Ella and Helletta made their way down to the docks, where the Helsuk rested below, its battered hull swaying gently with the motion of the water. Shafts of light filtered through the gaps in the dock above, casting a shimmering, broken reflection across the water that danced over the wooden beams. As they peeked under, the shimmer caught their faces, casting an ethereal glow.
But the sight that met them was anything but magical. The Helsuk sat there, stripped and hollowed out, pieces of it missing, its once-sturdy frame now little more than a shadow of a boat. Helletta’s heart sank. She didn’t even feel anger—only a deep, lingering sense of disappointment, as if something vital had been taken from her that she could never get back. She stared at it, eyes vacant, her face painted with a look of quiet resignation.
Ella glanced at her, catching the distant expression in her friend’s eyes, and felt a pang of sympathy. Digging into her satchel, she nudged Helletta gently. “Come on,” she said, trying for a brighter tone. “I have a little money. Let’s get lunch—my treat.” She gave a small grin. “Well, it’s not exactly my money… but it’ll do.”
The offer seemed to take a moment to register, but finally, Helletta nodded, letting herself be led away from the ruins of her boat and toward the busy streets. They found a food stall with hearty plates of fish and rice, and Ella watched in surprise as Helletta devoured each dish placed in front of her. After the first few bites, Helletta’s eyes began to shine, her entire demeanor lifting as if the weight of the day had never existed. By the time she finished, Ella was nearly broke, but it was worth every coin to see the transformation.
Helletta released a satisfied sigh, leaning back in her chair, looking as if the entire day's frustrations had been wiped clean from her face. There was no trace of the earlier crankiness in her expression, just a serene contentment as she closed her eyes for a moment, reflecting on how stressful the day had been. But then, a small pang of worry surfaced as she realized it had been three days since she’d last seen her master.
The pub around them was filled with the kind of raucous, unpredictable energy that Helletta secretly loved. She felt at home in places like this—the clatter of mugs, the loud bursts of laughter, the occasional clash of a chair as a disagreement turned into a scuffle. It was the type of place she visited whenever her master was away for long stretches, a place where the world felt big, wild, and open. Having spent much of her life raised by the streets, Helletta found a strange sort of calm in the chaotic ebb and flow of the pub’s noise.
After a few moments of quiet, Helletta’s eyes sparkled with an idea, and she turned to Ella with a beaming smile. “So,” she said, her tone bright and eager, “is there a way we could make money without all that delegation nonsense?”
Ella’s initial response was a frown, her face tightening as if she were about to give Helletta a lecture. But after a pause, her expression softened. She seemed to consider something, then gave a slow nod. “Maybe,” she replied carefully, leaning in close. “There are… ways to make money outside the regular channels.” She hesitated, her tone almost cryptic, and her gaze darted around the room as if she were checking to see if anyone might be listening.
Instead of answering directly, Ella gestured toward the job board mounted on the wall across the pub. The board, a rough slab of wood covered with notices, was plastered with an assortment of jobs scrawled in varying handwritings. There were tasks for hunters, chemists, dream weavers, and fishers. Jobs for everything from protection to tracking lost items, and even more sinister requests for murder, each with its own promised reward. Some were hastily written with barely legible ink, others carefully detailed, listing profits that ranged from a few coins to fortunes that could change a person’s life.
Ella leaned back, folding her arms with a satisfied smile. “We could take on a job from there, make some quick money.” She nodded at the board, and her eyes sparkled with an invitation.
Helletta, studying the board, raised a brow, her mind turning. “And if we did that,” she asked, “could it qualify us to enter the festival?”
Ella was silent for a moment, her expression clouded as she considered the question. Finally, she sighed, raising her hand and making a swift, slicing motion in the air, as if she were drawing an invisible line. She continued the line down, her fingers tracing a path through the air until her hand hovered just above the table, a dividing line of sorts, separating one side from the other.
“There’s a strict line that separates the Empire from the rest of the world, Helletta,” she said, her tone serious. “And that line is the delegation process. It’s the backbone of Hayazaki’s empire. It’s what divides ‘civilization,’ as they call it, from everyone else.”
Helletta watched her carefully, her expression unreadable. Ella continued, her eyes fixed on the invisible line she’d drawn. “If you don’t want to be part of it, that’s fine—you can take whatever jobs you want, rise up in the margins, make a name for yourself out here. But without the delegation process, you’ll always be on the outside.” She looked up, meeting Helletta’s gaze. “Living on the edges of society is possible, but you won’t ever get the full benefits that come from being on the other side of that line.”
The words hung heavy in the air, a quiet challenge and a warning all at once.
Helletta nodded slowly. “Okay.”
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Ella’s face immediately lit up, her eyes brightening as she leaned forward, assuming Helletta had agreed to enter the delegation process. But before Ella could speak, Helletta added, “I’ll make my way… without participating in it.”
Ella’s smile faded, her shoulders slumping in disappointment. She crossed her arms, her face falling into a pout. Helletta suppressed a smile, noticing the dramatic shift in her friend’s expression.
“Are you still interested in helping me?” Helletta asked, arching an eyebrow, a trace of challenge in her tone.
