The System Seas

They left the conversation there, letting the wind and The Foolish Endeavor’s sails take over. By the next morning, the sails were full, the prow angled toward Quillton, and the thought of a solid dock under their feet was enough to put a faint grin on everyone’s face. Marco looked forward to a moment of dry land, even if that dry land was owned by a possibly evil maybe-murderer.

Although the quest that Quill sent them on didn’t involve any direct fighting, unless one counted hitting a stationary target as fighting, it had been the closest any of them had gone to death in a long time. This had been by far their most difficult trip in a long time, if not ever. Change after that sounded great.

The water was calm and the weather was still besides a wind blowing in the exact direction they wanted to go. If he was being honest, Marco was pretty lazy at helping it along. Occasionally, he took a turn at the wheel. Most of the time, he spent sitting around with the others.

The chickens were recovering from a day-long hide in their space. When they had first come out, they had eaten a massive amount of seed and then promptly fled to the safety of their hidden space. Now, they were exploring their new world. For a while, they had jumped off the edge of the ship before teleporting back to safety and doing it again. Now, they were becoming more familiar with the crew and getting friendlier.

Riv was far, far ahead of the others in that regard.

"I'm going to call you Sir Clucks," he said. "Duke of Eggs. And you,, little girl, will be Vicount Pecknsctratch."

"You know you can't name them unilaterally, right?" Elisa said. "Plus, they are all girls. They need girl names."

"Oh, sure. I'll just check with Sir Clucks on that." Riv took the chicken off his lap and shoved it towards Elisa. It ran back immediately, jumping back up on his legs and cooing affectionately. “Looks like he says no. Sorry. I wouldn't want to go against the poultry crown on this.”

—

It was mid-afternoon when Aethe called down from the bow. “Something ahead. Small. Low in the water.”

Marco shaded his eyes. Sure enough, a dark blot rode the swells, no more than a dozen ship-lengths off their course. As they drew closer, the shape resolved into a makeshift raft, little more than lashed-together planks and an old sail so sun-bleached it was almost white.

In the shade of the mast, a man was resting on his raft. He looked lazy, if anything, his fingers interlocked behind his head as he kicked one of his toes.

They came alongside slowly, Marco easing the wheel to keep their hull off the smaller vessel. As the shadow of The Foolish Endeavor crossed the raft's deck, the man finally noticed them, smiled, and jumped up.

“Heya.” The man waved. "Got any water you could spare?"

"You don't have water?" Riv asked back. He was petting a chicken where its neck joined its head. The chicken appeared to love it. "None?"

“Ran out a day ago. I need less than most folks, but it's still uncomfortable. I'd appreciate anything you could spare,” the man answered back.

Marco's trust in people was running thin. He could spare some for woman-on-island-who-helps-with-shopping but everyone else was suspect by default out here. The guy looked weak and friendly, but looks were often deceiving. At the same time, he didn't want to just leave the random man out here to dry out until he was a dead piece of sailor leather. He looked to Elisa for a middle solution.

“What's the safest way?” Marco asked.

"On board the ship, believe it or not. We are much stronger here. Make him carry the barrels." She looked over at the man. "You are okay with that?"

"Ma'am, I'd be okay with doing a little song and dance on top of all that, if it's what you wanted. And I'd still be thankful after. Being careful is good."

They wasted no time tossing a rope ladder over. The man climbed up, eagerly accepting a glass of water from Aethe and draining it in big mouthfuls. The sight made Marco trust his story a little more, if not entirely.

“Name’s Jorin,” he said between gulps. “Been out here… I don’t know. Months.”

"Lost your ship?" Riv asked. "Must have been hard."

The man laughed. "No, no. This is my ship. I'm a Rafter."

"Really?" Riv stood up, looking at the ramshackle craft with new admiration. "That's not much to trust your life too."

"It's more than it looks like. I can hold a lot of goods, and the class forces most monsters not to notice me. I can go safely almost anywhere."

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"What about pirates?" Aethe asked. "No offense, but you don't look very tough."

"Rafters can't take their goods out of their hold under duress. It's a whole thing. It makes us not worth robbing, for the most part. I'm only worth the experience sinking my raft would give, and that's not much. Most would rather trade."

"We do like trade," Marco said. "Does this water thing have to be pure charity?"

"I don't see why." The man's eyes scanned the deck. "Here, check these out."

A barrel materialized on the deck. Marco tried to put his hand on it and found it went straight through, like the barrel itself wasn't really there.

"Magic barrels?" he asked.

"No. A demonstration. It lets me show you things without taking them out of my hold. Anti-robbery skills, remember?" Jorin made a small hand motion, and the lid of the barrel disappeared, revealing cannon shot. "Take a look."