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Chapter One

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Snow swirled around Rivi. The cheetah had never known such cold. The frigid wind sliced through any patches of exposed fur, prickling the skin beneath with icy needles. His breath froze upon his whiskers. The feline’s nose was numb. The mingling scents of the crowd all around him were muted, and the only thing he could smell now was the oppressive cold. Rivi rubbed his arms and shivered, wishing there was more he could do to stay warm.

Already, the cheetah was dressed in an uncomfortable number of woolen layers, top and bottom. Rivi had long undergarments on beneath his padded sweater, and winter trousers. He wore thick socks beneath his insulated boots, so tight he couldn’t extend his toe claws. All the many gold buttons down the front of his long, indigo overcoat were fastened tight. A purple cap lined with down smothered Rivi’s ears against his head. And yet, somehow, he was still cold.

 Another gust of freezing wind struck Rivi, plastering fat snowflakes against his spectacles. The cheetah reached for his glasses, intent on removing them long enough to wipe them clean. But he paused with his golden-dyed leather gloving hovering in front of his muzzle. Rivi’s spectacles were currently held in place with a headband buried beneath his hat. If he pulled it off now, he feared he might end up with frost-bitten ears. Rivi sighed, conceding to himself that cheetahs were simply not meant for such arctic climates.

“Soon,” Rivi said, lashing his spotted, half-numb tail against the snow. “Soon, we’ll be warm again, Rivi.”

“Who the fuck is we, Cat?” The gray fox in line behind him folded his arms, growling. “I ain’t yer fuckin’ bunk mate.”

Rivi grimaced at the fox’s language. He’d have splayed his ears in dismay, if only they weren’t already wedged against his head, thanks to his hat. “Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear.” He glanced over his shoulder, trying to offer his shorter, gruffer queue companion a friendly smile. “You know, you needn’t use such strong language. Your point is clear enough.”

“And the fuck is Rivi?” The fox glared at him, amber eyes shining amidst the snow that crusted his thick fur. Ice wiggled on his whiskers. “Cause that sure ain’t my name.”

“Well, no…” The cheetah wrong his hands. “Rivi is my name.” He tapped his chest. “I’m Rivi.”

The fox narrowed his eyes, his snow-smothered tail swishing. “Then why the hell you talking about yourself like that? That some kinda royal ‘we’ or something?” 

The cheetah huffed, his breath rising in a cloud. “No. Just a habit.”

The fox stared at him, his ears slowly flattening. “You’re a weird cat.”

Rivi turned away. “So I’m told.” He tugged his hat down, half-wishing he could just pull it over his face and hide inside it.

Just his luck, Rivi thought, to find himself stuck in line next to another unfriendly face. For at least the last few weeks, the whole world seemed full of them. That this one was vulpine was not lost on Rivi, either. Up until recently, he’d been traveling this frozen continent with a highly paid fox, an experienced porter hired by Rivi’s benefactors to help him navigate unfamiliar lands and customs. Everything had been going swimmingly and right on schedule, up until the morning the civil unrest started. The protests and riots and armed patrols were tricky enough to navigate even before the waves of brutal winter storms swept across the land. And let alone before that volcano erupted, somewhere in the distance.

In hindsight, Rivi thought, was it any wonder that morning he awoke to find himself abandoned? His guide had simply vanished. With everything going on in his homeland, Rivi couldn’t blame the white-furred fox for wanting to cut his journey short, and make his way back home before things grew even more difficult. What Rivi could blame the little traitor for was leaving his poor client alone and afraid in a strange land. Rivi had never gotten the sense that his porter liked him, but that was no excuse for leaving him to fend for himself, without so much as a goodbye.

“At least we didn’t get robbed, Rivi,” the cheetah said.

“Speak for yourself.” The gray fox behind him shook snow off his coat. “I been robbed, before.”

Rivi grimaced, glancing over his shoulder. “My apologies, but I wasn’t speaking to you.”

The fox snorted. “Then stop sayin’ we, weirdo.”

“It’s a bit late for that.” Rivi crossed his arms tightly, his tail tip twitching. “Since I’ve been doing it my whole life. You know, Fafren thought I was weird, too.” He looked back at the shorter fox. “He was never very friendly, either.”

“Wait.” The fox blinked, perking a single, rust-feared ear. “Are you actually talking to me now?”

“Yes!” Rivi threw his hands up. “Was that not obvious?”

The fox shook his head. “You ain’t real good at communicating’, are ya?”

Rivi winced, looking away. His ears would have drooped, had they been free. He swallowed, looking down at his feet. Snow was slowly accumulating on his fur-lined boots. “Not especially, no. Particularly with strangers. Or when I’m anxious.” He nudged the boardwork with his foot, pushing snow around. “Or when I’m anxious about trying to communicate with strangers.”  

The gray fox scratched at thick fur around his neck. If only for a moment, a hint of contrition crept into his voice. “Yeah, well, you got a long journey to try and get better at it.”

 A hint of a smile crept across Rivi’s muzzle. “So, I do.”

