The Heimwind glided smoothly over the ocean, its deck swaying gently with each wave. The water crashed rhythmically against the ship, creating a soothing sound like a lullaby.
The day watch and the passengers have turned in for the night. The occasional lantern swayed in the darkness, casting moving shadows across the wooden deck. The hum of quiet voices, punctuated now and then by the footfalls of the night watch crew, broke the ship's tranquil rhythm.
Cecil stood alone at the bow, his coat shifting from the subtle breeze as he stared upwards towards the night sky, his monocle glinting as it caught the moonlight.
High above, the twin moons hung like watchful eyes in the starry night sky. The Pale Moon, a slender crescent, barely illuminating the clouds. It glowed with a faint, silvery light, cool and ancient like a ghost behind the clouds. Its twin, the Azure Moon, shone beside it like a sapphire set in velvet. Unlike its paler sibling, the Azure Moon neither waned nor waxed. It remained ever full, an eternal jewel fixed into the night sky.
Cecil adjusted his monocle, settling it neatly over his right eye. His fingers lingered for a moment on the rim, eyes never leaving the twin moons.
Ripley wasn't here with him.
They had parted at the Academy, their paths always crossing and separating like clockwork gears. The old dwarf was likely well on his way back to his home in Din'canhwyll by now.
Cecil was alone again. Alone with the sea, the stars, and strangers.
With a quiet breath, he drew his eyes away from the moon and reached into his coat withdrawing the letter. The red wax glinted dully in the swaying lantern light, stamped with that familiar M above a smaller V.
Cecil turned it over in his hand once, then again. With deliberate care, he unsheathed his dagger and slipped the blade beneath the envelope's flap, taking care not to break the seal as he sliced it open.
He pulled out the folded parchment and held it between gloved fingers, he read:
Dear Caecilius Draco Hollows,
You are hereby formally invited to the Masquerade party hosted by the Velgrave Family located in the Virewood Estate in the Noctis District of Stella City.
The party begins at 9 p.m. on the 17th of the 5th month. Please present this letter to the guards upon arrival. Formal attire and proper naming are required for entrance.
Signed,
Sr. Clock
Cecil narrowed his eyes at the letter before slipping it back into the envelope and settled the envelope back into his coat pocket.
'Stella City. Of course. Declining was never truly on the table, was it? Again. I should've known he would have planned for this.' Cecil's brow furrowed in thought.
Cecil's gaze returned to the stars above.
"Power always comes at a price. Are my desires worth it? Hm… what a strange question." he murmured.
He turned, as he descended the wooden stairs that led below deck.
The air grew thicker with the scent of damp wood mingled with the musk of too many bodies in too tight a space. Hammocks rocked gently with the ship's motion as snores filled the dark.
Cecil ignored them all, finding an unclaimed hammock, setting his suitcase down beside it with care. He rested his cane against the wall, then unbuckled his revolver and dagger, slipping both beneath his pillow.
For a few minutes, he simply sat, hunched forward, his fingers tracing the rim of his monocle. The soft lanternlight flickered across the lens, casting gold across the shadows.
Finally, he slipped the monocle into his suitcase, latched it closed, and eased himself into the swaying fabric, staring at the swaying hammock above him.
The ship creaked and groaned, and beneath that, the sea whispered against its hull. Cecil shut his eyes letting the sound lull his thoughts as he slowly drifted off to sleep.
—
The chime of bells and muffled shouting stirred Cecil from slumber.
Cecil stayed laying for a few moments before pushing himself up without a sound, as he blinked the last vestiges of sleep away. Soft golden light filtered through the overhead grating, casting latticework on the wooden planks.
Around him, passengers shifted in their hammocks, some still half-asleep, others already chatting quietly with bunkmates or chewing through breakfast: scones, dried fruit, salted meats.
Cecil stood, brushing out the folds in his coat. He holstered his weaponry under his coat before retrieving his monocle from the suitcase, fitting it into its rightful place. Grabbing his cane and suitcase, he stepped into the crowd and began making his way toward the deck above, giving curt nods to students and faculty members he passed.
As he reached the deck, he walked towards the ship's bow, making sure to not interfere with the crew's rhythm.
Ahead lay Grandport City, stretching along the horizon. The easternmost city on the western continent, the first and currently only settlement on the western continent to be accepted into the Confederation of Free Cities. The center of commerce between the two continents, a place where everything passed through but nothing stayed for long.
The harbor was buzzing with activity. Docked ships loomed like massive beasts tethered down by ropes as thick as a man's thigh. The stone piers were teeming with life: traders, sailors, dockhands, travelers, city officials, and countless more all surged in organized chaos of the city. Merchant stalls crowded beneath brightly colored canopies, their awnings flapping in the sea breeze, while banners of every shape and color danced above the crowd.
The air was thick with the scent of salt, fish, smoke, and spice from all corners of the known world intermingled into something wholly unique to Grandport, as voices rang out in half a dozen languages, blending into a cacophonous symphony of trade and travel that could be heard from sea.
As Heimwind neared the docks, the crew moved swiftly into position. The first mate's order rang sharp and clear over the din of the ship, his voice carrying authority honed by years at sea. Sailors raised the sails, slowing the ship as it coasted into port.
The vessel let out a low groan as it pulled alongside the docks. The crew tossed the mooring lines to the awaiting dockhands, they lashed the vessel to the massive iron cleats set into the stone. The bosun unlocked the capstan clutch, and the anchor finished its descent with a final, heavy clunk, bringing the Heimwind to full stop before lowering the gangplank to the stone floor with a final thunk.
Cecil lingered near the railing, letting the first wave of eager passengers disembark.
