Incurred Wrath

[Dan]

The air in the ports of Cawick hung with freshly sprayed salt water, rough waves rocked against the piers. Ships rocked with the ocean, tied to sturdy poles as they moored in the ports, with sailors going to and fro; unloading shipments a week late from its due arrival date. Shouting and the bustle of people moving about the piers of Cawick never slowed to a grinding stop, not even when the very coastal empire of Lyvir treads on a precariously thin line.

However, business must continue as its clients beckon the call for its wares. One ship had yet to return from the five seas: the Weeping Lady. The Merciless Company, a shipment company responsible for various types of exports and imports of goods—and illegal goods—to Lyvir, employed the crew of the Weeping Lady, its crew, and most importantly, the captain, Grine.

Braving the harshest storm yet, the Weeping Lady defended herself against the onslaught of the roaring waves; threatening to engulf the entire ship and its occupants at a blink of an eye. Somehow, some way, Captain Grine commanded the ship with such spite and bravery against storms that made them quite reputable in all of Lyvir. Whether by sheer dumb luck or experience of ten years on the high seas, Captain Grine went from a freshly washed seaweed to a domineering liege of the five seas.

As for the people of Cawick, business as usual until they saw the Weeping Lady in the distance. Some stopped in their actions, others continued without a care, but many took a second glance before continuing on. The unmistakable figurehead of a weeping lady at the very bow - and its insignia on the black flags - of the ship coming up and down through the rough terrain. Almost like guiding a crew of sled dogs through an everlasting winter shrouded in a large, white cloak.

Captain Grine steered the ship, shouts ripped from their throat with a domineering tone. Black hair stuck to their sun-kissed skin, drenched from head to toe in the roaring sea’s ice-cold water. The Port of Cawick greeted the Weeping Lady with open arms; welcoming not only more imports, but solid land for once. Serving weeks at sea, its crew were almost crying at the sight of home. Like cogs in a well-oiled machine, the crew worked together to dock the ship. Once the plank hit the pier’s boards, a ‘hurrah’ rang out from the Weeping Lady’s crew. While moored, the crew worked together with the workers of The Merciless Company to get goods off the ship and into the hands of its owners.

As for Captain Grine, they were checking out the damage to the hull and the Weeping Lady. The Merciless Company would foot the bill later to fix her up again - it was part of the contract Grine signed with Madame Noir a decade ago. Satisfied with looking over the ship, Grine left the hands of their baby to the first mate, Caerne. They patted the small lad on the shoulder before earning a glare from him.

“Make sure she doesn’t grow legs now.” Grine chuckles before walking away.

The clicking of their boots barely heard over the sound of the downpour. Grine kept their right hand glued to their hat as they barely fought against the rain. A good bath in the public bathhouse sounded good about now, but it would have to wait for later. Business with Madame Noir still awaited. You could say Grine had her waiting for more than a month now with unfinished business. It’s not like it was their fault. Madame Noir was the one who urged the captain to head back to Norithiml—one of the largest cities settled at the end of Todazur’s coastal side—after striking a contract with the Assassin’s Guild.

Apparently, Lyvir appeared more destitute than the last time Grine returned to the coastal empire. As for Cawick, this ol’ port town always looked run-down. It’s part of the charm that drew Grine here in the first place. Bouncing from city to city after the fall of Asmia’s kingdom, Grine ‘settled’ here, well… not really. Grine headed down back alleys, dodging anyone who might recognise them in the somewhat darkness.

A large building made of fine pine, lanterns swaying in the wind the on porch of the welcoming; “The Scarlet Rose.” A tavern and inn that was the largest in all of Cawick. Grine smirked upon seeing the red neon light powered by the ol’ magick. Tucking a wet strand of hair behind their ear, Grine headed up the steps. This place was also owned and run by Madame Noir. Business awaited them on the other side.

 

[BookKnight]

Dove sat in the back corner of the Scarlet Rose tavern, sipping her weekly allowance of alcohol: one small glass. Not even a full pint. Her business mader her enough money to eat food made by someone else while sitting down at a table that was going to be cleaned by someone else once a week, and she always made the most of it when she could. It was a lot better than the cheap takeaway stuff eaten either while walking or in the drafty apartment she rented a few blocks away. It did its job of keeping her dry and sheltered from whatever the elements had to throw at her, and the front room worked perfectly as her shop, but it was not exactly homey. This place, for all its grime and less than compelling company, was more homey than home had ever been. Her soup and bread arrived with an unceremonious clomp, and she sighed in pleasure as she wrapped her hands around the warm bowl. Perfect for a chilly night!

Then they arrived. She looked up as the person with long, black hair and a crooked nose that had clearly seen more than one fist walked through. Man? Woman? Her eyes narrowed as she studied the body. Her first instinct was woman, but there was enough doubt to keep her guessing. Ah! That was it. One of those that did not define as either. Those type played havoc in her line of business as they destroyed certain lines of assumptions during cold readings. Of course, only a complete amateur relied on gender stereotypes, but even the pros, or especially the pros, liked to take things easy once in a while. Oh, well, in any case, this one did not look like an easy target. Far from it, this one looked like they might punch her in the nose if she approached them for a business transaction. She rather liked the nose she had. It was not particularly a show-stopper, but it was a pleasantly defining feature.

She turned her attention back to her soup. The other did look familiar, that person. Where had she seen them before? It would come to her if she didn't force it. For now, she had soup to eat while it was hot and strange looks to ignore as they were cast her way.