There was also a hint of surprise and hope in her eyes. Since her 'awakening', Esdras was the first one who interacted with her. He walked forward, standing besides her and in front of the spice vendor, pretending to be interested in specially long cinnamon stick. "My name is Esdras... and you are dead." Esdras thought for a long time and could not find a better way to tell her the truth. Some truths were tougher to be told than others. The woman stepped behind. "A couple feet behind you there is a muddy puddle. Walk to it and see your own reflection."
Scared and suspicious, the woman slowly turned around, without taking her eyes from Esdras. When she finally did looked down the puddle, she gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. Then, slowly and afraid, she moved her hand towards the pole protruding from her shoulders. There was no pain, but her hand came back stained in spectral blood. She dropped to her knees, dirtying her silk pants even if the puddle was real and she was not. "How?..." She asked in an unknown language. Esdras, even without knowing it understood the question perfectly due the bond of the sword. He wanted to move towards the woman, but there was no way for him to help her without frightening the real people on the streets.
"Think... remember... you'll know the answer." Esdras replied. In truth, he was giving her a certainty that he did not have. As Vazrik and Tatja explained to him, each spirit was unique and since there was no way to tell how much time one spent inside the Sword and how it experienced its confinement, there was no way to be sure that one spirit would be still functional and not simply be a mere shadow... or even something dangerous to the bearer of the Sword. "Start with simple things... what is your name. Who are you... and then, how you died." His questions would help here, but also where leading questions.
"Sakhra of the Bseiso Clan... 'Alqurna' also..." She got up and closed her eyes. One hand on her chest and the other caressing the blood in it. "I was a warrior, one of the Seven of Awad. No, I was a great warrior, the One of the seven. I was unique among my kind, for I did not use a spear, a mameluke or the epsilon... I used a great sword..." Her hands bolted for her waist, suggesting that she held the Sword horizontally at waist line. She opened her eyes and narrowed it when she for the first time noticed the Sword across Esdras's back. "You stole my sword. I'll kill you..."
Pella nods. "We will do what we can to follow, and meet up with you in Theveste." The group goes to a quiet tavern where they trade a few coppers for some borrowed pans to cook with, and they spend a few minutes going over what they know of Forg.
Forg is a short man with an athletic build. He has long, lanky hair and a short beard. He has high cheekbones and a faint horizontal scar under his left eye.
Forg is the kind of guy that would do any sort of work for the right price, and lately he's earned a reputation for liking the kind of payments that come from selling slaves, particularly children. He's known as a conniving, backstabbing scoundrel that you couldn't trust to hold the door for you. He cares about one thing, and one thing only: his own hide.
“That’s what they all say, but I haven’t seen it yet.” He nodded to the rest, mentally preparing himself to be even more on watch tonight.
”Don’t suppose you have any idea of the people who would likely be there? I obviously don’t but, then again, I’m not as experienced as you,” Cass offered the friendly joke about Nico’s age with a warm smile. ”Because if you do - I can remember them easily enough if I had a cheat sheet to study from, I am sure. And I bet it would win me a few points with them.” He didn’t expect Nico to, but if he could point him somewhere, Cass was happy to gather what information he could before the dinner tonight. But other than that – he felt a need to relax a bit before he became a giant ball of stress in a room where he knew he was going to feel incredibly out-of-place already. The High Cardinal seemed nice enough – but the rest of them?
He let out a heavy sigh and munched on a few more berries, pulling out the leather bound book he was working on and taking a few more notes.
The massive sword stood on it's pommel, leaning against the wall, slightly canted to one side, caught on the door knob of the small room the big skive had rented. Anyone opening that door would make quite a racket.
Draegar sat on his rented bed and finished counting out his profits with a satisfied smile on his face. He'd done better than expected. A hundred and fifty crowns was a good step towards being able to fund the work he had in mind. The business with the High Cardinal was unexpected, and he hadn't decided if it was good or bad yet. The holy man's heart seemed to be in the right place, and he had money to burn, so it might be that Draegar could get some kind of contract out of it.
He called his automaton over to him and said "Open up."
The four upper legs each grabbed a quarter-hemisphere plate with a magnetic clunk and pulled them free, exposing the mechanism's inner workings. The small room was suddenly bathed in a pulsing crimson glow.
Draegar put the hefty coin purse into a hollow holding compartment inside the core of the mechanical spider and said "Close up."
The glow vanished as the bot put it's armored plating back into place.
Draegar stretched out on the too-short bed, his feet hanging off the edge. He put his hands behind his head and let out a long breath. It had been quite a day.
"Sentry mode," he said. The bot moved to the center of the room, two of it's arms raised and it's blade-like claws at the ready. It kept a passive watch.
Draegar slept.
~~~Caspain "Cass" Abernathy~~~
Nico gives a wry smile at the age joke. "Careful now, remember the ship paperwork is under my name. Not my fault is my apprentice got lost and was stuck in Brieca." He jests.
When asked about nobles he sighs, shaking his head. "Never a topic I had cared much about, although in my old age I realized that was a mistake. Funding is often dependent on having the right noble on your side. I'm afraid you will be on your own."
Topaz enjoys the pork, having never had it before, and makes mental notes of all of Forg's most salient characteristics.
"I don' know Theveste, but I don't s'pose it'll be hard t'track down the Cardinal's ship. Mus' be taverns an' such though. Plan t'meet at whatever tavern's closest t'where we end up dockin'? An' leave messages there if'n we can't meet for some reason."
Pella remembers a particularly famous tavern near the docks and gives Topaz directions to meet with them there.
From the folds of her cloths, Sakhra drew a curved dagger and quickly jumped at Esdras, aiming at his throat. His reflexes were faster, allowing him to block the attack with his right hand... or at least it would, if Sakhra was not already dead and was just a manifestation of the sword. The blade passed through his blocking arm and through Esdras's throat. The impulse caused her also to pass through him harmlessly. She screamed in frustration.
Esdras movement, however, were clearly perceived by those around him. When he sidestepped to block the attack, he brushed against an old lady and almost spilled a basket full of dried tamarinds. "I'm sorry, madam... the sun in playing tricks with me. I thought I had seen a wasp." He apologized to the woman while he centered himself. Sakhra stabbed and jumped at him a couple more times before she game up, panting with frustration.
