Post by Tsin on Sept 20, 2010 23:22:59 GMT -5
~ Prologue ~
The streets of the Pirate's Market were never empty, no matter what time of the day, no matter what day of the week, no matter what week of the season. In times like the height of summer, with the sun beating down upon the asphalt with such intensity that it could roast a Sea King in mere seconds, the merchants of the market worked through the heat to peddle their wares, and perhaps... a cup of water to a thirsty prospect. At a premium of course, it's all business you understand. Just happened to have it lying around for myself, but you looked so very parched sir, and I wouldn't mind sharing a bit with you... And while you're at it, perhaps this gun might be of interest?
This day, however, was far from being one of those. A thick blanket of gray in the sky and an even thicker one of white on the ground, ever growing by the moment and being packed down by bootsteps in the very same. It was Winter, and the old man was coming in full force, albeit... with the grace and amiable nature of somebody's grandfather, as opposed to the crotchy bearded nut on his porch with a shotgun. Large flakes of the heavenly dust fell in a steady rhythm, clouding everybody's vision to nearly everything, the only light capable of cutting through the snowfall being the warming light of alcohol. That is, to say, the light of a good bar or tavern. It went without question to say that... They were making a killing.
Business is business is business though, and ships come and go even in the worst of weather for any amount of profit. Drinking a warm mug of steaming hot liquid-plastic would be better than walking down to the docks through this foot-deep layer of the white stuff, but a single man went through the motions anyways. Dressed appropriately for the season, his entire body was covered head to toe in thick layers, with only his face exposed to the elements. Judging just by that though, it was obvious the man had seen more than a few cycle of the seasons, a healthy dash of wrinkles adding a distinguishing note to the carefully cultivated mustache-beard combo: Black, though streaked with white. And not snow. His head was surprisingly uncovered however; by a hat, by hair, by anything. A person could practically hear the 'sheen' a streak of light would make bouncing off that perfectly curved dome, like a work of art. Not... that the old man would probably wanna hear it, but it was out there for all the world to see.
A merchant captain certainly saw it when the aged shopkeep finally arrived at the pier, still a bustling hive of activity. Perhaps even more so than usual, sailors working hard to knock the quickly-forming ice from their ships. Only the single captain seemed exempt from the work, busily waving up the walking man to the deck of the ship. "Come on, you're holding up the process Grandpa!"
Not anybody's actual grandfather, the middle-aged man scowled a little bit as he weaved casually between the paths of swinging hammers towards his business partner, hands crammed deep into his jacket pockets for some semblance of warmth. His face was one of somebody with something to say, but it was actually the merchant captain who had the next word. "It was no easy task Grandpa, but I found something you were talking about." The Captain led his friend over to a single long crate resting upon another, much longer than it was wide or tall and filled to bursting with packing material. There was a suspenseful few moments occupied by nothing except the rhythmic slam of hammers against ice and the rustle of foam peanuts before... A blade was finally unearthed from the wooden confines. A nodachi, it's hiltguard like the feathers of angel wings and the sheath engraved with a pair of fanged beasts. The entire weapon was a picture of shimmering silver, balanced but ornate, durable but sharp.
"One of the 21 Great Grade Swords, the 'Sleeping Lion.' You remember what you said you'd pay me for something like this?"
The old man put on an expression of apprehension for a moment, peering with suspicion at the weapon in his merchant friend's hands. Eventually he nodded however, although begrudingly. "Yes, I remember. And I'll pay it up too, but first you gotta let me inspect the goods so I know it's the real damn thing."
It was the Captain's turn to look a bit apprehensive... But out of a dozen deals with this Grandpa, he had never so much as even tried to do wrong before. He motioned to hand it over, and his elder motioned to grab it...
... But a hand snaked out from behind them, latching onto the shopkeep's wrist. Even through the layer of down in his coat sleeve, there was an unmistakable cold in the newcomer's grip, weak though it was. The old man turned to see who had intruded upon the transaction. A child, a young boy... No more than 14 no less than 12, his chattering teeth adding a new level of desperation created within his fierce glare. No gloves, no boots, no jacket; Just a pair of jeans, a shirt, and a thin blanket over his head... His skin was nearly blue from the elements, but he didn't let it stop him for even a moment. And to all of this, all of the possible mistreatment and mystery, the grandpa only motioned to the boy and asked, "... What's with the kid?"
The Captain laughed a bit nervously, scratching his head with his free hand. "Ah! Well, the kid!... Uh... Well... You see, he says the sword is his. Been following us for the past two islands, stowing away on the deck and watching over the crate. Figured the elements would take care of 'im, ya know? He's a tough little bugger though! Hahaha-!"
The old man caught his business partner across the face with the back of his hand, silencing him instantly through nothing but pain. His expression turned fierce, much worse than anything a 13 year old could ever imagine, as he glared at the merchant sailor and demanded answers, voice dripping with venom. "You... In this frost-biting cold... kept one of the Great Grade Swords out here this whole time?!" With gloved hand raised again, the Captain shielded his face and hid behind a crate, waiting for the grandpa's anger over this transgression to subside... and it did quickly. Just quick enough for him to turn his eyes onto the kid holding his wrist and shake his head in annoyance. "Well, the sword's mine now kid. You look cold. You hungry too?"
~~~~~~~
Now, the winter snow had given way to the blossoms of spring and the sunshine of summer, autumn quickly replacing it's two warm-blooded brothers with its own brisk breezes and chilly nights. What sparse trees did exist on the island of the Pirate's Market exploded into pieces of art, colorful collages illustrating the depth of beauty available in nature. Not that anybody even paused to notice though; business was the driving force on this island, and anything except for the color of beri was lost in those eyes...
... Well, that wasn't entirely true. Jun Lokuan certainly did appreciate the majesty of the fall fireworks, stepping off of another random merchant ship and on to the merchant island. His boots dragged happily through the piles of foliage raked up on the sides of the street, their crunch turning into bliss in his ears. Not that the young writer had come to the island with the espress purpose of enjoying the season or its weather, but it certainly was a nice bonus to the mission of picking up some more pens and books. The Fountain Glaive was looking a bit worse for wear on some days as well, for one particular reason or another, and perhaps the expert advice of a blacksmith would have to be called in...
All that could wait though, until he made it into the main part of town. For now...! The rustle of dry leaves and an enjoyable midday walk were on the docket, and whatever they might bring was all the more welcome.