The Last Lands

CHAPTER 1.12 FADED SHADOWS

It took them less than eighteen hours to find him.

Artie had stuffed himself into a crate that was only half-filled with salted fish, which provided an easy snack for him. Unfortunately, it was his bladder that became his undoing, not wanting to contaminate his only food source, he had tried to manoeuvre his urination through a hole in the side of the crate, but even with the damp smells of the sea and fish all around, the scent had aroused attention.

The crate was pushed to its side, and Artifae slid out with a dozen dead fish, the smell somehow growing much worse in the daylight. Swords were drawn on him immediately, and he could only watch with squinting eyes as he tried to flash that trademark charm of his. Half a dozen voices were yelling at him, but all were cut short when the deliberate sounds of boot on deck came towards him. Even as a silhouette, Captain Albahr was incredibly distinctive, thanks in no small part to the orange turban that still adorned his head. Several glinting swords were pointed at his throat.

“Stowaway, captain.” First-mate Ban said.

Before Artifae could react, the first-mate's bulky boot was placed firmly on his chest, squeezing the air out of his chest. He wriggled weakly under the watch of strangers' eyes. He was a floundering fish, pathetically squirming under a heel.

“N-nice to see you guys again.” He croaked.

Slowly, the pressure was alleviated off of him as Captain Albahr came closer to inspect, gently ushering Ban away from him.

“We've met before...?” Dhib Albahr mused.

“The beetroot thief.” Ban said with a crooked smile.

Artie spluttered, trying to get himself up on weak palms.

“What are you doing on my ship?” The captain asked.

“Ah, you know...” Artie said, trying to think of some plausible excuse for hiding in a crate of stinking fish.

“Come to steal more of our goods and got stuck when we set sail, eh?” Ban said mockingly.

Artie shook his head.

“I didn't steal anything, I was asked to help unload some goods, that's all.”

“So?” Captain Albahr said. “Why are you here now?”

Artie took a second to collect himself, standing on his knees. The sun glowed but the wind was biting. There was no jungle or beach anywhere in site. He was alone here, with sailors and possible pirates.

Maybe I've been too brazen here. Got to think of something to save my ass here...

“Just a mix up, I swear. I fell into your crate of fish and fell asleep.”

The captain crouched down to meet him, his freckled nose inches away from Artifae, his hazel eyes swimming with hints of green and blue.

“You're on my ship now boy, alone, in the middle of uncharted water. I would not lie to me if I were you.”

Artie met his serious gaze, feeling the easiness of his smile crumble and fall to the deck. He swallowed hard.

“I was threatened.” He started. “By that Frost-kin in your crew. I saw he was in the bottom of your ship, threatening a poor sailor. A Dromea. Lurrs? Lats? Something like that.”

Captain Albahr pulled away, listening carefully to Artie's words, but his expression did not change. No crew member made a sound, only the songs of the sea and the wind continued to play.

“He had a snake. A white snake, it bit the sailor. I don't know if he survived. He was torturing him, all over some...some treasure in the jungles of the south.”

At the mentions of that precise word, a murmur spread through the onlooking sailors. Glints began to appear in eyes, some even started to salivate.

“What treasure?” Captain Albahr asked calmly.

“I don't know. He just said there was a message sent by a rock dove, and this sailor intercepted it. Said there was an inlet...and some ruins, and the treasure was in a tower. That's all I know.”

Artie swallowed, watching the crew carefully from his peripherals, but still trying to look Dhib in the eye. The captain turned to Ban.

“The Frost-Kin? He who travelled with the senator?”

The first-mate nodded.

“There was a Dromea on the crew too. Name of Lortz. That must be who he's talking about. I figured he'd just gotten off at Promise.”

Captain Dhib looked back at the pleading Artifae, and stood up, scratching his chin. He shared a knowing glance at Ban, who smiled. The excitement of the crew behind became palpable as decisions formed seemingly without words.

“Gentlemen, I think we have a new heading.” The captain said to raucous response.

The crew began to excitedly disperse, each to their own stations, but Artifae remained.

“As for you my lad, I'm afraid we have no place for you here.” He said sternly.

“Wait a minute-”

“Probably shouldn'ta told us what you knew so quickly, eh?” Ban said, stepping menacingly closer to him.

“I can make myself useful. I was a labourer at the coast, you can put me to work. I'll learn.” Artie said desperately.

“I'll wager you don't know anymore on how to sail then you do how to keep your mouth shut.” Ban said, clasping the hilt of their sword.

“We only have enough rations to keep us at sea for the crew we have accounted for. I cannot spare another mouth to feed.” Captain Albahr said with only a hint of sorrow.

