After three weeks of carting crates, sacks, bottles and wraps of such varying contents that it would be near impossible to list them all, Rassa had to admit that he agreed with Aegin, it was getting old. But it was safe. There was no one hunting him, nor throwing food at him nor chaining him in anthrite to throw down dark hole and forget about. So the mindless work continued.

They were carting furs today from a ship that had arrived two hours earlier from the Southern Continent. They were nice furs too, wolf from the smell. Though the colours were lighter shades than what one would find in Eldovia. Mainly sandy yellows and browns, some even white or red. Much more vibrant than the dark colours of the wolves on this continent. They seemed to be of a pretty high quality, so despite Rassa's admiration of the colours, he didn't touch them beyond needing to cart the large sacks they were stored in towards the cargo carriage that would take it them to the warehouse.

Ebony seemed to be appreciating the furs too, though not in the same way Rassa was. Her eyes seemed to dance with the possibilities of what they could become later. Whether clothing or blankets or rugs. Whatever the case, Rassa was almost positive she'd never get the chance to work with such material. At least, not for a long while.

As Aegin dumped another sack of furs into the cart alongside Rassa's, a call rang out along the dock.

"Luncheon!"

It was a break time for all the dock workers. Only short enough for them to eat something and rest momentarily before getting back to work, but the short break certainly helped with productivity. This was usually because the Dock Managers used this time to survey the work that had been done and still needed to be done, which helped them to prioritise workloads. It was interesting to watch, mostly because Rassa had never witnessed anything like it before. The Token Docks seemed to be the most efficient from what he'd seen. Everyone had a job, and no one job was less important than any other. Like spokes in a wheel, they were integral to the final product, and watching it turn only increased Rassa's interest in it.

Just as Rassa was sitting down with Aegin and Eb, he noticed a new figure appear on the dock, an oddity to the orderly mayhem. His vision sharpened as he ascertained the new individual's identity.

It was Ewan.

Of course Rassa hadn't killed the man the night before, after all, he'd only taken enough to satiate his hunger. But even then, that small amount should have made the man feel at least a little unwell from the loss.

Ewan paused on the edge of the docks, looking around. His gaze passed over everyone present as if looking for someone. Rassa subconsciously turned away, afraid to be recognised after the night before despite his Allure ability helping him to erase the memory, or at the very least make Ewan believe it was all a dream. The Allure as Victor had once called it, was essentially manipulation of thoughts and memories. It was useful for momentary orders, but its true worth lay in memory manipulation. It was useful for helping him to remain in the shadows, but Rassa had to establish eye contact for it to work properly. He was sure it had worked on Ewan, but even then, a part of him didn't quite trust it. A part of him knew that even if the memory was gone in one's mind, the body and the soul could remember given the right cues and circumstances.

Better not to push his luck. Especially seeing as all these abilities were new to Rassa, and he was still trying to get a handle on how to control the amount of power he put into them. So far he'd only succeeded in smaller scale things. He'd noticed quickly however that the more he used his abilities, the hungrier he became. And the hungrier he became, the more likely he was to kill somebody when he fed. There was a part of Rassa that wasn't bothered by this, but the other part…the part that didn't want to be found…it didn't like the prospect of taking a life. Guilty or not.

Ewan's eyes landed on Dock Master Hargreeve, and he approached with a determined gait. As he stepped into the light, Rassa could better see the pale tinge to his skin. He was unwell, but it seemed as if something had drawn him out anyway. Rassa's eyes narrowed in thought, what could it have been? His hearing tuned into the conversation, curious enough to satiate his growing boredom of menial tasks with something interesting.

Maybe this was one of the reasons Rassa had decided to remain in Port Lovolon for so long. Not only did the city give him plenty of opportunity to practice his many abilities, it was also remarkably easy to find something of interest to relieve his boredom. Or, though he would never admit it, to distract him of the nightmares that plagued him.

"He's here isn't he?" asked Ewan as he approached Hargreeve.

Hargreeve seemed to recognise Ewan as he paused in conversation with a couple of his subordinates. He was silent for a moment as he looked at Ewan, then he gave a dismissive wave to his subordinates and turned to face Ewan, "I don't see why it is of any interest to you, Ewan".

"You know why it's of interest to me," Ewan growled, gritting his teeth.

"You no longer have any affiliation with the Token Trading Company, nor with the crew of the Miranda. You lost that chance some time ago," Hargreeve argued.

"I didn't lose the chance, it was taken from me," Ewan replied, "I'm here to get back what I'm owed, now where'd the old man go?"

"That's old Captain, to you," Hargreeve replied, "Using the man's title might gain you some form of respect, if you're even worth it now".

"I don't care what he calls himself these days, I want to see him, to speak with him, where is he?" asked Ewan.

Hargreeve looked at his notepad and jotted down a quick note before he turned away, "Jeremiah Token is none of your concern, as I've stated before. If you insist on causing a scene, I will have you removed from the dock, do I make myself clear?"

Ewan growled, stepping forward threateningly, "Where is he?"

A new presence on the docks, one that was quite imposing. Rassa's predator instincts were immediately drawn to it like it was a challenge. It seemed to be something that had accompanied his unsealing. According to Victor, being more dominant was of course in Rassa's nature, but without a sufficient rival, it seemed that any imposing aura was enough to set it off. It got quite annoying when Rassa was receiving orders to do with his job. The first few times he'd had the urge to rip out a few throats it was so strong. Now he'd learned to suppress it somewhat, but it was still there. Like an itch that refused to go away.

The figure of an older man was the origin of his troubles this time. The man's skin was deeply tanned and his hair a bleached blonde, no doubt from his time spent on the sea if he was indeed a Captain, and Rassa could think of no other title the man would be worthy of. He was quite broad-shouldered, tall and muscular despite his age. His head was bald, but he had a blonde beard and moustache combination. The beard was braided surprisingly neatly. A hat kept the sun from his eyes, and his long coat and boots only added to his commanding aura.

This man was a leader, through and through. Someone that commanded respect from those around him. Rassa, with his predatory instincts sizing the man up, could see no reason to refute. No command over the Mist, nor any connection to it, and yet, Rassa couldn't help but feel a sort of respect for the man.

He watched from an inconspicuous section of the docks as the man crossed the main road to the edge of the sea wall where Hargreeve and Ewan spoke.