Episode 1: First Voyage
Slippery Bastard
Stone floors, the grey cobble only broken up by stains of mixed, rusty dry blood. High up on the smooth and towering walls was a single opening at the end of the hallway of cells, a notch barely wide enough for an arrow to fly into. Hearth’s moonlight streaked in, almost mocking the incarcerated masses inside with its trickling beams, teasing the dozens of incarcerated men with the reminder that the world stretched on forever past this cold artificial cavern. Belittling them for the limits they could not break, shackled and presented in their squalor as penance for their actions, just or not. Chains of the strongest steel. Not an inch to move. And yet no rest came from this still prison. It was not very quiet at all tonight.
“Once, there was a kingdom of gold and mithril, so far away from here that it would never be seen. Their heroism rang throughout the cities! Their empire knew only the bounds of its settlers!” A voice echoed from the tower cell. A cobalt-blue dracoling, captured 49 days ago, was responsible for the racket. “But alas, their great deeds were nothing more than deception.”
“Shut the hell up!” Another prisoner cried out.
“Just let us get some shuteye! Stop rambling about that stupid tale!” A third voice yelled.
“Deception, I say!” the dracoling cried out in his Sothyrion accent, ignoring the nightly hecklers so far from where that dialect arose. His ice-white teeth gleamed in the tender light of Hearth above as he smiled. The moon's silver scorn became his spotlight as he performed, arms, legs and tail enchained by the strongest restraints available, motion and magic sealed. A man who thrived even through the jeering of the chorus. “The kingdom was peaceful, though tragedies struck often. Spirits took away people night after night. But I’ll tell you, my comrades–”
“We ain’t your fuckin’ buddies, scale-ass!”
“MY COMRADES, those spirits were people! The king commanded them to keep his rule secured, and his people docile! And I survived their raid on my home, through clever wiles and stealth.” The dracoling held his snout high, his almost crucified position giving him a pose of stardom. The chill of the summer night broke seasonal convention and politeness, hushing him, hushing everyone, rushing in from that damned window from the outside that these men may never see again. A reminder as harsh as the moonlight, an urging for this wannabe bard to shut the hell up. Even Haven itself demanded silence, it seemed.
Keys clacked against each other in time with boots against stone. An orderly rhythm distinguished the steps from that a civilian or even an inmate might give off, pounding heel to stone with the same zealous fervor a smith might strike their steel. No sparks flew from the floor as the clacking, the clanging, the metronomic jingling of heavy-duty keys intensified. The warden, or at least one of the higher ranking guards, approached the end of the cell block.
“Keep it down, you filthy dogs.” A deep feminine voice echoed across the walls. The guard paced up to the towering cell at the end of the block, the one with the arrow-slat window the night mocked the block through and the highest level of security, the strongest and most restrictive bindings for the exceptionally tricky charge kept there. She wore a neatly ornate uniform, made for the purpose of punishment and control. White with grey-blue accents, not a wrinkle or a speck of dust on it. A symbol of authority, at least in this small region of this province of this silver-and-red empire. Freedom that Hearth flaunted reflected off of this uniform, a promise that only held true so long as she stayed in this cage. Slamming her metal-soled boot against the cell walls, she admonished the one-eyed cobalt dragon-man.
“What do you think we are going to do to you if you keep mouthing off every night?” She glared into his sky-blue eye with her two fiercely silver ones.
“Cut out my tongue, perhaps. But you might just get sick enough of me that you will let me go.” He said, smirking even in his metal-bound state. He was in rags, shameless but for a few torn scraps left of his pants and a hole-riddled napkin of a white shirt that once had sleeves long ago. That and an eyepatch, sealing up a void where his left eye should have been. Shameless described his demeanor quite well, too. Even as he spoke, he shifted his weight side to side, moving in his enchained suspension ever so much as to let him enunciate his confidence through the maximum security in which his limbs were bound.
“Cocky one, aren’t you?”
“I’m sure that even I could take a hand or two off of you, miss. Though it would be a shame to hurt that lovely face of yours.” He grinned, batting his eye flirtatiously. The guard laughed grimly. A look somewhere between superiority and disgust twisted her face. She was no stranger to breaking in these prisoners, and clearly this one needed that lesson next.
“What? You, a vagabond man, worried about hurting me? How presumptuous.” She shoved her face into the bars to mock him some more before realizing something crucial.
“What is it, my lady? Getting lost in my figure, bound up in chains and suspended above the floor? How naughty of you.” He smirked.
