Limitless seas book 2, p.3
Limitless Seas, Book 2, page 3
“Fall in, you bilge rats. Captain Larson’s going to put some coins in your hand,” Tarley belted out as soon as he left the cabin.
The crew of both ships cheered as they raced to the Sea Venom, where Tarley had dragged a table out to the main deck to review the ledger and hand out the pay. Larson left him to it. He had no desire to try and balance the books, happy to let his first mate handle that task. He had handed off most of the bagged coin for Tarley to use, keeping the ducats and half the landsmen gold, along with a few handfuls of copper and silver for smaller purchases.
Larson wanted a good meal and a stiff drink, but he really didn’t care to waste money on luxury items like the minotaur pirate Furious Fontaine had filled his cabin with. The nice desk Larson had pilfered was the sole exception, one he had enjoyed using. It would have been more beneficial for the pirate if he had improved his gear and seen to it that his crew was better prepared instead of buying trinkets. Larson would rather spend coin on improving the Sea Venom’s chances rather than a few fancy knickknacks to display in his cabin.
Once the crew was taken care of, Larson had a few stops to make. He wanted to check in with Lucian to see how his store was doing and plan for liquidating the cargo. He also wanted to visit the smith, the halfling Felicia, and work out a deal for new arms, armor, and fittings for his ships. Lots of metalwork was needed, and while she was only one person, the diminutive blacksmith was very good at her job.
If he had any coin remaining after taking care of the ship, another trip to the alchemist was also in order. Larson wanted to begin stockpiling potions for everyone aboard. He didn’t want to take unnecessary losses just because he was trying to save a few coins. By the time Tarley was done handing out the pay, his ship’s coffers had taken a beating.
Funds:
Scales: 6855
Fins: 1107
Landsmen Gold: 1277
Ducats: 3
It was mid-morning and the harbor was already a busy place. Hungry and thirsty crews filled the nearest taverns. The places right off the dock were mostly dives that sold watered-down grog to those foolish enough or impatient enough to not walk a bit farther for a better deal with more respectable clientele. His business partner, Lucian, would be the first stop. Lucian would need to know they were in port and start to plan for liquidating the cargo.
As Larson made his way deeper into town, he noticed a pair of toughs shadowing him for a while. Not one to shirk from a fight, Larson stepped into a nearby alleyway and waited for the two to make their move. The pair followed him, both drawing knives from their belts as they positioned themselves to block off Larson’s only means of escape. Pulling his spear and shield from void storage seemed to shock the pair of would-be muggers. A result of an almost failed experiment at the alchemist’s shop, the skill allowed Larson to store and retrieve items with merely a thought.
“Do you really want to die today? Think long and hard before you take one step closer. I don’t give second chances,” he threatened. The pair looked toward each other, doubt and fear appearing on their faces in equal measure.
“No, sir. My apologies. Just thought you were someone else,” one of the men said, sheathing his daggers and backing away.
“Yeah, I get that a lot. So many naga slithering around the city. It’s easy to confuse us all. Be on your way. If I even catch a glimpse of you two again, you’re dead,” Larson told them.
The pair ran off as he left the alley and headed toward Lucian’s shop. It was strange; Larson had almost wanted the two thugs to attack. Something about his new life and his new body craved the thrill of combat. He had fought in his old life—the brief glimpses of sea battles had told him that—but somehow, he didn’t feel like close combat was a part of those battles, and they were instead fought at a great distance. It was an impersonal way of doing battle, and Larson found he craved going toe to tail against a foe, testing his mettle and risking all for victory.
Once he was out of the dockyard area, the buildings and the people moving about were less seedy. More frequent guard patrols told him he was in a better part of town. Not exactly a rich neighborhood, but a place where folks made enough to see that they and their families had somewhere safe and clean to live. Across from the storefront he owned with Lucian was a small café. Before visiting his business, Larson took time for a meal. It would be a good chance to see how the foot traffic was at the store, and he selected a table that overlooked the street and his shop.
The café was just starting its afternoon service and the server recommended the seafood chowder. It turned out to be a good choice and not a dumping ground for dodgy fish leftovers, as he had feared. A creamy, thick broth held chunks of potato and bits of tender fish, along with a few vegetables to add some color. The chowder was accompanied by a small loaf of fresh, crusty bread, and he also enjoyed a dark ale to complement the meal. His new body was much more resistant to toxins, so he ordered a second ale, not feeling anything after two large mugs of the stout brew. Leaving a nice tip for the server was a must since he would likely visit the café often if the food was always this good.
As he approached his shop, Larson could see that a new sign had been added to the establishment. Lucian had decided to call it Privateer’s Provisions, a name Larson heartily approved of. Glass windows in the front of the shop revealed a wide array of goods, most of which appeared to be focused on household and decor items that would likely appeal to the folks living nearby. A bell over the door rang out pleasantly as he entered, and he was happy to see several customers inside. Both Lucian and his assistant Kipper were hard at work helping guests, but both noticed him and started to excuse themselves from the customers before Larson waved them off, telling them to finish what they were doing.
