Bastian chuckled at the flower's behaviour. Once he had his hands on a ship he could do anything, she just hadn't seen his full capabilities.
He looked up at the maid who was silent. Both of them were illuminated by the glowing fire.
"What do you think?" He asked curious to know what she thought of the conversation.
Her eyes looked up at him startled and confused, she was a very jumpy thing.
"Think of what, my Sovereign?" She asked looking down.
"What she just said."
The maid seemed to think on this, "I believe that my Sovereign is gifted in the area of ships and such," He smiled at this, 'See, even the maid agrees.'
"But, I do believe her majesty has a point in saying that each time that the Sovereign attempts to gain a ship it does not work and our lives are put at risk."
He frowned and wasn't sure how to reply, Samadur had told him not to get a boat because it would be dangerous but there had been no danger. Babang's ship had sailed marvellously.
Sighing agitatedly he was about to climb inside the coach but the flower was in there.
He stood and contemplated the matter when the maid spoke up, "If the Sovereign is looking for a place to sleep there is the roof, it is sound." She said as she carefully put out the fire.
Grumbling to himself he climbed the coach and readied himself for sleep.
The trio woke at early dawn and set off on their journey.
~~~~~~~~
Three days have passed since then and they are now arrived at Anaklios.
As they approached the city they could see the massive vineyards and the twisting olive trees growing on the large fields surrounding the town.
The day was sunny and smelled of the grapes and olives they were surrounded by. Autumn had set in and now was the time of harvest.
The people were all busy in the massive gardens, each wearing the Wanington dress that Hydrangea was used to seeing now; the women wore long draping dresses usually clasped around the waist, with scarves draped around their arms and falling to the earth.
The young children ran in and about the workers, laughing and giggling as they chased each other. Hydrangea smiled sadly as it reminded her of two of her younger brothers, Hickory and Palmer. Palmer was a rather solemn boy but he was only nine and his younger brother Hickory could always get him to laugh and play.
With her heart filled with longing to see her family again she exited the parked coach and with Brigitte and the Sovereign they began to explore the busy town.
The buildings were strange, they had only passed by very small villages that were populated by small huts and barns but these buildings were lustrous and tall, some were low lying but all were carved of stone.
Hydrangea drew her hair down the right side of her face when they walked past a tailors.
Brigitte halted in her steps as well when she took notice of the sign.
Bastian continued walking and stopped after a while of not sensing the women behind him. Turning he saw that they were both transfixed with a ship with a sign above it that read TAILOR.
Rolling his eyes at the sight he walked back to them pulling his freshly cleaned coat to cover his sword.
People walked past the pair of frozen women and into the store.
"Ladies?" He called.
The flower turned to look at him, her face that had tanned ever so slightly in the last month, was not happy.
"We're getting new clothes." She said and both women stalked into the shop. He followed and found a small shop filled with rows and rows of fabric, in the far right corner there was a screen and mirror. The flower and the maid were standing at the front desk to the left of the room ordering fabrics and such.
The tailor called in two seamstresses and the brought the two women over to be measured.
"I'll be searching the town for information." He called to the women and saw the flower nod as she admired a piece of fabric.
Walking out of the shop he rolled his eyes and scoffed, 'Women.'
Walking through the active streets he attempted to pick up any tidbits about what was happening in the country. He felt very uninformed and he didn't like it.
As he was strolling down a quieter street he found a tavern. He nearly gasped for joy. It had been too long since he'd had a decent drink and he might also learn of some information regarding his island.
Walking in he was met with boisterous laughter, the reek of alcohol and pipe smoke. He smiled happily.
Meanwhile at the tailor shop Brigitte and Hydrangea had just purchased two new dresses in Wanington style, these would help them to blend in. Along with some fabrics so they could stitch some new clothes and cloaks for the trio. And with their new coach they could easily store their purchases in it.
They were both feeling energetic from their—so far—good start to a day.
Exiting the store both women looked to see where the Sovereign was when Brigitte reminded her Queen that he'd said that he would look about the small city.
Hydrangea nodded and feeling reassured they took the coach along with their two horses to the livery.
Like the town, it was also different from the livery they'd seen in Waxingville.
The livery was not called a livery and instead called a stables. The very low lying building was built outside of the town and had a large, sandy courtyard in the centre. The front of the courtyard was fenced in but the gate was left open for customers. In front of the fence we're trees and a few plants but most flowering ones were not in bloom.
Parking their dilapidated coach on the side of the dirt path that led up to the stables they unhitched the horses and plodded up the path, both having donned their new Wanington dresses.
Hydrangea pulled the scarf covering her head lower down as a man with a donkey passed by them.
Passing through the gate they could hear the sound of a hammer on anvil and of horses whinnying and hoof hitting the ground.
Brigitte handed the reigns of the horse in her hand to Hydrangea and she nodded encouragingly to the gentle woman.
They'd decided, to be on the safer side, that Brigitte would do the talking and that Hydrangea would hide behind the horses.
While brushing the horses' manes out with her fingers while the two old stallions drank from the watering trough she kept a steady eye on Brigitte.