The elevator lurched, eliciting a pitiful whine from the young bard.

On instinct, he grabbed the railing tighter and continued to avoid looking directly over the edge, but it was impossible. Below him, at a staggering height of a few hundred feet, were the Hidden Docks, which served the purpose of being Tressa’s only access to the sea.

They were perhaps the city’s proudest achievement. As the name implied, the docks were concealed by a cove dug out of the cliffside. Thanks to the natural rocky walls, the docks gained a greater deal of security and were in a highly defendable position should the city ever get attacked by enemies out on the open sea.

Although the docks were considered part of Tressa, they operated separately from the city’s dominion. From what Holsley understood, they had their own guards, own rules, and even their own mayor, but they didn’t stray too far from the lingering ordinances of the government above.

Except for a set of roughly carved stone steps rapidly degrading with weather and time, the only way to get to the docks was by way of an elevator. This meant being suspended in mid-air for an uncomfortable amount of time while you were pulled towards the ground.

Another lurch. This time, Holsley let out a small mewl at the twist of his gut.

‘You’re really quite alright.’ The reassuring voice belonged to one of two gnomes who had embarked on the journey downward with him. With a flick of his spectacles, the spindly gnome approached Holsley and stood near him while his wife (Holsley assumed from the identical rings on the pair’s fingers) calmly flicked the page on a book she was reading. ‘It’s really a remarkable bit of natural engineering this elevator, and you shouldn’t feel worried about falling.’

‘Oh, it’s not the falling that worries me,’ replied Holsley. ‘It’s more what happens after.’

The gnome chuckled, but it wasn’t a chuckle at his attempted humour; it was a chuckle at his expense. He tapped the marble stonework of the box-shaped lift around them and gave it a few rubs. ‘This is andocarinite, otherwise known as feather stone. A mysterious geological phenomenon that has more to do with magic than with the formation of rock, creating boulders so light that, with the right tools, you could float them in the air like balloons. You see, it can—’

‘Don’t bore the poor boy with all that, Illin.’ The sharp tongue belonged to his wife, who didn’t look up from her reading. ‘He’s not interested in the mechanics of it all.’

She wasn’t lying, Holsley thought and silently thanked her.

‘Fear is but an emotional response for what we don’t understand,’ replied Illin, facing Holsley again. ‘If you knew the mechanics, my boy, you would know there’s nothing to be afraid of. For two hundred years, these elevators have been in service, and there have only been about twenty fatalities in all that time. Most of those occurred during the first five years of operation, mostly because people didn’t understand the concept.’

‘That really puts my mind at ease, thank you.’

‘The Tressans have utilised the stone by adding a special crystal on the top and bottom that stabilises the magic. Quite complicated, but the short end of it is that it allows the elevator to stay afloat. Then, they have gathered up two ropes, one connected to the top of the cliff and one to the bottom that, quite literally, allows them to pull the elevator up and down with the barest of effort.’

‘What would happen if those crystals broke?’ Holsley asked then, and for the life of him didn’t know why.

‘Oh, we would fall in an instant.’ Illin beamed like this was something to be proud of. ‘Worse, actually. We’d also start to spin, rotating endlessly until we were scattered on the floor below. Not to worry, my boy, for the rope that brings the elevator back up also serves as an additional safety measure to keep it from falling should the crystal fail.’

‘I’m very sorry about him.’ Illin’s wife stepped forward, and Holsley caught a quick glimpse of her book. The Wayfinder’s Wife, it was called. Not a book he had ever heard of before, but he suspected it might be a boring romance tale. ‘We’re on our way to see the mechanical ships at Shipwreck Isle, and he always gets a little talky before a journey.’

‘Calms the nerves,’ said Illin, fiddling with his glasses.

‘No, it’s fine,’ promised Holsley.

They talked a little longer after that, but only until the elevator came to rest on the ground, which, in total, took about six minutes of the young bard’s life. Holsley had the strangest feeling that he might see the married couple again as he watched them disappear into the crowds. The feeling didn’t last long as it was near-instantly replaced by awe at the overwhelming activity of the overcrowded docks.

People were yelling, shouting, bellowing, and screaming at one another. Crates were being thrown from ships while merchants in crude booths desperately tried to tempt visitors to inspect their wares.