“Where… where is your muzzle?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” The dracoling said, taking on a manic expression. He opened his maw and spat lightning through the bars. Arcs of ice-blue light ripped through the guard’s uniform and flesh, jumping like frantic hummingbirds between the metal buttons and keys on her outfit. She screamed, fighting her spasming muscles to flinch away from the electrified bars.
“AGGHHH!!! DAMN IT ALLLLL!!!!” the guard shrieked, clutching various parts of her limbs to try and soothe the pain. The dracoling swung his body back and forth in the chains like a pendulum, and when he was sufficiently far back, threw his head in a circle faster than the warden could blink. The almost regal ring of thunder shattered the chains of his arms and legs, dropping him to the floor. The guard scrambled to get up.
“You Westland women are so determined.” The navy blue free-to-be man snarked. “I like it.” Breaking the shackles on his wrists and ankles, he flexed his hands and sniffed. Something was returning to his complexion, albeit slowly. His faint azure eye regained a bit of depth to its hue, shifting from the dim whisper of blue in a winter sky to the deep clarity after a summer storm.
“I won’t let you get away!” the guard yelled. Only turning back did the dracoling see that she had been tapping colors out on a bracelet. Was it that messaging thing he had heard about before being captured? Capture wasn't inevitable, but it had been more than a day since his last meal, and the assault by dozens of them would be... His pupil contracted in slight fear, but then returned to his normal confident stare. There was no reason to worry preemptively. No reason to slow himself down and make them win. To hand himself over to another place so soon after this escape.
“Ah, unlucky for you, miss warden. The fog is coming.” Sure enough, a mist had begun to filter in from the notch in the wall. He exerted another brilliantly inducted breath at the chain on his tail, causing it to violently burst apart. The eye deepened again, becoming the pure oceanic azure of the Austral Sea. He inhaled yet again, restoring that same something in full. That vitality sealed by the enchanted chains, a source more alienable than his sparks and much more fickle. That mistress Mana, now free to flow through him yet again. He touched his eyepatch and removed it, procuring a ball of salty water from his empty eye socket. “Looks like I won’t be needing this.”
“Were you storing fucking sweat behind your eye?!” the warden demanded in shock. The cobalt escapee did not respond with anything more than a faint upturn in the corners of his mouth. He flicked the ball at her, splashing her with the acrid waters, preferring the blessings given by the weather to the plan he made through his own desperation. As she reached for her sword again, eyes blazing with the sole thought of DAMN THAT LIZARD, he spat another bolt at her, sending her into the fried throes of electric shock yet again. The saltwater amplified it, rapidly boiling away as she was seared and coating her in the man's own scent.
The dracoling made water platforms under his feet out of the incoming mist, kicking off of one to land on the other. The refractions of the moonlight beckoned him, the chill of the night giving way to a sudden breeze. That freedom the others might never see, which spat on their eyes even now? Why, it was simply an arm's length away for this man, bound until just now tighter than all else within this block together. He made his way up towards the arrow notch.
“Well, it’s been fun, everyone! Make sure to tell my story! This isn’t the first prison I’ve escaped, and it most certainly won’t be the last!” He laughed, squatting on mirrors of his water. The caustic ripples of light from his platforms undulated as he cackled, the sound echoing off the cold stone bricks until it falsely mimicked the thunderous applause of a happy audience. The prisoners he had been unwillingly incarcerated with were, contrasting this uproarious acclaimance, grimacing and snarling at this breakage they had no hope of joining. “And miss, if you ever want to tie me up and dominate me like that again, I'd appreciate you asking first.” The trembling guard slammed the key into the cell lock, desperate to reach him before he escaped.
“Damn you, lizard!”
“The name’s Gallium, my lady. Gallium Silverspark!” he erupted, in time with a rapidly spinning sheet of water slicing the thick reinforced stone wall open behind him. Rubble and debris fell into the narrow and tall cell as Gallium moonwalked into the outdoors on clouds of fog. Wet footsteps could barely be heard for a few seconds from inside the prison. The night fell quiet once again.
Where All Rivers End
An intricate chalk circle lined the floor of the quaint old cottage in much the same way Gallium’s stolen gold lined the old man’s pockets. His silver beard almost scraped the floor as he drew the geometric pattern around the expensive platinum rapier Gallium had… acquired. Crystals of all varieties laced the circle.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” Gallium asked, raising his scaly brow.
