Chapter Zero: The Devils of Tides

Dwarven Thice tempered glassware should be a little more durable than some poorly cut crystal. If you were interested I have that, as well as many other wares aboard ship which you may be interested in.

The burgomaster stroked his chin and pursed his lips, considering the matter intently.

"The crystalware was splendid to behold, but it also demonstrated the value of function and serviceability; something handsome which shatters with the slightest firm touch fails the purpose of its fabrication. And it constitutes a waste of good gold, at that."

With two fingers he gestured for the guards nearest the door. "Find four laborers at the docks--whichever you find idle--and bring them here by order of the burgomaster. Master Ainsley would show his glasswares for us. And on that note, Ainsley, how much glassware have you come to offer, and at what price?"


Corwin >

Well, as far as what I'm offering Herr Burgomeister, we have a wide variety available, but specificially I wished to bring to your attention something new which I found in It's called "Dwarven Ironglass"

The burgomaster nodded his consent. "Ironglass. It sounds promising by name alone, but is it both durable and elegant? How many such wares would you bring for my appraisal? Bear in mind that you will have four of my workers at your call...."




Corwin >

first off, the wyvern will not be left on deck when we leave port... I'd rather lose 7 tons of average woodware than that.

Well you're in luck Burgomeister, I have one ton of the Ironglass left, the craftsmanship is superb, and I have seen it's durability with my own eyes. It would be an heirloom that could be passed on to your heirs for generations, with the tale of how they were aquired growing larger and more far fetched with each generation. In addition I also have some very elegant red glassware you may be interested in. In addition whoever provisions your garrison may be interested in some of our more common products, all at excellent prices.

"Very well," Ionelhoff exhaled with a furrowed brow. "You keep your bargaining veiled, but your words are fair and graceful, and you do find me in a state of need regardless. I will see your ironglass and your redglass, as well as samples of whatever else your ship offers. And do be swift about it, for other matters lie pending for me."



The wooden goblet rolled between Ionelhoff's fingers, with his eye taking in every spot and grain in the sanded, tempered cedar. The goblet was hardly fit for the port's more distinguished folk, but the burgomaster seemed to have something else in mind.

Rising from his simple throne, he held the goblet firmly in the space between himself, Corwin and the people of his court. "So many servants in this house...so many commonfolk attending our great feasts and festivals...so many visitors visiting our taverns and breaking their plates and cups, then demanding that the implements be replaced out of Felsenstadt's coffers...why should I spend more for glass, crystal and terra cotta for things which will come to such ends?"

The writing quill seemed to leap from its inkpot and into Ionelhoff's fingers as he jotted down item after item and figure after figure, nodding and humming his appraisals to himself. A minute later, the bleached paper was handed to Corwin, its red ink still moist and glistening in the lamplight.

"Pray tell me if this sum meets your expectations, Captain Ainsley."



Corwin >

corwin will accept the deal , cuz he in your houze, dealin with yer burgomeitsurz

I would be more than pleased to accept your most generous offer. Will your men require any assistance with arranging for transportation from the Woodwitch?

at this point corwin is just glad to get out of here in one piece, he can always come back and burn it to the ground at a later date

S.E.A.M.U.S wrote:

corwin will accept the deal , cuz he in your houze, dealin with yer burgomeitsurz

"A fine bargain it is," the burgomaster beamed, warmly clasping the hand of the seafarer whose very name he had first hated. "And yes, I would be grateful if your crew could help my laborers offload the cargo. My men shall take up coffers and join me at the docks. Let us see to it that all is in order, Captain Ainsley."

With a brisk wave and a few firm words to his council, he summoned for his watchmen and attendants as he escorted Corwin back to the docks of Felsenstadt.



"There we are, then. Six-hundred groschen, neat and tidy."

Corwin's fingers sifted through the coin, ensuring the burgomaster's honesty. Mister Stevens hefted a crate of the red glassware from the shallow hold and into the hands of a waiting roustabout, who lugged it from the Woodwitch's deck and stacked it in a neat pyramid with the other crates, straining and grunting with each step. Dusk settled across the port city, and stars came forth to mirror the pinpricks of lamplight among alleys and edifices.

"You have proven fair in your dealing with us," Ionelhoff gave in praise as he drew his violet cape around himself against a stiff sea breeze. "I must stand by my views on the House of Ainsley, though you yourself seem cut from an entirely different cloth. My advice for you is to part from them in all affairs, perhaps even deny your own name. Naught but villainy springs from that house. Keep a vast expanse from them, lest they draw you into their perdition. Bountiful travels to you always, Captain Ainsley."

With a final command barked to his laborers, Ionelhoff and his armsmen returned to the high hill and its manor of dominion. The minutes at the docks passed well into an hour of lifting and lugging and shuffling and stacking. The roustabouts had extracted all of the proffered cargo from the hold, and the stacks would find their way to the city's warehouses before twilight fell into night. Corwin and Stevens strode across the gently rocking deck and into the captain's quarters, to brush the ever-full beer tankard aside and place Ionelhoff's given coffer of coins with the larger coffer native to the Woodwitch.

