A cherry pie sat in the window of Captain Sprin's home, steaming despite having sat on the ledge for hours. The smell of tart cherries and sweet yeast overwhelmed my senses. As my hand reached in to grab a precut slice, I paused, noticing an undulation running through the crust.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Peanut said, peeking from behind the corner.
"It's cut already. I'm sure your mother wouldn't mind," I replied, extending my hand for a slice.
As I reached for a slice, I noticed a wandering bug had beaten me to it. It resembled a fly but five times the size with twice as many wings. It turned in my direction to claim dominance over its next meal. But, before it could comfortably begin dining, the pie split down the middle grasping up toward the insect. The bug had tried to escape, but it was effortlessly swallowed whole by the carnivorous pastry.
Peanut laughed as my jaw dropped in disbelief.
"Why... Just why?"
"Mama says it helps keep the varmints in check, but to be really careful." Peanut said, walking me back towards our group in the back. "Old man Kirklin lost a finger 'cause he couldn't tell the difference between a real honey cake and a caric."
"Mersy, get over here," Berthold shouted from our work area.
Dozens of books and blueprints lined a massive table that Bert hunched over. Just past him, a wooden cradle rested a couple dozen meters from the shoreline.
"Nev should be back any second. Can you make these work?" He asked, gesturing to a massive pile of pilfered metal.
"I'm insulted you'd even ask," I replied.
The pile contained assorted metals stolen from throughout the city of Freesport. Chains, shears, blades, whatever our group's foul-mouthed gremlin could get her hands on. Most of the items were covered in a thin layer of rust, but that was nothing my abilities couldn't fix.
Effortlessly I broke the items down, removing the rust and reforming them into strips of metal stacked neatly by the side of the wooden cradle.
"Woah," Peanut and her younger brother said in unison.
Having a short amount of time to kill, I decided to provide some entertainment for the children. I reformed the strips to create a rabbit and a snake, the snake lunging toward the rabbit repeatedly. With each strike, the snake barely missed causing the children to gasp in panic. Finally, the rabbit turned its metal head away from the snake as the serpent prepared itself to strike.
"Look out!" Chip screamed, causing his sister to flinch.
As the metal snake lunged, the rabbit pulled out a cartoonishly large mallet, bonking the metallic puppet on its head, resulting in laughter from my audience. I was suddenly grateful for the weeks of boredom imposed while trapped in Dulcrois.
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"Those don't look like metal strips to me," Berthold shouted, looking up from the schematics and shipwright texts.
"Leave them alone. He was waiting for me," Nev called out, walking out of the tree line.
They dragged massive bundles of lumber behind them.
"Is this good enough to start?" Nev asked.
"It's a solid start," Bert said. "We'll definitely need more, though."
"I'll try to find more willing to donate," they replied.
"Donate?" I asked. "Does that mean you were able to speak with them?"
Nev shook their head in response. "Not like it was before. I just asked if they could donate, and they dropped what they could."
Bert walked to where the wood rested and began tracing long rectangular shapes into the dirt.
"If you can make them just as tall as they are wide," Bert requested.
Nev surrounded themselves with their verdant armor, then connected the salvaged branches, reforming them into wooden slabs matching the instructed dimensions. As they hoisted these slabs into the cradle, I reshaped my metallic puppets into their prior form, fastening them to the wooden planks in the areas Berthold directed.
"You guys are doing great!" Leif shouted out from close by.
Of all the jobs Berthold had assigned, Leif's had to be the most fitting. I constructed multiple glass jars with several holes bored into the bottom. All Leif had to do was smoke and exhale into the jars creating a resin Berthold assured us would seal the ship. Sometimes Leif would forget the second step, simply exhaling outside the glass instead. But it was an assumed side effect of his job, and he seemed happy with putting in extra work.
"Reika and Callin are coming in off a freighter in a day or so. I know they'll be willing to join us on our voyage, but we'll need at least one other," Captain Sprin said.
"No Lucky?" Nev asked, curving lumber to form another section of the hull.
"Afraid not. Lucky has passed on," Sprin replied.
"What?" Nev and I asked in unison.
It wasn't necessarily a surprise. The man had near-fatal accidents a plethora of times in the several-day window I was around him. Nevertheless, it was still disappointing to hear.
"Sprinkle Portly, you tell them what really happened," Mariel commanded, bringing over a water pitcher.
"Well, Lucky may or may not be a... Duke..."
"The man is dead. You really shouldn't be making jokes," Nev scolded.
"No, no, it's true. Before the snakemen took away my Thirsty Sow, a high falutin type sought him out, begging him to come back on account of his dead pa and incompetent brothers. We all had a good laugh at the time, except Lucky. He got serious, more serious than I've ever seen him before. Then he apologized and left with the stranger." Sprin confessed.
"Wow, good for Lucky," I commented.
"Bad for that region, though," Nev continued. "I mean if Lucky was the competent one."
It took us a little less than two weeks to finish Captain Sprin's new vessel, but with our combined efforts, the ship was seaworthy. The body was crafted from ethically sourced teak and sealed with cannabis tar resin. The hull bound together by reclaimed iron strips and nails, further enhanced by my specific skill set. Four interior cabins, a built-in kitchen, and a dining hall made the vessel ideal for hauling cargo or passengers. Having learned of the good Captain's affinity for smuggling, Berthold designed multiple hidden spaces in the cargo hold as well as secret passages leading through the ship to the dinghy strapped along the side. The sails crafted from a cotton blend and a small amount of self-repairing memory fabric I pilfered back in Dulcrois. It would take some time, but as long as a tiny piece of the cloth remained, it would reform its original size. When we revealed the finished vessel to the Captain, he couldn't help but purr aggressively as he hugged each of us.
"It's only missing one thing," Captain Sprin admitted. "The Thirsty Sow couldn't hold a candle to this, so she'll need a new name."
"We have that covered, Captain," Berthold said, pulling back a cloth covering part of the bow.
Etched into the wood and filled with iridescent gold, read the name Laughing Falcon.