As Nikolai made his way forth into the dinning hall, he’d cast a last wary gaze around the room, taking stock of those that had managed to beat him here and what was laid out before him. The room was fairly squat and uneven, the floor sloped ever so slightly betraying the curved backbone of some ancient sailing ship that had long outlived its usefulness upon the open seas. The overhead boards sat abut to one another in awkward and uneven patterns, mirroring the same design upon the floor below, a countless myriad of stains of spilled food and grease staining the boards beneath his feet.
Running across the squat room in neat and semi-orderly lines would be long tables, spread out evenly and surrounded by crudely fashioned bench seating. These rough hewn benches bore the crude workmanship of a novice tradesmen, their origin more than likely as recovered and recycled timbers from a vessels hull, the dull and all pervading scent of sea water and brine filled the hall, churning and mixing with the sickly sweet scent of stewing apples and the grainy scent of ground oats roiled from a elongated window that encompassed the opposite wall from the halls entrance. From within the tell-tale clatter of pans and dish work would betray the location of the Matron of the foundling hospital, the nanny that tended to the host of lost children was a stern caretaker and overseer of her charges. Nikolai would be given pause for but a few heartbeats as he strains his ears, knowing full well the matron kept to a rigid routine, the softer and fainter clatter and ringing of dishes meant she was still fully engrossed in the preparing for the rousing bell due to toll in but a few hours time.
Nikolai would give a wiry smile, so he had managed to get down early enough for him to go about his daily plan. His gaze would move now between the few figures that are far too busy trying to stomach the steaming gruel that the Matron had provided them. The closest to him, was a sibling pair. The two lithe framed figures were new arrivals and thusly would remain awkwardly hunched over their bowls, trying to fish out large mushy chunks of apples from the churning white sea of oats and milk that steamed before them. The pair were both brother and sister seated off to Nikolai’s left. They were an unremarkable sight, the older sister had a few knicks and cuts upon her, betraying the rough and tumble upbringing the pair had. Nikolai noted their angular facial features, willowy frames and sleek and elongated ear tips, betrayed them as the half-blood of elfin ancestry. The duo opted to remain and keep to themselves, the elder sister casting her gaze upward to meet Nikolai, a tight lipped scowl as he passes on by. He’d merely give a nervous casual wave, before locking his eyes forward once more making his way towards the bench nearest the window to the kitchen, and the towering cauldron of steaming oats and stewed apples.
As he’d pass the last row of bench seats, he’d cast his gaze down and aside to the only other figure within the room, a slight figure sat slouched over their food, bowl pressed flush to their face. The figure in question was mostly human, or more closely called a demi-human. The figure’s arms, instead of mirroring that of humanity, would come to an end with large feathered wings much akin to that of a large owl. Tall feathers sat interspersed with strains of dull brown hair. Their attire did not veil the blend of avian and human, that sat and gobbled down the stewed meal, taloned feet clicking and tapping a content rhythm. The harpy lad would pause his eating, long ears perking up, as he pulls his face from the bowl with a squelching noise. Leaving Nikolai to be greeted with an apprehensive stare from the young harpy as thick chunks of milky oats would drip in clumps from his human facial features, whom trilled worriedly and dragged their bowl closer to his chest with his wing’s edge.
Nikolai would merely slide a hands length away and pass the boy on-by, whom promptly resumed burrowing his head into his meal and resumed consuming such aggressively. With a slow draw of breath, he’d make his way forth till he arrived before the vast cauldron that sat nestled before the wide expanse of crude benches and tables. As he would draw up next to the iron pot, the thick and sickly sweet scent of stewing apples would roil forth in volumnous waves. He’d wince as the sharp bite of the heat would give him pause, before he works to ensnare the slowly sinking ladle that was bobbing among the roiling sea of oats before him. With a bowl in hand, he’d draw up two heavy ladles full of oatmeal and move to slink his way aside from the windows gaze, whilst still maintaining his distance from the other foundlings in the room.