"Captain," Stevens interjected, "we have brought the wyvern carcass into the hold, as you demanded. Will we have further business in Felsenstadt this eve?"


The Woodwitch's cargo, at present:

A Tankard of Endless Beer (to be kept in Corwin's quarters, where only he may lay his hands on it)
6 tons of smoked ox cuts, Good quality
3 tons of smoked salt pork, Average quality
5 tons of salt-pickled pork cuts, Good quality
7 tons of cattle-ox beef sausage, Good quality
11 tons of salt-marinaded thresher shark steaks, Superb quality
4 tons of smoked wild turkey, Superb quality
2 tons of smoked herring, Poor quality
1 ton of smoked and salted wyvern meat, Rare and Exquisite quality


The Woodwitch’s coffers now hold 2,977 Gold.
Total Tonnage: 39 tons out of 50.

The Woodwitch currently has enough provisions to sustain her crew for 16 days (not counting those 39 tons of meat, if worse comes to worst...).


Corwin >

I think it's high time we arrange for a bit of shore leave for the men, seeing as we're well ahead of schedule.

Mister Stevens, this evening I would appreciate if you could take half the men out for a bit of celebration. From your time with Captain Stillwell I trust you to know a place in this town where the men won't get into TOO much trouble.

Oh, and send Rankin in when you leave. I plan to have a few words with him before he slacks off and starts into the grog stores.


Try and keep your wits about you, I've heard that this port can get a bit rough at night.

"Aye, Captain," Stevens nodded crisply. "If I can find any tavern to equal the Silvered Goblet of Nellowswan's Mooncrag Reach, the men should be content with it. Sweet ale with just the right pinch o' the tongue, pork that peels clean from the bone, an attractive absence of guttersnipes and a doorman who's more to his duties than a common alley thug...aye, surely Felsenstadt has such a place. And I can find it."

A smattering of unremarkable words passed between Stevens and his captain for a few moments more. With a beaming salute, Stevens marched down the gangplank to rejoin his shipmates there, bidding their farewells to the city's roustabouts. A heavy hand clapped firmly on Rankin's shoulder, and sharp whispers hissed from Stevens' tongue to the rowdy's ears, eliciting a wide-eyed blanch.

Rankin turned from the throng and slouched up the gangplank, looking entirely dismayed to receive Captain Ainsley's notice again. With wavering lips and a timid, perspiring gaze was Corwin greeted. "Cap'n, I've not 'ad a drop this eve, I swear on me mother's grave!"


Corwin >

I know that you havn't Rankin... I have need for someone with your skills this evening. I trust you to know the cheapest dockside taverns in this godforsaken town, and you and I will be making the rounds together tonight. There is someone I need to find, and my guts tell me that's where I'll find him.

Though visibly relieved by Corwin's words, Rankin stammered out a timid reply all the same.

"Uhh...roight. Leh...lemme think for a bit, Cap'n. The last time I made port 'ere was...uh...was two or three years back. I graced two ratholes down along th'water wit' me coppers, an' assumin' that neither alehouse has since burned t'the bloody flagstones, they might 'ave me yet again.

Th' Gutted Harpy 'ad a rude assortment o' rough an' colorful characters as meself...sailors, roustabouts, marines an' a few fellas whom I'm roight sure were pirates keepin' their heads low. 'ad two lads get killed inna bar fight th' night afore. Not a bouncer in th'place, not since th' last one got throated for wooin' the wrong fella's wife. Ale tastes like th' salt off an auld mariner's nethers. Buildin's auld, untreated pine, an' I swear what keeps th' blasted house t'gether is termites holdin' hands. Damned rough an' wretched place, e'en for such a shoreside tavern as that.

Th' Fattened Swine is no' much better. Plenty o' bouncers an' rough sorts keepin' the drunkards from gettin' too rowdy, an' well-to-do folk feel safe enough t'sometimes go there an' hire thieves an' thugs for their dirty work. Barfights to be 'ad, sure, but most don' end with some daft deck-scrubber gettin' a knoife in 'is liver, so tha' counts for civiloized b'havior there'bouts. Rumors o' some assassins for hoire in a secret room in th'cellar, but I was smart enough t' not go stickin' my nose around for 'em. Tavern also comes wit' a few harlots t' go up to your room an' keep ya warm all night, goin'...oh, for 'bout two silvers an hour. Mos' of th' drinks are swill, but they brew a house bumbo call' Whore in a Bottle. Roight good drink for two gilders a bottle."

Rankin inhaled sharply, hoping that his lengthy answer had satisfied his captain's ears.

"So...which den o' pints an' lowlifes shall we grace first, Cap'n?"


Corwin >