57 Ash 121
The Skyharbour, Cloud District, Kalzasi
The skyharbour flooded with people and cargo alike. With Ash over halfway concluded, there was no shortage of supplies that needed to be ferried in and out of this bustling city. Most of the ships were loading mundane cargo, or at least things Charlie did not personally care about. Spices and grains were such boring things for these marvels of technology to carry, important though it was.
Rather than focusing on things that enriched lives, Charlie instead visited the docks for something far more self-serving. The young mage needed passage to Zaichaer, and there were precious few ships that were willing to make the voyage in times as tumultuous as these. Flying flags of convenience and keeping business dealing neatly under wraps did mitigate the danger somewhat, but there always existed the possibility of port authority coming down hard on those that 'fraternized with the enemy'.
Charlie was not worried though. Charlie was rarely worried! Where there existed common sense, there existed men like Charlie that defied it at every turn. All that remained for him to do was to find a fellow idiot and work his way aboard their ship. There were simple ways to do that, but those were ways Charlie could not afford. He had no interest in paying months of his wages for a flight that would have taken less than a day. Instead, Charlie was going to lie and manipulate his way to where he wanted to be. This had served him so well until now that there was little reason to suspect it would fail him now.
He headed to the farthest docks first, the ones that were reserved for smaller vessels carrying less important cargo. The city did try to maintain the quality off the entire dock, as it was often the first thing wealthy travelers saw of the city, but still there was a distinct shift in quality when venturing away from the main thoroughfares. The wood walkways were splintered and rough here, the varnish long since worn away. The guardrails too were loose and the ropes frayed in more than a few places. It was far from a slum, but there was no great effort to revitalize such a small section of the docks when those funds could better be used elsewhere.
It did lend itself to a bit of danger though, but how could that bother Charlie? He had set his mind to a task, and so he continued on. It was not long before he spotted a nimble airship with a throng of people standing on the upper deck. They did not look salty enough to be members of her crew, and so Charlie surmised they were passengers. Confidently, Charlie strode up to the gangplank, where a grim looking man with a jagged lip scar and a missing front tooth put a hand out to stop him.
“Where's your ticket, lad?” The man asked with an implacable accent. He was bald except for a few desperate strands of black hair still clinging to his scalp, and his hard brown eyes focused on Charlie. He looked every bit a man of short temper, what with the way he stared up past his brow at the mage.
“Oh, I'm afraid I haven't got one. That's not going to be an issue, is it?” Charlie said with such ease that the man seemed momentarily confused as to whether he ought to let the man aboard or not. It did not take long for a look of consternation to replace the bewildered expression, and the balding sailor grunted.
“S'pose it's no great issue” He began, grinning wide enough that Charlie could again see the gap in his teeth. “So long as you ain't plannin' on comin' aboard.”
Undeterred, and certainly without giving any consideration to the danger he was in, Charlie replied plainly. “Well, you see that is an issue then, because I'm definitely coming aboard, sir! After all, you're heading to Zaichaer, aren't you?” the young mage guessed.
In an instant, the sailor closed the distance between them, grabbed Charlie by the collar and pulled him down so the two were face to face, so near that Charlie could smell the man's teeth rotting from his skull. “You threatenin' me, boy? Think pushin' me aside will get you aboard. I says to ya, no ticket, no seat. If'n you wanna keep your skull intact, you'll remember that.”
Relaxed as could be, Charlie locked eyes with the man, and saw his symphony of anger blaring its trumpets. Charlie inhaled, and felt the aether swirling around him at once. When he finally let this breath go, he was channeling once more.
This symphony was too focused on anger for Charlie to do much with it as it was. Even a powerful Trill would have done little in the long run. First, Charlie needed to find an emotion that he could increase the intensity of. Something a bit more useful than the doldrums of rage. Thinking quickly, Charlie cocked his head to the side and regarded the man with a befuddled expression. “I'm terribly sorry if my joke didn't land, sir! I assumed you knew who I was.”
Charlie lied well, acting just a tad shaken while putting most of his effort towards sounding genuinely concerned about his 'mistake'.
And there it was, quiet as a whisper at first, but Charlie could hear those telltale cymbals crashing. Confusion. It entered the sailor's symphony slowly, not yet overwhelming the man's anger. Curiosity joined it too, as well as a slight little inkling of unease. “Whaddy'a mean? You some guildie's boy?” The man asked, voice still as Though the bald man's face had not changed at all, Charlie could see all that he needed to know. It gave Charlie a vector to success, and he took it eagerly.
“Oh, me? No, no no! Your captain must've been busy.” Charlie replied. By channeling, Charlie was able to bring that confusion from the tiniest little thing and coaxed it up until it rivaled the intensity of the man's anger. He saw it on the man's face as it worked, the sailor's expression going from snarling to inquisitive in the span of a few seconds.