Lucky, he mused as he cast a wary eye about the room remained just as empty as it was when he entered. For long had a trio of older fae-born boys from hospitals eastern wing seemingly had vowed to tormented him as he was the sole human within the foundling hospital. Their emenity, jabbing and physical mishandling of his person the catalyst of this clandestine effort to evade detection. Nikolai idly would draw up a spoonful of the churning gruel before him, moving to ladle it into his mouth, with surprisingly only a minor wince as the apples crunched a bit too eagerly within his mouth. He’d work his jaw as he leaned back, mind racing at what state the streets would be in when he finally managed to evade the watchful gaze of the Matron. For he knew full well that the city would be bustling and lively, as today was the day that the great hosts of ships of the venerable Port of Saint Ferina would be making their return journeys from their vast trade routes or expeditions far over the untamed sea with vast holds full of trade goods and treasures from the wider world abound.
Nikolai would swing his feet to and fro, freely on the bench as he wondered eagerly if several of his favorite Free-Companies had managed to return from their ventures and to what great riches they would bring. Whilst countless many vessels plodded the deep azure of the sea under the grand flags of the many great nation-states, none did so with the absolute authority and zeal as did the select few vessels bearing these ancient compacts, these ships and their stalwart crews authority was vested and maintained by some of the greatest powers within the nautical world of the day. These Free-Companies acted as the life-blood of the united world, sailing beyond the bounds of the marked map crossing boundary and border to exemplify the greatest attributes a sailor and ship can provide. Countless tales echo of noble ships and crew battling tyrants and cruel pirates that plagued the seas all around the world in their effort to maintain the peace that the world so long enjoyed.
Those ships and their Companies, were ruled as a nation unto themselves, their Captain’s their sole authority and representative whilst abroad and upon the shifting tides of the sea. To sail among the noble crews of one of these ships was of the highest and most daring order one could aspire, so thought and mused Nikolai as he day dreamed of a day so near that he may be able to stand upon the rigging of an ancient and potent Free-Company vessel, watching the Port of St. Ferina growing in a tiny dot of green in the distance. .The young lad sat idly in his daydream, the oatmeal he’d fished forth, slumping off his spoon with a wet spatter back into the pool from which it was drawn. However this quite recollection was cracked when his ears perked up, the groan of the wooden boards of the ceiling above him. He’d cast his gaze upward, then back to the food before him, shoveling it down as swiftly as he could. For he knew that such movement would only broadcast the slowly awakening trio that tormented him so, his choice of seating place himself square below the bed of one of the younger of their trio. He’d hastily devour his meal, much to the surprise of the other three foundlings in the room with him. The harpy boy giving a quiet click of his jaw in what he could only have interpreted as awe.
With his meal completed he’d rise up and make his way as briskly as he could towards the door nearest the window, the last threshold that barred his way to the wider street beyond. He’d move to briskly pass by at a rapid clip, his hand and empty bowl prepped in his grip to pass by. With a slight of hand, he’d soundlessly place the bowl atop the counter’s lip, and glide past it effortlessly, each step drawing a cold chill of dread at the center of his chest, waiting for the stern voice of the Matron to call out to him. However, no voice rings out to him, the sole noise he caught from the kitchen area, where the faint and soft sounds of small sibilant cries that had clearly drawn in the Matron’s focus, her form hidden behind towering mountains of dishes and plates and heavy steam that roiled from several thrumming pots above crackling flames.
With a sharp uptake in his pace, he’d slide his hand upon the rope handle of the door and push it aside, slipping outside into the dazzling and partly blinding light of the early morning day. The street laid before him was wide and intensely cluttered, as the evening and dusk working merchants and their goods made their way back from the dock district of the port-cities lower quarter. The vast throngs and tides of the crowd would push and jockey for position as they made their way to their places of work and away from such heading wearily back home. Nikolai would come to a halt down at the edge of the street, casting his gaze up and down it's length, noting that the long pathway lead squarely down to the docks of which there would the vast host of ships be making their arrivals. He’d take a few cautious steps, steel hand coming up to block out the suns rays as he moved to stand within the shade of some of the looming shop facades and dingy houses. The dull hues of cracked and faded plaster siding and clay fired roof tiles overhead would be marred by the blur of movement the crowd provided. Dozens of heavy carts trundled forth, drawing by towering equines that whinnied and stomped their hooves as their steel shoes causing a great commotion that added to the incessant din that filled the carriageway. Nikolai would spot one of the carts nearest to him, moving somewhat slower than the rest, the low-born elfin driver bringing the carriage to a slow and even pace as he tried to avoid the interweaving pedestrians that deemed to chance their luck, weaving and dodging carts to reach the other side of the carriageway.
