“So this is Smoothgulf?”

The caravan slowly arrived in a wide city. Its size was even bigger than Lakefield, who was already the biggest city Mahon and Jorik had seen in their life. No defensive walls limited its perimeters, and the houses had spread everywhere in the vicinity as a result.

They were all different, from the single homes to the wide villas with gardens. The roads resulting from the intricacies of so many disparate buildings were a labyrinth few could ever boast to know.

In short, the whole city was a giant mess. Like an immense bazaar under the open sky, merchants and tourists exchanged goods from all over the world. Few guards were seen patrolling the streets, and beggars were totally absent from the scene, a clear sign of the abundance of wealth in the kingdom of Ripa.

The salty smell of the ocean was carried around by the gentle but constant wind and the incessant squawks of seagulls and jaegers punctuated the life of Smoothgulf citizens who didn’t seem to even notice them anymore.

Coming from the lands, Mahon noticed a strange forest waving in the horizon, behind all the buildings. As the caravan weaved further inside the city, he came to the realization it was actually the myriad of ships whose masts were slowly rocking with the waves.

Their journey from Finem to Ripa had been completely without any issue. In fact, it had been so boringly long that Mahon and Jorik had spent most of their time in Nightmare, practicing magic. They drew a gigantic map of their travel on the ground of Nightmare, besides the full-size plan of Lakefield.

Obviously, this time they couldn’t do it at the same scale, but given they had plenty of space and time to play with, they tried to make it as big as possible. First, they used the map they had copied from the library, and then they added their own details as they passed by those places.

One of Jorik’s current tasks was to use his invoked dagger to sculpt a figurine for Mahon and him so they could follow their progression day to day.

The noble was almost a genius when it came to Nightmare, and he was even quicker than Mahon in learning how to invoke his weapon and grow it. Jorik liked to think it was because Mahon was an excellent teacher, but Mahon had taught plenty of people to recognize true talent when he saw it, and Jorik was definitely a genius.

Training in Nightmare was nice, but they were even more pleased to reach an important milestone of their trip and finally change their daily routine. Their arrival to Smoothgulf marked the end of the first quarter of their journey, and the duo couldn’t wait to see more of the world. They couldn’t stand muxales and carts any longer, and coincidentally, they had never been on a boat before, nor lived by the sea.

The caravan stopped somewhere in the main market where Mahon and Jorik waved a quick goodbye at the caravanners and its escort before walking to the harbor. They didn’t need any direction as they could simply follow the smell of fishes and the sight of the masts above the houses.

When they finally reached the docks, they stopped to take in the view. They had seen the immensity of the sea from far away before while in the caravan, but now that they could see its rolling waves from up close they couldn’t prevent themselves from looking with astonished eyes.

A few knowing smiles from the passersby told them they weren’t the only ones to feel that way when coming to Smoothgulf for the first time, and the duo immersed themselves in the strange feelings of adventure and futileness such an endless blue brought.

After some time, Jorik sighed loudly. “I feel like we’re both moving away from home and getting closer to it at the same time.”

“That caravan really screwed you high.” Mahon commented with a sarcastic smile.

“That’s for sure.” Jorik chuckled. “Come,” he waved, “let’s find that harbormaster’s office and get onto one of those ships. I need to change my mind.”

Asking two passersby their direction, they quickly arrived at an immense building with the widest board sign they had ever seen before. The size of it was actually bigger than a few houses they had passed across on their way here.

“Is that some kind of indication?” Mahon pointed to the sign.

“Seems like it.” Jorik nodded. “Look. First column. Second-to-last row. Greencoast Harbor, Notitia Region. Departure in one day. That’s what we’re looking for.”

“I see it. The Hasty Dolfin III. Dock 12.” With a quick look around, he found other signs pointing to each numbered dock, from one to almost seventy. “I guess we can find the boat ourselves, then.”

Jorik nodded, and instead of answering, he directly walked into the direction of the twelfth dock. Mahon followed in tow, and he soon couldn’t help but gasp at the gigantic vessels parked on the nearby docks. Some had multiple floors, and the biggest even bore five masts. It took Mahon two full minutes to walk from one end to another of that ship.

Once they reached their dock, they had no trouble finding their ship. It was the smallest one they had seen yet, with only two masts. But it was by far the better looking one. It was painted with the same blue as the sky and sea, and its profile was heavily oriented towards speed, with a thin and slim silhouette.

A dozen sailors were occupied in different tasks, from polishing the deck of the ship to loading barrels into its bunker. A man with a blindfold and a dark tricorn with beautiful colored feathers was supervising the whole operation, a notebook in hand.

Jorik naturally walked towards the man who seemed to be the captain and introduced himself.

“Hello, sir. We’re Jorik and Mahon, and as you can probably tell, we’re not from around here. But if I got it correctly, you have seats for a journey to Greencoast Harbor, don’t you?”

The man raised his eyes from his notebook and observed Jorik and Mahon with an amused smile. He then laughed with a deep voice while holding his belly.

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“I’m sorry.” He apologized after a few seconds. “Tourists are just too cute. My name is Triandal. Where are you coming from?”

“Finem.” Jorik answered.

“Oh, I see! Not that far then. Came with a caravan to Smoothgulf, eh?”

Jorik nodded in answer, and Triandal continued his speech.

“To be honest, I hadn’t wanted to be posted on the market’s sign, but I can’t do anything against Smoothgulf’s rules. If you’re looking for a trip to Notitia Region, I would recommend you go to deck fourteen, instead. A ship leaves every week.”

“What’s wrong with your ship? Aren’t you taking passengers?”

