"Good afternoon, passengers. This is the pre-landing announcement for flight PN-17 to Vilste. Instances related to mana are prohibited during landing procedures, so please refrain from casting spells, summoning living creatures, or performing ritualistic magic. We also ask you to secure the provided security devices, turn off all Magically Engineered Devices and neatly arrange your items non-obstructively. Thank you for choosing Plaenair Aircrafts. We hope that you had a pleasant flight."
The smooth voice echoed around the airship, inciting the few passengers inside to follow its instructions.
Sat on the right side, two children, one tall and blonde, the other short and brown-haired, obediently fastened a leather belt around their bodies, attaching themselves to their seats. Further to their left, a young-looking gentleman with unremarkable features and plain black hair also obeyed the instructions, fastening the device with a slight struggle.
On the airship's left side, separated by a long, smooth wooden table, an elderly gentleman in a trenchcoat and low-top hat struggled to bind his security device. His captivating azur eyes, weathered by age but still as deep as the sea, darted around the room. Whether he silently pleaded for help or for the other passengers to ignore his plight remained unknown.
A foreigner with an exquisitely designed hat reached out to offer help, and the old man quickly fastened his belt with the much more vigorous person's assistance. He nodded toward the foreigner with a feeble smile and said,
"Thank you. As age comes, I can't muster strength like before."
The foreigner raised his hat and replied in an unknown language. The rest of the passengers thought it sounded like garbled nonsense, but the elderly man seemed to understand it.
"Indeed. Perhaps we are all victims of corrosion," he sighed, his eyes clouding hazily as he seemed to commemorate the past. Then, they sharpened again and he gazed inquisitively at the foreigner. "Do you not know Lurenth? It should be adequate to know at least a few sentences. After all, we are descending upon Vilste, Lurene's capital."
The foreigner laughed, shook his head, and pointed at his watch, then at his companion.
"Impressive! Not only do you have a custom-made Magically Engineered Device but your companion also knows Lurenth," the elderly man praised candidly.
The rest of the passengers witnessed the interactions between the old man and the foreigner with an odd expression. One spoke what could hardly be considered proper Lurenth, for it was riddled with a thick foreign accent, and the other replied in a rapid and aggressive-sounding language.
Soon, the flight attendant's smooth voice resonated once again.
"Dear passengers. Thank you for patiently awaiting the landing. Please proceed towards the left side and exit through the ramp and passageway provided to you. Thank you for choosing Plaenair Aircrafts. Please come again."
The foreigner quickly stood up and offered a hand to the elderly man with an eager face.
"I'll be fine on my own, but thank you for your help, young man." the old gentleman refused with a frail smile, standing up feebly. He pulled a golden coin from his sleeve and flicked it towards the foreigner, who caught it instinctively. "This is for your troubles. May fate let us cross paths again."
Ignoring the passengers' dumbfounded looks, the old man headed off the ship, supporting himself with a worn-out cane and occasionally wobbling from side to side.
The passengers were collectively surprised. The coin the mysterious elder gifted the foreigner wasn't any simple coin, it was a francis sterling. It was equal to a hundred Lurenth dames and more money than any middle-class person had ever seen.
"He looks like he's about to fall apart at any moment, and he's rich... How is he still alive?" the brown-haired child muttered to his blonde companion, who nodded.
Outwardly showing no signs of having overheard them, the young gentleman couldn't help but internally agree. Such a frail-looking rich man was the ideal target for any thief that lurked beyond Vilste's pristine walls. He grimaced at the thought that the elderly gentleman would soon turn up robbed of all his belongings, or worse, given that his body did not seem like it could handle being even slightly tussled by thieves.
***
"What a bother..."
Ilrune frowned as he rolled his shoulders. Hours of being a weak old man had drawbacks, and his muscles suffered from the strain, aching for a thorough stretching.
However, he was in no hurry to do such a thing.
He glanced disdainfully at the vulgar thief, who, fooled by his disguise, attempted to rob him. Scowling, he kicked him.
'So what if I'm being petty? It's not like the thief can protest.'
The unconscious man made no sound as his body slammed into the nearby wall. He flopped to the ground like a puppet, soundlessly.
Ilrune crouched beside the thief and searched his belongings and found a measly stack of banknotes that amounted to thirty-nine cavals, and some other miscellaneous belongings; a dull, reddish mineral ore, a plain deck of cards, and a rusty knife.