Seeing this as his chance to clear more ground with neer a moment of work, Nikolai would wait till the carriage passed him, moving to jog alongside it's rear wheel and small ladder that were left uncovered and unmarred. After a few moments of gauging his distance and speed, he’d reach out with his steel hand and snag hold of the climbing ladder rung and would haul himself up and push his body flat against the groaning ladder, to ensure that he was firmly within the drivers blind spot. He’d cast his gaze around at the passing faces that dotted the carriage walk’s sidewalks, only a few of them paying him any mind, and most fortunately, none of the port’s guards were on patrol in this quarter at the hour. Inwardly he beamed, a small smile crossed his lips as he felt the carriage bounce and rock on the uneven cobble pavement beneath the trundling wheels as the cart and it's hanger-on would make their way down the dilapidated and aging city district’s streets.
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Ever on he passed by the cracked facades of the myriad of shops and homes that comprised the lower wards of St. Ferina, it was here that a vast majority of the new arrivals and those economically downtrodden would find themselves within. However, the streets remained cheery, a mirthful air billowing as merchants in their cart-stalls would call forth in loud voices, offering forth goods and services to those seeking, for inwardly they knew that with the return of the grand ships of the many free-companies that with them would flow a boon of sailors their coin pouches fat with their pay and starved of distractions after months on the open sea, along with the vast influx of raw resource and material that comes when some of the grand treasure galleons arrive from the distant sand drown isles of the western realm.
Nikolai would feel the cart bump sharply as the crooked and uneven cobble road would give way to intricate brickwork and neatly laid and pristinely kept carriage ways of the lower ward’s dockyard. He’d lean his way past the edge of the cart, risking the cart’s driver spotting him, to get a look over the wide harbor below. His heart would race excitedly as he spied dozens, no hundreds of vessels all bobbing and trundling neatly upon the placid and sky blue waters of Ferina’s harbor. Towering forms of vast squat treasure vessels, their intricate and sigil emblazoned sails unfurled and billowing in the sea-ward breeze would create vast splashes of color, from the warm hues of orange and yellows that composed Ferinian flagged vessels, to the bright silver and gold of the sleek and massive deep water trading sloops of the distant western lands of Saim’Kushan. Interspersed among the towering and hulking hulled vessels that comprised the deep-water trade ships, were fleet and nimble formed vessels, sleek hulled sloops that danced and wove between their larger and broader kin as they moved and where leevied into dock by dozen to hundred man teams, hauling the vessels about with vast cabled ropes.
Nikolai would release his grip from the ladder rung, and hop down at a moderate jog from the cart’s rear, the driver none the wiser. The lad would move eagerly to the heavy chain barrier that overlooked the harbor, eyes straining as his gaze moves from ship to ship. He’d bite his lip as he took stock of the ships that had come into port. He’d spy the sleek and elegantly built form of a Highborn elfin vessel, The Animus, the vessels stunning shape and woodworking the product of generations of the most highly talented ship-makers on the Highborn’s home isle of Yil’iaster. He’d watch and spy a dozens of forms darted hither and yonder, reefing the sails and making the ship ready to weight itself at port. Nikolai, beams excitedly for he had heard the tales of Captain Tal’Kovan and his singing blades as he’d dueled the Twin Viper pirates of the Miretides….
