Alex exited the noodle shop and walked out into the busy streets of Zanhai, a city on the island of Lundao. He carried a wooden box under his arms that was warm to the touch, and he darted between the various people of the city as he made his way back toward the docks.
The shop owners had given him a strange look when asked for an order 'to go.' A few extra coins to buy bowls, spoons, and cups went a long way to getting what he wanted, and Alex might have started an entirely new business model for them if it caught on. Granted, food delivery and 'to go' orders had only recently caught on in the grand scheme of human history back on Earth. Erth and the nightsea were entirely different matters.
Once he made it through the crowds of people to the docks, he climbed the stairs of the high structures that serviced the various slipships that were moored in the sky. There were regular docks for ships that operated in the island's sphere below, but slipships were entirely different.
Largely crafted of wooden hulls, most with at least four lodestones, two on each side, slipships sailed through the sky as easily as a ship sailed through the water. The only real difference between them was that slipships were built to sail on the nightsea, the black space between islands that connected them all together. Light sails, made of a shimmering golden material, gave power to their lodestones and allowed the ships to sail across what would have been impossible back on Earth.
Alex quickly found the ship he was looking for and stepped on the small deck from the walkway. Erin's ship was a metal tube with four lodestones surrounded by metal protection on the outside. Smaller light sails lined the top and sides of the ship, and the front was more like the fighter jet's cockpit than what most slipships used. A small deck stretched over the back of the tube, and a single door led to the front of the ship where light cargo and the pilot's seat were.
Without a moment's hesitation, he opened the door to the ship's interior and stepped inside. Two people waited for him inside, a small table set up between them. Erin sat in the pilot's seat, leaning back on it and shaking her messy black hair at the other man in the room. She wore her usual green cloak over her black shirt and pants. She was pale, and only freckles across her exposed face marked her skin.
Sayed sat across from her on a crate, laughing at what was most likely one of his stories. He was as tall as his tales were and sported a thick, bushy black beard. He was taller than he had any right to be and came from a desert world before he came to Erth. He held one of his two curved blades and was polishing it with one hand as he laughed. While their last adventure on Cragg Hollow had not been kind to his clothes, he still had his leather chest piece over his normal clothes, an inconspicuous look compared to the white and blue robe Alex had first seen when they met on Glory Plateau.
Thump.
"Welcome back, brother," Sayed said, a broad smile stretching his face as he tried to stand but only managed to bump his head. "I just finished recounting the tale of Abed's first battle."
"I never know what to take seriously with you," Erin said, still shaking her head. "You expect me to believe that a whale fell from the sky?"
"Why would I lie?" Sayed asked, raising his eyebrow.
"To make a better story," Erin said, leaning forward on the table. "It's what you always do."
"Either way, food's here," Alex said.
Alex sat the box on the table and opened it. Steam rose from inside the box, and the scent of the boiled noodles and the spices in the broth filled the small space. Sayed lifted the bowls out and set them on the table while Erin made sure that everyone had an empty bowl and spoon. Alex moved the only other chair in the room over to his side and took a seat as they sat down to eat.
"May God bless this meal with his fire," Sayed whispered, closing his eyes with one fist in front of his face before he began to spoon some of the broth and noodles into his bowl.
They each took turns getting noodles and broth into their bowls and started eating. A few minutes of silence passed before Alex put down his spoon and got ready to continue their meeting. They had a job to get done, and the noodles were just fuel for the fire.
"Starting where we left off," Alex said. "We have the coordinates, but we need the ship. Death's Yard is too tough for your ship, Erin, so we'll need to get a better one. What did your people say?"
"There's one ship, a cruiser, that fits what we need that we might be able to get," Erin said before slurping down her noodles. "The ship is commanded by Captain Grayson and is called the Robin."
"That sounds good to me," Alex said. "The question is whether we can get it alone, or at least while the crew is away. What do the Military Police use it for?"
"Right now, it is being used to transport a prisoner to the Clink," Erin said, crossing her arms. "The good news is that they'll have to make a stopover here. They're doing message deliveries for the area. If we catch them while their guard is down, we might be able to take the ship. I wonder why they would dedicate one ship to one prisoner, though. We couldn't get any more information about that."
"We could attack it head-on. It would make for a grand story," Sayed said as he spooned in a second helping of the broth and noodles.
"I don't want to fight a captain if I don't have to," Alex said, shaking his head and leaning forward. "Is there anything else we should worry about?"
"We're so far out on the Fringes, and there isn't an outpost nearby, so the response shouldn't be quick. So long as we get out of here fast, they won't be able to catch back up to us for a while."
"And you paid out the dockmaster for enough time not to total this ship, right?" Alex asked.
"We're paid out for the month," Erin said, nodding.
"Alright, that makes this easy," Alex said. "This is going to be the plan."