Ella looked away, her lips pressed in a slight frown as she mulled it over. Her fingers tapped impatiently against her arm, and she let out a long, exaggerated sigh before nodding. “Fine,” she said reluctantly. “But only because I hate wasting good potential.” Her words were clipped, but there was a sparkle in her eye that told Helletta she was excited, despite herself.
With that, they both made their way to the board, eyes scanning over the various notices for any job that might suit them. After a quick discussion, they agreed on one thing right away: neither was interested in any task that would require them to go deep under the sea. Helletta’s Helsuk was no longer seaworthy, and she refused to show up back home without it. To her, that old Helsuk wasn’t just a vessel—it was her connection to her master, and without it, returning felt out of the question.
Ella and Helletta scanned the job board, their enthusiasm quickly dampening as they looked over each listing. Nearly every opportunity seemed to require either a functional Helsuk or specialized gear—gear that Helletta had once kept in her Helsuk, now stripped and lost. She felt her shoulders sag, the weight of that missing boat settling over her yet again as each option on the board proved to be out of reach.
After a few more minutes, they found one last posting that neither required a Helsuk nor specialized equipment. It was a job in the Quartersquare market—or rather, what was left of it. Helletta and Ella exchanged a look; for better or worse, it was their only option.
The Quartersquare market had once been one of the largest and busiest markets in Stratus Heaven, a place where vendors from all over brought their wares, food, and exotic finds. But that changed when a notorious tamer named Remarn Proust took an interest in the area. At first, he’d only harassed the region, stirring up trouble with his flock of Serkulls, but soon he’d established himself as a kind of kingpin, claiming the market as his own territory.
The Serkulls—sharp-beaked, menacing birds—were, on their own, little more than a nuisance. They stole food, squawked incessantly, and had a tendency to dive-bomb people who annoyed them, which was easy enough since they seemed to live in a constant state of irritation. But Remarn had taken his flock of Serkulls to a whole new level. With over a hundred of these birds under his command, each one bred with unusually large wingspans and razor-sharp beaks suited for fast dives, it was no longer a simple matter of dealing with a pest. These Serkulls could strike from above without warning, slicing through the air with alarming precision, leaving vendors and shoppers alike too fearful to set foot in the market.
The local city guard had initially dismissed the issue with Remarn and his Serkulls. Crime was nothing new in the far shore regions of Stratus Heaven, and it typically faded as quickly as it appeared. Small-time troublemakers would come and go, often dissolving into nothing more than brief annoyances. They expected this new nuisance to follow the same pattern, assuming Remarn and his flock would drift off or wear out their welcome on their own.
But this time, they were wrong.
Instead of dissipating, the chaos in Quartersquare Market only intensified. Remarn’s control over the area began to attract an influx of unsavory figures, the types the guard had hoped wouldn’t catch wind of Stratus Heaven’s shore. Soon, poachers—the kind who hunted endangered fish from the southern waters—were arriving, followed by chemists skilled in the creation of illicit substances, and rogue hunters known to capture rare beasts for unsanctioned arenas. It wasn’t the worst of crimes—no people traders or cutthroats—but the characters it drew were rough and unprincipled, each bringing a new layer of corruption to the once-busy market.
With the place now a concentrated den of illegal activity, it didn’t take long for the guards to realize they’d lost control. But sending for reinforcements would mean drawing in officers from the local southern garrison—a step that would force the guards to admit their failure, one that could likely cost many of them their jobs. The garrison officers weren’t known for leniency, and their intervention would mean a full-scale crackdown and restructuring.
Realizing this, the city guards struck a silent but bitter compromise with the criminals of Quartersquare Market. The deal was simple: as long as crime stayed within the invisible boundaries of the market, the guard would turn a blind eye. In return, the criminals would respect these boundaries and keep their activities contained. It was an uneasy truce, but one that served both parties—so long as neither crossed the agreed-upon lines.
With no other options left, the job in Quartersquare Market became their only path forward. Normally, you’d expect Helletta, stubborn and headstrong, to leap into the challenge while the more cautious Ella tried to hold her back. But the promised reward scribbled beneath the job description had worked a peculiar magic on Ella’s mind. Her eyes gleamed with determination as she tore the posting from the board with a flourish, clutching it to her chest as if it were a prized possession, ensuring no one else would have the chance to claim it.
As she tore the paper down, the barman let out a low chuckle. “No need to hoard that job, girls,” he said, wiping a glass with a smirk. “No one’s going to take it. No one’s crazy enough to take it.”
Ella ignored his scoff, holding her head high. “Well, maybe no one’s crazy enough—except us.” She thumped the paper proudly and, raising her voice to the room, announced, “We’ll take down Remarn. We’ll defeat the Serkull king and restore Quartersquare Market to what it once was!”
The entire pub burst into laughter, their jeers rolling over the two girls like waves. It was a fool’s errand, they said, a reckless venture with no real chance of success. No one even knew who had dared to post the job, and the details of payment were sketchy at best. But Helletta and Ella ignored the laughter, their faces resolute as they headed for the door, clutching the job notice like a flag.
They knew, deep down, that this was a long shot—a path fraught with risks and unknowns. But it was also the only shot they had. Big rewards, Helletta reminded herself as they stepped out into the bustling streets, were never won by playing it safe.
