ACT ONE: EUROPA

Scene 3: En Boca Cerrada No Entran Moscas

Emily swipped her hand across the air and summoned two glasses. She gave Devon a devilish look and placed the two glasses on the ground. She summon a crowbar and started opening a crate which finally convinced Devon to ask questions. "How do you keep making things appear?" He followed the rim of the glasses with his finger.

"It's", She busted open the top of the crate and pulled out a bottle of whiskey "It's called a magician's inventory". She sat down with crossed legs and poured two glasses of whiskey out for them.

"Is that how you got your sword out back on the docks?"

"Yep". She took another sip and yawned. "First thing you learn when they teach you not to blow things up". She leaned her head on Devon's shoulder and closed her eyes. He looked down at her. He sat there patiently waiting for her to wake up but she stayed asleep until the distance shores of France faded into view. He nudged her awake. She stretched her hand up and yawned. She looked at Devon and her face went bright red. "Don't take that the wrong way". She stood up with her glass and finished it.

"I won't. When did you last sleep?"

She replied with an awkward laugh and "Anyway, you should try to use your inventory. Use the glass". Devon turned his glass in his hand. He hadn't taken a drink. "The way it was described to me was that the world is a sheet of fabric and magicians can control the fibers that make it up. When we use our inventory we take the item and turn it into fibers to implant into the fabric. I think that makes sense".

She made her own glass disappear.

Devon looked at the glass in his hand and tried his best. To his complete surprise he did it on his first try and watched at the glass vanished from thin air. Conjuring it back up was the more tricky part but he eventually managed.

When the ferry docked in France the two hid behind some crates and managed to find their way onto land. They ducked behind some wooden crates and peaked their heads over. Devon could hear a conversation. It went as followed;

"I also heard that the king restricted the trading routes from Asia again. I honestly don't think Calais is going to manage". One worker dressed in a fitted shirt and grey combat trousers said with his arms folded.

The man who replied was dressed in a black suit with golden accents. Clearly he was of a higher status and a higher paycheck. His grey hair was combed back and his square chin moved like a snake. "It doesn't matter. As long as we continue business with Britain then you'll have a job. Unless that is, you want to stand here and complain instead of unloading the ferry?"

"Right. Sorry sir". The worker ran off to complete his assignment.

Devon looked next to him when Emily's elbow hit him. She pointed at the gates, "If he would just move we could make a break for it". She watched him like a hawk.

Devon turned back to the older gentleman. His attention was pulled away from his watch when a worker ran towards him holding a piece of paper. "Monsieur!"
He handed over the paper. "There were runaways on that ferry". He bent down to catch his breathe.

"Oh", the man read the papers "I know I could sense something of little value around here". He turned his head to look straight at Devon. The man raised his hand out towards the box and when he folded his hand into a fist the box followed, breaking under pressure the golden liquid within spilled out and wood went flying. Emily grabbed Devonds hand and ran towards the gate. Her grip was tight and forceful. Devon didn't think he could get away even if he used all his strength. He ran with her through the tall metal gates as if they were gnashing jaws. He turned back to the silent stare of the well-dressed gentleman.

Emily ran towards the large city in the distance and didn't stop until she found an alleyway to hide in. Devon rubbed his wrist and looked out into the streets of Calais. The people were wearing coats and dresses like it was the 1700s, the storefronts bore the fonts of old fashioned newspapers. It was like he was watching a history documentary. Devon turned back to Emily. She had ran for a while and was catching her breath. Once Devon was sure nobody was following them he sat down. Emily slid down the wall to meet him.