There was noise down below. Despite the obnoxiously late hour, something seemed to have garnered the attention of the rowdier folk on the east side of Cardinal. There was shouting and small firecrackers popping noisily. Tobin’s blackout curtains kept the harsh city lights out of his room, but they could do nothing for the infuriating noise.

He had always been an incredibly light sleeper, and with an early start intended for the next morning, he was growing frustrated.

Finally, after another holler echoed up from the street, Tobin threw off the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

He rubbed at his eyes as he strode towards the window and threw the curtains back to peer blearily down into the street. There was a group congregated there. They were all dressed primarily in black but were bathed in the various coloured hues of the city lights. They’d formed a semi-ring around an android. It was an outdated model, by the looks of it, but the noise he’d thought were firecrackers were actually the sounds of the bullets from silencers bouncing off its exposed metal hide.

Tobin frowned. Some of the outdated models were dysfunctional, but the androids had still been programmed with basic human emotions to make them more loyal and better at their jobs. It seemed cruel to strip it of the layer of plastic and fake flesh that coated it and torment it in the dead of night like this.

Tobin considered reporting the gathering to the authorities. They were engaging in reckless, disruptive behaviour well past city curfew. But just as he turned to head down the hall and stir a fuss, he caught sight of the sleeve of one of the individuals. It was five stories below, but the light caught in just the right way that he was able to see the emblazoned purple and yellow stripes of the regional military. Cadets most likely, but still, their ranking was likely the reason the midnight party hadn’t already been broken up.

Tobin frowned and clucked his tongue against his teeth. It went beyond a noise disruption. This was an abuse of rank as well as a safety hazard. Discharging firearms in a public street – regardless of the hour – was dangerous and against regulations. All it took was one stray bullet bouncing off the android’s metal hide to injure someone.

He had a hefty ceramic pitcher filled with water on his desk, which sat pushed against the window. While smirking as a devious thought struck him, Tobin leaned forward and twisted the latches holding his window closed before pushing the two panes open. The cadets had set their little game directly below his window, so Tobin hoisted the pitcher onto the sill and dumped it forward to spill the cold water down into the street below.

He was just setting it aside when startled shouts began to rise from the alleyway. He poked his head out to see the various cadets scowling angrily up at him. A few were shaking water from their wet shirts.

“What gives, do you have any idea who we are?” one hollered up while shaking a fist.

Tobin leaned out the window a bit further and returned the frown. “Tobin Warinford,” he called down. He didn’t usually like to throw his title around, but it was incredibly satisfying to watch the cadets pale. “Now clean up your mess and pack it up, and I might just forget to report you all in the morning.”

A few hasty apologies and mutterings were tossed up to him, but Tobin was barely listening. He had an early morning that would be followed by what he imagined was going to be a long, tiresome day. Now that the situation was dealt with, all he wanted was a good night’s sleep.

He pulled his window shut and made his way back to his bed before sinking back down under the covers. Finally, it was quiet and he was able to drift off to sleep.

***

Tobin shifted his position and turned the page in his paperback. The outside world sped past in a blur of green and blue as the train chugged along down the tracks. The loud horn blared once and then faded out to leave them with only the rickety sound of the cars moving along.

He had spent most of the two-hour trip in relative silence, content not to strike up a conversation with his father, who sat across from him with his head bent over a few maps and documents.

Farren Warinford was a tall, burly man with buzzed black hair and a short, full beard. He wore a dark navy suit decorated with pendants, and a pair of thin-rimmed glasses sat low on his nose as he read. As the top commander of the region’s military forces, Tobin’s father had numerous responsibilities and inspired deep respect from his forces, but Tobin knew him as stern and clinical, even with his family.

Farren had raised him and instilled in him a strong sense of responsibility, but while Tobin valued bettering their society and protecting the people, he often struggled between obligation and his own desires. He’d sacrificed a lot of normalcy at his father’s command, and now it seemed, he was to surrender even more.

He didn’t have a leg to stand on to argue with the arrangement, but he felt it was crossing a line; not that his father would ever accept that, so Tobin kept his mouth shut and tried to focus on the text in his hands. It was a detailed recounting from one of the battles during the war, from a soldier’s perspective. Farren always insisted his son know his history, especially when it came to strategy and warfare.

“We should be arriving soon.” Tobin glanced up from the book as his father finally spoke. Farren was removing his reading glasses from his nose and his gaze was now fixated on Tobin. “We’ll head straight to the docks when we disembark. It would be poor manners to be late. I trust you’ve brought your best attitude?”

“Of course, father,” Tobin agreed.

Farren hmmed and continued to stare him down. “You know that Captain Rizzetto controls all ports and access routes to each of the southern isles. A partnership is crucial to keep trade routes open as well as secure essential resources for our continued survival. The council wants this diplomatic visit to pass by without a hitch. Do you understand the importance of this situation?”

“Yes, father,” Tobin agreed. He sighed and glanced out the window for a moment as they sped along. While he was sure his father noticed his reluctance to continue this line of conversation, he was not deterred.

