The Devourer

The hull being shaped after a certain kind of bird’s silhouette — I was told and have forgotten its name already thrice — its bow is particularly long and pointy. Three flat grey-white extensions of the deck stand for long feathers overhanging the void at the stern.

    The Devourer, which is the affectionate nickname the captain gave to the airship, is far from going on its first journey. The state of the hull speaks for itself. Covered in multiple parts by some sort of metallic patchwork, their grey shade never perfectly matching that of the bony hull. Here and there, intricate patterns border it at mid-height.

    The reason I know this so precisely, and even bother to actually stare at? Well, perched over the void, hundreds and hundreds of metres away from land, you have to focus on the silliest things to keep your sanity. Thus, as I scrub the starbirds off the hull, I try to discern imperfections in the wing-like pattern.

    A grinding noise shifts though my attention back to my tool, too harshly inserted between the hull and the invasive creature. The translucent, iridescent skin of the star-like critter comes off the hull and, in no time, two thin wings stretch from its body. Allowing it to fly away.

“It’s such a pain to take them off.” I mutter to myself.

    A heavy sigh.

“I forgot how much I hate work.” I keep scrubbing. “Were I the king, I’d censor the use of this word.”

“Fwihh!” Fufu freely flies around, at ease.

“So?” I cast him a side glance. “When do you introduce me to your parents?”

“Fwih?”

“They have to be somewhere in these vast expanses, right?”

    But Fufu peacefully rolls upside down, staring at me as if I just asked the dumbest thing ever.

“What…”

    It takes me two more hours before being allowed to regain the main deck.

    Gold already lines the clouds like a delightful milkshake topping, suggesting that sunset unfolds somewhere behind the fluffy mess. As I consider it for a while, I feel an arm suddenly encircling my neck.

“Enough for today!” The crewman cheerfully declares, a second man trapped around his free hand. “It’s also been your first day here, right?”

“Umm, yes and?”

“Let’s celebrate the beginning of our new life!”

𖢻 𖢻 𖢻

    Loud music echoes beyond the clouds, a few laughs with it. On the deck, a great number of crew members are gathered. Sharing drinks and thoughts, part chant an air shanty.

    Names are exchanged along with a sip of alcohol, voices growing louder the older the night grows.

    Each in turn, they share an anecdote from their lives. A lover’s name, an abandoned dream, a ridiculous memory granting more laughter than the previous did. And I… watch a point in the distance, begging to find an escape. Crowds were never my thing.

“Suddenly, I feel the urge to go scrubbing more starfish.” I think to myself with a grimace.

    Even if… Feeling included is a nice change. I guess. Or is it Gryffin having a bad influence on me?

“And ya, what were ya doin’ before joining The Devourer?” A woman asks, a band of orange fabric tied around her head, keeping her black, wavy hair back. Her name’s Calico, she’s the first mate on this airship. Hard not to hold her selenite gaze, white and piercing as it is.

“Guess.” I make an effort to direct a smirk to that appreciable part of the crowd.

“You don’t know him?” A one-eyed man chimes in, his quite mid-long hair a darker shade of green than his unakite iris, mixed with orange.

“What do ya mean, Skutz? Is Seveg famous in Felbalia?” The captain’s right hand leans her chin against the back of her hand, mid-closing her eyes.

    We are really too many new ones from this town. Too many for my liking. Why do they even need such a large crew?

“Ohh, many know his name there.” He leans forward between us, placing his hands on our shoulders. Although he holds back at the last moment from leaning against mine. Instead, he mimics dusting it for me. “He’s one of Felbalia’s most known, if not the most known-”

“Candymaker.” I finish, holding the man’s unakite gaze.

    Forget what I said about inclusion. It’s a matter of time.

    At least, the intensity of my gaze seems to dissuade him from spilling the beans. For now. Bad reputation has its convenient advantages, that much I can’t deny.

    And, even if it hadn’t worked, Skutz would’ve hardly had the occasion to add anything as the deafening laughter of Calico echoes over the deck.

“A candymaker?” She waves her hand before her face. “Ya kidding. There’s no way. Ya tellin’ me ya had a shop, a reputation, and left it all behind to become part of an airship’s crew? Ya should’ve rather reconverted yourself into a jester.” She takes another mighty gulp from her bottle.

    That’s what I gained for spending too much time with one of my rare acquaintances. Awesome.

“Yeah, I…” trail off, should’ve come up with a better lie, “…needed a break from my wife. She’s harassing me.”

    Knowing nods from several men make me question the way they lived until now. Maybe some really did come for survival reasons, rather than financial ones.

“I can hear you from the abysses of my cabin, Calico.”

    A thud. The music ceases the same instant. The captain just raised his knee to settle his grey-blue boot on top of the crate where many of us placed our glasses. Useless to add that some quiver before falling, although it doesn’t weaken the captain’s smirk in the slightest bit.