“Wait, there's more of them.” Artifae said, fixing them with his stare. “At the ruins.”

“Whom?” The captain asked.

“Whoever that Frosty was working for. If you're headed there, you're gonna need as many capable fighters as you can get.”

Ban scoffed.

“What, you did a lot of fighting at the coast?”

“Maybe I did.” Artie said, gritting his teeth.

“And perhaps they won't be there anymore. Perhaps they've ransacked what they could and now they're heading off again.” Captain Albahr said cautiously.

“Maybe they have, and maybe they're just waiting around. If this snake guy is working for you, or for the senator, or just some other pirates, they're going to be there, and if there's treasure, they're gonna put up a fight.”

The captain and his mate looked at each-other seriously.

“Besides.” Artifae said. “It's not just them we should be cautious about. Everyone in Promise Coast is talking about how's there a long lost civilization in the mountains nearby. Not to mention monsters and wild animals. You'll need as many eyes and swords to watch your back as you can get.”

Captain Albahr studied him carefully.

“This is a ploy.” He said quietly. “What you say is probably lies. This is an ambush.”

He turned to Ban, who rolled their neck, their eyes becoming knives.

“Wait, stop, stop. I can help you, please. I just wanted to get away.” Artie said, putting his hands up.

“From the Frost-Kin?”

Artie's eyes widened.

“From the city. From the Astral Academy, from a family who just saw me as a utility to make sure I looked after them while I was forgotten. Even at the coast it was like that. I'm just going one place to another and never feeling like I belong. Please. I'm just trying to find somewhere where I can be me.”

His hands slumped to his lap. It was no longer a gambit, but a death-bed confession. He waited for the hands to clasp his arms and haul him away, but it never happened. He dared to look up, and was surprised to see there was an understanding in the captain's eyes, even if the first mate still looked at him coldly. The captain remained silent, but Artie could see wheels turning behind his eyes.

“How can I trust you?” Dhib asked, finally.

Artie rubbed at his neck.

“I'll prove it to you.” He said calmly.

The captain rose an eyebrow, and slowly, Artifae began to stand.

“I worked as a dishwasher in a Southern takeaway before I went to be a labourer. Before that, I was constantly belittled and berated by the mages in the Academy, who thought I couldn't be a scholar. Everywhere I go, there's always a bad manager, a lofty employer, or some snooty master. They mock me, exploit me, insult me. I was not loyal to them.”

He met the captain in the eyes again, and the two watched each-other closely.

“If you're willing, I will prove to you how hard working I can be. If you're a good captain, I'll earn your respect and trust, and you'll earn my loyalty.”

The captain smiled warmly.

“And if I am not a good captain?”

Artifae shrugged.

“Maybe I'll try the group the Frosty was hanging out with, see if they have me.”

The captain and the first mate both chuckled at the prospect.

“Very well. Let's get you to work.”

Artifae sank with relief.

“Oh my X, oh, thank you so much, you won't regret this.”

Captain Albahr turned his back to him, heading to the wheel.

“One thing though.”

Before Artie could blink, Ban had jerked their wrist upwards. From beneath their leather bracers, their tattoos became visible. One of them began to move. The night-black ink stretched itself off of their skin, separating and turning from liquid to solid. The tattoo was of an executioner's blade, and now it's blade hung in the air, hovering over Artifae's throat. It was 2D, a painting made-life, it cast a shadow on the deck but did not react under light. Artie stopped, slowly raising his hands, blinking in terror.

“If you don't earn my trust, then I want to be clear where you stand.”

Artifae remained silent, barely daring to breathe. Ban grinned like a wolf.

“I think we understand each-other, yes?”

Artie nodded quickly.

“Ye-yes, yes captain.”

Quickly, the blade was lifted, and transformed back to liquid, sinking back into Ban's skin. The Captain had still not turned back, and nodded simply, stepping away. Artie's heart continue to drum, and Ban relaxed their shoulders.

“Come on, let's get you to work.” They said.

“Okay, good.” Artie said eagerly. “Hey, do you think I could get something to drink first? And maybe something to eat that isn't-”

Ban turned with a terrifying glare.

“No, you're right. Show me what I have to do.”

The main cabin room was lined with forty hammocks, many on top of one another. Golden light seeped through a small glassed window, and the beds swayed with the motion of the waves. Sacks and bags of personal affects were strewn to the sides, with several metal items clinking as they moved.

“You're in luck, there's a couple'a empty beds in here. Put your stuff in one of 'em, quickly now, and we'll get you back topside.” Ban said.

Artie found one atop of two bunks, and stored his coat and hat in them, with his meagre silver stashed into a pocket. He stepped back down, and dusted his hands.

