Time to Leave
The wide open water always did weird me out, the Wizard Markus Von Holt admitted to himself as he watched the various ships leaving the port. Strange, he thought. He’d seen the roaring multicoloured winds of magic, seen a vampire battle against a goblin shaman, both of which used unclean magic. But somehow water always made him shiver.
He was awakened from his muse, as sailors moved past him and on to the wooden gangplank of the Iron Rapscallion - a well cared for vessel, an heirloom of the captain, passed down from his father. He recalled listening intently upon the Captain’s tales of adventure. That was until the violence had a started in the Inn last night. He gripped his quarterstaff tighter as images of last nights drunken carnage flooded back to him. It had been a rough night. Never before had he heard such an inventive use of obscenities that he’d heard Jurgen voice then. Nor would he forget the glazed over look in Skelmer’s eye. Even the women weren’t safe from the ensuing violence. Clora could handle herself. The last time he had seen her, a man was clutching his face and she was covered in blood. Still it was the water that made him shiver.
Markus heard Jurgen before he’d seen the soldier approach. The Wizard fumbled in one of his many pockets as he turned. Finding what he was searching for he presented the tattered pieces of paper to Jurgen, who took them unceremoniously
“The maps of Albion and Reikland.” The wizard muttered
The soldier nodded his response. “Are you not coming aboard the ship?” Jurgen asked his voice thick from his hangover.
“I can’t” he said softly “I have to wait for Magister Wolfgang”
Jurgen muttered something unintelligible, touched his head with a pained expression, and then slowly wandered off to the ship.
He quietly watched various crew members bringing aboard barrels and crates. He hadn’t quite made up his mind if missing his chance to go to Albion was a good thing or not. He knew that Jurgen could handle himself well enough. Casimir the boatman knows the water well, so no worries on his account, well apart from his newly acquired magical abilities. He gave a sigh, as he pondered the idea of having the chance to properly teach him to control the coloured winds.
Unconsciously touching his pack containing his Grimoire. Clora and Skelmer both seemed to have luck on their side. But outside the Empire the god of luck Ranald may not favour them as much.
His contemplation was interrupted again as soldier in the black and cream of Reikland bumped in to him. The man scowled at the wizard, took account of his deep red robes, then grinned sheepishly and hurried off. Markus allowed himself a sly grin. Only to have it disappear at the sight of Magister Wolfgang striding towards him. The senior wizard’s white robes seemed blindingly white in the filthy dockyard. Wolfgang looked thin, his hair white but his bearing radiated power. “Morning Von Holtz” he said slowly in a voice that contained no warmth. “The coach awaits us.”
They both walked to the large well crafted coach. A surly looking man at arms opened the door to allow both men to enter the cabin.
They sat in silence as they travelled through the port city of Marienburg
Markus nodded in solemn agreement “Indeed so my lord”
“You could learn a lot from me young one” he said in a droll voice
Markus sighed, this was going to be a long journey.
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