With all the warnings I had received about the docks I had kind of built a mental image of what the place would look like. There would be rough people on every corner and graffiti all over, and some people peddling drugs and stuff out of long trench coats.

Instead the docks were merely a very busy place. Hundreds of people moving about between wagons and carts. Formations of guards stomped across the middle of the road with plenty of space around them and the only groups I saw waiting on the corners of streets were grenoils and some humans with signs saying they were looking for work.

The place even smelled a bit better than the rest of the city, maybe because the road ended with a railing overlooking a huge cliff and that meant that there was a constant wind blowing past to take any smells away.

With Gabriel at the front, we had no trouble cutting through the crowd. People seemed to just get out of his way, and when he did deviate from his straight path it was always to avoid a wagon that would have blocked our path in a few steps.

“So cool,” I said as I looked to my right where a huge zeppelin-like ship was coming into dock. It was the size of a modern jet. One big balloon with some green banners on its side and a bunch of ship-like parts protruding out of the bottom. I could see people running around inside through small portholes.

There seemed to be two kinds of airships. Big blimp-y ones. Basically large balloons with some engines sticking out of them. And airships that looked like sea-going ships but with a whole lot of crystal bits jutting out of the hull and big engines that spewed blue-grey smoke out of big pipes.

“Stop staring like a country bumpkin,” Amaryllis said. “We’re getting close. If you fall behind I’m not coming back to fetch you.”

“Oh, right!” I said as I snapped back to attention. It didn’t last very long, my eyes kept darting around to take everything in.

The docks were built on a few levels, with a wooden pier one level up that shook and thundered with the footsteps of the people moving about and another level below ours that stuck out of the cliff face and stretched out into long piers that ships were docking at.

“Zat’s our ride,” Gabriel called out as he pointed down one pier.

The ship docked there was one of the smaller airships around, maybe thirty meters long. It was one of those strange hybrid sorts with sails folded by its sides and a large engine sitting in its middle. Two huge propellers stuck out of the back, spinning idly in the breeze.

The crew crawling over the rigging and running across the deck all wore deep blue shirts and, wonder of wonders, were nearly all human--save for a few grenoil.

“Hoh there!” a man called as he stepped across the gangplank leading to the ship without so much as a glance at the fall below. “Are you the group from the Exploration Guild?” he asked.

“Yeah, we are,” Gabriel said. “You’re Isaac?”

“That I am,” the man said. He doffed his big tricorn hat and placed it over his chest as he gave our group an extravagant bow.

I couldn’t resist, even if it was a little bit rude...

A proud Sky Captain, level ?.

“Is that your ship?” I asked, pointing to the vessel next to us that was gently bobbing in the air. “It’s gorgeous.”

The captain, Isaac, rose up and stared at me. “Um,” he said.

The Silver Boot, a Mattergrove airskiff captained by Isaac Pinewood, well-maintained.

“It is, yes,” the captain said, his chest puffing out a little. “She’s been with me for some years now. The sleekest skiff east of the Seven Peaks. We’ve fought through storms and flew out of the grasp of air pirates on more than one occasion together, and she’s never once failed me.”

“Sky pirates,” I repeated. “You are the coolest person I have ever met,” I said.

Isaac scratched at his chin right next to his really cool mustache. “Well, thank you, I suppose.”

“Right,” Gabriel said. “Enough fawning over ze dry skin, let’s get aboard and get out of zis hole.” He crossed the gangplank then shouted over his shoulder. “Where’re ze cabins on zis zing?”

“Let me show you,” Isaac said before jumping ahead of Gabriel and leading him, and us, over to the back of the ship. It took a few steps to get used to the swaying underfoot, but that was a small price to pay for stepping onto an actual airship.

“You really are a country bumpkin,” Amaryllis said as she looked at me. Her expression was hard to read, but it was somewhere between horror and disgust.

“We don’t have airships where I’m from,” I said truthfully. “We do have aircraft, but it’s not the same. And what’s wrong with looking for the wonder in the things I see? Isn’t that the whole goal of the Exploration Guild?”

“I suppose,” Amaryllis allowed. “Just don’t get in my way. This expedition will be over soon enough, I hope.”

I let the comment go. I didn’t want to push her just yet.

Isaac showed us to a lower floor of the airskiff where there were tiny rooms with hammocks strung between the walls and tiny portholes to see out of. The inside of the ship was a bit cramped, and there was a persistent smell like burning rope and motor oil, but I could live with it. “And this leads onto the gallery,” he said as he opened a door onto a balcony. I followed eagerly, then gripped the edge of the rails as I suddenly found myself looking down at a drop of hundreds of meters to the rocky ground below. “Watch yourself there,” he warned.

“Right!” I said.

