“A man keeps his word,” his adoptive father told Nick, before swearing him to fulfill a promise he could not keep, then passed away. He was fifteen at the time, and from then on, his childhood ended. Play gave way to work. The few friends he had gave way to illicit dealers and business partners. Loitering gave way to reading so that he could work some more. All to fulfill the obligation that would rule the next five years of his life.

To some, it would be deemed cruel to ask such things of a child. Still, those were the parting words of the man he called father for the first decade and a half of his life, and he did his best to live up to it.

Now, five years later, he peered at the moon’s light filtering through the deck of his airship to the passing clouds below and onto the glittering waters of the sea.

Air-ship may have been too strong a word. If anything, it was somewhere between air-ship and air-raft. Maybe an air-boat?

The rickety vessel he stood upon looked as if someone tried to take a raft and latch bits and pieces of a ship onto it. Which was exactly the case.

At the rear end of the flat deck was a square cabin fashioned with planks from a greenwood tree. The cabin was tiny, but kept him warm. The effort was worth it, since he was tired of freezing half to death on every trip.

In fact, the entire structure was made out of greenwood trees, right down to the sap which sutured the planks together and the pegs that finished the job. Not too shabby, given his inexperience, and considering he was following vague tips from a book by Imperial pioneers.

This boat was his creation, and was the means by which he kept that obligation held.

An aurora soared from behind, enclosing through the deck in ever-shifting colors of pure aetherial energy. It was an opportunity that Nick was waiting for. Auroras were common this far north in the hemisphere. The pure aethereal energy within were harmless, but could be harnessed with the right tools.

At the bow, Nick had fashioned spell-weave cloth into a large sail. The energy of the aurora swirled through the white cloth, causing it to brim in a rainbow of colors. Four conducting ropes tied to the bottom of the sails suctioned the energy to four air engines floating on the corners of the deck. The emeralds at the core of each engine, glowed green and recharged. Nick sighed, relaxing. He had four spare charged emeralds in the upper corner of his cabin, but they were a pain to change out, and the effort was dangerous mid-flight. With the energy from the aurora, he’d be able to rendezvous and make it home without a hot-swap.

As the aurora passed and the cloth resumed its natural white color, he walked over and hoisted them down. Spell-weave cloth was expensive to replace, and in the quantity he had, was outright contraband that would get him arrested if he was caught.

As Nick tied down the sails, he saw a dark mass of land surrounded by the glittering waters below. That must be the rendezvous point, the new one Eric mapped out for their next exchange. Nick got an odd feeling. It was too quiet down there. Any other island would be full of seagulls. Especially this far from the fishing fleets that stole their usual prey.

He ignored the thought to focus on toeing over the conducting ropes, careful not to accidentally shock himself or worse, spark a fire. Once he made it to the steering board at the center of the deck, he pushed the board down, causing the boat to lurch down to the cloudbanks below.

Vapor drenched his clothes as he entered the clouds. He had wool clothing on but the cold water cut through his body like a knife, shearing away warmth. His hands froze and shook as he struggled to keep the ship moving in the right direction.

When he thought he was deep enough, he brought the board back up and kicked a lever that would activate the brakes. The ship lurched to a halt, floating in a wet, cold, gray world. Nick stood on the deck, joined by the soft humming of the engines and the occasional gust of wind.

Time eased to a standstill. It always did out here, where the only things were clouds and the endless sea. Nick’s shivering hands pulled out another piece of contraband, a pocket-watch. Its twin hands clinked in routine fashion from a topaz battery hidden deep in the mechanism. It was thirty minutes since the agreed upon time.

It was making him antsy. He was far from the land border so the risk of being caught by a Nephilim pegasus patrol or an Imperial corvette were slim to none. That didn’t mean it was safe either though. These were dangerous times. Privateers, using the chaos of the civil war raging to the south, looking for easy-pickings. There were aerial predators, such as wyverns or harpy swarms, that had snuck through border patrols.

In recent news, another threat had joined the fray. Northlanders from the old continent, raiding the Imperial coastlines, abusing the lax security from the civil war. Their attacks creeping closer to Vislanda with each month. Nick had no intention of falling prey to any of them, and kept one hand tightly gripped over the bandaged pommel of the sword on his belt.

