Huddling across the deck of the wretched barge were a sickly, tired mass anxiously awaiting to anchor. The crewmen could pass as savage pirates with their pajama pants and puffy shirts, unkempt beards and greasy tattooed skins. The barge's steam-pipe puffed as the side wheels cut forward through the choppy water.

  Out in the horizon, the sharp peaks of their destination were crowned with smokey, wispy clouds.

  As the isnd-towers and shanty isnds became visible so was the noticeable absence of the ferries that taxied their passengers and congested the harbor. A few shadows snapped to life in response to the crudely meshed barge approaching.

  The civilians and the sailors raced against each other to get ready to disembark almost knocking some overboard.

  Alone at the tip of the bow a middle-aged man cd in a bck coat that reached to just above his knees looked on towards the harbor. A muscle twitched on his cheek at the sight ahead, and with one huff, he inhaled the burning herb in his bright red pipe, carved in soft ivory-like material more appropriate for a museum exhibit than practical usage, with the head fairly rge enough to fit in his palm. The st of the embers snuffed out, and so the man tapped the contents off into the water below.

  Those occupying the empty buildings waved at the ship, cd in all sorts of fashions that made their social position a blur. A few were so desperate they attempted to jump aboard. The sailors tensed, but it became apparent they had not much to worry about as the would-be stowaways crashed into the water below, barely keeping afloat as their compatriots fished them out.

  The bck-cd man secured some of his bags on his sides, securing them on the webbing of his body armor as much as he could and hanging them by his neck. His main backpack, stuffed tight with content, was secured with front straps. He made one st weapons check on his revolver, his knife, and his sub-machine gun, which he switched to three-burst.

  A few of the passengers looked back at him with an obvious dumbfound avarice pstered in their faces, but neither did a thing about it.

  They would not have been able to act upon their impulse anyway, even without the loaded sub-machine gun being an obstacle.

  Across the harbor were other battered, rusted floating hunks of metal docked in piers filled with masses as ragged and haggard as the ones just arriving. Shoving each other and their cargo into the ships, they cared not how cramped they squeezed themselves into or whether the ships would flip over. The crews could barely keep order, much less contest with the desperate rabble as they loaded cargo of their own into the holds.

  At st, the steam-pipe whistled down and the wheels stopped turning.

  The broad gangway was lowered port side with much struggle, and just as it was secured, the passengers rushed out with relief in the air.

  And just as they made their way onto the pier, those on the harbor rushed forward in a mad rush to occupy the emptying space.

  The captain, an individual with a fairly crisp coat, was alerted by his crew of the human confluence.

  Captain: What's all this?! STAND BACK!

  One of the sailors banged a bell, summoning the crew to full alert. Bearing clubs and poles, they attempted to maintain some sembnce of crowd control lest this convergence degenerates into violence.

  Through the clogged pier, the man in the bck coat managed to slip through using his gun and shoulder as a guide to part his way through. With much struggle he managed to get through before it became impassable, as evident by the few others on board that managed to get through. The harbor, however, was nonetheless filled with civilians lounging and waiting to board as well, unable to do anything to hurry the process up. Individuals, families, dirt poor, brightly cd - they were all bound by a helpless, oppressive nervousness.

  Among the idle crowd were enterprising individuals attempting to sell whatever they had, from trinkets to scrap metal. Some had more uniformity in what they were hocking, while others need not much expnation to show that they found their wares through plunder.

  As the bck coated man made his way out of the gathering, he patted himself a few times to make sure no one pilfered his person. Once he was confident that he had remained intact, he made his way down east on the road, where rows of lush-painted mud architecture faced towards the harbor. Apartment buildings, small warehouses, storefronts and small thick minarets - all empty except for squatters clumped at the gss-less windows looking onto the harbor.

  Taking a moment to pause over the stone road, he reaches for his coat pocket and takes out a small pouch and his pipe. In the pouch, he takes out a small tube with two dosages of the herbs he was smoking earlier, individually balled up. They resembled small crushed chamomile flowers with pacific blue bulbs with a few red sparks and teal petals. Once he lit it up, he resumed walking east, stopping every once in a while to look back at the commotion back at the harbor.