“Okay.” He said with a parched throat. “What do you need me doing?”

He turned around and Ban was already gone. He hurried out of the door, past the cargo room, and up the stairs, trying not to relive the horrors he had witnessed below. The deck was filled with movement as sailors hurried about with their tasks. Towards the bow, he saw the first mate talking with a Bronze Dvergr. The Dwarf was sturdy, clad in a leather tunic and finger-less gloves. His great auburn beard was flecked with white and he was balding on the scalp, the rest of his hair tied up in a messy bun. He grimaced as he turned to look at the Westerman, and without being beckoned, Artifae hurried to meet them.

“Kutja, this is your new charge. This...what did you say your name was again?” Ban said without enthusiasm.

“Sajaestan.” Artie said, snapping his boots together. “Artifae Sajaestan, sir.”

Ban sneered at him one final time, before turning to leave. Artie watched him, as the Dvergr hawked and spat on the deck.

“Well then.” Artie said cheerfully. “What do you need me to-”

Before he could finish, Kutja pushed an empty bucket and a scrubbing brush into Artie's hands.

“Get scrubbin' lad. Now.” He barked, before turning to waddle away.

Slightly mortified, Artifae snorted.

“Yes sir.” He spat.

Kutja turned around, squaring up to him with a menacing leer. His pale green eyes were upon Artie like a hawk's.

“What you say?”

“N-nothing sir.”

“Good, 'cos here, on this deck, you don't answer to the cap'n. You don't answer to that slinky first mate o' his either. You answer to me. I saw you squirmin' like a worm on that deck when they found you wit' the fish, an' if you don't wanna be squirmin' like that again, you'll get scrubbin', right bloody now.”

Artie trembled out an affirmation, and quickly looked around, finding a barrel of fresh water, and diligently filling his bucket. He immediately put himself to task, scrubbing by the railing as salt-water constantly rained on him, and sailors were always trodding over him, leaving trails of mud. He was baking under the sun, and after an hour of constant work, the water within the bucket grew dirty. He emptied it, and filled it with fresh water. When it was half-full, he filled his hands with it, draining every drop he could, letting his throat heal, until they were swatted away by the Dwarven hands.

“Oi, get back to work you lazy clod. You ain't done yet.” Kutja growled.

Above him, a light bell rang out, and many sailors dropped what they were doing, stretching as they left to the mess hall. Artie gave a hopeful look behind the Dvergr's shoulder, who moved to meet his look.

“Don' even think about it. You get a break when you earned one.”

The Dvergr waddled back, and Artie returned to cursing and scrubbing, almost alone on the ship. After scrubbing continuously, a shadowed figure stood above him. He braced himself for more scolding from the abrasive Dvergr, or the captain or the first mate, and was surprised to see a feminine hand with a bowl and a cup.

“Hey, I thought you might be hungry.” A gentle voice said.

As he looked up, he saw a young woman shining beautifully against the coronas. She was of the High-Eves, those descended from the Elven sky-masters who mingled with the native Eves of Peridios as the city was first growing. She had chocolate coloured hair, messy under the strain of winds and waves, her long ears poking through. Her skin was paler than Artifae's, her wrists and hands were slender. Her eyes were a deep brown above a sleek smile. She wore a simple brown shirt and trousers with leather sandals that were all slightly too large for her. She urged the clay bowl towards him.

“Oh, thanks.” Artie spluttered through a hoarse throat.

She smiled as he took it from him, and he nervously looked around. She chuckled.

“It's alright, I'm sure you can have a break.” She said.

“Right, okay.” Artie said, grinning.

He sank back against the railing on the damp floor and looked into the contents of the bowl. It was a brown stew with lumps of meat and carrot. The smell might have nauseated him before he left the city, but then he never really knew what work was until he left it. He began to scoop it into his mouth, reeling from how salty it was, and glugging his water, completely forgetting the young woman before him. He paused, wiping his mouth with his wrist.

“Sorry, thanks for that. That was really nice of you.” He said.

The Eve shrugged.

“You looked like you needed it.” She said.

The two met eyes for a while, smiling under the sun.

“I'm Artie, by the way.” He said, flashing a charming smile.

“Taisha.” She said, placing a hand gently on her chest.

“Nice to meet ya.” Artie said with a lazy smile. “What are you doing here?”

“On the ship?”

Artie nodded as he drained more of the soup into his mouth. Taisha sighed, her arms swinging as she walked to the railing. She leant on it and stared out towards the open sea.

“I'm not sure yet.” She said wistfully. “Just trying to get away from the city, I guess. My family. You?”

“Yeah.” Artie said, looking up at her. “Pretty much that, too.”

She smiled, hiding her face as the wind battered her hair.