The fact that today would be his last run only drove up his anxiety. It made him question whether he really needed the extra money. Maybe it would be best if he just turned back.

Then Nick heard a faint whirring sound, separate from the sound of own vessel’s engines. With each passing tick of the watch the noise got louder. He wasn’t alarmed, and was in fact relieved. This particular noise was familiar. His rendezvous had finally arrived.

A dark shape broke through the fog, approaching Nick. This was an actual airship, stretching nearly five times as long, and as three times as wide as Nick’s own boat. However, its belly was quite narrow for one of its caliber. An Adrestan clipper built in the southern republic, and adhering to the mercantile aspects of the country, designed for speed and the ability to outrun near everything else.

Nick certainly could believe that. Although the outline was hazy through the fog, he could make out the four emerald engines attached to the ship’s hull, each nearly twice the size of his own. However, these were merely for maneuvering. The one’s on the ship’s stern were thrice as large.

He wasted no time, and went back inside his cabin, grabbing two charged rubies from a sack hanging in a corner. He stepped back out, and swiped the rubies against each other, sending off a spark of fire to signal the other ship.

A few seconds passed and a stream of fire whirled up from the deck of the clipper, vanishing into smoke. Nick shook his head. Eric loved his occasional acts of theater.

The clipper dipped veering towards Nick. He could make out shapes through the fog. Some looked like people moving atop the deck, and he could make out swearing and cursing from the whirring noise of the ship’s crystals. As the looming vessel approached, Nick clenched his fists. It was always dangerous to try and rendezvous in the middle of a cloud. The gain in obscurity and secrecy from any airspace patrols was offset by the risk of collision, which for Nick’s small ship, could be fatal. Even two years of success, couldn’t do away with the feeling of unease.

Nick’s heart eased as the deck of the clipper came in line with his own. A wooden plank slapped down connecting the decks of the two vessels, followed by a figure stepping across it.

His boots caused the wood to creak with each step, and the figure appeared as a man sporting blue overalls, a thick coat, and a bulging belly. He had a brown patch strung over a missing left eye, and his scalp was covered in scarred skin that allowed only a few strands of frizzy hair. A slow-burning cigar whisked out the corner of his mouth, and his one good eye zeroed in on Nick as he stepped off the plank.

“Nick.” Eric’s right hand grabbed the cigar as he blew out a plume of smoke. “As punctual as ever I see.”

Nick was always surprised by how the thin plank could hold up the man’s weight. There had to be some kind of enchantment at play. He wouldn’t be surprised, Eric was a worldly man, and had access to goods from all around the rest of the world.

“Evening Eric.” Nick quirked a smile, hiding his irritation. Worsened given how Eric looked warm in his coat while Nick felt cold vapor drip through his own clothes. “And you are as late as ever.”

Eric’s hand steadied the cigar. Nick’s eyes however, centered on the silver bracer looped around his wrist.

A gembrace. The invention of the century which had rattled all the corners of the known world. Nick read from one of his father’s history books only 20% of people could naturally channel aethereal forces. All human societies and cultures had formed around that limitation. Now, with the gembraces, those forces could be wielded by all of humanity. Those who did, were known as bracers.

The ruby stones embedded into Eric’s gembrace, revealed his affinity for fire. Each cut channeled aethereal energy into a variety of spells. The average bracer could only wield two. Eric’s had five.

“You’re staring again Nick.” Eric quirked up a smile of his own, brushing condensation off his coat. “And aren’t you supposed to be nice to your elders? I thought Vislanders were sticklers for all that pomp and nonsense.”

Nick swore internally for letting his attention wander. “I blame it on the company I keep,” said Nick. “Smugglers aren’t a respectful lot.”

Eric shrugged his hands. “Got me there. I suppose a lil bit of me has rubbed off after some time.”

“Guess that is why they keep the border patrolled so tightly,” said Nick. “Best not to let any bad impressions filter in from the rest of the world.”

