I omitted my debt when I told Rose and Azog about the free boat voyage I’d secured us. It was irrelevant. Originally the idea of a free voyage pleased both Azog and Rose, their enthusiasm evident in their constant high fiving and excitement to leave Yorle. For Rose, leaving Yorle, meant leaving a city that smelled like fish, for Azog leaving Yorle meant reuniting with his people. However, their excitement lessened when they entered the docks and saw Greg. There was something wrong with Greg, the boat. That started with its name.

“Greg? The boat's name is Greg?” Azog asked Captain Avory.

“Have a problem with that? Too much of a bigot to like eh name like Greg?” responded the Captain. She put her hands on her shoulders, and glared at Azog with the one eye that didn’t happen to be covered with an eye patch.

“Well, it's kinda brief. Doesn’t leave much hope for the journey, when I can’t trust a boat named somethin’ so lackluster, and, frankly, uncreative.” said Azog.

“It’s just the name of the boat. It doesn’t matter. We should be more concerned with those plugged leaks.” Rose said, as she pointed to a many boarded up holes. A hardened sticky substance was stuck between the nailed down board and the ship’s hull.

“Ah, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ve got more boards to plug ‘em holes when they show up. Anyways, if yer were wanting a nice new boat then yah shouldn’t have had that lady pick the second cheapest boat in all of the kingdom. The cheapest seaworthy ship, I might add.” bragged Captain Avory.

“Who was that lady? The one that bought us this death trap?” Rose asked me.

“An acquaintance. There’s no need to go into the specifics, let’s just enjoy the fact that we’ve got a passage to the Isles.” I pointed out.

I could tell Rose didn’t believe it, but when free passages were involved it was best not to ask questions you didn’t want to know the answer to. The boat built like Swiss cheese was enough to worry about.

“Whatever gets me the hell out of this city,” she grumbled as she stepped aboard Greg, the boat.

“Does the boat have a surname?” Azog asked, trying to find some peace of mind.

“ The previous owner called the ship Sinkerton before I renamed it. I would like to think that Sinkerton is the boat’s surname.”

Azog nodded, seemingly, more at ease. I wondered if this was some sort of superstition he had or if this was something more cultural. Whatever it was that had upset Azog was now seemingly absolved as he walked onto the vessel. Sinkerton was a name that I didn’t particularly care for. So I imagined the boat was just named Greg.

I moved George’s ear muffs and told him to walk onto the vessel. I followed him onto the ship and waited…

“I’m sorry, I was wondering when we were going to undock and get going. Time is of the essence” I said.

“Oh, we’re waiting for some of the other travelers coming on this journey. We’ve got three other kinds of folk coming aboard the vessel.” Responded Captain Avory.

I looked out over the deck. Numerous boxes and crates full of food, water, and numerous other miscellaneous items covered the top of the ship. I watched as Rose paced up and down the boat, squeezing through the tight spaces not covered in boxes. It was obvious, to me, that there wasn’t enough room for three more guests. Or at the very least, room to comfortably sail with three more guests.

“Are you sure, uh, Greg can handle three more people aboard?”

“You don’t trust, Greg?” Captain Avory asked, sounding somewhat upset.

It was as if I didn’t trust a person to her. I refrained from letting her know that Greg was a boat and didn’t have feelings. I thought better of it, as I remember how seriously Azog regarded the name of the boat and how upset he was to learn that the boat was named Greg. Sailors, I realized, weren't the most rational people. Rational people didn’t find joy sailing across the ocean with only the sight of endless blue water to keep them company.

“I’m more surprised at Greg’s prowess as a ship. I’m not an expert on ships, but to carry this much cargo and people is no small feat.”

“Greg can handle three more people.”

She pointed in the distance, at three people walking to the end of the dock. Their heads were shaved bald, and they wore what looked like bargain priests attire. They held satchels with pamphlets. Their smiles were unnatural as if held up by delusions of their god’s benevolence and the fact that they hadn’t seen the vessel yet.

I groaned.

“Don’t be like that. These travelers look like wonderfully optimistic people. You could learn a thing or two from their attitude.”

“My attitude?”

“Yes, you’ve been grimacing all morning. It’s a wonderful day. There’s no need to be so worried about life. We’re meaningless specks in an endless sea, so at the end of the day worrying doesn’t matter because our lives don’t.”

Stolen story; please report.

“Thanks for the reassuring words.”

“No problem.” said the Captain, sincerely.

Three monks wore three different necklaces. A keen eye would notice these three necklaces represented three gods. A keen eye that was slightly religious would realize these gods were the same three gods worshiped in Nosturdam. I recognized the symbol that represented the god of prime numbers.

