Alkerdian Auroch; Bos primigenus alkerdius A common enough bovine creature that native to various Alkerdian plains. The domesticated variant makes for a good producer of the dairy products that supplements every Alkerdian’s diet. Their bulls also have prodigious strength and can sometimes be used in place of horses to pull wagon trains for caravans. Hoof to shoulder it is taller than the average alkerdian too and its charge is nothing to scoff at. Even wolves know better than to come at it from the front when in the presence of an enraged bull. They are surprisingly social animals to their owners however and contrary to what people think, it is not the bulls that lead their herds but their matriarch. Auroch have been known to hold a grudge for long periods of time and have excellent memories- from Philiarz Warnerskemander’s Bestiary for Adventurers: ‘Exotic Beasties and Where To Find Them.’

The taller Marshal was a suntanned woman with dark complexion, olive brown actually. She wore her uniform well; neatly pressed navy blue blazer, with coiffs and badges everything. It even had tasseled shoulder pads in steel gray. Her hair was also trimmed short over her round head, blonde hair—she might have looked like one of the Vanuatu Islanders. There was a parallel somewhere; she had Islander blood.

The woman towered over the much rotund Marshal who was no less serious, a permanent scowl seemingly etched onto his features making him look like an aggravated panda. He wasn't obese by any means, just fit and healthy. Not overeating, just genetics. With his hands behind his back, the man walked up to him

“Are you the [Captain] of this vessel?” he asked in a clipped tone as if he'd rather have been somewhere doing other things. Seemingly out of nowhere, he extracted his scrying slate, reading something from it.

“Yes, that would be me.”

“ How do I know it’s not something you stole from somewhere? You failed to provide a manifest , a description of a bill of lading. Not even your ship’s call sign was provided. “ the male Marshal spoke. “ Do you realize what sort of position you’ve put yourself in? Perhaps we could overlook the first infractions because your ship looks new; I’d wager this is your first port of call.“

The man was talking so fast that some of the words would have flown right over his head were he not in the know of what was being referred to . He was half inclined to believe he was monologuing.

“Hmm, I've seen younger and hot-blooded captains. Like that Phylandir's child―”

Arthur's eyes twitched—

“Hmm, Kira, please begin the inspection,” the man said as he twirled his well-oiled mustache. His eyes never left the scrying slate on his off hand.

“Yes Sir,” the woman said, promptly saluting and disappearing into the ship's bowels.

“As for you and whoever is on board at this moment you are all to congregate above deck and let her do her job. Any attempts at subversion will result in an impounding. I would hate to take such a vessel apart, my dear good man.” Fortunately, the adventurers seemed content to stand aside and let the man do his job. They were so taken with the activity around them they barely batted an eye at the griffin preening on the ship’s bow.

“Iron wood hull, how ostentatious. Hmm, I wonder—” the man said looking up from his scrying slate. Apparently, the information was being cataloged and sent to his slate; their colleague had to have their own artifact.

“ Does your vessel have a name?” the man asked, strutting around the deck. He peered at the panoramic obsiderite pane that you could look out from the living compartment, scowl deepening further when he realized what glass it was.

“ The Stormbreaker, she's barely a month old,” Arthur answered as a matter of fact.

“ Hmm, you tell the truth.” the man said. Arthur did not miss his eyes momentarily darting to the ring on his finger where a pinch sized truth crystal glowed.

“We have no records of a vessel called the Stormbreaker. Where are you from Master Arthur? Are you a noble?

“No, I am just a mage. I came from further inland―”

“ Hoh? Truth as well…” the man remarked. “ Yet there is something I cannot put a finger on―”

“ And pray tell, what might that be? Mister?”

“ Ah, of course…we didn’t introduce ourselves. How remarkably uncouth of me my good man,” The man exclaimed. His expression seemed to take an about turn as he removed his cap with a flourish. “ Port Marshal Bellic at your service.” his face mellowed just for an instant. A proud Kingsfellian so it seemed—but his stony expression reverted and set in like quick drying cement.

“ As to your query, I didn’t think a mage would captain their own vessel, my dear good man,” Marshal Bellic commented. He wiped the lint off his cap, reminiscent of a naval captain’s before he secured it atop his balding head.

“ That is what is rather peculiar―Ah,” his eyes suddenly seemed drawn to his scrying slate once again. He frowned looking back at Arthur who felt a sense of unease pervade his thoughts. His feelings were mirrored by Nevine and Elena, who had been standing right behind him all the while.