----------------------------------------
"Another day, another delivery," Grayson said, puffing the Red Phoenix cigarette in his hand as he turned to walk down the length of his ship. "We'll deliver the mail, we'll deliver people, we'll deliver whatever you need."
Captain Richard Grayson stood on the prow of his ship, looking out over the railing as it flew above the city of Zanhai. If he could help it, they would have avoided docking here, but his men needed supplies, and one of the Military Police's duties was to deliver mail and messages for the Empyrean. Even if he had a dangerous prisoner to transport, most of the income of the Military Police was found in the basic services they offered to the Empyrean.
One of his men stopped and saluted next to him before going back to swabbing the deck. His uniform was crisp, as was to be expected, but it was a complete contrast to Grayson's own uniform. Grayson's black and red jacket was unbuttoned, revealing the white shirt beneath. His boots were unpolished, and he wore his hat askew on his head.
The Military Police were an all-encompassing organization. While they didn't rule over the Twelve Kingdoms, they provided services ranging from security and policing all the way to delivering the mail. The higher-ups made good money doing that, and so long as they kept the Scions happy, they did good business.
Some soldiers in their ranks bought into the propaganda. They thought they were soldiers serving a greater cause. They thought they served the Empyrean out of duty. Grayson knew what they really were: mercenaries to their core.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
"I want to retire," he mumbled as he stopped by the cabin door. "Lieutenant, stop drinking and wake up the crew. We're going into Zanhai, and we need to get ready to deliver that mail so we can be on our way."
"I'm up," a shadow beside the cabin grumbled and stood up.
Round as a ball and short, Lieutenant Cade stood on two squat legs and rubbed his bald head. Like Grayson, his uniform was a mess, but more because of the various food stains across it than anything else. Grayson shook his head. He might not respect his uniform, but he at least respected himself.
Rattle. Screech.
"Hop to it," Grayson said as he opened the cabin door and stepped inside.
"Yes, sir," Lieutenant Cade attempted a salute before Grayson stepped inside.
Thump.
"Private, report," Grayson said the moment the door closed.
"We're pulling into port now, sir," the private said as he stood at the ship's wheel.
The Robin, Grayson's ship, was a cruiser. The helm was at the front of the ship and built high enough to get a good view of the entire area at any given time. It had a metal hull, as most Military Police ships did, and it swooped back along the ship to the end. It had the customary four lodestones that lined the hull and a long deck in the back with two cannons mounted on both sides of the ship. Two small light sails in its rear gathered the necessary power to run the lodestones. There was storage space and living quarters for all the soldiers down below. Right now, the entirety of the storage space was dedicated to the few crates of mail to deliver and the one cage that held their prisoner.
"Are there any reports of grumblings from our cargo?" Grayson asked as he looked over the console surrounding the ship's wheel.
"He's still asking for a song, sir," the private said. "He keeps humming to the guards, but they're following orders and keeping back from him."
"Such a troublesome cargo." Grayson shook his head. "I'll go down there myself next and knock him around for a while."
"I think the boys downstairs would appreciate that, sir." The private laughed.
"Bring us in, and I'll handle that." Grayson patted the private on the shoulder as he walked to the stairs that led below decks.
His ship had ten men in total serving on it. Eight privates did most of the menial work. That left Lieutenant Cade and himself for everything else. It was a small crew, but it was enough to run the ship efficiently. In an emergency, Grayson could run the ship with as few as three people, but he was happy with what he had. The Robin had been his command for ten years, and it would be his last ship before he retired. That was why he wouldn't tolerate the disrespect his current cargo kept being.
He nodded at his two soldiers on duty as he walked down into the cargo bay, past the hammocks that were strung up for his soldiers to sleep on. A single cage dominated the shadows in the cargo bay, rising as tall as two men and wide enough to hold at least ten.
Right now, it only held one.
A dark-skinned man sat at the center of the cage, kneeling in dark blue robes with his hands held in chains in front of him. Two guards stood a safe distance away with spears in their hands. Grayson hadn't liked him since the man had been pushed off on his ship for transport to the Clink. He picked up a piece of metal tubing as he approached the cage and began to hit the bars as he walked around it.
Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.
The metal tube rang with each hit on the bars as Grayson walked beside the cage. He made sure to go slow, as he wanted the prisoner to hear every second of it. The guards across from the cage flinched with each hit, and Grayson reminded himself he needed to test their nerves as well.
"I heard you wanted music," Grayson said as the echo of the final hit shook through the room. "So, I personally came down and brought you some."
The man looked up at him with his dark eyes. It was an attempt to intimidate him, but Grayson was far too old to be intimidated. He hit the tube back and forth between the bars again, getting another round of raucous sound.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
"Your provocation is unnecessary," the man's deep voice rattled through Grayson's old bones. "I merely wanted to express how terribly boring this trip has been. If you allowed me to provide music or even to cook for your crew, then I would find this whole experience less tedious."
