“I killed that when I was a child, you know? I couldn’t have been that much older than you. It was the strongest thing I had fought up to that point, and I almost died, but it was a lot of fun.” Seeing the corpse of the great beast reminded him of his time on the skyship, Rosie’s Demise, and of those who took part in the mutiny prompted by the very beast that stood before them. It was rare for Laurence to actually go back over his steps up the Tower. Too many of them reminded him of Cleo, and that ushered in feelings of failure and stress. He could not visit places, because any time not spent working towards bringing her back was time wasted. He simply did not have the time to waste.
“You told me about this, it’s the maelstrom snake right? You named your spare hammer after it. Though I never did understand why you even had a spare hammer. It’s not like you need another weapon,” Jim said, while picking up Ruko and letting her perch on his back. “You know the founders of this town then?”
“I knew them, yeah,” Laurence replied. He felt Fen nervously tug at his sleeve as the boy looked at Ruko wistfully. Without much more needing to be said, he picked the boy up and, like his friend had with the girl, let Fen hang on his back. “I’m honestly not sure if they will even remember me, but it doesn’t matter that much. We’re here to charter a ship and not visit people I’ve not seen in a cycle.”
Peter grunted in assent, his hands twitching nervously. This place, this floor obviously elicited an entirely different set of emotions from him than it did Laurence. Laurence had heard about his rise through the tower, even in his youth, one filled with death and bloodshed, leaving naught behind in his wake bar corpses and burning homes. It did not paint an excellent picture of his character, but the man seemed to have long since mellowed. Despite his outward appearance, despite everything Laurence had seen, something still felt off about Peter. It was something under the skin, something out of sight that Laurence could not quite place, nor shake. It was concerning, but at the end of the day it was something Laurence could ignore. The man was a weapon after all and Laurence would use him like one until either the weapon cut him, broke, or his crusade was over. He knew Peter was probably thinking the same, they were mirrors after all.
They continued down the winding highway, between the rickety wood and stone houses that loomed precariously over their heads. Sometimes there would be a break between the buildings that would be filled with detritus and waste, but it would invariably lead nowhere. The town was a maze of dead ends and mess, as if it had sprung up with next to no planning whatsoever, and that persisted all the way to the town square and nearby harbour.
The town square was far less grimy than the rest. It was more open and in the heart, surrounded by small market stalls was a statue of a woman. A woman that Laurence recognised vividly. She looked older, less of a young woman and more of a figure in her prime. There was an air of a regency about her, one that was vivid in the cut of jacket that the statue wore, but still held that roughness, and engineer’s bandanna, that was common amongst the sky sailors. At the base of the statue, in a small section intentionally left clear by the stalls was a plaque that simply said Dunwu, First Lady of the Maelstrom.
Glancing at the odds and ends that littered the market stalls, they continued their path dockside. The market was packed with them, each stall was selling different pieces of tat and it was impossible to walk through the entire street without stopping for a moment to look at something that was either curious, rare or obviously stolen. The entire walk reminded Laurence of his childhood, selling stolen goods to black market fences, who would in turn remove identifying marks and resell them to merchants or market stalls not to unlike the ones before him. It reminded him of his time in Spirit, and the uncomfortable distance that was between him and Cleo. He never really understood what hat put that wedge between them, but he was glad it had finally broken once they left the city.
As they reached the docks proper they were presented with twenty ships of various shapes and sizes that sailed the skies. Some had wings, some had sails and some balloons, but all of them were made with the same aim: They were made to fly passengers between the floating islands of the fifth floor.
Laurence walked down the dock, looking for something to jump out to him, something to attract this attention, but it was only when they got to the very end of the dock, in a cordoned off area that seemed special did he finally see what he was looking for. It was a winged airship of a style that he had seen emulate by other ships, but never quite catching the majesty of the proportions. It was made to look like a bird of metal. It was ugly, rough and incredibly out of style, but its wear and tear screamed of use and love. There were scratches and scars that lined it, burn marks from lightning storms and even dents from when it had been struck by the creatures that lived in the sky. It was a metal beast, and it reminded him of old friends.
He walked up to a pillbox near the cordoned off area and looked inside. There was a woman sat with her boots resting on the lip of the window, napping in the shade. Laurence assumed that she was there to guard it, but if so she was the most relaxed guard he had ever seen, and he had to wonder what gave her such a sense of security that nobody would even try to break in and steal the ship. Tapping the leg of the young woman, he watched as she jerked awake, almost slipping off her seat, before rubbing her eyes and brushing the lock black hair out of her face. She had a catlike edge about her. It was obvious that she was not beastkin of any form, but there was some kind of essence to the woman that could only be described as feline. As she stretched, she looked at Laurence and grinned.
“You aren’t from around here are you?” She smirked as she looked at the mismatched group before her.
“Oh? What gave us away,” Laurence asked, more sarcastic than truthful.
“The fact that I’ve never seen your faces, the cut of your clothing, the way you’re treating everyone around here like we don’t matter, like we’re dust that just hasn’t got there yet. You act like my grandmother.” The woman stretched and cracked her back before staring Laurence down. “On top of that, you bothered me while I was sleeping, and everyone here knows only my family gets away with that. So unless you have a deathwish, nobody from Maelstrom would bother. Now, what do you want?”
“You remind me of a pair of old friends, bundled into one.” Laurence smiled, “I’m here to charter a ship, to charter Rosie if she’s sky-worthy. I pay well.”
“Rosie?” The woman sat bolt upright and squinted at Laurence, “Nobody has called the ship that in... What’s your name?”
“Laurence. My family name doesn’t matter that much honestly, I’m not here representing them.”
The woman sighed before bouncing to her feet. “We do charter the ship out, but my grandmother and the port authority deals with that. You’re going to have to speak to them.”
“Will you take me to see them? I’ll pay you.”
“A silver shard, no less, and I’ll take you to the door,” she replied, smirking.
“A gold if you take me directly to your grandmother.”
“Done.” She pulled up her leggings and straightened out the linen shirt that clung to her before walking out of the pillbox, “The name is Xingwu by the way. And please, when you meet my grandmother, be polite. It would be embarrassing for me if you were rude, and not to mention, she owns this city.”
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