He shook his head, Focus! Focus! He’s got to be here! He said he was only making a short jaunt southward…. His gaze returns once more to the harbor below, taking in the sight of the sizeable warship that graced it's way across the ports further edge, the hulking mass of a heavy brig that sat low and deep in the water. The dull grey of her sails, provided a field for the bright scarlet rose to be emblazoned upon it. Nikolai’s eyes widen in awe, as the squat and battered brig was none other than the Brier Rose! A vessel famed for it's strange crew compositions and ports of call, her captain supposedly an animated doll, truly it was a strange time and day!
However as he continued his searching, he’d spy it, sitting far off alongside a trio of heavy frigates from the Ferinian navy. The elongated and elegant form of The Capricious Caravaner. Nikolai would tighten his grip upon the iron chain that provided the sole rail between him and the hills decent down to the harbor, for long had he followed the exploits of the Wayward Chronicler, for she was the first and foremost of the Great Companies that had set forth from the port of Ferina on expeditions far deep into the untamed fog shrouded southern seas, and lived to tell of tales from within! He’d watch as near a dozen sailors would clamber up her mainmast and begin to reef her sails back, the ragged and patchy sails would be ponderously drawn back. All the way up here, even the young lad could tell she had been through a proper scrap! Her hull was pockmarked and patched over with dozens of charred timbers betraying the crackle of combat. Her gunports were marred and coated with a thick layer of soot from her cannons discharge.
Nikolai would eagerly release his grip on the rail and move to race down along the carriageway, heading at full tilt sprint towards the lower docks as he spies the myriad of dock crews have already begun to haul the royal sloop into dock. He’d weave and dodge aside cart bearing merchants that were busily trying to work down the somewhat steep gradient of the hill, his form nimbly darting and weaving among the throngs of the crowds that had taken notice of the ship coming to this region of the harbor. The growing crowds would give cheers as they spy the fluttering batter of Ferina atop the Caravanner. Nikolai would manage to weave his way past the bulk of the growing tide of elfin forms, his elbows pushing out to nudge his way through a few times. He’d soon arrive at the head of the crowd, bumping into the chain rope that provided the barrier that divided the shipyard from the loading area in which the carriages and cargo wagons would be eagerly waiting to unload the vessel. Nikolai would skid to a halt, his boots skidding and kicking off rocks from the rise that he stood upon. He’d strain his vision, watching as the huddled masses of the weary sailors would move to disembark from the vessel, their gangplank lowered as the host of sell-swords, mercenaries and errant blades would make their way from the ship. Their mood whilst tired was boisterous, several of them waving to the crowds as they delved away from the ship, funneling towards the harborside taverns and eateries. Nikolai beamed happily, for he spied elfin and wyldborn forms walking side by side with the grizzled and hardened humans from the northern isles, merrily jesting and laughing as if they’d known one another their entire lives. The young lad’s grip tightened on the chain, as he feels his heart thunder in his chest, for so long had he dreamed of walking the gangway up to the deck of the ship and joining in hand with her crew. More than anything else, he wanted to become part of something greater… what could the seas offer him was a question that seemed so open ended and endless that it would stir the imagination.
However, before he could lose himself to his flights of fantasy, he’d spy a cohort of figures emerging from the ship, the last to depart. At the sight of the last contingent, moving to depart, Nikolai would hold up his clicking and whirring hand, waving excitedly as he tries to draw attention to himself whilst shouting over the crowd.
“Cap’n! Captain Bulgraff! O’er here! How was your voyage! Did ya find anythin’ exciting!”
The taller of the cohort would be given pause, Captain Bulgraff would have his attention drawn from his cartographer as he catches the voice calling to him. The entirely human captain was in the later part of his life, a thick pale silver beard clinging to his face, as he’d cast a grizzled look over the crowd. He’d notice the younger lad waving to him, and pause his progress forward, and turn to dismiss his bridge crew, whom would merely offer chuckles and friendly ribbings as Bulgraf would walk steadily over towards the rail in which Nikolai was calling from. The younger lads heart was aflutter as he watched Bulgraf move over to him, and stand before him, glancing up at the boy with a tired but friendly smile.
