Another short and restless night for me. I didn't sleep well, vigilantly waiting for fourth nightbell. I woke up on time, did a quick face wash before tending to Godzilla. She was not happy to see me this early and even tried to bite me for the first time while I was trying to milk her. I did not insist. After I drank my share of milk there wasn't much more left. Jocalie will have to milk her herself if she wants some.

Everyone is still asleep in the house. Mom left an additional coat neatly folded near the door, a long sleeved one made of rough and used fabric that formerly belonged to Barasti. It is a bit too long for me but better than nothing.

Outside it is still night, the sun is still hidden behind the mountains in the distance. The twin moons are on their way down still casting some pink on the city making it feel like an early daybreak nonetheless.

As I made my way in our still asleep street, a faint light flickered in the corner of my field of vision. When I turned toward the disturbance, I was greeted by Gel's shiny lavender eyes.

I was expecting this kind of plot so I immediately raised a hand: “You can't come with me,”.

Anger flashed briefly in her gaze but in the end she nodded sadly: “ Can I meet you this evening at least?” she pleaded.

I'm feeling like I was the mean guy here “Of course, you are always welcome home. Just follow mom. I should be back home earlier than you all.”.

She nodded again before whispering me a prayer “May Amidea keep your head out of her waters.”. And she hurriedly went back from whence she came.

* * * *

The streets are almost empty. There are a few early risers going their own way. The bakeries are the only open shops, their chimney already at work. Spring air is still frosty this early and there is some dew condensing on the tree leaves and cobwebs.

(fun otherworldly fact: spiders are mostly the same here: 8 eyes and legs. This also means that there are some common grounds in biological evolution and species phylogeny between worlds. They are considered a good omen and welcomed in houses as they are supposed to ward from bad luck and kill the other pesky insects.)

When make it to the docks there is a heavy mist dampening the air coming from the river. The first rays of the sun are warming the scenery and should disperse it soon enough.

A few clouds are lazily making their way high up in the sky, leaving space for a few seagulls already singing high above, on the watch for any discarded fish around the dock. They are pointing me to my destination: where there are seagulls, fishermen are near.

The river is a magnificent sight. The waters look dark and deep in the dim morning light and I can't see the opposite bank clouded in the mist.

There are a dozen fishermen on the dock tending to their nets, boats and lines. Peterell is among them minding his own business. I go by his side to greet him with a slight bow: “Hello Mr Peterell, forgive me if i'm late”.

He slowly turns towards me, looks at the sky, before finally laughing leaving me dumbfounded. “You are on time, good. And I'm just Peterell, I'm no free citizen or whatever fancy status.” he says in his accent, his every word coated in syrup.

“You can call him seven tails captain” adds one of the other nearby sailor, laughing like a hyena at his own pun. The sailors in ear reach all laugh at the private joke, even Peterell himself does. Leaving me to wonder what this is all about.

“Stay focused lads: he is new and fresh out of naming. Don't tease him too much or get your own apprentices for that.” shields my new boss. I notice that there aren't many young ones around. Only a couple bulky teenagers.

“You can call me Peterell, captain when on boat, or just sir, I don't really mind.” he adds for me. “What I do expect from you is total obedience. If I say: jump in the water, you jump in the water. If I say : stop, you stop and if I say shut up, you shut it up. Understood ?” His tone is both brimming with authority yet undermined by his lazy way to phrase his sentences.

“Yes sir”. My short answer grants me an approving look from his colleagues.

“Do you know how to swim ?” he asks me.

“Yes.” I nod with seriousness. This surprises him and he is right to be: no one taught me yet in this world.

“Then jump in the water and show me.” He says while plainly pointing at the river.

For a second I think he is joking but the serious gazes of the sailors around us tell me he isn't. I just take a second to drop my coat before jumping head first from the dock.

The murky waters greet me with a splash and a wave of cold cutting my breath and making me tremble in shivers. I emerge to take a gulp of cold air and start to move forward with a few breaststrokes, keeping my head out of the water.

The sailors are all looking at me and Peterell yells: “Swim to the nearest pole and back !” Pointing at a log sticking out of the flowing waters more than a dozen meters away.

I switch to an energetic crawl to not get dragged astray by the current and speed up a bit. I keep my head underwater, the cold biting at my lips like an angry lover every time I emerge to take a breath.

