Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ About Darkness ❯ KapCeliel ( Chapter 3 )

High wooden houses whose formerly red and green facades were peeling and whose windows were covered with dust lined the narrow cobblestone streets that led through a village which seemed to hold more inhabitants than there were beds. The place was buzzing with activity. Women in ragged suede dresses, curly hair done up in messy buns stood on long balconies and chirped encouraging words at the passers-by, swayed their bony hips and bashed long, painted eyelashes, offering their service to the rugged townspeople.

 

Butchers emptied barrels onto the streets and tattered stray dogs were eager to feast on the contents. The shabby doors of the saloons and pubs barely muffled the noise inside. Singing, shouting, the shattering of glass was to be heard; occasionally one of the drunkards stumbled outside only to relieve himself against the next wall, drop into a muddy puddle and start snoring as soon has hitting the ground.

 

Pigs buried their noses in heaps of garbage, folks scrambled hurriedly away when one of the windows above opened and a night pot was emptied onto the street.

 

The air smelled of sweat, rotting meat, booze, salt and the heavy sweet smoke that emerged from the herb-filled pipes the old seamen smoked.

 

KapCeliel was a port, a trading town at Esthar's western coastline, a melting pot where people of all backgrounds met - travelers, gamblers, adventurers and mercenaries, smugglers, shady businessmen and young blokes looking for a job on one of the ships.

 

No one cast a second glance at the two nomads who pushed through the crowded streets, their movements focused, their steps secure. The bronze skin of the tall, man was covered in black cloth. Complex tattoos adorned the side of his face, throat and shoulder and disappeared beneath the rim of his wide robe.

 

The woman by his side moved with the same elegant agility, her slender yet trim body easily finding a way through the masses. Her tan skin showed a golden hue and her features were more defined than the man's but her hair and eyes shone the deepest shade of black just like that of the other nomads.

 

There were no ornaments visible on her face but one of her high cheekbones bore a scar in the shape of a half-moon. A crimson bandana held back her wild mane and hid part of her forehead and left temple.

 

The pair continued to walk along the main street that connected directly to the pier. Ships of all kinds lay here, tall and small ones, made of plain wooden planks or bearing carved pictures and ornaments.

 

“Therio” The woman halted and nodded her head, indicating one of the larger ships that looked just as weathered as the men that occupied it.

 

They approached it swiftly and were greeted by a bulky, muscular man who leaned over the rail and grinned down at them, exposing two rows of gleaming white teeth.

 

“My, my. What do we have here? Noble Therio and beautiful Elia! How did the Syth know I'd cast the anchor in KapCeliel today?” he thundered jovially and gestured the nomads to climb the plank that led onto the deck.

 

“We did not, Captain Barrett, but we are looking for a partner in trade and meeting you here might prove all of us lucky” Therio replied evenly and retrieved a small leather bag from his robe.

 

Barrett's expression changed. He reached out one leather-clad arm but before he could close a gloved hand around the pouch Therio withdrew it.

 

“If this is what I think it is we have a deal, whatever you want in return”

 

A small smile spread on Elia's face without lighting up her features. “What is your offer?”

 

Barrett smirked and waved her over. She stayed where she was, eying him calmly, until he stepped up to her and put an arm around her shoulder only to draw it away quickly as her hand moved to the leather-wrapped hilt of the sword that was fastened to the side of her belt.

 

“I have ten feet of finest silk from Dalayn for you, two sacs of flour and fifteen pounds of dried figs” he announced.

 

“Keep the silk and make it five sacs of flour” Therio answered.

 

Barrett held out his hand and grinned as the tall man shook it. “Deal”

 

The Captain ordered three of his men to retrieve the goods from the storage room and demanded the pouch in return.

 

Therio made no attempt to hand it out, yet. When the jute sacs were set down in front of him he opened them and dug his hand into the fine, white flour, checking for freshness.

 

“I'm hurt!” Barrett exclaimed with mocked shock. “You will not find any maggots in there! Do you still not trust me?”

 

The nomad did not bother to reply. Only when he had inspected each of the sacs did he rise from his knees and placed the leather purse into Barrett's outstretched palm.

 

“Ah, it's a pleasure to make business with you” he stated. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

 

Therio shook his head and turned to leave the ship but Elia remained where she was, a slight trace of hesitation creeping over her otherwise even expression.

 

“Do you have word from Galbadia?”

 

Barrett's expression darkened. “I avoid those waters these days but I heard of ongoing fighting. Galbadia has retrieved help from Balamb. The sorceress' armies have raided the Southern areas”

 

“Ah” Elia nodded and made to follow Therio who was already waiting for her on the dockyard, shouldering the flour.

 

She picked up the dried figs and looked back over her shoulder. “What will happen if the war spreads to the East?”

 

Barrett shrugged. “Let's hope it won't”

 

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