“That ain’t my fault,” Calico shrugs off, gesturing at me with the tip of her thumb. “This one mate is tellin’ me funny things.”

    His forearm leant against his knee, one white sleeve neglectfully rolled up. The man observes his first mate with his black-star-diopside eyes. Pitch-black irises which, for pupils, have a six-branched white star. A few toasted-bread strands of otherwise long black hair frame his face. They protrude from under his large grey-blue hat.

“Funny things, huhh?” He glances briefly at me. “I see. Then,” he raises his arms on either side, “you’d better keep on like this. For, tomorrow, we’ll cross a region where skies are filled with more than just clouds. Ready yourselves, burn these gullets of yours with litres of schnapps, let them cool down with your most unhinged laughter. For, when we cross the monsters’ territory, you’ll need to have enough in you to piss.”

    While everyone is focused on the captain, I take my chance to crawl out of their field of view. Yet, I can’t help but glance back at his massive figure with a frown.

“A monsters’ territory? I guess I should’ve read the fine print on the contract first.”

    As the captain begins to tap his boot against the crate in rhythm, the music resumes and everyone begins tapping their hands to the beats of the song they begin to sing.

    Doubting every choice I made in my life leading to this moment, I head to the dormitory.

“Not like I’m losing anything. There’s always more to drink than to eat during such festivities. A shame, truly.”

    At least, since they’re all on the deck, I’ll have peace down there for a few hours before they join me.

𖢻 𖢻 𖢻

“Listen, Razzel, don’t make the same mistakes as I did.”

    I rolled my eyes at my grandfather’s words. When he was getting into his king-lessons mood, there was no way to shift his attention back to another topic.

    Resigned to my fate, I grabbed another handful of colourful candies from the basket placed on his bed. I glanced at it. Still half-filled. …I’ll have to bear it a little longer.

“To be a king means more than just being at the head of the kingdom, more than protecting it from monsters’ attacks. Sometimes, you also need to protect gemans from other gemans.”

    Sigh, sigh.

    I was wagging my legs in the void, comfortably sat on the edge of his bed. Munching on a creamy candy.

“But I have all faith in you.” My grandfather resumes. “You can become a good king.”

   I don’t know what kind of hallucinogenic medication the doctors are giving him, but it’s definitely a strong one. Although I was once glad my grandfather didn’t reject me like my father, I abandoned my illusions little by little after realising that he was seeing in me someone I wasn’t.

“Grandpa, I already told you. All this king stuff isn’t for me. I’m not even the first prince. You have Seraf for that.”

    But, at my words, the former king shook his head.

“Seraffel listens too much to his father.”

    A pause.

“Certain people are gaining too much influence in Juweld. If we do nothing…”

“Who?” I glance at him, rolling my last candy between my fat fingers. “My father? I mean, he’s the ki-”

“No.” My grandfather interrupted me. “The Militia.”

    I raised an eyebrow, throwing the candy into my mouth and swallowing it in one gulp.

“Ahh! I’m off, now.” I say, jumping off his bed. “The cook was supposed to test a new cake recipe today. I’ll come back to see you another day!”

“Razzel, wait!”

    Hurrying to leave, I had already grabbed the knob when my grandfather straightened in bed, reaching out an arm towards me.

“What?”

“Tomorrow, I’ll send a surprise to your quarters. Someone who will distract you whenever you’re bored.”

    I blinked several times at my grandfather’s mention of a gift. Somehow, I wasn’t really enthusiastic at the idea of having more people intruding into my breathing area. An unease which had only grown stronger since I had these dreams of a life which seemed so… beyond our realm.

    Unless…

“A girlfriend?”

    My grandfather shook his head.

“You’ll see. Ask, and he’ll tell you a story. Order, and he’ll perform some tricks for you.” He paused. “He’s a jester.”

𖢻 𖢻 𖢻

    A grunt.

    I wake up to an unknown hand thrown at my face. Opening my eyes against my consent, I grab it and throw it back towards its rightful owner. A man taking up far too much space in his sleep.

    Rolling to my side, I’m surprised when I realise I had a dream about my grandfather. How old was I back then? Seven, perhaps eight.

    I started seeing him less often after that one time. But I guess that, after seeing him the other day, it woke up some memories. Not so surprising I dreamt about him, all considered.

    Just as I am about to drift to sleep again, footsteps echo down the stairs leading to our dorm.

“Wake up, bastards!!” The noisy voice of Calico murders my dreams of lethargy. “The deck calls for some good cleanin’! Wash off all the vomit you painted it with last night!”

    Less than an hour later, curious rumours begin to spread on the deck. Scrubbing the deck half-asleep, the available part of my braincells wondering what had gotten into me to accept such work, I lend but a lazy ear to an airship’s boy next to me.

“Did you hear…” The man whispers with a concerned expression. “Even after searching for them, it seems that Balock and Telm are missing.”

“The hell are you surprised?” I jest. “That’s what happens after drinking that much.”

    But the man doesn’t seem reassured in the slightest.