There was an old wooden galley Luka remembered visiting once in secondary school. The point of the trip was to “learn” the history of the port he lived near, which just so happened to contain a half-sized replica of a trading vessel that once graced the docks. It was a relatively flat ship, one that sailed by wind and oar and carried lightweight wares—produce, wood, and animals.

Frankly, Luka remembered goofing off with his friends during the field trip. And yet, here he was, recreating it on an alien world because it stuck out in his mind.

Mayor Tram had sent a few villagers to the city with a—practically—unlimited budget to buy materials. At least an unlimited budget of the park’s proceeds. And yet, a few hundred gold pieces were far and away enough to build a single half-sized galley.

Hell, Luka thought, looking over the stacks of wood, metal, fabric, and leather, I can start on the façade of this area with all this. A pirate-themed area is as good a place to start as any—well, once I see the concept art for it.

“Why pirates, again?” Eve asked, studying a drawing of her aunt’s modified illusion glyph. “Don’t tell me Earth was pirate run.”

Luka raised an eyebrow. “’Pirate run?’”

“She means, did the pirates run the world?” Sol interpreted. “Did they overthrow the governments and reign over the seas!?”

Now, that got a smile out of him. “No, nothing like that. Pirates were more of a fantasy than real. Don’t get me wrong, they existed. But modern-day pirates were nothing like what I have in mind.”

Sol grunted.

Eve asked, “Are you sure you want to be associated with celebrating piracy?”

“I won’t be. World Walker Park will be a place of adventure. What’s better than an attraction promising an excitement-filled expedition across the swirling waves, deep into uncharted ocean, all in hopes of finding long-lost treasure?”

“You… you may have a point with that,” Eve said with a sigh.

“How is it a long-lost treasure if people know about it?” Sol asked. “Seems fake to me.”

Luka didn’t have a response for that if he was being honest. Nor did he care to truly think of one—not when he was so tired. It was a long day behind him and an even longer one in front of him, if he didn’t get some sleep soon, that was.

Does this world have energy drinks? He wondered, his mind falling back to prismpuff and jrum. Surely, they must, if they have hallucinogen smokes and coffee.

He sighed and, without further ado, built the galley.

The stacks of materials melded together, Luka’s magic taking effect. He gathered everything up in nearby piles, stripping them apart as needed. First was the foundation for the ride. With the experience of a few foundations already, a rectangle of reinforced stone was deeply embedded into the ground without much issue.

The ship had to be sturdy—far sturdier than the real one Luka modeled the attraction off. Real ships were held together by joinery, glue, and metal rivets. Besides the wood’s natural strength, very little kept the wood from breaking. The joints and seams would hold, but if a ship scraped a rock or reef, catastrophic damage could and often did occur.

Luka didn’t have that problem here. He had others. Pendulums swung with force. There was the weight of gravity and the tension force holding it in place—which equated to the metal arms attached to the ship and set into the ground.

The problem wouldn’t be making the ship strong, rather strength was needed at these stress points where the forces collided. But luckily, magic existed and reinforcement, strengthening, and hardening glyphs were readily available.

Sprouting from the foundation, Luka created four metal legs as wide as a barrel and as tall as an emberwood tree. They angled slightly in, coming to a gapped point, where he installed another metal beam. Connected to this beam, four metal arms dropped down and hung above the ground. The ship would eventually be connected to the arms and held in the air.

“So far, so good,” Luka told the two women beside him.

“I’d hope so,” Sol said, with a hint of attitude. “You’ve built four of these ‘foundations’ already. If you suddenly forgot how to, we’d be calling for the shaman.”

Eve gave her aunt a tired glare but conceded the point. “Yeah, or Goddess Tippy.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Luka heard Sol snort, but he was too busy looking for divine butterflies to respond.

He took a deep breath and continued working, checking his glyph notes as he went. With his magic, Luka didn’t need to use joinery or glue; instead, he could simply make the ship into a single piece.

The piles of wood molded with his touch, deforming into blobs before stretching out the length of sixty seated people. The edges bent up and formed a hull, one that could easily chop through the wave. The inside of the ship did not receive any design—there was no need, after all, it wasn’t a real ship.

Luka formed a rudder and attached it as other strands of magic worked on a figurehead that would capture Emberwood Village’s beauty. The orange wood twisted and deepened, hardening into a mangled root system of the very trees it represented. The roots stretched at their top, forming into a long bowsprit akin to an orc’s arm. And from their bottom, the roots grew into the ship as if the roots themselves were the very slats that made up the hull.

