The Classless Sorcerer's Self-Stealing System

"So," Azdah started, which was immediately proceeded by a small series of groans, as he worked his way down into a chair, "I hope you were planning to lead with an explanation as to, eh… whatever it is you're doing all the way out here. I won't entertain any negotiations otherwise… old friend."

The back room to which the captain had led them was more than a little cramped for space, boasting a small, circular table that looked to be slightly unlevel on one side, for it tilted as the captain leaned into it slightly. A single, glazed windowpane was all that affected the otherwise smoky atmosphere of the room, though the only light source therein was a single candle burning as best it could on the table, for dusk had well and truly settled in outside.

"Have you been sailing these waters so long, Azdah, that they've robbed you your sense of courtesy? Hm?" Bartolo huffed, as he took a seat at the table too. Blychert closed the door behind them at the gesture to do so from the captain, before taking his own seat, as his master added a touch more smugly, "Your bluntness notwithstanding, you should know that any explanation as to my dealings would only serve to implicate you in matters best left alone."

Azdah narrowed his expression, as if studying the older sorcerer for some sort of a sign, before replying, "The last time I saw you, you were rubbing elbows in Tielun. That was last winter. Now you're halfway across the world, some boy nipping at your heels, and the both of you looking for passage to Frostwall, when I know very well that a man of your capabilities could get there on his own just fine. Stop me when I'm wrong."

"I'm not that man." Bartolo insisted plainly, "Not now anyway, nor can I be seen as such. The travel ban ensures this. As Jilvarlok is a man of modest means, he thus must travel by modest methods. You understand."

"And what of, eh… this boy?" Azdah wagged a finger towards Blychert in a somewhat exaggerated fashion, as if he weren't sitting directly across from him watching the whole thing, "He's not yours, is he? I thought you Twelvefold Sages denied yourselves pleasures of the flesh. You know, you're supposed to unsheathe your sword when duty calls."

"Spare me..." Bartolo grumbled, "He's my apprentice, not my blood. We'll leave it at that."

"But you don't deny your involvement with the sages. The false sages, as I believe the clerics of your land call them. Do you?"

Blychert furrowed his brow.

For as long as he could remember, Bartolo had traveled quite often. Hell, that was half the reason he'd spent so much time at Irvin's house growing up, his own "parental" figure was always off in the world somewhere. But as far as he understood, Bartolo studied ancient ruins. He'd never heard anything about any "Twelvefold Sages" much less about Tielun for that matter. Bly could point it out on a map, sure, and so he knew that Azdah wasn't lying when he'd said it was halfway across the world, but he didn't know much else beyond that.

It gave Bly a reason to think.

Maybe now that Bartolo was finally back in his life, at least for the foreseeable future, maybe it was time to sit down and finally ask him about all that stuff they'd never gotten around to when they'd initially left Greygarde.

Who was he, really?

Was that person, Bartolo's true self, the one that had crossed paths with Bly's father all those years ago? And if so, why had he kept it a secret for so long?

Over the last year, Blychert had been content to keep a low profile and to just focus on his training; he'd had a lot to learn, after all. Bartolo was gone most of the time, and Alyse wasn't one to discuss other people's business so openly, so it wasn't worth bringing up. And even after all that drama with Bold Arrow in the dungeon, and especially after all those visions, he'd kept his mouth shut and just tried to just enjoy the peaceful times.

But now?

He was walking into dangerous waters, and he wasn't so sure it was in his best interest anymore to be kept in the dark.

"You've mistaken my profession, evidently." Bartolo chuckled, as if amused by the notion presented by the captain, "I am simply seeking safe passage to Frostwall, and I mean to do so by collecting my favor from you. You see, my apprentice has been offered a professional opportunity, one that I would be remiss to let be. That is all you really need to know. More to the point, this is all you need to know if you wish to absolve yourself from any future damages."

"And as for your disguise?" Azdah smirked somewhat, who had since produced a silver coin from somewhere on his person and was now flicking it in between his fingers. However, he sobered just as quickly, and slapped both his hands down on the table, startling Bly slightly. The captain offered a full-bellied chuckle, standing to his feet, as he added, "Very good. I like that—I like that a lot… future damages. Very good!"

"So, we are in agreement?" Bartolo asked gingerly.

"Hm? Eh… yes." Azdah nodded belatedly, clearly still hung up on the earlier statement, before throwing himself back down into the chair. Shaking his head, he said, "You couldn't have picked an easier place to get to though. You sure you want to waste my favor on such eh… a short trip?"

Bartolo grinned, "Indubitably."

