“Sit still.” Hetis said.

“Do we really have to do this?” I complained.

“Yes.”

My name is Gedric. I'm fourteen years old, my eyes brown, my hair is a dirty blonde, and my brother is an idiot.

An idiot who doesn’t know how to cut hair.

“I figured you would be all over this, Gedric. We’re making you a disguise right now.”

“But it’s not an interesting one. It’s just: my face, your haircut.”

“It’ll work, won’t it?”

I grumbled.

It had been his idea, shortly after we decided to sneak me onto the boat. We thought about doing it back at the house, but decided that we didn’t have time. We didn’t have rope around, so we had to find some down by the docks. We also did some scouting before night fell, and, in the end, Hetis had made it back to the house just before nightfall to grab the pack of our belongings.

In hindsight, we could’ve done the haircut and made it to the ship with plenty of time to spare. But we didn’t. Not much to do about it now. Well, except cut my hair.

It was a good backup, I had to admit; we just had to make sure that we were never caught in the same room. We also would have to stay far, far away from the truth-smelling Katherine as possible, and pray that no one else had magic powers that involved seeing through walls, or magic hearing, or anything similarly good at catching twin brothers pretending to be a single person.

Still, the haircut was just that: a backup. The primary plan was for me to spend the vast majority of the trip in the cabin. Well, that was Hetis’s plan, at least. My plan was to go explore.

We’re on the largest, most expensive vessel I’ve ever been on. Likely one of the most expensive vessels ever built. You were crazy if you thought I wasn’t going to go sightseeing, at least a little bit.

I’d waited until we were out at sea, at least. That way, they couldn’t just kick me off back in Byras before we got to go out on our adventure. Worst case, they dump us in some random port town the next time we land. That had basically been our plan, anyway - move from Byras to somewhere else. It’d be like we were given a free ride to the next town over. That said, if I made it all the way to wherever the military training was happening without being discovered, I planned to beg to be taken so I could join my brother. The ‘get dumped in random town and just move there’ strategy was the backup’s backup.

After the haircut.

Hetis clipped off another lock of my hair, narrowly missing my ear.

“Careful!” I said.

My brother tossed the lock out the window.

“Sorry.” Hetis said, trying not to laugh. “Maybe we should just keep it like this.”

I glanced at the full-length mirror embedded in the wall.

“No.”

My hair, which used to hang in glorious locks, was now cut close on only the right side.

“I don’t know, it suits you.”

“No.”

Hetis continued the haircut.

Despite how much we bicker, I appreciate him a lot. It was my plan to get onto the boat, but it was him who had to do most of the heavy lifting to execute it. I was honestly surprised by how smoothly it had gone once we were on the boat. I was a bit worried that the trail of drips leading back to the cabin would’ve given us away, but nothing happened. It had helped that a long-term hiding spot had been in close reach.

The cabin was more than large enough for the both of us, and more importantly, had an expansive closet with two doors split by hinges and plenty of space for me to hide in. If we hadn't had a spot for me to hide in the room, the plan had been for me to go find some place in the hold to... ‘hold up’ in. It didn’t seem like we would have to resort to that.

There was a knock at the door.

I caught my brother’s gaze before quietly moving to the closet.

“Just a minute!” Hetis said.

A male voice responded from the other side.

“Sure.”

I closed the closet behind me, pushing on the side of the door to roll the thing shut. There was a small gap where the door split that I could see the rest of the cabin, if not all of it.

I heard my brother open the cabin door.

“Hi.” He said.

The person was still standing outside the door, so I couldn’t see them from my crack.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” The voice said.

“No.” Hetis replied. “I’m Hetis. You were the other guard on the ship when we visited the Ambassador yesterday, right?”

That guy? He seemed like he was alright. Less of an ass than Katherine, at least. That wasn’t saying much.

“I was. Sorry about the situation with your brother.”

“It’s alright. He got over it.”

I guess I did, if ‘it’ was the railing of the boat. If I was being honest, I didn’t particularly care about joining the military. Hetis seemed more interested in the whole thing than I was. It did seem more interesting than spending another year in Byras, but that was only because the white city had long lost its charms. It was well enough time to move on.

