Night had fallen in the Stone Circle, but the city was still alive well into the night. Glowing stones enmeshed in the baskets made them look like giant jellyfish bobbing in the air, the smaller longhouses around the one atop the hill opening their houses eagerly for the thousands of Faulk all too willing to spend their gains and boast about what they’d witnessed within Norn’s Hall.

“What now?” Rael watched the stream of Faulk go in separate directions. Some headed to the open longhouses, others further downhill towards the sound of beating metal and chopping wood, and quite a few headed up the bridges back to their ships.

“Tofa’s gambling den is pretty good.” Kip rubbed his peach fuzz. “Or so my first mate’s been telling me. I wanna try Asa’s pleasure house, ‘n yer welcome t’ join. There’s men and women from all over.” Kip wiggled his eyebrows.

“Do they want to be there?” Rael asked pointedly.

“What d’you—Oh, right.” Kip flushed in embarrassment. “No slaves in Stone Circle. One of them big rules here. Though I suggest ya avoid Erikar or his men. They…are the kind of Faulk that shame the rest of us.”

“The top of the Garden Omrad is fantastic for musical practice.” Ulric pointed to the floating basket stuffed with vegetation. “Though it’s a bit easy to get lost inside.”

“Derrol, what do you suggest?” Rael had heard enough singing. When they turned to find him, he was sitting at the exit of the hall, by a pair of guards. “Derrol?”

“Hm?” He blinked a few times. “Sorry Rael. I need to wait for someone. Kip, why don’t you get your first mate to show you and Rael around?” The captain plastered on a smile that hid old pain.

“Are you okay, Derrol?” Azmond asked, grabbing at the man’s hand.

Derrol tousled his hair, the child giggling under the assault. “I’ll be fine. Just have to check up on an old man.”

Kip found his first mate, Yana, easily enough. She had one arm around a man twenty years her junior and another carrying a horn longer than her arm brimming with alcohol. It took some convincing to pry her away from the gentleman of the night, but with the promise of another horn full of ale, she was ready to go.

Ulfric split off from them on one of the bridges, pulling out his bagpipes from his bag as he climbed towards the peak of the giant basket overflowing with greenery. Rael wasn’t as confident as they appeared, gripping onto the ropes attached to the bridge in a white-knuckled grip despite their placid expression, squeezing tighter as the ale-soggy Yana swung the bridge with every step. It didn’t help that Azmond was playing along, peals of laughter tickling their ears with every movement of the bridge.

“Ya scared?” Kip’s mischievous grin irked Rael.

“Of your first mate sending us falling to our deaths? Yes.” Rael said with a huff, sending a glare to Yana, who was drunkenly marching onwards without a care in the world.

“Wouldn’t’a thunk someone who rigs ships to be scared o’ heights.” Kip said pointedly.

“The ships are in good condition.” Rael asserted, trying not to flinch at the sound of the groaning screech each wooden plank made with every step. “I’m not so sure about these bridges.”

When they finally reached the other side, they were back on the docks. It was silent at dusk, the dissonance of ringing bells, beating drums, and loud chatter replaced by whispers of ropes whining at the moors, subtle flaps of loose canvas, and a creaking omnipresence that surrounded them.

“Why the docks?” Rael asked.

“’Cause the dock Omrad connects to ev’ry other part of Stone Circle.”

“And they got the cheapest whores!” Yana laughed uproariously, swinging her horn around and spilling a cup’s worth on Rael. “Oops, sorry.”

Azmond tugged Rael’s wet shirt.

“What’s a whore?”

Rael’s stare threatened to burn a hole through Yana’s head. Thankfully, she had the decency to look ashamed. Or she was just flushed from the alcohol. She kneeled, her unfocused eyes working together to stare into Azmond’s soul. Her hands rested firmly on his shoulders; she responded in the sincerest voice she could muster.

“A whore is someone I can pay to put things in my butt.”

Azmond face contorted in disgust.

“Ew.”

Yana nodded and stood up, her eyes going in different directions as a low rumble emitted from her throat.

