“Do you have any recommendations for people to join my crew, dockmaster?” I ask the woman sitting at the desk before me. She’s been calm and unflappable all morning and I’m rather impressed with her composure. Her bow when she greeted me was a little clumsy, but clearly not intended as an insult, and, in this world of arrogant nobles and cowering slaves, I appreciate her calm competency.

  After the long, long, conversation with Nicholas yesterday, I feel like I have a much better idea of what my next steps should be. Part of me regrets that Nicholas didn’t broach the topic sooner – I’ve had a lot of time I could have spent planning. On the other hand, I’m not sure I would have done a good job until I got my companions back – which he probably recognised.

  We talked through tea and until dinner when we had to pause in order to not be rude to our host. Pevril seems to be a nice enough chap – affable and enthusiastic about transport of all types. The ships themselves were an easy topic to get him talking as he expounded on all their advantages and apparently cutting-edge magical techniques.

  When he had exhausted that conversation, he was eager to find out more about the principles behind my hot air balloon. He could have talked about it all dinnertime but I could see that Nicholas was getting bored even if Pevril seemed a bit oblivious – horses ended up being a topic which both of them enjoyed even if it wasn’t my favourite. It did remind me to see if Nicholas wants me to have a look at Tempest. Perhaps I can do that later today – we have tentative plans to go to Azaarde tomorrow or the day after, depending on if I have potential crew-members to interview.

  Sleeping in a proper bed was, as always, a privilege. Even if the beds in the inns en route were far better than sleeping on the ground, they naturally compare poorly with the mattress supplied by a lord for his honoured guests.

  Breakfast was a quick affair – I was eager to get the day started. Nicholas and I were the only ones at the table – apparently even housing a Great Lord and his heir doesn’t get Lord Pevril out of bed before the tenth candlemark. Though that in itself is reportedly earlier than his usual appearance just before lunchtime.

  The morning started with a visit to the dockyard to inspect the ships myself – I found it helpful to put images to the descriptions and diagrams of yesterday. I can certainly see the marks of the fire on the inside, but everything functional has been restored and, from the outside, it almost looks like nothing happened.

  Emilia, the dockmaster, was the one to give me the tour, receiving the news of my unanticipated visit with complete equanimity. My respect for her only grew as I saw the way the people currently working on the ship reacted to her – not hesitating to ask questions, invite her criticism, and offering respectful nods as she passed. She seems used to it, carrying around a piece of parchment and pen for taking notes.

  Now in her office, I wait for her thoughtful response to my question.

  “You’re looking for a full crew, my lord?” she checks.

  “Yes,” I confirm. “Including both sailors and support.” I hesitate for a moment. “You've probably noticed that I'm…a novice when it comes to ships. Any suggestions of where to start would be appreciated.”

  She nods consideringly, taking my admission with equanimity.

  “I would suggest that you approach crewing the ships from the top downwards. Start with the captain – he or she can be responsible for putting together a crew. I hope your lordship doesn't mind me saying so but they will know far better where to look for such people than you or even I will.”

  “That makes sense,” I agree. “And do you have any suggestions for captains?”

  Emilia hums thoughtfully.

  “There is one captain I know of who recently lost his ship and more than half his crew to an unlucky sea-beast attack. He may be interested in a new commission. Other than him…there are a number of experienced sailors around here who would leap at the chance to earn captain’s rank.”

  “Would they be capable of captaining such large ships on their first time as captain?”

  “I will not direct any your way who does not have a reputation for competence – or recommendations from previous captains for promotion.”

  “That sounds fine,” I agree. “How soon will they be available for an interview, do you think? I ask because we’re intending on leaving Whalehost either tomorrow or the day after.”

  She considers the matter silently for a moment.

  “I will send a messenger to the captain who lost his crew – he is likely to be available immediately. As for the others, I can either arrange for those currently in port to meet you tomorrow, or I can arrange for them to return close to your departure date for interviews then.”

  I tap my thigh in quick thought.

  “Arrange what interviews you can for tomorrow. And the captain today. I’d rather not leave everything until the last moment.”