Rivi turned attention back to his eventual destination. The cheetah’s heartbeat spiked in fresh excitement. Anticipation swirled in cold spirals in his belly. In the distance, looming above the frozen streets was the greatest and most monumental airship Rivi had ever set eyes upon. Called The Worldstrider, it may as well have been a city unto itself. Long rows of porthole windows and enclosed balconies at least a dozen stories tall lined its long, silver-painted sides. Larger swaths of floor to ceiling glass lined its upper bridge, its promenades, restaurants, and other areas. Monolithic, crimson-hued smokestacks atop it, and along its sides at the back belched dark smoke into the swirling, low-hanging clouds. Massive propulsion turbines adorned it in multiple locations. If it had traditional gasbags, they were all internalized, like those of an armored warship. The whole incredible ship was done up in a beautiful livery of shining silver and deep red. The crimson hues ran along the top and bottom quarters of the ship, while the middle half was resplendently mercurial. The ship’s moniker was scrawled in elegant black script across the silver portions of the bow.

Rivi stared up at the gargantuan vessel, heedless of the dopey grin plastered across his muzzle. For at least a few moments, Rivi didn’t care if he looked like a tourist, or some backwater yokel setting eyes upon a flying ship for the first time. After all, while the felines of his homeland had plenty of airships, they had nothing like this. Rivi imagined he could fit every other airship he’d ever ridden on inside The Worldstrider all at once, and still had room for more passengers than he could count. And to think, he’d almost been on a different vessel. If Fafren hadn’t abandoned him, he’d have been here weeks earlier, and departed aboard The Bridgehead. Another fine vessel, he was sure, but it was half the size and twice the age of The Worldstrider. To the best of Rivi’s knowledge, The Worldstrider was by far the largest intercontinental airship in all the world. Rivi absolutely could not wait to be aboard, and not simply because he was freezing his-

“I’m freezing my damn nuts off here,” said the fox standing behind him, rubbing his arms.

Yes, Rivi thought, those. The cheetah was fairly certain his had vanished hours ago. Unfortunately, the only thing preventing Rivi from boarding the world’s largest airship and reconstituting his anatomy was the fact he was stuck standing in the world’s longest line. When Rivi first arrived to join the boarding party, dawn had not yet even broken across the bustling city-state of Tavosa. Even then, there were already hundreds of people trudging through the cascading snow to get a place in line beneath the blue-white glow of the electric streetlamps.

At first, city workers did everything they could to keep the snow from piling up. They dutifully shoveled off the boardwalks, sidewalks, walkways, and other walkable lanes. But as the crowds grew, and the snow continued to fall, there was less and less the workers could do to make a difference. Eventually, most of them gave up on dealing with the snow, and focused on directing the crowds.

Rivi wished a few more of them had kept shoveling snow. As helpful as it was to have knowledge people directing him on which line was which, he had an awful lot of luggage. Rivi thanked the Divine Weaver he had been able to purchase a sturdy, wheeled luggage wagon after Fafren abandoned him. As much as Rivi’s poor back and shoulders ached after a day spent pulling a heavily loaded cart by hand, the cheetah knew he’d otherwise never have been able to move all his luggage alone. Still, while the wagon was a boon, Rivi struggled to pull it through piles of snow and over icy, uneven boardwalks.

To make matters worse, the continuing slow-scale eruption of the distant Mount Narris meant there was an element of ash mixed into the clouds. There was just enough of it to give the snow a bitter, acrid taste and ever so slightly gritty texture. Rivi just wished it had warmed the damn snow a little, too. Then again, Rivi supposed that warm snow would simply be cold rain, and then he’d be even more miserable.

At least the snow helped muffle the cacophonous din of so many voices. Rivi was not especially comfortable all alone and surrounded by so many people. Until his travels, the cheetah had spent much of his admittedly short adult life in quieter places, wrapped up in his scholarly duties. In his free time, Rivi was as apt to stay in his quarters, reading or drawing as he was to go out and have a drink. Even in the smaller vessels he’d traveled upon to this point, he did not think he’d ever been surrounded by so many people. Thankfully, between the naturally silencing qualities of heavy snow, and the way his hat covered up his ears, the roar of the crowd had been reduced to an angry sort of whisper.

Rivi shielded his eyes and glanced up at the sky, wondering just how long he’d been in line. His aching feet told him he’d been there hours, at least. His rumbling belly and parched tongue agreed. The cheetah had eaten only a light snack for breakfast, along a single cup of coffee, and something generously called ‘juice’. Rivi couldn’t even tell what kind of fruit it was supposed to be from, let alone where they got fruit here, in the middle of the winter. He suspected it was something preserved and rehydrated. At least going hungry and thirsty meant he didn’t have risk trekking to the public latrines. Rivi could only imagine what sort of foul condition those must be in. Worse, he had a sneaking suspicion if he left his spot in line, he wouldn’t get it back.

“Hey, hold my spot, will ya?” The fox behind him slapped Rivi’s arm. “I gotta piss.”

The cheetah sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks, Cat.” The fox pointed to a single, battered suitcase in a faded orange and brown checker pattern. “Watch my shit, too. It better be here when I get back.”

