In the mid evening, Emma rushes through the streets of Breston. She dodges people, carts, and even animals with a graot normally seen by the Gemma. Unlike her father, her skin, though stony, is much softer and nowhere near as thick- but also nowhere near as protective.

  Eventually, she arrives at Breston’s docks- her mood improving a bit both over the run and the resple view she so loves to see and the upti wind as it buffets against her hard skin. In time, this feeling will beore and more muted as she ages- but for the moment. She will indulge.

  She walks to the end of the peer and takes a seat with her legs dangling over the abyss. To some, such a thing is folly without a harness. But many stevedive her a nod of approval. She releases a sigh- a very human thing to do, and then ruminates on the day before.

  In the poorer district of Breston; district 7 to be exact, times be rather difficult as many struggle for survival. But, the most important aspect to that struggle is drinking water. District 7 has a sier purifier that just so happens to break down quite often. When it breaks down, few are able to travel the distao use the other purifiers. Instead, they are forced to manually heat the water before ing it. A rather expensive process sidering the cost of coal or wood.

  “They need help.” she says softly.

  “Who needs help?”

  Her head whips back to find a friendly face. A man. A human man and an old friend.

  “Carrian, aren't you supposed to be w?” she asks the [Stevedore].

  “I’m having lunch.” the man replies. He walks to the edge and sits dowo her without a harness. Thes his bag to the side and grabs a loaf of bread and cheese. He breaks both in half and offers it to her. She pouts but takes the food.

  “You should be able to afford meat now. You if yoing to grow big and strong.”

  Carrian chuckles. “Yea, I could and probably should.” he raises the bread in front of his face. “I’m already indulging with fresh bread instead of stale. It’s going to take me a while to be fortable with spending more than a trist for anything- but enough about me.” he takes a bite of both cheese and bread. “You said something about someone needing help?”

  She looks away from him and then down. “Yea. you know how district seven purifier keeps breaking.”

  “Of course. I grew up there. That damn thing only works properly on the best of days.”

  “Well, yesterday night- I took an emerald, ground it down- and then redrew all the runes on the purifier. Emerald dust is resilient to decay from water- so it shouldn’t be malfuning any longer. But then my father went to the purifier and repced my work with a low quality sapphire.”

  She takes a bite out of the bread, an angry bite to be exact. “My dad has . All he cares about is making trist.” she grumbles.

  “Then he went and called me ignorant. He’s the ignorant one who!”

  Carrian listens silently as she vents while taking bites iween. Only when he finishes his food does he speak.

  “He’s n. You’re the one who is ignorant.”

  “What?” she yells- her heap whipping to gre at him.

  He quickly raises his hands in a pg manor.

  “Look, hear me out. I grew up in district seven and that purifier breaking- well, it's not because of wear and tear. The reason the purifier breaks is because desperate people will grind away the rune dust and sell it. Hell, for emerald dust, I would have been one of the first with a chisel in the middle of the night.”

  She looks at him, surprised by his words.

  “Your dads smart. A cheap quality sapphire? Finding a buyer for that isn’t easy, if at all possible. the most ignorant of children would waste their time chiseling away.”

  “Thats…” she puts her head down, now lost for words and feeling a bit guilty.

  “The [Lords] paid for a quality runecraft before, and ead every time, those stri by poverty and desperation have broken the damn thing.”

  Now she feels even more quilty.

  After a moment of pouting and struggling with her current feelings, she lifts her head up and notices a ship. More precisely two ships ing toward the port. A fgless frigate css without what seems to be any ons is pulling a damaged pirate destroyer.

  “You don't see that everyday.” She points over the horizon.

  Carrion follows her finger and looks at the two ships. More specifically, he notices the destroyer.

  “No! That's the Immi Huntress!” He quickly stands up.

  “Wait, what's wrong?” She follows his lead.

  “That ship. My brother was on that ship.”