“The enchantment of recollection is on your blade, correct? Trust me, young one, I know what I am doing.” The old wizard responded, his raspy voice hanging on every syllable. Gallium shivered in anticipation. He needed that sword more than any other possession in the world. Even more than the orb-shaped pendant chained around his neck. It took enough trickery to keep even that away from the guards’ vision. A place not even they would have thought to check... they'd even induced vomiting in him to make sure he didn't eat any contraband! His trusty sword would have been too much to hide. The memory was vile to even think about, and Gallium tasted a mote of that vomit-making poison in his throat now.
“I really do appreciate your help with this, sir, but may I inquire about where the nearest port is?” The lapis dracoling pressed, begging only the faintest glint of intrigue from the wizard’s eyes.
“Follow the setting sun directly West, and you will find yourself at the ocean in but a single day. Do not burden me with the details of your plans. Interrogation as a witness can be such a tedious process.” The old Mythra almost whispered. He picked up his snowy white chalk from the floor and gathered a few more stones. A deep blue orb of midnight amber, a pearl of the same golden hue as the sun, and an iridescent azure stone with the same name as the blade. Kyanite. After placing each bauble in its place, the old man motioned to Gallium.
“Call for it, boy, and the blade will switch places.” He ordered.
“Come to me, Kyanite!” Gallium demanded. The rainbow of lights that lifted from the chalk faded to an aurora of evening indigos and deep sky blues. A soft rumbling echoed as if through water and the rapier folded into itself. In its place appeared an ordinary wooden cane, made of some exotic pinkish-red variety.
“Oh dear, did I make an error in the circle? Were the ingredients incorrect?” The wizard started nervously.
“No, old man. This is perfect!” Gallium celebrated, holding the cane with fervent familiarity. “Welcome back, Kyanite, my sweet comrade.” Holding the cane up to his face, he listened to it for a few seconds.
“I don’t understand. You said you had a blade enchanted with recollection!”
“Haven’t you ever seen a cane-sword before? They’re quite common, at least where I’m from.” Gallium responded, unsheathing the navy blade from its faded maroon casing. On either side of the one-edged straight sword were sets of shifting aqua runes. The way it glistened in the dim room demonstrated just why Gallium had named the blade Kyanite. Sheathing it again, Gallium waltzed out of the front door, leaving a simple “Thanks!” written in sea salt on the floor.
Inconspicuous wooden cane in hand, Gallium hunched over slightly to appear older. This place was crawling with Edian dunces who didn't know a soberin from a lecteria. They wouldn't know a baby from a geezer if they're Lith. Not that Gallium particularly cared to distinguish between some of the Edians, anyway. Who cared if some of them had slightly longer ears? Who cared if they were a bit shorter or... green? His own race had ten times that variance. Keeping up with all the minutiae of flat-faces who never gave him an honest look? Bah! Useless.
He wandered down the road into the central streets of the town. Now wearing a gray cloak he’d stolen from the wizard, who was surely none the wiser as of yet, Gallium was disguised. He absentmindedly shuffled through the streets, sparing no opportunity to swipe from the pockets of the more elegantly dressed citizens. His lonesome cerulean eye scanned the road for anything of use. Food, maps, fresh water. I suppose I could just pull pure water from the air when I’m out on the ocean, he thought.
Rhythmic footsteps sounded from behind Gallium. Before he could react, a broad hand touched down on his shoulder. Putting on his most convincing elderly act, the cobalt dragon-man turned around. He wouldn't be found out. He couldn't be. And even if he was, he had Kyanite. He had magic and his lightning. He had wit, open space, his own strength. What's another murder on the list? I'm not getting less wanted anytime soon.
“Yes, how may I help you, sir?” He grinned, not betraying an ounce of the intimidation he felt from this titanic Edian holding his shoulder. This strength was not a force to be taken lightly. The crowds would see. The guard would have backup.
“You’ve been moving suspiciously. I’d like to ask what exactly you’re doing here.” The man spoke, authority ringing out from his throat.
“Ah, I’m sorry. My knees haven’t been so good as of late. You know how rainy weather is.” Gallium beamed, starting to tremble slightly. An act for the weak knees. Definitely an act. Damn convincing to the somewhat heavily armored man, right? But still fake, not born of fear or trepidation. You can't be afraid with nothing to lose.
“You stupid, old man? It’s not raini–” the threatening officer started. Mid-sentence, water from the clouds overhead dripped onto his brutish nose. Gallium’s tail swished, calling down more of the heavens in a light shower on the town. He grimaced briefly before unveiling his signature smirk.
“Never doubt an old man’s knees, greenhorn.” Sticking his tongue out, Gallium turned West and began to sprint. Still in shock, the pursuing officer lost sight of him in the crowd, who were rushing back to their homes on account of the sudden rain. He laughed as he stepped, the groundwater making way for his deep blue feet so as to not let him slip.