“I’ll keep it safe for you,” Rivi said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. He could not help but wonder if the foul-mouth fox would extend him the same courtesy, should he be the one in desperate need of relief. “Be sure not to forget what section of the line you’re in! With all the snow, everyone’s clothing is starting blend together.”   

The fox hurried off, giving Rivi a dismissive wave. “I’ll just look for the cat hauling the mountain of bullshit!”

Rivi scrunched his muzzle. “My luggage is not…” He trailed off, lashing his tail. It wasn’t in Rivi’s nature to swear. “Nevermind.”

The cheetah brushed snow off his gloves, then reached into his coat. He retrieved an elegant, locket-style pocket watch. The front of its golden exterior was inlaid with pearl and silver, depicting stylized images of scrolls and books. On the back side was an etched likeness of his own smiling face. It was a gift from his parents, on the day he was officially accepted as a scholar and archivist by the Church of the Divine Weaving. On the inside, he kept a small silvery-gray photograph of his parents. The numbers of the clockface were inscribed into the metal, with the clock’s hands and gears kept beneath glass.

Rivi scowled when he saw it was already nearly noon. Though the line he was in had made steady progress, he still had a long way to go. Rivi looked towards the ship again. More people than he could count milled about in several long lines. Each line led towards a different security platform. Each platform in turn had its own set of workers checking tickets and luggage, then directing passengers onto boarding gangways. The gangways then led through the maze of docking scaffolds that crawled across The Worldstrider like the rickety skeletons of long dead serpents.

Rivi just hoped he was in the right line. The worker he asked for help didn’t entirely seem to understand his quandary. They’d looked at his paperwork, given him a very confused look, and eventually ushered Rivi to the line nearest the front of the ship. The cheetah hoped that meant something good. After all, Rivi’s original reservation was for a cabin aboard The Bridgehead, not The Worldstrider. Thanks to Fafren’s abandonment, he had missed his chance to board that ship entirely. Luckily, he was eventually able to make contact with the transit company’s local representatives. After he explained the situation, they assured Rivi that The Worldstrider would be able to accommodate him. However, they’d also made two things very clear. One, due to the advent of the stormy winter season, the eruption of Mount Narris, and the increasingly unstable civil climate, this would be the very last vessel departing to cross the Sundered Sea until at least the end of spring. Two, for those same reasons, the vessel was also going to be overbooked with all the people trying to leave while they still could.

Rivi scanned the other lines. Best he could tell, there were two primary boarding lines for those who already had passage booked. The remaining lines were filled with people still hoping to purchase their way aboard. Guards in dark green military coats, and with rifles slung across their shoulders patrolled those lines heavily. No one waiting in line even dared to meet the guards’ eyes. Rivi swallowed, wondering just how bad things had really gotten. Fafren hadn’t exactly been forth coming about the state of local affairs. And few of the other people he’d talked too seemed especially willing to discuss potentially dangerous matters with a foreign traveler, either. Whatever the case, Rivi had a sinking feeling that some of the people trying to flee were not going to make it onto the ship.

The people ahead of Rivi suddenly moved forward. Rivi looked around, but saw no sign of the fox. The cheetah growled under his breath, half-tempted to just kick the fox’s suitcase out of the way, and continue in line without him. Yet he knew he could never forgive himself for being so brazenly coldhearted, even to someone who was clearly taking advantage of his good nature. Rivi picked up the fox’s suitcase. It was heavy, surprisingly so. With a grunt, he hefted it up onto his luggage, piled high on the cart nearby.

Rivi pulled the wagon down the boardwalk for a little while, until the line stopped moving again. The cart kept sliding across the icy ground, forcing Rivi to put his shoulder into it to bring it to a stop. The effort left his shoulder throbbing. The cheetah winced, working his arm in a circle. He glanced towards the ship again. Rivi was not looking forward to dragging his luggage cart up the inclined gangway that led into the ship itself. Still, it would be well worth the discomfort to finally be on board. At this rate, Rivi imagined it would be all he could do to avoid just flopping into bed and sleeping for the next two days. But he did not want to miss the excitement of their unmooring and departure. 

The cycle of start and stop continued for at least another hour with no sign of the gray fox. At one point, a guard walking the line paused and stared at Rivi’s mountainous heap of belongings. Rivi’s belly lurched, and for a moment, his blood ran as cold as the snow swirling around him. What if that fox had tricked him? What if his suitcase was full of contraband? What if they were about to throw him in jail, for someone else’s crimes?

“Oh, Rivi,” he said, looking away from the guard. “We’ve done it now.”

“Check your bag, sir.” The guard, a dark-furred wolf, pointed towards the cart.

“M-my bag?” Rivi turned towards his luggage, struggling to act calm. He dared not think about what manner of vile illicit substances and weaponry that little fox must be smuggling. “Actually, that one is-”

“It’s about to fall off.” The wolf turned away and continued walking down the line.