“Captain Rizzetto is my concern. I will host him and discuss all business. You are to play escort to his daughter. Lescelli will be accompanying her father and you are going to make her feel welcome. A marriage alliance would provide no end of wealth to our country and Captain Rizzetto is currently seeking suitors for her hand. I want you at the front of that pack, are we clear?”

“I understand, sir,” Tobin replied. He bit his tongue to hold back his true opinion on the matter. He had sacrificed his childhood, a social life, and all semblance of normalcy to his father and the military. He had no desire to sacrifice romance as well, but despite being twenty years old, he had no control yet over his life and no means of rising above his father’s explicit wishes and commands.

The conversation lulled after that as his father lost interest and returned to his charts. Tobin continued to stare out the window watching the rocky terrain and various shrubbery zoom by. Arranged marriages weren’t so common anymore as they were in the war times when families would try to ensure the best possible match for their children and the continued survival of the town, but they did still happen, especially among the higher-ranking families to ensure that wealth and power remained close at hand. Alliances and deals were struck over wedding vows, and Tobin had always assumed his father would barter an agreement over his freedom, but it had never been set in stone until now.

He knew nothing of Lady Lescelli, of her hobbies or interests or upbringing, but he did know that he was expected to woo her in her month-long stay. He was also certain that he didn’t want to, regardless of how lovely or kind she may be. He wanted more out of his life still than to be shackled to a wife and the burdens of a household he hadn’t chosen for himself. He sighed.

Thankfully, his exasperation was concealed by the blare of the train’s whistle, or his father may have scolded him on it. Tobin thanked the heavens as the train slowed and then lurched to a stop as it pulled into the station. Finally, he would at least be able to stretch his legs. He rose from his seat and pulled his bag down from the overhead compartment. Out of ingrained courtesy, he also grabbed his father’s and went to sling it over his shoulder when Farren shook his head.

“Appreciations on the gesture, Tobin, but I will carry my own things. Go on ahead and make sure there’s a carriage waiting for us.”

Tobin dipped his head at his father’s instruction and slipped silently out of their car. He shuffled down the aisle with the slew of other people disembarking until he was standing on a wooden boarding deck. It was outside, shaded only by a tall wood overhang, and beyond was a cobbled road and squat, brick buildings of various colours. Mostly were only one to two stories tall, a few stretching to a max of four. The sky was bright and dotted in puffy clouds, and if Tobin looked the other way, he could see the wide bay beyond.

He’d never been to Prewport before, but it was the closest port town to the city and it was where Captain Rizzetto’s ship would be docking. Already it was a vastly different atmosphere from the city, which was full of skyrises and noisy traffic. Here, it looked like they used wood-burning stoves and horses as their main means of transportation. It was foreign to him, but Tobin found he liked it. They would be staying in the town for at least a week or two of the trip. Rizzetto didn’t seem keen on staying in the city. Staying here wouldn’t be so bad, Tobin decided.

There were people pooling around him, trying to get off or on the train, so Tobin shook himself free from his thoughts and stepped further forward. He made his way across the platform and down to the edge of the road. There was a carriage there and the driver seemed to be waiting. The carriage was secured to two tall horses. One was a deep chestnut with a stripe down its nose and a shaggy dark brown mane, while the other was a mottled gray and white colour and a sandy mane. He’d seen horses before when he went to the racetracks with his father, but he had never been this close to one of them. They were beautiful.

Tobin lifted a hand and placed it on the short fur of the brown horse’s neck. He petted it gently, enjoying the feel beneath his fingers when the driver cleared his throat. “Mr. Warinford?” the man inquired. Tobin glanced up at him. He was perched on a shelf-like seat at the front of the carriage. He wore a slightly dishevelled suit and a patched hat but had a friendly smile as he inquired.

Tobin nodded. “Yes, well, my father, rather. He’s still disembarking. He shouldn’t be more than a minute or two.”

The man nodded and jerked a hand behind him. “Well, climb on up, no sense standing there holding a heavy bag. You need a hand?”

“No. Thank you,” Tobin replied. He couldn’t keep a smile off his face as he made his way around to set his bag inside the cart. He enjoyed the driver’s friendly, informal attitude. It was a refreshing change from how people treated him back in the city.

His father came up behind him as he was getting into the carriage, which put a damper on any further casual conversing he might have done with the driver.

Once his father was seated and settled, he provided instructions for the marina, and they were off. Tobin spent the trip looking around and listening to the clopping of the horse hooves against the cobblestone road. The sun was warm, there was only a slight breeze that smelled strongly of saltwater. It was a nice change of pace.

His father still had his head buried in a series of documents and the last thing Tobin wanted was to disturb the man. Then he might want to talk more about Lady Lescelli and how he was expected to court her. He didn’t imagine there was a subtle way to court a woman, and he wouldn’t be surprised if she would be well aware of his instructed intent from the first moment. If her father was openly searching, she probably knew. He wouldn’t be very impressed if someone was only spending time with him because they were ordered to – he was familiar with the feeling – and the entire arranged marriage thing began to feel even dumber the more he thought about it.