"Are you done? I have not stolen this sword from. You died, I do not know how... perhaps you do if you try to remember. Someone else took the sword from your lifeless body and, eventually, it ended up in my hands. I do not know how long it took... as far as I'm concerned, this could have happened last year, or hundreds years ago." He explained with calm, even if a bit stressed by the whole scene. "What I know is that the sword you clame to be yours, which now is my burden, is cursed. Everyone who ever killed with it would also become trapped within it upon her death. This is what happened to you... and this is what will eventually happen to me." For now, he decided that it was enough information for her to digest. He would give her time, even if time was all she had.
Looking behind him, he noticed that Isabela had already finished to peruse through the shop and was waiting for him. Turning his back to Sakhra, he added before she vanished. "As I've said before, Sakhra of the Bseiso, I'm your friend. Whenever you want to talk to me, I'll be there to listen to you."
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The day seems to fly by in Caranusca, every person having their own responsibilities to attend to. But as dinnertime comes to pass the skies darken, clouds forming in the skies. The city goes dark abnormally fast as the sun passes over the Yundalite mountains while the storm manifests. Within minutes the bustle of the city becomes a quiet hurried pace as everybody rushes to get home or find shelter.
It is a strange atmosphere for those used to living on the inner ring of Yundal. Storms are abnormally rare on the inner ring, and unless one lives in Ternock territory or the far eastern edge of Skive, the sun is never blocked so early in the evening. But the locals don't seem perturbed as they walk at brisk paces to shelters, the local guard helping to expedite traffic as they direct everybody inside. Strangers caught out far from home who are unable to find room in an inn or tavern are invited in by some of the more kind-hearted locals. As the rain begins to pelt down, a particularly large and famous inn near the docks manages to shelter a great deal of foreigners. The Steel Maiden Inn.
Music and the smell of food and drink pours out of the door. The Steel Maiden Inn is a large and spacious building, the main area itself taking up two entire floors with an open center, making the entire area feel like one large room. Even with the spacious construction the area still feels crowded with how many people are jammed in. A roaring fire on the far wall fills the room with warmth, and the music comes from a raised stage on the left wall where four bards are performing. More than a dozen servers navigate around the room to take orders and drop off food or drink, mostly young women but two young men and one middle-aged man among them. Behind the expansive bar is a middle-aged woman with a hard face, her lean face and faint scars marking her as someone who is no stranger to battle. She seems to glide behind the bar, pushing off from one section to the next like she's on a wheeled chair.
The Steel Maiden Inn is crowded, but the owner does her best to make accommodations. Rooms are double or even triple booked, and more than a few people end up settling in for the night on a chair or a cot on the floor. As evening turns to night, the storm only rages harder and harder. Shutters and doors slam in the wind, with the occasional loud crash heard from something outside getting swept up. Lightning flashes across the sky, occasionally striking high up in the mountains. The most unsettling part is the thunder, which rumbles the ground every few minutes, causing more than one person to jump in surprise or drop something they're holding, especially all the foreigners who are in for the festival. On more than one occasion tempers seem to flare, but nothing develops beyond a few minor brawls that are quickly broken up.
As the hour grows late, the raging storm turns to a steady downpour. The rain shows no sign of letting up, but the wind has died down, and the lightning and thunder are in the far distance. Families with children and many others retire for the night, leaving the main room much less crowded and more subdued. The bards set down their instruments and take a break to drink. Old men sit at tables and nurse their drinks, talking quietly among themselves. The middle-aged man bolts the main door for the night as the servers go about cleaning up the dishes.
The rain continues to beat down.
A single musical note sounds out in the corner near the fire. The woman from behind the bar has made her way over to a stool and sits with a harmonica to her mouth. Now that she's out from behind the bar, it's clear why she was using a rolling chair. Both of her pant legs are stitched closed about a foot below her torso. A few more notes sound out as she runs the harmonica across her mouth, testing the sound. Two of the bards set down their drinks and return to their instruments as the rest of the inn goes quiet. The barkeep plays a few more notes, then nods. The two bards start a soft intro.
The song plays our beautifully over the inn, the barkeep taking lead as the bards provide background ambiance. As she plays she appears completely inwardly drawn, eyes closed for the entire performance.
The last note fades out, prompting some applause from the foreigners but mostly nods and raised glasses from the locals. The woman stows away her harmonica, opening her eyes and keeping her gaze down. For how she acts it's like she didn't even have an audience as she stares at the floor. The scattered applause quickly dies down to match the more somber reactions from the others.
In the quiet aftermath the middle-aged server walks over, placing a bar stool in front of the crackling fire and sitting down. He grabs a lute-looking instrument from the corner and after clearing his throat begins to play.
But one day a soldier with a bullet in his chest
Hung his rifle on my limbs and laid to rest
And there beside me as the blood soaked to my roots
The soldier sang
A song of grace
The heavy rifle bowed me over to the ground
Two years I stayed this way until the rifle fell
And in this manner for a hundred years I grew
All my dreams
Not meant to be
And then one day two men came with a cross cut saw
They spoke of how my arch would hold a weight so strong
And I feared not the blade for such a worthy cause
And so I fell
I gladly fell
Three winter days aboard an eastbound ship
Three more beneath the hewer's careful blade
And while he worked he praised my rich red grain
Perhaps it was the soldier's blood that day
Now I'm the wooden arch that holds a mighty bell
Three stocks before me cracked but I shall never fail
Up in a tall cathedral high above my dreams
Of long ago
And on holy mornings when I hear that sweet refrain
I see the soldier's face like it was yesterday
Calling angels down from heaven with that hymn he softly sang
Of Azgaar's good grace
The last notes fade to gentle applause and more raised glasses. The man gives a soft smile and nods to the crowd, then looks at the barkeep, who continues to look down and avoids his gaze. He sighs, putting away the instrument and going back to his duties.
The rain continues to beat down.
.
.
You wake before the sun fully rises, blanket stuck to your skin from a cold sweat.
.
.
You wake before the sun fully rises, blanket stuck to your skin from a cold sweat.
.
.
