Gold Wins Wars

by Verlax

Chapter IV - The Arrival

Tall brick structures with characteristic red tiles, lines and lines of wooden houses, and the shapes of port-side warehouses rose from the horizon. The harbor awaited, the entrance to the port crowded with several cogs, galleys, barges, and other kinds of ships. The city walls were mostly empty, with but a few guards patrolling them.

Winterspell put away his spyglass.

“Lubuck,” he murmured.

This was it. They had finally reached their destination after several hard days of sailing. It was not the first time he had made this trip, but it nonetheless exhausted him, as always. The sea was more than willing to show ponies that it did not belong to them and would not be tamed. It was a place of primal nature, where only the hardest and most experienced could dare to tread.

Even though he had traversed this path dozens of times already, Winterspell couldn’t help but feel that this time something was different. He could feel it in his bones; he should at the very least have felt relief at arriving safely. Instead, all he felt was gloom. He should have been happy that his crew would finally have the opportunity to rest from this Victa madness and fury of the sea, but there was something tugging at his heart, keeping him from comfort.

“Quick Signal! To me!” he shouted into the air.

The boatswain dashed in his direction. “Aye, Capt’n?. What’s the problem?”

“Six ponies didn’t make it, right?” Winterspell asked, adjusting their course.

The boatswain wasn’t a brilliant mathematician, as proven by the fact he had to count them out loud.

“Ehm… let’s see... three… five… yea, that was six.” Quick Signal finally confirmed.

Winterspell sighed. “Do you know if they they had any family?”

“Let’s see. Red Shovel… nope, Swift Grape… nope, nope, nope… oh, Long Rope had parents,” the boatswain said.

Winterspell sighed one more time and cursed silently. “Great, just what I needed…”

“But if my memory serves me right, he was disinherited,” Quick Signal swiftly added.

“Disinherited? Oooh… okay, I get it.”

Typical. Most sailors didn’t have any family. The ships were their only home, their crews were their only family. Others became sailors after being run out of their homes, others were trying to avoid punishment for one crime or another, and still others were dishonoured nobles that, for reasons unknown, preferred to hide their social status. Sometimes, like in Long Rope’s case, after being disinherited they had nothing to come back to and had no other choice but to enlist.

So typical… like Winterspell himself, all those years ago.

“Men, half sail! I want to bring her in nice and slow, this time without ramming into anypony!” Winterspell ordered, finally snapping out of his thoughts.

The harbor of Lubuck was already full of various ships and it was hard to maneuver in such conditions. Even sailing as slow as they were, the danger of some hot-headed captain accidentally ramming into his ship was always present. Winterspell grabbed the steering wheel firmly and slowly turned toward the pier.

“Prepare the ropes!”

Steady… steady… the ship was sailing so slowly now that it barely made one meter in three seconds. Winterspell clenched his teeth and turned the steering wheel one more time.

“Moor the ship! Anchor down!” he ordered.

With some struggle, a few large ponies threw the anchor into the sea.. Two swift sailors jumped from the side of the ship onto the pier, and moored the ship to it tightly with ropes. The ‘Little Conqueror’ was finally sitting still.

Winterspell sighed with relief. The crew was already cheering, the blessed land now just within reach of their hooves.

“Okay stallions, one more thing before you’re free to go! Gather ‘round!” Winterspell shouted and approached the edge of the quarterdeck to look at his crew.

Soon, the marauding groups of sailors merged into one. Six bloodied bags lay before them in a conspicuous place on the deck.

“I’m almost proud of you men,” Winterspell began, looking at his men sternly. “Almost, because I caught several of you gambling. However, it could… ahem… ‘slip my mind’ when it comes to your payment, if you help the porters deliver the cargo to Grainwood’s warehouses. Does that sound fair?”

The sailors collectively nodded in approval.

“Great. Now, last thing: the burial of our fallen comrades. You know the procedure. If they were your friends or if you know their friends or families, you should try to gather funds for a proper burial. If that’s not the case…” Winterspell’s voice trailed off for a second, and then continued with a bit more steel to it, “... I will not protest if you simply throw their bodies into the sea. Just don’t do it publicly,” he finished in barely a whisper.

It always left a sour taste in his mouth to say something like that, but what should he expect? That somehow, these ponies would find enough money to fund a good burial? They were sailors after all, the salary was a joke, the danger was always around the bend and the reputation of their occupation was somewhere between ‘thief’ and ‘smuggler’.