“Excuse me.” Yana apologized as she side-stepped the group and leaned over the edge of the platform. Rael was about to ask what she was doing before she retched a few times.

“This is where most trade happens.” Kip explained, ignoring the pained noises his first mate was making. “Not the best stuff, but prob’ly the most interesting.”

“Also the most—Blaaaahgh…” Yana rose her head for a moment, interrupted by a sound that only a drowning crocodile could make. Her cheeks bulged and she retched.

“Cheap inns too, better ‘n sleeping in our ships.” Kip rubbed Yana’s back. She stood up again finger in the air to make a point.

“Don’t forget the—BLAUUGHAEEUGH.” The puke came all at once, erupting from her mouth in a sick spray. They watched the barf disappear into the darkness below. There was no noise for a few moments. Until they heard the sickening splat of Yana’s half-digested meal hitting the ground, and from the darkness came a sordid wail followed by a litany of curses.

The four of them looked at one another. The cursing was getting louder, a chorus of voices grumbling in anger heading towards the bridge.

“Maybe we should find one of those cheap inns.” Rael suggested.

They sprinted towards the inns, pulling a giggly Yana behind them. Thankfully, the four of them found a lonely tavern with some rooms available. When Rael fell on the cheap linen, Azmond jumping in after them, they couldn’t help but think to themselves how much the ratty sheets and doughy pillows reminded them of a home that rejected them.

Rael was almost pushed out of bed by Az the next morning. The boy was practically bouncing off the walls, all to excited about seeing more of Stone Circle. He dragged a bleary Rael out of their room, finding a similarly tired Kip pulled around by Yana. The enthusiastic first mate dropped her captain on a chair, his eyes blinking away the tiredness, and bounced over the Rael.

“Dragonward Rael!” Yana exclaimed as she thrust her arm onto Rael’s, her greeting shaking the sleep out of them. “An honor to meet you!” Rael opened their mouth to say they’d met before, but the woman’s smile only grew larger, her twinkling eyes framed by her crow’s feet. “Yes, yes, we’ve met. While I was very, very drunk.” Yana moved around constantly; her words accentuated by wild gesticulations. She clasped Rael’s shoulder and pulled them close. “Thanks for the mead, by the way. Century-old spirits, the secret to their distillation process lost with the fall of Sima.” She sighed. “What a tragedy.”

“From what I’ve heard of Sima, it seems their alcohol was the only thing they had going for them.” Rael noted. Yana paused, staring at the Dragonward.

“Too true!” Yana laughed uproariously, slapping Rael on the back.

“Mmrrpgh.” Kip groaned.

“As usual, your elegant words move me, Captain.” Yana sat by Kip, one of his bloodshot eyes glaring at her.

“You snore like ‘n overgrown toad.” Kip stretched and stood up, ignoring the rude gesture Yana sent his way. “The locals prob’ly have stalls set up.”

True to his word, stalls had been set up on every level of the Docks Omrad, the rich smells of cooking meat intermingling in the foggy air, overpowering the usual scent of sulfur and swamps. The four of them went from stall to stall, trying different foods for breakfast. Azmond homed in on the spiced meats cooking on sticks, hopping in place as the stall owners gladly passed their products to him.

On the first one, his sharp teeth tore right through the wood skewer, which didn’t seem to bother Azmond. Rael was too stunned to stop him from swallowing, and they managed to stop him from chomping off another bit of his skewer. Rael got their own skewer, showing Azmond how to tear meat off the skewer rather than eat it whole. When Azmond tried just the meat, his eyes lit up, realizing that the food was tastier than he thought. Once he’d finished, his trembling gray eyes shifted between Rael and the stall.

“We’ll try more, okay?” Rael pulled him in the direction of other stalls.

“Aye, there’s more than jus’ this food.” Kip said as he pointed to a busy stall. “There’s fruit wrapped sofkee, cornbread, all sortsa stuff.”

