One hour later, Meremmor turned up at the country house, this time knocking politely on the door and waiting for the mercenary mages to answer.
The door flew open with a thunderclap. A flash of lightning backlighted ten men in ceremonial regalia.
Meremmor smiled and nodded, allowing himself to be suitably impressed. "You are ready, I take it?"
"We are!" answered the Songhai mercenaries gladly.
"Good. The ship I hired you to enchant is ready. Let us go."
Even in Elgovia, where the flamboyant was commonplace and every citizien emphasized his own individuality, the procession raised some eyebrows. Grandmaster Meremmor in the robes of his standing, followed by ten dark-skinned men in orange robes wearing dark green plumage.
(Silver: No idea what your mages look like, so I'm basing it on what African tribal shamans looked like IRL.)
They entered the harbor without any ceremony. Meremmor bypassed the shipwrights and headed straight for the new ship, floating gently on the harbor swells. It stood seventy feet tall and two hundred feet long. The mast lay flat on the deck with the sails and ropes neatly folded up.
"Where do you wish to place your enchantments?" Meremmor asked. "And will you need privacy?"
Toure, leader of the mages, looked at Meremmor levelly. "Find us a shipwright. We have little knowledge of such warships."
"Of course." Meremmor grabbed at the first errand-runner to pass by. "You, boy, fetch the Second Shipwright, and hurry." The boy gulped, changed course, and ran off.
"In the meantime," Meremmor muttered, drawing a phial of Trafe out of his pocket, "I suppose I have something to do." He climbed up the scaffolding to the figurehead and smashed the phial across it. "
I christen this ship Bringer of Wrath! May it turn the war in our favor once again!"
Below him, the Songhai mages were jabbering excitedly with the Second Shipwright. Meremmor went down again.
"Meremmor, your man has been most helpful. We will enchant the rudder, the keel, and the main mast."
"Very well. I'll leave you to your business, as I'm sure you know it best. Will you be finished by tomorrow?"
"I believe so. You will return us as soon as we are done. Word has reached us that the land of our fathers requires us to return."
Meremmor bowed courteously and took his leave as the mages went to work, rapidly intoning the incantations that would cause the ship to fly.
"Word of warding, speech of weather,
rain to bring and wind to blow,
earth below us, stay below us.
From desert lands to northern ice,
let our magic bind with strength,
ever shall it seek the air."
Meremmor smiled grimly as he left for the Infinity Stairwell to find mages he could train. He would choose every member of the crew himself and mold them into the perfect team. It would take a year or two to get them together, but when he was done...