“ An arcane vessel…that would explain it.” Bellic said in exhalation. “ This complicates things. Do you have any weapons on board? I do not see cannons, or arbalesters—might explain why you got boarded.”

Arthur raised his brows. The scrying slates must have been top-of-the line to enable their continued use without a strong mana source or relay nearby.

“ [Investigator's Hunch] ...my colleague is an [Inspector], [Appraisal], [Analyze] and [Insight]—she has them all.” the Marshal answered his unspoken question. “ She tells me one of you is a [Necromancer]...”

‘Crap, is that a taboo class?’

“ Your friend will have to get his necromancer’s license…we like to keep tabs on them you see,” Marshal Bellic remarked. He got an arcane stylus from somewhere in his coat; it had a crystal nub like a rune etching pen and runes swirled around its length. He noted something on his scrying slate

Arthur let out an almost audible sigh of relief. To think that he feared getting into trouble with the authority right off the bat.

“ Right, now that is out of the way. A necromancer’s license will cost a crown―”

‘Damn, that’s like 10k bucks outta someone’s pocket ,’ Arthur left unspoken. The necromancer in question was slumped against the railing. He looked like he’d been roused from sleep; Arthur had no idea the man had gotten seasick. He had seemed rather subdued ever since he’d seen in after the gate.

“ I assume that he is not part of your crew?” the Marshal quirked a brow. Arthur nodded perfunctorily. “ Ah, I thought so too…mmh, with the amount of surcharges to your name I would hate to bankrupt you. Mind you I find people more forthcoming if I skip the posturing—unless of course they're criminals. And you are not a criminal are you Mage Sturmdrache?

“No, not at all…Marshal,” Arthur replied.

“Alright then—seems to me like this has been an honest misunderstanding and we seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot hereabouts,” the man said, extending his gloved hand. Arthur did the same and heaved another sigh of relief; it seemed the inspection was about to come to a close.

“However, we must follow the due process—”

“ As expected Marshal, “ Arthur said as tension eased from his body. The Marshal’s scowl seemed like something that was out of habit rather than a cold and boorish demeanor.

“ What do I owe you?”

“Ah, there are costs, of course; levies and taxes and the like. Would you like me to forward them to you?…,” Bellic motioned. ” If I could just have your scrying slate,” Arcis handed over the one they’d taken from the Seeker’s vessel. The Marshal superimposed his scrying slate on top of theirs; the slates flashed once before they returned it to Arthur.

“You have a penalty for the first three infractions, the first being the lack of maritime signals, including the associated flags and livery, the second not having your vessel emblazoned with any livery and identification sigaldry. The third well, I'll strike down the third since again, it was an honest mistake not communicating your crew manifest and cargo. Customs checks all of that….”

Arthur read in tandem with the Marshal’s oration of the breakdown. His literacy in Common had improved thanks to [Eidetic Memory] and whatever skill helped unobtrusive skill helped translate things.

“ Added to that is also a salvage tax…”

‘Salvage tax on wha―Oh, the drachenflieger counts as salvage? Thank the gods.’

“ I do hope for our sake you have a Quartermaster or an equivalent good man. This will take a while to process . We haven’t verified your identity yet; meaning you shall have to come with me. There is also a berthing levy you’ll have to pay for your vessel…which might I add, is unprecedented as we do not have a class for it. And therein will be the registration fee for your arcane vessel I think? Given that you are a mage and there is no mast or any sort of propulsion I can see,”

‘Damn,’ Arthur thought as he handed the scrying slate over to Elena. He had no idea how much coin they had left…maybe there was a bank he could check on his royalties?

“ Ah...hold on a par Mage Sturmdrache,”

“ Is anything the matter?”

The Marshal checked his scrying slate, and his expression seemed to morph from indifference to shock in the span of a breath. Arthur felt a pit form at the bottom of his stomach. He watched as the pudgy man gaped, lost for words. Then he put two fingers to his temple and started firing off

”[Urgent Message]! This is Port Marshal Bellic requesting emergency lockdown, gold level containment. Deploying anti scrying spells—get me more griffins in the air!”

The sudden occurence almost gave Arthur whiplash. As if they’d been waiting for the signal, there was a wing of a griffin already in the air. [Loud Voice] spells were used to direct the sea faring traffic, above, several Marshals deployed light spells demarcating the restricted airspace. A large aership hovered towards the Stormbreaker, cannons out of their gun ports. It didn’t seem to be dwarven―but that did not make Arthur any less ill at ease.