At least the scenery was lovely. The houses were colourful, the shops lined with striped awnings and decorative signs, and there were plenty of trees and flowerbeds to add natural beauty on top of it all. To match the town of Prewport, the ocean sparkled with iridescent light and was lined with cresting whitecaps stirred up by the wind. They weren’t yet close enough, but Tobin was fairly certain he could see a ship on the horizon. It was probably Captain Rizzetto’s.

Though he never looked up, Farren Warinford seemed to already know the ship was approaching the harbour, because he coughed noisily. “We are on a tight schedule and need to get to the port as quickly as possible,” he instructed.

The driver dipped his head. “Of course, sir,” he agreed. He snapped the reins and clucked his tongue, and the horses sped up from a casual walk to a quick trot. The brisker pace was a little noisier, but at least the bustling streets were not so clogged that it ran the risk of injuring someone. As the carriage continued along, the air shifted from the crisp, salty smell of the ocean, to something heavenly. When Tobin was a child, he would sneak down to the kitchens where the halls would be wreathed in the scents of baking cookies. Most of their bread and pastries were imported from the smaller towns, but cookies were something that his father’s chef loved to make, and Tobin loved the smell of them cooking. If he lingered long enough, he used to be able to sneak one or two.

Now he could have them whenever he liked – within reason – but he missed the elation that came with successfully smuggling the treats as a child.

He turned his head to follow the scent. The carriage was rolling past a two-story building with a small, outdoor eating area fenced in with picket posts and wicker tables and chairs. Halliwin Bakery was scrawled in flowy cream letters in the windows, and bright blue flowers were in full bloom out front. He almost wanted to stop. They’d skipped lunch to catch the train, and he felt a pastry would be the perfect thing to sate his appetite.

“This place looks nice,” he commented before he thought to hold his tongue.

His father grunted in response. “Perhaps it’s someplace you can take Lescelli while Rupert and I discuss private matters this afternoon,” he suggested before falling silent again. Tobin held a sigh in. That was the last thing he cared about.

The carriage left the bakery behind and turned down a slightly bumpier road that ran straight to the docks. Tobin’s mood fouled further the closer they drew to the water.

Just before the road faded away to sand and the wooden slats of the wide marina dock, the driver pulled the carriage to a halt. Farren took a moment to fold his papers away into a briefcase that he left on the floor of the carriage as he stood. “What’s the trouble for you to wait here? We’re meeting passengers aboard the steamer pulling in to port and will require further transportation from there.”

“No trouble at all, sir. I’ll just water the horses in the meantime.”

Farren nodded and stepped down from the cart and gestured in Tobin’s direction. “Let’s go, Tobin; it’s best if we’re there waiting when the ship docks. First impressions are crucial,” he reminded.

Tobin nodded and climbed out of the carriage after his father. The trip across the marina was swift and silent, and Tobin kept his hands folded behind his back as he waited by his father’s side.

Most of the ships at the docks were large and wooden, with billowing white sails and mermaid carvings on their fronts, but the ship pulling in was formed of thick metal sheeting, with smoke spilling stacks rising from the center. A steam engine powered on burning wood and coal, and boiling water. They were less common – more expensive to run and maintain – but faster and more efficient in rougher weather. Tobin wasn’t surprised that Rupert Rizzetto would own and captain one, as one of the wealthiest trade owners in the southern islands.

When it finally docked, several sailors disembarked first, carrying cargo and swarming over the docks like rats in a back alleyway. Finally, Captain Rizzetto appeared and descended the ramp down to the dock. He was dressed in a crisp blue suit and a captain’s hat, and his long, dark brown hair was pulled into a tail behind his head. He sported stern brown eyes and a curled moustache, and he greeted Tobin’s father with a firm handshake.

“The trip was favourable?” Farren inquired once the initial salutations were exchanged.

“Very,” Rupert replied. “The waters couldn’t have been smoother. You’ll have to make the trip out to the isles sometime, Farren, you look too pale, not enough sun.”

“Perhaps one day,” Farren agreed. “I’d like for you to meet my son, Tobin.”

Tobin stepped forward and offered his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Rupert nodded and returned the shake with a firm squeeze. “Son eh? I’ve heard of you, boy. Good to meet you.”

“I brought Tobin along when I heard Lescelli was accompanying you, Rupert. I thought she might appreciate an escort her own age. Business meetings and drinks are hardly the type of scene for a young woman to enjoy.”

Rupert nodded. “That will be fine. Speaking of, I would like to introduce you both to my daughter.” He turned and gestured to the young woman who was descending down the ramp after him. Her blonde curls were pinned back off her face, which was freckled and held bright brown eyes. She smiled politely as she came to stand beside her father.

“Lescelli, this is Commander Farren Warinford and his son, Tobin Warinford.”

“Pleasure,” the woman replied. Her tone was terse and her smile forced, and Tobin knew instantly she was just as reluctant to be here as he was. That was going to make this trip all the more enjoyable.

He sighed internally but forced himself to extend a hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, Lady Lescelli.”