“Who knew running away from a fight could be such fun?!” He shouted to himself, taking dry steps in a wet world. Just who that exclamation was for, Gallium dared not answer. How funny it was that he'd fled from such a weak opponent! A brute with no clear technique beyond that monstrous strength.
The trek westward was made much more relaxing by the lack of people. Fewer eyes to hide from. Gallium gripped Kyanite tightly as he walked. He wondered if he’d have to get to the point of fighting head-on with anyone. Not if I’m lucky, he reasoned to himself. To his credit, Gallium was a chronically lucky man. Some would even say his luck was terminal, like the Divines had destined a far worse death for him than any mundane force could hope to conjure.
“Let’s see if I can’t get there before sundown.” Gallium said to himself, crouching down and positioning his cane at his side as if to draw. Pulling Kyanite a third out of its sheath, he spoke a mantra of focus to himself, calling the technique from his long-trained bones. “Storm-sword, meet my breath. Call your thunder from the heavens. A thousand leagues before my seventh step.” As he called the technique forth, his eye focused miles forward and his stance shifted. Each footfall against the stone was met with naught but a blue-white blur and a deafening crack. Gallium’s breath flowed absently, air in and chillingly bright thunder out. The hills and paths zipped by as the cloaked dracoling dashed forth, curving along the winding road like a drop of water rushing in a river. And like all rivers, his final goal was the vast open sea.
Gallium’s joy did not appear on his face. The crackling light spewing from his mouth and wrapping down his legs held all of his personality. The exhilarating pressure from each thundering step and the beating of his draconic heart played like an ethereal melody of heavenly drums. The rain almost seemed to fall sideways against his lonely eye. Eventually, a foggy port came into view. The seaborne clouds created a dismal cover for the next step of Gallium’s plan. He grinned in the clouded afternoon, taking in what little was visible of the port town.
“Surely I’ll find a vessel befitting my quest,” he said to himself. “Maybe even a few kindred souls will join me!” He chuckled. A merry little adventure it would be. Wandering down to the dock, the dracoling noticed a particularly nice ship. Exotic woods, a similar reddish-pink glaze to Kyanite's casing, a good slick polished finish. It was sizeable, enough for a dozen or so people before it would feel crowded, yet not so large he suspected it would be inhabited. He boarded it by stepping on the mists around him and began investigating. The rosy wood was nice and sturdy, and the size of the hull was nothing to sneeze at.
Storerooms stocked with food and water lined the galley, and a single candle smelled of smoke in one of the quarters. Someone clearly intended to use this ship to sail out soon.
“Who’s there, rockin’ my boat?!” a gruff elderly voice called from the dock. Gallium shuffled up to the deck of the ship to meet the mysterious owner. An old Lunalythra woman was holding a lantern up at Gallium with a fierce glint in her eye. She started to shout when she noticed the cobalt dragon-man.
“Good afternoon, madam! I’m in a terrible predicament, you see, so I require a vessel!” Gallium hollered back at her. “Would you mind lending me this one?”
“What in the devil are you jabberin’ about? That’s MY boat! Git off ‘er!”
“You seem like a strong-spirited woman. Why not come along with me? I could always use a few comrades!” He extended a hand to her. The woman’s ears twitched in shock.
“You’re talkin’ like you’re gunna take it either way! Ain’t no way in the world I’m lettin’ ya!” The old woman protested. Gallium’s smile faded.
“I take it that’s a no on joining my crew?”
“Git. Off. My. Ship!” The woman snarled, brandishing a two-barreled metal pipe. Pulling some kind of switch on it, a flurry of sparks hit the back end of it. A thunderous boom split the air, and a battering of metal shards zoomed towards Gallium. Even jumping back, the projectile spray scratched the front of his snout. The navy pirate yelped out in surprise and pain.
“Wowza, that’s a pretty scary gadget you’ve got there! But it’s not gonna be enough to stop me!” He remarked, swinging his cane up to call a razor-sharp wave of chilled saltwater. The ropes anchoring the ship were severed cleanly, and the vessel began to drift through the port.
“Dammit! Stop, bastard! Don’t take the Lucky Summer!” The old woman shouted. Gallium laughed out a brief apology as he swung his arms around. Water swelled around the ship and carried it out to the open sea. The ship’s previous owner tried to shoot at the new one with that odd scepter of hers, but the spark mechanism was soaked.
