GOD GAMES

In the mid evening, Emma rushes through the streets of Breston. She dodges people, carts, and even animals with a grace not normally seen by the Gemma. Unlike her father, her skin, though stony, is much softer and nowhere near as thick- but also nowhere near as protective.

Eventually, she arrives at Breston’s docks- her mood improving a bit both over the run and the resplendent view she so loves to see and the uptick in wind as it buffets against her hard skin. In time, this feeling will become more and more muted as she ages- but for the moment, she will indulge.

She walks to the end of the pier and takes a seat with her legs dangling over the abyss. To some, such a thing is folly without a harness. But many stevedores give her a nod of approval. She releases a sigh- a very human thing to do, and then ruminates on the day before.

In the poorer district of Breston; district 7 to be exact, times can be rather difficult as many struggle for survival. But, the most important aspect to that struggle is clean drinking water. District 7 has a single water purifier that just so happens to break down quite often. When it breaks down, few are able to travel the distance to use the other purifiers. Instead, they are forced to manually heat the water before consuming it. A rather expensive process considering the cost of coal or wood.

“They need help,” she says softly.

“Who needs help?”

Her head whips back to find a friendly face. A man. A human man and an old friend.

“Carrian, aren't you supposed to be working?” she asks the [Stevedore].

“I’m having lunch.” the man replies. He walks to the edge and sits down next to her without a harness. Then he puts his bag to the side and grabs a loaf of bread and cheese. He breaks both in half and offers it to her. She pouts but takes the food.

“You should be able to afford meat now. You need it if you’re going to grow big and strong.”

Carrian chuckles. “Yea, I could and probably should.” he raises the bread in front of his face. “I’m already indulging with fresh bread instead of stale. It’s going to take me a while to be comfortable with spending more than a trist for anything- but enough about me.” he takes a bite of both cheese and bread. “You said something about someone needing help?”

She looks away from him and then down. “Yea. You know how district seven’s purifier keeps breaking.”

“Of course. I grew up there. That damn thing only works properly on the best of days.”

“Well, yesterday night- I took an emerald, ground it down- and then redrew all the runes on the purifier. Emerald dust is resilient to decay from water- so it shouldn’t be malfunctioning any longer. But then my father went to the purifier and replaced my work with a low-quality sapphire.”

She takes a bite out of the bread, an angry bite to be exact. “My dad has no heart. All he cares about is making trist.” she grumbles.

“Then he went and called me ignorant. He’s the ignorant one who!”

Carrian listens silently as she vents while taking bites in between. Only when he finishes his food does he speak.

“He’s not wrong. You’re the one who is ignorant.”

“What?” she yells- her head whipping to glare at him.

He quickly raises his hands in a placating manor.

“Look, hear me out. I grew up in district seven and that purifier breaking- well, it's not because of wear and tear. The reason the purifier breaks is because desperate people will grind away the rune dust and sell it. Hell, for emerald dust, I would have been one of the first with a chisel in the middle of the night.”

She looks at him, surprised by his words.

“Your dads smart. A cheap quality sapphire? Finding a buyer for that isn’t easy, if at all possible. None but the most ignorant of children would waste their time chiseling away.”

“That’s…” she puts her head down, now lost for words and feeling a bit guilty.

“The [Lords] paid for a quality runecraft before, and each and every time, those stricken by poverty and desperation have broken the damn thing.”

Now she feels even more guilty.

After a moment of pouting and struggling with her current feelings, she lifts her head up and notices a ship. More precisely two ships coming toward the port. A flagless frigate class without cannons is pulling a damaged pirate destroyer.

“You don't see that everyday.” She points over the horizon.

Carrion follows her finger and looks at the two ships. More specifically, he notices the destroyer.

“No! That's the Imminent Huntress!” He quickly stands up.

“Wait, what's wrong?” She follows his lead.

“That ship. My brother was on that ship.”

________________________________________________________________________

Myers raises the spyglass and looks through it. In the distance, he can see Breston. With a final adjustment, he steers the ship towards the port.

Then he lets go of the orb and makes his way within the bowels of the timbergrove. He checks the captain's quarters and finds nobody. Then he checks the other quarters and again finds nobody- not even Clay. When he enters the mess hall, he is met with Cillian seated at the table. On the table is an assortment of weapons and a cup of polish. Slowly, Cillian polishes the weapons with a relaxed grin on his face.

“Do you know where everyone is? I need to talk to the [Captain].”

“They’re training downstairs in the hold. Clay is with them.” He answers while continuing to polish.”

“Thank you.”

Myers heads down to the stair and enters the hold. He pauses in surprise.

In the middle of the hold, A fenrimorph is laying down on a block of wood while lifting a metal rod with two barrels of water tied to the side. The fenrimorph lifts it up and down- each time eliciting a strained grunt with every movement. Next to the Fenrimorph is Boriss. The man is doing the same thing, except it seems like his barrels aren’t anywhere near as full. Above both of them is clay with a towel. The boy is running back and forth with a grin on his face as he wipes sweat off both of their brows.

Myers stands there for a whole minute. He watches the entire process, mesmerized until he remembers why he came down.

He clears his throat and both Boriss and Quasi stop lifting. With careful movement, they place the barrels on the ground and then sit up. Then, in a poof of smoke, the fenrimorph disappears to be replaced by a cat.

“Whoo, that was a good workout.” Quasi exclaims happily. “Da, is fun.” Boriss nods. He reaches out to Clay- who hands him the towel.

“What were you all doing?” Myers asks.

“Lifting weights to build muscle. If we can improve our base strength- then the benefits will be multiplicative.”

“He’s also been writing.” Clay adds.

“Writing?”