The youth broke a cold sweat. Was it the animus steel?— no that metal was seemingly nondescript. It didn't turn up much on his [Appraisal] unless he knew what he was looking for. Alarmed, the adventurers had already drawn their weapons arraying themselves along the perimeter of the deck. Several paces of sea had been cleared and the Port Authorities were making their way towards them.

“You boy, do you have any idea what you were carrying?!”

The movement from Port Orizohn to Port Aerion where the Marshals called their headquarters had been a blur of movement under heavy guard. The Stormbreaker was commandeered, amusingly with help from Arcis since they didn't know how to work it. Then they'd docked in the military section of the port, a series of aquatic caves overlooking the sea.

Their crafters, Enchanters and Appraisers were all over it like piranhas to the scent of blood—or was it sharks? Luckily, most of the things he didn’t want touched were in his [Inventory]. And they’d asked if he was carrying anything dangerous in any other form of storage magic; Arthur didn’t know much about the drachenflieger’s magitech to classify it as dangerous. Of course they’d told him to empty it; at which he proceeded to shove the Vouch of Identity in their faces. It was comical just how much it stopped them cold and made them reevaluate how they would treat him.

Arthur could not begrudge them for reacting like that. In fact, he'd expected some shoving around like the time at Aldmoor, where someone with authority would come to lord over him. Compared to the latter, it was laughably normal—like a boat crossing a maritime border and getting impounded.

Instead of getting slapped by magical suppression cuffs and thrown into an interrogation room he was led to the Port Marshal’s office. It had a nice view overlooking the sea―and it was on the fiftieth floor. Arthur had gotten his first experience of magical levitator on the way up. He shuddered to think what would have happened had he been a step too late. He could have been subjected to a strip search, maybe even divested of his obfuscation pendant and subjected to an [Identify] via artifact―they had one of those. Port security was no joke.

That said, Arthur had been sitting in the Port Marshal’s office for the past couple quarts or so. Forget sylvani horologyres, there was a pendulum clock in the corner of the room, which was also eerily silent except for the tinkles whenever a quart had passed. Anything else was barely of note―almost . There were no cushy chairs or flamboyant displays of paintings or other collectors items. But by no means was it bland.

A large window overlooked the port and the walls were mute color of spruce wax. Breaking up the monotone palette was the rich aged browns of furniture that had been in use for a long time.

Leather and wood binders were diligently arranged in the two shelves that hugged the two opposite walls while a large blue planter made of sea stone housed a type of frondy plant with pebbles covering the soil within. Crowning the room’s minimalism was the bone white skull of a knife head shark mounted above the window.

“ Say again where you got that relic class artifact?”

“ I’ve told you,” Arthur sighed for the umpteenth time. “ I happened upon it in the house I was leasing for my stay.”

“ And how did you get here again?”

“ Through a translocation gate,” Arthur groaned. Then overhead lux crystals were too harsh a glare for his liking even though the curtains behind the Marshal were drawn. His colleague loomed to the side of him, arms crossed as she leaned against the walls. Her eyes bored not into him but to Arcis right besides him as if locked in a staring contest.

The woman had Inspection skills, Arthur was sure of it and despite the fact that nothing could [Identify] the synth, he was not at ease that sooner or later her cover would be blown. The tension therein was like perpetually trying to hold a breath underwater and dreading the moment when his lungs would start to burn. And he hadn't even seen the actual city yet—Port Orizohn and its twin Port Aerion were a city unto themselves.

“ And, this translocation gate, how did you manage to make it work ?”

“ The Void Syndicate― we just happened to get caught up in it,” Arthur said, pleading wilful ignorance in his tone. It was true, he hadn't gotten around to asking the particulars of how things had gone with the gate.

In hindsight, it was better that way else it would have devolved into a can of worms that would've blown up in his face . Besides, if Arcis was capable of activating more gates they would be able to flit around the continent to look for his sister…if she too had ended up on Eryth like him. He’d spent retracing the events before his memory gaps in the last few days.

Of course there were more nose bleeds and headaches, minor even and Nora was there in case something went awry―that was beside the point. Right about then as antsy as a creche kid waiting for the last bell; he wanted the vacation to hurry by so he could set the groundwork for the search.

“ Hmm, do you have any details on what these people looked like?”