Rivi blinked. The checker-patterned suitcase was wobbling in the winds, about to topple over. It threatened to bring several of Rivi’s bags down with it. The cheetah quickly grasped the suitcase, then resituated it. Once it was steady again, he glanced after the departing lupine guard.

“Th-thank you, sir!”

The wolf gave a half-hearted wave and continued on his way.

Rivi sighed, his shoulders slumping. “That was close, Rivi.” He rested a gloved hand against the top-most case. “Or was it?”

He glanced at the fox’s suitcase. It didn’t even have a lock. Rivi was half-tempted to open it up and see what was inside. If the fox had anything illegal, he could bring it to the guards attention. Then again, Rivi thought, he didn’t exactly know what was illegal, within the boundaries of the city-state. What was contraband in some lands was perfectly allowable in others. Unless the fox had a severed head in his suitcase, Rivi was unlikely to know the legal status of his belongings. Rivi blinked, fighting back a nervous whimper. What if the fox did have a severed head in his bag?

“Move up, cat.” A tall, female, white-furred bear in a crimson overcoat pointed forward, drawing Rivi’s attention back to the fact the line had moved again.

“Y-yes, thank you.” Rivi grasped his cart, and tugged it. The front wheels bumped against a hardened lump of icy snow, refusing to budge any further. He glanced back at the female bear. “I don’t suppose you could help push…” She only stared at him, and Rivi sighed. “No, nevermind.”

Rivi grit his teeth, putting his back into. Finally, the cart wheels bumped up over the hardened, packed snow. His luggage rattled, but nothing fell over or toppled out of the cart. The cheetah ignored his sore shoulders and aching back best he could, pulling the cart up the boardwalk until the queue stopped moving once again. Once again the cheetah had to put his shoulder against the wagon to slow its momentum before it rolled too far and inadvertently assaulted those in line ahead of him.

The fox remained absent as the boarding process continued its slow, stop-start grind. Anxious knots tied themselves in Rivi’s belly as he kept an eye out for his not-so-friendly queue companion. He hoped the little vulpine wasn’t trying to use him as some kind of mule for illicit substances. Or counterfeit money. Or stolen goods. Or illegal firearms. Or smuggled antiquities.

“Alright, Rivi,” the cheetah said, wiping freshly accumulated ice from his thin whispers. “We get the point.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

At least the bear who stood behind him now didn’t bother him about his embarrassing habits. Rivi wasn’t even sure when he’d started talking to himself that way. Or why he referred to himself as ‘we’ when he did so. As far as he could remember, he’d been doing it ever since he was a kitten. If he truly wished to psychoanalyze himself, Rivi assumed it probably had something to do with his relatively isolated youth.

His family was admittedly well-off, and had placed Rivi and his older sister into a very well respected religious school. As a student, Rivi’s marks were always excellent, even as he struggled socially. Communication was never his strong suit, and what few friends he had made were often those with shared interests in reading, and drawing. While he’d enjoyed the outdoors as a youth, he was more likely to sit in the shade under a tree, reading a some pulpy adventure novel than he was to kick a ball around with the others his age. In the end, at least his intellectual leanings had paid off. Between his scholastic successes, and his aptitude for the written word, he’d eventually been offered his scholar’s position with the church. It paid well, kept him busy, and eventually presented Rivi with a far more prestigious opportunity, that of the Scholar’s Pilgrimage.

In times long past, it was common for members of The Church of the Divine Weave to undertake a journey as far as they could muster, to see what the world was like beyond their homes. It was a rare chance to see how people lived beyond the rules and tenets of the Church. The luckiest of them might even glimpse one of the great Fractures, where once the gods had woven the shattered world back together. But such a journey was expensive, and arduous, especially for those who wished to journey further than the edges of their own continent. And even as the advent of airships had made intercontinental travel a more realistic proposition, events at home and abroad both had left Rivi’s beloved homeland increasingly isolated. Fewer and fewer of his people were able to undertake any such travels.

So, several generations ago, the Church instituted The Scholar’s Pilgrimage. One promising young scholar was chosen to travel the world, and document everything they witnessed. Upon their return, their findings were detailed in a great tome, filled with their writings and photographs and more. That tome was then published across the land, so that all those could not make the pilgrimage themselves could live vicariously through the Wandering Scholar.

Being asked to undertake the Scholar’s Pilgrimage was perhaps the biggest honor of Rivi’s life. It was also the most terrifying prospect he’d ever imagined, and the most exhilarating task he’d ever undertaken, all at once. Though the Church covered all costs, The Scholar’s Pilgrimage was meant to be a relatively lonely affair. Porters, guides, and travel were all arranged ahead of time, but that was it. There was no great convoy, no contingent of bodyguards, church officials, or even family members. The pilgrimage had to be a pure experience, undistilled by the warming familiarity of friends and loved ones. Anything more might taint the authenticity of the eventual travel chronicles.

