Once the merchant ship had ported, a group of sailors called out to the dock workers. After some shouting and a few hand signals, they tossed a gang way towards the dock and the two crews worked together to secure it. On the ship, Draven waited patiently, one hand holding a small folded piece of paper. On the paper his client had drawn a waxing crescent moon and inscribed a brief set of instructions regarding his mission. He shoved the note into a pocket in his robe and clenched his collar as icy winds from Ashveil raced across the trade city of Whalethrone. His other hand tightly gripped a seven foot spear. The double sided, sixteen inch blade was hidden under a burgundy sheath. His black hair was tucked under a hood. His face itched and his hands cracked thanks to the dryness of the north. He licked his chilled lips and picked at the frozen snot on the edge of his nose.
When it was safe to cross, the sailors nodded, allowing for their passengers to leave. Draven was the first one off the boat. As the passengers scattered, the merchants went to work. They offloaded their goods, riling each other up and cracking jokes about the passengers once they were out of earshot.
Draven scanned the dock. He was greeted with the usual smells of fish, oil and a general coastal muskiness in the air. On the other side of the docks was a line of food carts. Thankfully, the smells of grilled fish and fried vegetables trailed north towards the dock, buffering the stench of raw marine life and unbathed fishermen. He watched the dock workers. He found a few who seemed new to this occupation. Most of the workers were older, yet nimble, whizzing around one another on their trained paths. It might have seemed chaotic to some, but in fact it was ordered and efficient. Draven turned his gaze towards the north. There were five other ships currently anchored. One of them was helmed by the man he was looking for.
He started walking the dock, noting the sails of each ship. He found a variety of colors and symbols representing their merchant guilds respectively. Most of them had great reputations, some known to the public, others known to the circles Draven frequented. One of the guilds, however, recently found itself in hot waters.
“There you are,” Draven rasped, scratching his dry face. The ship had green sails and centered on the second sail of the mizzenmast was the depiction of a cargo crate hovering over a wave with a green sun on the horizon. This ship belonged to the merchant guild in Emerald Way. This ship was particularly quiet. There was a single sailor caring for the tobacco in his pipe, leaning against a post at the foot of the gangway. Draven noted a few more sailors aboard the ship, going about their duties.
“You there,” said Draven.
The sailor pocketed his stamp and revealed a match, which he lit. Between puffs, he said, “What can I do for ya?” He tossed the match.
“I’m looking for the captain of this vessel.”
“Captain’s not here.”
“I have some wares I need transported south.”
“You wanna talk shop with him you gotta wait here or,” he pointed to Whalethrone’s city entrance, “find him in there.”
“No doubt nursing a bottle of rum in his favorite pub?”
“Couldn’t tell you which,” said the sailor. “He sort of likes them all.”
Draven turned to the city. Whalethrone was a glorious city, well-funded by both trade and tourism. The name came from the passageway built for the whales to travel safely between Ashveil and the mainland of Malafane. During mating season, that passageway was busy, and so was the city. Folks from all over traveled north to watch the whales pass through. One could stay in any number of resorts and gawk from well positioned balconies as whales breached the surface for air. Alternatively, one could go underneath the city to a variety of windowed resort spaces below sea level, watching the whales swim through. The dwarves were very industrious and the ones running Whalethrone were very, very wealthy.
For Draven, this slightly complicated things. It was mating season for the whales and the city was packed. Fortunately, his captain was a human, so he’d stand a bit taller above the rest. It’d been a few years since he’d last been in Whalethrone. Back then he knew of a dozen pubs, bars and taverns. Who knew how many more had been established since?
He politely nodded to the sailor and made for the city. In front of him was the gateway, which was flanked on either side by massive walls that ran down the coastline. Draven imagined that they bordered the whole of the northern coast, but where the wall ended, he didn’t know. Stationed at the top of the walls were soldiers, responsible for protecting the mainland from the threat of invasion. They were well armed, with strategically placed ballistae and canons. Draven noted the archers too, alert, keeping a keen eye on islands across the frigid ocean. He chuckled. If the elves in the north wanted to invade, they very well could and nothing would stop them. Of course, those in the mainland didn’t know that.
