∼ A Sea of Stars ∼

Chapter - 108

The one-horse-pulled wagon creaked along the streets in the dead of night. Watching the city life go from nicely-paved roads and lantern-lit streets to the darker side of Boreas, slums crawling about with desperate women and broken men, Eric and Crowley rode in silence. Through the Ivory Lanes, The City Square, Merchants Quarters, and all the way down to The Dregs.

Eric's palms couldn't help but go clammy in the cold night air, their destination and the purpose of this little ride still unknown. Had he done something wrong? Had Freya tricked him? Was Crowley just taking him for a joyride or something more sinister? Eric had to ask, anxiety getting the best of him.

"So... where are we going, sir?"

"You'll see, lad. Patience." Crowley said simply, leaving it at that.

But that, of course, did nothing to calm his nerves. Crowley clearly picked up on Eric's unease, sighing. "Although I do favor a brass fire of avidity within my men, I find those that have it in equal measures of patience are ones who will achieve something in life. Something to remember lad."

Eric nodded slowly, staring back out at the road as some of the tension left him. As menacing as the old crow was, there was just something about his words. The way the fearsome man spoke. Was it natural charisma? Confidence or authority? While he feared to admit it, Eric wished to learn more. Wished to learn how to do the things that Crowley did.

As they drew deeper into the Dregs, an alien stench became stronger, making Eric's nose curl. His confusion grew because this smell definitely wasn't that of the flea-ridden Dregs but something else. It was... fish...

Opening wide as the cramp ramshackle buildings on either side fell away to reveal a cloudless full-moon night, their wagon pulled out into the Docks.

Stretching out into the horizon was Lake Coldbite, a body of freshwater said to rival that of a small sea. It alone sustained Boreas and made fish one of the biggest exports of the entire city. The Docks were a massive conglomeration of harbors and warehouses. After all, if a man wasn't a miner in Boreas, he was a fisherman. Even in the dead of night, thousands of men worked their lives away, ill-equipped to combat the harsh cold bite of the winds. Nevertheless, they hauled crates and barrels full of fish, preparing them for either the market or storage with little more than a grunt or a grumble.

Eric had never seen anything like it. The scale of it all.

"We're here," Crowley said abruptly, stopping by a small wharf down on some overhanging wooden platforms that wobbled eerily on the water.

There were barely any men here and the high breakwaters hid the working men topside from view. And in turn, themselves. Eric felt uneasy once again, deeply confused as to what they were doing here. He couldn't help but replay that look Freya had given him before she disappeared into her carriage over and over again. "What does it all mean?"

"So tell me lad..." Crowly said, ruffling around under the wagon's cover as he jumped off the coach. Eric became tense, eyes on the older man's hands.

The moment stilling when he suddenly pulled out two rods.

"You up for some night fishing?"

Eric blinked, not quite comprehending.

"What, never been out night fishing before?" Crowley asked with mock shock.

But at Eric's apparent growing embarrassment, he turned almost appalled. "Wait - dinnae tell me ye've never been out fishing, at all?"

"Sorry. I've never had the opportunity."

"Ohhh - lad. I'll have ye whipped into a proper man in no time! Being able to catch and prepare their own food. This be something every young lad should know. Here, get herself changed. Ye willnae be comfortable in those garments."

He was thrown some brown hardened leather overalls and a pair of glossy boots smeared with grease which he awkwardly caught. Eric took a moment to understand what the abyss was going on. But seeing Crowley already getting into his own set of fishermen's overalls, Eric could only shrug and mirror the stocky man.

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"Oh, and grab that box o' hooks over there, we'll be needing them," Crowley said once he had finished getting everything on, far faster than Eric and showing that this wasn't just something Crowley did rarely. Pointing to a small and old rusty box in the corner of the wagon, Eric did as asked as soon as he had gotten the straps over his shoulder, following after Crowley who had already stomped his way down the old wharf.

He was surprised to find Crowley tending to a small old dinghy that had definitely seen its years.

"Hop in! I'll get the ropes."

