The Ekzokia Arrives in the Peaceful Fishing Collective

“Alrighty, child of Tiserrea,” Felazo shouts, “We’re in one of the flows, now. Would you mind tightening the mainsail?” His small, unnatural non-monkey squeaks, though it does remain crouching on the strange man’s shoulder.

Alessari slides out from the oars and looks up at the boat’s owner. The strange man stands tall on the brow, watching the water intently. Perhaps, she muses, the understanding of the sea the caravan possesses is less universal and more circumstantial. That would explain the focus. Or the words have more meaning than they seem. Either way, Alessari finds it comforting to know the Sea that Once Was Not follows the one rule of nature she fully grasps: everything always changes. She slides across the deck to the hole where the ropes sagged through. Pulling them much tighter, she tied it off. “Done,” she replied with her own shout, before turning to find Felazo had already left his post at the front to turn the sails slightly, better catching the wind.

“Sister, could you head up to the wheel and keep a firm hold in the current position the flow has stabilized pointing. Today’s particular beast seems to have a decidedly unfortunate Heartward bend shortly before we arrive in port.”

Alessari sees her traveling companion, the strange human who claims to be on a mission to find a question to answer, get up and head towards the rear of the boat. “Felazo,” she asks, approaching the mage, “Is that going to be a problem?”

Felazo simply smiles and shrugs. “Eh, not really. Momentum and the wind should be adequate in countering such unpleasantness.” His monstrous monkey squeaks. “Mostly, at least,” he adds, “Flows can be fickle from time to time.” Then, without worrying about her reply, he walks swiftly back to the prow to watch water.

If the flow and the wind is handling it, Alessari figures she best be in a position to help if anything goes wrong. Gripping the mast, she begins to wrench herself up at great speed, only briefly touching each time the mast to launch herself further above the deck. It is not quite as easy or comfortable a climb as a tree, as the mast lacked branches to easily cling to and the boat constantly shifted under her, but she made do. Settling among the wires between two poles set into one another most comfortably like a large branch coming off from a tree’s trunk, Alessari looks out over the waters towards the coastline. On it, there seems to be a small cluster of structures. Nothing suspicious as of yet, but she knows that if she can see them this easily, whatever is there can likely see this boat easily as well. Which might pose trouble. She turns her gaze away from the port. They were close enough to a coastline now. Normal, non-Caravan trained sailors could be about. Could be out looking for easy prey. And while she knows that no one in their right minds among the Alliance of Carrosa and the Kingdom that Rages would attack a Caravan vessel, but around here the raiders are generally not state-sponsored. Which means there isn’t as much of a problem that can come from their attacking a Caravan. And yet, today, it seems remarkably clear. No sails or ships in either direction. Either they are lucky or something is going on in the United Cities of New Tolfirin and West Vyrroltea. And, she figures, given their luck thus far… She slides down the mast as quickly as she sprinted up, and heads forwards towards Felazo.

“What is it, Alessari?” he asks as she approaches.

The noblewoman looks around and sighs. “Maybe nothing, but the seas are empty. I’ve got a feeling in my gut. I think something’s wrong in the United Cities.”

Felazo looks around and furrows his brow, as though musing on something specific. “Perhaps. That would explain the Heartward twist. I need some additional supplies in any case, and have someone to speak with, but if you would like, we can anon to another land as soon as my business in the Community is finished.”

Alessari nods. “And, to be safe, could you not mention my house or home? If there is trouble, I don’t want to draw any eyes.”

“If you insist, Alessari. Though you may wish words with the good Sister, as I suspect her house will be the sort to draw more eyes around here than yours,” Felazo advises her wisely.

Alessari nods and, turning on her heel, she heads back to the wheel. To her traveling compatriot. “Sister Hilan,” she begins slowly.

“Yes, Alessari?”

The elf thinks, choosing her words carefully. “I suspect that there is some trouble going on in this land. Given history, until we know exactly what is going on, I personally think you should refrain from mentioning your title.”

The religious woman looks curiously at her guide and companion. “I am not sure that is wise. If I hide who I am, people will be less likely to tell us what is happening. And if they learn from someone else, they may well feel hurt and betrayed by our dishonesty.”

Alessari thinks on what the woman’s saying. She isn’t entirely wrong. The pious woman’s forthrightness and honesty is part of the reason the huntress had trusted her in the first place. But, she is not predisposed to dislike and distrust the Cold Fist. “What if you did not lie. Merely let Felazo introduce you. He seems to know the area, and knows what should and shouldn’t be spoken of to whomever we might meet.”

“Are you certain?” Sister Hilan asks.

“No,” Alessari replies diplomatically, “But I suspect like in the Cove of Smiles, unless you know someone who knows someone, you will always be met with distrust here. And Since Felazo is the one who knows people, I think it might be best if he also introduced us to people.” She hates this. Talking to people, gauging their reactions. Gauging which arguments are right and which will go nowhere. That’s part of the reason she hated court functions back in the day. People are so needlessly complicated.

“Very well,” the religious human replies, “But I will not lie about my beliefs if asked.”

Alessari forces an unconvincing smile, nods to the woman, and returns to Felazo. Making sure Hilan cannot see, Alessari then sighs. “Well, I got her to agree that you should deal with introducing everyone. Don’t screw it up.”