“True.” Eric crossed his arms. “Then again, if it won’t so damn hard to get through. Business in my line wouldn’t be so good. Now, before we talk any further, you got the goods?”

Always bet on Eric to be place business before any pleasantries. Nick nodded and led Eric into his cabin.

They didn’t have to move much from the door, and thankfully didn’t have to. There was barely enough space for the two of them inside, not with everything else Nick had piled up.

“I see your sty hasn’t changed at all,” said Eric as his eyes circled the cabin.

“Can’t afford too many luxuries,” said Nick as he bent down and opened four wooden chests strapped to the wall.

As the chests opened, they revealed glimmering blue mana bars cut into rectangular chunks. Concentrated aether, which could be formed in only two places in the known world. Either Reclaimer City in the old continent or the mountain spires of Vislanda.

Eric whistled, kneeling down to pick up one of the glowing blue bars. He brought the bar to his mouth and bit off a small chunk.

The instant he swallowed it, Eric stood up, tensing. The rubies on his bracer flared red. Nick didn’t worry, this wasn’t the first time that Eric sampled the wares. In fact the warmth, emanating from the rubies put him at ease.

“Shit!” said Eric, his voice invigored with renewed energy. “Damn, I’m always surprised by how strong that stuff is. Far more potent than any potion I’ve had. Almost reminds me of the old days…”

“48 bars.” Nick leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “All that you have asked for.”

Eric placed the bar back in the chest, and his eyes gleamed once over the goods. “Done deal,” he said.

The two stepped back outside. “It’s a deal boys!” Eric yelled to his men on the clipper. “Haul the supplies over!”

The men on the clipper cheered back, today was going to be a good haul. Mana bars were expensive, and doubly so with the ongoing civil war to the south. The amount there could be distilled down to a thousand mana potions, which could single-handedly fuel a major offensive. Nick didn’t know which side Eric supplied, but he’d bet knowing him it was whoever offered the most.

More planks fell down to connect the two ships as burly looking men brought over barrels of Adrestan wine, flask cases of Islelander liquor, and pouches full of spices from the far-east. Consumable goods banned in Nephilim-ruled country of Vislanda since the Kingdom of the Isles and the Adrestan Republic sided with the provincial governors against the Imperators, throwing the Imperium into a civil war.

Everyone in Vislanda sided with the Imperators. However, many people were loathe to part from luxury goods from the “revolutionary” countries. This left a market with high demand and little supply. A supply that Nick was all too happy to fill.

As far as his personal thoughts on the war? If all went well in the next few days, those concerns would be far behind him. Both physically and mentally.

Nick and Eric stood watch as laborers set and strapped the goods down to the deck of the boat.

The light in Eric’s cigar faded. He took it out of his mouth and pinched the end between his thumb and index finger. One of the smaller rubies on the bracer glowed, and a trickle of blue fire erupted between his digits.

“You’re staring again my boy.”

“Sorry.” Nick looked away.

“Don’t worry.” Eric brought the cigar back to his lips. “You aren’t the first kid to be impressed by a Bracer.”

“I never asked before but… is it true you have to earn them by fighting in the Great Reclamation?” said Nick.

Eric laughed. “Kid, maybe fifty or so odd years ago. You probably read that from one of your books, didn’t you?”

Nick said nothing, but the silence confirmed the answer.

“To be honest, I did.”

“You fought in the Great Reclamation?”

“Yep, and last I heard; it is still going on. Just like it did a thousand years ago when it started. It is just like any old war, just like that scuffle to the south. Two sides fight it out, people get tired of fighting, things go back normal, rinse and repeat. Hasn’t been any headway since the Eight Companions fought their way into the Outer Capital and woke all the colossi that wrecked half of Reclamation City.”

Nick clenched his fists at the mention of the Eight Companions. Six Vislandan Nephilim and two bracers managed to breach the walls of the ancient capital, hoping to put an end to the endless hordes of monsters that swept the old continent. The greatest fighting force since the Paragons. A hopeful attempt that met a nightmarish end.

“Trust me kid, there ain’t nothing good fighting all the nasties on that cursed land for some hopeless cause.”

