Startup 83: Professional Dress

Lamashan 3, Early Morning

Six outfits doesn’t sound like a lot. In my old life, where I accumulated clothes over the years, it really wouldn’t be many clothes at all. Here in the Shackles, where clothes weren’t standardized and a good coat was frequently bespoke, it was actually quite a lot.

Sosima slipped out at first light after checking all of the stores overnight and returned with a set of seven bundles wrapped in banana leaves. Most of them contained shirts and pants made out of what I recognized as high quality linen by this point. The largest of them had a waterproofed black coat lined with rich purple.

“I love your red coat, but you must admit it competes with your neck cloth. Since that empowers your magic, I believe you could save the red coat for times you won’t be expecting combat.” Sosima said, watching me unwrap my gifts. “Also, the pants should mend well. I know you tend to go into the sea or into battle wearing whatever is at hand, so I chose cloth with as high a thread count as possible, so even after being mended a few times it shouldn’t look patchy unless closely scrutinized. They should last you a few years even at your current rate of attrition.”

She spoke slightly more quickly than normal, keeping up a running commentary as I opened one bundle after another. They weren’t just decent clothes. She’d gotten me the good stuff.

“They’re lovely, Sima.” I said, “Really. You didn’t have to do this. Money’s tight all around; how much did all of this cost?”

I looked into getting clothes tailored. As a rush order, a coat this nice might have cost ten gold pieces alone.

“I… well, like I said. You go through your clothes so quickly.” She said evasively, “I do so like seeing you dressed nicely.” I feel awful about the mutiny and I want you to know I care about you. (Opposed Sense Motive 14+12+5 (very familiar) = 31)

Oh, Sima. You really didn’t have to but if you’re burning money to feel better then turning it down would be a dick move.

I leaned in and brushed my lips against hers gently. She responded just as gently, almost absently.

“It’s really great, and you’re right. The red coat isn’t really built for combat.” I said, “So, what’s this?”

I picked up the last bundle, much smaller, and tore into it to reveal a slim book with a plain brown leather binding and no visible title on the cover or spine.

“A most excellent idea that ended up being altogether more inconvenient than intended.” Sosima said, her face souring. “Would you believe that the goblins don’t have any bookshops? I had to scour Halfling and Gnomish book stores, most of which weren’t open at night.”

“Yeah, goblins are illiterate.” I said, “You could have just asked Rowe and she’d have explained it. They think writing rips out bits of your soul or something. Apparently Jerry had a whole side hustle ‘topping off” members of the Sea Shanty Clan who had to sign documents occasionally.”

Sosima stared at me, as if trying to determine if I was making fun of her.

“Seriously!” I said, “I’m surprised it hasn’t come up. Haven’t you noticed that Rowe never writes anything down?”

“No?” Sosima said, “I thought she always requested supplies in person because she was excessively chatty.”

I smiled, and turned back to the slim book. I opened it, and raised my eyebrows.

Observations on the Goblin Art of Warchanting: Collected from the Tribes and Rendered into Proper Common for the Instruction of the Curious Reader

“What’s this?” I asked, intrigued.

“Well, I know that you are quite invested in the fine arts.” She said, “Upon reflection it seemed quite odd that you’d never studied the bardic arts. It seemed imprudent to invite you upon the years-long path into classical bardic magic, but I noticed that even a few goblin youths seem to know a few rudimentary chants. I thought it might be interesting reading, and didn’t know that the goblins themselves would make it all so dreadfully opaque.”

This… is actually really nice. I hadn’t thought about it, but could I learn bardic magic? Not Autopilot. Me.

The thought felt unreasonably exciting. It would probably take months at least before I could manage anything remotely noteworthy, otherwise there’d be a lot more than one in ten bards among the goblins. I could already use magic that made most of the population of the Shackles jealous. That was Autopilot, though.

“That’s… really awesome.” I said.

“It’s honestly a tragedy that you haven’t already been exposed to the fine arts.” She said, “Do your people not have bards? If your magic failed to develop and you were musically inclined, why didn’t you simply learn bardsong to compensate?”

Like a common courtesan? Me, the son of Carys M’Dair?

Elitism? You were getting magically tased for sucking and used as a **** mule and you considered learning music that can bend reality to be beneath you. Seriously, dude, your priorities were fucked.

“This will be awesome to read through.” I said, “Even if I can’t manage to learn the magic, I’m really curious about the theory. Thank you.”