"Then it's settled." Azdah affirmed. However, he suddenly turned to face Bly, and said with a highly scrutinizing gaze, "Just one more question. Your boy here… he is like you, no? Masking his true nature, that is?"

"Uh—" Bly gasped, his eyes widening slightly.

Could this guy seriously tell all that just by looking at him?

"Trelen merely seeks to live his own life, free of the burdens that have, whether justly or wrongly, been thrust upon him." Bartolo replied, "Make of that what you will. Though I distinctly remember your slate not being so clean either once upon a time… old friend."

"Too true." Azdah grinned, extending his hand towards Bly, "Then it is a pleasure to meet you, Trelen."

"…Likewise." Bly sighed, more than a little relieved that things had resolved so quickly, before accepting the gesture in kind. However, at that moment, Azdah pulled Bly in a little closer, and looked at him with a more serious expression.

"You best be careful, this house of lies you build." He murmured, but added with a smirk, "You would not want to end up like your doddering old master, eh? Always up to no good."

Bly couldn't help but to nod with a grin, realizing that it was only a joke.

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"Old. Not doddering." Bartolo interjected, though he was already up and on his way out the door, "What's no good to me is you, if we don't get a move on. When can we expect to depart?"

Azdah tilted his head, considering the question for a moment. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers, and at that moment, the silver coin he'd been playing with appeared again in between his thumb and pointer fingers.

"We leave at first light."

And so it was that the Crux of Alabaster left the port of Everden at dawn, its white sails flying on the masts as they departed.

The ship sailed with smooth wind for most of the day and only hit a couple of choppy areas a few times throughout. Despite his lack of sea-legs, Blychert didn't have any problem at all sitting on the top deck and simply watching the sailors work, or even leaning out over the side to watch the coast roll past them by each hour. It was chilly, but a simple 'Protection from Cold' spell kept Bly relatively fine, and so he was content to keep himself occupied. He practiced a bit of magic when he could, much to the amusement of the other sailors, though he did his best not to make too much of a commotion. He wanted to stay in shape for when they arrived in Frostwall, but not at the expense of the captain's wrath.

They sailed through the night. Although the dingy little cot Bly had to use was less than ideal, he somehow was able to find a decent night's rest. In the captain's good nature, he had offered his private quarters to Bartolo for the evening. The poor man was an exceptional sorcerer, but even he was no match for sea sickness, or so it seemed.

It was on the afternoon of their second day that Blychert found himself topside once again, thinking to himself as he stared off the starboard side of the ship once more.

According to Azdah, they would be in Frostwall today.

The mixed sense of excitement and trepidation coalesced in the back of Bly's mind somewhat unpleasantly. It wasn't that he was necessarily nervous about the dungeon, or anything like that. He was eager to get the chance to go delving again. If Bold Arrow could do it, however successfully, so could he.

It was just, everything about being classless really was weighing on him lately. He had a knack for getting himself involved in situations that he didn't otherwise have to, he didn't deny that, but would he be able to if it meant keeping his identity secret in a huge place like Frostwall? He couldn't afford to be as reckless as he had been with Bold Arrow, since not everyone would react like Xander did. But what if more and more people found out? And furthermore, it wasn't like he wanted to lie to anyone. He would have loved to tell Vinetta, and Bredic, and Lisel… if he could.

Bly smiled.

He really was looking forward to seeing all of them again.

"How do you like her?" Azdah's familiar voice cut through Bly's innermost thoughts suddenly.

Bly's head turned in the other direction confusedly, "Huh?"

"The ship." Azdah smirked, approaching from the stern, as he gestured all around him, "Do you find her to your liking? Be honest with me."

"Oh, uh… sure." Bly sighed, not entirely sure how else to respond. Frankly, his mind was still wandering. Though he suddenly thought about what the captain had said the night before, and as he scratched the back of his head, he added, "I've… never actually been on a ship before. So, I guess I wouldn't really know if I liked it or not."

"Truly…?" Azdah asked, seemingly in awe of the response. He twirled the ends of his mustachio in two of his fingers for a long, diligent moment, before leaning along the hull, saying as he stared off into the water, "I boarded my first schooner when I was still in swaddling clothes; put to work on the rigging as soon as I was strong enough to move a pin. Hmph. My father was a sailor first and foremost, and only a merchant by necessity. We were always sailing…"

Azdah frowned somewhat, likely that he had remembered something from his past, or so Bly thought.

"Is that… why you became a ship captain?" Blychert asked, perhaps for no other reason than to keep the spirit of the captain's discussion alive.

