《The Students of the White Tower Academy》 Franklin Guerrero - 00 Franklin Guerrero¡¯s first memory was seared into his mind by terror and false hope. He didn''t remember the office, though he knew it was his father''s. He was standing before a fine desk with his two younger sisters. They were all lined up shoulder to shoulder, looking at their father. Even at this young age, he was almost a perfect mirror of the man. While both had black hair, grey-green eyes, and thin lips, the young Franklin¡¯s hair was grown to his shoulders while his father kept his short. His sisters reflected their mother, not even allowing a hint of the man before them to be seen. But in this moment, all six of their young eyes held his reflection, and the cold, chilling stare he gave them seeped into their bones. They didn''t know why they were called to his office, nor why their usually warm father was furrowing his brows at them, a thin frown pulling his lips. He let loose a dissatisfied tut before running a hand through his hair. Renaldo Guerrero finally spoke, breaking the long silence that enveloped the room. Yet his words did nothing to break the chill. ¡°Worthless,¡± he muttered, before speaking aloud to them. ¡°I knew you all left me wanting, but I would have never imagined that you are nothing more than little disappointments.'''' His words confused them, but none of them dared to speak. So the head of the family continued. ¡°Well, I guess I can find some use for some of you.¡± He looked between the two girls before eyeing his fourth son. He shook his head. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Franklin¡¯s heart fell. It would have been lost on the carpeted floor of his father''s office were it not for the rich oakwood door being shoved open with a loud thud as it opened with enough force to damage the frame. ¡°Renaldo Guerrero!¡± a voice hissed with malice and dangerous warnings. A woman entered the room like a hurricane. She stared at her husband with fire in her green eyes while her burning red hair whirled around behind her. She wore an open light blue dress, one not of the kingdom, allowing everyone to see much of her bronzed skin. Even in her burning rage, she held a certain allure that no man could ignore. She was the hope that warmed the young boy''s dying heart, the pride of his life, and the hero of his soul. Yet, this was not a happy memory. A sharp sound echoed through the room, turning their mother¡¯s face when she stood between her children and her husband. ¡°How dare you shamelessly stroll in here after what you did!¡± he softly shouted. She held a hand to her cheek, a soft smile forming on her lips, something scarier than a face full of rage. ¡°Children, why don''t you return to your rooms for now,¡± she said so warmly that the air stood still. The young kids needed no further prompting. They hastened to their rooms as their mother turned to face her husband, whose eyes sharpened. Their words could be heard in the hallway even after the heavy door was closed. Sheila Rowe - 00 Crumpled to the ground, a young girl with pale skin and short, cut auburn hair was on her knees, her tiny body shivering as the laughter of three boys surrounded her. They stood proudly over the trembling girl, their shadows cast long in the afternoon sun. The leader of the group, a boy with a mop of unruly brown hair and dull brown-grey eyes, looked down at her with disdain. ¡°You¡¯re pathetic,¡± he laughed, his voice high-pitched but dripping with contempt. ¡°This is the thing I¡¯m supposed to marry?¡± He scoffed as he kicked dirt in her direction, the small clouds scattering over her torn dress. ¡°How unassuming,¡± another boy chimed in, his voice filled with mockery. He had dark hair and a sneer that seemed permanently etched onto his face. ¡°I can¡¯t believe your old man thought there might be some worth to her.¡± The third boy, slightly taller with a tuft of unevenly cut red hair, shrugged nonchalantly. ¡°Uncle just wants more workers for the farm,¡± he said indifferently. ¡°She¡¯s nothing more than another cow of a different type.¡± The young girl shivered before her aggressors. The boys had always insulted her, but this time it felt different. There was a fire behind the leader''s eyes, an anger she didn¡¯t understand. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± she spat, but the furrowing of their brows made her swallow her earlier bravery. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. The older boy scoffed, angrily kicking up another cloud of dirt. The girl quickly covered her eyes as sand found its way inside. ¡°You dumb bitch, your old dirt bag of a father convinced the old man that you have enough value to join the family. Congratulations, bitch.