“Mhmm, glad to see your still gettin’ around boy... ‘ow’s the tin arm doing?” Bulgraff would gingerly motion to Nikolai’s arm, and nodding “... You been behavin’ yer’self like I told ya too?”
Nikolai would eagerly nod his head, his excitement causing his words to fumble and tumble over themselves “Y-Yessir! I-I did everythin’ you told me to! I-I have been makin’ sure to heed the Matron and her instruction…. W-well as best I can Sir!” Nikolai would be given pause, and glance over at his arm, and frown slightly, returning his gaze towards Bulgraff, “... I-It has sir, b-but my supply of arcane augites has run out… “
Bulgraff would work his jaw idly, pausing as he reached within his naval frock, from his inner pocket he’d remove a small sackcloth pouch and thumb it over. He’d cast a glance back up at Nikolai and give him a firm nod, tossing him the pouch “...Aye lad, ‘is should get you through the year, found a few of ‘em while down in Van Graff…” He’d cry a wry smile “...Don’t let those other slippery boys take em from ya this time…”
Nikolai would catch the small pouch, and hold it in his clasp as if he bore the crown jewels of the King of Legarde himself… He’d cast a glance back up to Bulgraff and nod, somewhat speechless as he felt no less than half a dozen of the stones. “I-I don.. I can’t Captain Bulgraff! These are yours... “ He’d pause and brighten as he spies a chance and leaps to take it “... A-At least let me pay ya back Cap’n! Oh, please sir! Let me join ya crew as ya cabin boy! Please Cap’n it's the least I can do!”
Bulgraff’s smile would slowly trim itself down to a tight lipped frown, he’d raise a gloved hand upward and place it against his temple, the dressing still fresh on his cheek. He’d glance to and fro, his dull steel eyes seeming to look for… something before he speaks up “Mhmm, ‘ow old are ya again lad? You know I ain’t really seekin’ fer a cabin boy, last one didn’t handle the Fog-Tides too well...”
Nikolai would feel his chest tighten as he was inquired, he’d shift worriedly and silently tightening his grip on the chain before him as he replies in a softer tone “A-Aye, I am in my fourteenth season Cap’n, b-but I can work ‘ard just like any of the other members of ya crew! I won’t even complain!”
Bulgraff shifts, casting his gaze up at Nikolai, there was compassion in his eyes almost akin a warning not to follow in this line of inquiry, however his words struck the young boy like a shot from a cannonade “Sorry lad, far too young still, ya still a young pup at the core of it… Eh, gotta wait a few years yet, why not get yer’self an apprenticeship tinkerin’ with the thingamajigs ya arm is made of? ….” He’d shift and hook a finger to the brim of his tricone and tip it in the direction of Nikolai “You go blaze ya own trail, and don’t get caught up like we salty dogs, and stay safe now, ya hear lad?” He’d cast Nikolai a wave before he’d wheel about and give a lingering look at the young lad before moving back to rejoin his bridge crew, the throng pushing back to rejoin the stream of crewmen that had filed from the vessel.
Nikolai would slump forward, resting his weight on the chain as he clutched the sackcloth pouch in his free hand. His gaze following following the sole human captain and his own idol as he moved off and merged into the distant blur of the common folk moving about upon the streets and interspersed among the crowd. He’d work his jaw, feeling suddenly tired despite the early hours of the morning, before he’d rise up shift his way through the crowd, heading off further down the carriage way, thumbing over bag in hand.
“That’s how it always is, ain’t it?....” He’d pause, as he feels the claws of melancholy and disappointment well within him, it was so easy to succumb to such despair, easier than most would imagine. However, he’d known full well that such an answer might have come, and Bullgraff’s words bear truth to them, Blaze your own trail. Nikolai would give a chuckle as he as he glances up at the carriageway ahead, feeling a bit of pep kick back up into his step, as he makes his headway now for the distant ship breaker-yard on the outer limits of the Port’s perimeter. “... Not yet, but someday…”