Chapter 163: Eight – Smooth Sailing

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Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Eight - Smooth Sailing

I tugged my hat down to keep it on as a heavy gust of wind blew across the deck and set my skirts to flapping. I’d need to invest in some stockings, the air at our altitude was a bit past chilly. I might have been a proper cold-blooded Canadian, but that didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy keeping warm when I could.

“Port foresail to half!” Clive called out across the deck.

I was the nearest to the fore of the ship, so I jogged over to the railing and dropped to one knee next to them. The foresails were controlled with a set of cranks hidden under a plank that could be slid aside like a drawer. There were marks etched around the crank to show where each position would be, so all I had to do was twist it around a few times.

Still, I stuck my head over the side of the Beaver to see how well the sail had retracted. It gave me a gorgeous view of the ocean of clouds below. Past those, through the raggedy gaps left in the white sea, I could see the grey mountains of the Nesting Kingdom slowly giving way to sparse woodlands and some marshland.

“Clive!” I called back. “Have we passed the Nesting Kingdom already?” I resettled the lid over the sail controls and dusted off my skirts as I stood up. The Beaver was shifting a little underfoot, but I was able to shift with it. It was like standing up atop a raft in choppy waters, but with less swaying to it.

Clive hung onto the wheel and looked to his side where a compass stood atop a little pillar. “Aye, it’s possible, captain,” he said. “We should be following the Eastern Wall all the way to the Bracklands. We’re hitting a lot of wind though, more than I rightly expected.”

I nodded and hopped my way over towards the middle of the deck. Steve and Gordon were chatting amiably while coiling up some rope, and Bastion was on the starboard deck, swinging his sheathed sword around.

There wasn’t too much work to do now that we were underway. We’d need to replace Clive at the wheel eventually, the poor harpy had been at it for five hours, ever since we left Fort Sylphrot that morning.

Maybe I could take a turn at it? The wind was a bit strong, but we had time and fuel and such to spare if we were a bit off course. It would be a good opportunity to practice for later!

“How’s it going?” I asked Bastion as I landed a couple of meters away from him. The last thing I wanted was a whap on the ears for being too close to a swing of his sword.

The sylph paused for a bit and ran the back of an arm across his forehead. “I’m alright,” he said. “It seems to be smooth sailing so far.”

“Yeah!” I agreed. “The Beaver’s doing a good job.”

“That he is,” Bastion agreed. He shifted his shoulders a bit and then eyed me up and down. “Do you fight, Captain Bunch?”

“Not too much,” I said. “And not that well.”

“Well, your level suggests that you’ve been in a tussle or two in the past,” he said. “But maybe that’s normal for a life of adventure.”

I shrugged a shoulder, then, because he’d obviously done it to me, I used a bit of Insight on him too.

A Paladin of the Just Path, Level ??

Did that mean that he was past level twenty in his main class? Or was that more? He didn’t feel stronger than someone like, say, Abraham, but then maybe that was normal. “Maybe we can spar a bit? I could definitely learn a lot more about fighting my way out of trouble. And it wouldn’t hurt to get a few new skills.”

“You have some open slots?” he asked.

“Yup! My class evolution was just a week or so ago.”

His eyebrows rose at that. “Well then, do you have a weapon of choice?”

“Not really. I have a Makeshift Weapons Proficiency. I tend to use a spade. Do you think I should use that now?”

“A spade? I... certainly. I’ve never fought anyone using a shovel as a weapon before. It will be interesting practice,” Bastion said.

I grinned at him, then hopped back towards the port side of the ship and towards the cabins. On the way, I brought up Mister Menu and took a look at my stats and such. It had been a while since I looked at my skills.

“Yikes,” I said. There were a bunch of skills that I really needed to look at.

My Cleaning was gaining experience at a bit of a crawl. I supposed that that was normal, seeing as how it was at Rank A. It would take a lot more effort to get it up to Rank S, but that was only fair.

I had a few skills that I had hardly touched at all. Gardening, Archeology, and Adorable were kind of stagnating. The last was okay though, it was an awful and useless skill that was a big fat lie. But Gardening and Archeology both seemed like they could be handy.

Maybe I could start a little garden on the Beaver? Just a few little trees, maybe a patch of tomatoes next to some watermelon? I licked my lips at the thought of fresh produce growing right on deck.

Way of the Mystic Bun was levelling steadily. As was Tea Making. Even Mad Millinery was coming along, though I had no idea what I was doing to make that level up. Dancing was super close to reaching Rank C.