You wake before the sun fully rises, blanket stuck to your skin from a cold sweat.
.
.
You wake before the sun fully rises, blanket stuck to your skin from a cold sweat.
Date: 10 Autumn 895 A.S
Time: Early Morning
Weather: 68° F (20° C); Slightly Foggy, Humid
Location: Caranusca, Outer Port of Brieca
It's foggy this morning. The heavens hold their mysteries beyond the gray veil of the sky, unwilling to disclose what may come to pass.
Draegar left his room before dawn. It wasn't his usual custom, but inns had never been his favorite places.
Heedless of other people sleeping he want out back behind the inn and found a splitting axe and a pile of wood. The steady, slow tattoo of heavy blows against logs was what most people at the Steel Maiden woke up to that morning.
He was as unfailing and mechanical as the clockwork automaton that collected the lumber and stacked it beneath the awning. When he began to sweat in the cool morning air the sun had finally crested the horizon. He stripped off his shirt revealing an impressive musculature that was riddled with shocking red scars.
By the time he felt like he had his head sorted out, there was nothing left to chop.
As the evening goes on, Topaz chats with the bards when they take a break, swapping a few performance stories and "you'll never believe this one!" tales, like bards do whenever they meet.
When the barkeep and the server start performing, she finds a chair and listens. There's stories here, no doubt. Somethin' between those two, somethin' in the past. Don' know wha', but those looks say somethin' I'm not in on.
The server's song is not at all her usual style, but she can't help but be captivated by it. At the end, she goes up to him as he puts away the instrument.
"One performer t'another, tha' was stunnin'. Thanks for sharin' it. You've a gift an' no mistakin'.
Before sunrise, Topaz groggily peels the blanket off and groans. Wha' was THAT all abou'? She sits for a few minutes, then finds a basin and some water. She splashes her face and hands with water, trying to get herself awake.
Ge' a grip, girl. Ye've got a big day t'day an' ye need t'be on yer game.
She puts on her entertaining outfit, then pulls on the magical sleeves. As she does so, the outfit changes, becoming something a little fancier, a little cleaner, a little more fitted. Shades of dark red with a few silver threads here and there. Nothing too flashy, nothing that seems completely out of bounds for someone in her position, but nicer than anything she actually owns. She adds the silver jewelry she bought the day before, and uses the scarf to tie back her unruly hair. The magical sleeves do nothing for her battered old backpack, but best to bring it along. It can get stashed in whatever room she has on the ship.
After considering for a bit, she conceals her dagger under her skirts. Hopefully it won't be needed, but with someone like Forg around, she figures she'd better be prepared.
It may not be what the nobles would be used to, but it would do.
The process of getting dressed helps clear her head somewhat, and she decides to go outside for a little air now that the storm is over.
As she steps out into the fog, she hears the sound of wood being chopped and drifts in that direction. She is considerably startled to find Draegar, shirtless, chopping the wood.
"Oh, sorry!" she says. Didn' mean t'bother you."
Draegar was so lost in his rhythm that the sound of Topaz's voice startled him. He turned his head and shoulders toward her mid-swing and missed the chunk of wood he'd been aiming at. He tagged it just enough to send it flying directly into his own knee. He made a strangled sound and the corners of his eyes tightened. Trying to pretend nothing had happened, he brought the axe to his shoulder and cleared his throat. "No bother," he rumbled. His voice sounded a bit strained. "You, ah... need something?"
The middle-aged man gives a sad smile to Topaz and nods. "Thank you. I'm glad more can hear the story before my voice gets too old and gives out." He says as he returns the bar stool.
"Feels like tha's one o' those song wha' tells more of a story than it seems, t'those what know it. I don' know it, but I can hear somethin' of it, I think. Thanks fer sharin' it."
"Oh, no, now I've gone'n' made y'hurt y'self. Don' do tha'. I was jus' lookin' for some air, didn't mean t'interrupt. Big day fer the likes o'us today, an' I needed a breather before i' all starts."
The man gives a half-hearted chuckle as he sets the stool down. "Most songs do, if you listen to them closely enough. Even hers, wordless as it is." He glances at the bartender, still sitting quietly in the corner and gazing down. "It was my pleasure. Excuse me, I have to finish cleaning up for the night." With a polite inclination of his head the man returns to his duties at the inn.
Cass, while usually one to sit and drink with the rest while listening to music, only stopped at the bar of the Steel Maiden briefly to order some food sent up to his room where he could do some work. Something was bothering him this evening and he hadn’t figured it out yet. He gave a cursory nod to those he recognized before heading upstairs. Pulling out one of his books, a thick tome entitled: “The Applied Mechanics of Ikerothian Astronomy”, Cass began flipping through the pages and running the calculations there in his journal, cross-referencing back and forth between his own journal and the published tome and reading and re-reading the hastily scribbled notes he had made in the margins.
He stood up every now and then and moved to the window, casting a glance out at the dark sky, taking note of whatever glimpses of the stars he could see through the cloud cover to continue his work. He was briefly interrupted by the delivery of food, a nice platter of seafood from the nearby ocean, but, by and large, his focus was singular. Storms were rare around here – and the sun had been covered far earlier than they should have been. And the thought kept nagging at him: Why?
It could be a coincidence – but if his studies of Astronomy taught Cass anything it was that “coincidence” was just a word the unlearned used when they didn’t want to admit they didn’t know. Everything happens for a reason – that’s the way the world worked. Everything had a cause and everything had an effect. After an hour of this, Cass kicked off his boots and pulled his socks off, resting his bare feet against the floorboards of his room. It was directly above the tavern proper and he could feel the vibrations through the floor. A musician plucked a string, and a sound was created. Similarly you turn a gear inside a clock, and the time changes. Everything happened for a reason and this wasn’t a religious thing, Cass put little stock in that. It was basic science - the Principle of Causality.
Nowhere in the world can there be any phenomena that did not give rise to certain consequences and have not been caused by other phenomena. Simple. “Cause and effect,” Cass reminded himself, ”or figuratively speaking, of progenitors and their progeny.”
He sighed and put his book down and leaned back in his chair. He wasn’t going to figure out the weather tonight – he knew enough to know it was odd and out of place, but that was about it. He let himself be lulled for a little while by the music playing below, finishing up the last of his dinner. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. He still had some stuff that needed to be done before bed though.
