The morning sunlight gently crests into my room; waking me from my slumber. I pull the thin covers over my head and stay there for a while. Collecting my thoughts and sorting my plans for the day I climb out of bed to dress.
I were a simple plain shirt with pants, tying a coarse rope for belt, and head to the kitchen to start a fire. I light the tender prepared the night before and grab a basket while making my way out the back yard where the henhouse is.
I remember building it myself but its already in need of repair not even a year later. I just don't have the time to fix it. The roof is leaking, the door doesn't close right, and if the backyard wasn't fenced it I'm sure the hens would have escaped by now.
Inside I collect the freshly laid eggs and feed the hens, they are always huddled in the back corner as far away from me as possible. I never understood why animals are afraid of me, but it comes in handy sometimes. Their was a younger kid getting attacked by a stray dog, but the moment I ran toward it, it fled as fast as it could.
Finished, I return inside to cook a breakfast of eggs and bacon, pocketing a slice to eat later.
From out in the dining hall, I hear the thumping of footsteps coming. Carrying the food still in the pan, I walk in to serve the many other children present. Each gets a small share of food so everyone fights to get more to eat, this is the only food most will eat for the rest of the day, it can get quite fierce.
Our orphanage is very poor, most of the older kids work jobs around town to bring in money just to keep the roof over our heads let alone bring any more for food. The bacon is what I buy to go along with the eggs.
I eat my serving in peace since the younger kids know I have to go to work. I take my dishes back to the kitchen to get cleaned and head for the front door.
As I'm about to leave the director stops me.
DIRECTOR
Good morning, Evin. Thank you for making breakfast and feeding the chickens.
I just lightly nod my head.
I don't really like this woman.
She tries her best to keep this place together but is incipient. It's her job to take care of us, not the other way around.
She was some kind of low noble from the mainland put here by her family to not embarrass them with her poor skills in both managing and socializing.
Banished by her own blood and yet she gets up every morning with a fake smile pretending everything is fine.
She's not much different from the kids she looks after and that's why I hate her.
I've never seen this woman without that fake smile plastered on her face.
DIRECTOR
Have a good day at work and stay safe.
I walk past her and continue through the door.
Making my way past the houses and businesses, dodging early morning commuters on horses and in carriages. I love hearing the sound of the ocean get louder. It's rhythmic beating, like the heart of the world, keeps me calm when I hear it.
Interrupting the sound of the waves the shaky footsteps of the sailors, coming out of the local bars, on their way to work. I try to keep away from them; I look to the piers where a few ships are docked.
Mostly fishing tartane today but their is a big commotion near the large merchant fluyt.
It's been docked for a few weeks now so I wonder if theirs a problem with the merchandise. As I'm pondering what could hold them up so long, I accidentally stumble into someone.
EVIN
Sorry.
I look up at a man I bumped into. He has a scary face full of scars and a fierce gaze like everyone owes him money. His dark brown hair is dirty and matted up with what looks like blood.
He looks to me. I reflexively look down towards his jacket where I notice a metal barrel sticking out.
If I wasn't so close I don't think I would have noticed it, but I try my best to pretend I didn't. I apologize again.
EVIN
So-
MAN
Lookout wer'ya going, girly.
The man the waves me off with a scowl on his face.
I quickly retreat but as I turn the next corner I look back to see the man catch up to a few others and start chatting with them.
I know this town isn't the safest, there are bar fights every night, but carrying pistols is against the law.
Even the local police are not allowed to carry a pistol, only soldiers are allowed to but its usually a long barrel musket.
I've seen the military once when a small band of bandits were being eradicated. They came back to parade the streets with the bandit leaders head.
I take one more look at the backs of the men and then start to run the rest of the way to work. I don't want anywhere close to possible pirates.
As I arrive at the dry dock I look for the foreman to get my work assigned for the day.
He tells me I'll be working on removing barnacles off a new ship that just arrived in port.
It's the best job since I don't have to talk to others and work at my pace.
I go to grab a scraper, rope, and a board while making my way to the deck of the ship. Making a platform, with the rope and board, I throw it over the side. I then tie the rope off to the railing and start climbing down. With the scraper tucked into my pocket.
The ship is a small clipper, designed for small cargo space but fast speed.
This one has a lot of mismatched boards across the hull so it seems to get repaired a lot. A few of the older looking boards have a lot of damage on them. It clearly has seen a lot of action.
While I was continuing scraping the barnacles off the hull, another board seat drops from above.
I notice the knot tieing the board and rope together is loose. It will unravel if weight is applied in the wrong direction.
A few seconds later a kid climbs down the rope to sit on the board.
CHILD
How are you always getting here first. I ran just to try to beat you and I still couldn't.
I didn't respond to him. I motioned to his knot and pointed at mine.
He didn't get what I ment and tried pulling it tighter, but it would still come loose if he swung it around.
Before I could tell him to fix it, a few more boards come from above so he starts talking to the others.