Kip’s recommendations were good ones; Rael tried fish-oil fried duck, buttered cornbread, and some odd sweets that hung on strings to dry. Azmond tried it all, but it was clear that he preferred the skewered meats to anything else. Rael was surprised, considering that at his age, Rael would have preferred the sweets to anything else. Rael nibbled on some cornbread as they watched Az inhale his sixth skewer. They wondered if the amount of food he ate was normal or if he was constantly eating out of some fear he would be without food again.

‘I’d be an awful Dragonward if he hurts himself eating too much.’ Rael bit their knuckle, anxieties swelling within them.

“Slow down, Azmond.” Rael said softly. “The food isn’t going anywhere.”

“Mmm?” Azmond pulled a clean skewer from his mouth.

“Rael’s right, little guy!” Yana took his skewer, holding the last bit of spiced meat away from the Child of Dragons. “You have to learn to savor. It’s not about filling your stomach, but letting your tongue get to know the food.”

Azmond cocked his head curiously.

“You met him on a slave ship, right?” Yana asked Rael. “Do you think he ever had the luxury of a slow meal before?”

“Ah, ease off on the kid.” Kip scoffed. “He’s a growin’ boy.”

“You’re one to talk.” Yana laughed as she poked him in the side. “You chugged down two mugs of the mead Rael got us and called it a night. That mead was something they typically only serve the High Jarl.”

Rael froze. ‘That’s what I bought with the sapphires? Wasn’t it a bit much? Then again, I have no idea what the bouquet of sapphires is worth.’ Noticing Rael’s expression, Yana explained.

“Even if you’ve got few merits to your name, you’re the third living Dragonward in Faulk history. And you gave up some fae-touched jewelry for spirits. The servants of the Norn who represents the shamans would be obligated to bring you the best they have.”

“Which is why I’ve been payin’ fer everthin’.” Kip added, snapping the skewer out of Yana’s hands and passing it to Az. “What ya’ offer in trade is too much. Fae-touched animals or tools are worth oodles. Fae-touched jewelry? Southern kings would give entire iron mines away for one.”

“They think it brings luck.” Yana shrugged, miming chewing slowly to Azmond.

Azmond largely ignored the conversation, leisurely eating the skewer. As they climbed stairs and bridges up the Omrad, they stopped at fewer and fewer stalls, stomachs filled with a variety of foods. It was when they reached the top to look over the Stone Circle that Rael finished eating a large bird leg—called a turkey, apparently—that they’d shared with Azmond. From so high, they could see everything in the city, the people like ants moving below. Rael and Azmond had never seen so many people in one place, let alone so many buildings so close together. The fog that obscured the sky hung thick just beyond the menhirs that surrounded the city, a white blanket enveloping dense woodland and creeping swamps.

Harsh winds blew the unnatural fog around the menhirs, the flowing clouds breaking like water against stone on a riverbed. The same winds rocked the giant Omrads gently, wooden frames groaning somewhat, briefly sending a jolt of fear through Rael as an image of the giant structure breaking free from the hill to fly free formed in their mind. As quickly as the image came, Rael pushed it down, unclenching their hands from the woven rail.

“Quite a sight, innit?” Kip took a deep breath. “Too bad ya can’t smell the swamp from here.”

“You like that smell?” Rael’s nose scrunched.

“He’s a chinampa farmer, born and bred!” Yana declared, tousling an irritated Kip’s hair.

“Jus’ because I can ‘preciate the smell of life in motion don’t make me a chinampa farmer!” Kip exclaimed.

“Do you know how he joined a crew?” Yana turned to the other two with a shrewd smile.

“By Arafell, no…” Kip groaned, Azmond and Rael looking at him curiously.

“Back when I was but a crewwoman, Captain Lelan stopped by some chinampa farms near Feldon to pick up some supplies. Not used to the floating islands, the Captain was pulled in the water, attacked by a crocodile! It was about to do some death rolls, tearing Lelan limb from limb…That’s when a young boy, scarcely fourteen winters, jumped in and wrestled with the beast, digging his thumbs into its eyes until it let go!” Yana said, keeping focused on her audience as Kip stiffened.

