The Lost Voices (OLD VERSION - New Version to Come)

CHAPTER 4... THINKER (PART 1)

Sketch 47: Arrival

8-19-1620 A.R.

Location: Elios, Terrarin

Bristling mist enveloped the overcast sky as a steamship gradually docked in the eastern port city of Moneo, Elios. Numerous sail ships, fueled by magical crews, came in alongside the enormous steamer as an outer chain of naval protection to ensure its safe voyage across the ocean's many threats. At this point, the rain was coming down in occasional sheets and lightly soaking the deck with each spraying wall. 

It doused Retraenon's ashy hair as his head peaked out from the cabin window to view the smoky city. Gothic spires and gorgeous curved stonework were engraved across the city's bustling, cobblestone streets. The industrial revolution was beautiful indeed. 

Coming from Cabrinor, the steam always prickled through his nose like an inspiring vapor and the damp air felt wonderful after being in his homeland's parched deserts. Wistfully, both landscapes stimulated new and differing ideas that he itched to explore.

A smile fleetingly played across his face and he brought his head back into the room as he reminded himself of the reason he was there. He spun on his heel and stepped over his suitcase at the foot of the bed to reach an armoire of rich, burned wood. Clicking it open, he found his more Terrarin-appropriate attire, steamed for his arrival. 

Retraenon glanced down at his present clothes and sighed inwardly. Attached to his belt with cords sown into it was a sheathed, dense, and black katana. It was certainly an element that might attract attention, but it was unavoidable for his own self-defense and the imminent dangers of his mission. His ivory thawb had already been hemmed into more of a long sleeve shirt, adjusted to meet his seafaring travels, and been tied together with his belt so it wouldn't hang past his waist. An ebony fedora had been selected beforehand so Retraenon might rouse less attention from the general passerby. Although, his small, traditional keffiyeh called to him from his suitcase with nostalgia in its threads. 

Shaking his head, the Cabrinite citizen temporarily sealed away his ancestry for the role upon his shoulders.

Retraenon then leaned down and peered into a mirror on the wardrobe's interior, which aided him in fixing his dampened hair into a messy comb-over. As he did this, the long, sharp, white scar that rested above his right eye and split the edge of his eyebrow became exceptionally apparent. It shone against his bronze skin like a clean bone, off-put by his slanted, brown eyes. 

Then he straightened and threw on the long, dark overcoat that covered much of his thawb and ended at the thighs of his ebony trousers. Beneath the lapel on his right side was a small, gold pin that represented his membership in the Watcher's Guild of Cabrinor's government. The insignia took the shape of a comacine knot with curved, onyx edges.

Momentarily, it pushed his mind back to the day he was hired. The covert government agency applauded him with silent nods and short, affirming claps. Each nation, from Terrarin, to Frayix, to Impatra, all knew of this government sect, but few people outside of Cabrinor were aware of how many hidden operatives trickled across Regelia. 

Officially, their work never left the four islands the Guild occupied in the Misty Sea. Of course, no government truly believed that. And yet, the Guild remains innocent of all allegations to the contrary. For his agency, this mission would be no different.

After donning the overcoat, Retraenon glanced at the firm, but thin silver necklace that barely peeked out of his thawb and nodded with affirmation as he gave a thumbs up to the man in the mirror. He proceeded to turn and pick up his suitcase as the ship's blaring horn reverberated through his body and stirred the tiny fennec fox sleeping on his pillow.