The rain and wind has gotten worse. So much so that Simon worries. Not for his life, but for the life of the incoming vessel. He can see the ship clearly now as the winds buffet the ship off course, only for the [Helmsman] to correct. The [High Paladin] can’t help but nod in appreciation of such skillful mastery. He can only imagine the difficulty of taming such a small and light ship in such a violent storm.

He looks up at the thundering clouds and gives a silent prayer for mercy upon the Timbergrove. Whether his prayers will be answered is something the one divine has a say. So long as the crew and [Captain] are of good spirit and good soul, then they will make it in time.

“[Captain],” A woman with staff in hand rushes to his side. She bows. “The [Sailors] are in position to assist the Timbergroves crew.”

He nods. “Good. And the tent?”

“It is being set up as we speak.” She pauses for a moment with an expression of uncertainty

“Speak, [Paladin] Samantha. Do not let uncertainty chain your mind.”

She sighs. “The ship sir, it hoists no flag, but the ship is well-armed. The cannons are large and of Buxon make- not to say anything of the ballista upon its deck. To me, the ship screams [Pirate] in everything but flag. Could we be inviting danger if we are to provide assistance.”

“Absolutely,” Simon exclaims. “It is a risk, but it is a greater risk of ones soul if the ship contains innocence and we did not provide assistance. As is our teaching, a single innocent life is worth more than a ship of criminals.”

Simon places a firm hand upon the woman's steel pauldron.

“As [Paladins], we are charged with the safety of not just our flock, but of all souls. We must take such risks and carry the burdens of failure or risk losing the great ones guidance.”

She bows. “I understand. My fear blinded me.”

“Not fear, but love for those close to you. Now go, make sure the tent is properly prepared. I will assist the [Sailors] and invite the ships crew.”

“Yes, [Captain].”

She turns around and rushes back to camp. When her form disappears, he returns his gaze towards the incoming frigate. He takes a slow breath and makes his way to the pier. When he arrives, he can't help but be impressed with the great ones creation. The pier is made of the same unbreakable metal as the tower. The pier is wide with poles morphing out of the sides and ending in a glowing metal orb. Around the pole, his crew have already tied rope that they will use to keep the Timbergrove in place. They also have tied rope to themselves in case they fall.

At his arrival, all present give him a respectful nod of the head instead of a bow. Understandable, for current circumstances do not allow such wasteful movement. The Timbergrove is coming in fast, far faster than expected.

He watches the ship curiously, finding it odd that it has not started to slow. He can already see the nervousness of the [Sailors]. Many are taking position to run because the frigate looks like it will crash.

“Hold. Cored frigates can slow on a dime.” He exclaims.

His words alleviate fears as the timbergrove is only fifty meters away.

And, just as expected, the ship's both side and top sails shift. The ship decelerates rapidly, to the point that it stops at a mere foot from crashing.

The [Captain] or [Helmsman] must be very high level to calculate such a stop.

The thought enters and leaves just as fast for the ship's crew begins throwing down rope to his [Sailors] while his [Sailors] do the same. Both crew start rushing around and tying the ship to the pier.

It takes awhile for the Timbergrove to be tightly docked, but it eventually is. With such a large amount of rope and the unmoving tower, the ship should weather the storm with ease.

Just then, a plank is lowered from the ship to the pier. Simon rushes forward and stops with arms at his back.

The first to exit the ship is a man larger than himself. A giant of a man with broad shoulders that carries a puffy cat. Upon the man's back is a large curved sword with many runes.

Boriss Smirnov: Level 4 [Security Chief]

Simon relaxes at the sight of the man's job. Not a [Pirate], nor does the man have a high level for the job. But, such a level does not make a weak class. Nay, Simon would believe the man is an expert classer by the confidence alone.

Behind the man, the [First Mate], [Chief Carpenter], and [Quartermaster] follow- all with a remarkably low level. At this point, he can’t help but feel a bit nervous. Something doesn't feel right.

Where is the [Captain]? The thought enters his mind, only for an old bearded man to reveal himself right before the bridge.

Staring at him, no message pops up.

Is he hiding his job? Does he have one? Does he have an item that blocks [Captains Authority]? Is he the captain?”

“Thanks for the help.”