“Good to see you back, Larson. Was your voyage successful?” Lucian asked once he had finished with his guest.
“We were able to complete our work.” Larson looked around to make sure there were no customers to overhear him before continuing. “The two lordlings were rescued, and we even secured a prize, Furious Fontaine’s vessel, the Lost Soul. It’s got a cargo of steel and sorcerer’s sand we’ll need to sell off. Do you have a warehouse lined up for our bulk cargo yet?”
“No, we haven’t had much need for it yet,” Lucian advised. “The shop’s doing well enough and turning a profit, but so far, I’ve had more than enough space in the back of the shop for any excess stock we pick up. There are a couple of places nearby that I can check into leasing. Are you going to be in port long? If you are, it will give me more time and probably help us negotiate a better deal.”
“I suspect it will be at least a week. We’ll need repairs and upgrades on the Sea Venom, and we’ll need to figure out what we’re going to do with the Lost Soul. I don’t suppose you have any contacts looking to pick up a former pirate vessel as a cargo ship?”
“No, that’s not the type of merchandise I usually deal in. I can make some inquiries if you like, but don’t expect much to come of it.”
“Don’t bother. We’ll figure something out. I may even keep it as a second vessel if I can spare the coin to find a crew for her. I did have a few trinkets from our voyage that you might be more interested in,” Larson mentioned as he started to pull out the things he had taken from the pirate vessel. Fontaine had quite a lot of knickknacks, expensive tableware, and decor items for a pirate captain.
“Hmm, this is not bad. The quality is good, and they should fetch a strong price to the right buyer, but finding the right buyer may take some time. Now, the dining sets will do quite well, as will the linens after a bit of scrubbing.” Lucian recoiled a bit from the musky stench that had been left on Fontaine’s bedding. Damp minotaur wasn’t a good smell.
“Sorry about that. Not much to clean with other than seawater out there. Maybe you can see about getting us some kind of soap for that sort of thing. If I can keep the crew and their clothing clean, it should help cut down on sickness and the like. Not to mention, it would improve the air quality quite a bit after a week at sea,” Larson added.
“I should have some in the shop, but I’ll place larger orders with my suppliers in case both ships are going to be out to sea for longer. My wife, Nyla, has been arranging for most of our stock. We’ve started to turn a profit, but so far, I’ve been throwing any profits back into the business. If you need coin immediately, I can try to figure something out.” Lucian looked a bit uneasy at the fact he didn’t have a sack of coin to pass to his business partner.
“No, we’re good for now, and I’d rather you keep funding the shop’s growth. Maybe stash a small bit away somewhere safe as an emergency fund,” Larson replied. Something nudged into his coils, and he looked down to see Lucian’s young daughter, Millie, looking up at him and clutching her doll tightly.
“Hey there, Millie. I see you and your friend are doing well,” Larson said with a smile.
“Did you really fight mean pirates like Daddy said? If you need help, Lady Petunia can go with you,” Millie offered, holding her doll up to Larson.
“That’s very brave of Lady Petunia, but I think she had best stay here to help protect you. In fact, I think I have something from the pirate captain that you might like.” Larson had been saving one of the figurines from Fontaine’s desk for the kid. It was a mermaid made of bronze with brightly painted features.
“Ohh, I get to keep this?” Millie held up the figure with an amount of reverence only a small child with a new toy could muster.
“Absolutely, and I expect you’ll come up with a good name for her before I see you again,” Larson told her. Millie scampered off to the back of the shop, ostensibly to introduce her new friend to the other toys and dolls she had surely collected now that her parents’ fortunes had changed for the better.
“Thank you for that. It’ll keep her out of trouble for the rest of the day. Is there anything else we needed to discuss?” Lucian asked. “If not, I’ll see about storing the iron and sorcerer’s sand. Might I suggest you see the blacksmith Felicia about that? She’s given us a fair price on any metalwork we’ve needed for the shop, mostly repairs to tableware and the like, but I’m sure you’ll need something more up her alley.”
“Aye, my crew and officers will keep you busy gathering up provisions. Do what you can to steer them in the right direction so we don’t get ripped off. Felicia was my next stop. We need more weapons and armor if I’m going to expand the crew,” Larson said. The halfling blacksmith wasn’t accepted by the other smiths, and despite her work being skillful, the others spread bad rumors about the quality. Hopefully, they could work something out to benefit them both.
After making his goodbyes and leaving the shop, Larson tried to remember where in town Felicia and several other smiths plied their trade. He was surprised when an ornate coach, something far too extravagant to be found in this part of the city, pulled up just outside Privateer’s Provisions. The coachman halted the team in front of Lucian’s shop, and a man dressed in ridiculous finery exited the coach, holding a perfumed kerchief to his nose as if to keep the smell of the lesser inhabitants from offending him.
“Good Captain Larson, I presume?” the man said, nodding toward Larson.
“Yes, who exactly are you and how can I help you?” Larson asked.