The oceanic sunset was invisible through the dense clouds, but Gallium didn’t mind. His new era of adventure had begun. Undrinkable waters as far as the eye could see, a ship full of food and booze, and his loyal sword at his hip. He breathed in the salty air. If anywhere was home, this was it.
Sailor’s Dream
Gallium lowered the sails and sighed. Once again, he’d run himself dry of mana from using the ocean to pull the Lucky Summer along. The wind spared only the barest and most reluctant of efforts to fill the sail. Gallium complained to the zero people with him on the rather large ship.
“What EVER could I have done to upset the winds?” He lamented. Shaking a fist at the limp sail, he yelled, “You know, I wouldn't be using you so little if you’d actually TAKE me somewhere, you damn…! Wait, which Divine is the one that controls the winds again?” Gallium pondered on exactly which god to start cursing out for a few minutes, before deciding instead to take a nap.
Gallium’s two azure eyes opened to see his childhood home, which had no burn damage or bleeding corpses hanging from it to speak of. The normal, living, stainless grass fluttered in the midday breeze. Why was I here again? Gallium thought to himself. The sky looked like a painting, clouds stretching on in undefined streaks and blurs. Reaching out, Gallium noticed his small right hand. His claws would be sharp enough to be weapons all on their own soon. A familiar deep voice called for him from inside the cobbled together cottage of wood and rock.
“Just a sec, Dad!” Gallium replied, starting to run back. His short legs couldn’t outrun anything meant to chase him just yet, but he could certainly try. The boundless energy within children is not something to underestimate.
He opened the door, seeing his father cooling off the forge with a bucket of water. The anvil steamed slightly and the crucible sputtered violently, as if it was angry at the still-living Indium Silverspark for quenching its blade-rearing passion. Gallium’s father looked at him with pride in his singular pale electrum eye. Pulling a navy blue blade from the quenching barrel, he presented the nearly finished metal edge to his son.
“Look, Gallium. This is some of my best work yet! Can you tell?” Indium beamed. Gallium couldn’t see much detail in the sword-to-be, but the color was very striking.
“Nuh-uh,” Gallium said, shaking his cobalt head. Indium’s eyes flashed with a tinge of melancholy. Why didn’t I notice that the last time? Gallium’s thoughts briefly returned to his own self.
“This is going to be your sword, Gallium. Your mother and I are going to work very hard to make sure it lasts you a lifetime,” Indium explained, “So look closely. What do you want this sword to be? A friend, a tool, a part of yourself?”
“I wanna explore the world!” Gallium exclaimed, not quite understanding the question. Indium chuckled and turned over to the log corner. A very familiar section of Gallium’s old favorite blossoming tree stuck out to him. Kyanite’s cane.
“I think… yeah, I think I can make it a perfect partner for exploring.” Indium smiled.
“Gallium, I need you to pay attention to this very carefully.” His mother’s lone periwinkle eye seemed to shower Gallium with concern and love. She held her lucky necklace that she handed off to Gallium’s father when he went on adventures to get more materials.
“Mm? Okay!”
“Do you remember why your father and I have one eye each?” She prompted. Gallium’s mind turned a little foggy as he tried to remember.
“Something with using the necklace…” Gallium’s right eye flashed in pain. His vision through it ebbed and faded, the sensation of claws entering it violently.
“It hurts, Mom!” Gallium cried out. His sword felt smaller at his hip.
“I know, dear. Just bear with it a little longer. I told you you didn’t have to go through with it.” She said, equally reassuring and scolding her son. Vanadine Silverspark was always contradictory like that. Gallium’s little sister scampered around in the next room over while the optical debris was gouged from his new socket. Gallium did his best to hold still and not cry too much during the process.
“There, I got it.” She sighed. Gallium finally let himself squirm around on the stool, gripping Kyanite with all his might. “Indium, honey, get the bandages!”
“Huh? It’s over already?” Indium called back. He clattered around downstairs for a minute or so before arriving at the room.
“I did it, Dad.” Gallium proudly said, his voice breaking and body quivering in pain. He smiled through bared teeth.
“That’s my boy. You’re tough enough to handle anything the world throws at you now. ” As Indium wrapped the medicinal bandages around Gallium’s now missing right eye, his image briefly shifted. Just a flash of his head, lacerated and missing its lower jaw, his lifeless eye stained with blood more than tears. As briefly as it appeared, it vanished.
Gallium jumped out of his seat, only to find himself at a bar. No good, they’re coming after Mom! He rushed out of the bar and down the road. He didn’t notice the scenery blurring by as he rushed to his house, burning down. His mutilated parents were hanged from the roof of the quaint cottage. The fields surrounding them were charred. A small troupe of royal soldiers stood at the grim visage, holding torches.