The line moved again, and Rivi moved with it. By now, he was near enough to see the countless workers preparing the ship for departure. Teams of engineers with winter coats awkwardly pulled on over drab jumpsuits scrutinized turbines, exhaust vents, propellers and more. Dockworkers loaded everything from fuels and cargo pallets, to food and water, to supplies for the ship’s shopping areas. Flight staff scrambled around the docking scaffolds, assessing every inch of the ship’s outer hull. Supervisors shorted orders and signed off on long reams of documentation. Rivi could scarcely imagine the sheer magnitude of tasks that had to be completed before a vessel of such enormity was cleared for departure.

Actually, Rivi thought, he should probably document that. While the line was stalled, he turned to his luggage cart. One of his topmost cases contained some of his photography equipment. He fetched a key from his coat pocket, then quickly unlocked the case. Rivi popped it open, removed a smaller case, and closed it up again to protect the contents from the snow. The second case held a Black Sky 147, perhaps the most rugged and durable camera that Rivi had with him. It was the only one he dared take out in this weather. 

Rivi quickly unlatched the hardened case, and retrieved the camera. The Black Sky 147 was a boxy, metallic model, with leather accents and a fold-out lens. It shot on rolled film, and could take a number of pictures in succession. It was already loaded, as Rivi had taken a few images earlier in the day. Though Rivi did possess a few brand new, and expensive color-film devices, the Black Sky still took silvergraphs, so named for their silvery-gray hues. In return for pictures lacking color, though, the camera was so sturdy Rivi could drop it down a staircase, and it would still shoot just fine. Which was good, because that was exactly what Rivi did a few days earlier.

Rivi checked the camera over, ensured the film was properly loaded, and peered through the viewfinder. Given the curtains of wind-driven snow cascading across everything, Rivi knew these would not be the clearest photographs from his pilgrimage. But at least they’d be accurate to his experiences. The cheetah worked swiftly, taking several silvergraphs of the monstrous airship looming above snaking lines of people. Then he pivoted, and took a few more, trying to squeeze in the rest of the impossibly long queues that wound through the docking area, and into the brick-paved streets of Tavosa.

“Hey Cat.” The bear tapped his shoulder. “Get my good side, huh?”

Rivi blinked, glancing up at the taller female. “Um, yes ma’am.” He turned towards the bear, then carefully backed up a few steps, until he was able to fit her in frame. She turned sideways, shaking snow off coat. The contrast between her deep red overcoat and her snowy fur made Rivi wish he was taking color images. He decided not to tell her he wasn’t. He snapped a picture, and then offered her a little bow. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

The cheetah decided to make that do for additional photography. He didn’t want to risk pressing his luck exposing his cameras to the elements. He quickly packed away the Black Sky, and returned it to its place nestled amongst its brethren. His decision proved savvy, as only a few moments later the line moved forward again. Rivi lugged his cart further along the boardwalk.

When next they came to a stop, Rivi glanced back the way they’d come. The entire docking station plaza was filled with more people waiting to board than the entire population of Rivi’s hometown. Lines of hopeful passengers stretched as far as he could see, all the way beyond the plaza and back into the city itself. The heavy snows made it difficult to see very far beyond the squat, stone-wrought residential buildings that enclosed the nearby streets, but the cheetah imagined the lines extended much further than that. He scowled, wondering how many of those people were fleeing something? And how many of them would actually make it aboard? The cheetah brushed snow off his hat, sighing. His homeland was not without its faults, but at least they’d known stability of rule longer than most nations.

By the Rivi was nearing the security platform, the gray fox still hadn’t returned. Rivi decided to hand over the fox’s suitcase to the authorities. That was, if there was something illegal inside, they could take care of. And if there wasn’t, then they could hold onto it in case the fox finally showed up again. Rivi was certain that as long as he told the truth, no troubles would befall him.

While he waited his turn, Rivi watched the security workers. To his surprise, most of them were kobolds. Rivi stared at them, his tail tip flicking and swishing as if nearly as curious as he was. The lizard-like people were only half Rivi’s height, their scaled muzzles protruding from within fur-lined hoods. Back home, people without fur were quite rare. Hell, Rivi thought, back home, it was unusual to see anyone but other felines. Yet the world was filled with myriad disparate kinds of people, and Rivi found them all equally fascinating.

The kobolds, as far as he knew, were from far across the Sundered Seas. Originally, they hailed from the same distant continent the strangely flat-faced, furless humans did. In fact, the company that operated The Worldstrider was in large part human-owned. Rivi supposed it should be no surprise that they would employ a great number of the other peoples from their own far flung homeland. Gazing around, he also spotted several towering gnolls working as security officers, along with a horned minotaur. Each officer carried a number of firearms, along with additional ammunition, handcuffs, and what Rivi nervously guessed were some kind of explosive fragmentation devices. The cheetah wondered if the ship’s security was always so heavily armed, or if they were worried what would happen, should the gathered crowds be denied passage.

“Cheetah!” A sharp, stern voice called out. “Bring your luggage over here, cheetah, and present your boarding papers.”

Rivi snapped his attention towards the speak. A trio of kobold workers perched on stepladders awaited him behind a long, empty table. One of them waved him over, while the other two worked to keep the table free of snow. Rivi grabbed the handle of his cart, and hauled it up the short inclined ramp onto the security platform. Then he pulled it towards the table, going over his explanation in his head.