Eric did as he said, hesitantly stepping into the swaying thing. It was difficult at first, never having been on a boat in his life, but he found his balance quick enough. Suddenly grabbing onto the sides of the small boat as Crowley jumped in, making it bounce and sway uncontrollably. Eric looked up at the older man in alarm who guffawed at his frightened expression.

"Bwah! Loosen up, lad! A little splash of water hasn't hurt nobody."

Eric found himself snorting, Crowley's laugh as infectious as ever.

"I'll try."

"That's what I wanna hear!" Then he threw him a paddle, Eric catching it deftly. "Remember this boy; it's all about harmony. Sweep with me and let yerself... simply... relax. The waters will do the rest."

Watching Crowley as he sat down beside him, he waited till the man began paddling. Finding the rhythm was easy enough, but matching his strength in each stroke was awkward at first. But before he knew it, they were far out on the water, rowing past other fishermen, sailors, and the like who didn't even bat an eye at their presence. Clothed as they were and with auras tucked in tight, these normal folk hadn't the faintest clue who was in their midsts.

Noting some of the boats and ships sailing in clumps and hanging out at certain spots, forming what appeared to be artificial islands on water, Eric got curious. "Who are they? What are they doing?"

"That's the Gorians," Crowley grumbled with a glance. "Better to steer well clear of them, son."

"That's one of the bigger gangs, isn't it?"

"Aye. Religious seadogs, the lot of them. All the way from the Caper Islands, they've come and infested these waters."

"You say they are religious. What gods do they worship?"

"The Sea."

"The Sea?"

Crowley nodded knowingly. "Yes, the Sea. The Abyss. The People of the Rocks call the sea itself; The Mother. Some of them believe it to be more than tradition and culture, devoted to this religion where they believe the sea is the mother of all life. From which we all originate."

"You mean to say that they think we all just at one point crawled out of the sea?" Eric asked incredulously.

He snorted. "Yup. If you were to ask me, those Caper Seadogs must've drank one too many sips of saltwater."

"So they're insane?

"Aye, nihilistic bastards, and that's why you'll be infinitely better off simply staying away."

"But are they really that dangerous?"

"On land, they may not have any power. But here, on the water. They are kings. No Heartlander can best a seadog on the waters. Not even the Lucians or the Iron people. Trying to weed out the pest that is the Gorians could prove a fatal folly, even for one such as meself."

Mildly shocked, Eric knew Crowley wasn't kidding around. Glancing at those floating islands, he felt a cold, abyssal shiver run down his spine. Stay well clear, he would. He needn't be warned twice.

Paddling once more, losing himself to the simple task of pulling back and forth, he found there was a sense of calm, gliding across the calm lake water as a light mist came off its cold surface. Under the night sky, the sea of stars was reflected by the boundless mirror on which they sailed. It was as if the sky had consumed the world.

Eric could only imagine from old stories told but was this what the Celestial Realm was like? Where the Heavenly Judges shone their virtue down upon the Enlightened?

"It's quite something, isn't it?" Crowley said but Eric barely heard him.

He merely joined Eric, staring up at the starry night with him.

"I've never seen anything like it," Eric said finally. "Is it always like this?"

"What, you now fancy the life of a Borean fisherman?" Crowley smirked.

A moment of silence. Eric looked down at his gloved hands, squeezing tight, into the hard balls he had used to fight many a man. "No... I don't believe I could." A hint of sadness was in his voice. "These hands... weren't made for fishing."

Crowley simply padded Eric on the back knowingly.

"We are much alike, son. As much as I wished I could be a simple man. That isnae something I'd ever be able to become. No matter how I refuse my true self."

Crowley met Eric's gaze. "It is only when we accept these things that we can truly be free. Free from the shackles of what others beg us to be."

There was a beat of silence as the old let the young take it in. But then Crowley switched to mood back, a smile coming back to his round face.

"Well, let's start. Shall we?"

Eric nodded slowly, sighing as he let go of his troubles. As Crowley dropped his paddle into the boat, he grabbed the fishing rods, holding out one to Eric.

"Come, let me teach ye how to be a real man."