The red tape is plete, the time has e. The gates to the hangar are pushed open and logs are id on the gentle slope to the Edge. s rattle, hammers strike wood, and then crack! The beams holding Timbergrove break. The ship slides onto the wooden beams, and then slides faster and faster until it hurtles off the Edge. Capstans on the dock spin out of trol as the free falling vessel pulls sck. For ostopping moment, it looks like the ship might fall forever, but then it lights up. Mana glows along the grain of the a wooden hull, trag its waves and whorls, and soft white lite streams from the pilot house. Dockworkers lock the now still capstans and the ship rises, till the hawsers holding it to the quay grow taught. The men haul on the liill the Timbergrove, alive agais fast by the pier.

  “She’s still a beauty,” teran says softly. He g the cat in Cy's arms. “Please take care of her.”

  The ods slowly while gazing not at the resurrected ship, but at a bird perched on the forestay. The cat's whiskers seem to rise ever so slightly. Then, all at ohe tration breaks. The cat shakes its head.

  “What? Oh, the ship. Pretty. Yeah. I’ll try not to destroy it till Tuesday.”

  teran frowns, then sighs and shakes his head.

  “Fluffy! Look.” Cy points.

  teran and Quasi follow the boy’s finger, where-in several wagons filled to the brim with supplies approach, led by the rest of his crew.

  “rade Quasi, Little rade,” Boriss waves with a grin. “rade Cillian is very shrewd unist.” Boriss says when they arrive.

  “I'm not shrewd,” Cillian ters, though the Scott 't help but copy Boriss’s shit-eating grin.

  Only Irmgard maintaioic expression, though there is a twinkle in her eye.

  “You guys bought a hell of a lot,” Quasi says. “I’m guessing you got a good deal?”

  “Da, very good deal.” Boriss sps Cillian on the shoulder, “rade Cillian is proper unist. He make all [Mert] struggle and fight to give good deal. Is great!”

  Quasi raises an eyebrow. “Well then, you tell me the story while we get everything loaded on the ship. I’d like to embark before night.”

  ________________________________________________________________

  When Myers returns to the shipyard, he notices, quite thankfully, that the ship is floating and docked. Several [Stevedores] are carrying supplies into the ship while the crew is sitting on the ship's weather deck. He rushes onboard and climbs up to the deck. Then he walks up to the group and listens in on their versation.

  “So, I noticed that all these traders that sell supplies positioned o each other- and they were selling pretty much the same things. Sure, the prices were slightly different, but not by too much.” Cillian clears his throat. ”Now, ohing you o know is that prices always go down when buying in bulk, and merts love selling and buying in bulk, especially for items that aren't in much demand or items that expire. So, to get the best prices, I started to listen to the bulk offers of one mert, then the bulk offers of the others. I would inform them that this and that mert were a better price, and they would try to beat the price, but I’d go and do the same with the others.”

  Cillian grins aggressively.

  “Eventually, a dozen traders started yelling at each other and peting for who could give me the best deal. Two of them even got into a bit of a fist fight that had to be stopped by some nearby [Guards].”

  He sighs happily. “It was great. I bought everything for a fourth of what they offered before.”

  “And then you spent the rest on alcohol and ons.” Irmgard adds.

  Cillian grins. “Well, yes. We’ve ay hold in need of things to trade.”

  “Smart,” Quasi says. “Spending some moo profit ter from trade is good. So how much Trist do we have left over?”

  “Twenty.” Cillian says.

  Irmgard and Quasi share a look. Then they frown at the Scott.

  “I left you with all of our . Are you saying we only have twenty trist left over?” Quasi asks.

  “Well, yes. Of course. Money not ied is money wasted.”

  “Yes, but what if we need moo, say, make port? What if we o buy a tradi to sell oods? What if there is something important we o buy and don't have enough time to sell oods for profit?”

  Cillian rolls his eyes. “Bah, we’ll just take a loan.”

  Quasi groans. “This isn’t the U.S. where you get a loan of money whenever you want. We o have cash on hand!”

  “What isn’t the U.S?” Myers interrupts. He walks to one of the empty stools o cy.

  The fo silent at his question. Quasi sniffs, then turns his head towards Myers, a frown on his kitty face.

  “We’ll tell you when we embark.” Quasi finally answers. “Did you finish what you set out to do?”

  Myers raises an eyebrow at the secrecy, but nardless. He too has secrets, though his secrets will stay secret for the rest of his life.

  “I did.” Myers answers quickly. He g his e and then at the three other human adults at the table. “As Quasi will be taking the [Captain] job, what will your jobs be? If you don't mind me asking.”

  The group shares a look with one-another.

  “We’ll tell you when we embark.” Quasi says again.

  Myers frowns. In many cultures, asking about someone's css is taboo, but jobs are not, and a sailing ship needs a clear of and. Even so, Myers chooses not to delve too deeply. He o be off this isnd as soon as possible.

  The sound of footsteps thankfully interrupts the versation. A man, average i but astonishingly well built, walks up to the motley crew. The sun gleams off the sweat on his brow and arms.

  “Uh, Sir.” The [Stevedore] addresses the group, “Everything is loaded up.”

  “Oy,” Cillian reizes the man. “Aren’t you that brat that got knocked out by Boriss here?”

  Cillian elbows the Russian.

  The [Stevedore] Favio, flushes. “Um, yes. About that. I-I was drunk. I’m sorry for my as at the bar. I was dealing with somethi that happened.”

  Quasi waves the young man off. “I told you it's fine. You were drunk and your wife was nearly killed by a dog st year. Emotio hot.” Quasi raises a paw at Cy, “Just don’t threaten kids in front of me and everything is peachy.”

  Quasi stands up and stretches.

