With the Seas ~ A Hetalia Fan Fiction

Chapter 23 ~ Halcyon

*Five weeks later*

It is an especially hot day when we make port in Kuáilé. There seems to be some sort of festival going on. People are bustling about in groups; vendors line the streets; red and gold paper lanterns are hanging everywhere. I hear fast-paced music coming from somewhere – the sound of exotic stringed instruments and a flute.  Excitement builds in my chest as I take in the unique and festive atmosphere.

This looks like such a fun place to live.

After Arthur sends the men off, he takes my hand, and we begin to walk toward the vendors.

“What exactly made you want to sail to the other side of the world all of a sudden?” I ask him.

“Business calls. We do a lot of trade with China, and Kuáilé is a major center of commerce. I’m just here to make sure everything is running smoothly. I’m supposed to meet the governor in an hour,” Arthur explains casually.

“Ah, I see. Until then, we can enjoy this festival, right?”

“Of course.”

“Good. This is actually perfect timing for something like this,” I smile happily.

“Perfect timing, eh?”

I pretend not to hear Arthur and quickly lead him into the throng of people. As we make our way down the streets, I see a large variety of trinkets, jewelry, clothing, and food for sale. Arthur and I buy a few random things here and there. I even manage to swipe a couple of small trinkets.

“You still have money. Why do you bother with stealing?” Arthur scolds me but laughs when I show him my prizes.

“Old habits die hard, love,” I smirk and give him a quick kiss.

“Indeed. I have to go to that meeting now. Where should I meet you later?”

“How about that food vendor over there? There’s a huge sign just above it decorated with gold flowers. It’s hard to miss.”

“All right then. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

I wave to him as he walks away then continue to explore the town. Wading my way through the endless sea of people, I spot a stall stocked with various pistols. I head toward it and discover by watching two men that the pistols are for a game. The balding man behind the stall gestures to a pistol with a smile on his face.

“Shoot all targets, win big prize,” he says in broken English.

“All right then,” I say with a big grin.

I pay the man and grab a pistol. There are five targets about five yards away. Taking aim, I pull the trigger once, twice, thrice, four times, five times. All of the bullets hit dead center. I give the stall owner a smug smile. His eyes widen in surprise. He obviously didn’t think that I would hit all of the targets.

“My prize?”

“Ah, yes, here,” he stammers and quickly goes off to the back of the stall.

When he returns, he hands me a small red silk pouch.

“Gun powder. Also smokescreen. Very useful,” he tells me.

“Oh. That’s brilliant actually,” I say in amazement as I examine the contents of the pouch.

“Made by me,” he states with pride.

“Thank you, sir.”

The man nods to me, and I go on my way.