Finding a Ship to Leave Aboard

Alessari hadn’t known about this place. Not personally, in any case. This has been her first time away from Ressyta in earnest. She had not even learned of it from someone who’d traveled here. Her whole life, she made habit of befriending the less loyal members of the Kingdom that Rage’s forces that were flowing into and out of her home isle through Tiserrea. Talked with them, drank with them, learned about the world from them. The loyal forces to any of the houses, they give skewed perspectives of things, and generally had as limited a scope of knowledge as herself, though oft slightly different. The disloyal tended to be much more well traveled, or less well off. Either way, a very different perspective on the world from herself. Made them more interesting to the woman who’d rather spend her days in the trees than the courts in which she was required to stay. This particular cove was a secret of a good woman Alessari had known, depending on one’s definition of good. Selliarri had joined the army as a logistics expert. Before that, she’d been a logistics expert for a rather small organization of thieves. Then, one of the larger guilds cracked down on them and she fled to the safest place for criminals to hide: the front. One late night, after some long and intricate conversations, Selliarri had told the young noble about several smaller ports that her people found convenient and useful to sell things that it was best to not turn up near their home.

Entering the Cove of Smiles, Alessari nods. This is almost precisely what she expected from a hidden port for less than legitimate activities. An unnatural mixture, equal parts a small fishing village and a commercial district of a massive city. As Alessari and her large, well-armored companion approach the city, they are met by a late-middle aged gentleman. “Greetings, and welcome. It is always wonderful to meet new people. What brings you to our humble fishing village?”

“I am Sister Hilan of the Darian Order of the Cold Fist’s Bold Flame. I was led here by my good guide.”

The man turns to Alessari, “And you are?”

“Less trusting than my companion. An old friend of mine once told me about this place, that Caravans on occasion travel through here. As you can see, we might have some use of them.”

“You may well be in luck,” he says, “I’m Ilrassano, the mayor of this lovely town, and you seem a bit like trouble. Who told you that caravans came this way, so long ago?” He begins to grow uncomfortably close.

“My dear friend, Iarri once of the Miner’s Row Hellions,” Alessari said, putting pause before and an emphasis on friend. That way, if this town doesn’t like her much, he will assume one thing, and if it does, he should assume something else and back himself up.

“I see,” he says with a smile. He looks between Alessari and Hilan, then he takes a step back. “I do miss the Hellions, they were a reliable sort.”

“Iarri could certainly be counted on, in many ways,” Alessari said vaguely. “So are we in luck?”

“Right, the Caravan. Not quite, we aren’t expecting a new caravan for weeks. That said, there is a single sloop flying the flag v’Icria in port. Its owner is a rather… eccentric… fellow, but he may well take you wherever you’re going. He’s around town making some trades, though I don’t know where.”

Alessari looks to Hilan, so she takes over. “Many thanks, good ser. Your aid in this shall not be forgotten.”

“Nor will you,” Ilrassano says, with a look that makes Alessari somewhat uncomfortable. On the one hand, it was her intent to get him to back off. On the other hand, it still manages to be creepy enough to send a shiver down her spine.

She holds back the shiver as they leave. Once out of earshot, Hilan turns her head to her guide. “I don’t fully understand your hesitation to speak with the man about our goals. That said, was it just mine own upbringing, or was there not a discomforting aspect to the mayor’s gaze in the latter half of that conversation.”

“It was not just you. Let us simply say he has a vivid imagination, and leave it there. I may explain more when you get older.”

“I’m already older -”

Alessari interrupts her traveling companion. “Come now, we have an eccentric Sea Elf to find. Do you think we ought to scope out the stores he may visit, or simply wait by the docks.”

Hilan stops a moment, putting her previous thoughts out of mind as she contemplates the choice. “If we search the stores, we may find him swiftly, but we may well not find him before he does leave. If we hurry to the dock, we will certainly find the man, though it may well take quite a while.” She pauses, looking at Alessari. When the noble elf’s face gives her nothing, the armored human sighs. “I am blessed with patience, and certainty is better than chance. Assuming you mind not?”

Alessari smiles. “I am oft a hunter. Waiting is a way of life I was raised to embrace.” The smile is mostly for her own benefit. It’s at its heart a dig at nobility and their lives of inactivity that she finds hilarious, but it also works on the surface as a mere statement of fact for Hilan, who thinks her to be a hunter.

Hilan nods to the lady. “Then we are to the docks anon.” And the human heads for the masts that poke over the tops of the admittedly rather short buildings. Alessari instantly recognizes one of the flags as the emblem of the Caravan v’Icria. It’s a relatively small but very old caravan. The sort that the Kingdom that Rages as a whole would love, but with whom the House Tise’el itself had little interaction. She follows Hilan, though. Alessari suspects that Hilan doesn’t fully believe her story already. She isn’t sure exactly what gave her away, but she isn’t going to give any more information until they are both safely away from the Betrayers and en route to somewhere other than the Kingdom.

They enter an open area near the docks, Alessari spots a strangely dressed, young elfish man walking towards the docks himself. Nudging Hilan, Alessari points out the man with a nod of her head. “That young man is dressed oddly for this town, is he not?” she says, “I believe he may be the individual we’re seeking.”