Grayson opened his mouth and cracked his jaw. Again, the man was infuriating to carry. If he had his way, he would just kill the man and dump his body out in the nightsea between the islands. However, orders were orders, and he needed to keep the prisoner under control.
"Do I need to remind you of your crimes?" Grayson asked. "No, don't tell me. Jean Baptiste, also known as 'the Reanimator.' You have carved a path of destruction and depravity across three islands. You poisoned the magistrate at Grasspoint, tortured the people of Windam with the spirits of their dead families, and scammed one of our food transports and diverted it to some random village on Dryport."
"That last one was charity." A white toothy smile preceded a chuckle. "Those people would have died without that food."
"It doesn't make you some kind of hero." Grayson crossed his arms, tapping the tube against his side as he looked over the man in the cage.
"Oh, I'm far from a hero." Jean sighed. "I only have one desire, and I will do what it takes to achieve it. If I can make life more interesting along the way, then what's the harm?"
"The harm is to the order of the Empyrean," Grayson spat out words that he didn't care that much about.
"The best way to live our lives is to do as we will." Jean shrugged his broad shoulders and raised his hands to point up with one bony finger.
Grayson had nearly forgotten. Instead of flesh, the man's fingers were bone white, lacking skin and muscle. The bony arms were manacled, but by all that was right in the world, they shouldn't work at all. From what Grayson had heard from the guards, the only part of the man in front of him that was truly a man was his head. Even his heart had been replaced by a purple crystal stone in his chest, though it wasn't visible because of his robes.
"And look at where that got you," Grayson said, tapping the cage bars. "A ride on my ship to the Clink. No one returns from the Clink, Jean. You'll be buried there, and you won't be able to mess things up topside again. Take it in stride and at least conduct yourself properly for the rest of this trip."
"Hah." Jean snorted.
With the manacles on the prisoner, Grayson had nothing to fear from his curse or any techniques he might conjure. However, even though he was chained, Baptiste, 'the Reanimator,' still sent a chill down his spine with just that sound.
"I wonder what a man must do to 'properly conduct himself.' Must he beg like a dog for scraps at the table? Must he address his superiors with deference? Must he bend his knee and put his face in the ground to prostrate himself?" Baptiste 'the Reanimator' shook his head. "A man conducts himself in alignment with his desires. I desire to live an interesting life as I pursue my goal. If that leads me to destruction, so be it."
Grayson stepped back, and the shadows seemed to stretch around the prisoner in the cage. He felt like his heart stopped beating in his chest. Even though he knew that Jean could do nothing to affect him, it was like his words stung at Grayson's very self.
"But the bones told me that I would have an interesting trip, so I must await what fate brings me." Jean smiled and shook his head, regaining his posture from before the conversation.
"Freak," Grayson whispered under his breath before he turned to the two guards. "Keep an eye on him, and don't give him any more meals for the next three days. We'll see how he likes his fate then."
He sluffed back toward the stairs and made his way onto the deck before the prisoner could affect his mood any further. He took out another Red Phoenix cigarette, walked onto the deck, and closed the door behind him. It shook in his hands as he lit it.
He took in a deep puff of the tobacco as he watched the ship finish docking into the port. His men were already securing the ropes to the wooden docks, and the ship's four lodestones hummed with a lower frequency as they came to a rest. They had docked on one of the higher docks at the port, and he could see the various lights of Zanhai below.
"Get Lieutenant Cade on resupply," Grayson barked the order to the nearest soldier as he walked toward the extending gangplank. "Don't leave the ship without at least three men to guard it. I'll be in my quarters if there's an emergency."
"Rail shot."
Zip. Ting.
Through his Path of Will, Grayson sensed the attack coming, and he held onto his hat while he spun to avoid the object as it zipped past him. He turned to face the docks and saw a brown-skinned man in a leather duster standing there, five coins floating in his hand.
"Who are you? Some kind of crazy wannabe?" Grayson demanded as he clenched his teeth.
"'Tin Man' Ortega," the man said, a smile flashing across his face. "I saw the ship and couldn't resist. You know, you and us outlaws are destined to fight anytime we cross paths."
The name scratched at the back of Grayson's head, but he was never one to search through the bounties. He would have to look through the posters after he put the brat down. Even if he was old, he was still a master of two paths.
"Lieutenant Cade, watch the ship," he said. "I'll take on this outlaw."
"Rail shotgun." Ortega thrust his hand out and threw a handful of coins into the air.
As one, they cut through the air in a wide arc, slapping across his men like bullets. A few of his men fell to the ground, clutching at their arms or legs, while others were able to dodge out of the way. Grayson dodged again without really thinking about it as he kept his eyes on the outlaw.
"Step."
The outlaw disappeared in a blur of movement, and Grayson took off after him. When his foot was on the docks, he sensed where the outlaw had gone again with his will. He pointed himself in that direction and began to run.
"Step." Grayson disappeared in a flurry of motion as he took off after the outlaw.