Eric’s breath sped up. He breathed out a plume of smoke.

“Sure there are perks, but the odds you get eaten alive or run through by some godsforsaken aberration aren’t worth the cost. And trust me, those things make your average predator in these lands look like puppies. If you’ve ever seen a wyvern or harpy, you’ll know what I’m talking about.”

Looking at Eric’s missing eye, and the scars that lined the top half of his head, only made his words all the more convincing.

“I’m a more practical man. Why do all the fighting when you can just buy it? And besides these?”

He pointed to his bracer.

“Nowadays any old schmuck can get a bracer and a few gemstones or two. Provided they got the money for it. Now that don’t mean they will know how to use it. But you can always pay for an instructor. Again, if you have the money. No need to pledge your life fighting something that can’t be won. Remember this, if nothing else. Money is what makes the world go round and round.”

Nick nodded, although disagreeing with Eric on a few points. He did imprint his words to his memory. Eric was one of his few reliable sources of information outside of Vislanda, and he wanted to learn as much as he could of the outside world. It was best to be as prepared as possible once he left.

“Anyhow,” said Eric. “Whenever we meet, you’re always the one asking questions, so let me ask you one.”

“Uh… sure Eric.”

“What’s your deal?”

“Huh?”

“Sorry, that was the slang coming out. I meant what drove you to this? From what I know of Vislanda, people there are taken care of. Hell, you could be a bum in Vislanda and you’d be living better than most others. No famine, no disease, no wars. That being said, penalties are pretty damn harsh for running goods from what I heard though. Now I’ve been keeping track of our little deals and you’ve probably made enough coin to buy yourself a noble’s manor if you wanted. Yet here I see you still cruising along on your little boat, freezing half to death in the airstreams. So, what is it?”

“It’s… complicated,” said Nick, not exactly prepared to give an answer. “Vislanda isn’t exactly what you think it is. I guess it is hard when you look at it from outside.”

“Well we got some time while the boys load things down.” Eric watched his men head back to the clipper to fetch another stack of supplies. “We’ve been in business for four years now kid. It is quite rare to find a business partner that lasts that long you know. Especially in this realm.”

Eric was right. The way they met was through a string of completely unrelated events, but they’ve both benefited from this partnership. Nick more so than Eric. Eric was the one who gave him the practical know-how of smuggling. The least he could do was give an answer.

“Family,” said Nick. “I made a promise.”

Eric nodded. “Makes sense, you always seemed like the strait-laced type with a personal code or something. Figures you’d be working for that. Although I’m surprised to hear about the first part. People always make it seem like Vislanda was like the land of milk and honey.”

“Far from it,” said Nick.

“That can’t be everything though,” said Eric. “You got a lady friend?”

“No,” said Nick, a little too quickly.

Eric scoffed. “Listen kid, it ain’t nothing to be ashamed of. When I was your age, chasing skirts took up most of my free time. Still do, to a certain extent.”

Nick had a mental image of Eric with his bulging gut and bald head trying to woo a girl in a tavern, and tried not to laugh. Unfortunately, a snicker crept through his nose.

“Hey!” said Eric. “I know I don’t look like much but I can tell you I still get tail. Looks matter a lot less than one thinks.”

“N-nah, it’s not that Eric.” But Nick just let loose with laughter, all while Eric just crossed his arms.

When Nick finally regained his composure, he spoke again. “I’m planning on leaving Vislanda.”

“What?” said Eric. “Why?”

“It is hard to explain,” said Nick. “When I think ahead, I just can’t imagine spending the next forty or fifty years. I read a lot, and sometimes I feel like the world out there is passing by while I’m just watching. I just… I just can’t imagine myself staying here while all that was going on.

Nick was expecting Eric to either crack a joke at his expense, as he usually did. Instead all Eric nodded.

“Ever think of not reading?” Eric asked. “From my point of view, it seems to be the culprit.”

“Can’t,” said Nick. “You know what they say. Once someone gets an idea, it doesn’t go away.”

Eric sighed, scratching the few strands of hair at the top of his head. “Well, I guess that does explain why they keep your folks under such a tight-noose. Otherwise every kid will start getting thoughts like you. When do you plan on leaving?”

