Far from the back alleys and empty lots, the dock's wharf was far less 'occupied,' at least by people. Indeed, the entire dock was actually heaving with ships: everything from grand galleons to tiny merchant vessels were all crammed into whatever available space that could be found, all bobbing along to the waves that washed in below them. While the capital's docks were always busy and rarely unoccupied, this kind of activity was unprecedented, though it did make sense. The crowning of a new monarch was auspicious occasion, one that no self-respecting well-to-do individual would miss. While many an entrepreneur had arrived by land in gilded carriages, many more had floated into the city by sea, both as passengers and masters of their vessels.
Both passengers and masters were nowhere to be found, however; barring the occasional group of sailors coming and going to one ship or another, the dock was nearly completely unpopulated. Almost.
"-But the sign clearly states that you 'are available for rent or transport at all times!'" A young woman all but yelled at the unaffected sailor, throwing an arm out in an impotent display of frustration. She struck quite a curious figure, being covered head to toe by an all-encompassing mantel of the deepest shade of blue, with her hood drawn up. While the garment was not especially flashy, it was of remarkably well-crafted and was clearly made using some fairly expensive materials. It appeared to be something that a noble or a member of the court might wear while travelling on particularly chilly nights. She cut quite the contrast standing before the sailor, who clothes looked like they had been patched a thousand times (in addition to looking like they could do with a thorough wash). Said sailor looked unimpressed with the girl's outburst, and simply pointed back to the sign.
"Yea, and it also says that you have to 'ask for times and prices.'" The sailor, his tired expression doing a good job of showing his annoyance, grunted.
"Not 'come and go whenever you damn so well please.'"
"I-di-" The girl spluttered for a second, before pointing a perfectly manicured finger at the man.
"Are you saying you would really turn away my offer!?"
"No, I'm saying I'm gonna make twice as much when my passengers pay to get back home." The sailor gestured to his boat with a nod of his head.
"So unless you can match the price of a thirteen men, you can wait until after the coronation, like everyone else."
The girl lowered her finger, looking skeptically at the beat up, partially rotting boat that she was arguing for. The thing looked like it could barely stay afloat, let alone carry thirteen men
anywhere. Just as she was thinking whether this choice of boat was really her best option, the sailor's eyes narrowed, causing her to stiffen under his now suspicious gaze.
"…Why do ya want leave before the coronation, anyway? Hell, why did you come knocking to my boat, demanding to leave right away, at this ungodly hour? Anyone else might think you got something to hide…"
"Err, I-I am needed elsewhere." Taking several quick steps back, the girl inclined her head just slightly.
"G-good night to you, sir."
Turning on her heel, the girl began to walk away at a speed that was just too fast to be leisurely or natural. The girl could feel the sailor's eyes digging into her back, like the weight of his gaze was leaving the imprint of a target on her flesh. Beneath the heavy material of her mantel, her hands rose up her chest and started wringing each other. Just as she was convinced she was actually going to have to run, she heard a bark of laughter ring out across the wharf.
"Aye, good night to you, girl. Careful on your way with all that gold ya carrying."
The girl tensed to a standstill as every sailor, dock worker, and any other waking soul within earshot, turned to look in her direction.
Suddenly, the only sounds to be heard were the creaking of the ships, and the crashing of waves against the shore.
The girl faltered for a second longer, before she finally managed to draw on some hitherto unknown source of courage. Admittedly, it was only enough to force herself to put one foot in front of the other, but at least she was moving. Not that walking did much to alleviate the searing feeling of at least a dozen eyes watching her movements, nor the feeling that her coin purse was all at once too heavy. Her breath sounded too loud, and her heart hammered against her ribs like it was trying to escape.
After what felt like the longest minute in the girl's life, she was finally clear of the wharf, and out of range of the rabble that had watched her leave. Feeling the hand of fear finally relinquish the grip on her lungs, the girl allowed herself a few breaths, before she resumed her walking. This time, though, she wasn't sure of her destination.
Her plan would have benefited from…nay,
needed a passage via sea. To exit the city by land invited all sorts of complications, not the least that it might not be possible. But if not even a gold hungry seadog like that sailor would bite at her lure of wealth, what were the odds any would accept her offer? Until the coronation was over, not a boat would budge and she needed to leave
tonight, let alone after the coronation.
The girl, in her aimless wandering, mindlessly turned down into a tight space between two buildings, one hand running along the rough brick as her thoughts continued to spin and drift.
For one, even if she did make it out of the city, what then? Her supply of gold, while substantial, would not last forever. Once these precious coins were spent, all of her contingences would fall apart, putting her into some real danger. Hell, her gold might actually
put her into danger. While not one of those ruffians had made a move, just the sheer mention of gold had drawn their eyes. She wasn't naïve: outside of the city, bandits and brigands would have no qualms about robbing an innocent, if they didn't kill her first.
Slowly, slowly, the girl came to a halt. The hand that had been idly running along the wall shifted, moving to support her weight as she leant into the cool shadow of the wall.
…Maybe this whole idea had been ill conceived. There was still time to go back…
…
…No.
The girl shook her head. She couldn't just give up at the first hurdle. For every problem, there was a solution. She just needed to figure out what solution she needed right now.
Looking into the night sky past the cowl of her hood, the young woman cast a net into the swirling pool of her ideas. Without conscious effort, she began to fidget with a silver ring wrapped around her right index finger, her left fingers tracing it's warn surface.
…Really, what she needed more than anything, was someone who could protect her against physical threats. Everything else she could deal with, but just having someone could do all of the heavy lifting would make life much-
"You swindled me!"
"Huh!?" The girl jumped in place, turning left and right. For one fearful second, she was certain one of the sailors from the dock had cornered her, but she realized the voice was coming from a little ways away.
"The grain you sold me was molded! I couldn't even make a loaf of bread with the bushel you sold me."
Grain? Bread? Who was –loudly- arguing about bread at this time of night?
The girl briefly considered heading in the opposite direction of the voice, but decided to indulge her curiosity. It was just grain and bread, how dangerous could the situation be?
After ducking and passing though a few more twists and alleys, the girl had her answer- and it turned out grain and bread must have been a pretty serious matter in this part of town, judging by the fact
everybody was armed.
The girl rapidly backed up around the corner she had nearly turned, letting out a strangled gasp as she did. A dread filled second passed before she finally resolved to peek around the corner, her pupils shrinking as she confirmed her fears that nearly every soul present was armed. Some of the weapons might have been crude, but the girl never the less felt a shiver of fear slink through her. The two men who were directly arguing were growing more furious by the second, and the girl had seen enough negations go south to know that it was going to reach the point where only bloodshed would satisfy both parties.
Just as she about to sneak away, however, the girl's eyes came to rest on one of the armed individuals. It was not their fine sword that had arrested her gaze, even though it was the only actual weapon in play, but rather the wielder.
"…Is that…a woman?"
A woman with rose coloured hair, armed with a sword, going up against three men? The observing girl had never heard of such a thing, and yet the swordswoman seemed to be barely phased by the odds.
Despite every sensible part of her screaming that she should just flee, the girl stayed rooted to the spot, eyes widening as rose-haired woman reached for her blade.
"I guess that's my cue."