As the lights dimmed, Cass continued to work, calculating the next perigees of the planets that orbited near Ikeroth, and predicting their future movements in orbit. The storm threw him off though, if that could come out of nowhere, then could the planets also adjust themselves? He’d have to figure the potential error ratio into his calculations as well.
He had learned this practice from an old skyseer, though rather than take it on faith, Cass applied astromathematics to the skyseer traditions and created a blend of the ancient tradition that he was pretty sure wasn’t done elsewhere. And when the light of the candles he was working by went out, he offered a whispered word in Sarvic, "lux," squeezing the burnt out wick between his fingers, and the light on the candle was magically replenished. No flame or heat, just a soft luminous glow so he could work through the night.
But eventually sleep overtook him, and he drifted off, face down at his desk…
Cass awoke the next morn with a startled yelp, ”By the bloody bones of—“ and tumbled out of his chair to land on the wooden floor with a crash. He groaned and pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the tingling in his elbow. He’d probably feel that for the rest of the day. He inhaled sharply, remembering his dream. Must’ve been the storm, he reasoned, all the thunder and lightning must have given way to that nightmare. He was surprised he could still remember any of it – he usually didn’t. Maybe that memory of that dream would go away as the day passed on.
Stretching a bit, he righted his chair and sat back down, going over his work once more and committing some formulae to memory. After a moment he reached under his shirt to the thick leather cord that hung around his neck from which a leather ornament dangled – it was a single thick circle of rawhide stamped with the symbol of Abernathy and Sons, a single “A” over a pair of crossed hammers. Grasping the circular piece of leather between his thumb and forefinger, he rubbed it between his fingers and whispered, ”armis”. He could feel the magics spread throughout his limbs, steeling his body from harm.
Feeling a little safer, he moved back to the and peered through the early morning fog, ”Well, that’s not ominous at all…” and the memory of the dream raced back to his mind. Squeezing his eyes tight he pushed away the feeling of dread and gathered his things, putting them all in the rucksack before heading downstairs for some breakfast. He could hear the distant thwack of someone chopping wood and it reminded him of home. One of his older brothers always handled the woodchopping duties while Cass read at the table. His mother used to make a delicious homemade bread and marmalade and he ordered the closest thing to that from the inn before settling down. Nothing would ever taste as good as his mother’s bread – but this would do.
Collecting his plate and a cup of juice, Cass retreated to a table to sit and read, he was still puzzled by the weather last night and resolved to keep a close eye on the weather patterns the next few days to see if he could find a correlation somewhere. It would be some time before Nico woke up, Cass knew, after the old man had taken on Cass as an apprentice – Nico had taken to sleeping in and letting Cass handle the early morning work. Even now that his apprenticeship was done – Nico had continued to enjoy the practice of sleeping in for as long as he could. And Cass didn’t mind waking up early, to be honest. He enjoyed Nico’s company, his knowledge, and the friendly camaraderie that existed between him and his mentor. He was happy to keep Nico happy – and it afforded him some quiet time to do some work.
Flipping through the pages of his journal, he compared some notes he made the day before after his interaction with the High Cardinal to the alignment of the stars and the other celestial bodies. People would be horrified if they knew just how much effect the gravitational tides of nearby planets could have on their lives. And he wondered if he could find anything that would correlate the strange weather, the cosmological patterns and his planned meeting with the High Cardinal. He was still bothered by that. Why him? Why now? What provoked the Cardinal to invite him? Well, he'd figure it out eventually, patience was a virtue after all.
Taking another sip of his juice he reburied himself in his books.
He also replenished his arcane reservoir and recast an extended mage armor this morning.
"I don't think it's fatal," Draegar said glancing down at his knee. "You're not interrupting. I came out here for the same reasons as you. Work the body, clear the mind, you know?" He flipped the axe with the casual skill of a juggler and caught it again just below the head, then held the handle out toward Topaz. "You want a turn? It helps."
Esdras was talking to Gideon about the new spirit when the storm started to form. He knew that he would no be able to go back to where he was staying to he decided that the Steel Maiden Inn was as good as any shelter. Esdras noticed the presence of the others from earlier but decided against interacting with them. Instead, he looked for a table and ordered something to drink and eat.
He recognized Velia as soon as he noticed her. During the war, he had not directly fought against her but he knew she was on the enemy side. On the loosing side... as anyone who fought that war. There was no winning side. He also remembered about the tales the soldiers told him about her and seeing her in that state was painful. She wasn't the first maimed person he saw in the war, far from it, but nevertheless it never become easier. He thought about talking to her but quickly erased this thought from his mind... he did not want to remember it and she probably shared this desire.
So he sat in silence, watching the crowd. Eating and drinking. Enjoying the music. Then Velia played. And Esdras was lost. It was not a happy song, nor a sad one but it meant something for her and so it meant something for him for they were the same. Broken. As the notes played Esdras wept in silence, his eyes closed like hers. Back in his mind came the screams of the soldiers struck by the enemy... the ones crying both of pain and sadness for knowing that their lives were at the end and longing for what they left back in home... the ones laughing in a maddened state, eager to kill or be killed, with all humanity and sanity forfeit... the ones in complete silence, littering the fields.
In front of him was Gideon, crying like him. With a nod he vanished in his mind also wishing to endure his pain alone. He felt a touch on his shoulder... more knowing of it than feeling... and there was Tatja, eager to comfort him. Shaking his head he also banished her from his mind. This was his pain, and he would endure and savory it. Alone. He cast aside the glass of wine he was drinking and ordered a bottle of something stronger. He slept on the same stool a couple ours later.
Esdras wakes up startled, cold sweat covering his skin. It takes him almost a full minute for him to realize and remember where he is and that that was just a nightmare. With his mouth dry, he reaches for the cup in front of him... and just the smell of the liquor inside it makes his stomach sick.
He puts it away, taking a deep breath... and regrets it immediately. With the storm from last night, he was not the only one spending the night at the inn and many were in an even worse state then he was. The foul smell of sweat, stale liquors and even vomit entered his nostrils. He got on his feet too quickly and felt dizzy, moving as fast as he could towards the back door of the place.
