The quartermaster, a burly man with a weathered face and calloused hands, stood at the center of the port with his back to the anchored ship, his gaze fixed on the slender figure before him. The elf, with her hidden red hair like dimmed flames in the moonlight and eyes that shimmered with an otherworldly light, was an unusual sight. Such beings were rare for him while for others even more so, and the quartermaster’s instincts, honed over years of managing cargo and crew, bristled with unease. It was the third time in as many minutes she mentioned heading to the ship.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his mind a tumult of questions. Elves were known for their mysterious ways and ancient knowledge, but their motives were often at the behest of someone else. The ship was bound for a perilous voyage, and every decision weighed heavily. Allowing the elf aboard could and likely would be harmless. Yet, there was a risk that her presence might invite trouble or disrupt. He didn’t like the cost and benefit of it.

The elf’s calm demeanor and patient stance only deepened the quartermaster’s uncertainty. He could see the glint of the moon on the elf’s delicate features, she had fair hands to match her eyes which meant she wasn’t an elf forced on one of the large farms at the mountainside. He thought of the cargo below deck and the lives depending on the success of this journey. With a sigh, he pulled out a leather-bound ledger, its pages filled with the records of those who had come and gone. This was a decision that could not be taken lightly, for in the unpredictable waters of their voyage, even the smallest choice might steer the course of their fate.

After a long moment of contemplation, the quartermaster sighed deeply and gave a reluctant nod. The elf woman’s presence, though disquieting, could not be ignored. She had an air of quiet determination that suggested she was no mere wanderer but someone with purpose. “Very well,” he said, his voice gruff but resigned. “You may board.”

With the elf there was enough people to start ferrying them to the ship. Some members of the crew who forgoed the festivities of the night were there to help them into the smaller boat and row them to The Silver Wing. While doing so one of the crew was chatty and talking with some of the passengers. 

“This is my third voyage, but my first going north towards the Horn.” The young man was clearly a chatty character. “Last time we had to anchor twice and look within the mountains for food and water. With our climbers they were able to find stuff within two days. Some marvelous edible flowers. We tried to dry them to keep as snacks, but they didn’t take. Still we enjoyed what was gathered for almost a week. The sweetness in them was like nothing I had tasted before.”

At this point the young man was talking to a woman roughly his age. She seemed mesmerized already which clearly did the crew members ego a hearty bounce. Once they arrived at the ship, with the chatty crew member giving another two stories about his first voyage to a large trading city a few months south, the ropes were brought down and attached to the boat which was then lifted with some machines and human help. 

To exit the boat the passengers were asked to swing their legs over and then turn as they could then hop down about two feet to the deck below. From there they were on a mostly quiet ship. Told they could walk around or take to their rooms which would quickly get crowded they let everyone know that some crew and the captain would likely return within the hour. Everyone else would be back by first light and, at first gust they, would set sail.