Kiriban for DarkQueenComeToKrynn / Krynn-Meridia, caught by Ralphy-Leone!

Final Hikari: …You know, this is just such a lovely coincidence. I'm not sure what to say.

Precis: …How could you not know what to say?! It's a disclaimer!

Final Hikari: Ashton is a fun character, but I didn't expect to write about him. XD Anyway! This is based off of Ex's timeline; there was plenty of the for the events of this oneshot to occur in that timeline, but I don't know about The Second Evolution's. I also don't know if Precis' Claude obsession is as scary in TSE, so I apologize for any small inconsistencies in the plot. -sweat drop-

Precis: …And?

Final Hikari: -smirk- Now, disclaim thyself.

Precis: -.- The Final Hikari doesn't own anything from Star Ocean: The Second Evolution or Star Ocean Ex.

Final Hikari: Hope you enjoy reading, Krynn! :D And congrats for catching it, Ralphy!

Conspiracy At Sea

Ashton Anchors, the (self-proclaimed) handsome and heroic swordsman, had started his morning favorably. The boat's rocking was just enough to give him (and the two dragons on his back) a good night's sleep. He was fresh and energetic the following morning. Needless to say, the first thing on his agenda was the check his beloved barrels.

They were tethered securely to the deck of the ship. He had wanted them in the cargo hold, but the crew had objected to wasting space on empty barrels. The horror of it all! He thought with a shudder. After paying for the larger percentage of the barrels' costs and dealing with the trouble of transporting them all, Claude C. Kenny had very little interest in arguing with the crew about where'd they be put for the trip.

Ashton had been undeterred in arguing with them, but they were getting ready to set sail, and the two dragons on his back had wanted dinner and promptly chopped on his backside to express their impatient displeasure. Not to mention the captain threatened to refuse them passage if they kept causing trouble.

The result was the end of the disagreement and the departure from the port, more or less, successfully.

When asked with snickers and smirks by the rest of the group if he'd only given up his argument because Creepy and Weepy had to 'bite his ass,' he defended himself saying it would have been inconvenient to Precis to prolong the delay. Of course Claude just shook his head tiredly and didn't correct him; there was no need, after all. Celine and Rena knew otherwise as soon as he launched into a lengthy, chivalric explanation.

He'd spent the remained of the day with his barrels, making sure they were safely in place and in proper order. The firmest, strongest barrels had to go on the bottom; though he had made an exception for the most expensive of them all, putting it on the front of the first row so it could be adequately protected.

The more fragile ones (apparently, the antique ones a sensible person would have long ago thrown out qualified as 'fragile') had be placed on the higher rows so there was less pressure on the wood. God forbid the wood got warped! It was hazardous enough to be transporting them over an ocean on the deck. The salt water could rust the precious metal…the seagulls…they could…they could…!

He didn't want to even thing to what the seagulls could do to them.

The somewhat ungodly amount of Fol in which it had robbed from Claude's wallet was nothing in comparison to the unrivaled pristine of his prized barrel; though there was no denying no one should pay as much as he made Claude pay for an empty husk of wood. …Not that such a thought could ever cross the mind of someone hopelessly obsessed with barrels, as Ashton Anchors was.

He strolled out on to the deck of the ship, yawning drowsily and stretching his arms. The salty sea air was fresher than what was in the port city they had departed from and the sun was bright and warm. Not to mention is cabin was right beside Precis'; what more could he have hoped for? It was a seemingly perfect day…however, as soon as his eyes settled on the middle barrel in the first layer, his positive impression of the trip instantly shattered.

When the sky had been a shade of bright pink that morning, he'd heard the crewmen reciting the phrase, "pink skies in morning, sailors take warning." He hadn't thought much of it, but it was glaringly obvious he should have. Seeing as the "pink skies at night, sailor's delight" saying had little merit on their last trip, he found it even more illogical than his companions found his borderline unhealthy barrel obsession.

Though in reality, there was nothing healthy about randomly dropping to ones knees and embracing a barrel in the form of the hug's neurotic cousin, the glomp.

Even at the distance of several feet, he could see something was amiss with his prized barrel. It was the most rare, precious, and expensive of the entire batch; and it had been defiled! He broke into a run, not so silently descending into his woe-is-me state of mind. He dropped to his knees in front of the barrel, staring in dismay at what marred its flawless wood, and howled his misery to the sky.