“No idea, I wasn't exactly a frontliner. Am a mage and enchanter you understand…”

His initial decision to only come out as an [Aeromancer] wouldn’t have held out under scrutiny for long anyway. Arthur decided that half-truths wouldn’t do any harm.

“Was there anyone with you that was as you said, a frontliner? Closer to the thick of things?”

Arthur folded his arms and leaned against the backrest.

“My daughter,” Arthur shrugged, motioning to Arcis. His story was the same; every juncture they arrived at that point he'd always tell them that his daughter was there. How exactly, was something he refused to say. The Marshal kneaded his brows again. Perhaps exasperated because he could not get why the daughter had been in the midst of danger―yet the truth crystals did not lie.

“ You say that Mage, Enchanter, you do not lie. However your daughter is peculiar…Your obfuscation artifact I understand, but what could a wee waif be hiding?” the other Marshal finally spoke. Breaking eye contact. Arcis smiled with glee having won the staring contest unflinchingly.

“ Well…it's a family thing you see I can’t reveal that…” Arthur said. Though he took care not to appear smug to the woman. They couldn't pressure him either because the Vouch of Identity was as good as a diplomatic passport. Taking it out from the get go was paying dividends. Their [Appraisal] specialists fell over themselves to verify it— It was amazing that it was even that long.

“ Ah, I understand…a rare class at such a young age?” the Marshal murmured and nodded, jotting down the detail on his scrying slate. Arthur couldn’t be bothered to correct him― if parents obfuscating rare classes was a normal thing then all the better for him.

Elsewhere Arcis was interested in the slate and the stylus he was using. The diamond tipped nub and runes glowed everytime the man put it down to the slate as he wrote. So curious to see what else the stylus and slate combination could do that she slid off her chair and went out, much to the surprise of all the adults in the room. The female Marshal had an questioning glance,

“She can be a handful sometimes…” Arthur said, smiling as several questions ran through his mind. A few casions later she was back from what was the waiting lobby where the rest of the crew was. Brunhilde and the adventurers were also being quizzed about their encounter with the Skullmonger raiders as well as their corroborative statements regarding their appearance in Kingsfell.

“May I?” Arcis asked, holding up the dwarven scrying slate they'd taken from the drachenflieger. The Marshal stopped mid-writing and furrowed their brows. He shook his head mumbling something about precocious daughters and slid the stylus over to Arcis. The adults watched with interest as the synth sketched in record time, five mug shots of the void syndicate members on her scrying slate.

“ You!” the lady Marshal gawked, suddenly in Arcis’s face. “How?!”

Arthur hadn’t even seen her move around the table. Her muscled hands were on Arcis’ shoulder.

‘Arcis! What’d you do that for?!’ Arthur internally broke a sweat. Outwardly of course, he kept the picture of a proud father.

“ Like Papa said, issa no no,” the synth smiled back unabashedly, and then winked at her father.

“ Think of this as goodwill; that’s just part of what she can do as you can see that is why I’ve gone all this length to obfuscate her class.” Arthur said, playing along. Throwing improvs his way would have made him flounder were it not for the mental clarity from [Eye of the Storm].

“ Kira…that’s enough” Marshal Bellic chastened. “ Let her be. My gratitude Mage Sturmdrache…I assure you not a word of your daughter’s abilities shall leave this room” the middle aged Marshal said as he pointedly looked at his colleague with a glower.

“ But!—The Institute should know about this…Imagine how much work it’ll save us at the Port. If we could just capture the smugglers like this―”

“ Don’t scrying crystal’s work the same way?” Arthur posited. Kira looked at him as if he was inane. The Marshal used his slate to tap theirs―they seemed to be holding their breaths, it flashed and the sketches, white against the vellum blueprint like surface of the scrying slate, were copied onto the other slate.

Letting out a quivering breath as if he’d had his fingers crossed, Marshal Bellic said, “ a scrying crystal can only be attuned to one slate at a time. Of course several scrying crystals can too…that has been the way. The Institute has been trying to see how we can share images on our slates to no avail…”

“ Ah,” Arthur nodded in understanding. ‘ So the in-ship surveillance system might be on the table after all,’

“ Of course if you are willing, we could contract you for your services. Capturing still images shall keep you in the Port Marshals’ good graces―this would save us the expenditure on a [Magical Painter] to have to do it every single time we have a suspect on scrying crystal.”

Their dialogue was suddenly interrupted when someone barged into the room.