Greetings, Sirs and or Madams! Before I present my documents, I must inform you that a fellow passenger stowed his suitcase with me, and has yet to return. As I do know not his whereabouts, nor the contents of his belongings, I am hereby presenting them to you, to do with as you sit fit.

Yes, Rivi thought, that should do nicely.

As he pulled his luggage wagon up to the inspection table, Rivi cleared his throat. “Greetings, Sirs and-”

“Gotta search your bags, sir.” In a flash, one of the kobolds scrambled across the table and snatched up the fox’s suitcase. He dropped it onto the table, flipped open one of the latches, then paused to glance at Rivi. “Do I got permission to search it?”

Rivi blinked, staring in silence at the green-scaled worker. “Well, no, that’s actually-”

“I don’t have permission to search it?” The kobold glanced back at the other two. “He says no.”

The little lizard who’d waved him over, a female with bronze scales, leaned across the table, her hands pressed against its surface. “Sir, we gotta search your belongings. Company policy. Do we have your permission?”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Rivi said, quickly shaking his head. “No, wait…” He held his hands up. “I didn’t mean literally no, but it’s not mine, so…”

The three kobolds all looked at each other. The female cleared her throat with an especially suspicious sounding growl. “So, you’re denying permission to search it, but also, it’s not your bag?”

“That’s…well...” Rivi’s stomach dropped into his boots. His tongue went dry, and he struggled just to form words. “It isn’t, but if you want, you can look? But if there’s a bomb or something in it-”

“Bomb?” The third kobold, with bright red scales, leapt onto the table, hissing. “Step away from the bag immediately!” He jumped in place a few times, waving for the guards attention. “We got a problem here! Suspicious individual, possible bomb in his bag!”

A frightened murmur rolled through the nearby line. The bear who’d been standing behind him gasped, backing away, forcing others to do to the same. Workers at other tables turned around to stare at him. Others moved to keep the nearest queue orderly, and usher people further away. The armed guards all pivoted towards Rivi, some of them hurrying around tables towards him, whilst others blocked off the platform’s access points.

“No, no, no!” Rivi stumbled backwards, his heart hammering his sternum. “It’s not even my bag! A fox gave it to me!”

The green kobold carefully examined the beat up, orange and brown case. “A fox gave you the bomb?”

Rivi shook his head again. “Well, he gave me the bag, and then he left, and I haven’t seen him since and…and…” He swallowed, his belly lurching. “Oh, Rivi, that’s exactly what a bomber would do…”

Several tall, burly gnolls converged on Rivi from different angles. Each of them towered over him, glaring down with piercing eyes, their muzzles set into sharp-teethed snarls. One of them already had a pistol in his hand, another had unslung her rifle. The third’s hands were empty, but only until he grasped Rivi’s shoulder in an iron grip.

“This the suspicious individual?” The gnoll spun Rivi towards the kobolds.

“That’s him.” The green kobold slowly up from the table, pointing at the suitcase. “He said a fox gave him a bomb.”

“No, I didn’t!” Fear and exasperation stretched Rivi’s voice taut. His breath came in fevered pants, his tongue flicking against his teeth. “I was just trying to explain…”

The gnoll whirled him around so quickly it left Rivi’s arms flailing. Rivi had rarely seen gnolls in person, and he could scarcely imagine a more frightening introduction. All three of them easily outweighed him by at least double. They were taller even than wolves, with beige-brown fur mottled with black. None of them bothered to wear hats, despite the snow. A bristly ruff of black fur ran from roughly between their pointed ears, down the backs of their necks. Rivi was fairly certain the gnoll gripping his shoulder could have crushed his bones if he but made a fist.

“Who gave you the bomb?” The gnoll’s voice was calm, collected, and entirely too serious.

Rivi slowly lifted trembling hands. “A gray fox. He was behind me in line.” He took a quick breath, amending himself. “I never said it had a bomb, I said-”

“He definitely said bomb!” The red kobold folded his arms, his tail swishing where it protruded from his coat.

The green kobold nodded several times. “Yeah, I heard bomb too.”

“And he refused permission to search his bags.” The bronze one waved at Rivi’s luggage cart.

“I did not!” Rivi hissed, his frustration rising. “You never gave me a chance to explain!”

“Yeah, cause you said you had a damn bomb!” The green-scaled kobold glared at Rivi. “That kinda explains itself, don’t it cat?”

“I did not!” Rivi balled up his fists. “You misunderstood me!”

“Alright, cheetah.” The gnoll slowly relaxed his grip. “Explain.”

Rivi drew in a slow, shaking breath, hoping and praying that the Divine Weavers had sent him someone willing to listen to reason. “I was standing in line, and there was a gray fox behind me. He was there all morning. He said he had to visit the latrine, and asked me to watch his bag for him.” Rivi pointed to the suitcase. “That’s his bag. I have no idea what’s in it. I was just using the idea of a bomb as an admittedly bad example, which I immediately realized was a terrible idea. Especially considering the fox still hasn’t returned. So…” Rivi swallowed. “Please, search it, but be careful, just in case.”