Precis Newman sighed disappointedly. It was still very early, still quite a while before breakfast, but she had been unable to find Claude. She was walking down a hallway lined with doors to the ship's passengers' cabins with her arms crossed when she heard an anguished, and sadly, familiar scream almost directly above her. She looked up and stared blankly, deciding on a whim to go investigate what had the local freak show all worked up.

She turned around and started toward the staircase that lead up to the deck, skipping cheerfully. It'd at least be something to do before Claude woke up, though she suspected he was already up; he had the habit of disappearing at dawn for several minutes. Apparently it had to do with an unusual device he possessed from his home called a "communicator."

She hadn't been able to get any details out of the rest of the group, but he apparently used it to attempt contacting his missing comrades. It was sad to think he'd become isolated from whoever these comrades were, but twice as frustrating for her since no one would give her any information. The device was probably broken; if they'd just be truthful with her, she could probably fix it for him, if that were the case…

She continued to skip as she ascended the stairs to the upper deck. She reached it in a matter of minutes, only avoiding collisions with two crewmen going about their routine duties. She exited the hallway and stepped out into the sun, catching sight of Ashton. She raised and eyebrow confusedly when she saw him talking in an sorrowful tone to one of his barrels. She walked over toward him quietly, deciding to sneak up on him.

At first she hoped he was talking to his dragons, but as soon as she caught a few words of what he mumbled, it was clear that wasn't so. He was talking to an empty cask again.

What's new?

Precis stood less than a foot away from him, causing Creepy and Weepy to look up at her. However, the dragons' host didn't seem to notice her at all. She frowned and hurried past him and behind the barrel, her presence still unnoticed. What a moron… She thought dryly, scanning the three-barrel high stacks. Reaching the top of the pile would have been easier with one of her many inventions, but the particular one that came to mind had been left at her home.

She placed a foot on the side of the lowest barrel and grabbed onto one of the ropes that held them all in place and tested it to see if it would hold her. It seemed a little suspect, but she decided to take her chances. She pulled herself atop the first barrel, her feet on the edge of the barrel's top. She used similar methods to reach the top and promptly kneeled down, peering down at him.

The random crewmen and passengers passing by glanced up at her, expressions varying from disapproving to mildly concerned. However, Ashton still had no idea she was there. She shook her head and glared down at him, kneeling down on the top center barrel and hanging her arms over the edge.

A few dark clouds formed in the sky, distracting from the clear horizon they'd seen that morning at sunrise.

"Boo," she said flatly, without the slightest bit of conviction.

Amazingly, it was enough to startle Ashton out of his stupor. He yelped as he jumped and jerked away from the barrel, tumbling gracelessly onto his backside, as Creepy and Weepy grumbled their objection to being jerked around. Precis crossed her arms, meeting his gaze dully.

Such a dork…Claude is soooooo much cooler.

"What on Expel are you doing?"

"P-Precis!" he stammered, jumping to his feet in an instant, apparently hoping to seem halfway sane, once again thoughtless to Creepy and Weepy. "W-what are you doing here?"

Before she had the chance to answer, his somewhat slow-to-react mind realized where she was and his expression became stricken once again. "G-get down from there!" He pointed at the barrel she was perched on. "Do you know how much that barrel cost?! The wood is genuine red wood, the metal is pure silver, and you might scratch it or get the dirt form your shoes rubbed into the wood's natural grain!"

She stared at him blankly; he was losing points in her eyes by the second. She crossed her legs and drummed her fingers against the side of the barrel, bored to death, as he continued to list the most random, dull, and obscure facts about the barrel. How can a stupid chunk of wood have so much history? Is he making all this up…?

"Besides, it's dangerous up there!" he added, noticing the boat's rocking had increased. "You could fall and get hurt."

Goodness, he's so obviously more concerned with the barrel, why even bother saying something like that…?

She looked over to the side, inwardly noting the seas were indeed getting rougher. It was glaringly obvious where the moron's priorities laid, seeing as he expressed far more concern for the barrels than anything else. The wind was against the tide, causing white caps to decorate the choppy waters. There were only a few seagulls in the sky; they were circling, signaling a storm was approaching.

Not that she cared; if it rained, she'd go inside or deploy the high tech umbrella in her backpack. The ship was large enough that the ever growing waves shouldn't have much of an effect; or so she though. She peered down at the lowermost barrel, expression remaining indifferent.

"What's wrong with it?"

Ashton's worried, petrified expression somehow becoming more desperate. "Look at it," he sighed, switching back to the topic of the barrel without missing a beat. "It's…it's…been defiled!"

She stared right back at him. "But what happened to it?"

