RP PotHN: The Prince and The Silver


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It was another sweltering day, as it had been for the past several weeks. Argent was accustomed to the heat as much as the snow, time on a ship lent itself well to weather acclimation and he had an entire lifetime to his credit. Even still, with the already choking Leimorian air heavier still for the oppressive heat the white haired elf found himself wiping sweat from his brow nearly as often as the other dock hands. With a large crate cradled at his feet Argent peered from beneath his shading hand toward the ships already in port, as well as those coming in.

It was sadly more of the same. Trade vessels, the Imperial patrol vessels, and a few passenger ships were the bulk of what bobbed in the grey waters. It was a disappointment, a failure of expectation that had now laster well enough over a year that he had lost track of the weeks. His Captain had been a regular in the Leimorian docks; had often brought the men the spoils of crashed banquets that made the city seem a sparkling gem from the confines of the ship.

The docks had tarnished that gem, and it seemed his Captain was among a sparse crowd of pirates who enjoyed making port in the drab city. Argent could count upon a single hand how many ships flying black flags had heard his request to sail, and needed no fingers to count how many times he had been accepted. The docks had become his home, day in and day out. Lifting, carrying, lifting again. Argent was no stranger to hard work, and rarely complained about sweat on his brow.

He wasn’t keen on the state of his wages, though. As if called by the thought his manager scurried over. With sharp, angular features and mousy grey hair Argent wasn’t sure if the man was some kind of rat-kin or something else entirely, but he knew he was a pain in his ass.

”Sitting around again, Silver?” The ratty man’s voice was as high pitched as one would have expected of his appearance, shrill and whiny with an unwarranted arrogance that sometimes drove Argent into a near scowl. ”Get off yer lazy ass and help out at dock fourteen. I’ll be cutting your pay in half this month if that cargo isn’t loaded up by sundown.

Argent nodded silently, though a soft sigh passed between his lips as he lifted the box he had been carrying once again. A glance at the sky told him that noon had come and gone, and he would only have a handful of hours to complete the job. It was far more than likely that he would be losing half of his wages again, which were already half of what he should have been making for the meager meals and pile of hay he had been given as an excuse for a bed.

After turning the wooden box over to the nearest worker Argent made his way to dock fourteen, a pale schooner that spoke of speed in her lines. A beautiful ship, if Argent had ever seen one. Probably owned by some noble of some sort, by its well kept timbers. Though a smaller ship Argent still had to crane his neck to spy the name from the gangway, tilting precariously with another box in his hands to make it out.

Cloud Cutter

It was pretty, fitting for an airship just as his old ship’s name had been. Whoever had chosen the name obviously chose it with some care, for the ship at least. In another life he might have sought work aboard such a ship. A life without blood on his hands. The life his Captain had, for some reason, thought he could run to.

It was a shame the Cloud Cutter wasn’t a home to brigands and thieves like Argent.