Chapter 83

The Drake sailed into the Foreigner’s Port, its holds full of goods from Illyria. They had been gone for over four months and the trip across the Azure Sea was relatively calm, although they had a few close brushes with storms on the journey back.

Edvard held that it was thanks to his crew that they emerged unscathed, while Mara claimed that Aruna’s blessing may still hold some power, protecting them from harm.

Whichever it was, Quentin was just thankful to be back. She had sunk all her considerable profits into securing items to sell in Lund, and there was no greater feeling than reaping what she had sown. She was practically drooling over the thought of the gains they were about to see.

“Excited to finally see young Wil, Miss?” Bell asked, leaning against the railing as they watched the city draw closer. He had noticed her excitement, and wrongly attributed it to seeing their friend.

“Of course! He should have a Guild license by now. Think of what we can buy, Bell! I’ll be one of the few Illyrian merchants with a direct, licensed line with Lund!” Quentin exclaimed, her skin flushing red with excitement.

“And it will be good to reunite with a friend, right?” Bell asked, giving her a reproachful look.

“Yes. That too.” Quentin agreed, shame causing her to look away from the older man. Sometimes, her lust for profits outweighed her common sense.

“I’m sure he’s fine. Joining the Guild was probably a breeze from someone like him.” Quentin reassured herself.

“The lad has a talent for finding trouble. I’m just hoping we find him in one piece, the Guild be damned.” Bell cursed, spitting into the water.

“Wil is protected by the gods, Bell. I’m sure he’s fine.” Martin stated, taking a place against the railing on the other side of the older man. Dressed in yellow cleric’s robes, the priest was eager to be back on land. Unlike, Wil, he had never had a problem with the sea, but he would be thankful for solid ground under his feet again.

“Never placed much faith in the gods, Martin. No offense.” Bell replied, shaking his head at the young cleric. Martin just gave him a small grin, not taking his blasphemy to heart.

“I’m just glad that we’ll be staying for a while. The Drake is nice and all, but I could do with break from all of you.” Mara joked, joining them. The young woman had grown tanned during her time as sea, and she had reached Rank 4 while training with Garman and Bell.

“I agree. We all need a break from Garman. The man is becoming psychotic.” Martin said, looking around the deck for his large, imposing figure.

“He needs a fight and a fuc-” Bell stated, cut off as Mara slapped him in the shoulder.

“He’s coming!” Mara warned, looking towards the stairway leading below deck.

“I heard that!” Garman bellowed from below deck, before his body came into view. His hair had grown long and wild, matched by a bushy beard. He reeked of liquor and wine, but he was steady on his feet.

Unlike Mara, his power remained at Rank 6, but he hadn’t grown soft during his time on board. Sparing with Mara and Bell kept him in shape, but he was becoming stir crazy.

“He’s right, I need to fuc-!” Garman bellowed, before he was cut off by Mara’s punch to his stomach. Doubling over, he gasped for air, trying unsuccessfully to backhand the nimble young woman.

“Thank you, Mara. The language on board has become rather…salty. Pardon the pun.” Edvard said, walking up the stairwell from behind Garman. The captain was trim and proper, wearing a crisp and clean uniform. His long mustache was carefully groomed, and he had taken to pinching it with his fingers.

“I think we could all use a break. It will take some time to sell the goods, although I think we will need to secure a warehouse. With a license, we can expand our operations. I would suggest hiring locals to staff a shop.” Edvard said, stepping around Garman and joining the others on the railing.

“You’ve been in correspondence with Merchant Edmund in Miquelon?” Quentin asked, recognizing the idea that the merchant from the island had forwarded to them when they had docked.

It had become a port of call for the Drake on the journey and they had stopped and done business with the locals on both legs of their trip. Quentin had even considered forming a consortium with the enterprising merchant, although they still needed to hammer out some of the details.

“Some, they’ve taken an interest in hiring their own ships and wanted my opinion. Although I believe a partnership with yourself would be better for them.” Edvard explained.

Quentin nodded and was about to reply when the Drake took a sudden turn. Despite its size, the ship was rather nimble, and the movement made Quentin stumble. Luckily, Marten provided a steady hand, gripping her tightly as the ship righted itself.

“What the hell was that?” Bell asked, rushing to the side, joined by the others.

Next to their ship, another vessel was speeding forward, its wake from its fast movement creating large waves. The Drake had narrowly avoided a collision with the reckless vessel, turning just in time. From its wake, the other ship hadn’t even bothered to turn.

“God’s Bones! What’s their problem?” Quentin cursed, standing upright. She nodded gratefully to Martin, who carefully retracted his hand once he saw that she was fine.

“I don’t recognize their colors, but that isn’t surprising. The Port attracts people from all over the world. I’ll remind the helmsmen to take better care in the future.” Edvard explained, a frown on his face as he watched the other vessel speed into the distance.

The Drake sailed into the Port harbor without any other difficulties. The docks were as crowded with ships and people as it had been when they had left. With familiar ease, the crew guided her into the nearest wharf, tying off the ship and extended the walkway for Quentin and the others to disembark.

“We’ll leave the unloading to the crew. We need to find Wil as soon as possible. We’ll need a license in order to rent a warehouse.” Quentin explained, leading the others down the ramp towards the dock.

“That won’t be a problem.” Bell said, drawing her attention and pointing at the dock below them.

Standing on wooden dock were a group of four people, a clear space around them, despite the bustle of the crowd. In the front was a young man, wearing exquisite leather armor, with a symbol of a Drake on the front. His white cloak hung down his back, shimmering with magic in the light. On his hip was a white sword, its blade covered by a jet-black scabbard, also bearing a symbol of a Drake in flight.

Wil smiled when he saw them, his handsome face lighting up. He looked older than they remembered, like he had aged significantly in the four short months he had been separated from them. His hair had grown long enough that he was forced to tie it back with a leather strap.

Quentin couldn’t help but match his smile with one of her own as she rushed down the walkway to greet him. From beside her, Bell and the others were shocked by the young man before him. It wasn’t his appearance but his mana that left them stunned.

When they had dropped him off, he was only a Rank 7, and a newly risen one at that. Now he was clearly at least Rank 10, his mana strong and vibrant. Even if he wasn’t actively using it, they could feel a heaviness in the air from the Wil’s mana.

“Wil! How did you know we were here?” Quentin yelled, stepping off the walkway and engulfing her friend in a hug. She was so happy to see him that she failed to notice his companions standing next to him.

“A little birdie told me.” Wil replied, grinning as he pointed to the sky. Flying through the air was his Clockwork Owl, its metallic wings outstretched as it circled the docks.

“It’s good to see you all.” Wil greeted the others, hugging Mara, and shaking hands with Garman, Bell and Martin. With a friendly nod to Edvard, he turned to his new companions. With a gesture, he brought everyone’s attention to them.

Quentin immediately knew they were from the Guild. Each of them was wearing a stylized ‘AG’ in gold on their collars or pinned to their chests. To Wil’s right, grinning broadly at the group, was Archibald Anwir, barely containing himself as he waited for Wil to finish his greetings.

“Archibald Anwir, Miss Annabelle. I am thankful to the heavens for the opportunity to see your beauty once more.” The bard said, stepping forward and giving a flourishing bow.

“Ugh!” Mara grunted with disgust, shaking her head at the man, before looking to the others. Annabelle, more polite, merely nodded at him, remembering his antics from their trip to the North.