Quasi nods. “Yup, writing. For whatever reason, a fenrimorph’s hands are designed like a human’s with all the joints that should allow full movement. But, for whatever reason, a lot of the muscles in the hands have atrophied. They’re there- but they are too weak. So, I'm trying to fix that.”

“To write?”

“No, to hold weapons and improve my base control stat. Anyways, did you need something?” Quasi asks.

“Ah, yes. We’re nearing Breston. We’ll make port in the hour.”

Quasi stretches quickly. “Finally. This trip took too damn long. Let's head to the deck.”

________________________________________________________________

Arriving at the deck, I finally lay my gaze upon Breston. The island differs vastly from Arbor, where arbor was more flat and horizontal, the island of Breston is vertical. From my distant view, the island looks somewhat like a crucible with the ports and buildings located around the island and at the top.

“So, is Breston the city or the island?” I ask Myers from my perch.

“Both.” He answers. “Breston used to be a mining town- and most mining towns are named after the island since they aren't considered permanent and will be discarded once the ore and gems were mined out. With Breston, that didn't happen as the town became a major marketplace for trade by the time resources dwindled. It also helps that Breston gets a lot of rain, which allows the mineshafts to be used for water storage.”

“Sounds dirty.” I comment.

“It is- but that's what water purifiers are for.”

I stretch a paw out and extend my nails. I scratch the railing a little and enjoy the feel of the wood giving way.

“You shouldn’t damage the ship.” Myers says.

I look at Myers and hold his gaze. As I do, I continue scratching the post.

He frowns.

At his frown, I feel the urge to push something off a table. Something that could break or shatter. Something that would annoy him if it happ- “Shit.”

I stop scratching. “I’m turning into a cat.”

“You are a cat.” He adds.

“No- that's not what I mean. Nevermind.” I look away from the man and refocus on the city.

The city's port is smothered in ships- most of which are corvette and frigate class, but there are some destroyer classes also present. Around the entire port- hundreds if not thousands of cannons are positioned to blow up anything that would come near the island. The cannons are larger than what you’d see on the ships with a far longer barrel.

“Where are we docking?” I ask.

“Over there.” Myers raises a hand and points at an area where most of the destroyers are concentrated. “If you look closely, the docking areas available are marked green. There's two green markings right next to each other. We’ll be docking the Timbergrove and Imminent Huntress there.”

So, color coded. Simple, yet effective.

“Do we need to pay anything to dock?”

“No, only to undock. The price to undock is based on how many days we stay docked. I suggest we not linger too long.”

“We’re probably going to linger pretty long. I imagine finding, buying, and installing cannons isn’t something that happens quickly.” I explain.

“Buy? Buy?” Myers and Cillian say at the same time. They look at each other, and then at me.

“You already have the cannons.” Myers points at the Imminent huntress.

“And ammo.” Cillian adds.

“The Imminent Huntress’s cannons are recommended for a Destroyer hull- but a cored frigate should be able to withstand the recoil so long as all cannons aren’t used at once.” Myers explains.

“Big cannons are good.” Boriss adds to the conversation while Clay’s head tilts in curiosity.

“Won’t that lower the selling price?” I ask.

“Very Little. The most expensive part of a destroyer class is the ship's hull. So long as the hull is undamaged- then the ship's price will stay high.”

Oh? Well-good.

“Alright. So the plan is to transfer and install the cannons on the Timbergrove. Sell all our goods from both ships. Sell the Imminent Huntress. Buy new goods for trading.” I look at Cillian.

“While keeping a hefty reserve balance.”

Cillian pouts at me.

“And then set off in search of nearby towers.”

“We will need additional crew to man the cannons.” Myers adds.

“I’ll head out and find the crew. I’ve already got a guide.” I say.

“Can I come with you?” Clay asks.

“No,” Myers answers quickly. “We will stay with the ship and keep out of sight.”

“But what if Boriss comes with me?” Clay points at the Russian.

“The answer’s still no.” Myers answers again.

“Vhat? Vhy?” Boriss asks, confused.

“Because it's dangerous for him.” Myers exclaims. “Breston’s not a place for children.”

Boriss snorts and nods. As Myers looks away, the Russian gives Clay a wink.

_____________________________________________________

Emma rushes after Carrian as the man weaves through [Dockworkers] and [Stevedores] like a man experienced at running through crowds. Emma follows behind with less grace- leaving a trail of curses from those she pushes aside. When they arrive, the ships are docked. A glance at the vessels tells her that the frigate is namedTimbergrove and the destroyer is named Imminent Huntress. It is near the Imminent huntress where Carrian rushes off to.

When she arrives, she finds Carrian breathing heavily in front of a younger looking Carrian with a cat on his shoulder. The cat, oddly enough- is staring at all those present with a combination of contempt and curiosity.

“Daveed ,you’re alive.” Carrian says between heavy breaths.

“Uh, yea.” Daveed answers softly. He warily glances at the cat on his shoulder.

“‘Uh, yea’ isn’t a very good answer.” Carrian counters. The man’s breathing relaxes as Emma arrives.

“Emma, this is my little brother, Daveed.”

She smiles at the young man. “Nice to meet you Daveed. I’m Emma. Are you alright?” She points at the damaged destroyer. “Looks like you had a battle.”

“Yea. What happened? Last I remember you joined with [Pirate Captain] Menston.”

“You let your brother join with [Pirates]?” Emma asks Carrian.

“Yea-well. It’s complicated. He was going to die otherwise.” Carrian explains. “But that can wait. Daveed, what happened? Who killed him? Why is the ship being pulled by a cored frigate?”

Emma looks around and notes that many are now listening curiously to their conversation.

“Maybe we should continue this conversation somewhere inside? Maybe a tavern?”

“Meow.” The cat answers as though he is agreeing to her idea.

“But-.” Carrian begins

“That sounds good.” Daveed interrupts.