Frank's narration was corny as shit, but as the fabled vessel was lifted from the marine by the unseen mechanisation, I understood the grandeur. Once a new row of lights gave the ship the attention she deserved, I drank in its appearance with the same thirst as I did with that golden shield. It appeared to be in the sloop class, but on the smaller end. Less than half the size of Ruby's galleon with a smoother design, it had a vintage quality despite its tech. With my limited understanding of ship types, I’d place it as a ketch, maybe a bit smaller.

The hull was a gleaming bronze that shone brilliantly off the dusty light bulbs, and contrasted against the dull gold of the bow. The masts were shorter than a sailboat, and I wasn’t even going to pretend I knew why, but it gave this ‘Cloud Edge’ a compact look once it was fully free of the deep water beneath it. I wouldn’t dare have said it out loud, but I felt as captivated as I did when I saw the shield. I still felt stubborn enough for a few more grumbles though.

“This thing sails through the air? You saw me ‘dock’ the ships earlier, and that was on water, how the hell would I ever drive this thing?”

“You wouldn’t. It’s mostly automated, and anything manual you can leave to your crew. All you have to do is steer, I think even a postman can figure that out,” Frank chortled “I love this vessel like a son, but to be honest, it’s a pain to keep it hidden and maintained. I think if you hold ‘er as tight as you do that golden trinket, she’ll be in good hands.”

“I still haven't agreed to anything, Frank. I don’t even know where I’d find a…navigator or whatever.” I said defiantly as I eyed up the deck.

“Aye, finding your crew is half the fun, laddie, but I can do some sniffing about to get ye started. I left a checklist in the captain's cabin along with all of your other crap out of the other ships.”

“You went through all the cargo on both ships, and moved it to this one?”

"Think of it as new storage, my dockhands have brought over all the crates that weren't nailed down or water-logged and stuffed ‘em in the hold. In truth, most of it was already lost in the crash, so I spared you a couple of my own barrels to get ye started.”

“You keep talking as if I’ve agreed to this shit!” I snapped back.

“Well then convince yerself you need to sleep on it. The captain’s cabin is swanky, and it’s warm. Spend the night, and then come see me tomorrow morning, ‘cause I got shit to do, ya hear?”

I grumbled under my breath as Frank quickly walked me through the light switches and ship submerge system. It turned out that the ‘Cloud Edge’ was completely airtight, and all interiors could be sealed off when underwater. He said it doubled as a ‘submarine’ but I haven’t a clue what that meant.

After throwing me a large ring of at least 10 keys, he gave me a sarcastic salute and was gone. He moved fast for a stubby dwarf. By the time I had peeked out the side door to wave Knives inside, he was already halfway up the pier, loudly humming 'The Orcish Maid' with an impressive tone.

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Once back inside, I double checked to make sure no one but knives was looking, and ran towards the freshly damp vessel, almost skipping with every step. I was infatuated with the ship from that very moment, and I couldn't wait to see more. I was giddy with barely repressed curiosity as I turned the lock to the captain's cabin door after Knives swiftly swooped in to join me.

The size of the cabin from the outside was deceptive, it almost looked like a storage hatch because of the odd shape of the door. But once inside, my throat widened with my eyes in unison; this room was huge. My boots pressed against a very fine rug a few steps upon entry, it had a texture that wouldn’t feel out of place in a mansion, but I couldn’t quite make out the pattern. The light from the storage house bulbs illuminated the cabin just enough that I didn’t need a candle, but it was dark enough to leave my eyes a little curious.

While I was still hypnotised by the ornate interior design of the cabin walls, Knives wasted no time making his way to the end of the cabin, darting half a dozen feet with a quick flap of his wings.

“The Captain’s desk?” My voice was full of intrigue as I walked over to the large wooden half-table and ran my palm across its varnished surface. “Old man didn’t spare any expense here…”

With another flap, Knives hopped from the desk to the backrest of the large black chair behind it and squeezed just hard enough with his talons to make the leather surface squeak invitingly. I looked up at my trust friend and cocked a smirk and he turned his head sideways before giving an approving squawk.

“Alright, fine. But only because you asked so nicely,” I quipped before strolling round the desk to sink into the chair. “Its….holy shit…”

‘Comfortable’ was too insulting of an understatement to describe this wonderful seat; it was a marvel of pleasant contradictions. It was both sturdy and soft. Sleek but worn in. Regal, but humble. In only a few seconds I was just as attached to it as my shield, and it took a frustrated calling cry from knives to stop me from dozing in comfort.

"What? The notes he left?" I asked knives as he pointed his beak down at a stack of papers written in fairly fresh ink. The top page had an inventory list of the food, fuel and ammo which I could only assume was stock of the pre-loaded cargo. Flicking through the pages I saw some more technical stuff; ship dimensions, charted journeys, equipment specs and a whole load of sailor jargon I was happy I never had to learn. It was only when I got to the personnel ist that Knives squawked abruptly, forcing me to hold the page.

“It’s just got a list of previous crew members and their positions on the ship, don’t recognise any of the names…” My eyes flicked past a bunch of stupid nicknames and fixed on the ship. “‘Captain’…I guess that’d be me, ‘Cook’, yes please. Powder…Monkey…and a...” I looked up at Knives with a perplexed frown. “What the hell is a ‘Botswain’ !?”

Knives made a sound that sounded like a high pitched hoot, no doubt finding my lack of knowledge on the subject hilarious. I ran my finger down to a word I did recognise and held the sheet up to his beak.

“See that? ‘First Mate’. I understand that just fine. That’s what you are, my first-of-mates!” I enjoyed a deep chuckle as Knives hooted again before turning his head.

“No? Well who else?”

Knives tilted his head at just the right angle to make me shake mine.

“Noooo, no way in hell. Knives. I’d sooner do every role on this list myself before I…”

Knives hollered in protest. A big difficulty with arguing with Direhawks is that they are so fucking loud you can rarely get a sentence finished. But his piercing cries were painfully drilling home a good point.

“Experienced, yes. But trustworthy? Shit… she's probably drowned in a pitcher of ale back at that soggy pub. Don’t forget all the crap with the shield too. I couldn’t…”

When Knives squawked again I felt a headache coming on like a tidal wave. It was being amplified by a growling hunger that I just then became aware of.

“Alright, there’s a hell of a lot to think about. I’m not even sure about this whole captain thing yet. But before another word on this subject, I need to eat, and you do too, Killer.

Knives hollered once more, but this time it was in agreement.