¡± He spat down at her, his anger uncontainable. ¡°What are you¡ª¡± but he cut her off, reaching down and grabbing her arm. ¡°Get up,¡± he ordered, yanking her to her feet. ¡°You might be my cousin, but you''re not worth our blood. My dad might have a soft spot for your old man, but you are not any family of mine, understand?¡± He didn¡¯t wait for an answer. ¡°Good. Now we know you are nothing, but I need to hear you say it,¡± he demanded. When she hesitated, he squeezed harder. Her cry of pain only made the others laugh. ¡°Y-yes,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m nothing. I¡¯m nothing,¡± she quickly agreed. The boy smiled, satisfied. ¡°Good,¡± he said, releasing her by pushing her back down into the dirt. ¡°Our fathers might be in charge right now, but it¡¯s better you know your place. Remember this,¡± he said coldly. ¡°You belong to me. You do as I say, and maybe, just maybe, I won¡¯t make your life a living hell.¡± Satisfied, he turned and left, his gang quickly following. The young girl shivered, hugging herself in fear. ¡°What just happened?¡± she cried softly. She didn¡¯t understand. How could she? She was just a young girl of five, living in a remote village on the edge of the kingdom. Betsy Cain - 00 Reskric Village was a beautiful place situated over an abandoned iron mine. Once a city of influence, it dwindled away after the iron well dried up. People left gradually, but some stayed, making a living off the land with what little farming they could manage. The only crop Reskric could produce was squash, and though there were three types, the plants thrived in the heat. It was a calm, idyllic village, and it was incredibly ¡°boring.¡± The childlike cry of a young girl pierced the air as she watched the lazy village from her super-secret mountain hideout. The girl, with her curling blonde hair, sighed into her hands. ¡°Nothing happens,¡± she complained again. As the only child in the village, she had little to do but her chores, which were repetitive and boring. A melancholic sigh escaped her lips. She stood up, gave one last look at the dry, dull brown land of her home, and retreated back into her hideout, making her way home. Even the grappling and climbing in the mountains had become dull over the years. After eight years of nothing but work and play, she returned to the village, sensing a different air about it. Excitement cracked like electricity. The villagers were rushing around, something these old individuals had never done before. ¡°Betsy!¡± an elderly woman, adorned with too much old jewelry, called out to her. ¡°Great news,¡± she said with a smile. ¡°The Johnson couple are going to have a baby!¡± she cheered with excitement. ¡°A baby?¡± Betsy repeated. ¡°Yes!¡± the old woman exclaimed. ¡°We''re going to have another young one soon!¡± For a while, Betsy shared their excitement, but then it faded as the months passed. ¡°What''s so special about a child?¡± she wondered, sighing again. It seemed to take forever for the baby to arrive. Three months had passed, and the baby was still not due any time soon. All that changed was that the Johnson house received special treatment. His wife, a woman named Jennie, no longer needed to work, and the man himself, Johnson, lazed around the house all day. Yet Betsy was still expected to work, and her chores even increased. It was all terribly unfair. Not only that but now the old bat Margrite was ¡®teaching¡¯ her how to manage a house. It was the same work her mother did, and Betsy didn''t want to learn that. It was boring. Everything was just so boring. She wanted to leave. She hated it here. She always had. She wanted to be somewhere else, but what else was there? The adults didn''t seem to care for her like they used to. It took six more months for the baby to be born, and Betsy learned why everyone was acting differently. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°I knew it!¡± Mr. Johnson exclaimed after the baby was born. It was a disgusting event, with a lot of crying, screaming, and blood. Betsy was fascinated by it. After all, it was the first interesting thing to happen in the village in years. ¡°Cool,¡± she commented. Maybe she could be a doctor. The people respected the man who arrived for the birth, and he was wealthy. He didn''t accept a handful of Geld for the job but rather six silver Dons. These silver coins were hard to come by. You needed a few hundred Geld to get a single Don. A doctor¡­ Now that was interesting. Certainly better than a farmer, blacksmith, or¡­ Well, being a doctor was really the only job that seemed somewhat interesting. Doctor¡­ ¡°It''s a boy!