“Mom… Dad…” Gallium whispered in shock. His veins felt like all the fury and pain of Hell were starting to leak into them through his eye. A small blue head rolled across the cobbled path.
“SELENIUM!!!!” Gallium screeched. He burst forward at the bastards, lightning enveloping his body as he forced it from his lungs. He pulled Kyanite out of its sheath, slicing with all the might he had. Ice-white sparks bounced off of the imperial shield of one of the murderers. The tall Sylvian warrior was silent and had no expression on his face. Not even the drops of dracoling blood that were sprayed across his cheek showed any sign of emotion.
Gallium reached for the necklace around his neck. If only his parents had had it, they could have…
Gallium jolted awake. The ship’s warmth felt different. Hollow. Reliving that night of hell was never a good experience. He tried to focus on something, anything to get out of the mental swamp that dream… no, that memory, stuck him in. The sea was warped and strange compared to before he’d slept. The clouds seemed to be pointing somewhere. The sail was actually full of wind, as if that nightmarish recollection had been the price for it. Looking over the bow, Gallium could see something on the horizon. A pale green-grey distortion of the sea, protruding up into the sky. Land.
The White Wolf
Gallium set his ship at the dock, dropping all three anchors it had for some reason. He hopped off the deck and landed on the wooden platforms of the dock, holding a fresh rope from inside the storerooms. He took a minute to tie the ship up before meandering up to the town. A guard was standing at a booth by the dock entrance.
“Two gold per week. How long you planning on staying for?” The uniformed guard asked.
“You know, I’m not sure yet. I doubt it’ll be more than a few days, knowing me. The sea calls stronger than any maiden I’ve met yet.” Gallium remarked, putting two of his questionably sourced coins into the booth. He wiggled his scaly brow instead of winking, as the latter would require the privilege of a second eye he did not have. The toll manager scoffed and turned away, stifling a smile. Easy crowd, this one. Gallium walked through the town, holding Kyanite like an average cane. Something felt lucky about this place. The bustling town was full of market stalls and inns, and it smelled of wonderfully cooked fish of various types. Restocking the Summer wouldn’t be a problem. Some inexplicable smell drew Gallium away from the main coastal area and down a winding road.
A few miles away from the port town, Gallium saw a familiarly constructed stone prison. A tower just like the one he had escaped not too long ago stuck out of the ground. It smelled like odorless luck.
“Oh, I’ve just absolutely got to see who’s in that cell,” he said to himself, devilishly grinning. He decided to go through the prison’s entrance.
The first few rounds of guards were suspicious of him, but overall happy to have anyone bothering to visit the prison. A nervous-looking young Mythra woman was at the inner desk, holding a ring of keys.
“Anyone you’re particularly here to see?” she asked shakily. Gallium took advantage of the situation.
“Are you new here by any chance? I’m here to see my family friend that’s in the tower cell, just like I do every couple of months,” he lied. His eye glinted with ferocity, and the guard folded.
“S-sorry, I’m not familiar with our regular visitors… You’re here to see Cadmus Ardentfang, right?”
“Yes. Don’t worry, I understand it can take some time to get used to a new job. Here,” he offered, sliding a silver coin over to the guard, “Just to show my appreciation for the work you all do to keep the peace.” Gallium smiled at the guard, his fatal romanticism threatening to take over again.
The guard walked him down the halls of prisoners to the room in front of the tower cell. She opened a locker in front of the door to the visitation enclave of the cell.
“Sorry, but I’ll need you to put everything in here. It’s just the regular procedure,” she said, holding one arm out. Gallium smirked.
“Oh, mistress, surely you don’t mean everything,” he joked, tugging at his thin white shirt. She flinched a bit and blushed.
“Obviously you can keep your clothes, but all– all accessories and items carried on you must be put here.”
“Haha! Of course, right away.” Gallium chuckled, putting away his cane, sack of coins, necklace, and eye patch.
“You don’t need the eye patch?” The guard asked. Gallium shook his head.
“I always take it off, just so you can be sure I’m not hiding anything inside. When you visit as often as I do, people start to think you’re planning something,” he smiled, once again pulling a story out of his ass. He entered the room with the cell, and the guard closed and locked the door behind him.
“You have one hour. If you somehow end up getting hurt, just scream really loud for help.” She explained.
“Okaaaaay!” Gallium gleamed back. The guard’s footsteps grew quiet as she walked away back to her post. A chain rattled from behind the cell bars.
