"How many people live out there amongst the uncountable islands in the ocean? Nobody knows. The Al-Shan Empire might be the only major nation amongst them, but many of those islands were populated, either be indigenous people or new arrivals from the continents. Those that lived near major trade routes usually made trade their living, while those further away from such usually lived more simple lives." - Garth Wainwrought, professor of socioeconomics at the Levain Institute of Higher Learning.

"Aren't we headed off course?" Asked Cal when she had a moment to ask the captain in private, outside the hearing of others. "We're headed south and east from what I can tell, while our destination is straight to the south."

"Oh right, haven't told you yet," said Arquivaldo as he slapped his forehead with one palm. "We have a regular trading partner this way, always paid them a visit each time we pass this area. If you like, you and your nieces can join us when we disembark. They got some real nice beaches there."

"That… sounds good, yeah," said Cal in agreement. She glanced at her two nieces, who sparred with each other at the moment, wooden training weapons clashing against each other. "Those girls have been hard at work training of late. Some vacation would do them nice."

"Always gotta have some breaks in life," said the captain as he took a swig from a bottle of rum. He offered Cal another bottle which she accepted. The drink was a dark, spiced rum with the pungency of spices cutting the alcoholic burn. "No real point living when what you do is just all work and no play, after all."

Cal took another swig from her bottle while she pondered what the captain said, her eyes still on her nieces as they sparred viciously. With healing readily on hand there was much less need to hold back after all.

-------------------------------

Three days later they arrived at their destination, a small archipelago of around a dozen small islands closely situated to one another. Cal's sharp eyes noticed huts built in the interior regions of the islands, as well as what looked like indigenous people - mostly goblins and orcs with dark brown skin, though she noticed humans and elves as well, with dark tans - on board small boats as they fished in the nearby waters.

Many of the fishermen waved their hands as the black ship passed by them, and some even cheered. Obviously Le Faucon Noir was a known and liked ship to these people, since none of them even questioned the second ship that trailed behind it.

Before long both ships had pulled up near the shore and dropped their anchors. Arquivaldo and Iosif, as well as Cal and her nieces, were the ones who went to shore, in smaller rowboats that some ten crew members rowed for them.

The waters near the island were a light sky blue in shade, and so clear one could see all the way to the ocean floor. The shores themselves were sandy beaches, vast expanses of pristine, white sand, only occasionally disturbed by racks where the small boats the natives used were mounted when not in use.

The five of them went out from the rowboats once they reached shallow waters, and headed straight for the small village in the center of the island. The crew behind them dragged their boats ashore in the meantime, while Cal led her nieces behind Arquivaldo and Iosif.

Some native people - Cal noticed now that she got a close look that the short skirts and vests they favored were woven from silk of all things - waved in a friendly manner to the captain, and one had a brief discussion with him before he took off running to the village.

By the time they reached the village, the one Cal assumed to be the village head - a chubby, matronly orc woman with grey hair - greeted Arquivaldo fondly, and they traded hugs.

"It is good to see you again, old friend, come, come to my abode," said the matronly orc in heavily accented but understandable common. "Let's talk business over some refreshments."

The abode in question was a larger hut, made mostly of mud over wood, with woven dried leaves as a roof. The main difference it had to other huts was the open, roofed platform attached to its front, where the matron sat cross-legged and beckoned them over.

Arquivaldo accepted her offer and stepped onto the platform after he removed his boots, an etiquette Cal took note of and followed suit before she did the same. Her nieces followed her example behind her, though old Iosif didn't need to, since the one-legged therian man never wore shoes over his hoofed foot to begin with.

Fresh fruits were brought by some youngsters - some half orcs share such resemblance to the matron Cal instantly pegged them as likely to be her descendants - and cups were filled with a murky, greenish white juice.

Cal wasn't familiar with the variety of fruits served at all, from a spiky fruit that one youngster laboriously peeled and removed "eyes" from, with a brilliant yellow juicy flesh that had a very pleasant tartness with a hint of sweetness.

The matron suggested she sprinkle some salt to it, which Cal did with some skepticism. Her skepticism turned out to be unwarranted however, as the pricks of saltiness just intensified and mingled with the fruit's natural flavor in an all too pleasant manner.

Another fruit served was smaller, around the size of lychees she was familiar with from her homeland, but with red and hairy skin. Once peeled they had similar pale white flesh around a rather large seed, so she thought they might be related. The flavor was more a strong, tart, refreshing flavor though, which she quite enjoyed.

One of the younger orcs carefully tapped the sides of a strange fruit that looked like a moldy coconut, and had a strong, pungent smell. He carefully cracked the fruit's shell in half along the cracks he made, then handed the opened fruit to Cal with a small wooden spoon. The insides of the fruit looked like a mushy brown mess, rather unappetizing to look at.

Cal wasn't a stranger to unusual foods though, so she scooped up a spoonful and tried it. The taste reminded her a lot of ripe tamarind pods, a fruit that grew on the island she was born on, that was a favorite childhood snack of hers. It was a mild, gentle sourness, interspersed with hints of sweetness. The texture was far softer, almost like a custard or a pudding, and she happily munched on the rest of the fruit with a nostalgic smile on her face.

Her nieces looked at her enjoyment and were quickly tempted to try the fruit as well - something they had trepidation with just before -, and the taste quickly brought smiles to their faces.

Cal had a drink from the cup of juice after she finished the fruit, and found that it was a familiar taste, not too different from the rum Arquivaldo favored. He explained to her that it was sugar cane juice, which was also the main ingredient rum was made from.

Trade itself was simplicity, done via barter. The orc matron brought out rolls of fine silk and cases of colorful, fine pearls, which Arquivaldo traded for knives and blades made from fine steel, as well as various spices and preserved foodstuffs from the continent. It was an exchange with both sides providing the other what only they could provide easily.

"The harvest seems a bit bad this year, eh, Olga?" Asked the captain to the old matron.

"Sigh, yes it has. Some of the young 'uns been led astray of late," said the orcish matron with a fed-up sigh. "Some outsider popped up here a few months ago and been feeding them wierd ideas, and the young 'uns be lapping them up."

"Why didn't you just toss him to the sea then?" Asked the captain with one raised eyebrow.

"Wished I could. Son of a bitch got strong people with him. Stronger than the strongest we got, by a good bit they say," answered the matron with another sigh.

"Mayhaps we could be of help for your troubles then. Consider it an after-trade service," the captain said with a mischievous grin on his face. He then turned to look at Cal and asked her. "What do you say, madam Ambervale?"

"Wouldn't mind a little exercise, sure," Cal said nonchalantly. "Let's take a look at this preacher of sorts then."