He hears a high pitch voice that forces him from staring at the old man.

“Of course.” He looks to the source of the voice, only to be met with the broad shouldered man named Boriss. He quickly glances at the other members, but finds them silent and unreactive. Unsure, he decides to look at the group as a whole. “The Tower-Ecclesiasticus is always happy to assist those in need.” Thunder roars and rain begins pouring ever stronger from above. Simon quickly raises a hand. “Apologies, but is your [Captain] around? I would like to invite them and their crew to join us in a tent we’ve prepared near the tower. I imagine it will be far more comfortable to rest there than on your ship.”

“Huh, that’s actually really nice. We’ll accept.” The voice speaks and Simon focuses on the towering man that should not have such a low pitch.

The man chuckles when they make eye contact. He raises a finger and points at the cat. “Fluffy [Captain] is here,” he says with an expectantly deep voice.

When Simon truly looks at the cat, the cat smiles back. “What? Never seen a cat [Captain] before?”

____________________________________________________________

“A talking cat that just so happens to also be the [Captain] of the ship. That sounds like a skill. Maybe a [Druid] skill? I heard they can change into animals.”

James walks alongside Simon while the rain pours overhead. The daily prayer service is finished and it is now time for him to meet Timbergroves crew.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“I asked, but Quasi says that he is just a cat,” Simon explains.

James shakes his head. “His name is Quasi? Odd name, that. What of his character?”

“Accentric,” Simon says immediately. “But I don’t believe him to be malicious.”

“Why is that?”

“An older man and his young grandson are traveling with the crew. It isn’t company I’d expect from people with compromised morals.”

“Ahh, that is good. Very good. Those who care for the weakest of a group are those of greatest morals.”

Simon nods with a smile. “I agree wholeheartedly.”

The two stop in front of a large tent only recently set up. Wind and rain buffet the structure, but it holds with ease. With a pause and a breath, the two enter.

Within the tent, the entire crew of the Timbergrove is sitting around a table with plenty of food provided. Two servants wait patiently at the ends of the tent. At the head of the table is a human boy feeding a cat on the table. All eyes turn to him.

Dripping wet, James steps towards them and does a bow. “I would like to thank you all for accepting my invitation. It does my soul well to help those in need.”

The cat swallows a piece of meat. Then he glances at the elderly man and raises a paw at James. “Myers, he’s a wolven, right?” the cat asks.

Myers sighs. “Yes, he is of the wolven race.”

“Aight, good to know. James, right? There's a towel next to you. You might want to dry off and join us at the table. The food’s pretty good. Especially this weird meat.”

James glances to the side and does indeed find a stand with several towels. “We accept your offer,” he says for both himself and Simon.

Both take a towel and start drying themselves. For James, the process is far more arduous on account of all the fur. For Simon, the [High Paladin] only needs to wipe his hair. The quality of fitting for Simon's plate armor keeps everything but his head dry. He does still dry his hair. Once James is no longer dripping, he takes a seat at one of the empty chairs with Simon.

He glances at the cat once more, and finds him to be enjoying the meat quite a bit.

“The meat you are eating comes from a bromos and is a staple food source on Okami. It is a medium sized bipedal animal known for consuming bamboo. Very nutritious and the meat is always tender on account of the breeding.”

The cat swallows and looks at James. “Okami is the wolven capital, right? That’s pretty far from here. You must have traveled quite the distance.” Quasi asks.

“Okami is the island. Okamina is the capital city that houses the wolven empire. As for distance, the pilgrimage has indeed taken a while. But, the difficulty is part of the test in faith.”

“A test we’ve succeeded at.” Simon adds. The [High Paladin] is already filling his plate with a smile on his face. The man enjoys food just as much as he enjoys the faith.

“Say,” a short human interrupts. “I don’t suppose you have some alcohol native to Okami?”

The cat rolls his eyes. “Seriously Cillian? We’ve just met the man and you’re already trying to get drunk.”

“What?” Cillian spreads his arms. “The food’s good, I’m just trying to get something appropriate to wash it down.”

James chuckles. “It is fine and I would argue proper. Meeting new people should be a joy and celebration.” He looks to a servant. “Bring me a gourd of Okami delight and several o-choko. We will do this properly”

The servant bows and rushes out.

