Dawn light streamed across the waterproof canvas of the Flounder's top tent. The wrongly named airship swayed bloatedly in the sky, its cloud sacks and ballast at equilibrium with the warming air of the morning. Grath groaned stiffly and pulled himself upright from his hammock, nearly toppling but expertly rebalancing himself at the last moment to land on his feet in a lazy crouch. He yawned and stalked out of the canvas tent into the ship's topside. His ever-present tether dragged reassuringly behind him. The Flounder resembled a narrow teardrop from the top, its dragging tail keeping its blunt face angled into the wind. In profile, the ship's main body resembled a sort of anvil shape, rounded at the top with an eel-like tail and hanging weights at the base of the anvil. Essentially, it was a lighter-than-air, fluff-filled sack with a tail and heavy stone weights to keep it upright in strong winds. The top of the ship only had a little flat space to allow Grath to maneuver from the helm to his tent. His tent was perched at the ship's prow above the Flounder's face. It was built into the frame of the ship from light pine wood and covered in waterproof canvas. The whole ship's frame and skin were constructed from light pine and cotton cloth. Grath surveyed the morning sky; he was drifting east, far from the eastern edge of Prattian territory. "A little further and I'll be out of patrolled skies," he noted. His mood was excited, but he controlled it. The lawless skies of the East were home to pirates and sky beasts. Piracy was common enough in areas where the kings' patrols were prevalent, but out here, no one would come to help if your ship's burning smoke trailed through the air. Sky beasts were also far more prevalent than in patrolled territories. Grath shook off the concern and set to work. The Flounder needed constant maintenance. He checked the four lift balloons strung in size order, largest to smallest, along the craft's meridian line. All wood release latches were accounted for. Next, he checked the main balloon envelope for any signs of damage. There were no tears, only some bird excrement... the flimsy cotton straps securing the envelope were holding, for now. No cloud wool had leaked in any noticeable capacity. A perusal of the folded canvas pectoral wings showed the ship's glide functions to be in good condition. He would double-check them from underneath later. Grath reached for the familiar fiber straps acting as a ladder at the ship's face. Climbing carefully down the Flounder's nose and keeping a watchful eye on his tether line to ensure it didn't tangle, he passed the mid-deck cabin, reaching the weighted keel jutting below the Flounder's belly. The light pine shaft that formed the front breastbone of the ship truncated at a heavy set of galena-filled sacks. The rock weights and their corresponding release lines were all intact. Finally, he returned to the mid-section cabin and inspected the weight release system. Everything looked good.

If he was lucky, this would be another lazy day. Grath watched the rolling foggy landscape below. Except for the occasional bird or gargantuan tree that breached the cursed fog, there was nothing notable. A few of the massive trees showed signs of docking, old anchor scars ugly against the otherwise soft bark. All the cloud cedars had their fluff sacks plucked clean for this season. Heading out in late fall was risky; it was hard to resupply on cloud wool when other ships had already pilfered any to spare. He looked up to scan the skies above. Grath had goals in mind that made the risk worthwhile. Elixir number... his mind passed mid-thought. Way up in the sky above, he spotted a star-shaped flower. It was large, perhaps the size of his tent. Its petals looked to be purple; he couldn't tell from this distance. But the unmistakable puffy look of the flower's petals and the bulb below them—along with the many connecting tendrils—told Grath it was a species of klienah flower. Not the elixir number he was looking for, but still a decent find. Klienah flower nectar is a potent stimulant. In the battle of Proud Plateau, the militia of the Vaultstop Republic fought for four days and nights without rest. Some died of exhaustion mid-flight, their bodies starved of food and water, but they had won the day thanks to that nectar: Elixir 5, later called Proud Potion by some. Grath didn't care to use the stuff, but selling it wouldn't bother him either. He quickly checked the Flounder's supplies and found a watertight skin and a few very thin glass jars. Every excess pound was precious on the Flounder. Thicker glass jars were too heavy. "Alright, I got the gear," Grath mused. He looked at the flower again, "Time to make some money." His hands shook with excitement as he strode to the Flounder's back. Step one: release the lowest weight level. He pulled hard on the appropriate release lever at the ship's spine. The corresponding series of wooden pulleys whirled into motion, and the clasp holding the smallest galena weight sack let go, unceremoniously tumbling the heavy stone bag into the foggy landscape below. The Flounder slowly began to gain altitude, its balloon of cloud wool bearing it higher into the air. Grath quickly released the Flounder's pectoral wings; the rough gray weathered canvas flapped lightly. There are two ways for the Flounder to glide rather than float, and both require a force and a counterforce. The first force is the nearly ever-present wind at this altitude. Generally, the Flounder floats on this wind, following its tail. But when weight is released, the Flounder stops being neutrally buoyant and begins to travel up. At this point, reverse gliding can be achieved by catching the wind force and deflecting it with the buoyant up force of the rising airship. Grath angled the pectoral fins using the series of guiding ropes built into them. The pine skeleton of each wing was pulled rigid against the slight draft of air the craft rose into. Slowly, the Flounder straightened out from a lazily wobbling float to only slightly less lazy glide upwards. Reverse gliding is quite slow unless you drop a whole lot more weight than Grath could afford to. He reached a good height above the floating flower and then nervously reached for the main balloon's drag-line release lever. It took a significant tug to activate the lever, one of the few safety mechanisms the Flounder possessed. CLACK WHIRRR. The main balloon leaped free of the Flounder's back, a thin line, barely noticeable by comparison to the balloon's bulk, unreeled after the main balloon. Trusteen caterpillar silk, one of the toughest threads available. The particular breed Grath had afforded was less reliable, but it was cheap and had held up so far. The Flounder dropped, the main balloon unreeling a little faster than the Flounder fell away from it. Now Grath's reverse glide switched rapidly to a regular glide. He switched the pectoral wings' position to catch the wind properly and floated like a fat leaf across the sky. Grath's drag line measured about one royal strand, the same measure standardized to most Prattian Empire ships. Only a few merchants used other units, like glide segment. Expertly, Grath wheeled the ship's tail rudder and wings, riding the wind and circling wide towards the klienah flower.

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