“So are you here because you hope to find yourself or something? Or are you running away?” Artie asked.

Taisha mulled this over for a second.

“A bit of both, I suppose.” She said dreamily. “I had a very overbearing father, liked to control a lot of things about my life. He was a priest, so I guess that figures into it.”

“Right.” Artie said. “An X priest?”

“No.” She turned with her smile. “For Voss Nova.”

He should have realised, of course Voss Nova was the main religion for the Eves, practised all the way back in the Old Age, before New Peridios and the New Age. A celestial being of immense power said to have created the world. The religious practices were stuffy, from what he heard, and occasionally strict. He knew very little about what it was or why people practised it, but the theory was intrinsic with the history of the city. Even the six rivers that criss-crossed through the island that became the city were named after his six daughters, in some fit of divine inspiration.

“Ah. Of course.” He said smirking. “So you came here to escape him, then?”

Taisha looked saddened by the notion.

“In a way, I guess. It wasn't ever the best relationship, but he was my father, and I still loved him, and my little brother too. He was strict with almost everything, and sometimes I thought I hated him, but I never tried to run away or escape him before. I never wanted to. 'Till there was this incident...”

She trailed off, and Artie just stared at her, seeing her hair conduct the wind, her gentle arms resting on the sides. Quickly, she turned to him.

“How about yourself?” She asked.

Artie finished off the last of the stew and swallowed.

“Kind of similar, actually.” He said, staring at the long, empty deck, bobbing gleefully in the ocean. “Except I did try to run away. I was the seventh of eleven. I have six brothers and four sisters.”

He took a moment, chewing on a shiver of meet trapped between his teeth, remembering his sisters.

“We were never super close. It was a chaotic household.”

“Yeah I bet.” She smiled.

“The sisters kept to themselves, my oldest brother is fifteen years older than me, and my youngest is twelve years younger. By the time my eldest brother started working, I think my dad realised he wouldn't have to work anymore, so long as we were all pitching in. I think that's when I realised, I was just a cog in the machine into them. I'm surprised they didn't just brand me 'No.7', honestly. I didn't want to be that, just another match in the box. I wanted to prove to them, me, or anyone, that I can do something. Find an adventure worth talking about.”

He blinked himself out of the trance and was back on the ship. Taisha was staring at him warmly. She did not respond, but nodded in appreciation. Artie fidgeted with his fingers.

“What was the incident?” He asked innocently.

Taisha squirmed slightly, shaking her head.

“That's not something I'm ready to talk about, honestly.” She said sadly.

“Of course.” Artie nodded. “Sorry.”

She turned around slowly.

“We should probably get back to it. They'll be finishing their meals soon.”

As she said so, the din from inside came a little louder as sailors began to resume their positions and duties.

“It was nice talking to you, Artifae.” She said, collecting his bowl and cup.

“Yeah, you too.”

He returned to his work with a reinvigorated zeal.

Something about Eve girls, man...

********************************************************************

The next few days were a difficult slog under the overbearing Dvergr and the constant scrutinization of the captain and his first mate. No matter what he did was right, even if it was something another one of them told him how to do correctly. If he wasn't scrubbing the decks, he was sweeping the mess and sleeping areas, or helping with the rapid patch-work repairs from the storm before. Just as he was feeling trapped though, he was begrudgingly allowed to enter the mess hall with the others.

He often sat with Taisha, and the only other female on-board, a Southern-folk called Li Misha. Misha was in her mid-twenties, a lean and toned figure with skin darker than Artifae's. Above her narrow eyes was a short crop of black hair that threatened to curl at the very ends. Like most of the rag-tag crew here, she didn't appear to have any set job, but helped with a bit of everything, from repairs and meal-prep to fixing up some of the wounds from sailors mid-sail.

“It's stupid.” She said over a slab of hard bread. “Of course they get one of the only women on board to help cook and treat wounds.”

“Well maybe you should bring that up with Taisha.” Artie teased. “She's the one here who doesn't do anything.”

Taisha recoiled with mock hurt.

“How dare you. I do plenty around here.”

“You clean the mess hall when people are done, but what in-between that?” Artie said with a coy smile.

The cramped room was lined with benches, all filled with sailors. Not everyone was here, but if they were, they would all be rubbing elbows together. The room was alive with rough speech, sweat and the smell of stew.

“Well someone's got to make sure the hammocks are all sturdy enough to nap in. I'd say I'm doing everyone here a service.”

“Hey, your dad's a preacher, right?” Misha said with her mouthful, reaching for a cup of water. “Why don't you start giving sermons. That way, you can use your religious work as an excuse, just like people from your church probably do.”