“I also thought that… well, if the worst should happen...” Sosima said, then trailed off.

I smiled at her, practically daring her to continue.

A backup type of magic. Ouch. Thanks for the vote of confidence there, Sima. Not a bad idea, but saying it out loud?

The last few members of the crew to arrive saved Sosima from that verbal snafu. As big a guy as Cog was, he looked strangely small walking down the dock next to Filli. The fact that he was still unsteady on his feet certainly didn’t help either. Linu walked on the opposite side of him, holding one hand, looking as if she was seriously considering whether or not she should let go when they reached the ship.

“Hey guys,” I yelled down, “Need any help?”

I hopped down off the ship, limbering my fingers to cast Levitate. We hardly ever bothered with a gangplank unless I was unavailable, since when I was we could lightly toss both people and pallets of material onto the ship without all that fuss.

I realized belatedly that I might have interrupted a goodbye. I’m not entirely sure what it was in Linu’s blank face that communicated this, but I didn’t need Autopilot to warn me.

“Hey, Filli.” I said in Undercommon, “Let’s get you on the ship. Did they give you the books we discussed? I’d like to take a look at them.”

We spent a few minutes on the deck, where I told all the men lounging around about the good news.

“Filli here has been accepted into the Sentinels of Callistria.” I said proudly, “You might see her reading on deck or in the common room; she’s studying for the role.”

Most of the crew, especially the ones she’d bailed out just a few days prior, cheered at that. People adapt to strange things quickly; the kind of person willing to stay on my ship for long seemed more inclined to be glad she was on our side than nervous she was present. Even so, a few of the newest members of the crew needed an introduction. We hadn’t picked up many new recruits in Quent, but the returning members from Jerry had never seen Filli before and weren’t sure what to make of her. I was fairly sure that their open, faintly horrified staring swallowed up all of Filli’s attention, so I called them over.

“This is Filli.” I said, “My Master of Arms. She’s the finest warrior I’ve ever met. I took her on in Heslandaena, and she helped me see Gobron off. A shame we didn’t get back a day or so earlier; it would have been a very different story for you lot.”

I don’t even know if Master of Arms is a recognized title in the Shackles, but I’m pretty sure people won’t have trouble realizing what I mean and it feels more respectful and honest than calling her my secretary at this point.

“Filli, would you be alright with letting others read your books?” I asked, “I imagine you’ll keep working with Cave Mother and Sosima on binding, and I’d like to spread the knowledge around, but they are your books.”

Filli looked down at me, silent and still as a statue, and nodded.

“My books. They read at table near me.” She signed. “I take back if need.”

“Thanks.” I said, “Oh! Before we go, I got a message from your friends that I sent to Port Peril. They’re doing fine; they even sent you a present. It’s in the crew quarters.”

I took her down to her corner of the ladies quarters, where we snuck past a few sleeping forms from last night's watch including Naomi, who slept closest to her.

During the day when Filli had been fasting, Cabbie Black had sent me a big pile of fancy clothes she’d apparently been unable to find customers for as a no name tailor in the capital. I did my best and sent her back her cut as quickly as I could, but she’d be paid mostly in exposure. Most of them ended up sold to the House of Stolen Kisses at a modest price, and would be given as gifts to female customers by guys male courtesans playing any number of games.

Bundled alongside the impractically ornate getups, I’d found a set of extra large clothes and a letter for Filli. The clothes for Filli were quite a lot more practical than the fancy dresses; the outermost layer was a waterproofed cloak made of dark green fabric that actually fit her quite well. According to her notes, Cabbie had approximated Filli’s size based on Wetosa, who was the mutant that the other three said matched Filli’s size most.

The cloak was meant to be worn alongside a set of white shirts with ruffled sleeves that looked faintly silly, but when Filli put them on her body seemed far more symmetrical thanks to the extra volume on her smaller arm. Two pale blue skirts and a couple chemises to serve as underwear and soak up sweat rounded it out. The collective effect covered up most of Filli’s skin, leaving only her gnarled hands and feet as evidence of her mutated appearance. Her face and hair were really quite cute when presented on their own.

Filli went very still while she looked in the mirror I pulled from my shadow. It was perfectly safe to use as a normal mirror if I didn’t will it to make a clone, after all.