“Oh, I am. But I’m not from Ripa, and I don’t use their routes. I prefer to go my own way, and the journey isn’t without its dose of dangers. I only accept rich patrons and people that aren’t afraid to fight when the necessity arises. Sorry, but you don’t seem to fit any of these criteria. There is nothing to worry, you’ve still plenty of time to live and discover the world. But as of now, you should go to dock fourteen.”

Triandal smiled one last time before he pointed to the direction of the corresponding dock and lowered his head to check his note and resume his job.

“How much is it, though?” Mahon asked.

“I’m sorry?” The captain raised his head, surprised to see Mahon and Jorik still standing there. “You? Didn’t you hear what I said? I don’t have time for pampered nobles and…”

Triandal was interrupted by Jorik pulling out his four-star insignia. They hadn’t had the time nor the need to go for higher with everything that happened between their Protector’s promotion and the tournament and trip preparations, but it was actually already considered a high rank in most places.

An admirative whistle slipped past the captain’s lips. “So young and already so talented. Look, I don’t want to deter you, but my journey is often prone to meeting sea monsters and racing against pirates. Calm and relaxation are not part of my vocabulary when I sail. Last time we were hunted by…”

A sack of gold magically appeared in Jorik’s hand, and the noise of the coins clinking shut down the man. He then realized the two young men in front of him were even more eager to join his ship than before. He eyed them one after another with a skeptical look.

“Where does all that money come from? Did you find a dead noble with his escort and stole his gold and four-rank insignia? You know it’s a death crime to carry the insignia of someone else.”

“Look.” Jorik said with a convincing voice. “I know we seem young, but we’re actually legit. We just spent the last four months in a caravan and nothing happened. I almost died of boredom. A bit of action is all I ask.”

The frown on the captain’s face slightly eased. “You’re from Finem, you said?” He added after a bit of thinking. “If you’re really a four-star, then you must belong to an adventurer guild. Show me your insignia and you can join.”

“Actually, we’re from a bodyguard center. Have you ever heard of the Protectors Circle?” Jorik said while flashing his elite Protector insignia.

“The best bodyguard center of Finem? You bet I…” Triandal turned silent at the sight of Jorik insignia.

With a single glance, it was clear it wasn’t just a normal Protector insignia, and the captain returned to his skeptical look instantly. Mahon sighed in exasperation.

“Let’s go the normal way, Jorik. I’m starting to believe we’ll not board that ship.”

“Wait!” Triandal said almost immediately. “I don’t want to have any problem with the Protectors Circle. I just find it hard to believe you’re part of them at such a young age. And that you want to embark on a journey to the other side of the world while you’re… bodyguards.”

“The content of our mission is not to be communicated.” Jorik bluffed with his most convincing tone, and the man seemed to buy it.

“But how can you be a four-stars and an elite of the Protectors, though?”

“It’s a long story.” Jorik sighed. “Why do you care?”

The captain hesitated another second before he threw a nervous look at Mahon. “Your name is Mahon, right? You’re also part of the Protectors?”

“Yes.” Mahon answered with a tone that didn’t allow any discussion.

“Ahem. Can I… Can I see your insignia, then?” Triandal still asked.

Mahon rolled his eyes to the sky, but under Jorik’s insisting look, he finally showed his insignia to the captain. Mahon’s Protector insignia was an instructor’s one, and as such it looked even more pristine than Jorik’s, and Triandal gulped audibly when he saw it. An instructor was at least seven-star.

The captain then scrutinized Mahon and Jorik’s face again and seemed to reach a conclusion he wasn’t ready for. The legend of the two young Protectors who had beaten two sorcerers and a magician by themselves in the final of the Finem tournament had already circled the world. Triandal finally remembered where he had heard the names of Jorik and Mahon before.

“Uh…” He stared at nothing for a long time.

“See? I broke him.” Mahon sighed while shaking his head to Jorik. “Now let’s go to deck fourteen.”

They had acted like nobles in the caravan, and everything had worked out fine since they were in Finem, but now that they were back to the real world, Mahon was already bored of his youthful appearance that made everything suddenly more difficult. If only he looked two or three centuries older, he wouldn’t have any issue at all.

“An instant please!” The captain ran behind them after they had walked a few steps away.

“I swear if you’re uttering anything else but a ‘you’re welcome aboard’, I’m gonna do something we’ll both regret.” Mahon warned the man.

Triandal immediately swallowed his next words before he gestured to his ship and complied with a tight smile.

“You’re welcome aboard.”

“I honestly didn’t think that would work.” Mahon said with a surprised face.

“Never doubt your hidden charisma.” Jorik commented from the side with a smile.

“Wait! It’s not free. You still have to pay for the journey.” Triandal said after he regained his composure.

“I hope after all this theatrics, you’ll offer us a good price, though.” Jorik said with a predatory smile.

“Of course! Of course!” Triandal rushed to agree. “Normally, it’s a hundred gold by head, but for the winner of Finem’s tournament I can cut it in half. So it would be a hundred for both of you!”

“A hundred?” Jorik echoed. “But it’s at least five times higher than a regular ship!”

As the discussion switched to money and haggling, Triandal was back in his comfort zone in an instant.

“Yes it is, but not without any reason. With my baby here,” he pointed proudly to the ship with his thumb, “I can cross the Linpool Sea in four months. That’s almost twice the speed of any other ship!”

“But you also mentioned plenty of dangers.” Jorik argued.

“Cut the bullshit, man! You said yourself you were looking for it!” Triandal retorted before he remembered who he was speaking to and raised his hands in apology.

“Touché.” Jorik answered before the man could excuse himself profusely and handed a pouch with a hundred golds. “It’s a deal, then.”