#bouldergut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mareastrorum · 5 months

Text

WIP Wednesday: The Fool and the Soldier, Ch. 9 (Shop Date)

The Fool and the Soldier is now up on AO3, updated every other Friday (usually). I'm aiming for Friday, but might bump to Saturday/Sunday this week.

Unfortunately, I'll have to bump this next update to next Friday, 12/22. Work has been insane. Like before, I don't want to rush and get something half-assed posted. Hopefully work calms down after the holidays and we'll be back on schedule.

I didn't post a WIP scene last week because all the ones I had ready were super spoilery! So I've posted both this WIP scene and a Meta post today as a treat. Enjoy!

See the directory for other TF&TS posts.

Why did it have to be shopping?

Fjord was ready to declare mutiny and take his chances facing Avantika, Vera, and Bouldergut head on himself, in the middle of the busy port, so long as it would mean an end to this asinine errand. He felt an itch all along the inside of his skin. They’d spent the better part of an hour checking in with the wharfmaster about repairs, then Vera briefly reported what she’d already stocked at each vessel before insisting upon accompanying Avantika for the rest of the day. They’d spent the next two hours stopping in shop after shop, making bulk orders for supplies and assigning a trailing crewman to finish the request or handle delivery, eventually dwindling down to the final four. To make things worse, the dear captain was a haggler, prolonging each of their stops.

Gods, if it wasn’t for the Nein counting on Fjord to keep the crew distracted, he would have gone for the combat option. Instead, he kept a courteous smile on his face and followed Avantika down the busy road. “So, what is it that we still need?”

“Thankfully, Vera’s already ensured that we’ve restocked on most supplies,” Avantika replied. “However, there are a few items I prefer to check myself, and some favors I need to call on.”

“I take it these will be necessary equipment for our next destination?” Fjord noted.

Avantika grinned, though she continued looking forward as she led the way. “Oui.”

That was Nuash for “yes.” Fjord only knew a few key phrases, though he hadn’t heard the Ki’nau language spoken much since he left Port Damali for Nicodranas. It wasn’t that Nicodranas necessarily disfavored Naush; it was that there were far more languages spoken there that he just hadn’t noticed it much during his stops.

Darktow seemed similar, with most speaking in Common, plus a background melody of Marquesian, Naush, racial languages, and another with quick consonants that he didn’t recognize. Everyone switched between multiple languages with ease, depending on who they spoke to. Most land-based locals spoke an airy mix of Common and Naush while most sailors stuck to Common with thick Marquesian accents. Now and then, a group of halflings, dwarves, or elves passed by, speaking in their own tongues.

This mix of cultures and languages was typical of the Menagerie Coast, though there were unique blends at each port. Novel but familiar, nostalgic and diverse, in every new place Fjord had encountered during his time as a crewman. Fjord had missed it more than he realized, and he wished more than anything that he could enjoy it without all this doomsday business hanging over the Nein. It was strange to be homesick for a home that wasn’t a single place. Stranger still to walk in a place that should be like home and to feel like an outsider despite a welcome.

After a time in silence, Fjord teased his regrowing tusks, not yet long enough to protrude from his mouth, but enough to bother his lips. “I presume we’re going to be divin’ at the Diver’s Grave, but have you done that before? I’ve got some experience. Perhaps I can make some recommendations.”

Vera tilted her head slightly to leer at him from the other side of Avantika. Bouldergut said nothing, still stomping along behind them.

“A few times,” Avantika answered coyly as they approached a storefront at the end of the docks. The front wasn’t a proper wall, mostly a giant gate swung open and locked against the side, with a massive furnace along the back wall and anvil in the center, and a counter up front. A blacksmith of some kind.

Before Fjord could ask anything further, Avantika immediately addressed the clerk. He sighed and kept silent so she could work. He’d heard of strange diving suits, leather and metal contraptions for exploring the reefs for shipwrecks. As far as he knew, they worked a few hundred feet down, but they required a pump and tubes to provide air. Not the most efficient way to explore the depths, but then, most people didn’t train for free diving like Fjord had at Driftwood Asylum.

As unpleasant as they were, Fjord let himself get lost in the memories of that terrible place rather than wait mindlessly. Sabian had also been an orphan there and one of numerous bullies that made his life a living hell. Half-orcs weren’t common in Port Damali, and they’d needled him for anything they could think of. Called him a foundling, insisting his parents must have abandoned him rather than died, and he did not have a memory to speak to either possibility. Made fun of his teeth, jeering that he was a half-beast for his tusks. Mocked his uneven skintone, that he’d been left to soak in the water and it was that the green had bled from his flesh.

When Vandran had shown up looking for recruits to join his crew, Fjord had jumped at the chance—and so had Sabian. Thankfully, the work kept them both so busy that Sabian either didn’t have the time to continue his bullying or found enough distractions that were more pleasurable. Those years were hard, without a doubt, but they were some of the best of Fjord’s life. Within a few months, Vandran took him under his wing, tutoring him in sailing, leadership, swordmanship, and generally just getting along with people. All the things a father would have taught.