  ________________________________________________________________________

  Myers raises the spygss and looks through it. In the distance, he see Breston. With a final adjustment, he steers the ship towards the port.

  Thes go of the orb and makes his way within the bowels of the timbergrove. He checks the captain's quarters and finds nobody. Then he checks the other quarters and again finds nobody- not even Cy. Wheers the mess hall, he is met with Cilliaed at the table. Oable is an assortment of ons and a cup of polish. Slowly, Cillian polishes the ons with a rexed grin on his face.

  “Do you know where everyone is? I o talk to the [Captain].”

  “They’re training downstairs in the hold. Cy is with them.” He answers while tinuing to polish.”

  “Thank you.”

  Myers heads down to the stair aers the hold. He pauses in surprise.

  In the middle of the hold, A fenrimorph is ying down on a block of wood while lifting a metal rod with two barrels of water tied to the side. The fenrimorph lifts it up and down- each time elig a strained grunt with every lift. o the Fenrimorph is Boriss. The man is doing the same thing, except it seems like his barrels arent anywhere near as full of water. Above both of them is cy with a towel. The boy is running bad forth with a grin on his face as he wipes sweat off both of their faces.

  Myers stares there for a whole minute. He watches the entire process, mesmerized until he remembers why he came down here.

  He clears his throat and both Boriss and Quasi stop lifting. With careful movement, they pce the barrels on the ground and then sit up. Then, in a poof of smoke, the fenrimorph disappears and is repced by a cat.

  “Whoo, that was a good workout.” Quasi excims happily. “Da, is fun.” Boriss nods. He reaches out to Cy- who hands him the towel.

  “What were you all doing?” Myers asks.

  “Liftis to build muscle. If we improve our base strength- then the bes will be multiplicative.”

  “He’s also been writing.” Cy adds.

  “Writing?”

  Quasi nods. “Yup, writing. For whatever reason, a fenrimorphs hands are designed like a humans with all the joints that should allow full movement. But, for whatever reason, a lot of the muscles in the hands have atrophied. They’re there- but they are too weak. So, I'm trying to fix that.”

  “To write?”

  “No, to hold ons and improve my base trol stat. Anyways, did you need something?” Quasi asks.

  “Ah, yes. We’re nearing Breston. We’ll make port in the hour.”

  Quasi stretches quickly. “Finally. This trip took too damn long. Let's head to the deck.”

  ________________________________________________________________

  Arriving at the deck, I finally y my gaze upoon. The isnd differs vastly from Arbor, wherein arbor was more ft and horizontal- the isnd of Breston is vertical. From my distant view, the isnd looks somewhat like a crucible with the ports and buildings located around the isnd and at the top.

  “So, is Brestoy or the isnd?” I ask Myers from my perch.

  “Both.” He answers. “Brestoo be a mining town- and most mining towns are named after the isnd sihey aren't sidered perma and will be discarded ohe ore and gems were mined out. With Breston, that didn't happen as the town became a major marketpce for trade by the time resources dwindled. It also helps that Brestos a lot of rain, which allows the mineshafts to be used for water ste.”

  “Sounds dirty.” I ent.

  “It is- but that's what water purifiers are for.”

  I stretch a paw out aend my nails. I scratch the railing a little and enjoy the feel of the wood giving way.

  “You shouldn’t damage the ship.” Myers says.

  I look at Myers and hold my gaze. As I do, I tinue scratg the post.

  He frowns.

  At his frown, I feel the urge to push something off a table. Something that could break or shatter. Something that would annoy him if it happ- “Shit.”

  I stop scratg. “I’m turning into a cat.”

  “You are a cat.” He adds.

  “No- that's not what I mean. Nevermind.” I look away from the man and refocus oy.

  The city's port is smothered in ships- most of which are corvette and frigate css, but there are some destroyer csses also present. Around the entire port- hundreds if not thousands of ons are positioo blow up anything that would e he isnd. The ons are rger than what you’d see on the ships with a far longer barrel.

