The cogs decked the port, and I watched my lady’s eyes glitter as she watched the pier crowded with dockers. They were moving the cargo off the recently moored ship, with the occasional rhythm of sailor hymns hastening their pace. The bustling noise of dockers drowned the chatter around the street on the seaside. The stevedores carried the weight on their backs, waist bent to reduce the intensity of the load. Some clever ones had [Weightless] spells to do the task and help out the dockers. But, internal casting prevented them from expending too much mana, so the physical labor was not tradable.

The fleet ships were docked away from the trade port, more toward the right, and appeared imposing even with their folded sails. Multiple masts sprung from their decks, and the fleet militia didn’t excuse this street either. The port guards climbed the gangplank, and I spared them a few extra glances as they rummaged the cogs in search of potential threats. Cannons? Gunpowder? I didn’t know what, but the seamen certainly seemed less than enthused by their unsolicited actions.

I wasn’t entertained by the idea of sailing for a few days. It was a harsh journey through the blues, whether a cruise ship or a merchant cog that was probably used by many people. And I didn’t like the cramped rooms under the deck. But most of all, no fresh bread for close to a week sounded dreadful. But my lady seemed interested in the idea of sailing despite her apparent dislike toward filth.

The sailors guild, along with many other establishments, loomed on the left side of the street decked with modified pavements of [Umbra]. Shades of black titles, which wasn’t an unusual occurrence in ports, spread all around the place, the chimneys oozing out little smoke compared to the capital. The weather was warmer around the ports, for the water covered too much of the land of the realm to cool abruptly. The pavements gleamed under the flickering light of mana lamp post that ran along the right, lighting the wooden stairs that descended to the quayside below. There was no shore, at least not on this side of the city.

It wasn’t my first time at the port, but it certainly was my first visit to Achlon. As far as the sailor’s guild was concerned, I hadn’t visited any, so little did I know about the inner working. According to common knowledge, it was just an extension of the merchant guild and a subsidiary that issued sailor passes. But our company of the drunkards certainly knew more, and the old prince and his attendant had abandoned us in the middle of the streets to finish the business of stealing a cog.

Don’t ask me how to steal a ship without a ship. I am netiher a drunkard nor a prince. I am undead.

Letitia certainly enjoyed the lone time, and her eyes darted from the flotsam to the dockers and the glittering lamps. She held my hands and stood close to me, and Garlan was nowhere in sight.

“This is phenomenal, Rudolf!” she beamed, turning her face toward me and hugging my hand. “I can’t wait to get on that thing!”

“It’s a cog, my lady,” I said. “And those,” I pointed to the ships docked at the distant right, “are fleet ships. Also, aren’t you too excited?”

She coughed and let go of my hand, masking her elation with a stoic face. “Mongrel, how dare you impinge my elation? If your woman wants to smile, she will. No questions asked.”

“My lady,” I corrected her, and she just clicked her tongue.

“Don’t they mean the same thing?” she raised her eyes, took a step back, and placed her arms on her waist. “You woman and your lady. How about you address me as ‘my woman’ from now on?”

“Isn’t that Garlan?!” I pointed in the direction of the fish mart at the other end of the street.

“Mongrel!” she hit my chest lightly but, nonetheless, looked in the direction straight across, straining her toes to get a clear view above the commuters dressed in brownish garbs.

I chuckled and lifted her up, watching her ears turning rosy with much amusement.

“Put me down, mongrel,” she kicked my abdomen and shook erratically. “I saw him.”

She turned away from me once I helped her down, and I glanced at Garlan, tied in ropes, walking with two other men. One had a prominent scar racing down his chin to his bare chest that was devoid of hair. Young, probably too much. And he appeared tiny before the two enormous silhouettes tagging behind. They walked straight into the guild, but Gralan stopped short as his eyes fell on us amidst the commuters.

“That’s my crew!” he shouted, garnering accusing stares of the people around. “Bastard, help me out!”

“Shut your trap, felon!” an old man sandaled at him. “Traitors have no crew! Honorable death should be the only outcome.”

“Come again?!” Garlan glared at the old man, who quickly disappeared back to the crowd. The men removed Garlan’s ropes after sharing a crafty smile.

“Where the hell did you hide, bastard! Come out!” Garlan bellowed, scanning the waning crowd for the old man. The latter had hurried down the stairs with haste that wasn’t befitting his age. “And you,” Garlan stormed in our direction, “they fucking told me you were the ones who sold me out, Letitia!”

“Lady Letitia,” my lady’s cold voice stopped short his insults.

“But–“

“You didn’t compromise, mutt,” my lady rolled her eyes. “And I never offer anything twice.”

Garlan gritted his teeth and turned to trash his rage at me.

I raised my palm and stopped him. “We didn’t order them anything, bread lad. The culprit is stealing a cog inside the guild, so you can wait until he is done with the job.”

Garlan’s face eased, and his eyes glinted with joy at the mention of stealing. “So, another sabotage, huh,” he looked toward the docked cogs. “There’s not a good cog in the wharf. I’d rather have the fleet ship sailing the open waters.”