¡± The celebration snapped young Betsy out of her thoughts. Everyone was celebrating the birth. The whole village was practically there. The rest were outside the building. The doctor had ensured only family could witness the birth, but it didn¡¯t answer Betsy¡¯s question about why she was there. After a moment of talking, Mr. Johnson took Betsy by the arm and led her to Mrs. Johnson, who had been holding the baby for a while. ¡°All right, little Betsy. Meet your future husband,¡± he said, confusing the girl. ¡°Jen and I have decided to name him Darrick after her father. What do you think of that?¡± Betsy could only look at him, confused. ¡°Darrick is a¡­ fine name?¡± she questioned, unsure of what they wanted. ¡°But what do you mean, husband?¡± she asked. The couple smiled. ¡°Well,¡± Mrs. Johnson said as she played with the little boy. ¡°You and our little Darrick¡ªyes, that¡¯s right, hello, little Darrick.¡± ¡°Your parents and I decided to do what was natural,¡± Mr. Johnson said as his wife got distracted. ¡°After all, you are the only children in the village, and we need to ensure the legacy.¡± ¡°What!?¡± A chill gripped the little girl¡¯s heart. Marry a baby? But she couldn''t. No, she didn''t care about a legacy or whatever. The village was already dead. She just wanted to leave---needed to leave. Meanwhile, Mr. Johnson poked her on the nose with a smile. ¡°Little Darrick and Betsy, what a fine family we will make,¡± he offered lovingly, turning to look at his own baby again with a warm smile. Betsy looked at everyone in the room. They were all crazy. They had to be. No one seemed to be out of it, so she ran. Outside the room, she was bombarded with questions. She struggled to escape and found herself outside, only to be confronted by the rest of the village. She managed to escape, even ignoring her own parents'' cries for her. She couldn¡¯t stay there. Her heart wouldn¡¯t allow it. She ran. She ran so far away. She just ran. It seemed she could continue all night and day. Yet she couldn''t get away. She ended up in her secret hideout once again. Curled up in a small corner. If only she could run. But where would she go? This village was her world. She knew about the outside from the merchants and other travelers, all of whom were surprised the village still existed. They wouldn''t take her. She could ask the doctor, but it would be the same. She was stuck here. Destined to die as another miserable housewife. Tears streamed down her face. She was never so miserable as she when the entirety of the Reskric village celebrated. Carmen Daniel (Cam) & Aubrey Russo (Abee) - 00 Snow fell like ashes as a girl hugged her mother in the street. The woman was colder than the snow, but the young child couldn''t feel it. She couldn''t feel anything, numbed by the cold and the exhaustion of begging her mother to keep moving. She was too weak to drag her any further. An old man found this scene. A child, no older than three, bundled tightly in a worn leather coat meant for a man. Her dark hair fell over the woman lying in the street, her dress scant and inappropriate for the chill of the winter that froze even the city''s largest lake. The man took his hat from his head and held it over his heart as he prayed to his lord silently. Finishing, he knelt by their side. ¡°Amen.¡± His voice cut through the cold night as he placed the hat back on his head. He confirmed his feeling when he touched the woman''s face. The cold bit against his skin as if the dead took offense to the living. ¡°May you rest in the land of your lord and enjoy a field of their bounty.¡± Now came the difficult part. He looked over at the young girl shivering against her mother''s corpse. He laid a hand over her back and could feel her dying warmth through the jacket. ¡°Poor child,¡± he said, offering an apology before he wrapped his hands around her and pulled her from the ground. She looked around, confused. Then, as if remembering something, she struggled, her soft eyes locking on her mother. She struggled harder. ¡°Mama!¡± she cooed, pain echoing in the soul of her voice. ¡°Let me go!¡± she demanded. ¡°Mama!¡± But the man didn''t listen; instead, he silently carried her away. Even as her shouts drew the attention of passersby, it did little to aid her. ¡°Father?¡± a question cut into the air. The man looked at its caller and nodded in recognition. ¡°Sir James. I am sorry, but can you assist me?¡± The man, Sir James, flicked his grey eyes between the girl and the priest. ¡°Of course, Father, I am ever in the service of the church,¡± yet he held suspicion in his gaze. Though it might be seen as more of a curious gaze, the father knew better and understood. The hour was late, and here he was, carrying a struggling child in the dark, although she seemed to quiet down a bit now. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. ¡°Down the way, in the third alley - the one where Paul sells his oils, there is a young woman who¡­ didn''t make it.¡± ¡°Ah¡­ I see. And this one?