He was in his early fifties, now. Gray hairs were starting to creep into his beard, bolstering the air of dignity about him without really adding age. If anything, it was his uniform that dated him; despite being a merchant captain now, he still wore his old jacket and hat. Dimistos had teased him mercilessly for it when they were younger - hardly anyone ever wore the hat outside of formal events, which were rare - but Thulias liked the look. Frankly, he enjoyed the teasing too, though he’d never admit it. He and Dimi had a great friendship spanning decades, legionnaires together and then mercantile rivals in retirement. They shared many stages of their lives and even met their wives through each other, traveling the world as a group before settling closer to home. Thulias sighed and adjusted his hat, leaning into the hill as he climbed. He was the only one of them left, now.
Of course, that’s how he’d ended up with Kalliena. Kal, he had to remind himself, as she preferred these days. Dimi’s daughter, his ward, and engineer aboard the Caprice. She had a bright spark and fierce intellect which kept Thulias on his toes - and the ship running her best. The captain sometimes thought it would be better for her to move on, to chart her own course in the world, but until then he was glad for the company. Besides, how would he ever replace her? Halfway to the docks now from where he’d stayed the night, Thulias walked through a small square dotted with businesses and cafes. His favorite was just there on the right, and he reminded himself to stop in before he left for some coffee and pancakes. They were closed now, as most locals were taking their mid-afternoon rest, but soon the city would bustle with activity again. He turned his gaze skyward, tracing the meandering path to the port, and steeled himself for the last of the climb.
“Captain Davimar. A word, if you’d be so kind?”
Thulias stopped on hearing his name, pulled from his thoughts, and turned slowly towards the source. The voice had a deep and breathy quality, with an unsettling metallic tinge that made sense once he beheld the speaker. Seated at a formerly empty street-side table in the cafe was a mass of robes and talismans, contemporary in design and yet clearly ancient in origin. The bundle of clothes was topped with a burnished bronze mask which made no attempt to imitate human features, an eyeless gaze fixed upon him. It nodded a broad-brimmed hat at the chair opposite, producing an armored hand from among the fabric folds to complete the gesture.
Hardly unaccustomed to surprising and somewhat tense situations, Thulias regarded the figure as he slowly approached the chair. “Well met, stranger.” he began cautiously, mustering extra decorum just in case. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours. Who do I have the pleasure of addressing?”
“My name is Cuvarri. Or, so you can call me while we have business together. Soon, you’ll be buying a new ship.”
It didn’t show on his face, but Thulias was actually shocked. That was a statement, almost an accusation, not a question. True, he had been considering trading up, as his small vessel was best suited for supply runs and occasional private shipments. Contracts were slowly shifting to corporate craft, with their larger holds and lower prices, but he’d be damned if he sold out to Greiman or the like. Even so, it was barely an idea, one he hadn’t even shared with Kal, let alone begun investigating on the market. And yet, the stranger knew. Thulias had dealt with his fair share of philosophers, but this was different somehow. He chose to sit.
“It’s something we’ve thought about,” he conceded. “Although, our current vessel suits us just fine. What concern is this of yours?”
Cuvarri gave a tinny sigh, settling back into their chair as though exhausted by the question. “You are an independent contractor, losing money month after month to larger players. The world is changing, and you aren’t. Make the investment, or you and Kalliena will be out of jobs by wintertime.”
Kal’s name being used in what may well have been a threat caused Thulias to bristle. But Cuvarri wasn’t wrong, whatever they meant by it. The captain decided to play things out a bit, and leaned into the conversation.
“Perhaps. But a larger vessel requires larger contracts to keep it moving. I don’t have anything like that on my manifest.”
“You will. Three weeks from now, a ship in this harbor will come up for sale, ideal for my needs. Buy it, and we’ll speak again. Let your engineer know to make ready for major modifications; we’ll need them where we’re going. I’ll arrive at your slip with the necessary hardware.”
Thulias thought for a moment, still not sure how seriously to take the bizarre situation. This Cuvarri certainly knew a concerning amount about his and Kal’s affairs, and seemed to be promising them an out… of a kind. It wasn’t an offer so much as instructions. But if the mage was right about the markets, he’d at least have a few weeks to think about it. He could work his contacts to secure greater commitments, to really lay the groundwork for the expansion of his outfit just in case this weird business fell through. As the captain studied Cuvarri’s unmoving visage, he began to feel oddly better about the whole thing.
“As a rule, we don’t make changes to our ship without an exclusivity agreement for a reasonable term, depending on how extensive the modifications are. That would go double for any new craft we bought. What sort of hardware are we talking about?”
“You’ll have your agreement, term perpetual.” Cuvarri waved a plated hand, as though to emphasize the triviality of their words. “You can schedule the harbor crane later, we’ll be needing it. Oh, and Davimar? There’s no need to pursue other business. When we leave this table, our deal will be secure. The One abides.”
With that, Cuvarri rose to leave, but never took a step; as they stood, the mage simply faded away. Like a mirage resolving on an arid sunset horizon, their presence was replaced by the cool air of the city. Thulias sat for a moment, wondering whether it was luck or something more nefarious that had just visited him. Either way, he decided, there was no time like the present.
The crew of the Caprice was going to need to have a conversation.
