The Heimwind glided smoothly over the ocean, its deck swaying gently with each wave. The water crashed rhythmically against the ship, creating a soothing sound like a lullaby. The day watch and the passengers have turned in for the night. The occasional lantern swayed in the darkness, casting moving shadows across the wooden deck. The hum of quiet voices, punctuated now and then by the footfalls of the night watch crew, broke the ship's tranquil rhythm.
Cecil stood alone at the bow, his coat shifting from the subtle breeze as he stared upwards towards the sky, his monocle glinting as it caught the moonlight.
Resting in the night sky high above him, like a pair of watchful eyes, hung the twin moons. The Pale Moon was a slender crescent, barely illuminating the clouds. It glowed with a soft silver hue, cold and distant. Beside it sat its twin: the Azure Moon glowing like a sapphire gem. Unlike its paler sibling, the Azure Moon neither waned nor waxed, like a fixed jewel in the sky.
He adjusted his monocle, letting it settle into its rightful place over his right eye. His fingers lingered on the rim.
Ripley wasn't with him. They had parted at the Academy, their paths always crossing and separating like clockwork. The old dwarf had started on his return home. Cecil was alone now, surrounded by strangers and the sea.
He reached into his coat and withdrew the letter, turning it in his hand to study the velvet-red wax seal. With deliberate care, he unsheathed his dagger and slid the blade beneath the envelope flap, making sure not to break the seal as he opened it. He gingerly pulled out the letter, holding it between his gloved fingers as he read:
Dear Caecilius Draco Hollows,
You are hereby formally invited to the Masquerade party hosted by the Velgrave Family located in the Virewood Estate in the Noctis District of Stella City.
The party starts at 9pm on the 17th of the 6th month. Show this letter to the guards to be allowed in and please do come properly dressed and named for the occasion.
Signed,
Sr. Clock
'All that effort getting this to me… and for what? An Invitation? How did he even know I was going to be in Stella City, to begin with?' Cecil mentally scoffed in his mind.
Cecil's gaze returned to the stars above.
"Power always comes at a price… Are my desires worth it?" he murmured, fiddling with the seal flap as memories stirred.
With a sigh, he sheaths the dagger again and slips the letter back into the envelope and settles the envelope back into his coat pocket. He turned and descended the stairs that led below deck. The air grew thicker with various scents from wet wood to the odor of people. Hammocks swayed gently with the rocking of the ship as snores filled the steerage. Cecil ignored them, finding an open hammock. He set his suitcase down next to his bed for the night, laying his cane next to it, and unbuckled the revolver and dagger from his hip, placing them carefully beneath his pillow.
For a few minutes, he sat on the hammock moving in sync with the swaying of the ship, shoulders hunched, fingers tracing the rim of his monocle letting the soft lantern light refract off the lens.
He slips the monocle into his suitcase before forcing himself to lie back, staring at the hammock above him. The groaning of the wooden hull helped lull Cecil's thoughts.
Eventually, his eyes shut and he drifted off to sleep.
—
The chime of bells and muffled shouting stirred him from his slumber.
Cecil pushed himself up without a sound, blinking the last remaining vestiges of sleep from his eyes as the morning light filtered through the grating hatch, tinging everything it hit in a soft golden hue.
He glanced around at the other passengers on the ship. Some of them still rested in their hammocks, while others had already begun to stir, chatting with bunkmates or chewing on hardtack and dried fruits and meats for breakfast.
He stood, brushing his coat straight and holstering his weaponry before slipping his monocle into place. Grabbing his suitcase and cane, he started his way through the crowd, heading for the deck above.
As he reached the deck, he walked towards the ship's bow, making sure to not get in the day watch's way. Ahead lay Grandport — the first and so far only city on the western continent to join the Confederation of Free Cities from the east — a bustling harbor metropolis.
Docked ships loomed like massive beasts tethered down by thick ropes. The stone piers overflowed with people, from countless walks of life, swarming like bees in every direction. Bright canopies shaded merchant stalls, and banners of every color fluttered in the salty breeze. The ocean breeze carried the layered scent of salt, fish, smoke, and spice intermingled into something wholly unique to Grandport. As the ship neared the city the shouts in half a dozen languages echoed throughout the harbor.
The core of the Western World's Commerce.
A place where everything passes through, but nothing stays for long.
As Heimwind neared the harbor, the crew moved swiftly into position. The first mate barked orders, clear and precise, showing his experience. Sailors raised the sails, slowing the ship as it approached port.
The vessel let out a low groan as it pulled alongside the docks. The crew tossed the mooring lines to the awaiting dockhands, who secured the ship with ease, tying her to the great mooring posts lining the quay. The Bosun pulled the capstan clutch, allowing the anchor to fall fully, bringing the Heimwind to rest before lowering the gangplank to the stone floor with a thunk, bridging ship and shore.
Cecil lingered near the railing, letting the first wave of eager passengers disembark.
'No need to scramble like startled hens. The city's not going to vanish into the sea' he thought dryly, watching as elbows fly and boots clatter down the gangplank in a rush. A wry smirk tugged at his lips.
