Whistler stood on the deck of his ship naked. Clouds warmed by the first rays of the sun streaked over the top of The Silent Secret as the craft soared through the air, diligent and excited to complete yet another job after weeks of being away from land.

A click of the door to his quarters shook him from his thoughts, as he turned to see a mousy woman, her long brunette locks violently scattered, peeking out. “Captain Whistler, requesting a big, strong man to take the helm!” She giggled.

With a shake of his head, the young captain left his spot and returned to his leisure. 

Captain Whistler Thane was one people would call a young and up-and-coming profiteer. At the age of 24, he had spent many years in the wide blue sky, moving and shaking the world around him. He kept his sunny auburn hair short while his hazel eyes were still full of excitement. He had a smaller frame, only standing around five foot nine, a bit shorter than his lowland landsmen kin.

“Cap’n, we’re approaching Sommerset.” A thick voice rang over the brasscomms, a series of brass pipes used to carry word around the ship. It had the unfortunate side effect of making even the most hearty of voice sound tinny, but it was just as effective despite its low cost. 

With a few more thrusts, Whistler stopped a second to shout at the man on the other side, “Very good! Give me! A few minutes! I’ll be right up!” 

The woman looked shy and bookish with her clothes on, but she was ravenous in the sack. Unafraid to make any noise, she squirmed with excitement beneath the sheets, her face pressed against a pillow. Turning ever so slightly over her shoulder, she frowned, “Does that mean our time’s almost up… Captain?” She played up her disappointment, solemnly placing a finger to her lips.

“Well, I did say for him to give me a few minutes,” Grabbing a handful of hair and pulling her close, she squealed in delight, “And I intend to use every last one of ‘em…”

 As The Silent Secret slowly pulled to port, Agatha stood on the brow of the ship, flags communicating with the port hand. Mr. Thimns slowed down the ship, following the bay’s rules for approach. Speaking over brasscomms, the two managed to dock the ship along the many ports allowing entry and exit to the island of Sommerset. 

Ships of various shapes, sizes and functions moved in and out of the space around the island suspended in the air. Dinghies, carriers, freights and various other airships kept their movement along the x-axis of the island’s port. Any delinquents outside of a very specific function would be answering to the authorities who patrolled the airspace diligently. Given this was an island belonging to Monarch Louis XXI, a member of the Crownsword would easily quell any criminal activity.

“Cap’n, we have arrived at Louisdale. Please report to the deck with the appropriate paperwork.” The voice barely edged out over the girl’s shouts of pleasure.

Whistler grabbed the girl’s hips, relishing in the extra meat on her bones and pushed himself further in, “Looks like we need to wrap this up, love!” 

The girl had no choice but to grab the edge of the bed, her face full of mattress. With a few more thrusts, the scholar tightened up, bringing him over the edge.

 

“Statement of Bearing please, sir.” The teenage lowlandsman stood on the docks, adorned in an official royal civil worker’s outfit. Every detail was in place, without flaw.

Slipping a singular button through the hole on his loose white shirt, Whistler barely looked at the man, “Statement of what, now?”

“A Statement of Bearing, sir.” He began to raise his voice once he saw the man before him continued to pay him no mind, “All ships entering a Melianais Kingdom’s dock or land border bearing more than 300 pounds of goods with the intention to sell must provide a completed Statement of Bearing, Will of Intent, Large Goods Trading License, Aerial Craft Handling License and Tariff Report with the appropriate funds at hand if you wish to drop anchor and unload your shipments here, sir.” 

The young captain finished cleaning out his ear, blowing it away with a puff of air. “A Statement of what, now?”

“There he is, you filthy bastard!” Dressed in the same garb as the porter before him, a large giant stepped out and grasped Whistler’s hand, completely eclipsing it, “Haven’t seen ya around these parts in almost two years!” His skin was covered in calcification, typical of a landsman from the mountains.

Whistler firmly grasped back, as much as he could, with a sinister grin, “Oh Stonehand, you cheeky old fart, been trying to stay away from these shores! Too many husbands upset about the newest addition to their homes, if ya know what I’m sayin’!”

The goliath laughed raucously, “I wouldn’t put it past ya, Whistler!” 

“S-sir, I was just informing Captain Thane here that he needed a-”

The old man placed a hand up. With a cough to interrupt his inferior, the giant stood upright, towering over both young lowlandsmen, “Ricky, it’s alright. Go back to the office and start warming up my coffee. I’ll address Captain Thane and his appropriate paperwork.”

“But I-”

“Ricky, you are dismissed.” 