Taisha set upon Misha with a real scowl this time, but it faded to sadness.

“I don't think the captain would like hearing about Voss Nova very much.”

She looked past Artie, and he turned to the bench in the very corner. Captain Albahr was absent, as he often was during meal times, preferring to dine alone, yet most of his inner circle were there. Kutja sat across from Ban, shovelling second hearings of stew into his bearded face, jabbering with his mouth full. Instantly, Ban's eyes snatched to his own like a predator's, sending a shiver down Artie's back.

“You think he's a follower of X then?” Artie said, trying to distract himself from the iron stare.

“Not a church of the Nihilist? I don't see that.” Misha said.

Taisha shook her head slowly.

“I don't think he's any of them. I think he is a believer, just not in something...you know...conventional.”

“Yeah, there's some things about him I don't get.” Artie said, hushing down to a whisper. “Like what's with the accent?”

“Everyone has an accent, Artie.” Misha said. “Like, you think someone from Arnesfeld is going to sound like someone from Kingsport? Or the Lynchlands?”

“No, I get that.” Artie said dismissively. “But it's something else isn't it? You've heard him talk, there's something up with him, right?”

Misha sneered at him, but Taisha looked at him more seriously.

“I heard from someone here,” She said tentatively. “That he just showed up in New Peridios one day. No-one knows from where, he just popped out of the sea or something.”

Misha and Artie both laughed derisively.

“Yeah, sure.” Artie sneered.

“Well that's nothing.” Misha said, leaning in closer to the both of them. “I heard he's a homunculus.”

“A hommun-a-what-a?” Artie said.

“Shush, keep your voice down.” Misha whispered. “You know, an inorganic life-form.”

“Aren't those illegal?” Taisha asked.

“Yeah, of course, but that doesn't mean people still don't make them.” Misha said, tutting. “Crazy, isn't it? Necromancy and bringing people back from the dead-perfectly fine! Creating a fresh new life form? That's life in Braddock's dungeon.”

“Wouldn't you be able to tell? You know, if they were different?” Artie asked.

“Sometimes.” Misha said, nodding. “But usually no, from what I hear. They can pretty indistinguishable from other-folk.”

“You think he is?” Artie asked seriously.

“No, of course not.” Misha smiled. “Not that it matters. My dad used to always say it didn't matter if a person was born or made, if they were capable of thought and feeling, then that meant they were alive too, and should be treated as such.”

“True.” Artie said, thinking it over.

“Sounds wise.” Taisha said, finishing her bread.

“Well you know, he's one of the Old Order paladins. That kind of thing is drummed into them.”

“Oh really?” Artie said, a little surprised. “I saw one of them back on Promise Coast, he was travelling with some of my friends from the Academy.”

“Interesting.” Misha said, frowning. “Which one was it?”

“I don't know.” Artie admitted. “He was human, he had a man-bun. Honestly, I didn't realise there were actual paladins still about. Figured it was like a club or something.”

“Sir Douglas? Really? Huh, I figured he would never leave Peridios. He's the most die-hard knight there.”

“So, did you join the paladins?” Taisha asked.

“No, X no.” Misha laughed. “Dad told me upfront I didn't have to join them just because of him, but it was important I'd learn about what they were all about.”

“Understandable.” Artie said. “So what did you do before you left the city?”

“Sales.” She smiled. “Healthcare and beauty products, that kind of thing. My dad's getting on a bit, so I wanted to find something that would make a bit more money, so I can look after him. He got hurt quite badly during some scuffle a few years ago, so I need something good and quick.”

“So what brings you here?” Artie asked.

“Treasure.” She smiled. “A new business venture, hopefully.”

“Do you really think there's treasure out there, Artie?” Misha asked.

Artifae shrugged.

“Apparently there's something out there. I heard from my friends they found some weird things. I thought it was just going to be jungles and forests.”

“So there is ruins from the Old Age. Wild, huh?” Misha said with a grin.

“If you keep thinking about treasure, you're going to start drooling.” Artie laughed.

The three continued to laugh and talk amongst themselves as people began to clear their plates and finish their meals. It was a lethargic process, until the bells began to sound. A harsh and shrill warning that got the confused inhabitents of the hall into an uproar.

“Stand to! Stand to!” Ban began shouting, standing up quickly.

Artifae didn't know what that meant, but stood up, following the others out. Taisha gave him a terrified look, but stayed within the room. He followed Misha as the sailors spilled out to their stations, but many were by the Starboard rail, and he joined them. Still the bells rang as they gazed over the blue horizons.

“Look! Over there!” Someone shouted while pointing.

Artie squinted his eyes past the bright strikes of sunshine. There were objects on the water's surface, growing larger.

