The bar was a dimly lit den of smoke, laughter, and the clatter of tankards slamming against wooden tables. The scent of old spilt ale and faint memories of charred meat clung to the air as a bard plucked a lively tune on a lute, barely audible over the rowdy patrons. A group of gamblers hunched over a dice game, their shouts of triumph and groans of loss adding to the chaos.

  "I don't know what they feed the girls here but I swear those tits were the size of melons. You could fit your entire head between the honkers. Fucking drown in them. But come on, I get she has a rack but why is she charging so much?" A sailor who was standing with one leg on the stool leaned back, his hands cupping the air in front of his chest.

  "What can I say? Your mother’s a busy woman." A burly sailor, his muscular arms adorned with colourful tattoos of a woman in a rather ambitious state of undress quickly responded, making the people around the table cackle like madmen.

  "Shut your shit-filled mouth, you pigskin of a deckhand." The standing sailor hissed before trying to elbow his comrade, lifting the cup and shrouding his dice before slamming it down.

  "Hahaha, your turn landswimmer." A hand nudged Alex to play.

  The wind tugged on the Senchor's loose shirt causing him to turn. He quickly turned back seeing a lone wanderer enter the dockyard inn, he called home for the past few days awaiting a sign.

  "I think the table has more than eight ones."

  "Hah, say goodbye to that coin." Someone laughed as the thief skipped the guess for six or seven while showing a solitary one under his cup.

  "Alexandre?" A voice sounded behind him, and he recognised the oddly joyful accent of a curseling he sometimes worked with.

  "Yeah?"

  "We need to go now."

  "Now?" Alexandre asked looking at his wager in the centre of the table.

  "Going before seeing the dice?" A sailor suddenly asked the two? "Scared of being wrong?"

  "Nah, I know I won but rules are rules. If my dice loose make sure to get a family discount." Alexandre heard a laugh as he was pulled out of the inn by the curseling wearing the skin of an old man.

  "You looked plumper the last time I saw you." San maneuvered through the alley before stopping in front of a seller for ice storage and turning to the ratty noble.

  "The last time you saw me, the bread didn't cost me the clothes on my back. Fish are cheaper but the guards grab whomever they see fishing. I don't know what those potheads are thinking. People are getting desperate especially after that Flinter barge carrying grain burst into flames."

  "Hmmm, it wasn't pretty what happened to the workers afterwards." San's remark made Alex remember the mob justice the people on the pier did to the people jumping off the ship before the local magistrate could arrive.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "So what am I to unlock today?" The younger man asked, eager to do something other than sit around.

  "There will be a ship docking today, in a bell or two and we need to unlock a door on it for our people to do their magic." San pulled the heavy wooden door to the cellar and led Alex in to discuss their plan.

  The assignment seemed standard, if not easier than usual. The ship belonged to some merchant House and was on course between Flinter and the warm port of Yorg-berg. From the port ledger he received, the crew of The Unsinkable II numbered about two dozen but most would leave to shore leaving the ship with a skeleton crew of new hires and quartermaster.

  He eyed the illusionist beside him, noticing the energetic smile San wore which seemed to nudge the thief to hurry up.

  "Excited about something?"

  "You don't know?" The coal-black face twisted into a slight frown as the two flames inside his eyes grew with shock.

  "San, I was stuck waiting for you since I freed one of Khalida's informants from the dungeon."

  "Right, you ever heard of the Bell of Joy?" San asked with zeal.

  "The word bounced off my ear once or twice."

  "You should have been there! The leadership came down, right to us, and declared it, our moment is here! The time to cast off centuries of mage tyranny is finally upon us!"

  "Today?" Alex raised an eyebrow.

  "No," San's puffed-up chest deflated in disappointment. "They say it's nigh. I wish they could tell us when I just can't wait to punch some Geni'i in the face."

  "San, if they told you. You would start a brawl the moment you knew the date." Alexandre replied giving back the ledger and motioning to the sad-looking half-curseling that he was leaving.

  The clouds above Oriripol darken as the day comes to a close. Despite the late bell, the port comprising the entirety of the southern portion of the massive walled city bustled with never-ending activity. Managers shouted toward the ships, advertising their team to aid in unloading the monumental barges and trade ships which lazily made their way down the Vitas.

  Unlike the barges which upon reaching Havenfall were scrapped for timber. Ships built in the woodlands near Flinter or Firmusa could return to their mother ports, requiring teams of hydro-mages to fight the strong current. And the calm Demiurge Bay which Oriripol watched over, offered a halfway stop for the returning crew to rest.

  Alexandre stared at one of these wave-breakers, easily the size of the tallest houses in Oriripol. The bow formed into the mouth of a great beast which swallowed the water inside the ship before being pushed out through the openings at the side made to look like fins.

  "Four gold and a promise to unload everything in half a bell?" The newly disembarked captain pulled a face as he spoke to the woman in charge. His expression, one of Are you trying to go out of business vanished in an instant, replaced by the professional mask of a merchant. "You have a deal."

  "Great, let's get to the magister." The Oriri woman with a light orange-tan smiled before turning around. "Go in lads, show those ladies to the right how you unload a ship."

  The Senchor was slow compared to these veterans who moved barrels and heavy sacks with such dexterity one could forget about the wood screeching under their weight. He tried his best to help, or to at least make himself think he was doing something until a chirp made him drop the crate he carried, knowing most of the crew was on shore. Men with wings tattooed on their large forearms didn't say anything as the thief slipped under the deck. Activating his abilities, his footsteps went silent as he moved toward the stern.

  The smell of salt, embedded itself into the wood of the ship despite the sweet water of Vitas encompassing it, rolling the wooden behemoth like a mother cradled a child.

  A crew member slept on a hammock, a carpenter by the brief glance Senchor gave him. Preferring the old man get his sleep, Alex moved around the crew area dividing the ship cargo in two.

  The sound of a knife gently brushing against a leather sheath, a clack of metal and a deep sigh. The locks taken from ships were always an age behind what was on land. It wasn't like a crew member had a lot of privacy to hide pick-locking tools, nor was there a lot of time for them to fiddle with the bulky iron locks without an officer noticing.

  Conserving his energy, Alex shook his hand. The knife trembled violently as it rattled inside the keyhole.

  *Click*

  A bolt flew open and the door to the other cargo area whined as it opened.

  Thin rays of light shone into the dark store room and Alexandre saw the room gleam as the ship rocked from side to side. Peaking his head inside, the would-be noble-turned-thief saw rows of neatly arranged weapons and armour.