I kept my pants and shirt on and they are now soaked and heavy, pulling me down and draining me of my stamina at a faster pace than I expected.

As I finally reach the pole, I use it to propulse myself on the way back with a kick, gliding underwater for a bit before ending the last meters with a sidestroke to preserve the remnants of my energy.

As I reach the dock, Peterell catches my wrist and pulls me up to the planks as if I'm weightless. I'm trickling with freezing water, my trembling hands turned blue from the ordeal.

The fishermen are watching me with both approval and caution. One of them lends me a flask adding in a rowdy tone fit for a mariner: “Amidea's hairy cunt chokes me, have a go at this. Ye earned it, lad.”

I'm not fond of drinking even less this early in the day but I'm freezing right now so it is more than welcome.

I take a sip: it isn't alcohol, it is liquid fire. The sailor takes his flask back while laughing and patting my back vigorously as I cough. I could swear flames are coming out along with each coughs. Whatever it is the thing burns my insides, boring a melting hole in my stomach before sending warmth all over my body. I can see the water pearling on my reddening skin evaporate as the waves of heat spread inside of me.

“This is Telerios and he is now my apprentice!” proclaims my captain in his sluggish accent, patting my shoulder. “Take off your clothes and put your coat on before you catch a cold.” he adds for me.

I abide and take my soaking cold pants and shirt off. Once i'm wrapped up in my mantle, he inquires: “Where did you learn to swim ?” I can see suspicion on his face as well as on some of the nearby fishermen.

“My grand pa taught me.” I lie without hesitation.

“And where did he learn? Those were some strange moves, kid” says the one that gave me the liquid fire: an old fisherman with a grizzled beard.

I shrug “He was in the army for a while, so maybe there?” He had been a scout indeed, so I hope they teach their soldiers how to swim.

Peterell is still doubtful but decides that he doesn't really care in the end. “mmh, whatever. Those were some good moves, you were able to swim with clothes on. Good, you wont join Amidea's palace on your first dip. I'll have you ask your grandfather to teach that to Mel too if you don't mind.”

Shit, I can't let that happen if I don't want my lie exposed: “I can teach her if you want.” I hurriedly add. “I'm already used to teaching her new things.”

My last sentence causes some mocking laughs to erupt from around. The sailors making some lewd comments on my precocity around pussies. Her dad doesn't bother answering me or the banterer, apparently accustomed to the rumpus. Sailors are sailors after all.

The liquid fire slowly turns to embers then dies inside and the cold comes kicking back harsher. I can't feel any dizziness nor drunkenness though, confirming it wasn't alcohol. Maybe some kind of magic potion? That would be a first and I've never heard of those till now. I can't ask the old sailor as he went to take care of his own business.

The sun is now completely risen from behind the white fangs mountains. First daybell rings and the men goes on their skiffs and barks. Aiming for the middle of the wide river, where there are no sail boats travelling for now.

“Do you have a knife ?” asks Peterell. I shake in denial. “I was expecting that. I forgot to mention it yesterday, here have this one.” He gives me an old rusty blade, 10 cm long with jagged edges and a simple wooden handle. “In the middle of the river, if you fall in the water and feel something dragging you by your feet, do not hesitate: strike and slash at it. The blood and pain should make the chogsu let you free. Come back on board as quick as you can, the smell of blood can attract many more things.” His draggy accent make his sentences sound even more threatening.

What have I gotten myself into? What in Charavatkeh's bestiary is a chogsu? I'm not sure I want to find out. I shiver as I think that I was defenceless in these waters just minutes ago.

“Keep the blade strapped where you can easily grab it whenever needed.” He taps at his own arm where there is his own blade strapped on: a massive copper dagger with a finely carved ivory handle. Quite the fancy item for a commoner.

“Thank you sir.” I put my still damp clothes on, shivering lightly in the wind that is both freezing and drying me up.

With a bit of rope I craft a makeshift strap for my rusty blade. Making sure it is well fixed and easy to access, the blade is stuck between two loose knots, both keeping it well in place while making it easy to grab if needed. Please Amidea, make that never.

My mentor nods in approval when seeing my knots before clasping my wet shoulders: “Telerios, we are going to make a fisherman out of you.”