Once he reached the door and opened it to get some fresh air, it was already too late. He only managed a couple seconds of reasoning before emptying his stomach on the wall, barely missing the two talking on the outside, for their luck.
As the morning continues the light level barely rises, the sun unable to pierce the thick fog. The streets remain wet from the rain and see no sign of drying anytime soon. After all of the excitement yesterday, the city seems subdued. The trip to the docks is quiet, the slapping of shoes on the wet stones and marble punctuating the journey through the old city.
As the docks grow closer a faint din can be heard coming from the waterline between the soldiers preparing for departure and a small crowd mingling amongst themselves. When the last building is turned past the holy vessel overshadows all those present at the docks. The same ship that dropped off the High Cardinal yesterday morning, the Lord's Refuge. A ship with fine trimmings and artwork adorning the hull that has dozens of windows for cannons. It seems equally built for luxury as it is for war.
The vessel is large enough that it is ported adjacent to two separate docks, both of which are being used to funnel nobles on board. It seems they got a very early start because most of them are already on board. Knights of Theveste line the docks and the surrounding open docking space, an imposing force that hardly lets a bird fly over unchecked. Local guards are scattered further out and less organized, patrolling around to prevent anybody from even getting within throwing distance of the ship.
It is two such guards that approach the group as they are seen. A large man with short-cropped hair and a scar through his upper lip, and a lanky man with high cheekbones and bright green eyes. They square up in front of the group, the big guard actually matching Draegar's bulk. The lanky guard speaks in an official-sounding tone. "Halt, the docks are quartered off this morning. State your name and business."
Topaz chuckles at Draegar. "Nah, I'm already dressed f'r th'day an' I don' think sawdust goes wi' the dress." She gestures down at herself. "But thanks f'r th'offer!"
Just then they are interrupted by Esdras's unpleasantly dramatic appearance. Topaz jumps back out of range; it's not the first time she's had to deal with the sudden aftereffects of too much drinking. One reason she usually just sticks to ale herself -- well, that and the fact that it's cheap.
"Formless take ye, be careful!" she blurts, before realizing who it is. As she takes in the sight before her, her outrage turns to laughter. "Well, m'lord, a rough night! Got into th' strong stuff, did ye?" she says with a smile and a tone that, while mocking, doesn't really have an edge to it.
---
As the ship comes into view, Topaz is staggered at the size and luxury of it. Nothing in her life in the slums and docks of Flint even remotely compares, and all her performer's training can't entirely keep the look of awe off her face.
Wonder wha' tha' all costs. So much fer one man's luxury, even if he is th' High Cardinal.
When they are challenged by the guards, Topaz looks at the other three. "I'm Topaz, an' we all're invited to th'cruise by his Holiness hisself."
Draegar winced a bit in sympathy for the hungover nobleman. Then he went back to chopping wood.
---
Later, Draegar unexpectedly found himself walking with the others who'd been invited onto the Cardinal's ship. He mentally kicked himself at his surprise, considering they'd all been instructed to be there at the same time and were coming from the same Inn.
He was wearing his automaton like a backpack, it's four of it's legs wrapped over his shoulders and beneath his arms along his ribcage. It's other legs were carrying his duffel bag on one side and his massive sword on the other.
Given what had happened with his last interaction with the local guard force, Draegar stood in the back of the group and let the others do the talking. When Topaz introduced them, he simply nodded.
Cass walked behind Draegar most of the way to the docks, his books were tucked into his rucksack to keep them dry, but he was still taking the time to study the contraption on Draegar’s back, whispering occasional calculations to himself as he tried to sort out the thing’s power source. He wished he could take it and just knock it apart to see how it worked but doubted the big man would like that.
Resigned to “look but don’t touch” Cass was quiet for most of the walk to the docks.
”What she said,” Cass jerked his thumb in Topaz’s direction, "’cept the name is Caspian Abernathy, of Abernathy and Sons. Not Topaz. You probably already figured that part out though, right?” He shifted his attention to the ship, wondering if he’d get a chance to see the engine room. ”Do we get a tour of this ship? I’d love to take a look at the engine room for my research. Always looking for ways to increase propulsion efficiency and a ship this nice must have some top of the line work done on it.”
"Topaz, like the gem." The big man murmurs with a nod. The lithe guard pushes back hair out of his face. "Right, four of you, just like they said. Martalen, Topaz....uhhh Caspain and..."
"Drigger." The big man says confidently, pointing at Draegar. "Like digging, but with an r."
"Draegar, right. Forgive him, he's trying to get better at remembering names. Maybe I should take some lessons, huh?" He chuckles. "Come on, they're nearly loaded-" The man burps suddenly with a bit of a sick look. "Ah, sorry. Nearly loaded, let's get you on board." He gestures for the group to follow him, heading towards the docks. The big man seems to be mouthing words as he looks between the group of four, following behind them in escort-style.
As they walk the lithe guard half-turns to respond to Cass. "The trip will take all day, so you should have ample time to look around. Honestly I don't know much 'bout the security or the tech on the ship, so I don't know if they'd allow you in the belly of her. I'm sure some of the sailors would know though."
Topaz smiles at the guard. Evidently Esdras wasn't the only one who had overindulged. "Quite the show yesterday, weren't it?" she says. "Rough t'have t'be workin' so early after all tha'. Thanks for gettin' us t'where we need t'be."
The ordinary small talk was her best defense against her growing nerves. She was way out of her element in this one. The only nobles she usually dealt with were those who went slumming in the bars, not a big group of them in all their finery like today. Not to mention that she was aiming to take down a notorious slaver alone.
Wonder if'n I can trust any o' this lot t'help if it comes t'it.
"Close enough," Draegar chuckled at the big guard.
He followed the others onto the ship and did his best not to bump into anything in the narrow corridors. Ships were definitely not made with people his size in mind.
He tapped the claws of the automaton where they were linked on his chest and it lowered itself to the ground, following obediently. It still carried his duffel and sword, leaving the big man about as unencumbered as he could be.