From the little Lurenth knowledge he had, Ilrune knew that cavals were at the bottom of Lurenth's currency. Nobles wouldn't be caught dead holding those measly notes worth almost nothing, since it was a common sign of poverty. Fifty cavals corresponded to a dame and he also knew that a hundred dames corresponded to a francis de sterling and that it was the banknote equivalent of a Lurenth gold coin.
Therefore, it meant that the money stolen was worth nearly nothing to someone like Ilrune, who, earlier, carelessly tossed a coin worth a hundred dames.
'Why couldn't thieves be richer?' he sighed inwardly as he transferred the thief's belongings into his bag. 'At least rob a wealthy person if you're going to commit crimes... If you only gain a measly thirty-something cavals daily, you might as well beg on the streets.'
Realizing that he had spent too much time in the same place after the initial scuffle, Ilrune quickly stood up and hurriedly walked out of the dark alley, heading towards a busy street. While the fight had been short, a neighbour most likely heard the noise and reported it to law enforcement. He wagered that officials would soon come running in. Even if Ilrune had done no wrong, he had an appointment waiting for him, and couldn't afford to waste time explaining away in the law office.
'The transfer should be happening soon. I have to hurry.'
Ilrune ducked into the crowd and weaved through the groups of merchants and bystanders, his hand clasped tightly against his bag. It was easy to be robbed in a place like this, and he was no stranger to the irritation that was opening your bag only to find your wallet missing.
It took him some turns and backtracking but after an eventful walk across Down Vilste, as the locals deemed the region, Ilrune finally saw Port Demer, one of Vilste's numerous harbours, nestled by a cozy gulf and bringing plentiful company; pirates, sailors, royal military, adventurers, and factory workers.
He slowed to admire the scenery painted by the numerous sailors constantly lugging boxes off from and to ships; the sea's distant glint brought a touch of charm to the otherwise chaotic harbour. Several grand ships were lined in an orderly fashion, each bearing Lurene's flag, white silk embroidered with the signature blue and gold royal emblem.
"Did you hear? Welxorth Academy has a new Dean!"
"Pal, she won't even have time to be Dean, I heard there's a shit ton of work, enough to fill an office with paperwork!"
"There's rumours of inter-teacher bullying too..."
"As well?! That's a lot of work waiting for her to finish!"
Stray gossip drifted into his ears and he inadvertently glanced at the small group of sailors hanging around. Surprised by the stranger's attention, the group fell silent as they watched him pass by.
Soon, Ilrune spotted his target; a lofty ship hanging around the dock's backside. It was an area known for hosting pirate ships if one ever needed to make land transactions. For some reason, its sides and the little of the deck he could spot were scrubbed squeaky clean.
'If wood could shine, I'd be already blind...' Ilrune joked inwardly as he glanced at the unblemished planks disbelievingly. 'No, but seriously, why is it so clean? I can't spot even the slightest remains of algae.'
Weaving through the crowd with a deft step, he quickly reached the wooden stairwell leading to the dock, which was surprisingly clean despite its obvious usage.
'Does the captain despise germs? Why's everything cleaner than an expensive inn?'
Ilrune had no time to find a response to his questions as a redheaded sailor approached him. Upon a closer glance, his outfit deferred from the other pirates: apart from being strikingly clean and well-ironed, his white and puffy silk blouse was unbuttoned which, coupled with the dozens of neck and waist accessories he wore, gave him an eastern and relaxed air. The gold jewelry clinked against his tanned skin with every step he took, contrasting with his green eyes.
'Bright hair, the looks of an eastern god, and the eyes the colour of deep-sea plants. He must be the renowned Crimson Fleet's captain.' Ilrune instinctively gave him a once-over as he nodded toward the pirate. "Good afternoon, Captain."
"Hm." the redhead nodded and held his hand out for Ilrune. "Perseis, captain of the Untouchable."
"Untouchable? I thought it was called the Crimson Fleet?" Ilrune prodded as he took the pirate's hand and shook it firmly.
The redheaded pirate's face remained impassive but there was no mistaking his cheeks' subtle pink tinge. He said evenly,
"You're mistaken."
'Just say that you're embarrassed by the fan name...' Ilrune nodded and smiled pleasantly, revealing nothing of his inner thoughts.
"Ah, I apologize. Yes, public attention must be bothersome..." he trailed off, interrupted by a worn-down wooden box shoved into his arms. Taken back, Ilrune couldn't help but let his eyebrows furrow in confusion.
"The goods you asked for. As agreed, the Untouchable is not responsible for any physical, mental, magical or spiritual harm that comes upon you through the product traded; we are merely the third-party handling trades. Therefore, we cannot be blamed for your short-sightedness..."
