A few days passed. Tristan activities were heavily invested in getting to know these various crew members. Not just spending time to himself, working on improving himself with his essence crucible practice and inner world reinforcement, but he wanted to know the different people and get the measure of each of them.

The once-pirate crew were grateful for his mercy, and the chance to earn an honest living to support their families. They were eager to prove their worth, and Tristan found them quite amiable despite their standoffishness towards the Tideskipper's Crest's crew.

That crew, the crew he started off with on the journey from Jewel's Point, were business professionals. Despite him trying to make conversational inroads, his earlier actions with the pirate assailants seemed to have rubbed them in quite the wrong way. He confirmed this with Captain Yokain, who said, "Just give them some time. They lost three shipmates they'd known for years. They'll come around, in time. Just give them time to grieve and hold their grudge. They blame you, right now, for their lack of revenge – but they'll turn a leaf eventually."

Turning his attention to the Pathfinders, Tristan was given an equally frosty reception. They had not lost anyone during the fight and were not forced to fight – they had done so of their own volition. But Tristan giving orders and instilling a sense of control was something they were not used to, being party-based operatives without any traditional hierarchy. As William put it, "They're just not used to being ordered around. Just don't do it again, unless they ask."

And so, it was a frosty few days; not the temperature, no, but the relations that Tristan was trying to build up between these varying groups. Ultimately, he was relying on the two contracts with the ship's captains, and their mutual desire to make money to keep relations friendly.

"Land ahead!" a crewmate yelled from the crow's nest.

Tristan was below decks when he heard the shout and tapped Felicity on the head to wake her up, "Come on. Land is in sight."

She yawned, stretched like a cat would, and then clambered up to his head before taking her usual seat. "We should really look at getting you a pillow to wear up here. I deserve such a seat."

Tristan just shook his head. Leaving the lower decks behind, he headed to the bow. The land at the edge of his sight was lush and green. A relatively flat landscape, with little indication of hills or mountains in the distance. Obadai was already there, as was Shandra, and both were looking ahead along with some of the Pathfinders.

Obadai glanced sideways as Tristan joined them at the rail, "Maladonia. A land embroiled in civil war."

"It's very flat-looking," Shandra said.

"It is a large, flat landmass, yes," Obadai replied as he puffed his pipe. "They have to import their metal from other countries. But they have rich, abundant fields of flowers. And you know what flowers bring? Bees. That means honey. Their mead industry makes them a pretty amount of coin."

Tristan glanced at one of the Pathfinders, "And you all are just being paid to fight in this civil war?"

The man nodded, "Yup. Flors for me and my group." He pointed to a group of Pathfinders on the opposite side of the bow, "Them's going to be fighting for the Founts."

Tristan glanced between the two, "So you're going to be fighting each other? Despite being part of the same company?"

"Ayup. Probably won't meet on the battlefield, but if we do…" he trailed off and let Tristan's imagination fill in the blanks.

That unsettled Tristan. I always thought that Pathfinders were a brotherhood that stuck together through thick and thin, taking on epic quests of heroism and saving people. But they're just mercenaries, judging from these two groups.

He sighed, and Felicity tapped him on the head sensing his discomfort. "It's going to be fine. We are just doing a pit stop, fixing up a ship, taking a jaunt to the Fey Realm to stock up, and then we go on our merry way." She grinned, "And while we restock…I can get up to some hijinks!"

"I don't think it'll be that simple," Captain Yokain said as he joined Tristan. "We may end up being halted and held up." He put a hand on Tristan's shoulder as the two stared out at the slowly approaching landmass. "It may be worth getting your hands a bit dirty, if you can afford the detour."

"Why?" Tristan asked as he turned his back to the rail, leaning against it. "I have a task to complete."

"I imagine whoever you end up siding with – if you join this conflict – would owe you a great debt. Such a debt, that they may name you as one of the primary trade partners who can export their delicious, very profitable mead."

Tristan frowned, "I'm not interested in being a merchant."

Yokain leaned in and whispered, "You might not be interested, but I can guarantee you that the crew – both ship's crews – would love you for securing such a lucrative contract."