Time changes everything, he thought. Draven made for the gateway, stepping into a line of individuals hoping to enter Whalethrone. At the front of the line he heard, “Papers? Papers! You can’t get in unless you show us where ya been. Papers, please.”
Beyond the line, he watched dwarves, humans and a few elves mingle outside of storefronts, devour local cuisine and hurry to their resorts. He counted seven pubs on this street alone.
Might be better to just wait at the dock, he figured. As he neared the entrance, he glanced to either side, seeing a human guard on his left flank and dwarf guard on his right. In his mind, he felt a subtle push. It was odd, something he couldn’t quite place. He felt like he should speak with the human guard.
When he reached the guard, he pulled out a trifold document. His passport. The guard quickly checked his documentation. Draven shoved his papers back into his robe.
“You see the captain of that ship,” he pointed to the merchant ship with green sails, “come through here? See where he went?”
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“You looking to cause any trouble?” asked the guard, eyeing the spear.
“No, sir. Hoping to hitch a ride with him.”
“You’re looking for Captain Windbeard. Yeah, he’s probably drowning himself right now right there.”
The guard pointed to a large pub across the street called Easton’s Own.
What luck, thought Draven.
“No trouble, you understand? Otherwise your food for the sharks and we’re starving for some entertainment.”
Draven nodded to the guard and pushed through the crowded sidewalk. He heard the guard shout at the dwarf behind, “Where are ya papers?” Now that he was inside the city, he got a better look at the storefronts, and beyond them the skyport. He watched as massive airships landed, no doubt carrying eager tourists to watch the whales. He saw another airship take off, likely returning Maestwyth, a massive airship station north of the mountains. Depending on the info he’d obtain today, those airships might come in handy. He checked the street for horses and their wagons, sneaking across when an opening arrived.
Pushing through a heavy wooden door, Draven entered Easton’s Own and scanned the crowd. It was a rowdy bunch made of sailors and merchants of all sorts from all places around the world. A few captain hats danced above the sea of heads. He made for the bar.
Behind the counter was a woman. She had her sleeves pulled up, shirt unbuttoned and sweat beading across her forehead as she tended to the rowdy patrons at the counter.
Draven leaned in, “I’m looking for Captain Windbeard. He come in?”
She glanced at him suspiciously while filling a pint. She smacked the lever, cutting off the stream of ale and handed the pint to a fat fellow who looked like he’d tip at any moment.
“Tew Windbeard? Here to stir the pot?”
“No, miss. I promise to behave.”
She hesitated to say, but he jingled a few coins in his hand. “He’s upstairs. Paid for the lounge so he has it all to himself; playing around with the local tail.”
“Thanks.” He dropped a few coins on the counter for her. “For your time.”
“You promised,” she said. She stuffed the coins into a pocket in her skirt.
“I’ll keep it,” he said smiling. He eyed the wall to his far right. Draven knew exactly where the captain was.
He weaved through the crowded pub, careful not to touch anyone. He found the door leading to the lounge. He entered the stairwell, closing the door behind him. The crowd on the main floor was muffled now. He heard each familiar step creak as he made his way up the stairs. He heard women moaning and giggling and an obnoxiously drunk man laughing.
Draven quietly pushed the door open. Captain Tew was sitting in a giant chair at the foot of a table. He appeared to have purchased every meal the tavern had to offer. There were steaks, salads and variety of wines placed about. He had one woman giving him a shoulder massage, another was running her fingers through his hair as he enthusiastically buried his face between her full breasts, and a third danced naked on the table. She kicked at a bowl of salad, sending lettuce leaves and cherry tomatoes in his face. He roared, clapping. They hadn’t noticed Draven enter the room. Glancing around, he saw a fireplace on the right side of the room, behind the captain. There were blankets, cushions and women’s clothing scattered around. On the left side of the room were bookshelves, largely empty. At the base of the shelves were two medium sized chests. One of them opened, displaying golden treasures and loads of coin. Draven chuckled to himself.
“Mr. Tew, sir,” said the woman massaging the captain’s shoulders. Draven looked over and the woman was looking right at him. “We have a guest, Mr. Tew, sir.”