What I did care about is people telling me what I could and couldn’t do. Spite is a powerful motivator.

“That’s good to hear.” He said. “Luis Acier. You can call me Luis.”

My brother offered the man a seat at the desk next to the mirror in the cabin, before walking over to the bed himself. Both spots were across from the closet, though I had to look through different cracks to see each person.

Guard No. 2, who I now knew was named Luis, was in the same armor I had seen him wearing yesterday. It was strange how comfortable he seemed to be in it. Actually, now that I thought of it, Katherine was the same way. It was like both of them wore it as a second skin, their movement so natural they might as well have been wearing nothing. Well, if while naked they were a hundred pounds heavier and much harder to stab.

“How are you related to Katherine, anyways?”

“Same Bloodline.” Luis replied. “She is part of the main branch. I am not. We are like... how do you say... cousins?”

“That’s less complicated than I thought.”

“It is much more complicated than that, let me assure you. Technically she is my second aunt, also.”

“Uh, oh. Nevermind.”

Ah, yes. The Bloodlines of the Empire. Known for their strength in Hemomancy, and arranged borderline-inscestual marriages. I’d nearly forgotten. The Emperor had long ago outlawed the more overt attempts by ambitious Bloodlines to... well, to keep the power in the family, so to speak. It led to many more birth defects than success stories. Still, to say that there was no inbreeding would be foolish.

“But I am not here to speak of my Blood.” Luis said. “I have been instructed to give you a briefing on the upcoming journey.”

There was silence for a beat, before Luis continued.

“We will be sailing south, to eventually make our way to Jur. The current plan is to stop at a few cities on the way to pick up more like yourself.”

“What do you mean, like ‘me’?” Hetis asked.

“Orphans of the Savage War, those with the Blood. Those from Jirou’s Domain.”

“Why?”

Luis sighed, exasperated.

“Politics.” He said, not explaining further. “You will be given etiquette lessons on the way, for three hours each day.”

Hetis groaned. I held back a cackle from my spot in the closet. Luis continued, though I could see a smile touching his lips.

“You will be joined by others after we stop in Selio, worry not. It will not be so bad after that.”

“I guess.” Hetis whined. “This seems like a lot just for military recruitment.”

“It is.” Luis nodded. “But this trip to Jur is not about you, nor any of the others we will bring with us. We will have to parade you around a bit, but if you put up with this, you will get world-class training in the field that brought the Empire to where it is today.”

“Okay.”

“Your first lesson will be after lunch.” Luis said, standing. “Katherine will find you.”

He closed the door behind him. I waited a minute or two, and then opened the closet.

“HA!” I said.

“Shut up.” my brother said. He grabbed the scissors and returned to cutting my hair once I sat near the end of the bed once more.

“You know, I’m almost glad I looked at that owl, now. Much better than Etiquette lessons.”

“Big words for someone who’s going to be sleeping in a closet for the next week.”

“You got me there.” I admitted.

The closet wasn’t the most comfortable place. Hetis had managed to swipe an extra blanket and pillow from the empty room next door, but it was still a wooden floor. It reminded me of old days in the orphanage, much to my chagrin. Less cramped, maybe.

The rest of the haircut went about as expected. I thanked the sea for being calm today - trying to do this during choppy weather would’ve led to a lost eye.

“That should do it.” Hetis remarked, admiring his work.

“Yup.” I said. “Now I look like a dweeb. It’s perfect.”

Hetis huffed as he put the scissors back in the pack.

“You’d look like a dweeb in any haircut, don’t worry.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Idiot.”

“Poophead.”

“Lunch is soon. I’m going to head up, I think.” He said.

“Sounds good.” I replied. “Wait, you’re not going to have time to bring me food, will you? With lessons, and stuff.”

Hetis shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’ll try to keep something in my pocket, if I can. I probably won’t be back until the lessons are over, at least. Sorry.”

I frowned. Sounds like I’d be skipping lunch for the next few days. Unfortunate.

“I’ll live.” I said.

“I’ll see you in a bit, then.” He said, picking up a stray hair and tossing it out the window.

“Yup. Good luck. Don’t turn into a pompous dickhead, please.”