After catching his air and cleaning his mouth, Esdras recognizes the voices talking to him. He could do nothing but smile, even if a bit embarrassed. "Yes... a rough night. Indeed a rough night. Sometimes you are remembered of something that should have been forgotten..." Noticing that he was probably talking nonsense and was probably still a bit drunk, Esdras got back inside, looking for some water.
__
His head still pounding, Esdras remains in silent as the others talk to the guards, feeling some sympathy for the one in the same state as himself.
As the guards lead the group closer to the docks and the massive vessel, three knights of Theveste approach, the middle one taking off his winged helmet to reveal himself to be Marcellun Baro. He inclines his head politely. "In His light. Thank you for arriving on time." He looks at the guards. "Dismissed." They nod, going back to their patrol duties. Marcellun gestures for the group to follow him, and they are flanked by the knights on either side, upgrading their escort. The last fifty feet to the ship does seem rather treacherous.
The short escort ends on the right side of the vessel, where the knights split off and Marcellun gestures to the waiting line of nobles. The line moves quickly enough, a man in high servant clothes with a list checking names as people go in. After a few minutes the group are the only guests left out on the docks (along with the knights). They make their way up the ramp and the servant eyes them with an arced brow, but moves aside as Marcellun gives him a nod. And then they step inside.
You couldn't fault anybody for thinking they stepped into another world. As ornate and decorated the exterior hulls of the vessel are, they seem dull and crude compared to the interior. It is a cathedral of Azgaar, fully decorated and embellished. The room seems impossibly large, even for the size of the vessel, as its ceiling vaults sickeningly high. The interior structure is made from marble and metal, shining in the glorious white and gold colors of Brieca. Tall marble pillars line the walls, each one several feet thick and holding up the impressive ceiling, which depicts scenes from the holy books of Azgaar in stunning gold etch-work. Partway up each pillar are walkways connecting them, openings passing through the centers of them to create a second floor that rings around entire room, open to the center but with a railing. The stairs leading up are built on the exteriors of the four corner pillars, winding in circles. There are a few exits around the room, largely on the far ends near the statues, leading to the rest of the ship.
On the far half of the room between each pillar on the ground floor, underneath the 'second floor' walkways, are depictions of the five aspects of Azgaar. The Lord, the Judge, the Evangelist, the Soldier, and the Sage. The Lord stands in the center while the other aspects take up flanking sections on the wings, but each stands the same height with equal levels of decoration and honor. On each pillar is the standard of Brieca, opened up and proudly displayed to the center of the room.
The room is well lit, showing off the splendor and glory of the Briecan craftsmanship. Although no windows show to the outside there are floating beads of magical light in intricately designed sconces on the pillars. An incense hangs in the air, giving a pleasantly musky smell to the room, punctuated by smells of warm pastries and cooked meat. The room is well populated and has the din of high-society conversation. Tables and chairs are evenly spaced throughout the ground floor, with smaller versions upstairs. Nobles are collected in groups all over the room in various sizes, talking among themselves and chuckling and eating and gazing about. Some groups are as large as fifty and seem to have nobles of all kinds speaking loudly and freely, while others are small and speak quietly while glancing around. The population is heavily Briecan, about four-fifths, with a majority of them wearing the holy colors but a significant minority showing off other Briecan fashions. Most of the other nobles seem to be from Almor, who seem to be dressing conservatively for the occasion. Rarely a few nobles from Thane are spotted with their more progressive fashion, but they seem to be mostly isolated and keeping to themselves in one corner of the first floor. Lastly, spotted around the room and standing stoically, knights of Theveste seem to be impersonating statues. The nobles float around them without even glancing, treating them almost as decorations.
With the last passengers boarded, Marcellun barks an order, prompting the knights of Theveste still outside to march on, drawing in the ramp behind them. Horns are heard outside as well as the bustle of dockers working to get the massive vessel's momentum started.
With a gentle lurch, the journey begins.
There's no turning back now.
How the hell did I end up on a floating cathedral? Draegar thought to himself as he stared at the interior of the ship.
In spite of looking like a brute, Draegar had an artist's eye and an engineer's brain. After the initial shock a the luxury had worn off, he was taking in the function behind the form, getting a master's lesson in ship design just by looking at how it all fit together. The carvings and filigree layered over it all was impressive and very pretty, but it was just set dressing. The real beauty was in the artistry of how the ship was built.
Then the whole thing lurched. Draegar had never actually been on a ship before. He hadn't really thought about what being on one would feel like. "Woah."
Id din't take him long to adjust to the gentle rolling, but it knocked him out of his reverie. He started taking in the gathered people, and immediately felt very out of place. The Thanite dignitaries in particular set him on edge. He was the only Skive present, and there was nowhere to run.
What the f##~ have I gotten myself into?
If her first view of the ship had caught Topaz off guard, the view of the inside truly floored her. She stopped in her tracks, eyes wide at the immensity, the decor, and the effect of it all. It wasn’t until the ship lurched and began to move that she shook herself loose from the shock.
For all that she lived by the docks, she had only rarely even set foot on a ship, and had never actually moved on the water in anything much bigger than a rowboat. There was one time she got hired to entertain a tugboat crew, but that didn’t get very far before the pilot got too drunk to navigate and they’d had to drop anchor until a new one could be brought out. Nothing like this immense floating cathedral.
Turning to Cass, she said, ”Ye ever seen anythin’ like this before?!”
Shaking her head, she tried to regain some equilibrium, both physical and mental. Ge’ a grip! Ye’ve got a job t’do. She scanned the crowd of nobles, looking for any that met the description of Forg she’d gotten earlier. It would be good to know just who she was going after. Figuring out how to get the Cardinal to listen would come later.
Like the others, Esdras was amazed by the beauty of the ship. He felt too small and insignificant for a couple seconds, until he realized that it was probably intended. I've read about it before, even if I'm feeling it for the first time. Such cathedrals are indeed built to humble the faithful, giving more significance to the divine.
Another detail that caught his attention was the richness of the place. He was aware that in Brieca the High Cardinal had probably the same, or even higher, importance than a king, but even so it was a religious institution with meaningful texts about 'helping people'. He could not stop himself from thinking about how many Briecans would live better lives if the ship was less opulent.
