Sitting on Myers shoulder, my gaze is glued on what looks like a massive horizontal tornado a good mile in diameter. The cirg vortex of violent wind snakes across the sky, swerving iween isnds into the far distance.

  “So that’s a slipstream. Seems violent enough. Are we going to be riding it or something?” I ask.

  The old man stares at the slipstream with a smile on his face.

  “Myers.” I call out his name.

  And like that, the trance is broken. He grunts. “Sorry. What did you ask?”

  “The slipstream. Are we riding it?”

  “No, we’re entering it.”

  I frown at the violent vortex for a moment. “I don’t think the Timbergrove is durable enough to enter a damn tornado.”

  He chuckles at my caution. “We will be fine so long as I maneuver properly. Did you make sure everything is tied down and everyone is secured?”

  I nod.

  “Good. Let's get into position.”

  With his hand on the crystal, the Timbergrove lurches upwards, rising and rising until the ship is higher than the vortex. Then he positions the ship so that it is above the slipstream.

  “Is there a reason we’re entering from above and not the side?”

  “The current of a slipstream is to for any ship smaller than a cruiser to enter from the side.”

  “Right… but somehow entering from the top is safer.”

  He chuckles knowingly. “We’re going now.”

  I feel the ship start desding. With each sed of its dest, the current grows stronger and strohe wind more violent, and the Timbergrove gains in speed. The closer we get to the slipstream, the faster the ship accelerates and mgressive vibrations. During this eime, the mast sails and side masts are stantly ging to keep the ship in position.

  “Hold on tight.” He warns.

  My cws extend and grab firmly onto his coat.

  Not a momehe Timbergroves hull touches the vortex and lurches the ship even faster as though someone shoved nitrous oxide into its engine.

  Not that it has an engine… or nitrous oxide.

  For several brief moments, the ship wobbles from the increased speed, stabiliziually after some adjustments.”

  I grunt. “Alright, we’re riding the slipstream. What’s ?”

  The old man grins cheekily. He grabs the crystal with both arms. “Don’t let go.”

  My eyes go wide. The Timbergrove starts tilting forward. At first it’s only ten degrees, but theilting tinues.

  Twenty

  Thirty

  Fourty

  Forty-five

  Sixty

  Seventy

  “Oh shit!” I curse.

  Eighty

  “I should have warned Cillian not to drink.”

  Eighty-Nine.

  The ship is now almost perfectly vertical, and the only reason it isn’t plunging down is because the hull is getting pushed by the slipstream.

  Then the ship hits y.

  Slowly, the Timbergrove lurches forwards, straining against the onsught of wind, going deeper and deeper into the vortex. For several long seds, the ship strains against the pressure while the violent air currents batter the hull, draining the ship's mana.

  Ohose seds pass, the air-currents release their grip. We pass through the vortex in something of a freefall. Myers reacts quickly, shifting the ship back upright. Our y degrees turns back to zero. The Timbergroves sails expand so as to catch the much less violent wind.

  Calm in parison to what was just experiehe wind is still very strong, but not at the point of damaging the ship.

  “So,” He begins, “that’s how you enter a slipstream with a smaller ship.”

  I give the man a gre. “When you asked me to warn my crew about violeher, you failed to mention that the ship is going pletely vertical!”

  The old man chuckles.

  _____________________________________________________________________

  The city of Memphis is located directly southeast of the tral ti on the isnd of Splendor- one of the only medium sized isnds that support ships rger tharoyers while providing adequate water and food reserves for the popuot that either would be a problem on at of trade, but the guild prefers to save money where they .

  The city, simir to Breston, separates dog size via the Basket, Fabricate, Perditor, and Navis. The Navis being where Galleons, Galleys, Brigantines, and Cruisers make port. Not that there are many Cruisers alleys at a trade city. The speed aility of a Cruiser and the Maneuverability of a Galley aren't useful for trade in parison to the rger holds antines and Galleons.

  It is at the Fabricate where the Timbergrove has just docked, and it is at the Fabricate where a problem Arises.

  The crew of the Timbergrove desd down the pnk of the ship, only to be noticed by a pointing[Guard]. Which results in yelling, screaming, and the verging of several muards] towards him.

  “Myers, what the fuck is happening?” Quasi asks while sitting in cys arm. The old man grimaces at the question and tightly grips his e.

  “I-I don’t know. I was not expeg this.”

  The crew waits and watches as more and muards] verge- rapidly rising to a dozen. Only when a well-dressed male [Guard] arrives do they approach.

  While approag, Quasi takes stock of his Job.

  Garis Levine: Level 41 [Guard Lieutenant]

  Garis nervously stops approag a good several meters away, with all the regur guards patiently waiting behind him.

  Garis looks the crew up and down, halting momentarily ohes. “Where is your [Captain]” He asks.

  Quasi sighs. He hops out of Cy’s arms and climbs up on a nearby ledge. “That would be me.”

  Every eye turns to Quasi in startled surprise. A few [Guards] reach for their ons on instinct, but not Garis. The man has far more self trol. He stares at Quasi for a long moment, seemingly reading something.

  “What are you?” he finally asks.

  Quasi chuckles. “What? What is but the fun following the who, and who I am is the [Captain] of the Timbergrove.”

  The [Guard Lieutenant] frowns at the answer. “I see that.”

  “Of course you . I’m not questioning your powers of observation, I’m merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a kitten what he is.”

  “You’ve yet to answer my question.”

  “Adequately answer your question!” Quasi corrects. “Because I did answer your question, for I am an adorable kitten. But, if you require me to go into further detail, then you should uand you stand before a superior race. I am not merely an adorable kitten, but an apex predator of all those that would dare stand before me.” The cat flicks his tail. “I have sin [Pirates], giant scorpions, and even a Leviathan. All have fallen before me as is expected, for I am a sn of levels.”

