Far, Sypheros 20th, 998YK

Sasolin loved riding the airship. The wind in her hair, whipping around her thick, ram-like horns as she turned her head, it was a feeling like no other. This feeling, this flight, it was freedom. Free from the squabbles of the nations below, free from the debts she had got herself into. She always imagined that one day she would fly up, up, up all the way to Siberys. For this reason, she almost exclusively sat on the deck, warming herself on the fire elemental that was bound around the ship as day turned to dusk.

As the last of the sun’s light faded, E.C., the dragonmarked gnome that accompanied the crew, came up from below deck and sat beside her. He was not a young gnome by any mean or measure, grey in hair and neatly trimmed beard, but he was still sprightly enough to accompany them in all their adventures of daring do. He was the official House Sivis Laison, and it was his job to manage Sasolin and her crew. All jobs came through him, and had reported all jobs back to the house. He reflected this by making sure he was the best dressed of all of them. This evening, it was a crisp white shirt, paired with dark blue slacks, a tight waistcoat, and a pair of half-moon spectacles. He had left his collar unbuttoned as the sole sign that he was relaxing, and you could see the greater mark that crawled up his neck.

Sasolin had a somewhat complicated relationship with E.C. In one way, he was her boss, and she had to report to him whenever she did something stupid. On the other hand, she was captain of her crew, a crew which included him. On the battlefield, her command was not to be defied, and he would be in no position to pull his rank. Occasionally, there was a power struggle between them, but Sasolin always tried her best to keep things civil.

“That could have gone better.” E.C. stated. Sasolin rolled her eyes. She was getting tired of his pessimistic view all the time.

“It could have gone much worse. At least we’re all alive.”

“It could have gone better.” The gnome reasserted. “Now my report’s twice as long as it had to be.” E.C. brought out a hip flask, a took a haughty swig. When Sasolin gave him that weathering look she used to try and curb his drinking, he told her, “It’s to help me warm up. You don’t want me to freeze to death, do you?”

“It’s not that cold, really. The fire elemental keeps you warm.” Sasolin pulled her coat tighter, a relic of her time serving the Brelish army.

“You forget, you run hot. It’s that fernian blood. That fire that propels the ship, you have that samefire in you.” E.C. moved closer to the elemental, but he did not stop drinking.

Sasolin stared into the fire for a minute. She knew her blood was tied to Fernia, but she wouldn’t have chosen it. She liked to imagine that in another life, she was planetouched by Syrania. Maybe then she would’ve been blessed by flight.

The khoravar interrupted this train of thought. “10 minutes until landing!” He had a speaking stone in one hand, communicating with the skydock on Lyrandar tower. Sasolin peered over the edge, and saw the twinkling of lights from the towers below. She hadn’t returned to the city of towers in years, not since she’d started working with the postal guild. It felt strange to be back.

E.C. peered over too. “Don’t get too reacquainted,” he told her. “When we touch down, we have about an hour before we need to catch the lightning rail. The next job’s taking us to the Shadow Marches.”

Sasolin raised an eyebrow. “The rail doesn’t travel to the Marches. Sharn’s end of the line.”

E.C. looked at her over his spectacles. “In the years we have worked together, have I ever been wrong? Can you not trust that I know what I’m talking about? I’m not senile, you know.”

Sasolin kept looking at him.

He relented. “You need to read the newspapers I get. It was a massive project to expand the rail and the mining operations. Finished last week.”

Sasolin asked, “And it’s all on Sivis’ tab?”

E.C. grinned. “Absolutely.”

Sasolin got up, starting to gather her things in preparation for landing. “Well, that’s alright, then.”

~

“Hey!” Sasolin heard while carrying her adventuring pack off the airship. “Hey!” She tried hard to ignore it, but that voice just got louder. “Hey, Post Lady!”

She whirled around, ready to tear that Boromar kid in two. “What!?”

“What am I meant to do? Who’s after me? Who’s going to protect me?” The kid, named Steohan, looked up at Sasolin, genuinely scared. She had to remind herself that he was only seventeen, and that the Last War probably seemed like a distant memory to him. She had lived through and survived much more, and lost much more too.

“Not my problem, kid.” She informed. “Wherever you go now, whatever muscle you hire, it just officially stopped being my business.”

“The Khyber am I meant to do?” Steohan held up the letter, a few lines in total, with an elaborate scrawl at the bottom. “I’ve just been told to not come back to Sharn! That my life is in danger! I’m stranded!”

Sasolin retorted, “You probably didn’t need the letter to tell you your life was in danger. Those mercenaries were probably enough of a warning sign.”

Steohan looked at her incredulously. “Is this some sort of sick joke to you?”

Sasolin sighed. “Look, just go up to Clifftop. Whatever you’re involved in, I’m sure your family has enough coin to hire the best adventurers and corrupt guards.”

Steohan shook his head. “My parents have left town too. There’s no one in the city I can turn to.” He thought for a second, then his face lit up in a way that made Sasolin very, very afraid. “Wait! I’ll just hire you guys!”

Sasolin glanced over at the rest of her crew. E.C. was trying his hardest to get Tu, the changeling, to stop imitating everything that he was saying. The imitation also included a spot-on shapeshift into the gnome. Rust was laughing their metal ass off. Sasolin loved that sound. Rust had only learned how to cackle, a new type of laugh for them, a few months ago, and it was the forged’s favourite activity. Looking back at the halfling, she hunkered down to his height and put a hand on his shoulder. “Look, you can’t hire us. For one, we’re part of House Sivis. We’re not available for hire. And even if we were, we have another job to get to. We’re leaving town in an hour.”

Steohan nodded along. “And I’ll come with you! Perfect!”

This kid was not getting the point. Sasolin began, but E.C. cut her off. He had overheard and wandered over. “Do you have galifars, kid?”

Steohan nodded.

E.C. nodded to Sasolin. “If he’s got the gold, then we’ll absolutely take him where we’re going.”

Sasolin hated when E.C. pulled rank like this, but what made it all the worse is that he was probably right. The Sivis bookkeepers had adamantly refused to replace their old, broken-down equipment. This was a chance to update their gear without dealing with that bureaucracy. She stood up, gave E.C. a look like she was going to kill him, and told the halfling, “Buy your own ticket, and quickly. We’re in carriage 6, compartment 13.”