Oathbreaker, Book 1: The Knight's Tale - Colin McComb

The Sailor’s Tale
The errant knight met me on the streets of Westport. He offered money—and steel to back it up—
for us to carry him to his destination, but we turned him down. We thought that’d be the end of it.
The dockhands shouted curses at each other as they heaved the Ocarina to. We waited on board
’til they had finished, and when the massive breakwater gates slammed shut at the mouth of the
harbor, we started off-loading our cargo. As usual, we were exchanging friendly insults and
stories with the lubbers about the far-flung coasts we’d seen, but aside from the storms, the trip
wasn’t anything special, not like the time we’d seen a wizard’s castoff eyeing the ship hungrily
and we had to waste ten shots from the heavy guns at it. The ports we’d visited had been dull,
deadly dull. So we invented some tall tales to make ’em feel like they were missing out on more
than salt spray. But our hearts wasn’t in it, and they could tell, too. They didn’t rise to any of our
half-hearted jokes, and that put a damper on everyone’s night.
When it was done, we wanted to get to the Hulden guildhouse, get our pay, and go
drinking—that might put some life back into us, but likely it’d take another sea voyage to wash
this taste from our hearts. Besides, it was a dark night, and the sky was low with spring clouds,
and none of us wanted to spend any more time in what would likely be a hell of a gusher when
the clouds finally let loose. Still, we gathered the local gossip and discovered that we’d have the
guildhouse to ourselves, a rare occurrence indeed—the other ships the Huldens or the Dengs
controlled weren’t due in for a few days or had left earlier in the afternoon, laden with parts from
the forges, steamshops, and alchemical presses. There was a single dirigible docked at the mast in
the square, and that meant no friendly rivalries with those crews. We could have passed our time
by visiting the guildhouses of other merchants, but that usually led to brawls, and we'd have
enough of those in the days ahead, we figured. That was a last-ditch effort for fun.
Loading done, we collected our pay chits from Galves, the first mate, gathered our gear,
and tramped up the hills of Westport to our bunks at the Hulden Sailors Guild. If you’ve never
been, it’s a low-slung, rough stone building, with hewn beams and arches holding its weight.
With some crowding, it can hold about three ships’ worth of sailors—about three hundred. The
ranking officers and mates stay on board their ship. The guild’s outer walls are dark and its
Colin McComb Oathbreaker, Book 1: The Knight's Tale
59