  The cat grins, revealing sharp teeth. “Now, it is my turn to ask a question. Why have you stopped me and my crew?”

  Garis stares silently at Quasi for a long moment, before sighing. “You’ve got quite a tongue sidering how many half-truths you’ve said. But fine, you’re free to have your secrets.” He raises a fioward hes. “I o see some dotation on the bug before it be allowed iy.”

  “Bug?” Quasi frowns.

  “Ioid,” Myers corrects. “I believe the [Lieutenant] is mistakihes species.”

  “Really? Huh. hes, mind introdug yourself to the man?” Quasi extends a cw

  “Yes, [Captain].” hes steps forward, t all those present. She looks at the wary [Guards], gazing at them like a predator on prey. “I am hes, daughter of the great tree, huntress of beasts, syers of the fming sce, and servant of Matriarch Quasi. I am a hytonid, bred and traio sughter my enemies. If you find my strength g, then speak it so that I may have reason to end your pathetic mortal lives.”

  “OK!” Quasi interrupts. “I just said introduce yourself, not threaten the puy. He’s just here doing his job and doesn’t know you’re a Phytonid [Druid]. Right Garis.”

  Garis swallows. He forces his eyes to divert from hes, something his own [Guards] are struggling to do. “Yes. I apologize for my mistake. Your Phytonid looks far different than those I am familiar with.”

  “See, he’s just impressed with your ability to shape your body.”

  hes tilts her head and lowers her body. “I see. I will accept your apology human and will fet your st so that I need not sughter your family.”

  Garis gulps again. “I thank you. Please enjoy your stay in Memphis.”

  He turns around and quickly tells the [Guards] to disperse. Which they do very very quickly.

  As they leave, Quasi chuckles towards his crew. “Well, that was a fun iion.”

  “Da, like dating strong Russian woman. Always want fight,” Boriss expins.

  Quasi snorts. He hops off the edge and into Cy’s arms. The child giggles and quickly gives a . “Alright, time to split up. Boriss and Emma will stay at the ship and protect our treasure until Irmgard hire some [Guards]. Cillian will head to the mert guild about selling our treasure.”

  “Alone?” Cillian asks.

  “No, with hes as your prote.” Quasi looks to the Phytonid. “Until such time you have a good uanding of the world, I need you to follow any orders Cillian gives.”

  “Of course, [Captain].” She nods.

  “Good.”

  “Where will you be going?” Cillian asks.

  Quasi grins. “Your favorite kind of establishment.”

  ______________________________________________________

  Leaving the Fabricate aering Memphis proper, I find myself immediately impressed by the liness of both the streets and all those walking on them. Speaking of the streets, the city is ao the point of having sidewalks for people to walk on while the ter has carts pulled by ox-like beasts with twirled horns.

  At nearly every interse, I also notiumerous [Guards] wearing the Mert guilds insignia. The [Guards] are generally well-leveled and all armed with an unon runed on.

  “The Mert Guild seems pretty anized.” I say from Cy’s arms.

  “They generally are,” Myers agrees. “In pursuit of trade and profit, the guild found that when areas of trade are well-cared for, then more trade happens and thus more profit.”

  We pass by a store with thick gss windows aal rebar. “Wait. Hang on a sed.”

  Myers and Cy halt at my and, giving me a moment to look past the gss.

  Flintlock pistols, muskets, and blunderbusses lihe shelves. “Guns,” I say aloud.

  Then I noticed the price-tag. “Why the hell are they so expensive? I could buy a dozen crossbows for the same price. I mean, these guns are crap pared to what Cillian carries. No wonder [Pirates] don’t carry guns.”

  The old man chuckles. “Cillians revolver is worth more thaimbergrove. It is a ade firearm by the Gemma. As for the price of the guns here, they are priced as such because they are imported. Generally, such ons would cost only double that of a crossbow.”

  “Right. If I was arepreneur, I’d just make my own guns here ahem at a reasonable price. I’d get so many ers.”

  Myers frowns. “The creation of guns is a heavily guarded secret, both by the Gemma and the Gun Guild. Many have tried to produce their own, but all they’ve done is create expensive hand-held inaccurate ons.”

  “I call bullshit on that. Buy a good gun and then reproduce it. It’s that simple. The only thing I think of that is happening is that those who produce guns are being suppressed so that they tiheir monopoly.”

  He shrugs. “Perhaps they are, but I also think you are uimating how difficult it is to produce guns. The materials in the creation, the skills and levels of the craftsman, and the uanding of how to craft every piece of such a on is not something you’d easily find.”

  Oh.

  I gnce again at the guns on dispy.

  “Alright, I'll take that back. If every gun is pletely handcrafted by individuals and not manufactured, then no wonder reprodug it is difficult.”

  Cy squeezes me tight. “Quasi, we eat? I’m hungry.”

  “Hm? Oh, yea. Let's tinue on. Myers, how far is this pce?”

  “Not far.”

  We tinue past stores and streets, eventually arriving at our destination. I look up at the gold-lettered sign.

  The Grounded Gardener. Pub and food.

  “You said you know the owner?”

  “Something like that.”

  Myers opens the door and I’m immediately hit with the smell of alcohol, sweat, a. Wheer inside, we find the pce packed to the brim with bodies. Nearly every table is full. The only opening is at the bar at the end.

  Traversing under warm firelight, Myers and Cy take a seat on a stool while I hop aboard the table. On the opposite side, a young woman with a bottle pours the man a drink. She then walks up to us. “Wele to The Grounded Gardener, how may I hel-” her eyes widen on notig Myers.

  The old man smiles faintly. “Mentara, I don’t suppose your mother is avaible?”

  Without answering, she raises the bottle over Myers head and allows the tents to pour on top of him.