_____________________________________________________________

As the servant rushes out, I can't help but find James fascinating. The man looks like a less muscular and smaller Fenrimorph. Minus the four eyes, horns, and spiked tail. His features also do not look feral at all. Oddly enough, the man has an aura of civility around him with plenty of charisma to boot. Which could be because of his job.

James Watanabe: Level 63 [Pilgrim-speaker Bishop]

The man’s level is very high, even higher than the man next to him.

Simon Laquerdis: Level 57 [Faith-Guardian Captain]

Both are expert classes, so their combat prowess is equal to or higher than that Buxon I killed. Probably higher, especially Simon. He’s wearing full plate armor smothered in runes similar to Emma’s armor.

Regardless, both seem rather friendly with a strong religious background. I sense no malice from them whatsoever.

I clear my throat, not that anything is in the way. “So, Myers says you guys are part of the Tower-Ecclesiasticus, a religion that worships these towers. I’m curious to hear about it- both the history and its teachings.”

Instalty, James' eyes seem to sparkle as all context of food is removed. “Of course,” he says happily. “The Tower-Ecclesiasticus was formed a hundred years ago from an offshoot of the Wolven-Ministorum who worship the wolven [Emperor]. The early believers felt that the [Emperor] is merely a man who can directly communicate with the one divine and not the Divine himself. The Tower-Ecclesiasticus differs in that we believe the towers are the divine ear. Through prayer at the towers, it is believed the divine can hear the prayers directly from the people.”

I nod. “So the [Emperor] is a middleman while the towers are direct forms of communication. I imagine the [Emperor] is not fond of such beliefs.”

James sighs. “They were not initially. The Wolven-Inquisition was ordered to eradicate the budding Tower-Ecclesiasticus, so the members were forced to flee to Magnis. The founders quickly formed the Towers Guild and accepted the protection from the Republic of Guilds. The [Emperor] threatened war with the Republic over allowing such a religious guild to exist. But the republic stood firm and the [Emperor] backed off.”

“He just backed off? Just like that? I find that hard to believe.”

James opens his mouth to explain, but Simon beats him to the punch.

“The Republic of Guilds is a major power in all ways from trade, military might, and levels. The only weakness is the constant bickering between guilds. But if the republic was attacked, that weakness would be temporarily eliminated. No major power wants to fight such a powerful enemy.”

“I disagree with that assessment.” Myers interrupts the conversation. “Even if the guilds came together, forming an organized military force takes time and training. The Empire's military organization would still be far superior in the early stages of the war. No, the reason they backed off is because the republic has three master classes and the empire has only one.”

I perk up. “Master class is seventy-five and over, right? Are they really that powerful?”

“Yes,” answers Myers.

“No,” answers Simon.

The two glance at each other, then they chuckle good naturedly.

James joins in the laughter as well.

Everyone else just looks confused, including me. I raise a paw.

“Am I missing something?”

James shakes his head while still bearing a smile. “No, no. I hear this argument all the time from [Captains]. Always the same argument.”

“About how strong master classes are?” I ask.

“More-so about how much of a force multiplier a master class actually is for a country. Some argue they are the same as a dozen Experts while others argue it is equivalent to hundreds- not that all experts are created equal. Named experts can be armies unto themselves.”

Yea. The only named expert I’ve seen fight is the Lion’s Maw. The guy single handedly took out an entire crew from far away without breaking a sweat. That was probably not even his full capability. If a master class is even stronger, then it would make sense to avoid a country with three.

Just then, the flaps of the tent open and the servant arrives with a gourd, including several saucers.

“Ah, perfect. It is here.” James exclaims. He stands up and extends his hand to the servant. “Give it here. I will do th-” his words are interrupted as the tent flaps burst open. A woman in armor rushes inside and slams into the servant. Both fall with the gourd and saucers shattering upon the metal floor. A scot whines in the background while Simon stands up angry.

“Samantha! What is the meaning of thi-” he pauses when the woman looks up to reveal and expression of utter fear.

“[Captain],” she takes a breath, “a ship is approaching. He is approaching!” she exclaims in panic

Simon frowns. “What ship? Who is he?”

She swallows. “Valentine.”