You can get a worthwhile measure of a man by listening to how he talks of his ambitions. Someone who loves the journey and isn’t just craving the destination makes a better acquaintance than one who has no love for the little moments.

-Quoted from Baron Valian Dourgate, founder of the Aughold Spirits & Ales Corporation

Felix didn’t flinch; he opened his mouth wide and caught the slice of raw onion. He crunched it and swallowed it without making a face.

Rose had only tried onion once before. They grew in the forests near home, but her mother wasn’t a fan and claimed the nutritional value wasn’t worth the cost.

“Can I try some?” she asked the burly chef, and he finally looked away from his cutting board to take stock of the new arrival.

The man ran a hand through his curly ginger beard. Rose hoped he kept it clean, given the proximity to fresh food.

“Our unexpected guest has made her way to my domain. As expected, the kitchens were the first place you thought to bring the girl, Felix. I don’t have an endless supply of food, you know. We have to inventory for every trip,” he said, shooting the youth a half hearted glare.

It seemed as though this was a running bit the two had, rather than a true point of contention. After the light scolding, the chef turned to her with a much brighter expression on his face.

“Of course, lass. I can make you anything you like, provided we have the ingredients. How about a fish curry. I’ll use onions and bloodfruit for the base, with some spices. You’ll love it, I’m sure. Though maybe take an apple first to settle the stomach. It’s not healthy to jump straight into a hearty meal. Grab a seat over there and wait a moment,” he said, a fervent passion building in his eyes and hands waving as he talked himself into making her a dish she hadn’t even been about to ask for. “Felix, get over here and make yourself useful. Finish chopping the onions, then prep the bloodfruits.”

Rose decided to sit and observe. There were a few barrels in the corner of the kitchen, which the chef had been gesturing to while he spoke. She guessed that was where he intended her to wait, but the man had already lost himself in measuring spices and gutting fish.

Rose wouldn’t want to distract him and risk the man cutting himself, though he had the air of a professional and she doubted that a simple interruption would nudge his blade that far off course.

She found herself wanting to draw while she observed the pair at work. Cooking was a form of art, she believed. And when you had as wide a range of ingredients as this chef did, despite being on board a ship, that was even more true.

It was a scene she felt worthy of immortalising in her sketchbook, but her backpack was at the foot of the bed in the cabin. A shame. Perhaps this would have been the necessary inspiration to push her drawing to level ten.

Instead, Rose contented herself to watch each masterful stroke of the blade, every measured pinch of spice, and the occasional taste, as the man turned a selection of fruit, veg and herbs into what he called a ‘curry’.

She was excited. Other than the odd import, her diet had just been potatoes and fish for the last fifteen years.

This was why she had left Fairwater Bay. Trying a new dish, one that wasn’t even known in her home country– that was an adventure.

It was everything she had expected, and more. It was shocking, and delightful. The way the spices blended and burst into flavour was extraordinary. Her taste buds tingled in ways Rose hadn’t known were possible.

And the heat… The curry burned. It should have been unpleasant, but Rose found it instead enhanced the meal. She was used to fish, but marinated in this incredible sauce? New dimensions of taste were being unlocked by the second.

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“You’re a magician, Leroy. I can’t think of another explanation,” she said.

“Well, I suppose reaching a certain level in any occupation can give the impression of the arcane at play. I appreciate the compliment. To me, happiness is seeing the joy on a person’s face when they take that first bite of something I’ve cooked. Nothing is more fulfilling. Travelling the world aboard this ship is just a way to discover new ways to share the love,” he replied, a beaming smile on his reddish face.

He ran a hand through his mop of curly ginger hair. It had been stuffed into a white chef’s hat while he cooked, but the man had unleashed it after the dish was complete.

Rose was stuffed. After devouring the first portion of fish curry she found her plate filled to the brim once more. Leroy was a generous chef.

“So, Emerlan Isle. I’ve heard of it. Minor nation, exports wood and milk as far as I can remember. Not surprised you left it behind for something a little more exciting. Most of us here are from Derridas, though we’ve picked up a couple strays over the past few years. Like Felix here.”

“Hey! I’m not a stray. Adoptee, maybe. Though I think I’m part of the family now. I certainly argue with the captain enough to make us family,” he said.

“Family? Part of the furniture maybe. You’re stiff as a board sometimes,” replied Leroy.

“You evil bastard. Alright Rose, I’ve had enough of this flame bearded git. Let’s go and see the captain. He’ll want to have a proper chat with you now that you’re awake.”

“Alright, I’m excited to meet him after seeing his ship and crew. Lead the way.”

As it turned out, the captain’s office was back at the top of the ship, tucked away from the rest of the crew. In fact, the room which Rose had slept in was his, offered up to her for the duration of her recovery. She hadn’t even met the man and already had a high opinion of him.

Though it was a small kindness, there hadn’t been a necessity for it. Small actions often moved the world more than grand ones.

Felix made their presence known, rapping with the ornate brass knocker three times in succession. The door was no simple thing. It was made of similar wood to the rest of the ship, medium dark and laid with a brass trim around the edges.

“Come in,” called an effeminate voice from behind the door.

They obliged and Rose marvelled at the interior as she entered. It was like someone had taken a magical library and squashed it into a ship. Not that she knew what a library looked like– there wasn’t one in Fairwater Bay.

She had pieced together a vague picture based on descriptions in the stories she had read over the years. Castell Saltbeard had discovered a magic library on one of his adventures. It was written in Brave Buccaneers and Awesome Admirals.

That one was one of her favourites. In part because it was less about conflict between pirates and governments and more about the general bravery of those who made a life at sea, but also because it contained her favourite Saltbeard adventure– sailing in the clouds.

Rose had read it perhaps fifty times. Maybe even sixty. Hard to keep track when you reached the number of re-reads she had.

The floor of the office was a darker wood. That tended to indicate a higher quality of material, which in this instance was likely true. A shaggy rug, cream coloured and thick, lay on the planks.

When she stepped onto it the material hugged her toes in a delicate embrace. She was glad she’d left her boots off when Felix had led her around the ship. The feeling of the rug came close to the taste of the curry.

Today was amazing. Too many new experiences and exciting sensations happening all at once. Rose was a little overwhelmed, to tell the truth. However, she wasn’t going to complain. That felt like it could lead to bad karmic debt.

Even if she wasn’t sure about the motivation of the gods, Rose believed the world tended to balance things out in its own way. So, she didn’t go asking for trouble when there wasn’t a need.

Along the right wall were three bookshelves, also made of dark brown wood like the floor. Every single shelf was packed full of books bound in different colours of leather, all inscribed with gold or silver lettering. It was more books in one place than Rose had seen in her entire life.

What in the world did one man need so many books for?

Even without knowing the answer to that particular question, she thought that one day she would like to have that many books.

“Do you like my collection? It has taken me a great many years, too much coin and far more effort than you might expect to gather these books. I often worry when we set sail that the risk of losing them all to the ocean is too terrifying a prospect, but I can’t bear to part with them for the months we are away. I’ve considered having copies made, but there isn’t the same sentimental value as holding the original. Old tomes have a certain scent. I’m Captain Bradshawe, by the way. And who might you be, mysterious girl?”