He turned to the others. "If I'm feeling a bit lost in here, I wonder about how you are faring. If you wish, stick close to me and I'll give you some pointers about the 'dos' and 'don'ts'... but first I'll have to change. The rain last night caught be by surprise, for I was not staying at the Steel Maiden."
Turning to Marcellum, he continued. "Marcellum, do you know where is my cabin? Or perhaps know how might know about its location."
Cass’ mouth was slightly agape as he followed the others onboard, his attention torn from Draegar’s contraption to the finery of the ship. He had studied with a few nobles but their tastes for extravagance were definitely tempered in the Academy so this was all a bit much for him. As he boarded the ship he let his fingertips drag alongside the ship’s exterior – tracing lines on the railings and feeling the craftmanship against his skin. So much extravagance, ”Pecunia nervus belli,” Cass whispered under his breath.
He quickly closed his mouth and turned to look at the docks and then to Topaz. ”This extravagant? No. There are some illustrations in Prisem’s Illustrations on the Architecture of Almor but they hardly do this justice.” He reached into his rucksack and dug around, pulling out a small ball of clay and began massaging it between his fingers. The movement of squeezing and re-squeezing served to alleviate some of the stress and gave his brain something repetitive to focus on. Though, to be honest, nothing was going to fully relieve in anxiety.
He continued to squeeze his clay ball, working the material between his fingers, as he cast a glance around the ship, wondering briefly if his shadow investor was among those boarded. He dismissed the thought of searching for them, there was no way he’d even know where to begin and he was sure the nobility were all already looking at him. While he was dressed in nicer clothes, some middle class Thanite fashion, he still felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb. He gave his stress-ball another squeeze and let out an uncomfortable grunt.
The discomfort of the new group is readily apparent. A towering muscled half-skive, a low-class docker, a tattooed middle-class Thane, and even Esdras as people turn and stare at the estranged noble. The volume near the back of the ship (where the group currently is) lowers somewhat, as if the least favorite friend just arrived at the party, and more than a few people are seen glancing at them briefly and whispering to each other about the newcomers.
Marcellun nods to Esdras. "Of course." He turns to face the servant who had the scroll with the attendance list for the day. "Where are the Martalen lodgings?"
The servant unfurls the large scroll, searching about halfway down for a moment before nodding and tapping the parchment. "Martalen, yes we have you here. The second floor cabin just between port and stern." He glances up for a moment, then closes the scroll and stores it within his robes, face blank and polite. "I can have servants lead you there." He strides to the wall, where he raps twice. Almost immediately the wall slides open from an unseen mechanism, and a young girl in servant attire step out. The male servant gives her directions, and she curtsies before moving to lead Esdras to his cabin.
"They're staring at us aren't they? I bet they're staring at us. Nevermind, don't tell me. I don't want to know." Cass averted his eyes to the ground and squeezed the ball of malleable clay even harder.
He was grateful for Esdras being here - until the noble began to move away. "...mind if I walk with you?" Cass inquired as he begins to follow after the larger man, not even waiting for a response. Esdras had said to stick with him - and Cass was going to take him up on that offer as long as he remained on the boat.
Not bothering to ask permission, Draegar quickly followed Cass and Esdras. There was no way he was going to let himself be left in the cathedral alone.
His mechanical spider bot whirred and clacked along behind him.
Topaz felt all the eyes on her, just as the others did. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but she took a breath and put on her best performer’s smile, meeting the murmurs and the looks with a bravado honed by years of fending off leering drunkards at the Ship’s Wheel. She might be low class, and this might be an intimidating situation, but she wasn’t about to let these nobles put her any more off her game.
As the others moved off, she joined them, stopping only to ask Marcellun, ”Could y’tell me where I’m stayin’ at? Would rather not carry this aroun’ all day,” gesturing at her backpack. Assuming that the servant girl would get directions to her cabin as well, she moved off with the group. It was a good chance to get a better look at the crowd, too.
Marcellus inclines his head to Topaz. "His Holiness has expansive quarters near the front of the ship that includes guest lodgings he has instructed to be set aside for you all. I can have a servant lead you there, or simply drop off your things for you."
At Cass's question, Esdras smiled and nodded. "Of course, come with me... and care not about all those eyes." He added, while massaging his neck, a little stiff after spending a night sleeping on a chair.
Once they are on there way, Esdras continued. "Don't let them into your mind. They are just people, after all... most of them are spoiled, petty, self-important people, but just people. You on the other hand, are normal, honest (I hope) people, and a couple of them will make sure you know the difference."
"Be respectful, for there is no way for you to know to whom you are really talking to, but don't pretend to be someone you are not... be yourselves. Unless I'm greatly wrong, that look of before will most likely become curiosity."
When they reached at the appointed room, Esdras turned to them once more before entering his room. "I'll just change my clothes..."
The servant leads the group to the left of the ship, skirting around the edges of the room to avoid the crowds, and opening an ornate door behind one of the columns halfway down the room. As they pass there are more whispers and shared glances, along with a few greetings to Esdras, but nobody moves to stop you or seems particularly interested in starting a conversation.
Once out the door the group finds themselves in a hallway that, while nice, looks much more ship-like than the previous room. The servant leads them slightly down the hallway, up a small staircase, then indicates one of the rooms that has the name "Martalen" hung over the handle.
The room is moderately furnished, rather small for a family of nobles but it has all the basic necessities. Evidently the rooms are intended more for storage and privacy than long-term stays, but they are nice enough and serve their purpose. Esdras sees the luggage of his family, and after a brief moment of confusion sees his own luggage underneath his sisters.
Brother, I hope you made in on board
Please, I know that you struggle but
try to be at your best today. Father
is irritable and wants to ensure you
don't miss out on this opportunity.
Please hurry back and be safe.
When he finally finds his luggage, he can't stop himself from wondering why his sister needed so much stuff. Even considering his secondary luggage that carried his armor, his sister still had twice as much trunks than him.
As Esdras opens his luggage, he notices the note from his sister, reading it while he undresses. Hum... this is unfair. I do not struggle to be at my best. He laughs to himself, aware that it was not what she meant. ...and father is always irritable. He then folds the note and finishes to ready himself. Esdras never had much patience when the matter was his vesture, so most of his clothes were quite similar, even if all well made. When he was finished, he put the note on a pocket before leaving for the hallway.