¡± ¡°The mother gave her a coat, seemed the only thing they had between them,¡± he answered. James nodded, then sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll get Scab to recover the body,¡± he said, turning to leave. ¡°Thank you, Sir James,¡± the father called after him. And with that, they both parted ways. Soon enough, the priest reached the church, crossing the garden to a large building behind the tall one with the mark of B?eut carved into the stone for all to see. The other building was bigger, though poorly kept. Still, it would do better than a night on the streets of Nalthus, especially this time of year. The father entered the old orphanage. It was old wood, but cared for by the children who resided there, and as it was more busy work than anything else, it was well kept. The floor was stone, and there were some old furs and carpets donated by nobles who gained something better to replace them. There was one fur over the wooden wall that looked relatively new, a gift graciously given because High Leivon fur was out of season. Yet it kept the heat in and was welcome. There was a fire in the entryway, one of four that kept the building warm enough to scare away the chill of death. It was here that the father placed her, in front of the fire, to warm her bones and hopefully heal a little bit of her soul. The father watched her for a bit, and when he was sure she wouldn¡¯t try to run away, he retreated further into the orphanage. The girl stared into the flames. The heat was burning her, annoyingly so, as moments ago she was begging for its warmth. If only sooner, then¡­ but it was¡­ she shook her head and held onto the coat she wore with both hands. If only she had paid attention to where that old man was taking her, she might have been able to run back to her mother''s side. But she didn¡¯t know where she was, and worse yet, she was afraid. She hugged herself, her head resting on her knees. It wasn¡¯t until much later that she noticed the other boy that sat beside her. He wore simple clothes, had messy brown hair, and stared at her curiously with lemon yellow eyes. For a moment, they looked at each other, then she turned back to the fire. For a while, they both watched the fire burn until the father returned. Franklin Guerrero - 01 Franklin woke with a heavy sigh, fatigue clinging to him like a second skin. Three days on the road had worn him thin, the relentless pace driven by the urgency to meet his father''s expectations. At ten years old, no one would think that young Franklin was the Guerrero Merchant Company¡¯s most valuable asset. Yet, despite how much he contributed to GMC, he still had to rush all over the kingdom like a loyal dog. Because of this, he had to rent a cheap hotel just outside the city. Well, "had to" was a subjective term. After all, his carriage was comfortable enough, perhaps more so than the hotel''s wooden bed. However, after spending days resting in a small, cramped space, he was looking forward to being able to walk more than two steps. The room was modest but tidy, the wooden floors worn smooth by countless travelers. Unpainted walls gave it a rustic charm, and the single bed by the window promised a good nights sleep even if the bed in the carriage was far better. Despite the crick in his neck, it was a well-made purchase. Being able to stretch fully while standing was worth its weight in gold. He lifted his tired body from the wooden frame and did just that. Then, with a soft clicking of his lips, he rubbed the last of the sleep from his muted aquamarine eyes. Flicking off the last of the dust to the floor, he took a deep breath of the fresh morning air that seeped through the open window. With that, he left the room and gave a nod to the young proprietress who was resting on the counter. She gave him a tired nod as he left and was greeted by a sellsword. ¡°Morning, young master.¡± the gruff man stated with a smile that didn''t match his appearance. Despite being the head of the three-man guard Franklin had hired for this trip, he was dressed in a simple linen shirt and pants. We¡¯re almost ready here. Should be inside the walls before the sun breaks over them.¡± Franklin nodded, his face betraying a flicker of relief. ¡°Good, thanks, Sergo.¡± Sergo grinned, a far cry from the desperate man Franklin had stumbled upon two years ago. With the financial might of the Guerrero Merchant Company, Franklin had orchestrated Sergo¡¯s rescue, saving his beloved from being sold from her father and forced to marry a wealthy man. Debt paid, girl married, loyalty earned. Respect gained. Since then, he and Sergo have been inseparable. And not just because Sergo was a talented swordsman. ¡°Good morning, Frankie!¡± A call turned both of their heads to see a beautiful woman with silver-blue hair and golden-blue eyes. