Jothan Grey's Story

The fishmonger didn't look too impressed with the new employee. To be truthful, Joth was hardly impressed with the job. Chucking fish around all day, especially now that it was summer, was hardly his idea of an appealing job. Yet, money had to be made, and the pay was slightly better than the last job. If he had any hope of moving out of the stable to an actual human living space, he'd have to deal with it.

Then again, the stable was free.

With just the hint of a sigh, he tried to be cordial and did his best to listen to the older man's instructions. But the day was hot, the sky clear and beautiful, and he realized with sinking dread that the last thing he wanted was to be here.

This realization was made worse when he overheard a customer mentioning excitement over the opening of the palace to, well, people like him. Hearing the guy go on and on about the occasion (apparently there were free food samples and jugglers and fire-eaters and dancers and all sorts of performances) just made Joth even more resentful of his new job, and he handed over the man's cod less than graciously in response, resulting in a harsh scolding from his boss.

He had been to the palace....maybe once? When he was still with the orphanage. He was fortunate enough to at least have been dumped in the center of the city, meaning he could at least see the palace walls and breathe in the urban life, rather than be stuck on some farm on the outskirts. And of course, the flight ships, and the harbor. Without that, he'd be absolutely miserable.

With that thought to cheer him on, he tried to smile a bit more and look less tortured as they day went on and the stink of the fish grew with the heat. Perhaps if he did well, the boss would let him off early, as it was his first day and all.

Hunger in the city was different than it was back at home. At home, hunger was winters and thin stew, huddling in fur coats around little fires. Hunger was peeing a lot because everything was diluted with water, and after meals there was only water to take the edge off the pangs in your stomach. But at home spring always came and things got better. In the city, however, hunger was dirtier, rougher, and more desperate. Hunger meant furtive glances and sneaking around and stealing hot bread and burned fingers. It meant looking over shoulders and being scared of men in uniforms. And, as Kip's situation was looking out, hunger meant a descent into law-breaking with no way of climbing back up.

Kip moved away from the bakery quickly, heading toward a more crowded area where she could blend into a crowd and no one would noticed a strange foreign girl with bread cradled in her skirt. The traffic led her down to the ocean. She had never seen the sea before coming to the city, and of yet she had not touched the sea water. Before she could truly appreciate the view, however, she was accosted by the horrible odor of the fish market. It hit her like a wall. She stopped, gagging slightly; someone bumped into her. She kept going.

Kip detested the fish market. She didn't understand why anyone would buy fish that smelled rotted and horrible. The market stunk of hot fish, rotted fish, fish blood and fish guts, and she found it a rough and noisy place. No one was happy in a fish market. However, Kip didn't want to be out in the open any longer. Gingering choosing an area she thought looked the cleanest of her options, she discreetly ducked behind a crate of fish--awful, stinking fish--and hunkered down out of sight. She did her best to keep her skirt off the ground, but she could see the vibrant red and yellow fading with each filthy moment she spent hiding from the authorities.

It was only after she had unwrapped her bread that she glanced furtively around her and noticed that there was actually someone nearby, a blond-haired young man working at the stand that was almost certainly directly next to her. She began to make yet another sneaky escape, but as she stuck her head out from her hiding place she spotted the baker's son heading in her direction. With a jolt in her heart rate, she ducked back behind the crate and held very still, hoping the fish-worker was too focused on his work to notice her.

Jothan Grey

The minutes seemed like hours, and the hours days, and Jothan hated every second of it. He was bored. And tired. And smelly. And utterly miserable. He couldn't think of a worse job than this, what with the sun and heat and smell and...ugh. Yet it paid twice as much as the last one, and if he quit now...well, that wouldn't help his reputation much, now would it?

The only thing he was really doing was making sure "fresh" fish was on display, and to replace fish that was bought. A lot of bending and picking up and dropping fish and apologizing. He was eventually handed a pair of old brown leather gloves, his own tucked away hidden under his shirt. No chance of him getting those slimy scales all over the black leather. Especially being a heirloom.

A bit before lunch the business died down. His boss started chatting up the baker across the street, leaving Jothan relatively alone by the stand. Bored, he leaned against the wall, wanting to take a break from the overwhelming stink. Arms crossed, the tattered brown gloves discarded on the table, he watched the people in front of him with a scowl and disinterested look on his face, which was only half true. He was really, well, just bored...

Until he heard a shuffling sound very close to him.

Standing up straight, he looked around in the direction he had heard it. His eyes were met with a barrel of fish, and he wondered if it was just a rat. Though, if it was a rat...supposing it got into the barrel....

Deciding not to take the risk, he went to inspect it...

...and was very surprised to see a girl hiding behind it!

"What....what are you doing here??" he exclaimed, nearly shouted. He looked up across the street, his boss looking directly at him. Immediately he went back to the wall, looking everywhere but him. After a few seconds, the boss went back to talking.

With a sigh of relief he turned back to behind the barrel at the dark-skinned girl, oddly dressed in bright colors. She had...beads in her hair? Weird. "I mean it," he repeated, softer but not necessarily gentler, "What are you doing here?" Though a second glance-over revealed the bread and his answer.


Cordelia Mastiff

It wasn't characteristic of her to whine, but whine she did. "Do I have to go to the palace? I've got more important things to do than cater to the Empress's every whim."

The other captain, someone she actually respected in this field due to his experience, age, battle scars, and mutual respect for her as well, just sighed, "You took an oath to the Empress, my sweet. Your ship is literally named Her Imperial Majesty's Ship. Besides, what other "important" things do you have?"