When the tide of bodies finally thinned, he stepped forward. With his suitcase in one hand and his revolver holstered beneath his coat, he calmly crossed the gangplank and set foot on the weathered stones of Grandport.
He moved through the bustling city, walking its winding streets, each step taking him further from the harbor as the city's clamor enveloped every inch of stone and air. Merchants hawked exotic goods under colorful canopies, calling out to anyone willing to hear their sales pitch. Workers pulled heavy carriages to and from the port, their wheels rattling over the cobblestone road. Children shouted and laughed, darting underfoot with reckless joy as they played with their siblings. People from all over gathered at cafés and food stalls, conversing over meals while the aroma of different freshly made breads filled the air.
Cecil's eyes lingered on the siblings for a moment before turning away and continuing with a steady pace, being careful as to not collide with anyone as he wove his way through the lively crowd, making his way to the Forum, the city's central space acting as both its largest marketplace and main gathering space. The closer he drew to the Forums, the denser the crowd became. Various Minstrels played their instruments from different parts of the square, their melodies overlapping into a kind of harmony even if unintentionally, and, of course, even more merchants vying for attention, their voices rising above the natural noise of the Forum.
"Fresh Emberfruit from the cliffs of the Archinthian Republic! Crack them open and roast them over an open flame to taste their meaty flavor for the low price of 10 Copper Leptans!"
"Wine from the rolling vineyards of the Yquik Council. We have various brands from Kréas & Nectar and their gentle and alluring Elysian Rosé to Thymós Vineyards and their rich and robust Aegis Red!"
"Textiles straight from the Silver Capital of the Crescent Archipelago! Come and feel the luxury of the Sangrella Dynasty!"
Cecil weaved past the various hawkers, ignoring them as he headed deeper into the Forums, towards the towering port schedule board, its surface made from dark wood and iron hinges. Dozens of thick wooden plaques hung in orderly rows, each one listing the ship's name, docking location, destination, ship type, and departure time. Workers moved about swapping out the plaques with long hooked poles as ships came and went.
He scanned the listing with methodical precision.
Copper Finch - Dock 7C Northern Side - Destination: Tirnalee Kingdom, Rivertown of Cindralis - Vessel Type: Mercantile - Departure: 28th of Tudoria
Jewelion - Dock: 3A South Side - Destination: Luris Democracy, City of Virelin - Vessel Type: Passenger - Departure: 1st of Sophrion
Heimwind - Dock A5 Eastern Side - Destination: Ludovic Academy - Vessel Type Passenger - Departure: 1st of Sophrion
Cecil skipped over the familiar vessel name and continued to skim over the various ships' information. His gaze halted on a plaque towards the corner.
Whisperwake - Dock: 1B Northern Side - Destination: Novis Empire, City of Stella - Vessel Type: Passenger - Departure: 4th of Sophrion
'4th of Sophrion...' he thought. 'Seems like I've got four extra days to waste before the vessel departs. From here to Stella City should take four to five days at sea, leaving around eight days to get settled before the party.' He walked away from the port schedule board.
'If I am going to stay here for the next three days it'll be best to deal with the most pressing issue first: a place to stay. Once I have a place to stay, I might as well check to see if anyone carries Blinkwolf Eyes.' He moved away from the Forum, letting the sounds of bartering and music fade into a muffled blanket of noise as he turned down one of the narrower side streets. The stone avenues of the main streets gave way to a network of winding paths, each with its own rhythm of life. Cecil moved through the city's veins with purpose, his suitcase in one hand and his cane tapping against the cobblestone with each step he took.
The buildings around him grew taller the deeper he went, their stone foundations and timber-framed upper floors their colors muted by salt, sea, and time. Ivy crept up the walls. Cecil kept his eyes on the various signs hung on iron brackets— long since rusted— words written on them for the literate, and simple but effective pictures for the illiterate or those too drunk to read.
Cecil's eyes darted over each establishment he passed, analyzing them. Too noisy. Too crowded. Too shady. He wasn't looking for comfort, exactly, just somewhere quiet and secure so he didn't have to sleep with one hand on his revolver. Cecil continued walking, pausing once he reached a crossroads in the streets, glancing at a street marker nailed to the side of a building: Widdershins Alley to the left and Stonehall Row to the right. Neither one of those names meant anything to him.
With a sigh, he played with his monocle as he turned down Widdershins Alley.
The road narrowed further, leading to a set of worn steps between two buildings. The faint scent of herbs wafted from somewhere nearby, a notable shift from the briny city breeze. Cecil descended cautiously, his shoes echoing softly against the uneven stone steps. Each step the scent grew stronger. silence of the side streets fading to give way to a quieter kind of commerce— as opposed to the Forums.
At the bottom of the stairs, the enclosed space of the stairwell opened into another street, one hidden from the light of day by the towering buildings that formed its walls. Shops lined the street's walls with doors open and their displays filled with herbs and other ingredients for those interested in mysticism and the occult.
'Well… at least now I don't need to look for the shops.'