“I'm your new bokor!” Charlie then informed the sailor, smiling wide as could be. He released his hold on the man's curiosity then, instead bringing the man's symphony to a more harmonious one. This made the sailor calmer as Charlie stoked feelings of contentment and acceptance. There were still a few lingering doubts in the sailor's mind, but soon they were washed away under Charlie's careful cultivation of his mood.
Bokors were a catch-all term by sailors to refer to mages-for-hire. While magic was well known, and getting better documented by the day, sailors were an especially superstitious lot. They often employed mages on their vessels both for practical reasons and simply because they thought it may please the gods. Negation mages and Elementalists were the most common, with Mesmers being a rarity. This fine gentleman did not need to know that though.
After a moment, the sailor blocking Charlie's way spoke again, now looking at Charlie with a more neutral expression. “Cap'n is a bit secretive about mages, 'specially the places we travel.” Of course, he referred to Zaichaer. While a mage might have lived a peaceful, if lonely, life in the far outskirts from that damned city, bringing one to port was in itself a crime that carried with it a sentence of death. “Makes sense he didn't tell a soul. You just keep to yourself until we come to bad weather, aye?”
The sailor's demeanor had changed quickly, and Charlie no longer had to manipulate the melodies to get a positive reception. Understanding and a bit of embarrassment were the primary emotions he saw radiating off of the sailor now. Perfect. “Of course! Not a peep from me to any of the passengers. I'll stay in below decks, if that's a bit easier for you?” Charlie added.
The sailor considered the offer, scratching the scraggles of hair on his chin all the while. “All the better. Bunks should be mostly empty, what with it bein' a day trip n' all.” The bunks were mostly for the crew, now offered to Charlie because he had offered to cloister himself away.
“Oh, perfect. Thank you, sir! Oh, and be sure to keep this to yourself. Don't even mention it to the captain. If he didn't tell you, you weren't meant to know, yeah?” Then Charlie took the final test and strode across the gangplank.
The sailor did not stop him, and Charlie crossed to the main deck, and then quickly down his way down below.
In truth, getting below deck was part of Charlie's plan to get into Zaichaer without being seen. The crew of this vessel would not have let him leave the ship if they had known he was a mage. They might have ferried him into and out of port, but getting him in front of dock authority? The entire crew and her passengers would have been hanged.
But those lovely gunports, closed though they were. They were just large enough for the flexible Charlie to maneuver himself through. He would use them to slip out of the ship unnoticed once they came close to their destination. This plan would have generally had a single, utterly small flaw that involved Charlie falling thousands of feet to his death once outside the ship, but he had a plan for that as well. In Charlie's rucksack he carried the item he was meant to be delivering to Zaichaer. A newly fashioned coat of flying.
He might have used that magic item to carry himself the entire way, skipping the need for this charade, but that seemed like such an uncomfortable way to travel. No, Charlie much preferred the comfort of airships, even ones as plain as this.
Charlie found the aforementioned bunks in short order, and by some miracle they were actually clean. Perhaps being largely a passenger vessel meant that this crew held themselves to a slightly higher standard, or perhaps Charlie had simply come aboard at the right time. In either case, Charlie settled in for the voyage. He took one of the bunks furthest from the staircase, reducing any chance he might be discovered.
While Charlie was confident in his ability to talk his way out of any situation, but he did need to be mindful of his own limits. Channeling too much aether left Charlie manic and delusional. Moreso than usual anyway. Losing his grip on reality while aboard a ship as a stowaway seemed a fate best left avoided.
A short while later, and the vessel shifted and groaned. The crew untangled her from the ramshackle dock, and the nimble little airship was off on its way. Even below decks, Charlie could hear the passengers marvel at the sights they saw, the city of Kalzasi growing ever smaller until it disappeared entirely beneath the clouds. Charlie could see none of it, and instead retrieved a penny dreadful from his rucksack and begun to read.
The Queen's Edict, it was called. Certainly a riveting tale, a sensationalized, half-true account of a dread pirate that plagued the skies. It opined on her impossible life and possible death, and paid special mind to the zaichaeri vessels she condemned to death. Charlie had a spare copy with him as well. Vanessa would have loved to read what people thought of her. Her new employer too, Charlie supposed.
Hours passed as he turned the pages, engrossed in a story he knew could not be wholly true. The truth never mattered much to Charlie, not half as much as being entertaining.
He only put the book away when he finally heard the gasps of wonder when Zaichaer came into sight. Getting to his feet, Charlie retrieved his newly trailored coat from his rucksack. It was too large for him, and made him look a child with how the sleeves dangled past his hands. It was preferable to dying though, and so Charlie could stomach the small injustice of being utterly unfashionable for a few moments.
He pushed open one of the gun ports, and swung his legs through first. With a bit of shimmying, Charlie was left dangling thousands of feet off the side of the airship. The wind whipped at his face and the chill bit through his clothes. His stomach churned, vertigo taking him the very second he looked down to see the outskirts of Zaichaer so distant beneath him.
Left with little other choice, Charlie simply sucked air through his teeth and closed his eyes.
Only a few heartbeats later, and the young mage was falling.
