Where is the Love? [Aliannah&Dekkys | Job]

Knight of the Aurora

“Professional shmufesional,” Elias said half to himself, half to the little arctic fox sitting on his shoulder. He’d just stepped off the Gangplank of the Prince D’Or, one of the West Fiore Trading Company’s smaller transport ships, and taken his first steps on Tolagen in a month. The ship itself was decent, a two-masted vessel. If Elias was correct in his memory, the ship would be called a brig. Maybe a bilander though, he was no expert on sail rigging. It was a small ship either way and incredibly fast as far as he understood it. Perfect for whatever small and quick buck the Trading Company wanted to make. It was also cheap and carried very little cargo. Exactly the kind of first solo assignment to send a rookie on.

“Sent out to ‘manage the cargo’,” He continued. “Like the crew didn’t have that handled already. I mean technically I’m qualified to fight pirates. That would’ve been nice but noooooo, all I had to do was babysit some senile old man we picked up halfway through. Constantly gibbering about a giant marlin or something.”

“You think there’d be a literary reference in there,” Ville appeared on Elias’ shoulder, tearing at a piece of jerky he’d stolen from the ship’s galley.

“I would’ve recognized it if there was one.” Elias peeled off one arm of his white coat. “And would you move for a sec, white looks awful on me.”

“You’re right,” Ville didn’t move. Elias let out an overdone sigh.

The two walked in silence the rest of the way. Elias instead drank in the sweet sound of seagulls and happily said goodbye to the clinging stench of salt, brine, and half-dead fish. A foreman from the hauler’s guild shouted orders on the ship’s deck, unloading cargo of one sort or another as the men took their time unloading, but even that quickly faded behind the clicks of Elias’ boots on flagstones and the bustling crowds of the Trading Company’s home city. Every inch of Elias wanted to crawl back into his apartment and finally wash off the layer of sweat and salt that had grown on his body during the voyage. Then see if he could work the stains out of his uniform.

The warm scent of fried food wafted from one of the port district’s many bars. Elias checked the sign, but it only displayed a mermaid, her paint long sunbleached but still clearly in the process of taking off her scallop-shell bra. With a musical note floating above her head, Elias cautioned to call the place the Singing Siren. Just for the alliteration. Though what truly attracted the blonde man was the scent of fresh fries, fried fish, and Fainéant 1444 (A lucky year for wine, Elias’ birth year too). Although Elias thoroughly doubted that such a place would carry some of the finer wines. Anything had to be better than the red swill he drank with the captain. Who the hell would trust a wine from Seven anyways?

Inside, the bar was packed. Every stool stood taken by captain, sailor, husband, and wife alike. THe main room housed four long tables and benches. Those, too, were packed. A little warmth appeared in Elias’ belly, now confident that he’d found a good place to eat. That was if he could even get a table. A waitress appeared out of the crowd, wearing sailing trousers, a puffy shirt, and a skull and crossbones bandana.

“You looking to eat or drink,” She asked with the kind of smile only waitresses make.

“Hopefully both,” Elias replied, “And, uh, maybe some for the little guy too. Just food though.” He gestured towards Ville, sitting silently on his shoulder.”

“Wait’s an hour unless you don’t mind sitting with other folks.” The waitress scanned the room just to be sure

“Meeting new people can’t hurt,” Elias said with a shrug.

The waitress nodded and led him along. Weaving around one family with a particularly rowdy child, then another young sailor’s vomit. She shouted something over the din, and a waiter appeared armed with a mop and a very large bucket of water. Finally, at the very end of a table, right next to the back of the bar and among five burly sailors and their even burlier captain. Elias could feel their stares burning through his chest as the waitress showed him a seat and promised to deliver the fish and food soon. Ville hopped down onto the table and Elias started shrugging off his coat. The arctic fox closed his eyes, but his grin didn’t escape Elias’ notice.

“Uh, Hi,” Elias said, his eyes darting between each man. He wasn’t sure which man to look at. “I’m Elias.”

THe sailors burst into laughter. One of them clapped alis hard on the back and doubled over. Even the captain couldn’t help what Elias could only interpret as a moment of sheer hilarity purely at his own expense. He was sure he hadn’t said anything wrong. A mug of beer hit the table in front of Elias and, not knowing what else to do, he downed it. Frothy, fresh, and just a little bit bitter. Good stuff, probably brewed around back too. Elias sat the mug back on the table and wiped away the foam on his upper lip. The sailors’ laughter redoubled.

“A rookie AND and he can slam a beer,” One of the sailors choked out. All Elias could do was sit there awkwardly. Even Ville was stifling his own laughter. “This is pure gold!”

The sailors’ laughter subsided after what felt like an eternity. One of them, still snickering, said, “So tell us about your first voyage, Rookie.”

So Elias told them of his somewhat short voyage aboard the Roi D’Or. The old man and his marlin and the weird standoffishness the officers and crew treated him. Nothing special really, but it seemed to draw more laughter out of the sailors around.

“Now that sounds like Cap'n Stockton,” One of the sailors said

“Idiot’s been trying to buy that ship for years. Of course he hates the Trading Company,” Another continued.

“The perfect place to send a rookie,” the first one agreed.

The captain called for another round, Elias included. The younger wizard insisted on getting the one after that. A basket of fried fish landed in front of him. He asked the name of their ship.

“Captain Banningham of the Russo Cielo,” the captain said. “And here we’ve got Fix, Bert, Sprink, Shooter, and Zoo.” Each one pointed themselves out as Banningham went around the table.

Then Elias’ second round arrived. He guessed it was the sailors’ third. They talked of ships and sails. Of their voyages around Tolagen and Ishtar. Elias talked about his debacles as a wizard and the sailors talked of ports they’d seen both near and far. Round after round passed. He started to lose track after the fifth. In some faintly remembered haze of laughter, stories, and booze, Elias found himself on the street. Ville had gone back to the celestial world and somehow he’d remembered his coat. He muttered something about hating the color white and wandered home.

A clocktower’s bells rang eleven just as Elias found his apartment. The alcohol had only barely begun to leak away from his veins while he fumbled for his keys. They hit the ground with a jangle and Elias knocked his head against the front gate as he moved to grab them. The bars, though, were wider than they ought to be and he slipped an arm between them and opened the gate. Someone walked behind Elias, skirting away from the already drunk man. He half-walked, half-stumbled his way into the mail-foyer-kinda room when, in his drunken stupor, Elias decided to check the mail.

There was one letter. From Bellum. No other return address save for the sole initial ‘J’. The land of magic, where nigh everyone was a mage in some capacity. Mother had sent Elias to study there for a semester to learn “more about his true heritage” or somesuch. Some folks had the revolutionary idea not just to use magic to cook, but to actually create magic spices. That was kinda cool, but the name wasn’t one of his old classmates. Not that Elias liked them anyway. The closest thing he made to a friend there was a serving boy named James. The only one not drunk on magic by pure virtue of not having it. He skimmed it. Danger. Leave. Help. Most words split into two but Elias thought he got the message and his stomach dropped so far he had to run back outside and vomit in the bushes.

Time blurred and Elias found himself run walking down twelfth, then a right toward Aliannah’s apartment. He hoped. Moments or maybe minutes later, he stumbled onto what should have been her door with a bang before knocking rapidly a half dozen times and sliding to the ground with his back against her door.

WORD COUNT: 2310 | 16000