"Well, it wasn't for the coin." Azdah chuckled. He then paused, his expression slightly pensive for a moment, before saying, "I loved to sail as a boy. I, eh… hated it, though, when I was right around your age I think. But… I grew to love it again. In time. Sometimes, I think, you don't realize the worth of something, until after it's no longer with you."

Bly nodded.

A long spell of silence hung in the air thereafter, broken up only by the sounds of the hull slapping up against the waves, or the diligent work of the sailors as they kept the ship moving along.

He wasn't sure why, maybe it was the captain's choice of words, but Bly suddenly thought of his own childhood, and all the tedious things that he'd grown jaded with by the end of his time at home. He was certain he would've taken it all back and just be content to count his blessings, had he known what was to become of him later down the road.

"Do you miss your home?" Bly thought to ask, "I mean, you said you were always traveling, but… you must have one?"

"Bah—yes, though I don't visit nearly as often as I should." Azdah waved his arm in protest, "I have lots of family in Giyon. Do you know where that is?"

Blychert nodded, recalling just how far away it was. If Tielun was half a world away, Giyon was undoubtedly the whole thing.

"I am glad to hear it. It is the most beautiful country I have ever laid eyes upon." Azdah smiled, his tone a soft and reminiscent kind, though he groaned a moment later, "Not much sailing to be had in the desert though. And not that braver men haven't tried…"

Blychert wasn't exactly sure he understood what that was supposed to mean, but before he could even reply, the captain spoke again.

"Ah, look… there she is. Your Frostwall."

And there it was indeed, and Bly's eyes widened at the revelation.

The first thing he noticed was the stark, sheer hill that rose up into the air on the shoreline, a lone but indominable castle sitting atop and looking out across the bay. Down and all around it, the rest of the city sprawled out, and on its left side the mouth of a river emptied into the bay, the rest of the body of which must have surely cut through the heart of the city. Beige, shingled roofs lined the docks and piers, of which numbered in the dozens if not more.

Ships numbering beyond count dotted the bay as well, some coming and some leaving, and the Crux of Alabaster passed many of them on its way in to port. As the ship drew nearer, Bly only then took notice of the massive curtain wall, fifty feet tall or more at least, dotted with all sorts of armaments and watchtowers. The outskirts of the city on the southeast side could very well have been the same size as Everden, so much so that it was hard to believe that it was only a small part of the overall city itself.

Bly grinned, watching the bustling port as they drew closer with a renewed sense of wonder and optimism.

There were so many different buildings, so many people, lights, smells, and sounds… it was intoxicating in and of itself, and that sense of adventure that had over the last couple of days hung on Bly like a bad aftertaste, ever put in question by his own self-doubting, seemed to dissipate entirely, at least in that moment.

Before long, Azdah and his crew had the ship pulled in and docked. The gangplanks had been drawn, and soon the sailors were getting to work unloading some of their cargo. Bartolo seemed quite eager to remove himself from the Crux, and was quick to steer himself towards the nearest exit, and Bly followed.

"Welcome to Frostwall, my friends!" Azdah said excitedly, joining Bly and Bartolo on the dock as the two of them disembarked with their effects, "I hope your journey was satisfactory."

"Passable..." Bartolo grumbled as if he could be sick, but bowed his nevertheless, "I thank you kindly, captain. Consider your favor returned."

"Bah! You could have asked without waving that thing in my face, and I would have done it anyway." The captain shooed, before turning towards Bly, "So then, this is where I must leave you. Look after your master for me, yes? In case I have need of more favors."

Bly smirked, much to Bartolo's audible chagrin, "Count on it."

The captain nodded with his own smirk, and turned back towards his ship. He paused, however, and glanced over his shoulder to say to Bly, "Should you ever need passage again, and should I ever be in port, you come find me. Yes?"

"So that my apprentice can owe you a favor?" Bartolo huffed, "No thank you, Azdah."

"But my friend? My favor to you is not yet fulfilled." Azdah shook his head, turning once more to walk away, "And what's more, it is a bad omen to refuse a Qashi, when he offers his services freely. Do not tempt fate against yourself, Jilvarlok, I would not wish that even upon my worst enemy, though I will make an exception for ungracious friends. Until we next meet."

"Hmph… the stubbornness of a Qashi." Bartolo grumbled, though he seemed content to surrender the point.

"So… should we go?" Bly asked, trying not to sound too desperate, but he was more than a little eager.

"Oh?" Bartolo glanced at him, "Hm, yes. Of course. I believe it is high time that you and I got settled in for the long haul." Tapping his nose twice with a smile, Bartolo said, "And as it happens, I know just the place."