“No promises.”

I stood out of vision range of the door’s entrance as he exited the cabin, and heard him take the stairs up to the deck.

Time to be bored.

Byras was gone from the window, at this point. We were well and truly on our way. I found myself smiling as I looked out at the sea. I was happy, I realized, to be out of the city. It was home, but had progressively become less so in the years since our parents were Vanished. The bed I had slept on there was just a place to sleep, a house full of now-tainted memories. We both were long-overdue for an adventure, I thought. One grander than stealing tarts in a smelly trench coat.

My stomach rumbled.

I could use a trench coat tart now, though. I moved to the door and peeked out.

Coast clear.

We had noticed last night that there didn’t tend to be many guards on this level, if any at all. There was more than one staircase to this level, too, so even foot traffic past our door was seldom. It was almost like they weren’t expecting a stowaway to hide with one of the guests.

Weird how that works.

As far as I could tell, we were the only people bunked on this floor at all, too. It seemed like the luxury vessel was designed for large, at-sea parties, but only staffed the Ambassador, his guards, and the crew at the moment.

It wasn’t like I was seeking company, however. Not unless that company was lunch, so the lack of people suited my designs. I tiptoed away from the stairs that led up to the deck. I had no plan, and not a single inkling of where the kitchen might be, so I looked for a way down. The orlop - a fancy word for the bit near the bottom of a ship where the important shit is usually stored - was in that direction, and, therefore, so was my lunch.

The ceilings were higher than I was used to. Maybe it was just this floor, but I didn’t feel like I would bump my head if the sea lurched, the way I usually did when walking around below deck. It would explain why I remembered only seeing two sets of windows from outside. A boat this big with normal-sized floors would likely have four, or even five.

About halfway down the hallway, I found a set of stairs that led in the direction I wanted, set perpendicular to the direction of the boat. The right side of the stairs were against where the main mast connected with the bottom of the ship, the left blocked by an ornate, gilded railing with widely spaced bars.

I almost sauntered down before I realized there were voices below. Many voices, coming from the side behind the mast.

Right, it’s lunchtime. I bet some of the crew is down there.

Rather than jump down the staircase and scream ‘Hi, I’m not supposed to be here!’, I pressed myself to the floor and stuck my head between two of the railing’s bars. Then, I lowered my head, so that only my eyes stuck out over the edge of where the floor ended.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, the shorter hair helped here. With my old cut, my glorious locks would’ve hung down like a curtain over the edge of the staircase. Not exactly the normal benefit of hair, but anything that made me less likely to be thrown overboard deserved credit when it was due.

The second floor down, which I was now certain held the crew’s quarters, Didn’t have nearly as many people in-view as I had expected. In fact, most of this side of the floor looked like storage. Shelves were racked with foodstuffs at various heights, though I had a good view over the majority of them. The only people I saw were a pair of sentries playing cards on a small table towards the end of the boat, near the mizzenmast.

I could also see multiple doors from my current vantage point. They didn’t look like guest rooms - I doubted they would make their guests wade through storage - so I assumed they were various rooms for either the crew or the Captain. One of the doors in my view was in the direction of the majority of the voices, tag-teaming with a wall to cut off sight of the front end of the ship.

There was also another staircase, close but not directly next to the one I was looking down from. Not close enough for some kind of sneaky drop maneuver to get myself down there.

Not satisfied with ‘traipsing down the stairs’ as the best avenue for the heist, I decided to look around more on my current floor.

I found empty guest rooms. So many of them. The only other thing I’d found on this floor was an understated door in the center of the boat that led to a cramped area with a ladder that went from the deck to the floor below. My best guess was that it was how the crew kept getting to the quarters without passing our room.

Giving up, I returned to Hetis’s room to lament my poor luck on the layout of the ship. It’d be way too lame to get caught just for trying to get some food that I’d live without. I sat on the bed and propped an elbow on the windowsill.

If I was doomed to be found, I hoped it would be in a much more majestic way. Like by beating up the entire crew singlehandedly for a steak, or by being caught at the last moment before we left the ship and making a daring escape. Walking down the stairs and having a guard say “Hey, who are you?” wasn’t just stupid, it was stupid and boring.