I... hesitated about putting a point into it. It cost five points to get a skill to Rank S, and I was at four. One more level of Cinnamon Bun Bun and I’d have the skill point needed to bring Cleaning up a notch, assuming I could get it to the point where it was ready to level.

I ducked my head under the doorway to the cabins. It was easy to forget that at seven foot something I had to be careful about thumping my ears on doorframes.

The fancy side of the Beaver had changed a bit since we’d gotten it. Now, as I passed by some of the little rooms, I could see the familiar touches my friends had given to their rooms. Amaryllis’ had two shelves against the walls, with a horizontal bar running across them to keep the books locked in place as the ship moved.

She had a nice chair bolted in place to read on, and a little dresser and chest that was no doubt filled with the stuff she thought was important on a long trip.

Awen’s room was... a bit messy. I suspected that she’d had maids cleaning after her her whole life and never really got into the habit herself. There were trunks overflowing with bits and bobs, tools hanging off of nails set on every wall, some of them rattling and clanking with every motion of the Beaver and she had a workbench off to one side with some sort of greasy thing on it.

Her bed was tucked away, as if an afterthought, in a corner, the sheets all rumpled up, and there were some clothes already gathered in a pile on the floor.

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Maybe I could help her clean up later. It would help level my skill, and keep things nice and neat.

The next two rooms across from each other were mine and Bastion’s. He had the door closed, which was fair. He didn’t exactly have time to bring in furniture or stuff anyway, so I imagined all he had was a bed and the chest we’d last placed in that room.

My own room was a bit boring. I had a bed tucked up to one side, and a shelf with a big lip to it on the other. I had my books there. Herbs for Healing, Plants for Power and A Guide to Manipulating the Essence that Awen had returned with a few oil stains. Some scrolls were tied up next to them. The spear I got from Oak hung above that in pride of place.

I had a stack of fresh blankets, a folded-up tent and a few other things I’d been carrying in my backpack up until recently, but that was about it. I didn’t have much to my name yet. I was sure I’d accumulate a few treasures along the way though.

I grabbed my trusty warspade from its hook on one wall, then ducked back out into the central corridor.

The sounds of chatting from deeper in made me curious, so I moved over to the fore and towards the little kitchen and dining area we’d set up.

“I think it needs more... salt? Maybe?”

“Awa, are you sure? We put in a lot already.”

“Of course. Look at how dark it is there. I think it’s supposed to be brown, not black, and salt should lighten it. Or maybe we need milk?”

I was almost in the kitchen when I heard Awen gasp and Amaryllis mutter something in a hurry. By the time I arrived they were both standing, facing me and with their backs to something that was smoking.

“Uh, hi?” I tried. My friends were acting really suspicious. Also, the air smelled like burnt veggies.

“Hello,” Amaryllis said. “What are you doing here?”

“I... live here?” I tried. “With both of you?”

“Well, yes, that’s obvious. You idiot,” Amaryllis said.

“Uh-huh. What are you guys doing?”

“Awa, nothing!”

I raised an eyebrow at that. “Nothing?”

“N-nothing,” she agreed.

“What’s that burning behind you?” I asked. Things that were on fire was something of a concern aboard an airship. “And why does it smell weird in here?”

“Awen passed gas,” Amaryllis said.

“Awa!” Awen exclaimed, her face turning all sorts of interesting shades. “That’s not, that’s....” Amaryllis poked her. “Yes. that’s what happened. We should open a window.”

Neither of them moved towards either one of the porthole windows.

The thing behind them continued to smoke.

“You guys know that you can tell me anything, right?” I asked.

Awen and Amaryllis looked at each other, and I think some sort of understanding passed between each other.

“We know,” Amaryllis said. “Now get back to work, you lazy idiot.”

“O...kay?” I said. “Uh, by the way, we’ll need to cook dinner soon.”

Both of them blushed a bit at that.

“I can probably have Steve or Gordon come down to cook. They seem very handy.”

Amaryllis looked away. “That makes sense. Cooking is a menial, peasant-y task.”

“Uh huh,” I agreed doubtfully. “Your nothing is on fire, by the way.”

Both girls spun around to take in the big pot behind them that was, in fact, on fire. I could make out some sort of chopped up meat on the table, and some veggies cut into... shapes that might have been cubes if I squinted really hard.

I decided that it might be best to leave them to whatever they were doing. It seemed like something that would drain away a lot of sanity.

“I’ll be on deck with Bastion,” I said. “If you need anything, like, uh, cooking advice, you just need to ask.”

“We need no such thing,” Amaryllis said. Then she started batting at some grease that had caught fire with a towel.

“Sure,” I agreed as I left them to it.

***

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