“Why, I am Reginald Howe, chief administrator for Lord Mox, and you, my good man, are invited to an event this evening. The event is being held to celebrate the safe return of the two young lords, and your presence was requested due to your contribution to the efforts of securing their rescue. A coach will be sent for you at sunset on the date indicated. You may bring one guest, and might I suggest some more appropriate attire?” the man said with an arrogant tone that made Larson seriously think about throat-punching him.
The last thing he wanted to do was go to some ball, but in his past life, Larson got the feeling that he had often needed to attend many such functions as part of his business. With a flourish, the man bowed and stepped back into the coach. The driver wasted no time in leaving. The team of large horses pulling the coach bullied their way past anyone in the street, gaining them more than a few curses, most of which were cut off abruptly when they saw Lord Mox’s livery.
“What did I just get myself into?” Larson whined, looking at the ornate envelope in his hand.
Chapter 3
~
Larson broke the seal on the envelope, surprised to feel a small burst of magic release as he did so. There were no adverse effects, so he pulled out the invitation.
Lord Thurston Mox and Lord Montgomery Buxton hereby invite Captain Larson of the Sea Venom and one guest to attend an event in celebration of the safe return of Jonathan Mox and Theodore Buxton. The event will be held at the Mox estate, and the festivities begin tomorrow evening at 9:00 p.m. sharp. Proper attire is required for attendance. Recording of your acceptance of this invitation was noted upon breaching the seal.
An ornate signature from both Lord Mox and Lord Buxton finished off the invitation. It looked like the magic burst from the seal was some way to track the number of guests attending, though Larson had no idea that opening the letter was akin to accepting the invitation. He would have to be a bit more careful in the future. The norms of this world were different than what he could recall from his own, and now he was locked into attendance. It wouldn’t be smart to snub two of the most powerful men in the city, especially after all he went through to secure their favor. With a sigh of annoyance, Larson went back to work.
The ringing of hammers on steel ended any further thoughts of parties he didn’t want to attend. Larson had found the smith district, and he worked his way past the larger and more established shops as he headed toward the small area Felicia Burrowton had claimed as her own. It had only been a short time since Larson had left on his voyage, but he could see she was back to hammering out horseshoes, a task the halfling smith loathed and was very much overqualified for.
“Felicia, hard at it, I see,” Larson said in greeting. Most of her shop was outdoors, including the forge and worktables. The small building on the property was stuffed with materials and contained her living space as well. She looked up, annoyed at the interruption, but a small grin appeared on her face when she spotted Larson.
“Horses need shoes, and it seems that most folks want dwarves and humans to forge the more interesting items. Welcome back, Larson. How did that armor work out for you? And before you answer, give it here. I can see the damage already.” Felicia greeted him with a gimme motion. Larson shucked off his armored vest. The exotic materials had held up well in combat, but there were a few damaged areas that needed attention.
His need to swim as well as move about on land lent itself to some unique requirements for his armor, and Felicia had fashioned something that fit those needs perfectly. The leather for the armor was made from the hide of a dire shark, while the armored rings were made from something called steelwood. It came from trees grown in an area of high magic. The steelwood was light but strong, perfect for what Larson had used it for. He had a hold full of regular steel, but if he could get this type of armor for his crew, it would be a good match.
“I ran across something you might be interested in. How are you set for materials, especially steel?” Larson asked.
“Fine for what I have to work on currently. Mostly, I’m using simple iron to make horseshoes, but I do have a couple of orders for steel farm tools. Supplies of raw materials take some time to arrive here on the island, but if you’re not in too big a hurry, I can probably make whatever you need,” Felicia told him.
“Well, the prize I took has a hold full of steel. I may not be an expert, but it appears to be of good quality, and I’d be willing to part with some of it in exchange for some work.”
“I wouldn’t be averse to some kind of deal. What exactly did you need me to make?”
“Mostly fittings for the ships. Bug Bartholomew will fill you in on the specifics, and I’ll also need more weapons for the crew,” Larson answered.
Felicia gave the opening offer. “I’ll give you half off if you provide the materials.”
“I’d need more than that. After all, you can use the scrap for other things and cut down on material expense on other projects. How about we go with an eighty percent discount? That seems fair,” Larson countered.
“That may be fair somewhere, but here in this place that we call reality, my time is worth more than that. I should also mention that I need more than steel to make what you’re asking. There will be leather and wood for the handles, flux, adhesives, the works. The best I can do is a sixty percent discount,” Felicia told him.
“Why don’t we say a seventy-five percent discount and I’ll let you take some extra steel to make up for the other materials you’ll be using?” Larson asked.
“Fine, I’ll need some coin up front once you give me a list of what you need. Also, I’ll head out to the ship to look over the steel. If it’s garbage, the deal’s off, and if it’s good steel, I’ll need your crew to haul it here to my shop.”
“Done. Here’s some coin to get things started. Oh, one other matter. How difficult would it be to get more of that steelwood and dire shark hide? I want my crew kitted out in similar armor if it isn’t too expensive.” Larson passed the smith a hundred landsmen gold to get things started. From the shocked expression she tried to hide, Larson figured the halfling hadn’t had too many large orders recently.