  “An excellent idea, my lord,” the dockmaster says approvingly, making a note on her parchment. “When it comes to an expedition such as this, there is much preparation to make. I will have lunch arranged for you while I send a message to Captain Tolly. Where would you like to meet with him?”

  “Perhaps the room where my companions are would be the best place,” I suggest. I understood her reticence for my non-human companions to join me on our tour – three raptorcats, a nunda, and two samurans would be fairly distracting. But it’s a different question if I’m interviewing someone to join my crew – indeed, to be its captain. If he’ll be too afraid of my companions to function, I’ll need to know that.

  “Perfectly doable, my lord,” Emilia agrees, placid as always. “I shall see you to the room. I’m afraid I cannot promise that the luncheon will be the fare you’re accustomed to, though.”

  “That’s fine,” I shrug. “I’m not a picky eater.” And frankly, the ‘fare’ I’m accustomed to is chunks of meat roasted over an open fire with minimal seasoning. It’s likely anything she brings me will be more pleasant than that.

  Loran shifts behind me as I rise to my feet. Emilia stands up with quick efficiency and leads the way out of her office, directing me to the large room on the ground floor where my companions are relaxing. It’s obviously some sort of storage area, but that just meant I could put down a carcass for my Bonded to eat without worrying about ruining the furnishings – because there are none.

  “I’ll have someone bring in a chair and table immediately, my lord,” the dockmaster promises, dipping another awkward bow.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Have them bring two chairs, please,” I request. She pauses for a moment and then murmurs an acknowledgement, heading for the exit.

  Bastet, Trouble, and Lathani immediately start competing over who will get the head scratches first. I grow an extra arm just to stop the squabbling. They quickly melt against me – no longer felines but puddles. Ninja doesn’t demand scratches, but she rumbles with amusement as she nuzzles my knee.

  How was it? River asks, standing up from where she was crouching over something.

  “Interesting,” I comment shortly, too curious about her own activities to go into more detail. “What were you doing?”

  When we were…confined, we needed to distract ourselves from our situation. I feel a stab of guilt that I hadn’t thought about that. River doesn’t let me wallow or apologise, but continues speaking. Enchanter, Smith, and I all shared much about what we had learned about our various domains. Having a steady heat which doesn’t require a fire would be useful for me and there is apparently a combination of runes for that. I was trying to carve one of them but so far I haven’t had much success with it. She proffers the piece of whittled wood. I immediately see the problem.

  “The lines are too jagged – that should be a curve.” I recognise the rune – it’s a stabilising one that doesn't do much on its own, but is effective when paired with something else.

  I know, she sighs. Carving is harder than it looks.

  “That’s true,” I agree “Just keep at it – I’m sure you’ll get it in time.”

  True. She eyes me closely. So?

  I fill them all in on what’s happening, finishing just as the dockmaster returns through the doors, directing two brawny men to bring in the solid-looking chairs and table. Another man, less muscular, follows and places a steaming tray on the table – lunch. They nod to me but no more – the crest on my shoulder is half-hidden by my cloak so they might not know who I am. Honestly, it’s refreshing.

  “Please enjoy your meal, my lord,” Emilia invites me as the men exit. “I will keep you informed as to Captain Tolly’s acceptance or rejection of your invitation to interview.” She bows again and then exits herself.

  I notice Loran looking towards the now-closed doors thoughtfully.

  “What is it?” I invite. The man startles slightly and glances towards me. He’s been very quiet this morning, even his presence in the Bond network is barely tangible. I haven’t tried to dig for what he’s feeling – if he needs time to think, that’s fine. At times, I’ve almost forgotten he’s with me, only reminded when I turned and caught a glimpse of him.

  “She doesn’t act like you’re a lord,” he comments after a moment, his eyes returning to the doors.

  “She’s been bowing and calling me ‘my lord’ and ‘your lordship’ all morning – I figure that’s more than enough. Isn’t it?”

  “For you, perhaps,” he offers, unthinkingly.

  I chuckle.

  “Now, how should I take that?” I tease. Loran tenses and his shoulders hunch towards his shoulders. Then he sees that I’m not actually angry and relaxes a little again. I feel his unspoken apology and reply with a wave of reassurance. No more words need to be exchanged.