  “You said everything is loaded up? Perfect. Let's set sail.” Quasi g Myers, “You take the wheel- er, core.”

  Cy tilts his head, “Isn’t the [Captain] supposed to unch the ship?”

  “Eh,” Quasi shrugs. “I’ll do it ime. I’ll let the more experienced person do it first.” Quasi looks at Myers with an expet gaze.

  Myers nods slowly.

  “Perfect. Favio, tell the men to prepare the ship for unch. We leave in five minutes.”

  ____________________________________________________________________

  The gangpnk is raised, the anchor weighed, the ms cast off. The st tethers fall away and the ship floats free of the Edge, buoyed on the mana wind... Quasi watches as Myers takes the helm, or more like the core. He rests his hand on the white orb with a practiced feel.

  The Timbergrove groans and shudders from below. Quasi and Cy rush to peer over the railing. ays draw taut as the old, arborean wood wing masts swing out from the hull. Batons unfold from the mast, spreading vas as the wing sheets pull the boom against the side of the ship. The ship pitches back, then rolls to starboard as she side-slips away from the pier. The cat and the boy study the isnd’s Edge with rapt attention as the ship drifts away. Then a loud, “Snap!” startles them both as the ship pitches forward and rolls farther to starboard. Quasi and Cliff spin around. The jib hangs full in the breeze as it turns the Timbergove’s bow to the open sky.

  “Cy, grab hold of something.” Myers orders.

  Cy does as asked, as does every other person on the ship.

  The jib furls and the wing sails spread wide. The wing jibs stretd four sails sing upward. The Timbergrove begins to glide forward. From the helm, Myers slowly trims the sails baidline as the ship picks up speed. The ship bucks upwards and the bow pitches up. Quasi digs his cws into the rail and fttens his ears against the breeze. The ship vibrates again as unseen parts of the rigging trim themselves. Soon the ship is clipping along at several tens of knots and Myers trims the wing jibs for level flight.

  He nods happily and turns to the rest of the crew. He is met with wide-eyes from everyone, including Cy.

  The old man grins and pats the core, “Looks like we’ve both still got it.”

  Quasi untches his nails off the deck. “You could have warned us.” He hops up on a ledge and gazes into the distant expense. He is greeted with clear air, some clouds, and numerous distant isnds. As he gnces around, he frowns. He rushes to the ledge and looks down. Half a sun gnces back, burning his retinas ever so slightly. Blinking rapidly, he looks back at the sky. Then he rushes back excitedly.

  “rade Quasi, vhat is wrong?”

  “This p has no sun! Also, cheder the isnd.”

  The rest of the group rushes to the gunwales and looks out in amazement, to Myers’ amusement and fusion. They act like children on their first time on an airship.

  But, Myers does g the retreating isnd, and raises a surprised eyebrow. Underh Arbor is a massive storucture stig downward.

  By the time they return, Myers asds to the Mana lihere, he slows the ship's speed and removes his hand off the core. It should not need his presence for the time being.

  “Myers,” Quasi calls. He hops up on a ledge. “I have not beeirely truthful with you, and now it is the time for truth. I - We -” He waves a paw. “Us four are not of this world. We e from a different world where csses do . We got ours only st week. We are low of level and pletely clueless. We’re in need of a lot of information, and yoing to provide that for us. But first, it’s only fair, do you have any questions for me, or, I guess, us?”

  Myers blinks as his aged mind tries to process the cat's words. His immediate rea is to call them out as liars, but every a he’d observed makes a great deal of sense if it’s true.

  “If what you say is true, why keep suformatio?”

  “Because knowledge is power, and why should we just hand every Tom, Dick, or Harry power of us? Like, what if there’s some anization hunting and killing people who e from a different world? Then we’d be painting giant, glowing, targets on ourselves. Speaking of which, is there su anization?”

  Myers shakes his head slowly. “hat I kno-.” He pauses for a moment as a certain group es to mind. “The Tower Ecclesiastibsp;may be ied in you all.”

  “And they are?”

  “They are zealots who worship the towers and the true divine.”

  “Towers? What towers?” Quasi asks in clear i.

  Myers sighs. “It seems there is much to expin. How about we speak inside where I sit.”

  “Will the ship be fihout someo the helm?”

  Myers nods. “For the time being, yes.”

  “Alright, the's head inside. We’ll talk over a drink.” Quasi decides.

  “Yes!” Cillian yells happily. He rushes inside, followed by Boriss and Irmgard and finally Cy.

  At the threshold of the captain’s , Quasi halts and grimaces at the old man.

  “By the way, your e better. I still smell the blood.”

  Quasi then saunters inside, leaving the old man perplexed.

  ______________________________________________________________

  teran practically sprints across town, his old body ag as he pushes it. Eventually, he arrives at his destination. Guards and crewmembers surround the home with a clear hostility in the air.

  He rushes up the stairs and into the home, where he is met with his [Head Guard] and [First Mate] Kurtis of the docked destroyer.

  “I’m here,” he announces. “What happened?”

  Theices the blood sprayed across the living room. And then the body. His heart freezes for a moment as he expects to see Myers, but instead, what greets him is Raaf’s corpse bisected in two across the hip. The man's expression is that of both pain and surprise.

  “What… happened?”

  Kurtis kneels down. His expression is pletely ral.

  “Someone killed my captain in a sirike. They sliced through his armor as though it was tin.”

  teran gulps loudly. He looks around the home nervously. Theices something that doesn't add up. He’d seen fights when he was younger, and such fights always show some sign of struggle. He frowns.

  “Raaf is a trained [Bounty Hunter]. Did he not try to defend himself? I find it hard that he would die so easily.”

  Kurtis, stoic as ever, raises a hand and points at Raaf’s severed cuts.