"Can't you see?!" he exclaimed distantly, motion toward the front of the barrel.

She leaned over the edge to get a better look, disgusted to find herself mildly intrigued in what had gotten the moron so hysterical. She was in a precarious position when she finally realized what was amiss; although very small, there was a bright white and gray blemish up on the barrel's side. She looked up to the sky, watching as a seagull flew around the ship's massive sails. The culprit of the barrel's defilation was suddenly quite clear.

"One of the gulls crapped on it?" she asked, tone casual.

"They're rats with wings!" he howled in distress, earning mutual grumbles from Creepy and Weepy. "They've ruined my barrel! Do you know how much it cost? I'd have to work a month to pay to replace it, and that's just assuming a replica could be found…!"

You mean assuming someone would hire you… She thought sarcastically.

"Why not just scrape it off? I have a nice tool that'd do the trick," she suggested, deciding it would be easier to at least try and sound helpful. His needless dramatics had gained the attention of every passenger and crewmember on the deck. Even those admiring the view on the bow had come to observe the freak show.

And she certainly did not want to be a part of that.

"Have you lost your mind?!" Ashton demanded, shaking his head profusely.

…No, but you have. She thought dryly.

"A metal scraper would ruin it! Heartlessly chafing it off would damage the wood beyond repair! The fibers of the afflicted board would be scratched and the perfect varnish job rendered meaningless. And it's impossible to re-varnish a barrel and have it still possess it's original grandeur…"

"What about scrubbing it with a cleaner?"

He shuddered violently at the thought. "The harsh chemicals in all those weird concoctions they make nowadays would ruin the perfect color of the wood! And the varnish…the varnish! Do we need to go over that again?"

"No," she said, more likely too quickly. She stood up on top of the barrel with her arms crossed to give him a less than short lecture.

However, the boat was now in much rougher seas. White caps decorated the waves and one large enough made the ship lurch upward. The vessel came over it at an awkward angle and all in a matter of seconds, she lost her balance. As the hull of the boat came back down into the water, sending spray all over the pulpit and deck, she lost her footing felt herself falling forward. Her eyes widened in surprise.

Oh crap…

The mountain of barrels moved and tilted dangerously. What felt like a sickeningly long amount of time for her passed as the air rushed around her.

He actually right about something…it must be a sing of the apocalypse…

Though Ashton's reflexes weren't quite so fast, Creepy and Weepy saw what was happening and with a brief possession of his body, forced him to step forward and stretch out his arms to catch her with the unnatural speed no human could have. They relinquished control over his body instantly, causing him to blink in confusion, wondering why he was suddenly standing wit his arms out, as she landed in his arms.

He wasn't ready, he fell backward painfully on his backside with Precis on top of him. More specifically, sitting on his lap. The two dragons on his back exchanged disgruntled looks, inwardly thinking even with help, he was still so hopeless. Additionally, they also grumbled quietly.

She blushed slightly and jumped up quickly, dusting her clothes off with an indignant demeanor. They had earned even more stares from the crewmembers on deck, even though the many men in uniform should have been attending to more storm preparations. The unusual twosome, not to mention the precariously lurching barrels, stood out too much to ignore.

Ashton was still a bit dumbfounded as she once again crossed her arms to give him a brief scolding. "I-it's dangerous to have those stupid things stacked so high! If they fall they'll hurt someone."

She hurried off to the door to the cabin and pulled it open, ready to disappear back into the safety of the downbelow. She stopped in the doorway and glanced over her shoulder at him, expression still a bit displease. "But…thanks for catching me, anyway."

She let the door slap behind her as she departed.

Ashton scratched his head, somewhat pleased with the outcome. (Even if he didn't really know what had happened.)

The feeling was short lived when he remembered the bird crap on his most precious barrel and it started to rain. His infamous bad luck survived.

Final Hikari: Were there too many nautical terms in this oneshot? XD Additionally, it was impossible to resist the mention of 'the hug's neurotic cousin, the glomp.'

Precis: -shudder- It's all to creepy…

Final Hikari: …But you've attempted glomping Claude too many times to count.

Precis: -pout- I mean Ashton's barrel obsession! It's weird!

Final Hikari: XD It could be worse.

Precis: …Exactly how did you figure that out?

Final Hikari: He could have ordered the two of you a Lover's Parfait, or whatever it's called in the US version of TSE. :D

Precis: O.O

Final Hikari: 'Kay, that's it folks! Thanks for reading and please review! The feedback is always greatly appreciated.