“Who–”
“It’s been a long while, Cadmus.” Gallium leaned over to the cold iron bars, cutting off the bulky white Lunalin prisoner. “Pretend I’m a regular visitor, okay?” He whispered. “It’s Gallium, by the way.”
“S-sure has been, Gallium. It’s been… lonely.” Cadmus replied, putting a weak smile on his snowy-furred face. His eyes seemed to flicker between a pale vermillion and a faint gold. His ears twitched. “She’s out of earshot now.”
“I noticed.” Gallium said. Squatting down, he took in the strangely nostalgic atmosphere. The daylight barely made a mark through the criminally thin slit in the stone walls. The ground was cold. Cadmus certainly had more freedom of movement than Gallium did in his last prison, only being chained by an ankle to the center of the cell. “So, Cadmus, how long are you in till?”
“They don’t tell me the time or date, and I can’t track it by the constellations, but I’d say… around two years left? Not that I care anymore.” He resigned. Gallium felt a cold aura from the ragged-robed wolf man.
“You don’t even want to go home?” Gallium prodded. Cadmus blinked in surprise.
“You don’t know what I’m even here for? I refused military service, so the recruiter framed me for assault and battery of a military official. I got lucky with just 6 years since I plead guilty.” He explained. “I’m gonna be forced to serve once I get out, probably.” Gallium’s face scrunched up with confusion and, though he didn’t want to admit it, a little bit of disgust.
“Huh? Why the hell would you plead guilty? Do you just take everything people throw at you?”
“You’re not from the island, clearly. Once a case gets to trial, everyone just assumes guilt anyway. Might as well take the lesser sentence with dignity,” he sighed, looking over at the bench chained up to the stone wall.
“Wow, this place must really suck. Why not just run away then?” Gallium offered. Cadmus turned his pale head to the dragon man.
“How? And where would I even go?” He raised a furry brow at Gallium. The incarcerated Lunalin had clearly lost all sense of will.
“I can get you out of here tonight pretty easily,” Gallium whispered, “but you need to be useful to me. If you want a piece of the devil’s luck, anyway.” He grinned, and for a second, he caught Cadmus staring into his empty eye socket.
“Again, what would I do with that?”
“Join my crew, of course. I’m sick of sailing blindly alone.” Gallium said matter-of-factly. “It was a stroke of luck that I even made it to this island.”
“Wait, you don’t have any navigational skills?”
“Not a lick besides my intuition.” Gallium said. Cadmus’ eyes glimmered in the dim cell.
“Are you serious? That’s like, my whole skillset! I learned just about every way to figure out where you are in the world.” He piped up excitedly. His tail began to twitch.
“The only way I can see someone getting that into navigation is if they’ve got a pretty sweet dream.” Gallium teased. “So what did you really want to do before the whole military thing?”
“I wanted to visit every island in the world.” Cadmus replied, the words falling from his mouth like water. Gallium smiled at him.
“No storm can sink my crew, Cadmus. I’ll be back tonight, then. Keep dreaming.” The footsteps of the guard began again. Her boots clacked against the icy stone floor of the prison. “Welp, gotta go.”
“See ya, Gallium!” Cadmus howled back. His eyes lit up on his stoic face like citrine jewels in a cloud.
The guard opened the door and Gallium stepped out. As he put his necklace back on, he considered how to get Cadmus out. Obviously he would need a decent amount of seawater. Relying on weather again was not a good option. As for extracting the white wolf without being caught himself. It would have to be a very quick cut in the wall, but not one that caused much debris. I might end up needing to actually use my sword for this one.
Gallium decided to restock on food and other supplies before sunset. The markets of the port town had many foods preserved and tailored to maritime explorers. It was only natural for a coastal settlement. The smell of salt in the air permeated Gallium’s snout as he made his rounds back and forth from the dock. He told the toll man that he would be departing late tomorrow afternoon. Yet another lie. Gallium hated deceiving so many people, but it was necessary to ensure Cadmus made it safely out to sea as his navigator.
“Finally, I can actually go places with intent. And I guess I have someone to talk to,” he said to himself as he hauled a barrel of various citrus fruits into the Lucky Summer.
Sunset came and Gallium took off from the dock, carrying under his pilfered cloak a bulky mass of saltwater. Having such a connection to water magic came in handy often, but he’d never used it for such a selfless act. Maybe I’m on track to become some kind of hero, Gallium laughed to himself internally. The road to the prison was permeated with the untouchable scent of destiny. This time, he wouldn’t be so compliant with the law, though. Minor deception of prison guards was nothing compared to the crime he was about to commit. His third prison break, and the first one that wasn’t just his own escape.