“Aren’t you supposed to trash the man?”

“Are you crazy, Rudolf?” he reeled closer to us, forcing me to bend my head. My lady was short, but I saw annoyance strapped on her face, for she didn’t have to adjust her height. “Do you even know how much bread a cog and the goods in the orlop is worth? Almost a year’s supply, Rudolf. And you are telling me to smack my money bag? How about you ask me to stab my thigh next time?”

“How will the ship become ours, mutt?!” my lady was thrilled with the idea, but she paced her emotions well.

“We’ll sabotage the crew who will sabotage–” Garlan stopped short as he earned a smack from behind. We hadn’t noticed the old prince’s attendant.

“Long time, Garlan,” the lady had a ferocious smile on her face. “How many times are you planning to backstab us?”

“I should have known you would be around these bastards,” Garlan glared at the three people. “That was entirely your fault, Milan. If you paid me squarely, I wouldn’t have bothered to have any future dealings with you! You bastards brought it on yourselves when you decided to throw me off the cog!”

“But that was a good strategy, Milan,” the little boy pitched in, scratching his bare chest. He was probably close to my lady’s age or younger, but he lacked two teeth on the front. There was a cutlass over his grimy white pants that were wrapped around the waist with tangled threads. “This fat ass got brains and blubber, ay!”

“You want some, Var?” Garlan smacked the boy’s head hard. The latter kicked my bread lad’s groin, but Garlan had expected it. So, dodging came naturally, and the boy earned another smack. “Why are you people here, anyway?”

“We aren’t friends, Garlan,” Milian crossed her arms over her chest. “And the ones your owner–“

“I’m don’t own this prevent.”

“She doesn’t own me.”

I tacitly took a step back and let them glare at each other.

“We are the envoys of Halurath Isles and not petty thieves like you,” she said, struggling to keep her voice down. No one heard her, nevertheless, for the port folks were walking at a distance from us after staring at the crew. The study man puffed out air from his nose in pride. He didn’t talk, and I doubted he could. At least for now.

“More like the outcasts of the Isles,” Garlan laughed, ignoring the repugnant stares he garnered from the two. The boy was probably ethnic, for his skin was pale, unlike the darker tone of the people from the Isles. The story behind this random assortment was none of my concern. Nor was I remotely interested in knowing more mortals than I already knew. My lady and her villainess friends kept my hands tied, and Garlan wasn’t any better.

The prince returned shortly with a man dressed in a red sleeveless and buttonless jacket that left most of the hair on his upper body exposed to the air. His baggy brown pants and a tricorn hat helped him adorn an appearance befitting that of a captain. This was our prey, and I was excited to see how the one-handed prince would capture him.

“Nothing less from you, Lykan,” the man nodded, staring at my lady blatantly. I moved between them, and my lady gripped my hand after a grunt. “You helped me pick out my crew too. Always thankful for the help, seaman. The best crew I’ve ever led. Want no command twice, work harder than dockers, easy on money. Earned a lot on them.”

And he will take your neck, mortal. There was no free bread in any of the worlds.

“Drop at us the Malab Harbor, Captain Pedro,” Lykan said, repulsiveness seeping out of his eyes like dripping honey. I wonder why the commoner wasn’t able to sense it.

“You ask, I help, Lykan,” He tried to stare at my lady again. “That the Ulley?”

“Not Ulley, but an aristocrat,” Lykan said, motioning me to move away. I did, but not without resistance. “They hired us as her guards.”

“No maids?” he gave me a confused glance before scanning his eyes over my lady. Was he suspicious? I wondered, but my lady’s gown was ostentatious within her cloak to dismiss her for a commoner. “Heard noblewomen got maids. Can’t see around.”

I nudged my cloak to let it flutter in the sea breeze and showed him my suit. “She has a butler.”

“Weird, but aboard is where we talk! Ships sail, men drink, and fishes swim, ahoy! Captains glare, crew work, birds fly, ahoy!” he grinned, scratching his balding head. Probably the seawater was adversely affected his hair, but the man didn’t seem to mind. Also, that was some awful singing. “Usually, we don’t sail night. Winds are bad. Lights don’t help. But fire and wind attributes make up. Five mages on board. Excellent crew, and we don’t charge much.”

“Is that why I pad three thousand shins?” Lykan asked, his hands folded to a fist beside him. “Even though I picked up your crew?”

“Business, Lykan,” Pedro laughed, raising his black tricorn hat with his forefinger. “That’s my ship. The one floating in shallow waters. Good one. Sturdy one. And one with the resilience of great seamen.”

Were we looking at the same cog? All I could see was a tattered ship with a single almost broken mast that wouldn’t survive one storm in the sea. Was I too inexperienced in sailing?

We followed the man silently, Lykan’s crew ‘really’ guarding my lady vigilantly. Sure, they wouldn’t run away first should some crazy mages hurl some fire at my lady. Outstanding guards that I could count on, indeed.

The stench of the fish market at the end of the road made the casual journey more complicated, and even my lady, who loved fishes, wasn’t excited to see the seamen pacing around us.