I wouldn’t be caught, of course. My heists always worked.

I watched a gull dive for a fish.

“Yeah, something like that.” I mumbled. I needed wings to get lunch.

I watched a roll dive for a fish.

Wait, a roll? Like, the ever-famous wheat-based food?

I leaned out of the window. Below was another.

Right, the crew’s quarters were below me. Someone probably just threw one and missed.

Oh. Oh.

I have an idea.

There was much more rope than I needed. We had used it to get me from the sea to this floor, so even after tying it around myself, I had plenty to spare.

The other end went around the bedposts. I wasn’t worried about it shifting. This was a ship, after all. The bed was attached to the floor. What I was worried about was slipping on the way down and falling. This rope was my safety net to avoid falling into the water and having the ship leave me behind.

That said, I trusted my ability to climb. To a certain extent, ships were where I grew up, just as much as Byras was. When Hetis and I were younger, we were brought on voyages with some amount of frequency by our parents. Dad considered it part of growing up to know how to tie knots and climb ropes. Even after they’d been lost on his final voyage, I’d kept up the practice by ascending buildings at sundown to watch and hear the Dusk Bells.

The Bells, or the Dusk Bells, or the Ancestor Bells, or whatever you wanted to call them, was a tradition of Jirou’s Domain, specifically the eastern coast. We didn’t have graves, really. Not the way those further inland did. We did bury our dead, but those lost to shipwrecks or the other hazards of seafaring had another way. Most believe the soul of a sailor would end up back in the ocean, even if you buried them, so markers for anything more than denoting places not to dig were frowned upon.

Instead, most hung bells from the masts of their ship to remember them. If you didn’t have a ship, hanging them from the end of a pier or the edge of a roof overlooking the ocean was common. It wasn’t a unique thing, either. A single lost soul could have many bells, all hung from different ships or piers. Dad had a dozen or so that I knew of. Mom had less, but she wasn’t a sailor.

The Bells were a call for protection from them. Sort of. Some said the Bells would collect the soul, pull it from the abyss. Others just liked the noise they made. I was mostly in the latter group. The pretty bells made pretty bell noises, and gave us an excuse to think of the happy times with the lost. It didn’t need to be more than that, in my opinion.

I looked around the empty room once more, triple checking the knots on the rope. This wasn’t our cabin. I’d gone to the one on the far end, close to where I estimated the stairs to the orlop would be. The goal was to rappel to the window a floor down, look through to check for anyone inside, and if there wasn’t, enter.

With any luck, I’d be able to exit that room quietly, sneak down the stairs, and find a snack. Without any luck, I would just have a brilliant story of that one time I climbed down the side of a moving ship.

Win-win.

The window was a tight squeeze, but doable. I looked around for places to grab before I got more than my chest out. The ship, being the gaudy fuck it was, had handholds everywhere. I was going to be climbing what was effectively a carved wooden tapestry. It smoothed out lower down, but the tapestry continued a few feet below the lower window, from what I could see.

I muttered a quick prayer that no-one would decide to get seasick while I was climbing and vomit from the deck, before pulling myself fully out of the window.

It took a moment for me to steady myself, feet still on the edge of the window frame. My right hand gripped what looked like the sword of a great warrior, my left shoved up the great warrior’s nose. Glancing down, it looked like the next window was about eight to ten feet below me. It was doable.

My first step was shaky - onto what looked like the nose of a deer just below the ledge of my entrypoint.

The boat leaned lazily.

My heart lurched as I stiffened my grip as the ship rolled at what felt like a forty-five degree angle, distributing my weight between each limb so as not to put too much strain in one place. I held.

The boat leaned back the other direction. I stayed still to wait for another oscillation before continuing.

The movement wasn’t so bad, once I got used to it. The first roll had mostly been a shock, rather than an actual risk of falling. Still, there was no way I was going to be moving when it rolled me to that position again. Too scary.

I moved down in sprints, waiting between each roll, and eventually made it to the wall to the right of the window.

I waited until the next beat in the boat’s dance, and popped my eye in front of the opening.

Two eyes stared back.