The whole thing was a single piece of wood but chiseled and stretched to look authentic. Luka imagined whipping off the excess grout on a tile to create the small gaps between the wooden slats. He mimicked the cut rings of the emberwood trees, he inserted fake rivets where they made sense, attaching them with little more than a flick of the wrist and a forethought of magic.

This is getting easier, he thought as the world felt wobbly. Though the headaches still suck.

“Something’s missing,” Eve said, watching the show.

“The sails,” Sol answered.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m working on it,” Luka muttered.

Mayor Tram had told her minions to “buy some of everything,” so Luka had plenty of types of fabrics to work with. All were thick—not quite the machine-woven type he remembered from Earth. Each was scratchy, handwoven by loom or magical loom… which was apparently a thing. All the fabric was nonmagical in nature as magical fabric was too expensive to warrant purchasing for such a use.

Luka did his best to match the colors, but unfortunately, the stacks of fabric were all different. Some were pale green, others more white cream. None were dyed, which only added to their cheap price. Regardless, three sails emerged stuck to the main mast and foremast.

Ropes would look nice, Luka thought, eyeing his material reserves. No ropes… unless…

With a bit of caution, he tore some fabric asunder, reducing it into thin, but long, threads. Then he started to weave. They didn’t need to look good, nor act functional, they just had to mimic braided and frayed rope.

Luka stifled a grunt, his head feeling like a blender. All the strands of magic he controlled wove ropes, hundreds of them, all at once. He closed his eyes, knowing the agony would be so, so worth it. That was a concept he’d learned long ago: details mattered. Whether it was adding artificial tree rings to a wooden hull or inspecting every drone to make sure the technicians applied the counterweights to the propellers correctly, details mattered. The ropes strung across the masts, sails, and to the figurehead.

The whole of the ship was then attached to the metal arms, which were magically fused together with enough reinforcement glyphs to protect a safe from a team of robbers.

“Moment of truth,” Luka said, ‘releasing’ the ship from his ‘hold.’ The weight of the ship pulled against the metal arms, legs, and foundation. And held.

“Nice!” Eve shouted.

“Good work, kid,” Sol said with a pat on his back.

“I’ve got a lot more to do,” Luka quietly muttered, plopping down on a chair he created from the pile of wood. He created two more for the others to sit as well. “But I need a few minutes of rest.”

“Well deserved rest.” Sol sat, holding out her hand and showing off a palm-sized ocean. Waves rolled against a white sand beach, gulls swam through the air, dark shadows in the water came and went.

Luka would have gawked if he wasn’t so tired. “That’s amazing. It’s like a mini world.”

Sol said, “I took a trip to the boundary isle of Sandcastle, once. Swam with the fish and ate some shark, the usual things bachelorette like me get up to. This illusion is my memory of the place.”

Ignoring the implications of whatever things ‘bachelorette’ Sol got up to, Luka focused on the other part of her statement that surprised him. “There’s an isle called ‘Sandcastle’ here?”

“Indeed. It used to have the largest sandcastle in the world before another was built in the Sea Queen’s Hoof.”

“Just how big is this sandcastle?”

“Oh, some sixty rooms or so. Rather small for castles, nowadays.”

Luka flinched at the statement. That was… not what he was expecting. “The entire thing was made out of sand?”

“And shells, yes,” Sol mused. “Here, let me show you.” In just a few minutes, she augmented her illusion to show her memory of walking into the Sandcastle Isle’s castle.

“That’s a lot of sand,” Luka said.

“Took a grand mage and six months to build it, I heard,” Eve added.

Sol crushed the miniature world in her palm, dispelling it. “Enough of that. We’ve got work to do. Get up, boy, it’s time to cast some real magic!”

“He was casting magic, Aunty.”

The old, perfectly smooth-skinned woman chuckled. “Building a ship is neat and all, but as our esteemed World Walker said earlier, it’s time to create an experience everyone will remember. That, Eve, is what true magic really is.”

Luka pushed himself to his feet. “We’ve got to name it first—and give it a paint job… and seats! We can’t forget to add the seats.”

“How about the ‘Walker,’” Eve suggested.

“Fitting,” Sol agreed.

“I like it.” Then, with a flare of magic, Luka chiseled the ship’s name into the stern.

“It’s going to be a long night,” Sol muttered with a sigh.