"I don't need their love, I need their labor," Tristan replied in the same whispered tone.

Yokain squeezed a bit on Tristan's shoulder, and his voice became more tense and filled with some annoyance, "You don't get it, Lord Tristan, so I'll make it simple – you want to do this. If you get this contract, and pass it onto me to execute, you will be one of the only exporters of their mead. I've been trying to get a contract with them for decades. It's more than just about money. It's about prestige. You can open doors with the seal of being their official salesperson and emissary for goods. A middleman. This is your key to meeting kings, lords, chiefs, and even emperors."

Obadai leaned in, voice equally hushed but serious. "You should listen, Tristan. I know you don't want to play politics, and getting involved in any war can be…messy. But the political gains far outweigh any moral quandary you may feel. And besides, I know where Bertram is." He tapped his temple, "Located him with divination. He's on Yustat, currently residing in the Citadel of Essence with his lover. Apparently, making incursions to the Elemental Realms has become part of the curriculum, and he's being kept on-hand in case dragons come mucking about with the students. A nice Pathfinder contract, apparently."

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That brought Tristan some relief, "So I'm not going to be chasing him down across the world. If I wanted to, it seems like I could afford to detour slightly."

"Correct," Obadai replied.

Tristan looked up at Felicity and swapped to Elvish, "Mitä mieltä sinä olet?" (What do you think?).

She made some paw-claw biscuits on his head, and her voice was filled with nervousness. "Mielestäni se voisi olla arvokasta. Minä... pelkään sotaa. Luulen, että sinunkin pitäisi pelätä. Se on vaarallista. Mutta voisit myös pelastaa monia henkiä taitavuutesi ja loitsuntajuutesi ansiosta." (I think it could be valuable. I...am scared of war. I think you should be, too. It's dangerous. But, you could also save a lot of lives given your prowess and spellweaving).

Tristan looked at William, who had joined the group at the bow. "Tell me more about this civil war. I know it's because the king had two wives from different noble families, and both produced sons at the same time."

William nodded, "Yup. The Founts have Prince Roland, and the Flors have Prince Merrill."

And I know the Founts took the trade goods that Destiny's Prize had on board, he thought. "Which faction was the primary aggressor?" Tristan asked.

"They…sort of happened at the same time? The king died, both men claimed the throne, and then they had a duel. They wounded each other – go figure – and both passed out. The families retreated, the capital was abandoned…and they've been gathering armies to wipe out the other side."

Yokain nodded, "Aye, that sounds right. I met the Prince Merrill once. A fine young man some fifteen years ago. He'd be in his mid-thirties or early-forties now. Never met the other one, though – but heard rumors he was a bit arrogant…and warranted that arrogance with his intellect."

William smiled, "That's the faction my group is going to be working for! The Flors. You going to help us out, Tristan?"

Tristan looked back at the now-approaching shoreline. "I don't know yet," he said softly. "Let me think on it."

The idea of getting into a large-scale conflict was intimidating, and it did not give him much in the way of improving his spell type access, as he doubted dragons would be brought through Incursions on behalf of either side. In the same vein, he would not be studying and meditating. Plus, the risks were quite large – war was violent, and wars caused deaths.

Yokain nodded, "We can pull into port, regardless. Rigger's Cove has always been neutral territory."

"Not anymore," Captain Marcus interrupted as he joined the group. "That's where the Founts nicked our goods."

Tristan looked between the two men. "Your ship needs to be pulled in for extensive repairs. And I need stable earth to travel to the Fey Realm to grab the various trade goods we'll need, since I don't want to risk reappearing in the middle of the air above the ocean." He looked to Yokain, "Can we keep this ship out here? Drop anchor, and take the rowboat in? I'd rather not risk both ships if I can help it."

Yokain nodded, "I was about to suggest just that. When we get to shallower water, we'll lay anchor." He looked over to Captain Marcus, "Your lads fine double row boating over to drag your ship?"

The Vantir man nodded, "Aye, Admiral."

Tristan looked over to Shandra, "You stay on the ship here with the Admiral."

