“Purrrrr.”

  For the loime, I thought cats liked milk because it tasted sweet to them while an easily digestible source of fat.

  “Purrrr.”

  Now, after several licks, I say without a doubt that that is far from the whole truth.

  “Purrrr.”

  Milk is the heavenly tration of ecstasy, and it is merely the humans g ability to realize such a thing. Clearly, when the gods spoke of Ambrosia aar, they were speaking of milk.

  “Purrrrr.”

  Oh, how blind I was to think I knew of life's happiness.

  “Purrrrr.”

  “rade Quasi, you like milk, yes?”

  I shift my head away from such heavenly ar to gre at the grinning Russian that would dare distract me.

  “My blood is being repced by dopamine. I’m in fug heaven right now.” I turn my head towards my new favorite human.

  “Cy, you may tihe petting.”

  “Ok!”

  The child pces his hand on my bad softly strokes it as though I am being given a massage.

  “Purrrr.”

  “Oy, Gunna need a refill Oan ma drink!” Cillian asks after he finishes his third bottle.

  Brenis shines a gss with a rag. “I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

  “I’s hevny.” he burps and then notices his half-eatehen tinues eating it.

  “Give him jui one of the bottles and tell him it's a special wine. He’s too drunk to tell.” Irmgard whispers while holding a gss of tequi over a perfectly pte with every fish bone anized and ated for.

  Brenis nods and does just that.

  “Special wiastes a wee weak.” I hear cillian pin.

  When I finally finish my milk and turn to my skewer, I 't help but frown at how full I already feel.

  “Borris, you take my skewer. I’m kinda full now.”

  “Da.” Brabs my skewer and adds it to the remaining three on his pte.

  Finally, I turn to our [Tavern keeper].

  “Now, as I was saying. My unique css turned me into a talking cat, which is both good and bad. Good in the sense I have better taste buds than any of you, but bad in the sense I am a cat. Me and my crew here were on a ship that crashed on this isnd. We are what's left of the survivors. Currently, we’re in need of transport and additional funds.”

  Brenis g the bag of s still on the ter. “You seem to not be g in funds.”

  “For now, yes. But I’d feel more reassured if we had a crate of s instead of several bags.”

  Brenis raises an eyebrow. “Several bags? If you have several bags of , then you already have more than everyone else in this bar bined. Hell, most [Captains] don't have as much as you have on hand.”

  My pas the ter while my tail flicks left and right. “Sure, sure. But is it enough to buy a ship?”

  Brennis frowns. He taps his . “Well, you could maybe afford a used Corvette for five hurist, but a new one will easily cost you ihousands. Tens of thousands if you’re looking for a Frigate.”

  “I see.”

  I stand up and catwalk to the bag on the ter, which elicits a pout from Cy. “How much are the meals and the broken stool going to e?” I ask.

  Brenis looks at all of the ptes and gsses on the ter.

  “Well, drinks are a trist each. Bottles are five trist, so that's twenty three. As for the food, the fish and stew are only a trist, and skewers are two per trist. So that's twelve trist rounding down. The stool is going to e thirty to repce. That means your total is 65 trist.” He expins coolly.

  “Aight.” I lean down and rip opering on the bag, allowing all the s to spill on the ter. “Alright, take sixty-five trist, and awo for the information.”

  Brenis nods and walks up to the s, of which there are three types. The s are all two inches wide. A bnd of broh a ship pictured on it. A green with a bigger ship pictured on it. And a twice as thick red with an even bigger ship pstered on it.

  Brennis looks at all the s, impressed. “If you’re willing, I have a hecto-trist I’d like to denomio smaller currency.”

  Oh? Perfect.

  “Go ahead.”

  Brenis leaves aurns with a thick red .

  Ahh, so the red s are called hecto-trists. Let's see what he does with the rest.

  Brennis begins by taking sixteen of the green s and then seven of the bronze. He leaves the red near .

  So, the bronze are worth orist, the greens are ten trist, and the reds are a hurist. Seems simple enough. I wonder if the s have some other usage other than currency.

  “Boriss, put our s in the bag.”

  “Mmm.” Boriss answers with the st skewer in his mouth. The man just roughly ate four thousand calories in a matter of minutes.

  “Now, Brenis, who do you reend I talk to about getting my hands on a ship?”

  Brenis grabs the fies and pces them uhe ter. “You’ll probably want to talk to [Head Shipwright] Severus if you want something new. As for something used,” he raises a hand to a board he entrao the tavern, “you post a request for a used ship, or see if someone is looking to sell.”

  “Perfect.” I nod and turn to my panions. “If you all are done, let's check the board and head out.

  Cy pouts at my decision. “You’re leaving?”

  I nod. “Yes, we are. We o pn and find a pce to rest.”

  Cy perks up. “You stay with me and my grandpa! We have extra rooms.”