'How straightforward.' Ilrune listened politely as the redhead pirate recited the terms of their contract flatly, a never-ending speech. 'Also, do you really have the contract memorized?!'
His brow twitched as he couldn't help but feel that the blank-faced captain in front of him was pitiful. '...How often did he have to get in trouble to know the entire contract by heart?'
He stuffed the shabby-looking wooden box into his traveller bag and quickly took out a wad of silvery notes.
"Your payment," Ilrune smiled as he put the money into the redhead captain's hands. "It must've been hard to get the materials, so I added a small tip."
Perseis wrinkled his nose as he reluctantly took the money.
"There's no need. Most of it, like pufferfish, is commonly found in the Azur Bay."
The slightly cross look on him appeared out of place; the feared pirate looked like a childish sea prince.
'Azur Bay... I recall it was given that name because the first explorers chanced upon a beautifully blue bay shining bright under the sun.' Ilrune glanced at the greyish sea that rarely glinted azur nowadays.
The redheaded pirate also turned to look at the sea, sensing Ilrune's brief movement, but he saw nothing other than the usual depressing waves he sailed through every day.
"Is there anything else?"
Perseis' thoughts startled Ilrune out of his reverie and he leisurely shook his head, revealing a gentle smile.
"No, thank you for your services. May Fate bless your travels."
With these words, Ilrune touched his shoulder and lightly bowed. It was the gesture of the Church of the Fated One, an orthodox religion particularly popular with sailors. Without a doubt, the redheaded pirate shouldn't be an exception.
"Yes. May Fate bless your endeavours." Perseis nodded seriously, repeating Ilrune's gesture piously.
***
Only after Ilrune arrived at his room did he dare take out the wooden box containing the materials. Since pufferfish were poisonous and the main or auxiliary ingredient to worldwide famous poisons, he was sure to be rigorously interrogated by military officers about his use of such a creature.
Therefore, he had spent the walk back to the inn in a nervous, guarded state. He had clutched his bag close to his chest and rushed through the crowds. Passerbys would've described him as a mysterious black figure rushing past. As he was checking in with the inn owner, he felt like there was a severed head in his bag, not simple pufferfish poison.
The room was passable, furnished with only a bed and a table. Several newspapers were left on the table, courtesy of the inn owner.
Ilrune took out items from his traveller bag; a thoroughly used black inkstone that was beginning to fade grey, a long, thin steel case, and a pouch containing two glass bottles, one empty and the other only a quarter full of a deep blue liquid, various herbs, and a mysterious liquid sealed in an iron bottle covered with engraved spells. He set all of them down on the table, carefully arranging them in a sequence, starting with the inkstone.
After, what followed could only described as a bizarre ritual-like procedure.
He removed two herbs from the pouch and set them on the inkstone. The air rippled briefly, and the inkstone suddenly held finely ground herb powder instead of two plants.
Unperturbed by the magical display, Ilrune opened the wooden box. Neatly displayed, were two bottles labelled "Pufferfish Blood" and other glass bottles containing various sea plants with fantastical names; the Deep-Sea Flower, Crawling Wave, Corroded True Algae, and Blinking Seagrass.
He grabbed a bottle of pufferfish blood and poured it into the empty glass bottle he previously took out.
Then, he carefully transferred the contents of the inkstone to the bottle. The finely ground powder moved rashly inside the liquid as if it suddenly became sentient.
Finally, Ilrune reached out for the sealed iron bottle.
As soon as he opened it, the temperature in the room seemed to have dropped by several degrees. Shadows looked darker and the unshakeable feeling of being watched loomed over the room.
Unphased by the feeling, Ilrune carefully let a single drop of a translucent liquid drip into the glass bottle. He then quickly closed the iron bottle, and the strange feeling disappeared.
The glass bottle shook uncontrollably for a few seconds before it stopped. Instead of being bloody red, the liquid slowly revealed a deep blueish colour.
Ilrune had been successful with his potion-making.
'Now, I just have to wait for it to calm down.'
He leisurely reached for a newspaper, flipping through the pages absentmindedly. A flash of familiarity caught his attention as he turned the page, and, as Ilrune glanced at it, a strange sight was unveiled.
Bright eyes bore into his own, curving mischievously.
"..."
Impassively, Ilrune turned the page. However, his mind swarmed with thoughts, and his heart beat uncontrollably.
'I didn't expect to see my face in the news... That scared me.'
He carefully peeled the newspaper open, again, his eyes focusing on the well-drawn portrait of a youthful elf.
It was the face of a fugitive.
The face of former Elf Prince, Ilrune Elrieth.