  The man eventually reached his destination. Occupying much of the block was a three story mud edifice sharply smoothed. The building was annexed by egg-shaped constructions on the sides with window shutters over the portholes and long rectangur windows. The main edifice was rectangur outlined with a wicked decorative frame on material that mimicked butter, and on top was a dome with enough space to walk around it. On the second floor were windows more appropriate on castle walls.

  Through the swinging doors, the man could see someone in a cobalt colored silk-like robe that reached to his ankles with a yellow overcoat with peaked shoulders. On his head was a small cylinder hat outlined with material that looked like bear fur. He was alone sweeping the floor in the barely lit floor.

  Upon entering, the emptiness gripped the man finishing his smoke. Most of the tables had their chairs flipped on top save for those in the front row facing the bar. The couches on the sides had not a soul sitting in them. There was nothing cooking on the fryer, nor the clinking of the gsses. The mirth and joy, shady whispers and hand shaking...the exchange of tender for trade deals or services among transporters and producers, businessmen and potential partners, off-the-cuff employers and willing contractors...

  All gone.

  Such was the state of the "merchant-house."

  The well-cd keeper of the merchant-house did not even bothered to look back at who entered.

  Keeper: If you stay the night you might miss out on getting out!

  Putting away his pipe, the armored man spoke with an authoritative voice.

  Bck-coated man: All the same for me.

  At st, the keeper snapped to attention and looked at who had entered.

  Keeper: Becker?! What the...Where's the rest?

  Taking a moment to react, the bck-coated man reached for the nearest chair and sat down in a way to accommodate the luggage he was carrying.

  Becker: The job went pear-shaped.

  Slightly gulping, the keeper let go of the broom and went for a bottle and two ceramic cups.

  Keeper: I'm sorry to hear that.

  Sitting himself opposite of the recent arrival, he pours the contents of the bottle until they almost reach to top of the cups.

  With some hesitation, he continues to speak.

  Keeper: And I'm sorry for what I'm about to do.

  With one hard motion the keeper downed the contents of his gss first.

  Becker: Really?

  He immediately knew what was the apology really about.

  Keeper: Look I understand that what you went through must have been harsh, but my friends and I couldn't even pay you even if we wanted to. Some of them have already left. I just have enough to get out and...and...

  Becker: Yeah, about that, what exactly are all of you running away from?

  Pouring himself another drink, the keeper drank it first before answering.

  Keeper: While you were all out on sea, the "runaway prince" as you call him took over Landeska. Some saw opportunity. I saw our doom. So I preemptively made enough preparations to get out...But it all happened so fast!

  With resignation to such a turn of events, Becker at st grabbed his cup and drank it while savoring every st gulp.

  Keeper: And now that his brother nded to the north...

  He could not finish the rest despite wanting to press the conclusion. Refilling each of their cups, he lifted his as if about to cheer with a friend.

  Keeper: A farewell to the Free City of Kasba!

  The guest gave a skeptical smile, with his right cheek peaked to the point where he could feel it.

  Becker: Better luck next time.

  *Clink*

  With that, they downed the sweet, sharp drink like much needed water.

  *Pang*

  The cups went down and in the dark rge room the sound reverberated.

  Keeper: Listen, I can't pay you as is, but you're welcome to stay here and..and...if you're interested, you might come with me when I leave.

  Becker: Why wait?

  Keeper: I still got to finish some deals before I can leave! I can't live like a pauper in my exile.

  Though every fiber in his being wished to press upon the issue of unfulfilled payment, the overbearing problem over Kasba would render any payment extracted into pittance.

  Looking down at the cup, Becker contempted all the time and earnings sinking into the bck pit where once comforting drink was just a moment ago.

  He got up, and still feeling sober, mustered a response.

  Becker: What good will that do when you'll all end up living on a barren rock?

  To the left of the bar were stairs leading up to the second floor, obstructed by the wall of the first floor. After a certain distance, the walkway could be seen once again going around in a rotunda balcony fashion. Becker made his way towards them with, guided by the one bright light at the end of the stairs.

  Keeper: Outsider! You...you understand, right?

  He slowly turned around to respond with a frustrated but grave voice.

  Becker: All too well.