'No need to scramble like startled hens. The city's not about to vanish into the sea.' he thought dryly, watching as elbows fly and boots clatter down the gangplank in a rush. A wry smirk tugged at his lips.
When the tide of bodies finally thinned, he stepped forward. With his suitcase in one hand and cane in the other, he calmly crossed the gangplank and set foot on the weathered stones of Grandport.
The city unfolded around him in a flurry of motion and noise as he moved through its winding streets, each step carrying him further from the harbor. The clamor of the port gave way to the layered sounds of city life, shouted greetings, the creak of wagon wheels, the chatter of tourists.
Merchants called out from beneath vibrant canopies, hawking wares with excessive theatrical flair.
"Spiced Emberfruit from the cliffs of the Varethorne Kingdom! Crack them open and roast them over an open flame to taste their meaty flavor for the low price of 10 Copper Leptans!"
"Wine from Yquik's finest vineyards. We have various brands from Kréas & Nectar and their gentle and alluring Elysian Rosé to Thymós Vineyards and their rich and robust Aegis Red!"
Workers hauled crates and carts over the cobbled roads, sweat glistening on sun-darkened brows. Children darted through the chaos with wild laughter, weaving between legs and barrels like living winds. Cecil's eyes lingered briefly on a pair of siblings tumbling through a game of tag before he turned away, weaving through the crowd with silent precision, his pace steady and unrushed.
He was heading toward the Forum, Grandport's heart, a central space acting both as its largest marketplace and main gathering hub.
The closer he came, the denser the crowd grew. The air thickened with even more scents to the point it would almost be nauseating to someone who wasn't used to such things. Street musicians played from every corner, their melodies overlapping into an unintentionally kind of harmony. And through it all, more vendors cried their pitches vying for attention:
"Textiles straight from the Silver Capital of the Crescent Archipelago! Come and feel the luxury of the Sangrella Dynasty!"
Cecil ignored the hawkers, slipping through the crowd like a shadow toward the towering port schedule board at the Forum's edge. Its surface is made of heavy darkwood and iron hinges. Dozens of thick wooden plaques hung in meticulous rows, each etched with the name of a ship, its dock, destination, classification, and departure time. Dockworkers moved among them with long hooked poles, swapping placards in and out as new ships arrived or set sail.
Copper Finch - Dock 7C Northern Side - Destination: Tirnalee Kingdom, Rivertown of Cindralis - Vessel Type: Mercantile - Departure: 28th of Zamrundel
Heimwind - Dock A5 Eastern Side - Destination: Ludovic Academy - Vessel Type Passenger - Departure: 1st of Tudoria
Jewelion - Dock: 3A South Side - Destination: Luris Democracy, City of Virelin - Vessel Type: Passenger - Departure: 1st of Tudoria
Cecil skimmed over the names without pause, his gaze momentarily brushing the familiar vessel before continuing. Toward the corner of the board, a separate cluster of plaques caught his attention.
The following vessels have had their departure postponed until after the Charterlight Festival:
Whisperwake - Dock: 1B Northern Side - Destination: Novis Empire, City of Stella - Vessel Type: Passenger - Departure: TBA
'Postponed. Just my luck.' He sighed internally. 'If it was enough to delay the departure, then the festival can't be too far off.'
He turned from the board with practiced indifference.
'Since I'll be staying in Grandport for the coming days, I'd best handle the essentials first: lodging, and food. Once that's settled, I'll look into sourcing Blinkwolf Eyes, hopefully mystics of Grandport would have them in stock. And I must admit, this Charterlight Festival has piqued my interest, and curiosity warrants a few questions, once everything else is in order.'
Leaving the clamor of the Forum behind, he stepped into one of the narrower side streets of the city. The noise of bartering, music, and shouting faded into the background as stone-paved boulevards gave way to uneven flagstones and tight corridors. The stone avenues of the main streets gave way to a network of winding paths, each with its own rhythm of life.
Cecil moved through the city's veins with purpose, suitcase in hand, and cane tapping in measured rhythm with each step he took.
The buildings around him grew taller the deeper he went, their stone foundations and timber-framed upper floors their colors muted by salt, sea, and time. Ivy snaked up the walls like veins on old skin. Hanging signs swung gently on rusted iron brackets, many bearing simple pictograms for the illiterate or those too drunk to read.
Cecil's eyes darted over each establishment he passed, analyzing them.
'Too loud. Too crowded. That one? Practically an invitation for disaster.'
He wasn't looking for luxury, even if he was this would be the wrong place. Just a room quiet and secure enough not to require sleeping with one eye open and one hand on the revolver under his pillow.
Cecil continued walking for awhile before reaching a crossroads, he paused beneath a weathered street marker nailed to the corner of a building:
→ Stonehall Row
← Widdershins Alley
Neither name meant anything to him. With a quiet sigh, he toyed with the rim of his monocle, then turned left down Widdershins Alley and deeper into the city. The path narrowed again, walls closing in tight. Worn stone steps dipped between two crooked buildings. As he descended, the faint scent of herbs wafted from somewhere nearby, a notable shift from the tangy breeze of brine.
Cecil moved cautiously, each footfall echoing softly against the steps. The silence of the alley gave way to a quieter kind of commerce, a sharp departure from the Forums.
At the base of the stairwell, the passage opened into a cloistered street tucked beneath the looming buildings that walled off the alley from the light of the sun and the roar of daily life in the city.
Shops lined both sides, with their doors propped open and windows filled with bundles of herbs, dried flowers, colored powders, and strange charms. Symbols etched in chalk or paint adorned doorways and awnings.
'Well,' Cecil mused dryly, gaze drifting from shop to shop, 'no shortage of mystic suppliers here. That's one thing off the list.'