Gallium tapped thrice on the outside of the stone wall with his cane. Cadmus’ hearing would surely alert him to the dragon’s presence. Unsheathing Kyanite, he grinned with manic energy. The sword was swallowed by the seawater. Gallium made it rush up and down the blade in a looping motion. The faster the waters churned, the more cutting power they had. Once sufficiently concentrated on its flow, Gallium pierced the boulder wall with Kyanite. The sword entered it as if it were butter. A slight sputtering noise emanated from the cut. Not wasting any time, the dracoling swept the blade in a circle, cleanly severing a cylindrical segment of the wall. Using the rest of the seawater under his cloak, he grabbed the newly freed stone and slid it out onto the ground. Crawling into the hole and looking down, Gallium met Cadmus’ gaze.
Cadmus held out his ankle. The chain rattled quietly, with just a little clatter as Gallium cut it with his water-covered blade. Struggling to remain quiet, Cadmus scaled the walls and clambered out of the hole. Gallium used his store of ocean water to fit the slice of stone neatly back into place, with only a thin circle indicating it was ever removed.
“Well, you actually made good on your promise.” Cadmus mumbled. Gallium smiled at him with bright teeth.
“Welcome to the life of high crime, buddy.”
The two ran back to the coast as quietly as they could, skirting around the town to avoid being seen. Cadmus’ face was well known since his stacked trial. The dock was quiet, with even the toll-collecting guard being fast asleep. Gallium loaded the fugitive onto his ship and undid the ropes. Climbing on deck with the help of some aquatic stairs, the two had made it.
“So how do you expect us to get out of here? The wind’s blowing inland.” Cadmus posited.
“I’ve never been one to rely on the wind, wolf boy.” Gallium taunted. “This is how you command a vessel of the seas.” He raised his sheathed Kyanite, causing a swell of water to push the ship out of the dock. Cadmus looked over the deck, amazed at the dracoling’s feat of magic.
“I think I understand what you meant by ‘no storm can sink my crew’. Wow. Even ocean currents wouldn’t stop you from going anywhere you wanted.” The white wolf said. Yadriel faded further away from view as Gallium commanded the seas to pull the Lucky Summer forth. The seaspray chilled the newly formed crew as the stars danced overhead. The Rings of Harmony shined their same brilliant scarlet, illuminating the night with a strange warm color in tandem with Hearth.
“You should get some real clothes on, Cadmus,” Gallium suggested. “I bought some I thought you’d like while I was preparing to get you out of there.” Cadmus nodded, walking over into the galley to find them.
The next morning was calm. The winds carried the Lucky Summer absently by its sail somewhere east. Gallium and Cadmus were enjoying a nice cool cup of “Sea-Juice”, as Gallium called it. The juice up just about every kind of fruit they had on board, mixed with a little bit of seawater to taste. It tasted bad, but also strangely addicting. Even though the flavor made them gag a little, they continued to sip from their cups. A humorous drink indeed.
“So, Cadmus, what kind of women do you like?” Gallium asked out of nowhere. He wasn’t even looking at the white wolf, instead staring out into the horizon. Cadmus tilted his head, perplexed.
“That’s a strange thing to ask.” He said. His fur waved back and forth in the nautical wind.
“You want me to go first?” Gallium offered. Before Cadmus could answer “no”, like both of them knew he would, the dragon said his piece. “I like it when women aren’t easy to make laugh. I want a bit of challenge with it, so that I know I’m actually funny. Gets my heart pumping.” Cadmus stared at him for a while.
“That’s… certainly an interesting way of seeing things.” He said, deliberating his words carefully. After a pause, he sighed, giving in to Gallium’s trap of social exchange. “I don’t really know my ‘type’, I guess. Just a woman who shares my dream, I think. What’s the point of seeing every island in the world if you don’t have anyone to share that experience with?” After thinking for a bit longer, he added, “Though I guess a crew can do the same thing.”
“Well, there’s a couple differences in the experience,” Gallium smirked. Cadmus rolled his eyes at the implication.
“Of course you’d say that.”
“You see, if a lady in a bar reacted like that, I’d be head over heels in no time!” Gallium beamed. Cadmus’ stoic face cracked a little. He wondered how someone as flagrantly open about topics like this could have deceived the prison guards. Gallium was cracking himself up over his own jokes. For better or worse, the Lucky Summer had gotten a lot more lively.