Bellic whirled wanting to chasten whoever had entered without knocking, before the energy went out of him. He bit back his words as he slumped back to his chair.

“ Mage-Lieutenant An’zeroth…”

“ Marshal-Commander Bellic,” the new entrant replied in salute.

Arthur recalled her as the sylvani who’d taken his Vouch of Identity for verification; at the time he hadn’t paid much attention to her, thinking her as just another one of Elena's kindred. Now he wasn’t so sure She was some sylvani or not? Her ears were sharp and pointed, not the floppy knife edged ears of typical sylvani like Elena’s. With exotic brows and upturned eyes, she had Oriendalian features.

The woman walked around to Marshal Bellic’s side whereupon back and forth whispers and not inconspicuously stolen glances were exchanged between them. It seemed an obfuscation ward had gone up, a scant few handspans from them. After a few casions, Marshal Bellic ran his hand over his face in resignation and flicked the other towards the sylvani.

“ Your Vouch of Identity has been verified Mage Sturmdrache…, you have no obligations with us save for those of financial nature. A grace period of five days shall be given to clear your dues before we are forced to claim your ship.”

“ Right…” Arthur started. Arcis had already grabbed the scrying slate before the sylvani had come in, but one or another there would be further questions concerning the sketches. A problem for future Arthur perhaps.

Marshal Kira’s inscrutable expression was hard to parse, but the frustration in her gaze was unmistakable. Arthur could not help but smile, even as the other Marshal slumped in defeat as if the rag had been pulled out from under him. He too would have felt the same if he was the one in Marshal Bellic’s shoes. Maybe it was a career making moment that’d just been put on hold.

“ Master Sturmdrache, may I call you that?” the sylvani’sh woman said. She wore a different uniform; burgundy in colour with different sigils from the Marshals. And clutched in her hands was more ornate scrying slate with gold inlays and an arcane stylus in a notch. Arthur nodded curtly.

“My name is An’zoreth and I am here to affirm that your identity has been reliably vouched for,” she said. An'zoreth a small button nose and and on closer examination, her upturned eyes had ruby eye shade at the edges. Her short cropped hair had the appearance of pink moss and eyelashes and brows were all pink too. She was a very pretty woman and she no doubt knew that.

“ If you would please follow me―” An’zoreth said, drawing Arthur out of his mesmer. As Arthur and Arcis stepped into the lobby right behind the sylvani, the rest of the crew stood. There were two other Marshal offices on opposite sides and one exit. The one exit was being manned by a retinue of stiff jawed Mage Guards holding their battle staves as they would rifles.

Contrary to An’zoreth’s get-up which was more suited behind a desk, they seemed decked out in raiments fit for the field. Arthur swore their gazes could bore through a granite wall if they kept it up long enough. They weren’t remotely hostile but their countenance might have intimidated anyone else.

Brunhilde and the adventurers were also there, standing where the seats could not accommodate them. It seemed that their interrogations or interviews, whichever, had ended earlier than his.

‘Finally,’ Arthur smiled as he stared at the back of the woman at the heading of the throng. Her boots made a clicking sound that had a metallic ting at the end drawing his attention to the steel capped stilettos. Alongside the footsteps of the Mage Guards were the discordant footfalls of the rest of the group as they bantered along the rustic hallways towards the magilev lobby.

There was loud chatter as they entered the atrium hosting the levitators. More uniformed people walked around the large open space with a vaulted ceiling; Two Mage guards in their field uniform herded along an orc in cuffs while a very important personage was walked elsewhere, escorted by his own private guard. One side of the atrium had magical levitators, disorging groups of people every other par.

They never broke stride as he was led to one of the arcane contraptions that had ferried him into the heights of the caldera rim. The large group, now drawing the attention all of and sundry split up into two, An’zeroth led Arthur and his screw plus one Mage Guard while the rest bundled themselves with the adventurers―the magical levitators could carry as many as twenty people.

There wasn't even a lurch of motion as it moved. Glossy gray marble making up the magical lift's walls reflected blurry visages of his group as they travelled downwards. It might have been a silent ride but An’zoreth kept stealing glances at him from the edge of her eyes.

”You have a question,” Arthur furrowed his brow as he caught a glimpse of her aquamarine irises.

“You seem at ease with the magilev; most first timers will cling to the hand rails,” she replied, pointedly looking at the supports on either side of the lift. Arthur noticed Nora, Nevine, Elena and even Thaddeaus were clinging to the hand rails. Nora didn’t want to be showed up and hurriedly let go. She sidled closer to Arthur with a furious blush on her cheeks.