“Alright. Quick Signal, you’re responsible for paying the stallions their money and gathering the crew for the next cruise. I think it’s only a matter of days before the ‘Little Conqueror’ will sail again. Aside from that, you’re dismissed,” Winterspell finished.

“Thank you Capt’n!” the crew cheered loudly and started piling off of the ship.

Winterspell sighed and joined them. Even without his sailors, the harbor was packed with ponies. It was hard to take more than a step without bumping into somepony, especially when most of them were porters transporting crates and chests with various goods. The stench was awful, a mix of seaweed, fish, perspiration, and a smell that Winterspell was positive had to be regurgitated grog. Yes, that was it; he could feel the odor of alcohol everywhere.

The captain also spotted several of his sailors kissing the dirt, always three times. Superstitions were common among this line of work. It was those same superstitions that prevented him from ever taking a mare onboard.. Even if he wouldn’t be eaten by some kind of ‘legendary sea monster’, the crew would lose their focus. Mares on ships brought bad luck… or rather, distracted stallions from doing their jobs.

Nearing the exit of the harbor, Winterspell noticed an official-looking pony flanked by two shady-looking guards. The clerk was sitting behind a small desk and was writing something in a book. He looked like the typical unicorn noble; he even had a proper monocle. Winterspell sighed, knowing what to expect, and approached the stallion.

“Name?” the official asked without even lifting his face from the book.

Winterspell grunted and said nothing. The clerk, clearly annoyed, raised his eyes to meet him.

“Oh, my dear friend Winterspell!” the unicorn flashed an overly pleasant smile. “How’s business?”

“I don’t have the time, nor am I in the mood for a talk, Strict Tax. I’m just here to pay for our stay,” Winterspell said.

“Oh, right, of course… ‘Little Conqueror’?”

“Yes.”

The clerk wrote it down in his book.

“Stupid name if you would ask me. I wouldn’t conquer anything with a cog,” the official commented idly.

The same damn thing in every single port. Even a pony with nerves of steel such as Winterspell had his limits, and that was as far as his patience stretched.

“Just tell me how much do I owe this time.” he ordered, anger seeping into his voice.

“Take it easy… I’m counting it…” Strict Tax said as he closed his eyes, like it was a deep and complicated process to do. “Five bits per day.”

Winterspell raised an eyebrow at that.

“Don’t bullshit me Strict Tax. Even galleasses don’t pay that much. Two bits per day.”

“Oh come on, Winter. Four bits.”

“Two,” the captain rebutted.

“Four.”

“Two.”

“Three,” the clerk resigned.

“Two,” Winterspell was adamant.

“Okay, two it is then, if you can resolve the problem with those merchants over there,” Strict Tax replied with a cunning smile, pointing with his hoof towards two arguing merchants. From this distance Winterspell couldn’t tell what they were arguing about but he reasoned that it wouldn’t be anything he couldn’t handle.

“Okay, I’ll do it.” The captain threw two coins on the counter and turned towards the arguing merchants, completely ignoring the greedy eyes of the unicorn.

The moment Winterspell began to close the distance with the merchants, however, he realized that their problem was a bit more complex than he had initially assumed.

“Rozumiesz mnie czy mam ci to przeliterować!? To jest Z PRUS!” one of the merchants shouted in some weird, foreign language. He was wearing a long coat despite warm weather, and he wore a long thick mustache with an equally long beard. It was hard to see his facial features behind all that hair.

“For fuck’s sake, I only want to know what kind of wood this is!” the second merchant, wearing the Lubuck coat of arms, spoke in Equuish. “Hey you, over there!” he turned to Winterspell, once the captain came close enough. “Do you know his language?”

“No,” he admitted bluntly. “But maybe I’ll be able to somehow communicate with him. What city is he from?”

“He’s one of those strange ponies from Danzig,” the merchant grunted.

“To miasto się nazywa Gdańsk, a nie jakieś ‘Danzig’,” the foreigner spoke in his swishing tongue-breaker of a language.

“Oh, shut up,” the first one groaned.

“Hey, um, sir?” Winterspell spoke to the foreign pony. When he caught his attention he pointed at his logs of wood. “What is this?” he asked really slowly, accenting every single letter.

The merchant shrugged “Z Prus”.