In fairness to them, there was a lot to inspect. Stuff from up and down the Avanni Coast. Clothes, food, books, and all manner of trinkets — which all seemed exotic and otherworldly, brought over from a multitude of different cultures across the world.

It didn’t take long for the young bard to get swept up by the crowds.

On one side of him was the town part of the Hidden Docks; hundreds of wooden houses situated against the rocky wall of the cliffside with little separating them except for narrow alleyways. On the other side were the ships, more than he could count, moored along the multitude of complex platforms that made up the actual docks.

As a boy, Holsley had been to the docks twice. These memories returned to him as he elbowed frantically through the crowd.

The first had been with Roland to see the Golden Gallant. It was an enormous ship that looked more like a castle someone had thrown into the sea. Besides the impressive crenelated towers, Holsley most remembered the gargantuan golden lion figurehead. It belonged to the former kings and queens of the Further Kingdoms, and Holsley remembered keenly feeling insignificant next to it.

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It had been one of the delights of his childhood, however. That was the first time he’d ever seen the Knights of Aldor, and, through the crowd of onlookers, he had also caught sight of the future queen of Aldor who, if fate hadn’t been so strange, might’ve once been the queen of the Further Kingdoms — Amelia Graychurch the Third — a fussy five-year-old, who had locked eyes with him momentarily.

He had been with Dan the second time he had come to the docks.

Holsley pushed that memory back. He wasn’t ready or willing to revisit his memories of Dan. That’s not why he had returned to Tressa. Instead, he forced himself through the crowd and into a less packed lane that he could more easily saunter along. The young bard focussed his efforts on finding the Square-Jawed Dragon.

Roland had described it as a ship with a beaten hull, but every ship in the docks could be described this way. He’d ask for directions if he didn’t feel so sheepish doing it. As it stood, however, Holsley would have to make do walking up and down the docks, reading the names on the ships, until he came into contact with that particular vessel.

About ten minutes later, he found it.

Of course, the dragon figurehead had been the giveaway, mainly because the dragon was missing half of its jaw.

Not an inch of the ship wasn’t covered in either barnacles or some makeshift repair. The mast was leaning over, quite literally, and had to be supported by two beams of wood, and several bone harpoons were sticking out of its side. It didn’t look like it could sail out of the docks, let alone navigate the world’s oceans.

For a moment, Holsley hoped it was the wrong ship. It wasn’t. The name along the hull read Square-Jawed Dragon, except a few letters had faded over time, leaving it as S—-e–awed Drag–.

Sighing, Holsley stepped towards the gangplank of the Seawed Drag and didn’t know what to do next. He called up towards the deck. ‘Hello? Is there anyone aboard? I need to, uh, hire a ship?’

The face that appeared over the side next was about as far from human as you could get. It was longer, stretched out, lizard-like, and covered in red to purple scales. Through slitted eyes, remarkably like a snake’s, it curiously looked down at Holsley.

A dragonborn, the young bard realised. He’d never met a dragonborn before, though he’d certainly heard of them. You got them when brave humanoids had scintillating affairs with dragons.

‘Hop aboard, young one!’ The creature yelled down to him excitedly. ‘Entry is free, though the tour will cost you!’

Holsley ascended the wobbly gangplank. Upon staring into the waters below, he suddenly remembered that he couldn’t swim, so his body made careful, considered movements to compensate for the rise of fear. If he took a dip, chances were good that he wouldn’t come back up.

More of the dragonborn revealed itself to Holsley. Moth-eaten and patched clothes worn proud and loose over a bulky frame, like he didn’t have a care for how the world saw him. The long jacket and his tricorne hat were cracked black leather, and in his hand, he took unhealthy gulps of a large bottle of what Holsley guessed was red wine.

The dragonborn grinned from his seat on a nearby barrel and beckoned Holsley closer. It had taken him a moment to notice it, so dazzled as the young bard was to be in the presence of a new species, that there was an orange tabby lounging across the dragonborn’s shoulders. It purred contentedly, indifferent to the young bard’s presence.

The dragonborn cleared his throat. ‘Welcome, young one, to the Square—’ he took a break to burp into his hand and wave it away. ‘Sorry about that. The Square-Jawed Dragon. Jewel of the Crossing, and about the finest ship a man could ever hope to set sail on. I am its captain, the well-renowned Captain Krell Longshort.’