“I can give you a proper tour once we’ve taken off and the ship has settled. In the meanwhile, please keep to this deck. The galley is towards the bow and the head is on the port side. Don’t use it until we’re no longer docked. It’s a bit of a faux-pas to empty the head at port.” He grinned at the group and pressed his hat down on his head a moment before a gust of wind blew past. “I need to get things sorted up top. It might be better if you wait in your rooms.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Yes sir,” I said with a sloppy salute. I wasn’t about to get on his bad side, especially if it meant losing any privileges aboard the Silver Boot.

We returned to our rooms. The twins France and Florian had their own, and Gabriel had a bigger room all to himself. That left me and Amaryllis to bunk together in a space that was smaller than my closet back home.

Not that that was too bad. I had a pretty big closet.

“I’m taking the top,” my partner said without a second glance before she tossed herself onto the hammock above.

“Okay,” I said. The bottom had a better view out of the porthole anyway. I stashed my things to the side then pulled out my copy of A Guide to Manipulating the Essence and sat on the ground with my legs stretched out. The hammock wouldn’t let me feel the rumble of the airskiff and it would be harder to read with the heavy book hanging above my head.

The first few pages were filed with warnings about practicing magic without proper supervision and some of the dangers that came from uncontrolled magic. The kinds of things that I expected to see in any manual for a complicated machine, but with a magical edge to it.

Of course magic was dangerous, all the best things in life were a little risky.

“You know magic?” Amaryllis asked.

I looked up just in time to see her shifting around to stare back at the ceiling. “Not really,” I said. “I’m hoping to learn though. I’ve been practicing really hard and trying my best, but I’m not very good at it. Cleaning spells are pretty much the best I can manage for now.”

“Tch. Cleaning spells are for peasants.”

“I practice mine on the undead. It’s really effective.”

Amaryllis looked down again. “What?”

“I think it’s because cleaning magic is close to holy? Or maybe it has some sort of purifying effect? I’m not sure, but I’m positive I’ll find out if I read enough about magic.” I looked up a big grin. “You’re a mage, right? You must be super good at magic stuff?”

The harpy crossed her arms (or were they wings?) over her chest. “Of course I’m good. I went to the greatest academies in the Nesting Kingdom. I certainly know more about magic than some peasant like you.”

“Neat,” I said. “Maybe I’ll know something you don’t, and we can trade lessons later. I’d love to learn more about magic and how it all works.” The skiff shuddered and I felt it starting to move underfoot. “We’re taking off!” I said as I dropped my book to my side and rushed to the porthole.

The docks were slowly receding as we moved backwards out of the port, the propellers behind the ship whirling like mad to pull us away. Then we slowed to a stop and the entire ship shifted so that its front was pointing to the sky.

“Whoa,” I said as we shot forwards. I had to hold onto the walls to stop myself from falling. The city outside of the window flew past. Not at the kinds of speeds a plane back home could reach, but still plenty fast, and we were far closer to the city than any plane would dare fly over back home.

After a moment, the skiff stabilized and its flight became a little more even. That’s when someone knocked at our door.

“C’mong kiddies,” Gabriel’s gruff voice called out. “Get to ze galley. We’ve got missions to talk about and I want to get it over wiz before I drown my sorrows.”

“Is he the one that smelled like alcohol?” Amaryllis asked.

I nodded, then because she couldn’t see me, answered aloud. “He is. It’s really not a good example to set. Still, I trust that the guild wouldn’t send someone too bad to accompany us.”

Amaryllis landed on the ground next to me. “I hope you’re right,” she said.

I tucked away my book which had slid across the floor, then followed Amaryllis out into the corridor and to the front (bow?) of the ship. The area was little more than a very basic kitchen with a desk and a few chairs, all firmly bolted to the floor. Gabriel was at the head of the table, two stacks of paper before him with a knife through each to prevent them from moving.

The twins had beaten us to the mess and were already sitting down.

“Hello again,” I said as I sat between Gabriel and Amaryllis.

“Hrm,” Gabriel said. He pulled a flask from his belt and took a swig. “Alright tadpoles, let ze old man chat for a bit, and zen you can run off to do whatever.”

He tapped one of the folders before him. I was mildly surprised to see paper being used for such frivolous stuff, I thought it was more valuable, but maybe there was some sort of paper-making magic out there? Or a paper dungeon with paper drops?

“Zis is an easy one. Even you brats ought to be able to pull it off. Twins, zere has been a shift in ze magical ley lines. Can either of you sense mana well enough to track ze source down?”

“I can do zat,” Florien said.

“Good, zen do it,” Gabriel said as he removed the knife holding one file in place and slid it to the twins. “As for you two. Zere is an old fort, made when we zought zere would be war with ze Trentans. It’s been decommissioned and left to rot. Check it out, map ze roads around it.”

He pulled the second knife out of the table and handed me the file.

“Now I’m going to go get very drunk. Don’t bozer me.”