“What are they?” Artie asked no-one in particular.

There were three boats, but unlike anything Artie had seen before in books or at the coast. They were golden longships with great white sails. They were heading directly towards The Hunnigan's Glory, and quickly.

“All hands! To your stations!” Ban shouted at the gawking sailors.

Immediately, the crew began to move in a flurry, as Artie lingered, unsure of what his station was or what to do in this situation.

“Sejaestan!” Ban called out. “Follow Kutja and grab a weapon. All hands to battle stations!”

“Belay that.” The Captain called out.

Artie and Ban looked up to the helm, where the statuesque captain stood, watching the boats carefully.

“Captain?” Ban called, squinting against the sun.

“Belay that order. We should signal we are not a threat. Have a banner ready.”

Dhib Albahr began to descend the stairs as a member of the crew ran to grab the banner.

“Captain, what if they are here just to attack? What if they are pirates?” Ban pleaded.

“What if they think we are pirates? We should be ready for contact but not seek it.”

Artie snorted.

“If we're not pirates, then what are we?” He said antagonistically.

Ban stared at him coolly, but the captain pondered his response.

“Adventurers, Mister Sajaestan.” He said calmly. “Have the men ready, but do not seek conflict unless a signal is given.”

“Aye sir.” Ban said, moving to the bow.

Artie was given an old sword by Kutja, who dished out dull and splintered weapons to the crew. Nervously, they huddled on the front deck as the ships sped towards them at an alarming rate. Their sales were white, as were The Hunnigan's, and as they grew closer, the crew could see armoured figures watching them closely. A Mud-goblin in ragged clothes picked up at a banner with a white flag on it, almost taller than he, and waved it gracefully back and forth. He continued to do so until they came within spitting distance, and the captain gave the signal to stop. As the ships slowed, Artie could see there was a golden emblem on the white sails, almost hidden by the rays of the sun, the symbol of a winged horse and two spears crossing below it.

“Wait here men, await for my signal.”

The figures on the long ship sparkled with golden armour, their plumed helmets were open, yet their faces were still hidden within shadow. White cloaks were draped along the majority of their shoulders, and under their chest plates were taut muscles that shimmered a similar golden hue. Their spears were tall and their shields were round, their plate-skirts revealed their golden thighs and legs that ended in golden greaves. They waited, perfectly still, as the boats came closer. The flanking ships remained several meters away, and an array of arches with long dark bows stood, un-notched, but ready. The centre ship drifted closer, bouncing on the waves. At the very end of the bow, was a feminine figure, with a white veil over her head. She was cloaked and armoured similarly to the rest, though she bore no weapon. The captain was called, and he walked purposefully to his own bow. She raised a golden hand, adorned with white and black rings, and he nodded.

“Prepare for boarding.” He said, walking back.

The longship came towards starboard, and the crew of The Hunnigan's Glory threw a rope ladder down, landing on the golden ship. The crew of the longboat tied it to their rails, and waited as the ship came closer, then the landing party came. The soldiers came on first, two of them, tall and taller with their plumed helmets, spears held to their sides. Their hair underneath was dark, and their eyes were a deep hazel, flecks of gold, brown and green mingling together. They waited patiently as the veiled woman elegantly climbed the ladder. She stood between her two guards as the ragtag crew murmured amongst themselves. Slowly, she brought her hands up to the veil and lifted it, revealing a beautiful face within. Her eyes were the sea, so blue they almost became purple, and her hair was tied up into black coils. She stood with a distinctive grace, and was half a foot taller than the captain.

“Well met.” She said to him.

Like the captain, she had her own accent, one more distinguished than of anyone from Arnesfeld or New Citadel. It was different to Captain Albahrs, but noticeable all the same. The captain bowed his head slightly, and stood formally.

“Well met. I am Dhib Albahr, captain of The Hunnigan's Glory. How might we serve you?” He said with a refined poise.

The woman took a moment to study the gawking crew with a slight smile. She was a goddess amongst rabble, and Artie had never seen a woman whose skin shone with such decadence.

“I am Sofia Ericles. Emissary of Demeterios.” She said, setting her emerald stare on the captain.

The crew began to murmur again.

“Demet-rios? Whats that?”

“That in the city?”

“Look at their skin. It's gold.”

Artie followed the whispers, but looked only at Captain Albahr. His face was one of distinct shock.

“Demeterios? It can not be.” He said in a low voice.

The crowd looked amongst themselves in confusion, searching for an answer amongst shrugs, but the captain remained petrified to the floor. Sofia's smile began to widen as she saw the response of the captain. She cocked her head to the side playfully.

“You have heard of us then?” She said coyly.

The captain shook his head.

