Smoke hit Xerio’s face causing his eyes to water as Captain Reese turned to him, pipe hanging from his lips. “Welcome aboard the Primula.” The captain grunted. The deck had many barrels and crates across it and was clear of grime and whatever else might dirty a ship. Xerio guessed it had recently been cleaned. Captain Reese ran a tight ship. He expected to see some sort of defensive weaponry at the front of the cog, but to his surprise there was none. Rigging and ropes jostled overhead in the frigid wind and the mast was pulled up. The crew moving about the deck cast quick glances in their direction. They seemed a motley bunch and were predominantly shae with a xioran and safr mixed in. Xerio tried to keep a stone-cold face, but could not help feel out of his depth. A lean man, taller than the captain approached and whispered something to him. The captain dismissed him with a wave of the hand. “We do not have much time to get you acquainted with her and the crew. You sink or swim, boy.”
“I understand.” Xerio replied, his voice cracked causing him to wince. Reese looked him up and down, but Xerio was thankful he did not try to embarrass him with the slip up.
“Take those ship biscuits down to the galley. You will report to Mister Pot. Tell him you are his new charge and to train you to cook. When not cooking you will be on deck under my watch.” He sucked in a long draw of his pipe and exhaled. Xerio tilted his head to avoid the smoke.
Xerio grunted to clear his throat, he would not be the foolish boy a second time. “Yes, Captain.”
“Then off with you, Xerio.” Captain Reese lazily maneuvered up the stairs to the top deck where the ship’s wheel was, meeting with the man who had whispered to him.
Xerio guessed the galley was below deck and found the stairs leading into the belly of the trade cog. He did his best to bob and weave around the scowling sailors. It was his first day and he did not want any enemies so early. Reaching the stairs, he waited for a trio to come up. A big safr, the largest, Xerio had ever seen was last. The safr raised an eyebrow at Xerio whose mouth had fallen open. He had never seen a human so tall or skin so dark and it greatly intimidated him. The safr popped his hand under Xerio’s chin to close it as he leaned close. “Keep your mouth shut lest the flies fly in.” he said. Xerio could not tell if it was a threat or a joke and chose to remain silent until he passed.
Below deck was dark and damp lit with a few sparse lanterns. This must be the cargo hold. Crates were tagged with the words Property of the Orvick Trading Company and most likely had iron chunks within. He followed the narrow corridor to a door towards the front. Xerio glanced around at the barrels nearby, mostly provisions and other foodstuffs. This was the galley and Xerio pushed the door open with his back.
The galley had a pleasant aroma wafting in the air though most places would be better than the docks outside with the constant smell of bile and rotting fish. A stove was lit in the corner with a boiling copper pot on it. There were overhead cabinets for storage and a center counter which had a few large fish stacked upon it. Cast iron pots and skillets were held in rungs waiting to be used. Xerio’s eyes fell on the only man in the galley, the assumed Mister Pot.
Mister Pot was plump, but not as fat as Captain Reese. He had a long gray beard and shoulder length hair. A white rag was tied to his brow to keep the hair from his face. The most striking feature Xerio noticed was when he turned and hobbled over to the center counter revealing he had lost his right leg and it had been replaced with one of wood. “Mister Pot?” Xerio addressed.
The cook held up a finger to silence Xerio. Taking the knife, he deftly chopped up the first of the fish, and swiped it to the side. He grabbed another and readied himself. “What do you want?” Mister Pot asked in a gruff with age voice.
Xerio cleared his throat. “My name is Xerio. The captain says you will teach me to be a cook for the ship.”
Mister Pot hesitated a moment then cut up the second fish. Placing down the knife, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Bastard thinks I am getting old. I am not getting old, Reese!” He suddenly yelled and shook his fist upwards. Mister Pot regarded Xerio with scrutinizing eyes. “Scrawny thing, are you not? Skin and bone. What urchin has he brought to replace me? Bastards getting soft.” He waddled over, grabbed Xerio’s face, and turned his head left and right to examine him. Xerio did his best not to react and lash out. Keeping his emotions under control would be important as he could still be thrown off the ship back onto the docks. “Pointed ears and dark eyes. He brought me a winter elf.”
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“Hys, Mister Pot.” Xerio corrected.
“A hys?” Pot chuckled, letting go. “Even worse.” He went back to chopping fish at the counter. “Place the biscuits down on the table over there. Get a mortar and pestle and get to crushing it into a bowl. We are going to need it for the stew in a couple of days.”
Xerio put the crate down where he was told. His arms ached from carrying it for so long without relief and he stretched to loosen them. Scrounging through the various cabinets he found the tools he needed. Cracking open the crate, Xerio took a ship biscuit out. It was hard as a brick and he was fairly certain he could kill a man with it, should he have enough determination. Curiosity got the better of him and he bit down on the biscuit. His teeth could not penetrate the crust no matter how he gnawed on it. The experiment only served to cause his jaw pain. “How do you eat this stuff?” He whispered to himself.