  “I’ve never worked in a lord’s household before,” he offers after a pause long enough that I’m wondering if he’s planning on explaining his comment. “But even when I worked for just a rich merchant…. He’d never have tolerated the thought that someone might choose not to work for him. If he offered them a job, he expected that they’d accept without question. That they’d be grateful for it. And yet, she’s saying that she’ll check with the captain if he even wants to come for the interview.”

  Put it that way, I can kind of see what he’s getting at. Indeed, I bet that some of the entitled nobles I encountered at the palace would absolutely expect someone to be so grateful for the noble’s attention that they’d do anything. Any other reaction or attempt to negotiate terms would be met with furious anger and accusations of ingratitude.

  But….

  “You’ve got to know me well enough by now to know that that’s not me,” I point out. “Perhaps Emilia realised that. Or perhaps that’s just the way she operates – and Pevril’s a nice enough chap not to force her to be different.”

  Loran dips his head in acknowledgement, the Bond between us thrumming with thought.

  “Alright, you lot,” I tell the three puddles leaning against me. “I’m hungry. You might have been eating all morning, but I haven’t.” Bastet pulls away without too much complaint but both Trouble and Lathani grumble about losing their scratches. Still, they begrudgingly take all of their own weight instead of leaning half of it on me. Thus freed, I move towards the table, brushing my fingers gently down Ninja’s back as I go.

  She’s been more settled since she reunited with Trouble and overall feels far less fragile than she was when we first came to this world. Slowly, little by little, she’s recovering. It’s an immense relief.

  The tray is pretty laden with food. There’s a massive bowl of stew, a roll of bread that’s more like a loaf, and a couple of side dishes which look to be mixtures of vegetables and meat – one is fried, one is boiled.

  “Loran, you must be as hungry as I am – come and join me.” Though he’s recovered significantly from where he was when we rescued him from that basement, he’s still thinner than he should be.

  “Yes, sir,” he agrees and follows me over to the table. But instead of sitting in the chair opposite, he stands behind me. He is hungry – now I’ve mentioned it, I can feel his own sensation across the Bond.

  “I meant go sit in the other chair,” I instruct more clearly.

  The man jerks, startled.

  “At…at the table?” he asks, sounding baffled. I get why he’s so confused – it’s the first time I’ve invited him to share a meal with me. On the journey back, if we were eating in the balloon or during a brief stop, everyone ate at the same time, but it was so informal that rank didn’t matter. At the inns, my companions ate outside, the guards ate at a table inside, and Alyna, Loran, and Rory all ate together in the kitchen. This is a different situation.

  “Yes, at the table. This meal is too much for me to finish by myself so come and share it with me.”

  “But…sir. You could eat your fill and…and I can eat whatever’s left over,” he suggests, still feeling baffled.

  “Would you rather do it that way? Eating when it’s all cold?” I ask genuinely – some people do have odd preferences.

  “...No,” he admits after a moment.

  “Alright then.” I tear the loaf of bread in two and pointedly tip half the stew into a bowl I pull from my Inventory. I see Loran twitch as he sees me keep the roughly-made bowl for myself and pass the far more finely crafted bowl over to the other chair.

  I pretend not to notice, instead eating hungrily. It’s all pretty tasty, though the side dish that’s boiled is a little too spicy for my preference.

  Moving slowly as if poised to dart back to a more ‘proper’ position at the merest hint from me, Loran slides into the chair. It takes him a moment longer to pick up the bread, and even longer than that to actually start eating. But once he does, he begins practically tearing into it – I suddenly wonder whether he got breakfast.

  We eat in silence which starts off awkward but becomes companionable over time. Trouble and Lathani come begging for scraps of meat and Ninja starts joining in on the action – in the end, it’s her participation that convinces me to give into them and I end up having very little of the beef-like meat myself. It’s worth it to feel her enjoyment, though.

  It’s only once the bowls have been wiped clean and the side dishes are all but demolished that I feel a wave of resolve come from Loran’s direction.

  He looks up at me, unusually fixing me with his full regard.

  “Sir…Lord Markus….I was…if you…. May I speak with you? About…about my contract.”

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