By the time that Trenewynn and Cardëlassë had arrived at the harbor of Anor, the curtain of night had already passed over the sky.
Cardëlassë at once suggested a place to stay the night.
"The hour is too late, no ship will leave port this evening– the risk of raids by the lizardmen is too high. There is an inn nearby often used by the sailors. It is quality enough for a night."
"I thank you, sir Cardëlassë. I can find a ship to carry me for the morrow– and my own way to the inn. Fair winds to you, galadrim."
The elf let his head bow from atop his horse, "then I shall return to the eastern gate for now. Come find me if you have need of further guidence. I will be at the Anor Temple of Sòl at daylight should you require me before your departure."
From their parting Trenewynn proceeded to an inn called the Misty-Eyed Moorer. He tossed a copper piece to the innkeeper and asked "how much will a copper buy here?"
The innkeeper examined the coin and replied, "is this Aurius dynasty?"
"Yes, though the copper's still good quality."
The coin's luster had dulled and turned a dark color, but its size and thickness were authentic to Aurius era coins– and there was no mark of green corrosion. Unlike later dynasties, these had no ridges or corners on them. The particular coin that Trenewynn offered was slightly ovular due to clipping. The innkeeper gave it a bite and scrape to see if a cheaper metal had been gilded with aged copper.
Upon confirming the authenticity of the coin, the innkeeper replied, "the coin will get you a bowl of fish soup. Or a beer."
"What do you have?"
"House blend."
"Then, I'll pass on the beer, I will have that soup though."
Trenewynn set another two coppers on the table and added, "a bed for one night as well, please."
He set himself at a table near the east wall of the establishment and listened to the gossip of mercenaries and sailors.
Two gentlemen gossipped on the affairs of Anor, "Nelie! When's the beer gonna get here!?"
"Keep your damned head down and quit your queries lest I take the rat-bat and beat you with it!"
"God's damnit all… fancy sorts occupying the keep and now the inn is overcrowded with bloody mercenaries!"
"Fancy sorts?"
"Aye, cataphracts from Calia, Drake Knights from Drakkennide, and wizards from the Grey Tower in Helion. It's a damn mess in there— general Radovid is getting aneurysms trying to keep all the elites from fightin' each other in the city."
"Sounds like a storm's blowin' in. Better head east next voyage. Cap'n Max is plannin' a trip to Argentum to sell the latest ore shipment from the mines. Might be a time to take some work up there until things blow over down here."
"Ole' Max got himself an ore deal? How'd he manage that?"
"His cousin works as a steward for Baron Coscan, I've heard. Must've pulled some strings."
When Trenewynn's fish soup arrived, the conversation turned towards local politics in Sumelo– mostly complaints about rising city tolls and long-standing issues with infrastructure that were never addressed. Be it cracks in the roads, rotting wood on the docks, weathered statues in the city square, many such complaints bickered on how and which bureaucrats were responsible for misappropriating or misusing the taxes in some way that caused the decades of unresolved decay.
But while Trenewynn feasted on his humble but hearty supper, a queer bird perched itself on the windowsill and stared at him.
It was a raven surely by its polished coat– yet the marble paleness of its plumes made a mystery of the corvid, and beset its profile were two bejeweled eyes of cerulean light. Its caw was heard just once before the lady of the inn– Nelie, took the rat-bat from the wall and swung it about the window until the bird fluttered off.
"Damned queer bird! Trying to interfere with our business– gods forbid those superstitious sailors caught some jittery scare because of it."
Following supper Trenewynn proceeded to the upper floor of the inn and took residence at the end of the hall. His bed was a rough mattress made of straw and stretched leather. There was no blanket, desk, or even a chair. Only a window at the far end of the room that caused a cold sea draft to blow in. Trenewynn stretched and removed his outer robes to use as a make-shift blanket for the night.
He approached the window before going to bed and watched as a familiar bird perched itself on the sill.
The white raven cawed as Trenewynn slipped a piece of leftover fish into its beak. He whispered something in an unintelligible language to the bird and watched it fly away under the two moons.
Its form settled on the masts of a wooden vessel– two levels above sea and bearing cargo. It floated gently in the harbor and bore the head of a mercurial maiden etched into its point. Elegant curls from the bow rolled into the starboard and port naturally. A fine galley.
