Fire Prince
**
The Pelagic Navy strictly controlled the flow of men and goods between the planes. Customs was a laborious and frustrating reality for all bridge-crossers. Only minute samples of resources could be brought through before the festival. The ten days gave the admiralty board time to decide what was to be harvested and how much.
Merchants unaffiliated with the Navy voiced their disdain yearly, but the Brothers had decided long ago the tight regulation of traffic was vital to Pelagos’s ultimate safety. Luckily for the shipbuilders, the allotment for timber was generous; it would take all summer to fill the quota.
This strict regulation catalyzed the creation of the Smuggler’s Express long ago; a group of skilled criminals renowned for their ability to get anything to anyone. The smuggling ring only had one hardline rule; never work for any affiliate of the Navy.
Once a customer was blacklisted no smuggler would ever work for that client again. The tight loyalty of the group and this unanimously followed rule had made the ring nearly impenetrable for the Naval Police force tasked with dismantling the organization.
The crowning jewel of the mythos of the Smuggler’s Express was the six year period where Qin himself headed the investigation of the ring. Six years of the highest profile person in Pelagos meant it was nearly impossible for Qin to hide his subordinates’ attempts to infiltrate the illegal conglomerate. It was six years of the most profitable smuggling on record.
The ship builders waited the ten day hiatus before harvesting the riches of Rosewood Thicket, the smugglers didn’t. To a man every one of the planar cartographers had already begun the real survey of Rosewood. Bringing samples of anything they thought they could sell through the Express; animals, plants, fungi, soil, ores, gems, if it could line their pockets it crossed the portal.
“Aren’t you supposed to be rehearsing?” asked Andin.
“I’ve got the basic idea down, I’ll wing it,” said Fake confidently.
Andin flipped open his chronometer, “Well we’ve got a few hours before the party starts; want to come check something with me since you aren’t busy?”
Fake shrugged carelessly, “I’m busy but I can make time for a friend.”
With some distance between them and the portal site Andin began walking with his hands out in front of him. “I’m feeling the ground,” said Andin knowing what Fake was about to ask. “When I was pulling up the stage I felt a gap in the rock beneath the soil,” he explained.
“Like a cave?” asked Fake.
“Definitely like a cave,” answered the fire prince. “I looked over some of the maps the cartographers posted; there isn’t a cave entrance near here, but there are a few streams that stop abruptly. I’m thinking there is a decent sized cave system beneath the portal site.”
Fake was intrigued, “So you’re looking for the entrance?”
“No, actually I hope there isn’t one, I’m just following the one of the cave’s branches until I think it’s safe to dig.” The duo reached the tree line and Andin began pulling cylinders of soil from the ground. “There we go,” he said as he breached the ceiling of the cave. Fake climbed down, followed by the soil Andin had excavated.
Fake nodded impressed, “Where better to hide the dirt than in the cave.” Andin jumped in leaving a small cap of grass over the entrance.
“These look familiar,” said Fake hovering over a glowing mushroom.
“Interesting,” added Andin.
“Well you were right about the stream.”
“Let’s head towards the portal site,” pointed Andin.
Every few hundred feet the cave would intersect with another branch, Andin marked their path with stones. They both saw them at the same time and stopped cold. “Andin,” said Fake.
“I see them,” answered Andin.”
“Are we where I think we are?” asked the illusionist.
“Right beneath the portal.”
Fake knelt over the discolored mushrooms. His sand formed a blade and he harvested a sample of the normal and the discolored fungi. “Can we trust Traufo?” asked Fake.
Andin nodded, “If you can get those out of this plane and to him, I’m sure he can check if they are the same as the ones we saw in his cave.”
Fake smiled, “I’ll have them out tonight.”
“You’ll miss your show,” said Andin.
The prince knew Fake wouldn’t have enough time to conceal himself, get all the way through the portal to the docks, and back before the festival started. Fake opted to not explain what he said and gave the fire prince his signature mischievous grin this time adding a wink. “Don’t wink at me,” said Andin feeling violated.
There wasn’t time to investigate the rest of the cave; the boys headed back to the entrance. They made it back as the festival was starting. The entertainers launched rockets of water filled with light magic to mark the occasion.
Kegs of ale were tapped, the rum flowed freely, and much merriment was shared. The entertainers filled the festival with their songs and jokes. Fake dazzled the audience with a host of fantastic creatures and caricatures of the Brothers.
Andin suspected his friend had been bringing more and more of the black sand with him; it wasn’t until one of Fake’s monsters grew over twenty feet tall that he realized how much. Fake had become much stronger.
Andin cheered and clapped as his friend took his final bow. Gunrow leaned over and told Andin how impressed he was. Andin laughed, “Trust me, he loved every second of it.”
Fake rejoined the group bringing with him a tray full of beer and set it down at their table. They raised their glasses as Fake toasted, “To good friends and good ale.”
“Here here,” they echoed.
“To Commodore Gunrow,” said Dohm, thrilled at the chance to properly celebrate Gunrow’s retirement.
“The mushrooms made it on the last courier ship out this evening,” said Fake proudly.
“I watched you the entire time; you never left,” said Andin suspiciously.
“No faith in me, eh?”
“You know I’m going to figure it out.”
Fake pat Andin on the back condescendingly, “Sure you will.”