‘Uh, oh…’ ”What can I say? I have a sailor’s legs,” Arthur replied

”Hmm, are you a seafarer or an air farer I wonder Master Sturmdrache.” she smiled thinly. “ Seems kind of strange for a sea faring vessel to have aerostat floats if you ask me—”

Arthur sighed ,“Well...” he shrugged, looking at his crew . “ Since you seem like you already know everything about my ship,what's the question for?”

“I wonder,” she smiled again.

“You just love pushing people's buttons don't you?” Arthur said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Strange expression—annoying people hmm?― Ah, here we are,” An'zoreth said as the magilev doors slid open. The group of eight strode through another hallway once again. This time, it had an open view of the outside. Arthur could not help but raise his brows in awe as they traversed the passage with wall to floor glass arches overlooking Port Aerion's main harbor below. The speed of the magical levitator made the height and direction they’d traveled indiscernible. He was sure he’d been facing the opposite side.

Beyond the caldera, a tunnel bored the other side. And over the top of the surrounding rim, he could see the city of Kingsfell in the horizon. So lost in the view he was that he didn’t realize they’d come to a stop in front of large double doors. The Mage Guards came to a rousing halt as two more of their number manning the entrance opened it for the group.

“ Welcome to the ambassadorial suite Master Sturmdrache. On behalf of the Port Marshals I would like to tender my apologies for a misstep in due process” An’zoreth started. “ Seeing as the day is at a wane, I would like to fast-track your residency in Kingsfell, assuming that is what had been your intention,” the sylvani said with a winning smile.

Every gaze landed on him with expectation.

“ I think that’s just about it yes…” Arthur said, mussing the hair at the back of his head.

“ I hoped that would be the case…” An’zeroth replied. She motioned for them to take their seats around the suite and promptly got down to business.

“ Now then…what would you say to becoming a Citizen of Kingsfell? Given the circumstances I was apprised of,” An’zeroth said as she looked at something on her slate, “ I was told your ship does not really have a flag of origin―”

“ Fine fine…let's get all the hassle done…”Arthur motioned. He couldn’t wait to see the city proper. ‘The sooner we get over the paperwork, the better…’

“ Is that so…?” An’zeroth nodded. “ Well, then could I please have your scrying slate for a summary of charges incurred so that we can get that out of the way first?”

Arcis scooted over to the sylvani and handed over the slate. The exchange barely took a blink and she returned to Arthur’s side.

Displayed on the scrying slate’s crystal blue glassy surface reminiscent of blueprint vellum was an invoice. The first intangible invoice Arthur had seen outside of electronic ones―however long it had been since then. While it brought him excitement that magic was potentially going to give him back a semblance of modern life, there was no escaping the bane of keeping those conveniences.

“ Ah, Arthur…that is a lot of gold.” Elena choked a squeak.

“ I know…” Arthur said.

“ We have a grace period of 5 days,” Nora added.

“Hmm,” Arthur nodded, the wheels grinding in his head.

“ Miss An’zeroth…” Arthur called out.

“ Yes?” An’zeroth said, looking over from the opposite seat , as she crossed her legs.

“ How much for a bounty on the Void Syndicate?”

“ Lots of crowns,” the sylvani hummed.

‘Yes!’ Arthur mentally fist pumped.

“ But, irrespective of the information, bounty clauses stipulate a nundine is taken to verify all particulars…”

“ Can we, I don’t know…fast track it?” Arthur said, pulling up the sketches Arcis had made on the scrying slate. He had already resigned to do whatever it took to get their ship out from an impending impound…and a massive debt.

“ Ah…this is unprecedented Master Sturmdrache,” the woman said with unveiled surprise. “I am afraid, this being a first of its kind might take more than a month…”

‘Well, fuck!’

The bay window revealed the sun disappearing into the western horizon. Silhouettes of ships dotted the skyline and the lux crystals and mage lights were already beginning to light up the city beyond. It was a beautiful sight—the picture of a new start, new possibilities.

The fact that they were starting broke however, left an unpalatable taste in his mouth. That was not how a vacation was supposed to go—two in a row. The first one ended prematurely and landed him in Eryth robbed of his memory. The second one, well…. he'd claw his way up again come what may—just like he'd done after meeting Aeskyre.