Chapter 40: Eight – Port Royal

I had two choices on how to reach Port Royal. Three, really. I could walk all the way up the switchback path, I could pay three copper to ride in a carriage pulled by a team of oxen with other passengers and some cargo, or I could pay a silver, the equivalent of half a day’s work for a normal person, to ride in a cable car that travelled up some towers and all the way up to the city proper.

I pressed my face against the glass off the cable car to take in as much of Port Royal as I could while I approached. The city was built on three large plateaus, each one ending at a sheer cliff face with a small wall all around it.

The city itself was a sea of red roofs sprinkled with the occasional bronze or blue or green. Off to the East were a series of five big towers that stuck out of the mountain side and cast long shadows across the port. And, barely visible on the west side, was the actual port. It overlooked a large chasm, bridges spanning the gap with ropes dangling down to the airships docked below.

That was going to be the third place I would visit. First Juliette’s husband’s inn, then the Exploration Guild’s headquarters, then the airship docks so that I could gawk at all the pretty flying ships.

The cable car stopped with a clunk and the young grenoil manning the controls opened the door and doffed his big floppy hat. “We’ve arrived, ladies and gents,” he said.

I was one of the first off, backpack bouncing behind me as I landed on the cable car’s platform. We had stopped above a little staging area next to the main gates. There looked to be places where lines of people would wait during the day to be let into the city, but--late as it was getting--those were all empty and only a few guards stood around attentively waiting for the next person to climb the hill.

“Thanks for the ride!” I called over my shoulder as I skipped over to the huge gates.

“Hello ma’am,” the nearest guard said. “First time in Port Royal?”

“It is!” I said.

He nodded his helmeted head. “Welcome to Port Royal. I’m going to Inspect you and your items, after which, if you’re not carrying anything suspect, you’ll be allowed to enter. Do you understand?”

“I do,” I said.

His eyes glowed in the depths of his helmet and they twitched to my backpack, then up and down my body. I felt like I had just been x-rayed or something and had to resist the urge to cross my arms over my chest.

“You’re good to go. Welcome to Port Royal.”

Smiling, I passed first the guards, then the gates, before coming to a stop.

The area right after the entrance was an open plaza. A little fountain standing in the middle of a square lined with shops and homes, not one of them less than two stories tall. Lanterns hung on poles alongside the streets, giving everything a cheery golden glow.

People of all sorts walked around or chatted. Some were packing up stalls with blue cloth roofs while others sat next to the fountain and enjoyed the evening air. Most, I noticed right away, were grenoil, but there were a few harpies and some sylphs and even a couple of humans.

I grinned as I started walking deeper into the city. That’s when the scent hit me. Or rather, the stench. There had to be an open sewer somewhere because the place smelled like poop.

It still wasn't as bad as a rotting Dunwich abomination, though.

Someone laughed from behind me and I turned to see a guard that was a good foot shorter than me standing next to one by the gates. “Always fun to see country folk take in the Port Royal air,” he said.

“Does it always smell so... like this?” I asked.

He nodded. “It’s the steam vents, mostly. Smells worse in the Scumway, not that you look the sort to go venturing down there. I’m told it’s the sulphur in the ground or some such.”

“Right,” I said. “Um, I need to get to the inn by the east gate. Do you know where that is?”

“East gate? That’s to the East.” He pointed to his right and down one of the roads. “That way, then you take a right onto Tripping Lane and up to Central. That cuts through the city West to East. Can’t miss the gate from there.”

“That way, Tripping Lane, Central. Got it!” I said. “Why’s it called Tripping Lane?”

The guard shrugged. “Heard the earth mage who made the road was off his rocker on Mattergrove wine. The entire road was bumpy and every step on the side paths was different to the next. Some noble tripped and broke his nose. They’ve fixed it after that, no worries.”

“Okay, neat! Thank you guard person!” I waved over my shoulder as I started towards the inn. The roads were very tight, much more so than anything back home. It was obvious that they hadn’t planned around cars and the like. But I could see lines criss crossing above and even the occasional cable car whizzing by so maybe they didn’t need to worry about that.

The cable cars weren’t the only unexpected thing. There were pipes all over. Some gurgling with water, others smoking as hot steam rattled through them. The few people out and about who had stopped to chat had to scream over the constant clanking of pipes and the occasional shrill whistle.

The houses, and I only guessed that because plenty of them had clothes out to hang and candlelight flickering within, were all pressed together with hardly any room between them, it made navigating the steep road like walking through a narrow chasm.

I did enjoy the architecture though. The homes all had stone walls on their first floors and everything above that was covered in wooden planks. The roofs had shiny red tiles that gleamed in the orange light of the evening and more than one home was freshly painted in blues and yellows and turquoise.

I almost missed Tripping Lane because of how my head was on a swivel to take in as much as I could. The road was, disappointingly, pretty normal, though there were a few pubs with some rowdy customers at both ends.

