, turning her wine glass thoughtfully between her fingers.
"Back to everything," Everlyn added, though her tone carried more grateful acceptance than genuine reluctance. "S+ rank promotion. Whatever’s still developing with the Emperor crisis. The conspiracy behind the summit attack."
"And Hegeville," Allen said quietly, an old, familiar warmth settling in his chest at the mention. "I’ve been thinking about that a lot, actually. About what it might look like to properly invest in that place, the way this system’s always rewarded me for investing in all of you."
Myria’s sharp eyes settled on him with immediate, focused interest. "Go on."
"It’s still full of people the rest of the world discarded," Allen said slowly, the shape of an idea he’d been quietly turning over for weeks finally beginning to take clearer form. "The same way we were discarded. I keep thinking — what if we didn’t just leave it behind, now that we’ve outgrown it? What if we turned it into something considerable instead? A place that actually takes care of the people the rest of this world decided weren’t worth the investment."
The table fell into thoughtful, considering silence, and Allen watched his wives absorb the idea with visible, growing interest.
"That’s an ambitious undertaking," Myria said finally, though her tone carried genuine, strategic engagement rather than dismissal. "But not an unreasonable one, given our current resources and standing."
"I like it," Irene said firmly. "A lot, actually. Turning the place that tried to bury us into something worth genuinely celebrating instead? That’s exactly the kind of poetic justice I can get behind."
Everlyn’s answering smile carried warm, unguarded enthusiasm. "I’d like that too," she said. "Building something that actually lasts, rather than simply surviving what the world hands us."
Vivian reached for Allen’s hand, quiet certainty settling behind her restored, thoughtful gaze. "Then that’s what we do," she said. "Once we’re home, once the immediate crises settle into something manageable. We build Hegeville into whatever it deserves to become."
Allen felt the shape of the idea settle firmly, permanently into place alongside everything else this remarkable week had already given him — rest, renewed strength, a family bond deepened considerably beyond even its already formidable foundation — and found himself, for the first time in longer than he cared to admit, genuinely looking forward to whatever considerable challenges still waited for them back home.