The red kobold moved closer to the bag, holding his hand up to the others. “Better get the crowds moved back, first. Could be set to blow as soon as it opens.”

“Hold on.” The gnoll glanced between Rivi and the kobold, then back to Rivi again. “You said a gray fox gave you that bag? Describe him.”

Rivi wiped his muzzle. “He’s about this tall…” He held his hand out. “Gray fur on his face, rusty red ears. Black coat. No hat. Swears a lot.”

The gnolls exchanged glances. The one holding his shoulder released him, turning to his companions. “Sound familiar?”

“Very.” The female gnoll slung her rifle back over her shoulder. “Sounds like that little shit who got arrested for fighting in the latrine line.”

“Feisty little bastard, though.” The third gnoll slowly holstered his side arm. “Held his own against all those wolves.”

Rivi blinked, staring up at the taller guard. “He was arrested?”

The gnoll grunted, brushing snow out of his ruff. “Detained, more like. Probably just get a fine, then be allowed to board. Pretty sure the wolves started it, he just didn’t know when to quit.” He glanced at the female. “You get a description of his bag?”

She nodded. “Brown and orange, checker pattern.” She jerked her thumb at the suitcase. “I’d say that matches. Fox wanted it back.” The female gnoll walked towards the table, gesturing for the kobolds to return. “Examine it, Kallo.”

Kallo, the kobold with red scales, hoped up onto the table again. He crouched down, and slowly turned the bag around, analyzing it closely. He checked the hinges, then the latches. Kallo ran a finger around the seam. He even sniffed at it, his tail tip twitching in the snow. “So far, so not gonna kill us. No gunpowder scent, but there’s ways to hide that, not to mention other explosives-”

“Just open it.” The gnoll held an arm across Rivi’s chest, gently pushing him back.

The kobold glanced at his companions, then hesitantly undid the second latch. The other two lizards put their hands over their sides of their hooded heads, covering up their earholes. Rivi doubted it would do them much good to protect their hearing if a bomb exploded a short distance away. And yet, as Kallo slowly opened the case, Rivi found himself instinctively covering his own ears. Please don’t explode, Rivi thought, repeating the mantra in his head. Please don’t explode, please don’t explode, please don’t explode.

It didn’t explode. The hinges creaked, but it popped open easily enough. Kallo leaned forward, staring into it. His companions slowly uncovered their ears. Rivi did the same as Kallo dug through the suitcase’s contents. He lifted up a folded shirt, then sniffed at it. Kallo put it on the table, then pulled out a pair of dark brown trousers. The folded legs unraveled as the kobold held them aloft.

“It’s just clothes, and shit.” Kallo dropped the pants atop the shirt. “Toiletries bag.” The kobold opened it, peering inside. “Just regular stuff.”

“Oh, thank the Divines for that.” Rivi put his golden-gloved hands around his muzzle, breathing a long sigh. “We’re not getting arrested, Rivi. Or exploded.”

The gnoll waved at the fox’s belongings. “Get that packed up. And get a runner to take it over to the detention center. Get it back to that fox before they’re done with all his paperwork.” Then he clapped Rivi on the back, hard enough to leave him stumbling. “You’re free to board, cheetah. Sorry for the mix up.”

Rivi staggered a few paces before he caught his balance. “A-apology accepted.”

The gnoll leveled a smoldering glare at the kobolds. “You owe him one, too.”

Rivi glanced back at the gnoll, a thankful smile on his muzzle. “Oh, that’s alright, they’re just doing-”

“Little cat nearly pissed his trousers,” the gnoll said, jerking his thumb at Rivi. “Get the poor bastard boarded already.”

The cheetah’s smile faded slightly. “I wouldn’t go that far.” Rivi rubbed his arms, brushing aside freshly accumulated snow from his coat sleeves. “But yes, I’d ever so much like to be out of this cold.”

“Sorry we thought you had a bomb.” Kallo tossed the fox’s clothes back into his suitcase, then latched it shut.

Rivi managed a smile, approaching the table again. “That’s alright. I know you have a job to do.”

“Can’t be too careful with the rebellion, and all.” He passed the suitcase down to the bronze-scaled female, who hurried off with it.

The cheetah scowled. “Rebellion? Is it that bad?”

“Not to mention all those feline religious nut-jobs.” He snatched one of Rivi’s cases off the cargo cart, and tossed it onto the table with a clatter. “No offense.”

Rivi’s scowl deepened, his tail tip flicking. “Only mild offense taken.”

“Had one of those crazies threaten to blow us just a few days ago!” The little kobold snapped his jaws, then patted Rivi’s suitcase. “Do I got permission to look through your stuff?”

“You had…” Rivi sucked in a breath, his eyes widening. Suddenly, he didn’t so offended. “Someone actually threatened that?”

The gnoll guard cleared his throat with a loud, grating growl. “That ain’t the kinda thing you tell the public. Just get him boarded, got it?”

