They finished their coffee and ventured out into the street. It was high noon and the day was mild. The outer walls of the city gave good protection from the wind. The streets were littered with paper confetti and bits and pieces of pop balls. Already people were cleaning up, and it appeared that not only hired cleaners but also many citizens lent a hand. As Abram had expected, the young man from the previous night was waiting by the door with an expectant smile. Abram threw him a coin and told him their destination.
They again traveled towards the center of the city and soon stopped before a large, three-story building. It was made of exquisitely crafted stone that had a shiny gloss. It boasted four large pillars, each of which was decorated with Fendale’s emblem. A large set of marble steps led up to the main door. Upon the very top of the building, stone letters as tall as a man declared “Bank of Fendale.” Whill noticed that archers were positioned every ten feet along the top of the building. There were also four armed guards at the base of the stair.
“This is where your gold is being kept. I assumed that you would want to make a withdrawal.”
“You assumed correctly. You’ve paid my way long enough. It’s high time I treated you for once.”
Abram laughed as they climbed the marble steps to the front door. An armed guard stood at each side.
“What is your business, good sir?” the guard on the right asked Abram.
“We are here to make a withdrawal,” Whill said.
“What are your names, please?”
“I am Whill, and this is Abram.”
The guard gave Whill a queer look. “You’re the one who beat Rhunis?”
“This would be he, good sir,” said Abram. “And if you don’t mind, we have pressing business that must be attended to. Unless you want an autograph from the young lad, that is.”
The guard looked embarrassed. He put on a serious face again. Leave your weapons at the check-in or you won’t be permitted inside.”
With that he turned and together he and the other guard opened the great doors for them. Whill and Abram entered a small room with bare walls. Another great door lay directly in front of them. To the right there was a guard behind a three-foot-square opening to another room, the weapons storage room. He told them to sign in on a scroll and gave them a quill.
“All weapons must be surrendered here,” he declared in a flat voice.
They complied and handed over their swords and knives. Satisfied, the guard went to a small slit in the wall and said, “Ocean blue.”
The door opened and they went into the main lobby of the bank. It was a large room that led to many doors. At the other end of the room was a large oak desk. A short little man with large glasses hurried towards them. With an exaggerated hello and handshake he led Whill and Abram to the vault where the gold was kept. Once inside, Whill saw the twenty sacks of gold upon a large wooden table covered with a red velvet cloth. He opened one of the bags and let the coins fall out onto the table with a heavy clang. Abram took a coin and tested it with his teeth, then eyed it in the torchlight. The light reflected on the surface was deep orange. The emblem of Eldalon was stamped on both sides.
“I’ll be taking a half a bag of gold today,” Whill told the little banker.
“Of course, sir, and it will be our pleasure to hold the rest for as long as you want, at one percent interest, of course.”
Abram scowled at the little man. “In that case we won’t be keeping it here long.” He grumbled and left the vault, mumbling something about damned vultures.
After retrieving their weapons and leaving the building, they headed to the shipbuilder’s place. It was a nicely built and decorated home near the city’s ocean side. This time Whill tipped the wagon boy himself, throwing him a gold coin from his bag. The kid looked at the gold in his hand, astonished. Abram laughed. “You do know how much that’s worth?”
“A wise man once told me there is no point in having wealth if you cannot use it to spread joy.”
Abram smiled. “You’re a quick learner.”
They left the astonished boy standing in the street and went to the front door of the house. After two knocks the door was opened by an old man in a brown vest with a white undershirt. His pants were a fine brown fabric, and on his feet he wore thick brown slippers.
“May I help you?”
“Freston, you old dog! Are you so senile you don’t remember old friends?”
The old man’s frown turned into a wide smile. “Abram, I hadn’t expected you. Folks say you were killed in one of your crazy journeys.”
Abram laughed. “There are more stories of my death than there is sand on the beach.”
Freston chuckled. “Come in, come in. I was just about to have a little tea. Now I have someone to share it with.”
Whill and Abram entered the house, which was just as nice inside as out. Paintings of ships adorned every wall, and numerous shelves were dedicated solely to small ships in bottles. Whill looked at these closely, wondering how they had been put inside. Freston led them to his study and offered them each a seat at his scroll-covered table. “Sorry for the mess, but a builder’s work is never done. I’ll return in a moment with the tea.”
Whill noticed that the scrolls were ship drafts and blueprints. He cocked his head at one design that caught his attention. Freston returned with a tray and three tea cups.
“Feel free, young lad. Those are just new designs I’ve been working on.”
Abram and Freston talked while Whill pored over the designs. Freston’s sons now built most of the ships, he said, as he was too old for much of the work. But he was very excited about the proposition to build a ship of Whill’s own design.
“Usually I build merchant ships or small sailboats, and even a few for the royal navy over the years,” he said. “Helping you bring your design to life would be a rare pleasure.”
They talked for a while about Whill’s vision for his ship, and Freston wrote one detail or another down on a piece of paper. Abram added his recommendations to the design. After a few hours of drawing, planning, and calculating, they had a rough draft of what the ship would look like.
Whill held the sketch up to the light. “She’ll be a beauty.”
“That she will, and if done right, also one of the fastest that ever sailed these blue waters,” Freston agreed.
They made plans to meet the following day and said farewell. Upon leaving the house, Whill and Abram stopped in their tracks. Outside Freston’s house there were fifteen kids with pull carts, all offering them a ride.
Abram laughed aloud at the sight. “It looks like the word is out.”
Whill said politely that they would be walking, to the lads’ disappointment. “We could use a good walk anyway,” he told Abram, who simply chuckled.
The kids followed them for a while but soon gave up on the prospect. Whill and Abram walked in silence for a while as the sun set beyond the city walls. The streets were not crowded; only the occasional horseman or guard rode along. Women in long gowns and men in an assortment of autumn colors strolled from shop to shop. Couples walked hand in hand, laughing and talking in excited voices. Some children still ran about, letting off small fireworks from the previous night.
After about a half hour Whill and Abram reached Ocean Mist and enjoyed a fine dinner of seafood and wine. They talked over their plans for the ship and made plans for the days ahead. They had estimated that it would take a month to build the ship, and by that time Abram would be almost fully healed.
The next day Whill brought his horse out beyond the city to give it some exercise. He rode for hours up and down the coast, the fresh saltwater spraying his face as his horse raced along the beach for miles and miles. It was nice to be out of the city. As much as he liked it, he liked the freedom of the open land much more. He had always loved his life of travel, going from town to town, never making any one place his home. He figured he would settle down one day, but not any time soon. He looked forward to setting sail in his own ship, with nothing between him and the setting sun but the gentle blue ocean. There was nothing better than a night on a ship on calm waters. Sometimes the stars seemed so bright and close, he felt as though he could reach up and touch them. When the sky was clear and the water was still, there were times when he could not tell where the earth ended and the ocean began. He was truly at peace on the sea, where the mysteries of the water were more complex than his own. It was a place where he could let go of all his worries and be lulled into quiet tranquility.