“No sense in wasting those books on disguise magic since we have them, but you look good.” I said quietly, “I hear your friends have similar outfits. Cabbie said to come by her shop if we are ever in Port Peril so she can make clothes better tailored to you. Here; I know you’re still having a bit of trouble reading common, but Cabbie has very good handwriting.”

Filli took the letter delicately with two fingers, gripping with her knuckles so her long nails wouldn’t tear it. I left her to read in the dim light; I’d given Linu as much time as I really could to say goodbye to Cog.

I lingered on the railing, trying to be as uncreepy as possible while I waited for them to stop kissing one another. Or, I suppose, for Linu to let go of Cog. She had pulled his head down six inches by yanking on the collar of his shirt. Once he was free to stand back up and look down at her affectionately, I hopped over the railing as if I’d just arrived.

“I’d better get back on the ship.” He said, “I’m supposed to get back in bed now, remember?”

“Yes, well.” Linu said, her tail flicking from side to side. “You could always just stay. You’ll really be slowing poor Captain M’Dair down in your current state.”

“He’ll be fine.” I chimed in, casting Levitate, “We’ll keep pumping him full of magic until he can’t feel his toes anymore.”

I watched Cog easily vault onto the ship one handed and dismissed the levitation so he could actually walk once he was on the ship. By the time I turned back to her, Linu had fished a stack of papers out of a canvas satchel, and handed both bag and papers to me.

“Your heading, Captain.” She said, handing them to me. “West, it seems. The Captain Harkalm was last seen near Besmara’s Throne before our records go dark, and the Wavestriders live on a collection of islands north of Ushinawa. You’ll find more details inside, and your orders from Lady Fairwind.”

“Oh damn it.” I said, "She's calling in her favor now?”

“Technically no. Not orders, more an offer.” Linu said with a thin smile, “I believe her words to the High Priestess were, and I quote.”

She shifted her stance and did a shockingly close impression of Tessa.

“Since he felt so confident dealing with a Thrune princess himself, how about this? I’ll give him a loan with his ship as collateral if he can take care of whatever mischief she was up to with those horns he thinks I don’t know about.” Linu said, then dropped the impression, “She seemed willing to be quite generous, actually. Ten thousand per ship, but only if you can tell her exactly what had a Thrune so excited.”

I snorted.

Of course. Finish the damn quest and then you get your money. I hear you. Well at least now I have a payout even if the treasure itself is a dud.

“Got it.” I said, “I’ll get right on that. Anyway, did you let the archon familiarize itself with your room? Is there any particular time of day that I shouldn’t send messages?”

“I tend to be asleep between dawn and noon on work days, so don’t expect answers during those times.” She said, “I set up a small station for it to visit in my closet, however. It’s unlikely to wake me up and I don’t invite guests to my room often for anything sensitive. Only Cog, generally.”

“I’ll take care of him.” I promised. “He’s a good friend, and you’ve seen how I treat people who are just employees.”

“I know you will.” Linu said, her face a stony mask, “Well enough that threatening you isn’t likely to do anything useful. I’ve put in an inquiry for that necromancer you work with, but I do have a warning there.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Jerry seems like a perfectly pleasant and useful gentleman, but don’t fight Ragsmauda over him.” Linu said, “She’s been in these islands since before Cheliax broke off from Taldane, at least. She’s an odd one, but creatures like her don’t live centuries if they can’t back up their threats.”

Don’t throw down with a Lich that’s also a head of state. What a revelatory piece of advice.

“I’m not dumb enough to go head to head with her, Linu.” I said, “I’m also not going to leave Jerry out to dry if I see a way I can realistically help him.”

Shame I can’t send him to hang out in Shethalliahaya even if I track him down. Yael made her stance on necromancers pretty clear.

“Don’t attract her eye, Emrys.” Linu hissed. “It’s not worth it, and she can do worse than kill you. There’s no one who is going to step into the ring on your behalf if she decides you’re to be one of her new toys. If you must help him, do it without drawing attention to yourself.”

I looked at Linu and considered lying. Instead, after serious consideration, I said the first thing that had come to mind.

“Well, that would certainly be a novel experience.” I said, “Since I’m getting so much help right now. Linu, I get what you’re saying, but what am I supposed to do? Just let a friend die when I might be able to help him out?”

I could tell from her expression that the answer was a resounding, exasperated “yes, you idiot.” She was cold enough to think it, but not quite enough to say it out loud. I shrugged.