Then, perhaps a year ago, Sabian blew up the Tide’s Breath in the middle of a terrible storm, killing everyone else aboard and sinking it to the depths.

There had been no lead up to it. No whispers of mutiny or dissatisfaction with Vandran’s leadership. They had left port a few weeks earlier, when Sabian could have left and sought other employment. The half-elf hadn’t even taken anything with him when he dove into the roiling waters just seconds before the explosion. No hints as to a motive. Fjord had first thought his own survival was sheer luck, but after waking half-drowned with the Sword of Fathoms in hand, it must have been Uk’otoa that saved him.

Then, how had Sabian survived?

That thought brought Fjord’s mind to a halt, just as it had all times it cropped up before. Why did Uk’otoa choose and save Fjord, a hapless sailor shipwrecked during a terrible storm? Fjord had seen a vision of Vandran standing over a corpse with the Sword of Fathoms in hand, and after Urukayxl, Avantika had claimed that he had been a chosen of Uk’otoa when she met him (though Fjord had lied that he didn’t know the man). If Avantika had been telling the truth that Vandran had forsaken his plan to release Uk’otoa, then maybe Uk’otoa had taken that chance to send the sword to a new chosen. But why did Uk’otoa pick Fjord, who was loyal to Vandran, instead of Sabian, who had betrayed him?

Maybe Uk’otoa didn’t think Sabian was worth of being chosen. But then what did the demi-god prioritize? Vandran and Avantika were both personable, driven, and had a strong commitment to whatever path they chose. Fjord did alright presenting that sort of personality since he’d started emulating Vandran’s attitude and speech, but—

Avantika interrupted those thoughts as she spoke, “Bouldergut, you can manage, yes?”

Fjord roused from his distraction to turn and see a goliath stop a pallet on spoked wheels behind them. Because of the decline, the man was behind the cart, his grip on a rope preventing it from rolling down the grade. The massive metal construction resembled a bell with strange metal clasps and hooks on the bottom rim.

Bouldergut grinned toothily. “Yeah, boss lady.” She took the rope from the goliath and slowly began down toward the ship, while the goliath rolled his shoulders and walked back behind the storefront with a grunt.

“The balancing weights are inside on the pallet,” the dragonborn blacksmith noted. “I suggest gettin’ a crane to lift it onto the ship. No gangplank’s gonna handle that weight.”

“Of course,” Avantika said as she nodded to Vera, who counted out some silver bars from Bouldergut’s pack and laid them on the counter. “Bouldergut, just guard it at the dock once you get back to the Squalleater. Don’t try to take it aboard.”

“Yes, Captain!” Bouldergut cried as she left.

Once they were on their way again, Fjord asked, “A diving bell? I wasn’t aware that anyone in Darktow was interested in salvage. Actual salvage, not ‘salvage.’” He emphasized with air quotes.

Avantika chuckled as she began leading Vera and Fjord away. “It is not a popular vocation in the Revelry, but there are a few crews dedicated solely to such ventures. Enough for the merchants to keep several useful items stocked. You said you had experience. Are you familiar with deep sea diving?”

“Can’t say that I am,” Fjord answered honestly. “Before I was a sailor, I did some salvage in shallow waters, but none at a depth requirin’ equipment. Just good ol’ fashioned lungs.”

“Yes, I know you have quite the capacity for holding your breath,” Avantika mused with a smirk. Fjord felt his face flush, and while he didn’t look, he could feel Vera’s pointed glare. “However, that would only last you minutes. The depths of the Diver’s Grave require more than skill.”

Fjord took the opportunity to dig. “You didn’t mention how deep we’d be goin’. Do you know, or are we gonna improvise once we get there?”

“The Grave is only perhaps a hundred, a hundred fifty fathoms deep,” Avantika explained. Fjord was only slightly taller than a fathom, and such a depth wasn’t considered deep sea—surprising for a location in the middle of the Lucidian. “Prone to storms, which is why there are many stories of wrecks and treasure to be found there for enterprising divers. Assuming that their own vessel does not join the ones below.”

“With the blessings of Uk’otoa, we have no such fear,” Vera added with conviction.

“Of course,” Avantika agreed.

“At that depth, we’ll need somethin’ for the bends, or else it’ll take much longer between dives,” Fjord noted. He’d heard horror stories of blood boiling, spasms, skin swelling, burning lungs—all symptoms of going too deep too quick and then rushing back up. Even free diving to only twenty fathoms had to be gradual, taking stops on the way back up to settle the change in pressure. He had a feeling his water breathing spell would take care of that, but he’d never told Avantika he had it, and it was one more way to delay.

To prolong the shopping.

“Ah, you are right, my quartermaster,” Avantika noted. “We should stop by the alchemist.”

Fjord nodded, swallowing his frustrated sigh. Godsdamnit, this had better pay off.

#TF&TS #wip wednesday #fjord stone

1 note · View note