‘Uh, I’m Holsley,’ replied Holsley with a short wave. The dragonborn was drunk — he wasn’t very good with drunk people. They tended to throw punches when he got the lyrics wrong to their favourite songs. ‘Is it, uh, just you on board?’

Krell eyed him suspiciously. ‘For the moment. I’m between crews, ye see. Not to worry, it shall be rec…URP…tified soon. Now, what is it I can do for ye?’

‘I’ve been sent by Roland Darrow.’

‘Ssh!’ The dragonborn leapt towards him and shoved a finger across Holsley’s lips. It tasted terrible, like lacquered varnish. ‘Can’t have anyone around here hearing that name. Best we keep it out of the conversation now that I know it, ay?’

‘Sure, uh, my friend sent me.’

Krell stepped back. ‘Your friend is in a lot of trouble, ain’t he? Me and mine would be putting our lives on the line escorting him out of Tressa’s reach. It needs to be worth our while, young one.’

‘It will be,’ replied Holsley.

‘Good.’ Krell shifted himself back up on the barrel, carefully moving his tail so he didn’t sit on it. ‘How much do ye think a service like that is worth, and how much are ye willing to pay?’

Holsley didn’t know how to answer that question. He realised it would be hard to haggle a deal with the dragonborn when he didn’t know what Roland had to offer. Right now, it seemed like it was nothing. ‘Uh, enough to see your way and much, much more. You’ll have to trust we can deliver it on the day.’

‘Hmmm…’ Krell scratched at the scales on his chin. ‘He’s due to be hung in four days, ain’t he? I can leave on that day a little over noon or before if ye like. There are a few spaces aboard that even the most observant guard won’t find ye.’

‘That’s—’

Krell didn’t let him finish. Instead, he stood up and somehow manifested shadows across his face despite the bright autumn sun. He towered over the bard, who, in response, backed up a little. ‘I warn ye though, young one, if ye get aboard this ship with a wanted criminal on the day, ye had better make it worth my while. I’ll bet, without any uncertainty, that the city would pay a little more for him.’

‘Are you saying you’d turn him in?’

Holsley cringed. That was a stupid question; it was precisely what the dragonborn had just said.

‘Only if ye didn’t pay up something good. I’d rather do business with yous than a guard.’ Krell shrugged his shoulder. ‘I’m a smuggler, so it’s better for business. I can’t be seen cavorting with the tubheads too often. It’ll turn people off my services.’

The light reclaimed his face, and the dragonborn became jovial once again.

‘We’ll have something good,’ said Holsley. ‘I promise, just as long as you can wait.’

Krell sniffed. ‘I’ll need some assurances, of course. Enough to make the waiting worthwhile in the event that, ahem, he ends up succumbing to a serious case of hanged neck.’

Holsley had to think on that one. There was the bag of gold he was carrying, but he had wanted to use it for gambling later. Perhaps he could give up just a little of it to pay this shipmaster off.

‘How’s fifty crowns?’ That was half of what was in his purse. ‘Will that do it?’

‘Aye, ten regals will do it indeed,’ Krell roared. It made Holsley think that he may have offered too much. ‘Fifty crowns, and I’ll stay put.’

Reluctantly, Holsley counted the jingling coins from his pouch and handed them over to the dragonborn’s awaiting palm. Once he had counted fifty, Krell gave a low bow before forcing the currency into his jacket pocket. ‘We have a…URP…deal then! Shall we shake on it?’

A moment of hesitation stayed his hand. The young bard thought oddly that this must be how people feel when they make deals with a devil. This didn’t stop him from shaking it the moment after, however. It was a firm grip that felt like he was shaking hands with a used skillet. The dragonborn’s skin was like fire. When his digits were finally released, he shook them in the cold air.

‘Now, is there anything else I can do for ye, young one?’

‘Yeah.’ Holsley had been admiring the ship ever since he had been invited aboard, and it turns out there was something more he wanted from Krell.

Holsley pointed across the deck to a tired-looking dinghy seemingly held together by chewing gum and prayer. ‘How much would hiring that rowboat for the next couple of hours cost?’