“A few days,” said Nick.

“And where you thinking of taking off to?”

Nick didn’t answer immediately, although he knew where he wanted to go. “Reclaimer City.”

“Bah,” said Eric. “No wonder you kept eyeing the bracer. Trying to join the Reclamation?”

“Probably,” said Nick, although definitely was what he was thinking.

“Don’t,” said Eric. “There ain’t nothing grand about it. Look, I already told you about my side, but the old continent is nothing but one giant landmass full of nasties that will make a meal out of you. And if the monsters or creatures don’t get you, then the people will. Either the Northlanders or the pirates, or even your fellow reclaimers. And Reclaimer City? Nothing but a cesspool of cutthroats and backstabbers. Only reason that place hasn’t burned down is because of the guilds, who are run by the worst of the lot.”

Nick was silent as he listened to words that he had read long before. He was all too aware of what he was getting into.

“I know that look on your face,” said Eric. “You have it whenever your mind is set on something. Like when you said you were going to bring a Vislandan Lance to barter. Sure as hell surprised the hell out of me when you did.”

Nick raised his eyes. “Are you sure you just don’t want to lose a business partner?”

Eric rolled his eyes. “Look kid. I may look the part but I’m not a complete money-grubbing asshole. There is plenty of business in my line of work, even more so with the civil war going on. You made me a lot of money, but every now and then, I prefer to steer young-ins like you to wise decisions.”

“Thanks for the advice Eric,” said Nick. “But I’m still going.”

Eric closed his eyes, looked down, and sighed, longer this time. “Fine. If you are that set on it.” He tossed something to Nick.

Nick shuffled forward to catch the object. It was a coin, made from gold alloy from the gleam in the moonlight. A large V was inscribed onto both sides.

“Hand it over to the folks when you get initiated,” said Eric. “Knowing you, you’ll be fine on your own. However, you’ll need all the help you can get. That right there will you give you a leg up over the others. At least until you can stand steady on your own two feet.”

Nick looked at the coin then back at Eric. In the years they worked together, it was uncharacteristic from the smuggler to go out of his way to help others for free.

“Thanks Eric,” said Nick. “I appreciate it. I really do.”

“Yea this ain’t a free lunch or out of gratitude.” Eric crossed his arms even tighter and his eyes were closed. “Just think of it as a little bonus for the good work. I like to keep good relationships with good business partners you hear? Ain’t nothing more than that.”

Nick felt a smirk creaking out of the edge of his mouth, but he kept it to himself.

“Anyhow.” Eric opened his eyes as his men strapped the last of the cargo down. “Looks like the men are all done loading.”

Six of them came over to pick up the chests of mana bars. They were dirty, with rumpled hair and cheap patched-up clothes. They didn’t look discontent with the labor though, say what you wanted about Eric but he kept his underlings happy.

Eric offered a hand. “It was good doing business with you Nick. Best of luck in the future.”

“And likewise Eric,” said Nick who was about to shake his hand when a shadow flew over them. A gust followed the shadow, causing frigid air to cut through Nick’s clothes. That was no ordinary shadow and that gust was no ordinary wind. The laborers paused.

“What the-“ said Eric, looking above to figure out what it was.

Nick’s mind raced, suddenly connecting everything together. The deserted island. The fact that they were a good distance from the border, and of any Imperial or Vislandan patrol. The fact that there were no seagulls nearby. Only one thing would keep seagulls away, and they weren’t picky about their food.

“Watch out!” Nick tackled Eric to the ground, right as another shadow swept down through the cloudbanks. There was a terrible noise, something between a squawk and a shriek. Two clawed feet sheared the air where Eric’s shoulders were a moment ago. A humanoid shape drummed its wings back up the air before it collided with the deck, vanishing into the fog above.

Men shouted and screamed both from his boat and the clipper. Shadows and wind swept over them. He rolled off Eric, helping him back up.

Eric’s mind seemed to have figured out the issue at hand as his braced glowed red, and he shouted orders to his men.

“Harpies! Weapons out!”