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°Good morning, Varinia,¡± Franklin called with a smile as Sergo swung an arm around her and pulled his wife into his embrace. She clasped a hand on the one over her shoulder and continued, ¡°I¡¯ve got breakfast ready.¡± True to her words, she held a basket in her hand. It was a few loaves of bread and some cooked sausage, but even if it was standard road food, it was enhanced by Varinia¡¯s skilled hand. Franklin could already taste it on his tongue, and his mouth watered in anticipation. ¡°Looks good,¡± he admitted. ¡°Thanks, Varinia.¡± She was the gift that kept on giving. Franklin didn''t even consider her a factor when he helped Sergo, yet she was more valuable to him than the man. Even then, she made him reevaluate himself and how he judged others, allowing him to grow as a merchant. Suddenly, Franklin felt a delicate hand running through his hair. He found Varinia had broken from her husband''s grip and was now ruffling his head. ¡°Wow, you¡¯re growing into quite the handsome young man.¡± Sergo wrapped his arms around her from behind, chuckling. ¡°You''re already spoken for,¡± Varinia giggled, patting her husband¡¯s cheek. She handed Franklin the basket. ¡°Never mind my jealous fool. So, do you know what you want for your birthday?¡± she asked. The work around them stopped. Franklin cast a side eye at the other two guards and although they pretended to work they couldn''t hide their interest. Franklin took the basket of food and thought about it. A year ago, his wish was the same as always. He wanted his mother back. It had been four years since she disappeared. That last memory of her haunted him in his dreams. But that had more to do with his father than her. Isolde and Anathea were getting older, and the old man made no attempt to hide his contempt for them or his plans. He needed to be stronger to protect them. Just a little more, and he would be able to break free from the GMC. He smiled. ¡°This deal will be enough of a gift for me,¡± he said. It wasn¡¯t anything groundbreaking, but if it all went well, then he wouldn¡¯t have to worry about the company again. Instead, he would be running it. ¡°Okay!¡± he called loudly. ¡°This is nice and everything but we must move fast, the meeting with Count Fisch is in a few hours, we mustn''t be late!¡± he stated and the men got back to work. Sergo gave his wife a kiss as he left to retrieve his horse while Varinia offered Franklin a hand. ¡°Well then, my lord, shall I escort you inside?¡± she teased, offering her hand with a playful wink. Franklin grinned, grasping it firmly, feeling her warmth. ¡°How very chivalrous of you.¡± he commented. ¡°Your wife could learn a lot from you.¡± His joke earned a grunt from Sergo as he pulled three horses from the run down stable. ¡°Inspection is finished,¡± another voice called and Franklin turned to find one of Sergo¡¯s men. ¡°Carriage is good and we are all set to leave.¡± ¡°Thank you, Harris.¡± Franklin called and he boarded with help from Varinia, as he was a little too short to reverse the dynamic, a thought that reddened his ears as the girl helped him inside. Franklin Guerrero 02 The city of Nalthus was magnificent. Even the well-maintained cobbled roads that branched out from it were filled with carriages. While most were cargo carriers, a few passenger carts could be spotted here and there. The gray-green walls of the port city were impressive, carved for decoration rather than defense. Walking the entirety of the wall would be an endless exhibit of art, featuring delicate stonework and proud iron crafting. The city''s walls were designed to keep creatures at bay, for the port city was built on water. Safely nestled into the heart of the kingdom, the only threat lay in the sea. The city was alive with the sounds of men, women, and children living their best lives, competing with the constant murmur of the sea. The heavily salted air assaulted the nose but mingled with the enticing aromas of cooked and freshly caught food, creating a unique, pleasant blend. Beyond the massive entryway gate, the main road led directly to the iron wharf¡ªa marvel of human engineering. Originally constructed of heavy iron, the wharf spanned the entirety of Nalthus Cove. Though now primarily made of concrete, it used to be a sight of pure pale blue iron. Nalthus was built in Nalthus Cove shortly after the Sovereignty War, as a display to outdo the dwarven race. Metal and saltwater do not mix, yet humanity persevered, and soon enough, a large iron dock capable of handling three large ships was crafted. The humans invited the dwarves to show off their achievement, a display meant to mock. When the dwarven delegation arrived, they found the dock had turned blue. The dwarves, in turn, mocked them for using copper when they claimed it was iron, but the humans insisted it