Shandra nodded and smiled a little bit, "I'm not a fan of sitting on the sidelines, and I was hoping to feel some solid ground under my feet. But I don't want to by anywhere near a war zone."

Tristan headed down to the quarters, gathered up all his gear, and retrieved all his equipment from the storage space. Once he was fully armed and armored up – including a bandolier wrapped around his torso with a (Greater) healing elixir, (Greater) essence elixir, and panacea elixir, he returned to the deck.

The anchor was run out to tether the ship and the sails were furled. Tristan looked over at Obadai, "I've decided." He also made eye contact with Admiral Yokain, "I'm going to join this civil war, help end it swiftly and prevent as much bloodshed as possible, and then I'll get you this contract you insist is so important."

Obadai walked over to him and clapped a hand to his pauldron, "We are aligned in purpose in this matter, I think. I can always make a show of force and maybe we can help prevent a conflict with an overwhelming display."

Tristan nodded, "If it can save lives…and this contract is so important…then let's get to it." The two men made their way to the rowboat, and ropes were attached from that to the damaged vessel that was not laying anchor. Another rowboat joined them, and a small group of crewmen from the Tideskipper's Crest along with all but the pilot from Destiny's Prize hauled on oars towards Rigger's Cove.

There were armed, armored, and tabard-covered men who stood on the docks as they rowed their boats over. Tristan stood up and under one of the crewmate's instructions held onto the wooden pylon whilst the crewmate tied off the boat. There were several cargo nets along the dock, and he pulled himself up the slimy, muck-covered cargo webbing as he hoisted himself onto the wooden platform that creaked slightly.

The man in the lead was wearing a tabard with a chalice upon it. A Fount soldier. "An Elf?"

"Not just any Elf," Tristan replied as he scraped the gunk from his hands onto the top of the wooden pylon. "I am Lord Tristan. This ship has been hired by me, as is the one anchored further out. To whom am I speaking with?"

"Sergeant Pomme. And I say you better prepare your ship to be inspected." He pointed out to the harbor, "That one, too. We'll take one of those rowboats of yours and go right out there to confiscate goods for the war effort."

Tristan frowned as the Pathfinders piled out of the boats and split themselves into their two groups – William and his companions on one side of the docks in a cluster behind him, and another group that pushed past – led by the burly, older Pathfinder that Tristan had spoken with a few times. His voice rumbled out, "Pathfinder Jacob. Your Prince Roland sent out a quest – we're here to take it." He produced some slip of parchment, handing it to the Sergeant.

The Sergeant took it, unfurled the document, nodded, and then reached into his hip pouch and pulled out several patches that were of a simple, metal chalice. "Get this sewed on your gear. Then report to the barracks." The Pathfinders moved past the Sergeant, and he returned his gaze to Tristan, the Destiny's Prize that was being roped off and pulled tight to the dock for repairs, and the crew aboard that vessel. "Well now, Lord Tristan. Obey our orders or be placed under arrest."

Tristan rested a hand on his sword, "You don't want to do this. Start a diplomatic incident with a foreign Lord? It seems quite rash. For all you know, I could be on your side."

The guards glanced at each other, but the Sergeant stood firm. "You would've been with those other Pathfinders that just went by." He pointed at the group behind Tristan, "These ones are either with you-"

"They are," Tristan interrupted. "They are hired by me. Protection."

The Sergeant looked back to Tristan, "You'll speak to the Lieutenant."

"And if I refuse?" Tristan asked. "You are willing to risk a possible valuable ally?"

"Not my choice," the man replied.

William got up behind Tristan, "You do know we aren't working for these ones, right?" his voice was an urgent whisper, and Tristan could hear the tension in the young man's voice.

Tristan glanced back at him, whispering in a calm tone, "You are. I'm still undecided. But I can at least get you past safely and on your way." He turned back to the Sergeant and raised his voice once more to conversational. "Tell you what, I'll talk to your Lieutenant, with my Pathfinder retinue here. Do not board my vessel here. I have good coin to pay for the repairs they need and to get them some supplies. Please, lead the way."

The Sergeant turned and led the way down the docks. Tristan followed, with Obadai and the Pathfinders tagging along.

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