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A hint of sea salt seasoned the air as it caressed the spring trees. The early sun began its ascent to the zenith of the sky. Shrieking seagulls floated on the breeze.
All of these sensations could be heard from Agro's home ontop of the northern Terra Cliffs. It was a simple, dilapidating Tudor house that guarded these high cliffs; its roof was peppered with stones to block out the holes left by years of wear, the shudders for the windows creaked under the breeze and seagulls have made their nests in the eavestroughs. Despite its flaws, it was Argo's humble castle. He had learned what rocks to use for the leaky roof, how to ignore the creaking shudders while asleep and the seagulls provided eggs for him to cook for breakfast.
It was not a matter of neglect that let his house become worn from the elements, no, it was the lack of money. Argo Sato II, a young fourteen year old boy, is the soul occupant of this shanty home. His career as a fisherman only allowed him to get enough money for him to pay off his taxes and to obtain a little bit of food. He had lived this way for the past two years, but quickly became accustomed to the grind. He had to, he had no one else to rely on for financial support.
Before setting off, he grabbed his fishing rod, lures, netting, his rain cloak and cloggs and a bouquet of flowers that were kept in a small vase on his kitchen table. Gently closing the door behind him, he walked over to the edge of the cliffs where a small mound laid. A simple cross of driftwood stood alone on a mound of grassy earth.
Gingerly, he knealed down and placed the bouquet at the cross' feet. "Happy birthday, Mother. I hope you like your flowers."
Argo's mother, Ariel, passed away two years prior from today. She had caught pneumonia after she went off to dive for pearls near the southern Firma Clifftops. Argo was only twelve when this catastrophe happened. She was the only family that he had known throughout his life.
"I'm heading down to the habour early today, Mother. I was hoping to catch a lively spot before the other fisherman come by. I might go as far out as the merchant ships before they go their separate ways. Don't worry about me too much, Mom. I'll be fine."
Fishing rod in hand, he went to work.

Meridianna was a prosperous fishing town settled on a beach, flanked by two jutting cliffs. Most of the bulk of the town was nestled near the lakeshore, where the bazaars were bustling with goods and food from the bounty of the sea. The ports and piers of Meridianna were thronged with caravels and merchant ships that brought goods from the Old World and the New World. Standing watch over the town was an ostentatious castle on the Firma Cliffs, a reminder to everyone that the New World town of Meridianna was still ruled by the traditions of the Old World.
Despite the towns economic standards, Meridianna remained a gorgeous feature of natural beauty. Its white sand beaches glistened against the sparkling azure sea. Below these prestine waters, schools of fish, reefs of coral and all the colours that one can think of danced on the surface. Palm trees hanged their shaggy heads, moving to the flow of the wind. The walls of the cliffs were coloured by generations of seaweed and the natural auburns of the earth. Inland, the wild forests of the New World remain unscathed by man, until they desire their resources once more.
The harbourfront dwarved the coastline with a laybrinth of piers, docks, fish markets, boat workshops crawling with sailors, fishermen, merchants and customers. The scents of fish and salt water wafted in the air, accompanied by the soft crash of the waves on the shoreline.
Navigating through these markets was second nature to Argo. He is able to slither in and out through crowds and can navigate through alleyways without losing a sweat. He reached his destination, a large fish merchant's shop with stalls stacked with every kind of fish imaginable. Seagulls perched on the store's rooftop, while stray cats occupy its corners, awaiting for any stray food that the fish monger may throw away. Inside, Argo could hear his boss cutting off fish heads with his large cleaver, each slice thudded onto the cutting board, making an unusual beat.
"Good morning, Mr. Herringson," beamed Argo, waving his hand.
"Good morning to ya, Argo," replied Mr. Herringson, slicing of a fish head. He was a hulking, middle aged man with scars and muscles earned from his hard life as a sailor. Now he's a fish monger who hires fishermen to catch any kind of bounty from the sea for him to sell. Herringson saw Argo's talent for diving and fishing for seafood before his mother passed away. Without a moment's hesitation, he hired Argo as one of his top catchers. "You're up ealry. Trying to catch the best spot, are ya?"
"Yep. Is there anything you need for me to catch today?"
"Aye, there's a shortage of marlins and other big fish, so I need ya to go fishing in the deeper waters today."
"Alright, then. I'll take one of your dinghies and be off."
"Make sure ya bring in a good haul today. I've been thinking of buying myself a dog. There's too many bloody cats around my store! My God! They're breeding like rabbits!"

Aboard his dinghy, Argo paddled his way into the depths of the gulf. Bellowing over the sound of his strokes was the bells on the caravels that rose above him. His small dinghy was a tiny tadpole compared to the sharklike speed of a caravel. Argo watched closely as a caravel passed by, sending a tremor of waves at his boat.
~What a beautiful ship. I wonder where they're going?~ Argo thought to himself. ~If only I could get onto those wonderful things. It would be nice if I could sail to other continents and discover new lands. Besides, it's rather boring here in Meridianna. Nothing new or exciting happens, besides watching the ships come into port. Who am I kidding? It would take me a lifetime to obtain enough gold for a ship like that, not to mention that I don't know how things work on a ship.~
Argo looked back onto the shrinking port as it bobbed up and down. Behind him was a beautiful sunrise basking in gold, violet, rose and crimson. Only a line of clouds dared to peek over the horizon.
"Well, time to get to work!"
Tacklebox in hand, he fastened his hook to the line and stabbed a worm onto the hook. Argo never liked to do such a cruel thing to such a small creature, but his job acquired him to resort to such actions. His makeshift rod cast out its line into the sea in a splendid throw. Knowing that it will take some time for a bite, Argo wedged his pole between his seat and the hull.
Lying back, he took his raincoat and pulled it over his head like a cover.His mind adrift, Argo felt the soft rocking of the sea putting him to sleep.
~It's been almost two years since Mother has passed away. I wonder if she met up with Father in Heaven? Probably. I wonder if she's doing alright? Well, it is Heaven after all. I wonder if she's watching over me right now? I hope not. Maybe Dad is watching, too. Father . . . I wish that I could of met you, way back when. I wonder . . . what you . . . were like . . .~