was iron. Eventually, it was discovered that in the process of making the iron seaworthy and rust-free, an unusual reaction had occurred. A dwarf discovered this quite easily and even expanded upon it, showcasing that the blue patina was a protective layer of sorts that naturally accrued in the new metal alloy when exposed to saltwater. Soon enough, the initial mockery turned into a collaborative effort. Humans and dwarves worked together to create Seametal, a process lost to time as concrete was soon invented and proved easier to use and make than Seametal. Still, this monument to the city was covered by massive warehouses that could be seen from anywhere in the city, far too many to count even on a slow trip to their meeting. It was a parallel trip to the Fugu Estate, riding along the road all the way, showing just how much the city was dedicated to the port. Ships, in the hundreds, could be seen lazily drifting in the waters while what seemed to be thousands of men moved quickly to take the cargo. As they moved, the sounds died down, the pace slowed, and soon enough only the sound of the sea could be heard. It was at this moment they reached the ivory black gate of the Fugu Estate. With a brief interaction with the guard, they were allowed inside, and soon enough, Franklin was finally leaving the carriage, looking up to find a red-bricked manor before him. The two-story place was quite modest, even if it was rather large, but Franklin had dealt with far prouder people before. This made the manor seem quite humble to him, and he nodded at the old architecture, satisfied that the count must be a man who understood value. Stolen story; please report. ¡°You must be from the Guerrero Company,¡± a voice called out to them. Franklin looked around to see an elderly man dressed in a finely kept suit greeting them. ¡°I am Will Barnes, the steward of the estate,¡± he continued as he eyed the group, finally nodding to Sergo. ¡°I trust the trip was well, young master Guerrero?¡± Sergo smiled. ¡°Now that''s another five gelds for me,¡± he chuckled. Franklin tutted as Will Barnes raised an eyebrow. Meanwhile, Varina chuckled softly. Fishing in his pockets, Franklin pulled out a handful of geld coins and shoved them into Sergo¡¯s waiting hands. ¡°It''s quite rude to address someone else with the Guerreros'' name,¡± he spat angrily. ¡°Should I take this insult to mean that Count Fisch doesn''t desire to conduct trade with the Guerrero Merchant Company?¡± It was a useless threat, one made out of annoyance rather than a viable threat. Still, it had its use. Even if Will Barnes was a noble himself, he could hardly make such decisions for his master. So, empty threat or not, the steward nodded his head. ¡°I see, forgive my mistake, young Guerrero.¡± ¡®Ah, so it''s young now, huh? Well, it''s not like I don''t deserve it for losing my temper,¡¯ he thought, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°It matters little. Please lead the way inside,¡± he offered. Without care, the steward turned around and silently led them to the parlor. It was a well-dressed room; opposite the door was a warm fireplace whose crackling fire kept the room warm. To the left was a massive window showcasing the entryway to the port, ships entering the harbor, while behind them the large breakwater held a massive tower, the gatekeeper of the massive port. Will Barnes led them ahead of this window, where there were two gray leather loveseats and one large white sofa huddled around a burnt black coffee table. ¡°If the young Guerrero would kindly take a seat on the sofa, you would enjoy the view of the harbor while you wait.¡± With a nod, Franklin did just that as the steward turned to leave, informing him that ¡°A maid will bring refreshments shortly.¡± With that, the three of them were left alone in the room. ¡°Ahh, this is comfortable,¡± Franklin commented as he sat back on the sofa. Without waiting, Sergo joined him. ¡°Shit, you''re right.¡± This comment earned the man a slap from his wife. ¡°Language!¡± she chastised him. ¡°We¡¯re in a count''s home.¡± She looked around with wide eyes, taking everything in before skipping to the window and watching the ships pass, her mouth releasing sounds of wonder. Sergo watched his wife with a warm smile. A few moments later, there was a knock on the door, and it opened to reveal a trolley filled with a tea set and a maid following behind it. ¡°A push trolley?¡± Franklin whispered, impressed. ¡°Well, that''s to be expected with the port city.¡± Rare tools were probably easy to come by here, after all. Soon enough, the maid placed the set on the table and poured four cups of tea. ¡°Is there anything else?¡± she asked. Franklin shook his head. ¡°It''s okay.¡± With that, they were left alone to enjoy the tea and watch the ships sail by.