"Well then," said Trenewynn, "I guess I know which ship I'll be taking."
When the morning came, the raven was gone— yet the ship was bustling with activity. A loud and gravelly voice bellowed to the porters as they loaded cargo onto the ship.
"Haste ye sun-backed Mahadrums– get these ores onboard! We're set to leave an hour ago and the windless dawn awaits!"
Trenewynn spied one laborer who stumbled and dropped the crate they carried halfway the gangplank. The board creaked and a man below strained his bare back to hold the crate steady as it fell on the incline.
The captain hollered furiously, "sun-backed lubber! Keep your clumsy hands on the board porter!"
"Sorry, Cap'n Maxmillian, sir."
"Gods' and curses of the waves! Spare me your witless apology and get the bleeding crate on the ship!"
Trenewynn stood on the dock a few paces from the laborers, he hollered across the gap, "Hail sir! You're the captain of this vessel?"
"Aye captain I be for three years proper and seventeen winters spent at sea. Fourteen I served under captain Ottomoth and the Eliza's Gale, before she was dismantled that is. And what business be that of yours– unless you've business with me?"
"I would pay for passage. My destination is the port city of Argentum, can you accommodate one more?"
The captain took a pipe in hand and lit it with Blackgrass sourced from the western fringe of the city outskirts. It was a mild hallucinogen that caused the head to spin pleasantly, though it only grows near the Dark Mists and considered to be highly addictive. It was also a favorite of the Anor sailors.
"What're ya payin' for faring across the South Sea?"
"I can pay twenty pieces of Aurius bronze."
With a puff the captain uttered, "you've twenty bronze coins from Aurius? Found yourself a lost ship at the bottom of the Quendi did you?"
"I did not loot it— if that is your meaning. I acquired this money in trade."
"Hah! A sore fool no doubt to trade old empire coins with a backwater vagrant like you!"
"Will you accept my barter?"
The captain paused, he considered Trenewynn– sized the man and said, "fair enough sandwalker. I'll take you east. But be warned– the waters of the south are not so kind as the Al'asad. Expect to be beset by pirates of all unholy forms. Be it those Kar-folk, sea-lizards or gods forbid a siren, the South Sea does not spare the meek."
Sandwalker… a term sailors and soldiers of the west used to describe the Eastman peoples. Apparently they had mistaken Trenewynn for an exile of the Ankhalil.
The captain called out in a commanding voice, "mate!"
One sun-kissed man– wiry and lightly dressed approached. He set away a carving knife as he appeared before the captain.
"You called, Cap'n sir?"
"We've got ourselves some extra cargo to store— see him to the special quarters we keep for our additional baggage!"
"Aye Cap'n!"
The first mate cocked his head and shouted, "this way sandwalker."
Trenewynn boarded after another set of porters and followed the first mate into the lower deck. There was a small crawlspace between crates full of unprocessed iron ore that could barely squeeze one person in it.
"There you go, get comfortable. The voyage to Argentum is six months by sea– if the wind is good. Rations and water are your own business, we'll throw you over if you can't feed yourself. Can't have corpse illness spreading on the ship."
As the mate turned to leave he paused a step and added, "Oh, and if the pirates should raid us then you'd best obey Cap'n with the eagerness of a dog. Unless you'd rather to end up as a Kar'kashan slave or chum for the sea-lizards."
Trenewynn took a hand to his lids to pinch over the ridge of his nose. After a quiet breath he replied.
"I'll do my best to listen to the captain's orders."
"Aye… sandwalker."
The first mate walked up above deck and the Silver Maiden's cargo hold was stuffed by porters until a quarter of an hourglass' turn had passed. When the time for departure had come, Trenewynn was well squeezed in with the cargo and the oarsmen moved down below. First the lines were pulled from the docks and then the portside oarsmen pushed off to sea. For the next hour and a half thereafter, the sound of the captain and deck officer's shouting reverberated through the wood of the ship— and drums beat to the turn of oars in the salty soup of the sea.
As Trenewynn left the city of Anor behind, he left with it a contingency of hope in Aia. Then he cast his eyes through the oarlocks of the Silver Maiden galley and spied the white raven fluttering above the waves. Its wings beat it forwards to the east.