“'Tis a myth. A fairy-tail. The golden isles do not exist.” He said, daring for a second to believe they did.

She chuckled at that, but did not reply. The guards behind her remained motionless, not a trace or hint of feeling upon their shaded faces. The only movement came from the horse-hair plumes and cloaks fluttering in the sea breeze. She scanned the crew once more, daring to meet Artie in the eyes if only for a second, and scattering the nesting butterflies in his stomach.

“The Isles of Demeterios have been locked away for many centuries, but we return to his world now.” She said loud enough for the whole of the ship to hear. “And as we do, so too does a great evil return to these lands.”

The muttering within the crew grew louder. She turned her attention back to the captain.

“What is your purpose here captain?” She asked.

The captain fought against a shrug, remembering his poise and character.

“We are explorers. Artefact and treasure hunters.” He said.

Ban gave him a sly look, wondering why he would be so truthful. Sofia noticed, and pursed her lips slightly. She studied the battered ship, and the nervous crew holding their ramshackle arsenal.

“You are the second ship we have seen of late, Captain.” She said. “And the first to give us a warm reception.”

The captain looked to Ban, confused. Fear flared within Artie, and he gripped his slightly rusted sword until his fingers hurt. Captain Albahr muttered, almost afraid, yet still captivated by the golden woman. She smiled warmly at him.

“Do not fear captain. It is not a fight we seek.” She said, almost a purr.

She stepped closer to the crew and drew herself taller.

“Whom we seek is a dangerous spirit. A Time Spirit, returned to this world after many thousands of years. “

A Time Spirit? What in blazing Hel is that?

Captain Albahr narrowed his eyes, begging to understand. Sofia turned back to him.

“They were once imprisoned by my people, many, many years ago, but before Demeterios was sealed away, it escaped, scourged from the earth. I have been charged with returning it.”

Captain Dhib was exasperated, losing some of his staunch demeanour.

“I am sorry, my lady, but we have never heard of a Time-Spirit before.” He said, looking behind him to see if anyone disagreed.

“I've never even 'eard of Demestos before.” One crew member said.

“It is a malevolent spirit from the old world. One of many faded shadows dispelled by divine light.” She said with pious purity.

She scanned the crew for semblances of truth, and finally concluded there were no lies here.

“Very well.” She said, retrieving her veil. “If you come across such a creature before I do, then I beg you, do not confront it. You will have no hope of victory.”

The crew were flabbergasted as she made to leave. She bid her goodbyes to the stunned captain, still chewing on the cryptic heeding bestowed upon him. Soon after, the rope bridge was untied, and the ship began to depart. The rocking ship under Artie's feet heaved as the flanking ships passed them, the stoic, silent faces beneath them staring cautiously at them. The crew were stunned for a while thereafter, lethargically returning to their tasks. Before Artie even had a moment to comprehend what had just occurred, a mop was pushed harshly into his hands.

“Back to work, lad. Hop to.” Kutja snarled.

Artie immediately began pushing the damp mop around when he saw Ban and the captain speaking. Ban quickly departed, and Dhib Albahr remained, slumping over the rail by himself. Artie watched him carefully, before cautiously mopping his way over to him. He cleared his throat lightly, but the captain did not react.

“Captain?” He asked gently.

Slowly, Captain Albahr reanimated himself, turning his head. Artie watched him with concern for a moment, and saw impatience grow on Dhib's face.

“Yes?” He asked.

“What...” He started, unsure of what to say. “What is Demert-rios? It sounded like you had heard of them before.”

Captain Albahr drew in a deep breath, before turning to stare at the sea.

“They say The Golden Isles were the most beautiful places on Aerth. A place of unparalleled beauty, society, art, music, with the greatest and most fearsome warriors to have ever existed.”

“A myth, then.” Artie said. “Like you said.”

The captain looked at Artie with a wistfulness.

“So I was taught.” He said sadly. “A place created by the Gods for the most devout, those who were rewarded with a long life and skills far superior to anyone else.”

“Are they human, then? Or Eves?”

“They say the existence of Demeterios predates the existence of Eves.”

Artie was taken back.

Older than Eves? Is that possible?

“They were just old legends in old books I read as a child.” Dhib said. “It's...impossible to fathom that they might really exist.”

He stared out into the sea, and Artie rested his chin upon his hands which were upon the mop.

“Strange.” Artie said slowly. “I can't believe I've never heard that legend before.”

The captain breathed in deeply once more, turning his gaze quickly to Artie, than beyond.

“There are few who have.” He said, as he stepped past the boy.

The ship continued unabated for a few hours, but the crew had grown jittery.

“Oh X, I was sure they was lookin' for me.” A skinny Sea-Eve in a bandana said to his friend, a nervous looking Lupine.