“You crush it up and throw it in a stew to thicken it. Only the desperate go at a biscuit like that. Now take your mouth off of it and do your job.” Mister Pot said.
Working his hands, Xerio smacked the biscuit thrice with the pestle and saw little difference. He quickly realized how much effort this was going to take. By the time he finally crushed the first biscuit into a suitably coarse flour, the ship shifted and moved. “Looks like we are underway.” Mister Pot wiped his hands with a cloth. “Come boy, I want to watch the cast off.”
Xerio followed after the cook as he waddled out of the galley and to the main deck. The single sail was down at half-mast and the small crew were all at their stations pulling rigging and ropes as the trade cog drifted away from the dock. Mister Pot took in a deep breath then spat. “You will come to treasure these moments above deck.” Pot claimed as he placed his hands on the railing gazing at Felstrom. “I do not mind the galley, but I miss being up here.”
Xerio watched as the Primula drifted down the river and, as Felstrom grew smaller in the distance, a knot formed in his throat. This would be the longest journey he had ever gone on and he wrestled with himself if he had made a mistake. He did not know the captain or this cook he was given to. For all he knew he might be a slave now. Doubt made him wonder and worry if he would ever see his sister again. The thought made him ill. The captain had told him the river was safe compared to the Wailing Sea, but what did it really mean? Xerio thought Spellsburg was safe and now it was no more than a ruin. Was this the end of his life? To serve in a galley the rest of his days? He would just keep his head down for the time being. If things were unbearable, he could quietly disappear into a town and find other employment or make his way back to Felstrom, but in this moment, this was the best he had.
Pushing from the railing, satisfied with the city now out of direct view, Pot spun Xerio by the shoulder back around. “Alright, you have got a lot of work to do.” They made their way back to the galley and Pot spoke as they walked. “The boys are going to be hungry soon. We have fresh bread for them today and whatever is left tomorrow. Lunch will be in three or so hours. You will finish crushing those ship biscuits and then you will help serve the boys. After that is moping, cleaning plates, and preparing for dinner.” Pot suddenly wheeled around on him, pointing a fat finger at his nose. “And you will not touch the stove. Only I work the blasted thing. One lone ember and this whole ship goes down. You understand?” He snarled.
Xerio nodded. He spent the rest of the morning grinding down the brick-like ship biscuits. He pondered the possibility of using them as a building material, they were hard enough. He was certain not even the wild elements were powerful enough to erode these creations. The muscles of his hands tensed and tightly constricted with each strike. After every finished pile was dumped into the bowl, he would have to work his hands more and more to make the pain lessen and for flexibility to return.
Mister Pot dropped a plate beside Xerio. Boiled fish chunks and a sliver of bread. Picking up the bowl of coarse flour, Pot shook his head. “You are too slow. Pick up the pace, will you? Glad I did not make you start the day of or we would have a mutiny on our hands.”
“Mutiny?” Xerio questioned. The word had no meaning to him and he was confused on what it was.
“Do you know nothing, boy? A mutiny is when a crew rebels against the ones in charge. Mainly the captain and quartermaster. The quickest way for that to happen is no food. We have plenty, but at your rate they will think we have none! Eat your fish quickly then get back to work.”
Xerio looked at the meal provided. The bread looked normal, but the boiled fish did not appear nearly as appetizing. No fork was given so he had to eat it with his bare hands, getting the oil and smell all over them. The texture was soft and mushed in his mouth, he hated it immediately. He longed for his mother’s cooking and the delightful smells of the bread oven. He could remember the beans with spices, rye bread loaves, and eggs freshly laid that morning. Considering how well off his family was they even could afford some beef or a whole chicken from time to time. It was these thoughts which distracted him as he finished his meal and resumed his tasks.
After he crushed enough to fill the bowl, Xerio was ordered to clean the plates coming back from the crew. He scrubbed away at the metal and placed them on a rack to wait for dinner. More menial tasks were sent his way upon the completion of any job. There would be no time to rest today. It was a constant cycle of preparation, cooking, cleaning, and then repeating.
Night approached and Xerio was shown to the hammock he would sleep in. The snores and shifting of the ship kept him awake for a few extra hours as he fought to get comfortable. Even the weakness of his body could not coax him to sleep in such a strange environment. Never in his life had he slept in a room full of other men and the horrid smell of sweat and excrement by itself was enough to keep him awake. He spent the time reflecting on his choices. His life was shaken to its very core and he had been reduced to this. He wondered if he would ever find normalcy again. Reminding himself that Yimea was safe kept his spirit from breaking. Xerio prayed she had a better first day than he had on the ship.