Airadia was a plane, the center of its star system, it had been for ages. Then why did the horizon on the ocean behave as if it was a curved world? Ewan drifted in his thoughts as his calculations about the ship’s speed errored. A mystical blur now obscured the enamoring vista. But it was not the time to mull over the mystery, he had to prepare for the ship. Be it hostile or friendly, he couldn’t miss it if he wanted to stand on soil again.

His presumed distance to the horizon didn’t work, so Ewan took an average ship’s size as written in his textbooks and calculated again. The inflation rate of that speck in the sunrise gave him a vague answer—it would arrive in an hour. It was enough for his preparations. He gathered his Astylinds back in the runes, changed back into his tattered clothes, dove into the water, and pushed the ice block down into the ocean with his spirit interference. It thawed and melted inside the water as Ewan shot up a couple of fireballs in the air. It could not only give the ship his position but also identify him as an Asheva.

He did everything he could do, it now depended on the ship, he could only wait.

The dot in the sun ballooned as minutes rolled. Half an hour later, the image cleared up and the ship appeared in all its glory as Ewan hurled another fireball to the sky. Aged ebony wooden frame with a naked maiden figurehead, towering masts, ropes running around, unfurled sails; the ship raced on the ocean, leaving a trail of frothy water in its wake—they were coming towards Ewan.

…….

“Howdy, mister stranded Asheva, care for ah lift?” a middle-aged man with patchy stubbles asked in common tongue but with an accent, leaning out of the ship’s railing.

“Yes please,” Ewan said, the disturbed waves rocking him back. “I’ll be…grateful.” He coughed out the water. The ship was bigger than the average size mentioned in the books. Its shadow threw him in the darkness when it sailed closer, the wooden frame creaking and singing with the ocean.  

“Would rather get your coins,” the middle-aged man said. “Novas, not Crelith.”

“How much?” Ewan asked. It was a rip-off, but if some Novas coins could solve his plight, he would be glad to part with them.

“Forty if ya pay coins, the same in grams if ya do crystals,” he said.

“Too much, make it ten, I’ll pay with coins.”

“Not in a position to bargain, are ya? Pay me thirty and I’ll let ya up, food and room included.”

“Fine, but I’ll only pay half now.”

“Sure mate.” The middle-aged man grinned and signaled the other workers with a whistle. They scampered around, the deck groaning under their steps. Soon a rope ladder dropped down the port side, its rungs moldy and rotten. Ewan latched on and climbed, supporting most of his weight on Ryvia, and jumped onto the deck from the last step.

“Are you the captain?” he asked, rubbing his hands clean and shaking his hair dry.

“It’s me, name’s Cork. Welcome to ma humble ‘Maiden’s Wish’,” the middle-aged man said with a smile, reaching out.

Ewan shook his hand. “Thank you for your help. I’m Ewan,” he said, creating a puddle where he stood, the drenched clothes weighing him down. The captain was also an Asheva but not stronger than him. The Anima fluctuations and the spirit disturbance around him put him at the fifth awakening or its equivalent— his <Identify> confirmed it.

Pockmarked-face, tangled greasy hair hanging over his ears, yellowed teeth accompanying the stinky breath, over-washed coat that was losing its navy-blue color, and a pair of airy trousers drooping beyond his bare and dirty feet. Cork had lived long enough to be at Step-1, yet he wasn’t. Either he remained stuck at the final point—where most stumbled—or his Astylinds had died if he was a Severynth, Ewan surmised. The difference in strength was big enough that his mischievous side boiled, he wanted to try his new spell <Enthrall> on him and duck the payment.

If he succeeded, all would be good. But if he didn’t, the consequences could be heavy. Best case scenario, he would pay more and pacify the situation. Worst case scenario, he would have to kill everyone, getting stuck on the ship instead of the ice block, and he couldn’t navigate. Unwanted and needless risks in unknown situations was a recipe for disaster, but it could give him some important data on his spell and could save him Novas. It would also leave him with something good to write in his ‘adventure diary’….

Eventually, his rationality overpowered his impish side and kept him in check. Unfamiliar territory, uncharted relations, someone more powerful than him could be behind this ship—a subtle book cover often hid an explosive story. After all, they sailed the treacherous waters and the ship remained intact, just a captain at the fifth awakening couldn’t explain that. Ewan smothered the idea of the spell and paid the man fifteen Novas coins.

“Here’s half, I’ll pay the rest when we go ashore,” he said.

“How’d ya end up here anyway?” The captain opened the pouch and checked the coins, one by one.

“Fell from the sky,” Ewan said.

“Ha, ain’t even tryin'.”

“Truth will cost you a discount.”

“Na mate, coins are better. They outlive the truth,” Cork said, biting the coins then scrubbing them against his overcoat. “All’s good. Come, lemme show ya the digs.”

The shipmates stared at Ewan as he followed Cork through the door and down the deck. A musty chemical stench mixed with piss, shit, sweat, and rotting flesh assaulted him. Dim glass lanterns burned on the walls; the wooden floor squeaked with each step. And cages crammed with chained Starons lined both sides of the narrow corridor, their dead yet feral eyes unmasking the ‘goods’.

This was a slave ship.

Aleth08

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