The following afternoon…
Docking and finally securing the Unsinkable III, Vomarian Fae traveled inland into Willow Beach. He was glad to be standing on solid land again. Entering a tavern called the Broken Sword, the sunlight from a window shone on an exquisite woman with a soaring frame, instantly drawing his attention. She pulled back her short, dark hair that shone like finely woven silk. The sway of her curvy hips and the allure of cleavage through her simple clothing held his attention. Her movements were fluid. She visited each table elegantly and gracefully, honoring every guest with her presence. He seemed invisible in a room full of people and felt unworthy to be here, but destiny called as she approached. Their paths would meet. He stood frozen in the room, and not even the brightest star in the universe could melt him, but maybe her touch would. She stopped abruptly, like hitting a wall, as their gazes met. Helpless, her soft, brown eyes burrowed straight into his soul, and he feared she could read everything about him. Time slipped away like sand through an hourglass. Her lips parted, and he knew her voice would be that of an angel asking for a discreet meetup.
“God damn it, get the nine hells out of my way!”
“My‑re!” General Pol barked, running up to the Shagornan Elf, who had long, thick black hair that framed his angular facial features. He wore elegant, dark, well-made, tailored clothing resembling a noble.
“Apologies, Captain Fae, please take a seat. Your first drink is on the house.”
“No need to apologize. Please, you can call me Vomarian.” The Shagornan Elf said and sat at the table Pol indicated.
“Vomarian it is. It must be exhilarating to captain a flying ship. The Unsinkable III, is it?” Pol questioned and sat down at the table with the captain.
“Yes, the Unsinkable III is a wonderful ship, but no different than any other sailing vessel. The decks need to be scrubbed, the ropes and rigging need to be secured, and if you fall overboard, you’re pretty much dead,” Vomarian explained.
General Pol grimaced at the statement. He scratched his chin and squirmed a little uncomfortably in his chair before asking, “I’ve heard tales of the Unsinkable II and the role it played in the Rirorni War but didn’t realize another had been commissioned. Did something happen? Did it sink?”
Vomarian sat back, shifted in his chair anxiously, and ran his hand through his dark hair, revealing his sharp, pointed ears. His skin went red in apparent discomfort. “No, it did not sink and is a tale worthy of telling, my Rirorni proprietor. However, that one will be saved for another time.”
“Ah, I see. So, how long will you remain on the Isle of the Eye?” Pol asked.
“A while still. Supplies must be purchased, maps must be charted, and a crew signed on,” Vomarian said and glanced at My‑re.
“I’m not going,” My‑re snapped, passing the table and delivering a round of beverages and a basket of bread to a table with three huge Shewish Giants.
The Shagornan Elf captain and Rirorni general stopped their conversation and watched as My‑re passed.
“Ignore her,” General Pol said, waving her off. “But where are my manners? What can I get you to drink? Wine, liquor, or a fine ale?”
Looking around Pol to the table My‑re served, Vomarian said, “I’ll have whatever the Shews are having.”
“Mushroom mead?” Pol and My‑re said in unison. She turned around from the Shewish Giants’ table.
The giants laughed at the Shagornan Elf as their leader stood. “Gromp thinks tiny elf be better off sipping some fruity wine.”
Vomarian’s brow rose in amazement. “It seems there is finally a drink worthy of my palate.”
“Gromp wants to see this,” the Shew said, approaching the table and sitting heavily, resting both mighty elbows on the table.
My‑re shook her head and poured three mushroom meads. Returning, she placed one before General Pol, Gromp, and Vomarian Fae. She smiled in amusement to herself. She pushed the drink glass in front of him. The Shagornan Elf wore exquisite and tailored dark clothing. His skin was smooth, without any blemishes, perfect, and almost childlike. Pitch black and shiny, his dark hair seemed slick but not oily. She then became conscious of her body’s flaws and scars on her hands and forearms from bouts in the gladiatorial arena. She quickly pulled back as he noticed it.
“Join us, will you?” Vomarian asked her.
“Might as well. I’m not drinking,” Pol said, pushing the glass full of mushroom mead away from him and toward her.
“Hah,” Gromp said and downed his drink. He then smirked at the elf and waited.
My‑re sat and quickly retrieved the glass. Noticing Vomarian watching her, she drank. It had a burnt, smoky cork taste that took her breath away. It warmed her stomach. Finishing, she said, “Wow, that’s smooth.”
Vomarian breathed in. He retrieved the rounded glass and studied the brownish liquid for a moment. He sniffed it. Then, to My‑re’s surprise, he slammed it back and drank it in one gulp. He sat the empty glass down. The elf momentarily rested his hands on the table and took in the taste. He then began to slowly bang on the table, which started to become quicker and louder. “Of all that is unholy in the nine hells.”
“Gromp thinks it good too. Here, eat this. It will help absorb the liquor so that you can drink more.” The Shewish giant grinned, then pushed a basket of triangle-shaped bread toward the Shagornan Elf.
“What is it?”
“Rirorni sweet bread,” Gromp said.
My‑re opened her mouth to warn about its spicy, hot nature and, if anything, sweat bread would be a better description of the food. However, Vomarian shoved a piece into his mouth. Then his eyes turned to each and gave them a sad expression of betrayal. With tears streaking down his face, Vomarian shot straight up from the table and knocked over his chair. He frantically looked around and spotted a large beer mug at the next table. Grabbing the tankard, he impressively downed the contents. However, though he seemed not to notice or care, three burly gladiators enjoying the beers did. They didn’t seem to be taking kindly to the intrusion.
As the trio of warriors rose from their seats, My‑re also stood, catching their attention. Her gaze shifted to a bucket of sawdust, a subtle threat of potential bloodshed, and then back to the gladiators. Her narrowed eyes and silent command to 'Sit' were enough to make them comply.
After a few tense moments, Vomarian regained his composure. Despite his labored breathing, his tanned skin color returned. He placed a handful of silver coins on the table before the gladiators, an apology for borrowing one of their drinks.
“Let Gromp know when elf ready for another,” the Shew said and returned to his table with his companions, who were chuckling at the elf’s expense.
“Once again, my apologies, captain,” General Pol said, swallowing hard. “My‑re, please get him something less harsh, wine?”
Regaining his composure, Vomarian picked up his overturned chair, sat, and spread his hands and arms across the table. “Mushroom mead. A fine drink, to be sure, but I should have known something amiss about the bread. There is nothing ‘sweet’ about the Rirorni.”
“Yeah, it’s their kind of morbid humor,” My‑re stated. “However, it’s the best translation from Rathiri.”
“Speaking of Rathiri? Who do you know that speaks the Rirorni native language?” Vomarian asked Pol. “Besides yourself, of course.”
General Pol said proudly and pointed with his chin, “My‑re does, fluently. She was raised in the Empire as a child.”
“Interesting.”
“Why interesting?” My‑re questioned cautiously.
“It’s the destination of the Unsinkable III.”
“Where’s it going?” Pol asked.
“Rithakhar, the very heart of the Rirorni Empire.”