I tried to get his attention again but I could see the foreman looking at me from below, motioning to get back to work. I decide to get his attention later.
Once I see the foreman finaly stop paying attention to me. I again look to the kid just in time so see him trying to swing towards another of the kids who is holding out half a loaf of bread.
EVIN
STOP!
But, before he could recognize what I said, the knot unties and he starts to fall.
We are sitting about 30ft above the ground so if he fell now it would certainly kill him.
I use my legs to push off the ships hull, jumping out of my seat, to reach for both the kids outstretched arm and the rope that's hanging nearby.
(Rope pulling tight)
I managed to grab both but with the weight and momentum my hand is sliding down the rope at a fighting speed.
EVIN
Ahh!
I cry out in pain.
I look at my hand on the rope to see a red trail going up. It seems we are falling faster with the rope being lubricated with my blood.
The rope is quickly coming to an end so I look down to see how high we still are. We made it down about halfway, to 15 feet, the rope stops in another 5 feet.
When I feel the last of the rope slip through my grip I try to pull the kid towards me and protect him from the fall.
I brace myself for the incoming pain but instead I feel myself being embraced by multiple hands.
It still knocks my breath away but it seems I stalled for enough time to allow others to get below us.
My ears are ringing. My heart is racing.
Once we are let down I look to the kid still in my arms. He looks back at me with eyes filled with fear, shock, and, once he looks at my bloody hand, pain.
I follow his eyes and stare at it.
It doesn't look like my hand anymore. I can see something white surrounded by other bits of red and pink. It looks like a lump of flesh on the end of my arm.
To be honest it doesn't hurt as much as it should.
I look up again to see the other workers looking at my mangled hand with pain on their faces.
Behind them I see the foreman being pulled by another worker, he looks like he could care less but once people start looking at him he quickly changes his expression to one of sympathy.
I can't calm my racing heart, and I can barely suck in air. I focus on the barely audible sound of the waves lapping against the shore.
The foreman is saying something but im not listening to him. After a bit he just pulls me by my arm and starts to walk away.
He takes me to the local doctor who picks the rope fibers out of my hand. At this point I've calmed down but now the pain is so severe I feel like I'm going to faint. Especially when he digs his forceps in.
The doctor gives me a bitter medicine soup and, after picking the last of the rope out, slathers some kind of salve onto my hand. He finishes by wrapping it in cloth. The pain is slowly dieing down but it's still very much there. It throbs like the ocean waves.
The forman apparently payed for my visit since the doctor didn't ask me for money when I left. I'm kind of amazed the notriors penny pincher foreman actualy paid for my treatment but I guess it was mostly for appearance sake. I'm sure all the work I'm going to miss is not going to get the same treatment.
While I'm thinking of all the problems that's going to come along with a crippled hand I spot an old man, with a peg leg, limp into a bar.
I run to catch up with him and enter.
I look around, once I spot him inside, and sit in front of him while trying my best not to show my bandaged hand.
OLD SAILOR
Why good day mine bawbling friend. A pleasure, as aye. Mine what befell to thy hand? It looks ill damaged, are thou able to use it again?
I pull my hand back further and look at him with anticipation in my eyes.
OLD SAILOR
Quite as aye, yet i guess if thou be sure not having to talk that's thy choice. Yet thy belike not hither chastised by a corky sailor, thou desire to hark mine stories of adventures past, I be sure.
I nod and listen, enraptured, to the man's tales, forgetting today's events. He's a local fisherman I occasionally come to to hear his stories.
He spills tales about his time as a captain of a small fleet of ships that sailed all around the Agreshan isles.
Talking with boastful vigor about his interactions with the locals, battles against pirates, and encounters with mythical creatures like the Great Leviathan.
I listen to the mans tall tales till well past nightfall.
His stories are one of the few comforts in my life.
He notices the burning desire I have in my eyes. Going on adventures. Getting away from just surviving in this small port town. He leans in and whispers into my ear.
OLD SAILOR
Word of caution from a corky, superstitious, man. Whenever thou hie on long journeys at sea, drop as large a coin as possible into the sea ere leaving port.
I tilt my head in confusion and ask.
EVIN
Why?
OLD SAILOR
'tis an old story said from the natives of this land. They bid it The Thithe, offering to a slumbering God of the Sea for safe travel. Once 'tis said, I followed their advice and wouldn't thou wot. I've ne'r had ill sailing since.
BAR PATRON
That's hogwash old man. Why would some god want with our coins anyway. Can't spend it on ale or women at the bottom of the sea now can it?
I stopped paying attention to what they were saying.
All I could think about is what would happen if you knew you had to pay but still didn't.
I heard from some traveling mages and priests, just hearing about some Gods can give them power over you, didn't matter if you believed they even existed in the first place. Especially true for old gods.
Long after the sun set below the horizon, I walk into the orphanage.
The director calls welcome from another room but I ignore her and slink into my room and collapse into my bed.
The ball of pain still attached to my arm and the bacon from breakfast long eaten, I try to sleep to escape the hunger and pain.