The young man opened his mouth to say more, stopped before saying anything more. He turned back to the mainland and took a few steps before peeking over his shoulder. His eyes widened as he saw the ship captain produce a bag of gold and handed it over to the older official.

“I should have my own porters coming soon,” Captain Whistler fumbled with a flint to light the cigarette he loosely carried between his lips, “Gimme around 3 hours and the ship will be ready for inspections.”

Tilting his head, the quartermaster tentatively weighed the bag of loose coins in his hand. “Not a problem, I’ll be sure to let those that need to on your ship.”

“Very good, I appreciate doin’ business with ya’, Stoney!” Whistler continued to make his way down port, “Let’s catch a drink later, alright?”

 

With the delivery made and the right hands shaken in only an hour's time, the young captain came down from the city built alongside the mountain and boarded his ship once more. Catching  Mr. Thimns finishing the battening down, he stood tall. “Looks like we’re getting our bonus, Thimns!”

The highlandsman, much similar to the dock head, stood head and shoulder over any lowlander. No one knew Mr. Thimns’ first name, as the older navigation expert never gave it out. Dressed in modest finery, his combed back gray hair and well trimmed beard complete with his trademark spectacles never gave the appearance he was a pirate but rather some statesman out on an errand while down from the mountains.

“Welcome back, captain. Glad to hear it.” His low, gravelly voice contrasted with his gentle tone.

“With your cut, I owe ya around 20 grand. Does that sound right?” Whistler had already worked the math out in his head on the way back. A good man deserves a good pay.

“If that will not put you out captain, I will gladly take it.” 

Rubbing the few chin hairs he had, the most he could grow during the past two week trip, he grinned, “Not in the slightest, Thimns! Where’s Agatha?”

“Check the kitchen.” The giant pointed towards the front of the ship, where a small enclosure secured the staircase which led downwards into the holds. 

“Right. That makes sense.” Whistler brushed his bangs back up to his typical coif, “Go ahead and take your break, Thimns. See you in two week’s time.”

Having crossed the deck, hand on the doorknob, the familiar click to his chambers opposite to him across the ship caught his ear. Eyes going wide, he quickly slinked into the stairwell, cracking the door just a bit.

“Sir,” The young woman asked Mr. Thimns, coiling the ropes on the deck, “Have you seen Captain Whistler? I was hoping to say goodbye…”

Dressed back in her unflattering collegiate blue scholar’s robes, the woman had cleaned up her hair and put back on her glasses that appeared too large for her round face. It was the first time Whistler saw her clothed in weeks.

“I believe the captain’s still away, ma’am.” The giant of a man tried his best to focus on the ropes, “He did tell me to inform you that you were a kind, gentle soul he’d love to convene with again soon.”

Whistler gagged. He felt bad for making the old man lie, “Just tell her to buzz off next time…” He whispered under his breath.

“Oh, I see…” The mousey woman looked to her side, “Well, please tell him to ask for me at the Academy then. And give him my biggest thanks for the ride!”

Mr. Thimns could only nod as the girl dragged her suitcase behind her onto the gangway. 

The young captain never understood why they wanted to stick around when they mutually agreed they could travel with him to his next destination in exchange for warming his bed. With a sigh and a shake of his head, he continued down to the kitchen.

 

“Finish your breakfast!” A loud smack echoed through the hard wood room as the crooked old woman slapped her captain’s hands with the wooden spoon she always seemed to have on her person. “You were too busy canoodling around with that girl and never ate!”

No one knew what Agatha was, aside from being old and crotchety. Standing no taller than three and a half feet, the woman seemed ancient with her tiny withered hands and thick mane of gray hair. She only wore simple all black robes that bunched up on the floor around her and was often found atop a stool below the deck before the gas stove stirring a pot of something or another. 

But she was easily one of the best cooks in all of the skies. 

Never did she waste an ingredient and every meal was somehow more divine than the last. No dish seemed to be a challenge and no cuisine was entirely foreign to her. Between her mastery of the culinary arts and her constant care of Whistler since he took the helm as captain, he had no choice but to do everything he could to keep her on his skeleton crew.

“Calm down, woman! Let me tell you how much you’re getting first!” He held back the spoon she was attempting to ram down his throat. 

The tiny woman was as strong as she was knowledgeable in the cooking arts, “You need to eat first and then I’ll listen to whatever you have to say!” 

Having finished a plate of Krea eggs and a full rasher of bacon, Whistler centered himself, “I’m giving you 20 grand for the job we just finished.”

“I’ll take 10.” 