“If you live alone under a rock far away from civilization, you can avoid offending anyone.” I said, “I really don’t want to kill anyone, but I’ve got centuries ahead of me. I’m not going to live them as a coward.”

“Nor will you live them as a fool.” Linu said.

“Yeah, well, we are talking hypotheticals right now.” I said, “I already told you I don’t intend to kick her door down and start blasting. Have a little faith in my intelligence.”

“Never.” Linu said, but she said it with a faint smile. “Just don’t get Cog dragged into anything, or you’ll be lucky if Ragsmauda destroys your soul. Anyway, send me anything you build. I’ve gotten a few cautious responses; I might be able to make this work.”

“Thanks.” I said, and after a couple minutes of boring business chatter, logistical double checks, and a confirmation that Filli’s primers were in the satchel, Linu turned and left.

I teleported onto the poop deck railing in a burst of frozen wind, looked around, and gave the order.

“Alright everyone,” I yelled to the crew, starting the procedure, “I don’t know about you, but I think I’ve had just about enough of the big city. Let’s get going.”

••••••••••

Lamashan 5

We hugged the coast of Motaku, the massive island Quent was on. There were two main routes to Besmara’s Throne, but one of them passed awfully close to Kepre Dua, the Elven capital of the Shackles.

I was genuinely not sure how badly surface elves would react to my presence. Autopilot was sure it would be bad and I didn’t really want to find out while I was on a strict timetable. So far my only interaction with an elf had been Pepper Black’s ship mage and she’d seemed alright, but my current plan was to cast Infuse Self first if I had to meet with any others.

Just a normal, run of the mill sylph here. Nothing to see. Move along.

I did ask Sandara what was up with Besmara’s Throne. It didn’t take much of a logical leap to guess she’d have some insight. Unfortunately, she knew a lot less than I expected.

“If I remember right it’s the old capital of the Shackles.” Sandara said, “That’s mostly because it’s the first place that really was Shackles, you know? All the prissy Chelish folks weren’t willing to get close enough to dock, so some real hard bastards in the old days used it as their base. Set up a temple to Besmara in the most inconvenient place they could find, and once the place was sanctified the Chels didn’t stand a chance. O’ course, they didn’t have the Hurricane Crown yet, so it was just a bunch of lads who hated Cheliax more’n each other at that point.”

I thought of Sosima. She wasn’t exactly adventurous by nature, but from what she told me she hadn’t exactly been the Chelish equivalent of a Navy Seal. If this island was so dangerous that it could be used as a fortress against people who used people like her and Aaron as middle management, I was suddenly feeling a lot more nervous about our approach.

“Do we need a special map or something?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about it.” Sandara said, “You’ve got me. It’ll be easy to get a guide from the locals. I’m a cleric. We’re supposed to do some kind of pilgrimage at some point. I’ll just say I’m here for that.”

“Wait.” I said, “Back up. It’s a pilgrimage site? That’s a bit more holy than just some temple in the middle of nowhere.”

Sandara gave me a smile, her whiskey brown eyes sparkling with mischief.

“How many temples do you think Besmara has outside of the Shackles?” She asked, “How many of them do you think really mean anything in the grand scheme of things? I’m pretty sure the holy island is the most sacred place on Golarion for Besmara. I doubt she cares as much about it as the people who live there do, though.”

I frowned, thinking about it, and looked into my quest log. I had an entry there which had been giving me stink eye for more than a month now.

The Rage of the Waves

You have slain a Xocothian, a child of the Wind and Waves. In doing so you have cemented Gozreh’s ire. You must be absolved by the high priest of a deity with the Oceans domain, or any further infraction against Gozreh will be met with instant retribution.

Reward: Peace with the gods, 2 exp, Sandara Advancement

I’d been pretty good about not polluting the environment or otherwise being a dick to nature, so the claws hadn’t come out again. Even so, the optimal number of gods to have passive aggressively angry at me was zero, and if Besmara didn’t have the oceans domain I would eat my neck cloth.

On top of that, two experience points and a nebulous bonus related to Sandara would make the whole experience a net positive in my book. I could always go for more spells, and every time I’d impressed Besmara in the past she’d pumped up my weather magic.

Callistria wasn’t too bad. I think it’s time to get in touch with my Besmaran side. How hard can a pilgrimage every Besmaran is expected to do really be?