Central was much wider than any of the other roads I’d been on, with a patch of greenery down the middle and enough space that the people walking about had plenty of room around them. I shifted to the middle of the road, looked both ways, then started heading eastward and towards a large gate some hundred meters away. All the buildings along the street were either shops with big windows showing off their goods or very pretty homes with little fences and tiny gardens out front.

A low rumble from above had me craning my neck up and then gasping as an airship flew past so close that I could make out the individual planks of its hull. Brackish, blue-grey smoke poured out of a pair of engines in two nacelles at its sides as the ship veered around in the air and aimed towards the docks.

“This place is awesome,” I muttered.

The East Gate was manned, just like the front gate, and I could see that the homes and businesses on its other side were far nicer than those I had passed so far, with actual lots around them and lamps that weren’t quite so far apart.

You are reading story Cinnamon Bun at novel35.com

“Hello ma’am,” one of the guards at the gate said. “Do you have business on the East side?”

“I think so,” I said. “I’m looking for an inn. The owner is called Julien. I have a letter for him.”

“Courier's guild?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Exploration, but not yet, I’m just delivering the letter for a friend.”

He looked me up and down, then fixated on Orange who had poked her head out of my bandoleer to look around.

“Right, go on in,” he said. “Third building to your right, you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you!” I said as I shot past him and skipped along the road until I came to the front of a building that couldn’t be anything but an inn. It had a huge front, with three stories topped by a steep bronze-coloured roof with a couple of chimneys poking out the top. A glance through the checkered windows revealed a bunch of people sitting at round tables and finishing up their evening meals.

A sign hung over the door. Rock Inn and Roll Inn.

I walked in with a snort at the name only to be assaulted by a barrage of fresh scents. I had forgotten how bad Port Royal smelled over the course of my short walk. The Inn, in complete contrast to it, smelled heavenly. There had to be some magic keeping the nasty smells away.

“May I help you?” a young grenoil girl asked as she watched me just breathe in through my nose to commit the smells to memory.

I shook myself to refocus and fired a small burst of cleaning magic at my clothes. I wanted them to smell like the inn, not the sewers outside. “Yes, yes you can!” I said. “I’m looking for Julien.”

“Julien? He’s at ze counter,” she said as she half-turned to point.

There were two grenoil behind the bar, one was far too young, and too female, to be Juliette’s husband. The other was a big fat frog, the biggest I had ever seen, with a blindingly white apron around his tummy that was straining under his girth and a smile so huge it could have swallowed me whole.

He was talking to a customer that looked to be on his way out, picking a hat off of a rack built into the end of the bar to hand it over to the client who left with a wave over his shoulder.

I stepped aside to let the man pass, then walked over to the bar. “Hello, sir,” I said as I moved over to the bar. “May I sit?”

He blinked big froggy eyes at me and gestured. “Sit away! Zere’s always a free seat at my bar!”

I plopped myself down, removed my hat, and with a deft flick, completely missed the hat rack on the corner and sent my hat flying down a hall that, I suspect, led to the washrooms.

“Oh no!”

Ding! For doing a Special Action in line with your Class, you have unlocked the skill: Cute!

I froze.

No. No! Cute wasn’t a skill, and I wasn’t cute. I was attractive and pretty but not cute.

“Are you okay lass?” Julien asked.

“I-I ah, ah, I... shucks,” I said. I could freak out about it later. Instead, I pulled out Julien’s letter and handed it over to him. “This is for you.”

He looked at the letter, then his eyes widened and his smile grew tenfold as he saw the seal atop it. “From my dearest Juliette!”

“Yeah, she, she wanted me to deliver that to you,” I said. I absently pulled a silver coin from one of the pouches of my bandoleer and set it on the counter. “If you have a moment, I’d like a meal too. I need to... to drown my sorrows in delicious food.”

“Ah, keep your coin girl. Juliette would have my head if I treated someone who did a favour for her wrong,” he said before popping the seal and unfolding the letter. He moved back and cackled as he read, a sound that had a few of his staff shivering in what I suspected was horror. “She called me an oaf!” he said with glee.

My eyes met those of the barmaid and she shook her head. “I’ll get you some supper,” she said.

I nodded and then let my head thunk onto the counter. Cute. Cute. I wanted Fireball. Or... or literally anything else.

Ding! Two of your current skills are eligible for Merging: Cute, Friendmaking.

“Merging?” I asked Mister Menu, a kernel of hope flickering to life in my chest.

Merging skills will reset merged skill to the lowest rank. All skill and general points will be refunded. You may pick which slot the new skill will occupy as long as there is an available slot and the new skill matches class requirements.

That sounded... brilliant! I liked Friendmaking, it had potential, but Cute didn’t, and it would mean maybe freeing up another skill slot for something better down the line!

There was literally no way for this to go wrong!

Do you wish to Merge Cute and Friendmaking to unlock the Seduction skill?

You can find story with these keywords: Cinnamon Bun, Read Cinnamon Bun, Cinnamon Bun novel, Cinnamon Bun book, Cinnamon Bun story, Cinnamon Bun full, Cinnamon Bun Latest Chapter