“Damnit, you stubborn old hag! You always do this!” For some reason, Agatha always turned down the money they made on the ship together. It was hell getting her to sign off on her 20% split while the remaining sixty was split between the ship and the captain. And despite his best efforts, she usually spent her share on ingredients for their next haul. “I’m going to get you nicer pots and pans if you keep this up!”

With a gasp, the old woman quickly darted to her cabinet filled with cookware most assumed was older than her, “You wouldn’t dare!” 

A cheeky grin crawled across Whistler's face, “Who’s going to stop me, you ol’ bag? I’ll do it while you’re out shopping!”

“Please, like you’ll ever remember to do so once you find a girl!” 

The captain stopped, “Fair point.”

Giving her her leave and settling on a 15,000 coin pay out, Whistler wiped down his plate before stepping back up on deck. With the ship scheduled for maintenance, the cargo dropped off and the crew paid out, there was not much of a reason to stay aboard The Silent Secret. 

He was not sure what the two did while they were on their leave, but that was none of his business. Thimns and Agatha did not seem romantically inclined, more akin to two neighbors sharing the responsibility of a stray cat that adopted them more than the other way around. Each refused to bring up a bit of their past, typical for pirates even if their age was a bit outside of the usual, so aside from the past eight or so years, both of the other members of his crew were a mystery. 

“Well,” Whistler concluded, finally free of his obligations, “Might as well see what’s changed around town.”

 

Golden yellow brick walls of Louisdale hid the hustle and bustle of the powerful city within. On the lower layers, dockmen quickly shuffled about goods and wares that arrived from the ships as merchants shouted over each other in the din before the sunrise. A few striations above, those who worked away from the main business island, either maintaining the needs of the population within or various administrative duties for the greater kingdom began to stir in their beds. It would be another few hours until those residing toward the peak of the mountain would plant their feet upon solid ground, save those that served those scholars who ran the various colleges of the Sommerset Academy. 

The first day on land was always a special one to Whistler. Partaking in the local delicacies always came first after days, or even weeks, with only one or two bedfellows. 

Women have, and always would be, Captain Whistler’s vice. Their company always reminded him as to why he set sail into the great blue in the first place. Even if they had led to trouble more times than he could count, he could never give up the magic they held. 

“Mmmm…” A blonde highlander woman  groaned beside him, shifting positions on the fancy feather bed she claimed her mother had invented. 

The creator of said bed responded with a sniffle of her own, slightly disturbed from her needed sleep as the pirate silently slid his way out from between them. 

He silently swore at his sore pelvis, pained yet grateful that this endeavor left him better off than the last time he bed such large women. A master of a craft treated every opportunity to improve their skill and technique, and this would, no doubt, allow him to further refine himself. 

Limping over to the balcony, the thin man opened and slid between the double doors, stepping out into the already warming day, “Skies above, I hate the tropics.” He grumbled, finding a comfortable spot over the wrought iron railings, giving the perfect vantage point over the lower stratums of the city and the docks below. 

He pointed out The Silent Secret, something he could do with even twice the distance and triple the number of ships in the way, “She still isn’t getting her work done?” Whistler sparked a cigarette in frustration, something he made sure to grab before stepping out,  “I might just have to slide Stonehand another ‘donation’ just to see it done.”

After arriving midday the day before and dropping off the illicit shipment brought along with him, the night was for celebrating yet another job well done. Stonehand managed to sneak away from his duties and caught up with the young captain. A few more of his kin gathered around, giving the captain a chance to meet his bedfellows for the evening.

Nothing beat a fresh smoke after a night’s worth of work. The daughter proved to be a bit more inexperienced than he liked, but her mother made up for it in spades. As the warm wisps blew back in the captain’s face slightly, he groaned as a thought forced it’s way to the front of his mind, “Shit. I forgot I needed to drop by the Academy.” He had forgotten the letter aboard his ship, but thankfully had a mind like a steel trap.

 

“I think his name was Phlegm, or something?” Whistler stood before one of the great stone buildings visible from the bottom of the mountain.

One of the guards looked at the other, not restrained in hiding his quizzical look. “We do not have anyone by that name here,” he answered after being answered with a shrug, “Perhaps if you had a sealed letter or somesort, it would be a greater aid in ascertaining-”

“Look,” Whistler put out his last cigarette by stepping on it, crushing it against the well-weathered stone, “All I know is that I got a letter from some scholar claiming to be my relative. Mentioned something about needing my help with a job transporting something.”

The other guard stepped up, his face hard, “I am sorry, sir, but hearsay alone is not enough to let you in on school grounds.”

Just as he considered rushing past them, a voice perked up over the general din of the crowds, “Is that you, Captain Whistler?”