"Very well, would you like me to accompany you to your rooms? I'll have to meet with my family sometime, but for now I'm free to walk with you."
Topaz nods. ”May as well ge’ rid o’ the baggage. Don’ need to carry it around all day.”
"I think..." Cass instinctively clutched at the strap of the rucksack that was slung over one shoulder. "I'll keep mine with me if that isn't too much trouble."
"I'll be right back," Draegar rumbled.
While he dropped off his bags, he said "Travel Mode," to his automaton. It quickly shucked off it's outer shell of armor, leaving it as a lightweight contraption with most of it's chassis exposed. Then it collapsed down further, reconfiguring itself into what looked a great deal like a compact technologist's tool kit, which Draegar hung from his belt.
Knowing he was going to meet with the Cardinal again today, Draegar was already wearing his nicest clothes, which mostly meant that he wasn't wearing his armor or coveralls, and had on the shirt with the fewest stitches, singe marks, or oil and blood stains. His frock coat did a lot to mask the flaws in the rest of his wardrobe. It was one of the benefits of still adhering somewhat to Thanish fashion sensibilities. He passed the civility test at first glance, save for all the red scars on the side of his face.
The only weapons he was carrying were a pair of his steel flechettes in sheathed beneath his coat at the back of his belt.
He felt practically naked.
When he notices the others are ready, Esdras gestures them to follow him. "I'd be lying to you if I've said I know what we should do here or where we should go, but we could go look for something to eat and drink... I believe you might be feeling differently, but my head and stomach are aching for something."
Dressed up (more or less), unburdened (more or less), and prepared (mostly less), the group makes their way back into the main section of the ship. The servant opens the door, letting them walk through and closing it behind them.
The room hasn't changed since their short side journey, the same nobles in their cliques talking amongst themselves. The people closer start talking more quietly, but various snippets can be heard above the chattering.
"Why are they here?"
"I thought they were workers on the ship."
"That's Esdras Martalen, something's off about him."
"Why would they let a skive on board?"
"Look at those gaudy outfits."
Among other comments that float past them, many too quiet to hear, of a few different levels of politeness.
Esdras's nose directs him to the area just before the shrines to Azgaar, where tables with ornate clothes prop up dozens of plates of food. Although a normal Yundal meal at this time of day would be simple plates of cheese and berries, occasionally a pastry if you're hungry, occasionally some meat if you're expecting a hard-working morning, these tables bend under the weight of cooked red meat and fancy hors d'oeuvres that smell tantalizing even if you weren't hungry. And luckily based on their entrance to the room, the nearest table is only a few dozen feet away, with minimal obstructions.
A large group of young Briecans on the right chats loudly with a few glances at the strange group. A smaller group of about fifteen people wearing red accents give several hard looks. Two Thanites stand at the wall, speaking in muffled voices to each other with one staring occasionally.
Topaz puts on her best smile again as she comes into the room. The brief time away from this room, with its grandiose decoration and snooty nobles, had given her a chance to catch her breath and put up the bravado that she didn't necessarily feel. You can do this, girl. Don' let them get in yer head.
She smiles at the various groups as they pass. The folks in red catch her eye - it's a bit of a contrast to the white and gold everywhere and thus noticeable. But she doesn't immediately recognize them as anything in particular. She catches the eye of one of them and smiles brighter, with a slight curtsey as best she can.
The sight of the food table brings her up short. Never in her life has she seen that much food in one place, never mind how much meat there is. I knew th'nobles ate better'n th' rest of us, but I had no idea it were like THAT.
She turns to Esdras, but speaks loudly enough to include any of the nobles who happen to be nearby. "This all looks d'licious. What d'you recommend? Have any favorites?"
Huh. Aren't those the Bagley Brothers? What are they doing here? Wonder if...
Draegar nudged Caspian. "You recognize those two, there at the wall?"
"Do I?" Cass adopted a feigned tone of offense before grinning. "At least there are some people here that will speak our language, yes? Maybe they'll have a solution to that overload problem Nico and I have been working on..."
He glanced at Draegar and moved towards the brothers, "Let's introduce ourselves..."
With the knowledge the entire party onboard this ship wasn't just stuffy nobles, Cass' stride was more confident and assured as he made his way to the Bagey Brothers. "Sirs Amos and Enoch, I presume? I can't tell you how big of a fan I am of your work. Caspian Abernathy," He didn't offer a hand to shake but instead reached into his bag and slid out his journal, flipping it open to a blank page. "I read your treatsie on ettunium containment and have some followup questions if you don't mind?"
"How did you land on the containment module? I had done some thought experiments with magnetic confinement to control it but found, mathematically, I couldn't produce a stable enough device..." and off he went for a solid five minutes explaining why his attempt failed before it even got to the building stage.
"Draegar," the big skive said. I'm also a fan." He didn't have time to say much more before Cass was off to the races.
Esdras moved with purpose towards the tables with the food, paying little attention to the nobles talking about them. When he hears his name, however, he pauses briefly before continuing, resisting the urge to see whom was talking. If he was to be honest to himself, he did not like crowded places, for they remembered him about the war... actually, many common situations remembered him about that. To counter that, he usually looked for a place where he would be able to see the whole place, preferably with something against his back. In this case, the table with the food would have to do the trick.
Looking around he recognized the woman who appeared to be the opinion maker of the Briecan group, knowing the others to be minor nobles, as well as the Briecan in red. Camellia Vera... hum, better to keep an eye on her. One can never know what to expect with this one if the rumors bare any semblance of truth... and then we have the Cantabers. Again, if the rumors are truth, there is a man to be despised...
His wonderings are interrupted by Topaz's question about the food. Recomposing himself he answered after taking a hors d'oeuvres that looked like raw meat with capers. "Do you like meat? If you do, definitely go for the roasted meat, for it is easily recognizable as such. All this other stuff are kind of mysterious..." He tried another one with a white cream on top of it and soon after went for the roasted lamb, dipping it on a mint sauce. "Argh... aged goat cheese... see? This is the problem. One can never really know what they are, but the meat is always meat."