Winterspell turned towards the Lubuck merchant. “It’s spruce. He simply has a strange accent, that’s all.”

“Thank you kindly,” the merchange replied. “Now, back to negotiations...”

Sensing that his little lie was going to fall apart the moment the two merchants started to negotiate again, the captain wisely left the harbor. Beyond the waterfront, the crowd vanished immediately.The streets of Lubuck outside of the harbor and market regions were mostly empty. It was like this in most port cities; the life concentrated at the markets, leaving the rest to look like a ghost town. As he was wandering the many streets of Lubuck, Winterspell also noticed that nothing had really changed during the weeks he was on his voyage. The white pegasus even noticed the colt who had tried to rob him before his last departure. This time, the foal was playing some games with other street urchins, seemingly without a care in the world; a stark contrast to the child that tried to steal his money for a loaf of bread. Shaking his head, Winterspell continued on his way through the familiar streets of the city.

Winterspell wasn’t born in Lubuck, but he was familiar with the place, as he frequently delivered lumber to the docks. Thanks to this familiarity it didn’t take him long to find his way to the merchant district. Despite its association with commerce, that district was as empty as the rest. Seeing as it was a place where large sums of money were changing hooves, it was only natural that any proceedings were done out of the reach of curious ears. At least it didn’t reek of sewage like the rest of the streets.

When he had gone ashore, the sun was shining down on the city with an unbearable intensity. Now, however, gray clouds were approaching from the west, and the temperature was quickly dropping.

It will be raining soon, he thought.

Thankfully, before even a single drop hit him, Winterspell had already found the ‘Birch Atelier’. Without knocking, he entered the shop.

---

“Uncle Winter!” The moment he passed the threshold, Winterspell heard a squeaky voice call him by his nickname, followed by the sound of rapidly approaching hoofsteps..

“Hey, Blank… ow!” Winterspell tried to brace himself for her greeting, but the speed and strength with which the little filly hugged him was enough to knock the air out of his lungs. “Warn me next time you do that, okay?”

“Hehe… sorry.” Blank Slate laughed childishly, slipping off of him.

“And besides, I’m not your uncle,” Winterspell continued matter-of-factly.

“Mmhmm”

The captain sighed, knowing full well that he might as well have been talking to a brick wall. Blank Slate wasn’t about to listen to him; she never did. At the very least, however, nopony could say he hadn’t tried.

“Where’s Grainwood?” he asked the filly, once she calmed down a bit.

“In the office. She signed a new contract with some kind of super-duper rich pony and now she’s extra happy,” Blank Slate explained. “Buuut… she got a letter from the tax collectors just after that, and now she has a ton of paperwork.”

“Okay, so I guess I’ll just go upstairs then,” Winterspell said, leaving his captain’s hat on a nearby hatstand.

The shop hadn’t changed much since his last visit. It was a typical store with wooden walls, with the same layout of rooms, stairs, and storerooms as any other shop in the city. Not surprising, seeing as they all were designed by the same architect. It gave him a strange feeling of deja vu everytime he went inside one, but beside that, he felt really comfortable inside.

Grainwood was waiting in her office, busy with paperwork, just as Blank Slate had said. She had probably been at it for several hours now, and it was probably the cause of the huge bags under her eyes and why she had to wear glasses. Having to constantly work with small numbers, her eyes weren’t as good as they used to be, and often grew tired. The moment Winterspell entered the room, however, Grainwood removed her glasses and placed them on her desk, looking at him with a soft smile on her lips.

“Morning, Winterspell. How was the voyage?” she greeted. Winterspell had to admit, she had a really nice, soft voice.

“The cargo is intact, unless some fool porter accidentally damaged it,” Winterspell replied, sitting down in a chair. “The wood will soon be in your warehouses. However, the voyage itself was harder than usual. We had a Victa raid during our cruise. Thankfully we got away, although six of my sailors died during the battle.”

“Oh my.” Grainwood instantly grew worried. “Was it close? I mean…”

“Yeah, it was a close one. If not for the support of another galleass we wouldn’t have reached Lubuck,” Winterspell added.

Grainwood grew silent for a moment, mulling over his words in her head. Winterspell didn’t disturb her and simply waited.

“Well…” She started slowly. “I managed to sign a contract for a lot of money. I was about to spend it to buy more ships and hire crews for them, more lumber mills and wagons and the like, but the problem of safety has a far bigger priority. Say, what could make your voyages easier?”