  At her words, the silent grandpa in the er quickly stands up as though the e is there just for show. He then rushes to the bar with little use of said e.

  “Apologies, please ignore my grandson. Those extra rooms aren't fit for habitation.” The old man looks at the child urgently, “I hope you had fun today. We should be heading home. It is rather te.” His eyes gnce several times at the sword ards hip while his own hands tighten around his e.

  Cy points, but ends up nodding. Then the kid turns to me and grins, “ I carry you outside, then?”

  I snort. “Sure, but let's stop at the board first.”

  “Ok!” Cy says happily.

  I hop off of my perd nd in the giggling kids arms. I am then carried to the board while Boriss carries Cillians unscious self.

  We arrive at the board and only now does it occur to me that the nguage in front of me is pletely fn but I’m able to read it.

  Painting my ship.

  I’ve just gotten a hold of Vermillion Mana Paint and need an experienced [Paio apply it to my ship. Level 25+ required.

  50 Trist upon pletion. Waste of paint will be deducted from pay.-[Captain] Meregon fht.

  Looking for [Ship Cook]

  I am a level 27 [Deft Captain] of a Frigate and am in need of someoh a ary css to work as a [Ship Cook].

  5 Trist per day paid at port. Food and board is fully covered.-[Deft Captain] Antereform

  Clear the corruption from Arbor.

  The isnd of Arbor has a siess in the ter of the isnd that is killing all living things. Remove or Cure the siess.

  I am my Cored Frigate to anyone who is able to successfully clear the corruption.-[Woodwork Mayor] teran Adams.

  Clear corruption in the ter? If I remember correctly, the ter of the isnd is a massive s deadzoill, there's a ship on offer…

  “Hey, Cy,” I raise a paw at the sign. “What's this about corruption? Do you know the story? The sign looks rather old.”

  Cy pouts. The child turns to his grandfather. “Gramps,” the kid points at the rather aged sign. “What is the story about this?”

  The grandfather sighs. “It's an old story, but this towo be extraordinarily prosperous a good eighty years ago. The isnd produced thick Arborean trees with many in the isnd's ter having fully formed cores. But then, something crashed in the ter of the isnd that created a storm of decay which killed everyone and everythihe ter. Afterwards, a ke of decay sprouted up and has kept a good half of the isnd uninhabited.”

  “Huh, and nobody has tried to figure out what happened?” I ask.

  “Many have tried, but none were able to get anywhere he ter thanks to the enviro. I imagine a specialized high-level team would be capable of such a task, but such a team wouldn’t do so for merely a Cored Frigate.”

  Don’t mimicus have the ability to adapt to their enviro? If the only thing stopping people is the enviro, I might be able to solve the problem, or at-least figure out what is causing the problem ahat information.

  “Do you know if this request and reward is still avaible?”

  The old man shrugs. “Maybe. You’d have to speak with the [Mayor] and ask.”

  “I think I just might. Cy, let's go outside.”

  When we exit the tavern, I hop off of d climb up on Boriss’s shoulder that isn't carrying a bag of potatoes.

  “By the way,” I look at the old man, “You’ve been staring at my panions sword the eime. I don't suppose there is a reason for it?”

  The old man grimaces while taking what would normally looks like an old man leaning on his e, but is actually the stance of someone ready to cut. To my surprise, Irmgard subcously pces a hand on her sword and Boriss’s muscles tense up.

  Good instincts.

  “Why do you carry such a bde?” the old man asks wearily.

  “Because it's good quality.” I answer. “Some guy dressed in a fancy bck suit retly dropped it. So I picked it up.”

  The old man raises an eyebrow as though everything ing out of my mouth is plete bullshit.

  Just as the tension rises a bit higher, a [Guard] rushes to us. “Myers, take yrandson home.” The man then looks at us. “You all should go somewhere safe too.”

  “Garis, right? What exactly is happening?” Myers asks the [Guard].

  “We foueen unscious bodies tied up in a shed. All of them have been robbed.”

  Fuck! How were they found so fast? Boriss made sure to tie them up real good.

  Myers looks at me and my group and then shifts his gaze back to the [Guard].

  “These robbers, do we know what they look like?” Myers asks.

  The [Guard] shakes his head. “No. One of the Victims is a Raven [Captain] [Bounty hunter] who mentioned something about a cat, but he seemed to be fused. Anyway, get home and stay away from dark alleys. I have to warn more people.”

  The [Guard] ehe tavern and begins yelling inside.

  The old mao rex as he stares at us warily. He g the sword ards hip several times, and then g Cy. He releases a sigh. “If you four behave, I have two extra rooms in my home where you stay the night.”

  “Yay!” Cy squeals in happiness aends his arms towards me.

  Damn. If I wasn’t nearly ten thousand years old and a great judge of character, I would think the old man is pnning to lock us in his room and call the [Guards].

  “t.” I hop off Boriss shoulder and nd in Cy's arms.