By now, I decided it was in my best interest to move towards the front of the boat, away from the plank connecting the dock to the boat. I worried that a zombie wouldn’t be taken kindly by these monks. The Church’s disdain for Necromancy was wider spread than just Nosturdam.

My fears were alleviated when the boat backed away from the port, and the monks had not yet wandered down to the end of the ship. I knew that it was unlikely that I’d make it through the whole journey without speaking to them, but I could at the very least keep my talking to a minimum. Maybe they’d think I’m a mute.

I peaked my head over the ship and watched as the city of Yorle became a speck in the distance, before finally disappearing over the horizon. It was strange to see nothing but blue ocean. There wasn’t even mana out in the ocean; just blue water. I wondered what sort of magic the Captain used to navigate. I’d ask her eventually.

Eventually, I grew thirsty and made my way towards the back of the ship. The monks seated themselves next to Azog, while Rose chatted with Captain Avory. George hid below the deck, crouched where I told him to. Part of me felt guilty about keeping George down in the cramped dark ship hull, but the zombie didn’t seem to mind.

“Ah, you must be Arthur. Azog, here, was talking about how great of a person you are.”

“Oh, really? I’m sure he was exaggerating.”

“So you did or did not slay an evil giant lizard, fight your way through hordes of lawyers, and cultivated a garden of epic proportions to grow the finest of leafed plants. Like basil, or thyme.”

“I don’t think one pot by the window of an Inn counts as a garden.”

“Don’t be modest! You’re a hero. A man like you could do well under the umbrella of the Church. Think of it now, your thin arms forged into arms of a real man, your skin practically glowing with the holy light raining down from the heavens, gone are those nasty scars on your body of fighting beasts. Also, just between you and me, the maidens love a paladin.” said the monk as he leaned in to whisper that last sentence in my ear.

“Is this a sales pitch?” I asked. It was clear he was laying it on thick. They were nice words.

“What, yes! Even if I were obligated to tell you that I get a commission when sailing on open waters, what I said would still be true.”

“There are laws at sea? Who's here to enforce laws?”I asked.

“Merkfolk, I’m afraid. They’re not always around but sometimes they are, and when they shoot up from the depths of the ocean, you don’t want to be caught breaking their laws.”

“Fair enough.”

“So you’re up for an adventure! To slay the evil undead and bring glory to God of Truth and Strength!”

I shrugged.

“I’ll take that as a hesitant yes.” presumed the presumptive monk.

“Arpior, do not trick this mighty hero with your cheap words! He will surely fall for a life of what could have been: a life of wasted talent.”

“Oh, and what would the god of prime numbers provide, Quetzal?”

“He is the god of Justice! And… And… Also prime numbers. Anyway, I need a commission more than you do.” Quetzal pointed out.

“Hey, I’m more than a commission.” I responded, sounding hurt.

“That’s what everyone says! Be glad you're a commission. It’s an honor.” the monks cried out in unison.

“Don’t worry, Arthur. They stop pesterin’ you, if you give ‘em someone else to pester at.” Azog replied wisely.

“Wait, you ratted me out?”

“How else would they know of your heroic feats?”

“Yes, your heroic feats are most tantalizing.” Arprior admitted, as he rubbed his hands like a greedy man.

“Because they’re interesting?”

“Because they’re worth a lot of commission coins,” admitted Arprior.

“Should you be telling me all of this? It seems to me like you're making your case worse, with all this added information.”

“I tell the truth. It’s part of the gig, even if it hurts my recruiting efforts.”

“He omitted that you’d also have to take the vow of truth,” said Quetzal.

“Ugh. I hate telling the truth,” I said.

“Dammit! It's all true, though! Another one lost to the god of fortune, it seems.” Arprior spoke.

“Quetzal is a follower of the god of fortune?” I asked.

“No, you're not going to pick him. No one picks him.”

I looked around to see the third monk, laying on the floor. Gold rings covered his plump little fingers. He yawned.

“Just tell me when you’re ready. These chumps got nothing on luck,” said the third monk.

“Oh, Duncor. Surely, the fortieth recruit will not go with you. The law of numbers is on my side. Surely, luck will run out and the law of averages and common sense will take over” Quetzal retorted.

“We’ll see, Quetzal. Just like, I saw thirty nine recruits recruited by me. The god of fortune always gets the first pick. And the second. And the thirty-ninth pick.”

“They should’ve implemented the draft system. Would’ve brought equity to the Church.” muttered Arpior.

“Look. I’m not interested in devoting myself to the Church. Stop pestering me.” I said.

It went against every fiber of my very being. I was not going to whisked away to become a priest, or god forbid a paladin. If anything, it would be distasteful. I plugged my ears with my fingers to escape the constant chatting of the priests. I realized that this was going to be a dreadful journey without ear plugs.