Hilan looks at the man. Her eyes seem to furrow as her gaze deepens. Like she’s trying to see through him. Shaking her head after a moment, she sighs. “You may well be correct. He is, if nothing else, some other individual from elsewhere.”

Alessari lets Hilan lead them to the man. The man, who seems to be paying so little attention to the world about him that the pair nearly runs into him. Hilan does manage to get his attention before that happens. “Excuse me, good ser,” the armored one says, “I am Sister Hilan of the Darian Order of the Cold Fist’s Bold Flame. Would you be the owner of this fine vessel.” She gestures towards the ship flying the flag v’Icria. It seems Hilan, too, recognized the flag. Alessari is glad, otherwise she might need to be involved in the conversation and that helps no one.

The young elf smiles wide at them, though not in a way that makes Alessari feel odd. Everything else about him certainly is discomforting, but not his manner. Being near him reminds her of the times she ventured too close to the old battlefields during her wanderings of Ressyta. “Felazo v’Icria. And, that’s not exactly how we work,” he replies, “Why are you interested in the Ekzokia?”

“My good guide and I were hoping that you might be able to take us out into the world away from here.”

“Are you running from something,” Felazo asks. Something about the way he asks makes Alessari think he is more curious than worried.

Hilan shakes her head. “I am on a mission. I must find the answer to a question.”

“What’s the question? You can ask around if you wish, but suffice it to say, I know a lot of things. Got lots of answers in my head,” the strange elf replies.

Hilan gives a hearty chuckle before replying, “See, that might prove difficult. I need to find the question before I can find the answer. Hence, the mission.”

Felazo laughs at that. “I see. I have a lot of questions in my head, too? Do you want some of them?”

Alessari shakes her head as the pair begin walking towards the docks, chuckling. She follows. Hilan replies, “Mayhaps, though will you give us passage?”

“Sure, if you answer one of my questions. Come aboard.” Felazo hops fluidly onto his sloop. As Hilan is struggling to get aboard herself, Alessari flips aboard herself. Eventually, the armored and less agile woman gets aboard as well.

“So,” Hilan asks as she gathers herself, “What’s your question?”

Felazo, still smiling, leads the pair of women into the cabin. Once inside, he waves his hand and the door shuts. Not a good start to the conversation, Alessari thinks as her hand tightens around her bow. “The Bold Flame’s Darian Order, that aspect only an entity of the Pious Nation, correct? Sorry, that’s not my question, merely a statement of fact. So, what’s a missionary from the Pious Nation doing as travelling companion to a Great Noble of the Kingdom that Rages?”

“What do you mean?” Hilan asks. She is genuinely surprised, the elf woman notes. While the sister knew Alessari wasn’t quite who she said she was, Hilan didn’t know what she was exactly. Well, until now, Alessari supposes. She looks at Alessari.

Alessari merely stares down Felazo. Her grip continues to tighten. His smile does not fade. “That bow you are currently considering whether to draw, it has the symbol of the Great House Tise’el on it, does it not?” He waves his hand once more and a book floats from the wall, opens, and lays across the table he’s standing beside. “Again, not my question. I have a habit of making statements as questions, which only really matters in instances like this.” He gestures to the page. It’s in a section about the old Great Houses, the specific pages on Tise’el. Including several images of their emblemata over the years. “Anyways, the bow itself isn’t nice enough to have stolen, so it’s yours. Which does bring me back to my actual question.”

Alessari answers for the still a bit surprised Hilan. “I didn’t tell her. I was forced by a coup to run from Tiserrea, but I doubt the Betrayers will take kindly to the presence of the House Tise’el here, so I wish to travel elsewhere.”

Hilan picked up the story. “And, when she saved my life from a pack of wolves, she offered me help finding my own way further from the Pious Nation, to find my question. Then, I realized she was running from something, and I decided to provide what protection I could for her, until her flight was required no longer.”

After that hung in the air for a moment, Felazo clapped his hands. “Great. Well, we’ll be leaving in a few hours. I’ll put you to work on the labor. Don’t worry, don’t expect you to know how to sail, it’ll mostly be tying ropes and spotting and the like. I would say feel free to make yourself at home, but you probably should be careful. A solid half the stuff in here is magical, including some cursed stuff, so maybe take a beat before touching anything sparkly.” He starts to walk out, then stops at the door, “Oh, and the big, nice, fancy bed is mine. You ladies can have the older one or the hammocks. Ta ta.”

“Wait, that’s it?” Alessari asks the man.

“What do you mean?” he replies, “The ebbings will drive us back deeper into the alliance of Carossa if we leave now.”

“I mean, after the question, I assumed…” she trails off.

Felazo waves his hand. “Who isn’t somebody? By the by, do you have a name, my Lady?”

Alessari groans. “Alessari Ud Tise’el. And if you call me ‘My Lady’ again, I will castrate you with an arrow.”

“Your wish is my command,” Felazo sarcastically replies with a bow nearly as deep as his grin as he heads out to do whatever sailors do before leaving port.