“Harbormaster! So good to see you,” Arve’s voice dripped with that extra sarcasm he piled into his words. Arve couldn’t stand this man, but he was the only harbormaster who would give him what he wanted for a decent price. And by a decent price, he meant almost dying for a silly old thing in a dusty box, nearly forgotten.

“Come back in six minutes. I can’t stand you.”

“Yeah, I’m not a fan of you either,” Arve shot back, unbothered by the comment. “I am here because I went fishing for another one of your glorified jewelry boxes. What's even in these things?” Arve held up the molded wood box, looking at it curiously. He shook it a few times, only to hear a concerning rattling, as if it had broken upon delivery. Finn had to give the kid props for not even taking a peek before turning it over.

“It's a mystical potion called none of your business,” Johna shot back. The old man seemed more and more like a child when talking to the kid. Arve seemed to draw out a person’s inner child when he spoke. He’d done it on the boat with Finn, and he was doing it now, with Johna.

“Is it magical enough to fix that bloated ego of yours?”

“Why, you mouthy twerp!” Johna growled, “You better get out of here before someone tells mommy and daddy that their son is making an illegal deal.” The harbormaster had threatened something that even Arve feared.

“How mature,” Arve commented, dropping the wooden box onto the harbormasters desk with a thud. Dust flew, and the man behind the desk looked even more irritated than before. Arve was trying to keep himself under control. The comment about his parents made him want to justifiably jump into a rage. The harbormaster looked back down at the paper he was writing on and pretended not to notice the box.

“You’re one to talk,” The harbormaster, Johna, snarled back.

Johna appeared older, with the worry lines seeping into his forehead and around the indents of his sunken eyes. The frown he wore was natural when Arve was around. Johna wore old-fashioned clothing of the Carnil empire, to show his status as the harbormaster. His status was all he had though, since he was now able to hire and assign dockmasters to handle all of the outside work. As a man nearing his elderly years, he didn’t do much outside work.

“I have as much a right to make the trade as he does, so give me the money and the sundial.” Arve threw his fists down on the wooden box, and Johna’s lips twitched in irritation.

“If you ever come here again as anyone but Arven, I will never give you another job in your sorry little life, got it?”

“Sure, whatever.” Arve snatched the money out of the harbormasters hands so quickly that it reminded Finn this kid was probably poor and hungry, just like him. The harbormaster stood up from his desk chair feebly, and set down his feathered pen. He retrieved a leather sack from his desk draw, and handed it over to Arve.

“There is a job on the board too. I’m telling you because I don’t want you to take it. It's too dangerous. Not just for you, but for her. Stay away from it.” John warned Arve with a stern voice, but Arve wasn’t listening. He was examining the long awaited sundial. The very thing he’d worked so hard to get. It was small enough to fit around his neck, and the chain hanging from it gave him that exact idea.

“Say, what time is it?”

“A minute to noon. Get out of here.” Johna didn’t sound mean, or rude when he said that. It was more of advice. In that light, Johna almost seemed like a father figure to Arve, but would never outright admit it. Finn stood in the doorway the entire time, unsure of what to do with himself. Finn didn’t know Arve enough to trust him, and he certainly couldn’t trust Arve's judgement.

Arve snickered, and then sprinted out the door. He nearly knocked Finn down on the way out. Finn took a cautious glance at the harbormaster.

“He must trust you. Never seen him with anyone before.” Johna’s voice was weary and drawn out as he sat back at his desk. Johna looked up and down Finn, searching perhaps, for what made him different. Finn had to wonder the same thing. Was there a reason he was sticking around? He could get a ride to Cape Rillite from anyone if he wanted to work for it. As long as no one found out he was cursed.

Finn didn’t say anything as he walked out and closed the shed door behind him.

The next thing that happened was something Finn could have never imagined. A man walked up to him, with long black hair, blue eyes, and a calm smile. The man was younger than him, but not a kid either. Finn also noticed that this man was wearing the same clothes Arve was a moment ago.

“Let’s check out this job, I’m interested in seeing what it is.” The man gestured toward the direction of where the mercenary board would be and Finn looked around to see who he was talking to. When it was clear that the only person the man could have spoken to was him, Finn leaned in and squinted his eyes.

“Do I know you?”

“It’s me, Arve. Well, actually it’s Arven now.” Arven said, pointing at himself calmly. Arven was used to this. It’d take a moment to readjust, but then he’d remember everything that happened when he was Arve, and make sense of what had happened and what he was about to do.

Finn stared, like Arven expected. Finn oozed confusion.li

“To be honest, I don’t remember all of the details quite yet. It will take a few minutes for all of my memories to come into focus.” Arven rubbed the back of his neck nervously as they headed toward the job board. Things started to make sense. Why the boy helped him, why he had dragged him along with him, and why Arve had been so interested in his supposed curse.

“Are you,” Finn had to take a steadying breath before continuing, “Are you Cursed?”