Cordelia opened her mouth, both to reproach him for his nickname for her (one of the few things she couldn't stand about him), and to list off her many important things, but the man just raised a hand. "Never mind, darling. Whatever it is, it will be excused for this."

Arms crossed, she huffed and puffed, but she knew he was right. There was a demonstration to be done at the opening, and the populace was very fond of flightships. For some, it would probably be their only opportunity to see one. Even though she rarely serviced the commoners, she supposed she did have some sort of duty to them.

"Besides, dearie..."

"Captain!"

"Captain Dearie."

"Captain Mastiff, Captain Shepherd!"

"Dear Captain Mastiff." Ohhhh, she could slap that smile off his face! And she would, were he not more than twice her age and a colleague to her father. It would be him to run off and tattle. Though that was something she liked about him. He wasn't afraid of being the whistle-blower when wrongs were done.

"It's not as if you have a choice in the matter," he continued, holding the door open for her as they walked out onto the street, "Now, go get the Cormorant."

"The Cormorant??" Cordelia exclaimed, "Excuse me, Shepherd, but last I remembered, we weren't trying to kill the populace with this demonstration!"

"She may be old, Cordelia, but she's sturdy. Like your father and me."

"She creaks with every step," Cordelia muttered, but there was a small smile on her face.

Shepherd just winked, "That's part of the novelty, my dear."

The city was full of strangers. They filled the shops and the houses, the streets and the skies; they were a mass of unknown entities that swarmed around her in the streets, a blur of strange shapes and smells and faces that cried and smiled and shouted. The sheer number of strangers that pressed around her each day had the enormity of the sky, vast and incomprehensible. Their nameless faces merged together, individuality replaced by the crowd.

Suddenly, Kip found that the outcome of the next few minutes of her life had become dependent on the actions of one of these strangers. When he yelled, she nearly jumped to her feet and ran away at that instant. He walked away, though, so Kip remained in her hiding spot and waited to make sure all eyes had turned away. She was already posed to leave when the fish-seller returned. She appraised him defensively, her body coiled and taught, ready to spring at the slightest provocation.

If before he hadn't understood why she was hiding, or who she was hiding from, she wasn't going to take the chance that he soon wouldn't. Gingerly, she used her skirt to protect her hands from the heat as the crust of the bread broke with a satisfying crunch and she tore the roll in half.

"Take this, please," she said, thrusting the bread at the fish-seller. Steam rose from the fluffy interior, and Kip's stomach stabbed her with a pang of hunger. "Just don't tell them I'm here." She would have to deal with worse than hunger if she was caught for her crime. Prison was a dangerous place for anyone.

Jothan looked at the bread, confused. Was this supposed to be a bribe? Make sure she didn't get caught.

Uncharacteristically, at least with strangers, a small smile spread on his face, and he snorted lightly. "Keep it," he said with a wave, "And don't worry, I won't tell. But if you get caught, that's on you."

Hardly two seconds after his last words, his boss decided to return. Standing up straight and trying to look busy, he wondered if it was clear that he wasn't 100% into his job. Half his mind was a bit worried about the girl. He had been in that situation before. Not the best. If she was smart, she'd eat all of the bread now, while it was still hot and good. No sense in saving it if she got caught. Then she'd be hungry and arrested.

His boss gave him a suspicious look, but was distracted by more customers. Jothan relaxed slightly, but really hoped the girl would stay quiet. Assuming she hadn't left yet.

Kip was surprised, even startled, when the fish-seller did not accept her offer of the bread. She thought for a moment that he was going to turn her in. But then he smiled and reassured her of his intentions. I won't tell, he said. Relief rushed like water over the tension in Kip's body. She really was being too quick to make ill assumptions about the people in this city. Though, she wasn't sure what acting out of accordance with the law said about this man's character. In his situation, would Kip herself have done the same? Perhaps not, at least after this experience.

Though Kip was grateful to the young man, she needed to use the chance he had given her to escape. It was about the only thing she could do right now. Staying in this hiding spot was too risky, as evidenced by the speed at which she had been discovered. And, as his actions gave away, there was someone else approaching. Kip peered out from the opposite side of the crate, surveying her escape route. There were still plenty of people around to disappear into.

Kip ducked out from behind the crate, emerging as nonchalantly as she could into a surge of people passing by. Her mind screamed at her to run as she spotted the baker, though he wasn't looking her way, but all signs of her guilt were once more wrapped in her skirt and she forced herself to keep pace with those around her. She did dare, for a short moment, to glance back at the fish-seller. She wasn't sure that he'd seen her leave. Then she turned down an adjacent road, out of the stench, out of the sun, and out of sight.

Even this far from the center of the city, the streets were lined with stone. The buildings stood straight and tall, if a little crowded, with neat, clean corners. In fact, everything was quite clean. It was as if, with the harnessing of magic and the rise of esoteric technology, the city had been swept into order. There were few living in obvious poverty; everybody smiled and laughed as though their lives were heading in the right direction. The sun seemed to shine even when the sky was cloudy. It was all very different from the stories Kip had heard as a child.

Kip found a darker place along a quieter street to crouch down and finally eat. The flesh of the bread had cooled off and dried out a little, and the malodor of that horrible harbor still seemed to linger within her nose. It was also the best meal Kip had ever eaten in her life. She caught the crumbs on her lap, and then picked those up and ate them as well. She even licked off her fingers for good measure.

A few people passed by now and again, the foreign girl crouched just far enough out of sight to be of no concern. Kip leaned back against a building, finally free from the burn of hunger. The Capital was not always such a rough place.