“Cool!” Azmond exclaimed, turning his attention to Kip and pulling his shirt. “Did you really wrestle with a croc? How big was it? Was the captain okay? Were you okay?”

“Aye…it wasn’t too big, barely six feet long. Capn’s leg was shredded, but ‘t least he was able to keep it.” Kip smiled nervously, keeping his eyes away from Rael or Azmond.

“Why do you not sound proud of it?” Rael asked. “Weren’t you the one who told me I needed to brag more?”

“Yeah, Captain Kip, why?” Yana’s grin was unaffected by the withering glare Kip sent her way.

“’Cuz…I fainted at the sight of the injury.” Kip said abashedly.

“And because the captain offered you a place on the ship after you pulled him out of the water.” His first mate clarified.

“He was still bleeding all over the ground.” Kip murmured, blush coloring his cheeks. “Let’s jus’ find Ulric. He knows where to find more than just food, drink, and whores.”

“Yay!” Azmond threw his hands up. “No butt stuff!”

Rael glared at Kip and Yana, the former having the decency to look ashamed and the latter looking away innocently. The two walked in silence ahead of Rael and Azmond, Rael’s eyes boring in the back of their heads with ill intent. After a few minutes of walking down stairs and across platforms, the group made it to one of the bridges connecting the Port and Garden Omrads. The late morning crowd made it difficult to move, the bridges clustered with people. Some moved aside when they saw Azmond, a few even bowing their heads as he passed. Az watched them with curiosity, smiling and waving at all who recognized him. His casual demeanor surprised some people, causing them to straighten and wave back timidly.

Rael was more cautious, examining any signs of ill intent, holding Azmond closer to their side as the crowd thickened around them. Aside from those who’d noticed Azmond, Rael could hear the grumblings of discontent, comments about bad bridges and annoying passageways. A few raised voices sparked here and there, aggressors separated by a mire of people and left to stew in their anger.

When they finally reached the bridge, twenty minutes after entering the crowd, Rael pushed Azmond between themselves and Kip. Everybody crossing the bridge in the other direction would find Rael glaring at them if they stopped for too long at Az. They would whisper names under their breath, the titles of Dragonsward and Demonslayer either cowed them into looking away or inspired them to meet Rael’s stare head-on. An old part of Rael wanted to shirk under their gazes, to hide and become unseen. But everything they’d learned about the Faulk told Rael to stand tall and meet these expectant gawkers with their chin held high.

The group crossed the bridge onto a large veranda and made their way up the wooden walkway swirling around the outside of the Garden Omrad. Ruen’s instincts warned Rael that they were being followed by over a dozen people. They hid behind one another, pretending to look over the walkways or at the flowers along the path. But every now and then, they would focus on Azmond, their eyes lighting up with an intense reverence.

“Kip.”

“Yeah, the lil’ one has a few…fans.” Kip didn’t even turn his head backwards. “You didn’t notice it at Feldon ‘cuz we got used to him while you were…”

“A freaking skeleton.” Yana continued, jumping out of the way from Kip’s elbow.

“You’re exaggerating.” Rael rolled their eyes. The three of them shared a somber expression.

“Not really.” Kip said after a long pause. “You were in pretty bad shape. A lotta us thought y’were gonna die.”

Azmond nodded numbly, embracing Rael’s leg in a hug and digging his head into the side of their waist. Rael grimaced. They hated seeing Az like this. They peeled off the child from their thigh and brought him up on piggyback, almost buckling under his weight. He was heavier than he looked, heavier than Tipple, who was half a head taller than Az when Rael last carried him. The walk was uneasy, with their followers watching from far away. Azmond would run his hands through the vegetation that reached out from the Omrad and they would marvel over all that he’d touched. When he picked out bits and pieces of flowers and leaves, the fans would pull a sprig as well, holding it close to themselves. Eventually, the followers were satisfied, scurrying off with perceived relics or walking away, content at having witnessed Azmond. The group reached near the top of the Omrad when the soft sounds of a flute emanated from a tunnel that led inside. Kip listened to the tune for a while, swaying to the melody. He nodded and went in, beckoning the others to follow.