Felazo smiles widely at the noble elf. “Never,” he adds. The shore is approaching quickly, and the buildings that once were small now clearly stood before Alessari. Behind them, Hilan makes a straining noise. “The flow is turning, we’ll be in port soon enough.”

“Anything I should know?”

Felazo shrugs. “About the Peaceful Fishing Collective? It’s fantastically fun. All the locals will try to fleece and rob outsiders, and constantly attempt to backstab and undercut one another.”

Alessari shakes her head. He’s just described most small smuggling ports. And some normal ports. She needs to get a better feel for things. And, while he knows much, Felazo clearly does not feel entirely comfortable with sharing. The non-monkey squeaks some more, and Felazo laughs heartily. They were less than a mile off shore. “Will you need me to dock?” the hunter asks the researcher.

“Hilan, myself, and of course Kalzia should be sufficient. Have fun swimming,” he replies, seeming to know exactly what Alessari is thinking. She smirks, stretches, and dives into the water. She needs to know what’s going on, get the lay of the land. If she’s with the boat as it comes into port, she’ll only learn what the town wants her to see. Which means coming from a different angle. Everyone in town focused on the Caravan boat coming into dock, she should be able to slip in relatively unnoticed entering from the shore in the outskirts of town.

The swim itself is not particularly easy, but she makes it to shore. Sliding between bushes and walls, Alessari melds with the town. She slides through the shadows, watches the movements of the people, and listens to what they say. And what they do not say. All most people are talking about is the fact that the caravan ship has arrived. And yet, there is something more. Walking through town, talking about it, is a pair of men. One frighteningly large and well armored, the other some sort of musician. Given where they are, she would guess a thief and his bodyguard, though she can’t be sure. The pair doesn’t seem to be local, given how the locals react to their approach. More interestingly, she also notices that she isn’t the only person watching the pair. It’s subtle but present. Or, some of it is subtle. There is a guy who, like her, is simply slinking about in the shadows of the houses. But there’s also another group. Locals, Alessari would bet, who seem to be always watching. Walking routes just slightly too close to the pair. Laundering clothes paying far too much attention to their conversation. The same person doing different normal tasks in multiple suspect locales near the pair’s path. The little things add up to say this place is definitely spying on them in many ways. Could spell more trouble, she muses as she heads through the alleys and side streets towards the docks, hoping neither the lurker nor the team of spies notices her. Slipping into the water outside the docks she holds her breath and swims underwater to the keel of the boat. Making her way to its rear, she climbs up the side of the boat and slides aboard. Then she crawls across the deck to the trapdoor and opens it. Standing tall and closing the door loudly, she walks across the deck, onto the dock, and over to Felazo and Hilan, who are having a friendly conversation with a young dwarf woman.

“Ah, Alessari. Good of you to finally join us,” Felazo says, his smile still pervasive.

Alessari nods. “Felazo,” she says, then leans in. Whispering into his ear, she adds, “We’re not the only ones in town right now, and the other group is being followed many times over. When on your business, keep an eye out and your nose clean.”

Felazo nods and laughs. “Of course, of course. It’s no trouble at all,” he says. Turning to the dwarf, he apologizes. “I’m sorry Oravlim. This is Alessari the Huntress, she just was warning me about some of those dangerously cursed objects clattering about near my lab table.” The elf taps his shoulder and the non-monkey hops off and scurries towards the ship. “So, how is business these days?”

“Good enough. How is yours?”

“Utterly unbusinesslike, yet entirely profitable. Anything you need to talk to us about, or may I wander freely into town to take care of things?”

“You, sure. But your friends look like the sort to cause trouble.”

Felazo laughs. “Of course they do. Deadly as a rogue ebbing to an untrained crew, this pair. But they don’t want to make any waves, so they won’t cause you trouble. Unless, of course, one of yours starts something.”

“We would never,” Oravlim replies, mocking offense.

Felazo does not stop smiling. At this point, as frustrating as it is, Alessari considers how nice it is that she isn’t on the receiving end of his endless smiles. The Sea Elf replies, “Even still, I’d like Sanni’s word on that front, too.” He looks across the open square by the dock at a slender young elf.

The young elf groans visibly and approaches. “You really can’t just deal with Ora like a normal person?” she asks Felazo.

“I can,” he replies, “But I don’t trust you not to cause trouble, Sanni.”

“I would never,” Sanni says, mocking offense in a way that would have been much more effective had Oravlim not just done the same.

Felazo smiles relentlessly at her. “Well then, let me make something very clear,” he begins. Then he leans in and begins to whisper something into her ear. Her expression goes from feigning offense, to curiosity, to concern, to something bordering on fear in the matter of what could only be a couple sentences uttered by the mage. Leaning back, Felazo adds at normal volume, “I assume we have an accord?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sanni replies, pale in the face.

“Alessari, Hilan, this is Llarisanni. Trust nothing she ever says,” Felazo introduces them after terrifying the poor woman.

“I apologize for whatever my companion said,” Alessari adds consolingly. Then, realizing that whatever Felazo had said likely was meant to be scary, or at least unsettling, she quickly tacks on, “Though knowing his experiments, it was probably the sanitized version of the truth.” As though on cue, the strange, monkey-shaped flesh-monster runs out from the ship and hops back onto Felazo’s shoulder. And Alessari can see that Llarisanni is holding back vomit.