[Zozeko]

Three months. More money than Zozeko would care to admit. An enforced stay in Marport, which not only resulted in a lack of income but meant he had to actually be a father and husband for once, rather than rolling his duties onto his wife's shoulders. The Artega was not the only ship to suffer badly in the strange tsunami that swept the coast and the Espur Straits, of course, and they were fortunate to be so close to Marport at the time. News had come in much later of the tidal wave crashing along the Ao Coast and decimating both the Espurian and Marportian navies, so there was currently great demand for wood and repair supplies. Fears ran high that the pirates from Brannigan's would take advantage of the cities' sudden lack of defences, but it seemed they must have been just as badly affected as none appeared for the first two months. By the time they did, the least damaged of the fleet ships were back on their feet so the raids weren't too rough.

Unfortunately, the number of ships out of commission, along with the damage inland, meant that shipwrights had to prioritise. First, the naval vessels, then essentially whoever could pay the suddenly exorbitant fees. Zozeko's contacts and negotiations only got them so far, and they had used up most of their recent profits just to tide themselves over. The Artega was one of the last ships to be re-fitted, and even then they could only afford to repair the worst of the damage. Even then, Zozeko was eager to return to duty when Sebastian finally decided it was time to limp across the channel.

"Look, Mister Nihim—"

"Zozeko. Nihim is my father." He had already corrected Samson a dozen times, but the Espurian shipwright never really listened.

"Whatever. I already told you, I'm sorry but there's nothing I can do for you. I'm up to my neck in—"

"Yes, yes, I know. You're forgetting, of course, that you owe us for the shipment of igneous oil we procured for you last year."

"Archon oil."

"Whatever."

"And I already paid for that when you guys got back from that Xanth-forsaken island without a mizzen-mast. No, Mister Nihim." Samson held up a hand to forestall Zozeko's arguments. The Dracovarian's eyes glittered with impatience. Zozeko shifted his wings to mirror his mood, jostling the gold stars and moons dangling from his wing-claws. "You'll just have to wait, like all the other ships in the harbour."

Samson turned away, dismissing him silently in the same manner as a Shrine Lord. Zozeko's top lip curled back in a silent snarl, but he turned away without another word. This would be the last time he would approach Samson Inigo with work, most certainly. He only hoped Sebastian had better luck. The Artega would manage a few more trips across the Straits if it came to that, and they desperately needed money so it likely would, but it was unlikely she would survive an attack if they ran into trouble.

Keegan Roul joined him. The boatswain's arms were packed with tools and equipment they could ill afford. "Not going so well, I take it?" The Therian always was good at stating the obvious.

Zozeko sneered. His true emotions so infrequently made it to his face after half a millennium of practice, but recent events had withered away his self-control. "I need a drink."

Keegan nodded and dumped the tools he had been drooling over on the nearest flat surface. "Gotcha. Think the Hydra's Head's still standing?"

Ransie ∴ Piper's Boutique ∴ Wallpaper Abyss ∴ Celestial Star ↵

[Zozeko]

They exited the pub an hour or so later a little the worse for wear, not least because, though they continued to serve, they were low on actual alcohol thanks to water damage that also made sitting very uncomfortable. Many of the patrons currently drowning their sorrows were upstanding at the bar rather than risk the slowly rotting stools or the still-wet booth cushions.

"So. Had any ideas while we've been pissing away what little money we have?"

Zozeko sniffed. "I am not the one who ordered a large."

Keegan clapped an unwelcome hand to his shoulder and gave what was probably meant to be a friendly squeeze. Zozeko sneered at the offending limb until the boatswain recognised his distaste and removed it. "I'll give you that. Doesn't answer my question, though."

“No,” Zozeko acknowledged in Zanarayan. He shuffled his wings and shrugged his jacket straighter onto his shoulders; Keegan had ruffled the fabric. The alcohol loosened his tongue. "I am running low on inspiration and contacts. We may have to ride this out."

Keegan brushed his thumb across his top lip as he side-stepped a sailor on the way into the pub they had vacated. "I don't think I gotta tell you, Zeko, my man. We can't really afford to wait."

"Then." Pursed lips pulled the words tight. "We must find passengers or cargo for, how do you say, a short hop."

Ransie ∴ Piper's Boutique ∴ Wallpaper Abyss ∴ Celestial Star ↵