People that had been bustling around the docks moments earlier went start still. Arven cursed under his breath. Of course this man didn’t know how Carnillian people reacted to that word. Only new world people, like the old harbormaster, were understanding of those things. Arve laughed as loud as he could, slapping Finn on the back. The people saw this as a joke, and moved on with their lives.

“You should know better.” Arven hissed as he climbed the stairs that lead up off the docks and onto the main land. Carnil was a kingdom that opened to the sea in the east, and everywhere else was entrapped by mountains. The capital city was found more inland, but the coastal city was good enough for a quick stop and refuel. Arven had nearly forgotten the feel of land since he had been at sea for so long.

“So you are, cursed, I mean?” Finn asked in a hushed voice and followed quickly behind Arven. There was no reluctance in his step now. Finn followed Arven up the stairs and into the coastal city, toward a tall job board with wanted posters and commission jobs on it.

“Yes, and as far as my memory tells me, so are you.”

“Well your curse doesn’t seem as dangerous as mine.”

Arven stopped short of the job board which caused Finn to bump into him from behind. Arven looked back at him, and started laughing. It wasn’t like the borderline crazy laugh that Arve sported though. It was grown up and far less scary.

“Obviously you haven’t known Arve for too long, huh? Once, he dressed up an ostrich egg to appear as a dragon egg, and then tried to trade it with a Daculian tribesman.” Arven’s explanation only made Finn more confused until he remembered that Daculians held dragons akin to gods. What a mess that would have been to trade a fake god to a holy tribe. 

Arven grabbed a page from the cork board. The page was made of paper that was obviously processed overseas and brought here on one of the many import ships at the docks. The paper was grimy and salted from being exposed to the Northern Yellow Sea.

The writing was printed with an old printing press, and the title read:

DANGEROUS DRAGON - KILL FOR COMMISSION

The title was easily unsettling, and Arven stared at the page. He’d never known any dragon to harbor any kind of violence toward humans. Even the ones that were constantly hunted down were often friendly to humans. That was why it was illegal to kill them in the first place.

In the small print at the bottom of the page, it said something about the dragon kidnapping a young girl. A young girl who happened to be the princess of The Kingdom of Carnil.

“So is this the job that Harbormaster literally just told you not to take?” Finn butted in to Arven’s train of thought. Finn had read the flyer from over Arven's shoulder, and looked around at all the people also staring at the board. It seemed that everyone else had been ignoring the page with the missing princess on it.

“I guess. Something doesn’t seem quite right. So I’m going to go take a look.”

“Wait, you mean up in the mountains? With dragons? Are you crazy?” Finn followed after Arven who was already headed back to the docks for his things. Finn was not a scared man, in fact, he loved to stir up trouble. Finn loved the thrill of a good fight, but the harbormaster’s warning was clear in his head.

“There is plenty of other jobs-”

“You don’t have to come,” Arven grunted, folding the page up to fit into his pocket. “Any number of sailors would be happy to take you to Cape Rilitte from here.”

Finn already knew that. He knew that for a little money, or a little work, any sailor would take him to Cape Rillite. Cape Rillite was popular and a huge coastal town with plenty of imports and exports. It would be no real trouble to anyone. But Finn had met another person like him. Another person who carried the burden of a curse.

“I’ll come with. But I want to know why you are taking it.” Finn asserted. He caught up to Arven in one swift strive. They walked beside each other down the wobbly wooden docks.

“I am taking it because I need money. Arve destroys everything in sight, and that costs. I’m living in debt to everyone I've ever met, and haven’t eaten in days.” Arven didn’t seem too bothered to admit this, like it had been a fact for as long as he had been alive. Arven looked out at his boat to avoid Finn’s eyes.

“That’s not it though. You said this job didn’t seem right. Why?”

“Because the princess of their kingdom was taken, and no one seems to care at all. I think that is weird.” Arven offered, and it finally dawned on Finn. No one else picked up the page from the board, and Johna had even warned Arven against taking the job. Why? In other countries, if a princess was taken, the town would be up in riots to find her, wouldn’t they?

“Why not take any of the other jobs on that board?” Finn wondered, thinking back to all of the other pages pinned to the board. A majority of them had been wanted posters for outlaws that were thought to be hiding in the mountains.

“Mercenary or not, I don’t hunt people.” Arven ended the conversation sharply.

They boarded the boat, and Arven went down into the cabin. He returned moments later with a bag and some better shoes for hiking up the sides of mountains. He threw a pair at Finn, who had to take a moment to remember that Arven hadn’t worn any shoes when he still appeared eleven.

“Arve doesn’t wear shoes unless he has to. Another annoying thing he does to bother me.”

“Isn’t he actually you though?” Finn wondered aloud. It was hard to get his mind around, so he would definitely be asking more questions.

“Twelve years ago, maybe.” Arven scoffed at the thought. He swung the messenger bag over his shoulder. The leather was worn and rotted from salty sea spray. It made Finn curious for some unknown reason. A kid, whether he was eleven or twenty three, never carried a bag that looked that old.

And with that, Arven headed toward the foot of the mountain with Finn right on his tail.