  “Where are we dog?” I ask.

  “Over there.” Myers raises a hand and points at an area where most of the destroyers are trated. “If you look closely, the dog areas avaible are marked green. There's two green markings right o each other. We’ll be dog the Timbergrove and Immi Huhere.”

  So, color coded. Simple, yet effective.

  “Do we o pay anything to dock?”

  “No, only to undock. The price to undock is based on how many days we stay docked. I suggest we not lioo long.”

  “We’re probably going to linger pretty long. I imagine finding, buying, and installing ons isn’t something that happens quickly.” I expin.

  “Buy? Buy?” Myers and Cillian say at the same time. They look at each other, and then at me.

  “You already have the ons.” Myers points at the Immi huntress.

  “And ammo.” Cillian adds.

  “The Immi Huntress’s ons are reended for a Destroyer hull- but a cored frigate should be able to withstand the recoil so long as all ons aren’t used at once.” Myers expins.

  “Big ons are good.” Boriss adds to the versation while Cy’s head tilts in curiosity.

  “Won’t that lower the selling price?” I ask.

  “Very Little. The most expensive part of a destroyer css is the ship's hull. So long as the hull is undamaged- then the ship's price will stay high.”

  Oh? Well-good.

  “Alright. So the pn is to transfer and install the ons oimbergrove. Sell all oods from both ships. Sell the Immi Huntress. Buy new goods for trading.” I look at Cillian.

  “While keeping a hefty reserve bance.”

  Cillian pouts at me.

  “And the off in search of nearby towers.”

  “We will need additional crew to man the ons.” Myers adds.

  “I’ll head out and find the crew. I’ve already got a guide.” I say.

  “ I e with you?” Cy asks.

  “No,” Myers answers quickly. “We will stay with the ship and keep out of sight.”

  “But what if Boriss es with me.” Cy points at the Russian.

  “The answer’s still no.” Myers answers again.

  “Vhat? Vhy?” Boriss asks, fused.

  “Because it's dangerous for him.” Myers excims. “Breston’s not a pce for children.”

  Boriss snorts and nods. As Myers looks away, the Russian gives Cy a wink.

  _____________________________________________________

  Emma rushes after Carrian as the man weaves through [Dockworkers] and [Stevedores] like a man experie running through crows. Emma follows behind with less grace- albeit leaving a trail of curses from those she bumps into. When they arrive, the ships are docked. A g the ships tells her that the frigate is imbergrove and the destroyer is named Immi Huntress. It is he Immi huntress where Carrian rushes off to.

  When she arrives, she finds Carriahing heavily in front of a younger looking Carrian with a cat on his shoulder. The fat, oddly enough- is staring at all those present with a bination of pt and curiosity.

  “Daveed ,you’re alive.” Carrian says between heavy breaths.

  “Uh, yea.” Daveed answers softly. He warily g the cat on his shoulder.

  “‘Uh, yea’ isn’t a very good answer.” Carrian ters. The man’s breathing rexes as Emma arrives.

  “Emma, this is my little brother, Daveed.”

  She smiles at the young man. “o meet you Daveed. I’m Emma. Are you alright?” She points at the damaged destroyer. “Looks like you had a battle.”

  “Yea. What happened? Last I remember you joined with [Pirate Captaion.”

  “You let your brother join with [Pirates]?” Emma asks Carrian.

  “Yea-well. It’s plicated. He was going to die otherwise.” Carrian expins. “But that wait. Daveed, what happened? Who killed him? Why is the ship being pulled by a cored frigate?”

  Emma looks around and hat many are now listening curiously to their versation.

  “Maybe we should tihis versation somewhere inside? Maybe a tavern?”

  “Meow.” The cat answers as though he is agreeing to her idea.

  “But-.” Carrian begins

  “That sounds good.” Daveed interrupts.