After a short, swift travel we had arrived, and the Wild Monkey was safely moored in the Kieran harbour. The ziggurat that constituted the the city loomed overhead, bustling like an oversized, sevenfold terraced, ochre anthill. Our presence here attested our tenacity, having survived the horrors of Torath-Ka and a voyage in a makeshift, poorly equipped vessel. And so, before the lot of us went ashore, we mused about our future.
The Captain suggested we could be either traders or pirates, and I was taken aback at how equivalent these options appeared to him. I, for one, had no particular desire for a life of crime, and its present condition our ship was rather ill-suited to piracy. Eventually, the conclusion permeated our merry crew that our best perspective for now would be as petty traders. The local industry offered a plentiful supply of metals and gunpowder, goods that would always be in demand overseas.
However, there would still be the problem of funding. Mistress Saran suggested that we charter out the Wild Monkey, committing the financial risks to a third party, but that would deprive us of our freedom of movement, and most of the profits. We would rather act as freelancers, and the required money could possibly be obtained from a local moneylender. The others proposed that I should lead the negotiations, and for that they had also suggestions about my attire, which I deemed best to disregard.
We had to find a moneylender first, of course, and Carlton, who was apparently familiar with doing business in such an environment, made enquiries in the lower tiers and eventually obtained a lead on a purportedly reputable moneylender, who apparently went by the soubriquet of "Cutthroat Dan", and whose business resided in a back room of a tavern called "The Swollen Eye", in the Seventh Tier.
As we arrived in the tavern, I was taken aback by the rather mediocre standards of the establishment. The air was heavy and saturated with vapours of cheap liquor, the grubby floor felt sticky beneath the soles of my feet, and the rather gruff patrons were eyeing me with a mixture of lewdness, distrust, and other indescribable sentiments. Clearly, our contact was a shrewd businessman and kept his operational expenses to a minimum.
After a few uneasy moments, a rather large patron greeted us. When Carlton expressed our desire to be issued a loan, the man was amused initally, then demanded some sort of entry fee, or alternatively a private appointment with myself, which was out of the question. After a bout of haggling, Carlton and the man agreed to let a game of chance determine the fee. He produced a set of dice which they commenced to roll and tally in a rather cryptic fashion, until finally Carlton proclaimed his victory,
and the man led us to a back door with a small sliding window.
Knocking on the door, a voice apparently prompted for the passphrase, which I dutifully recited: "The nuts have been cracked, and I am looking for the gold inside." We were let in, and got to meet our contact, a rather plump man, wearing greasy dark hair in a ponytail, and his gaunt elderly man-servant. As we were unable to present a deed to our ship, it having recently been salvaged, he was skeptical, but as I had predicted, he agreed to inspect our ship in person, and we left the tavern, in which a brawl had inexplicably erupted in the meantime.
Arriving at the docks with our future creditor, he agreed, after extensive negotiations, to issue a loan of four thousand pieces of eight, to be repaid within a year, plus interest equalling the fourth part of the sum. This was acceptable to us, and agreed upon, and we could now plan to purchase provisions,
supplies, a cargo of iron ingots, and cannon for self-defense.
At this point, Master Krastus reported that a woman had approached him with both a warning and a request; Apparently half a dozen shipwrights had gone missing recently, including her father. She suspected that the Empire itself may be clandestinely involved, and offered a pass for the Fourth Tier, so that we could meet with her in private if we learned more.
We agreed to make our way into the higher tiers, and stumbled upon the local zoological garden. Established for the Emperor's delectation and funded by the city, it was a rather depressing place, with majestic beasts of the sea confined into tiny pens and basins, forced to spend their time in ennui and sadness. We met a Scurillian who stated, callous as usual in tone and subject, that the zoo desired another exhibit: A bounty was offered for the live capture of some sort of singing mermaid, found in the Crystal Reefs northwest of the Grey Isles.
After the zoo visit, we split up to buy cargo and accoutrements for our ship. Carlton and I decided to visit the missing shipwright's favourite restaurant for further enquiries. Situated in the Fifth Tier, this establishment was rather more to my tastes, and we enjoyed a splendid meal in private, for which Carlton insisted to pay. I should need to return the favour at the nearest opportunity. Sadly, our hostess could not provide us with additional information regarding the shipwright, whose regular dinner here with his daughter had abruptly ceased two months ago. As we headed back to the ship, we noticed a trio of suspicious characters shadowing us, so we tried to act inconspicuous. Indeed, as we reached the ship, they loitered around for a while, then two of them left while the third man continued observing the docks.
As the Captain returned with the others, I tried to inform him in private, but he was too caught up in an argument with Master Krastus to listen. Their argument ended when we spotted some sort of official, dressed in green, approaching our pier with about a dozen city guards. Unsure if these were to pose a threat and what the best course of action would be, the Captain decided to swiftly leave port, and the Wild Monkey cast off, leaving the bewildered officials behind. Luckily, neither the fort guarding the harbour nor the patrolling Imperial cutters contested our departure.
Back on the seas, Master Krastus reported he had visited one of his compatriots, a famous shipwright, who had become very nervous when asked about his missing colleagues, but ventured a guess that the island of Terras, northwest of Kiera, might be involved. Since this island was rather close to our present position, the Captain deemed it an acceptable detour.
The journey itself was rather uneventful, except for one encounter with an honest merchantman, who appeared to sail away rather hastily after catching a glimpse of our ship. We decided not to pursue, but rather circumnavigate the island of Terras, and soon after, we approached the eponymous settlement, guarded by a patrolling cutter. As we were docking, a group of guards awaited us, and their leader curtly informed us that the settlement was off-limits to civilians, and we had no permission to go ashore. I suggested that we comply for now, but the Captain attempted to bluff his way in, inviting the guard officer and two of his subordinates aboard and presenting the pass to the Kieran upper tiers as a proof of our relevance and authority.
This plan went awry rather quickly, as the guard officer was no longer interested in simply seeing us leave, but now demanded that the Captain follow him ashore, alone, for a more thorough interrogation. Cornered, the Captain ordered Master Krastus to blow the guards off deck, and a short and brutal combat ensued. After but a few heartbeats, only those guards that I had prevented from rushing aboard were still alive, while the others, including their officer, had succumbed to the fierce blasts of wind, and even fiercer musket shots. A gruesome massacre like this was not bound to gain us many friends, and so we cast off rather hastily.
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