“Right, right, right.” Kallo opened up the suitcase, and quickly searched through some of Rivi’s clothing. He closed it and passed it along, then pulled another from the cart. “Do I have permission to search this bag, too?”

Rivi held his hands up. “You have permission to search all of my belongings.” He turned, watching the gnolls return to their patrol. The cheetah grit his teeth, wondering how much they weren’t telling the passengers. Rivi dusted snow off his hat, trying to keep from thinking too hard about what might happen if bombs exploded aboard a packed airship, high in the air. “Dare I ask if you get that sort of threat a lot?”

“Oh, yeah.” Kallo inspected Rivi’s photography gear. The kobold glanced into cases, and examined a few cameras. “All the time.” Rivi was pleased the lizard took pains to avoid exposing any delicate equipment to the elements for long. He sniffed a few things, then closed them back up and passed them along to the green scaled kobold. “Just been worse lately, with all the shit going on. And you never know with the felines from…” He trailed off, glancing up at Rivi. “Well, they ain’t all been as polite as you.” 

Rivi scrunched his muzzle, unsure how to take that. “I’m not entirely certain what you’re implying.”

“Boarding papers, sir?” The green kobold shot Kallo a glare that silenced him immediately.

“Oh, right.” Rivi opened the top buttons of his coat, then slipped a gloved hand into an inner pocket. He retrieved a small pouch containing his identification and travel documents. Rivi popped the latch, but then paused, glancing at the kobold. “I should first make you aware my original ticketed reservation was for The Bridgehead. However-”

“That ship left weeks ago.” The two remaining kobolds looked at each other.

“However,” Rivi said again, sharpening his voice. Despite his discomfort with confrontation, Rivi was starting to doubt the workers would listen to him without his becoming more insistent. “I also have a signed attestation from your local company representatives that assures me of passage on The Worldstrider, instead.”

The green scaled kobold shrugged. “Alright. Let me see it.”

Rivi fought to keep his hands from shaking as he retrieved his identification from within its safekeeping pouch. He also removed his official travel permits and allowance of free passage documents from his homeland, and the other nations he’d visited thus far. He passed those to the kobold, and then removed his ticket and reservation paperwork. Rivi held onto those to keep them from blowing away while the kobold reviewed his papers.

The kobold looked between Rivi and his documentation a few times. “River Mango Less?”

Rivi’s shoulders slumped, just a little, at the mispronunciation of his full name. “Rivimiralous, actually.”

The kobold blink. “Say again?”

The cheetah tried to speak his name more slowly. “Rivi…mira…lous.” He shifted his weight, tail flicking. “Rivi is what I go by.”

“Rivi, right, right.” The kobold flipped through his paperwork. “Do you all you cats gotta get permission from Cat Church before they let you leave?” He turned a small, blue and gold booklet over, then opened it and glanced through it. “Never seen an identity book like this, before. You must be pretty well connected, huh?”

The cheetah drew himself up straight, furrowing his brows. “I’m undertaking the Scholar’s Pilgrimage, so yes, I was granted special status.” He wiped snow from his spectacles, irritability starting to smolder inside him. “And please don’t call it, Cat Church. The Church of the Divine Weavers-”

“Rules over a country full of cats.” The kobold slapped his documentation down, producing a stamp from a hidden pocket. “Therefor, cat church.” The lizard stamped things in several places, then handed them back to Rivi. “Seen a few of these passes already, but none of them had an identity book as fancy as this.” The kobold waggled it, then handed it back to Rivi. “Tickets and attestation?”

Rivi sighed, deciding not to argue with the kobold. As frustrated as he was, he knew he’d only get himself in trouble. It had become increasingly clear throughout his travels that few outside his homeland really understood much about his homeland, let alone about The Church of the Divine Weavers. He gave an irritable hiss, handing over the requested information.

“Fine,” Rivi said, stuffing his documents back into their pouch. “I’m a cat from the cat church. Can I get on the damn ship now?”

The green-scaled kobold studied his ticket. He checked the name, the date, and then read over the attestation papers. Then he stamped it too, and handed it back to Rivi. “Of course.” He glanced over at Kalla. “We good?”

Kalla finished inspecting the cheetah’s belongings. He latched the last suitcase shut again, then tossed it back onto the cart. “Yeah, he’s clear.” Kalla swept his hand towards the ship. “Welcome aboard The Worldstrider, sir.”

“Oh, thank the Divines.” Rivi took a deep breath, then let out a long sigh. He grasped the handle of his cart, then paused, staring at the gangway that lead through the docking scaffold. While he was thankful to see little more in the way of a line, the boardwalk itself was long, and entirely uphill. He glanced between the inclined path and his cart, grimacing. “I don’t suppose there’s a porter available I could hire to take this up there, for me?”

The green-scaled kobold shook his head. “Afraid not. In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a refugee crisis. Most of our usual services are temporarily suspended, while the crew works elsewhere.”

Rivi sighed, handing his head. “Of course, they are.” The cheetah pulled his cart forward and up the incline, his aching arms screaming for mercy. “We didn’t need shoulders anyway, did we, Rivi? Look at it this way. At least we’re almost there.”