“An' me an' all. Thought that was it for me.”

Many other members of the crew shared similar sentiments, including a relieved Kutja, who had been telling the Mud-Goblin who waved the banner that he was ready for a fight.

“Soon as that bird came on board I was thinkin', Oh 'She's 'ere for me'. Got Ol' Beauty out by me side, ready, just in case. Thought one of the guardsmen might've tipped 'em off.”

He caught Artie's eye, and growled at him until Artie resumed his mopping, hoping never to find out what Ol' Beauty might be. It was soon after that, the smell of smoke began to drift itself along the horizon. Artie wrinkled his nose at it, scanning the empty seas for what could possibly amount to a fire out here. The other members of the crew were alerted too, each looking along the endless waves for answers. The sky had grown paler, with hints of orange hues beginning to stain the sky.

“There, captain!” The Sea-Eve called from the crow's nest.

Artie could see nothing, except gentle gusts of black from afar. The captain pulled out his brass eye-piece, and murmured to himself.

“Captain?” Ban asked.

“There, dead ahead.” Captain Albahr said, pointing with the eyeglass.

Almost a blur within the air, was the faint shrouds of smoke.

“Full speed ahead. As fast as you can, now.” He shouted.

Artie joined the rows of sailors, pulling ropes and adjusting sails. What their purposes were, he did not know, but he acted upon every order given to him with vigour.

“Are you sure that's wise captain?” He heard Ban asked in a hushed voice.

The captain only nodded, standing from the helm. The wind raced past, brining with it the cloying smog. After ten minutes of coaxing along with the wind, the Sea-Eve called out again. There, in the water, was the still burning remnants of a ship, taking its time to sink. The flames had been extinguished, but the charred wood remained, slowly being consumed by the sea.

“Hel's Daemons.” Kutja spat.

The floating debris drifted towards them, planks, crates,barrels and bodies too numerous to count. They were from New Peridios, many with swan feathered arrows protruding from their carcasses. Vast amounts of steam floated along like mist as the burning wreckage met the sea water.

“Search for survivors.” Ban shouted as the crew members gathered to the sides to watch the floating consequences of destruction.

Artie stood next to Taisha, who cupped her mouth with a single hand as they watched the splinters of a once whole ship pass by.

“We must be careful, Ban.” The captain said quietly. “The golden woman said there was another ship they met, one who was not so friendly to them.”

“You think this might be them?” Ban asked carefully.

“We must assume they are.”

“Captain over here! Man overboard!” The Lupine sailor scouted from the port-side.

Artie gave a quick look to Taisha, before they ran with the rest of the crew, reaching the railing. Amongst floating barrels and spilled supplies, there was a slumped figure with a weak hand up, which soon gave way, falling into the water. The crew rushed around for rope, as Artifae saw the figure was one of the Mountain-Eves. His long, thick black hair was lank in the water. His clothes were torn, and he was slumped over a long green metal crate that was sealed shut, bobbing in the turquoise waves. The rope was thrown to the floating figure, who weakly grabbed the rope, and coiled it around his wrist. With arduous effort, he was pulled to the side of the boat, and hoisted up.

Li Misha and Taisha Paj were given charge of him, and gave him a wooden cot in the medical quarters, which was little more than a cupboard with a white sheet for a door. The Mountain-Eve was dishevelled, with a thick dark beard and a pale complexion. He had a strong build, as atypical of his kind, and had been gripping the crate tightly. Some of the crew members made to immediately open it, as reward for saving his life, but found no discernable way to open it. The crew had been busy salvaging what they could, but most of it had been lost. As the evening took hold of the sky, little remained of the ship as it fell before the waves. Artifae stepped in just as Misha was leaving to clean her hands. The mountain eve had sustained light wounds and burns, and she had done her best to heal them as he could. Taisha sat there, staring at him with a strange fascination.

“How is he?” Artie asked.

She snapped back into reality, having been surprised.

“Oh.” She said, clearing her throat. “Good. I think. Misha has bandaged up his wounds, he's been asleep for about two hours now.”

Artie nodded, studying the Eve closely. His arms were well-built, his hairy chest was lined with scratches, some covered up with gauss, some too light to worry about. His eyes were twitching as he befell some hideous dream. Artie watched him carefully, as his entire body began to twitch.

“What's happening?” He asked.

Taisha couldn't answer, the two were staring at his arms. They were flickering. Almost as if vanishing from existence to not, then from pale skin to white bone. Except it wasn't bone, nor was it white. It was metal, and in the last glimpses of daylight, Artifae saw them for what they were.

They were silver.

It's Sylo Teht.

His eyes flicked open.