The laughter evaporated. The naked woman stopped dancing. She climbed down, covering herself with her hands. Tew leaped from his chair, stumbling a little, and shouted, “Who ‘er ya?”
“My ladies,” said Draven. “Please fetch your items and excuse yourselves.”
His tone suggested they hurry, and they did. In a flash, the women were out of the room. Draven and Windbeard stared at each other.
“That’s a fine pile of gold there,” said Draven. He drifted across the room and sat at the opposite end of the table, resting the spear against the edge. Tew stood drunkenly, using the table to support himself as he huffed. Draven resumed, “I know this isn’t how you saw your day turning out.”
The captain crashed into his chair. “What do yer want?”
“I’m looking for someone,” Draven said quickly. “A couple of weeks ago your vessel had transported some human cargo. Among them was a young woman, blonde…”
“Moon eyes,” slurred Tew. Draven was surprised by how fast he surrendered the information. Taking a closer look at Tew, Draven realized he was eyeballing the spear.
“You know who I’m looking for? That makes this easier.”
The captain nodded. He started to pour himself more wine and then held the bottle, insinuating he’d pour some for Draven too. Draven declined. Tew shrugged. He filled his glass and set the bottle aside.
“Empty anyway,” he said. He gulped it down. “Ah, yeah, she’s a hard one to forget.”
“Tell me more,” said Draven.
“We had a few of them. I ‘pose twelve, maybe fifteen. Was a lighter load than normal, but they looked,” he hiccuped, “good. Real nice bodies. Good teeth. The men would’ve made great workers and the ladies prize entertainment. Ya know how it all goes.”
Draven rotated his finger. Get on with it.
“They fought hard and ‘er able to steal a rowboat, but not after cuttin’ the others down. Saw her in action on the deck. She’s a fighter when ya put her in a corner. She had some kinda magic too. Made a wall of ice to corral my men. Kept ‘em from giving chase. They were smart,” said Tew. “Believe me, those responsible fer not tying up our cargo are frozen at the bottom of Silverlance Sea.”
“You didn’t make it to Whalethrone?”
“Not even Ashveil.”
She went south then. She didn’t go to the capital. That’s a relief. Draven stood from the table, quickly seizing the spear. He reached along the table and picked up a cherry tomato, tossing it in his mouth. He walked towards Tew, who was sinking back in his chair, unsure if he should stay or flee.
“Captain Windbeard. You and I have mutual employers, so don’t worry, I won’t be killing you.”
Tew nodded, taking a deep breath. He started to chuckle, “Can’t tell ya how relieved I am to hear that, lad.”
“However, you are becoming a bit…” he squinted his eyes, “sloppy.”
Tew tightened up. He watched Draven carefully.
“Run a tighter ship. This is your one and only warning.”
“Aye,” he said, his voice shaky. He seemed to sober up. “Listen, do you want any of the gold, you can take whatever,” he waved to the chests on the end of the room.
Draven placed a firm hand on Tew’s shoulder. “I just want you to do better, Captain.”
Tew nodded. He got the message.
Draven knocked on the table with his knuckle and left Tew to his thoughts. As he made his way back down the stairs, Draven considered the lay of the mainland. If she didn’t make it to Ashveil, and they rowed south, she’d likely found herself in Oma in the Orange and Black Valley. He’d have to travel west, and Oma was weeks away. He smiled to himself. An airship would greatly reduce the travel time. It wouldn’t get him to Oma, but it’d be close enough. It wouldn’t take weeks, but days.
His client’s words echoed in his mind, “When you find Ayla, do not hesitate to kill her.” A pause. “How long will it take you to find her?”
“I was on her trail up until the coastline. When I get to the mainland, it could be days, maybe weeks. No more than that.”
“After you kill her, bring her body back to us. It’s imperative that you do so.”
That was a detail he hadn’t quite figured out yet, but he knew some smugglers, who dealt with the dead both here and beyond, who could get a corpse across the country. He opened the door and entered the first floor of the pub. Everyone was still having a good time. He looked at the barmaid behind the counter, who nodded at him with a smile. He politely waved and left, disappearing into the city.