It was hard question, Winterspell had to admit. On one hoof he could replace the old ‘Little Conqueror’ with a larger, more defendable ship, but that would cost a small fortune, and he doubted Grainwood was about to spend whatever money she had to buy just one ship.. Raising the salary of his sailors wouldn’t make the situation any better either. It would only give a slight morale boost, nothing more.

However, there was one thing.

“Well, maybe we could hire a proper squad of mercenaries, in addition to the normal crew. Then the Victa woudn’t be such a problem,” Winterspell told her.

Grainwood winced a bit. “It’s a costly idea.”

“Still better than buying a better ship,” he reasoned.

“Okay, I can go with it, but they have to be worth their price. If I’m going to be paying them, I want to have the final say in that matter.”

“Fine by me,” Winterspell agreed, and stood up from his chair. He started heading towards the door.

“Wait a second, Winter. Didn’t you forget something?” Grainwood asked.

The stallion slowly turned to face her. Grainwood was holding a bag full of bits in her hoof.

“Your salary,” she said, tossing it to him.

Winterspell grabbed it from the air with a bored expression and with hardly any emotion he attached it to his belt. “Thank you.”

Grainwood looked like she wasn’t finished yet, so he waited and sit down again. The merchant was slowly eying him, as if sizing him up.

“You’ve been working for me for four years now, am I right?” she asked, just to be sure.

“Yes.”

Grainwood was silent again.

“Money doesn’t really matter to you, does it? I was wondering why for four years you haven’t asked me for a single raise.” She watched him carefully. “You’re barely earning any cash.”

Winterspell didn’t know how to answer her question, so he decided not to say anything.

“You see, Winterspell, when I’m a bit older, and far richer, I want to go on a permanent vacation. I’ll buy a small palace on a lovely hill with a forest. Maybe I’ll write a book, or maybe I’ll just live there for the rest of my life. Maybe it sounds silly, but at least it’s something I can try to achieve. Tell me, Winterspell, what do you aim to achieve?”

The stallion was simply sitting in his chair, saying nothing. Grainwood couldn’t read anything from his blank expression.

The merchant sighed. “You’re not very talkative, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” he replied evenly.

“Is there a reason for it?”

“Yes.” The stallion nodded.

“Does it have something to do with your home?”

This time Winterspell winced.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” the pegasus said coldly and stood up from his chair. “I’m going to search for a good team of mercenaries to hire. Goodbye.”

“Good―”

Winterspell left the room before she could finish her sentence, slamming the door shut. She had no idea what to think of it all. Grainwood sighed and tried to clear her mind, focusing on her papers again.

“Buckin’ Bureaucracy” she thought bitterly. These papers are almost as enigmatic and complicated as that pegasus.

Comments

[Brown Books]

Wow I love Winterspell just for that last scene. The beginning of the chapter was set up nicely. *smells the crispy port air...then chokes at the gruesome aroma. Yep.

The merchants argument was hilarious and the captain played it smoothly, hopefully his lie isn't found out.

I knew that was Grainwood's ship, I'm looking forward to this story even more. She's probably going to build an armada now.

Chapters are...just too short...Boohoo...I'm kidding great story so far. Job well done lad and don't worry about postin em quick, patience is success after all.

Oh yeah, what I do to live in those times...

[atom2004]

Finally managed to find some time to write here.
The first thing that came to my mind after reading this one and Judgement of Carrion: you like the sea, don't you?
First of all, the story was enjoyable. You really know how to write dialogs and portait emotions. Each of the characters was well-written and even when he/she appeared for a just a few pages I could decide whether I like that pony or not - for example, Blank Slate irritated me from the very beginning (like most children do - I'm awful, I know)
The story itself was quite different from what one can see in most fics (politics and economy over action and adventure). But it's far more interesting that a typical politician's speech. Though I do have to say that in my opinion the "on the sea" scenes top all the rest. Or maybe it's just Winterspell
The biggest flaw for me was the ending, but not in terms of the story, but the way it was written. I do not like too much chronics, diary entries or letters, even if they serve to give the reader some important information or show the character's view of something. And the whole ending was a bit overflown with them. But that goes under "personal preferences", so it's not really a flaw in the typical meaning.

Good luck in your future projects!