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16th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Year of Reckoning
The Vánüm language, or the Elder Tongue: Fā, sometimes stylized as Fay, definition: violence, to undo, unmake, or to destroy (uncommon)
From ‘Captain's Log’ of the Painful Lady, written by Captain Chapel in the 120th Reckoned Year
The entire crew is assembled on the deck below the imposing and beautiful tree-mast that holds the Lady’s furled sails. Petsune tried to persuade Chapel not to tell Sprig at least, but Chapel refused. He had said, “Hard things shouldn’t be hidden from children, just told with more care.” Now the Captain steps forward and speaks to the crew, “We have sad news: I’m afraid King Bornidin the Younger is dead.” There is some muttering and a few shallow gasps. Chapel continues, “I won’t hide things from you… the story is that he was killed by a group of Coldors, but I can’t say if this is rumor or truth. If it is truth, then a declaration of war will be issued by King Feyaz. Let’s all pray to the Saints that isn’t the case.”
The General is the first to speak, giving voice to the thoughts of many. “Hmm. What will we do now, Captain?”
Chapel looks around at the worried faces of the crew, “We will remain docked here at the Misty Shoals and wait to see if a declaration of war is made. A Royal messenger beak will be able to fly here in about 2 days. If one does not arrive, we will sail North across the Misty Shoals to the Broadfell Keep, I want to collect some trail oil over that way. If a messenger beak does arrive… well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Whatever happens, we’re family. In the meantime, we have some things to get done around the house, so to speak,” Chapel looks at each person he speaks to, “Bor, you will be heading into the markets to replenish our stock, so if anyone else wants anything in particular, see Bor. Mavis, you’ll be in charge of seeing that all of our cargo is sold off here, or at least as much as we can manage.”
Mavis’s eyes go wide. “Are you certain, Captain?”
But Chapel doesn’t hesitate, “Quite. Pickett, Sprig, Big Man, Shush, and Cheese - you are all going to help Mavis offload the cargo. Don’t worry so much about price, just get it sold.” There are a few nods from those named. “General Tar, I want you to go into the town and speak with anyone who remembers you. See if you can’t get more details on what’s happening back on Dintash Mass.” General Tar appears crestfallen, but Chapel encourages him. “I know it’s hard being back, but you're the man for the job. Now, Harlan: I want you to dig up a few weapons, just in case there’s a conscription… let’s hope not, but I’d rather be prepared. Pet, you’re with me. I want to talk to you about something.”
The crew slowly breaks off to begin accomplishing the tasks the Captain set them. Chapel walks over to Petsune and bids him follow with a hand wave, walking into the captain's cabin. Chapel walks over to the map on the wall and stares at it while he speaks. “Ah, Pet… I hope it isn’t war. But, if it is, there’ll be a conscription, you can bet on it.”
Petsune watches the back of Chapel as he stares at the map. Chapel looks down, then turns to Petsune. “I have an idea, and I wanted your thoughts first, since the Coldor Cleave is your home. I don’t want to fight in a war against your people — against any people. If it comes down to it, I think we should desert — make a run for it.”
Petsune’s eyes widen. “Are you certain that’s a good idea?”
“Not at all. In fact, I’m certain it isn’t, but it might be the best option we’ll have. ‘Course I’ll put it by the rest of the crew before then, just in case we need a plan.”
Petsune walks up beside Chapel and stares at the large map of Yath. He places his finger on Dintash Mass, then drags it north-east until it rests on Misty Shoals Mass. Petsune wonders aloud, “A two-day flight… how many days is it to sail?”
Chapel watches Petsune’s finger on the map. “It’s about an 11- or 12-day sail, depending on the weather.”
“And how long to the Cleave?”
Chapel looks at the map in front of them. “Sailing or flying?”
“Both, I suppose.”
Now the Captain raises one eyebrow at Petsune. “Why? What’re you thinking?”
Petsune approaches the map, this time placing his finger on the Misty Shoals Mass and dragging it westward and slightly north until it points at the ice filled Northwest Waters.
Petsune taps the Cleave with his finger. “If it is to be war, we could send a messenger beak ahead to the Cleave, that way they’ll at least have time to prepare…”
“That’s true. Well, by sail, from here to the Cleave… I would say it’s about a month’s journey, if you factor in the need for making port two or three times.”
“And by bird?”
“That’s hard to say… at least half that, maybe faster. They would know more at a Roost. It’s not a bad idea though, to send a messenger beak I mean. If there is a conscription, it would mean the navy wouldn’t weigh anchor until a fortnight or more after the declaration, to give time for ships to respond.”
“So, what does that mean? For us?”
“Well, if we sail as soon as the draft arrives, we could be at Dintish Mass in, say, 8 days maybe.”
“But why go there at all, if we are going to desert?” Petsune wonders.
Chapel looks from the map to Petsune. “Because my father is the King’s Right Hand — he’s in command of the navy and is the King’s protectorate. He is as close to the king as you can get,” suddenly Chapel seems to focus inwardly, leaving things unsaid, “that is why this is my problem — If there is even a chance I can reason with him…”
Chapel looks away and Petsune tries to look into his eyes. “Is there though? From what you’ve said, he’ll happily wipe out the Coldor, if given the chance.”
“I don’t know… it’s the best plan I’ve got right now. I need to speak with him — to see if he is beyond redemption, to try and reason with him. I can’t just sit and watch,” then again, he grows quiet, “I’ll extend this last chance to him, to do the right thing. And I have questions that need answering… We’ll tell the crew when they’re all back aboard.”
Chapel turns and exits the cabin, leaving Petsune to stare at the map. He looks at the Coldor Cleave, cordoned off to the northwest corner of the map and he feels a pang of pain for his people. Both then and now his people have attacked first, striking at the three allied kingdoms. The war had started with The Shot — When the Cleave, his parents, publicly tried to assassinate Fellpost HelBenledore. Since The Captain revealed who his parents were, he has become even more convinced of Coldor’s innocence. He wanted to be sure, but there is still no evidence or explanation that exonerates his parents. And now that Coldor has successfully assassinated the king, well, he can feel doubt creeping in. It’s not as though he actually knew his parents, but could they really be responsible for the North War? And if the Coldor did assassinate King Bornidin the Young, then Prince Feyaz would be right to issue a declaration of war. Petsune prays a silent prayer to the Saints for wisdom and prays that his people aren’t the death-worshiping savages everyone makes them out to be. It’s not a question or prayer he has ever had before, but things are not looking good for the Cleave. He looks at Thune Mass on the map and thinks of Father Haltur, feeling more pain seem to pinch in his chest. If there is another war, there will be so much pain and death on both sides.
Petsune exits the cabin and sees some of the crew bustling about, emptying the hold of all its goods. Petsune walks across the gangway onto the dock and makes his way through the quiet markets. He walks past the familiar stands selling piles of grapples, oranges and whale fruit and the like; past stands selling fresh-caught gipp, lardfee, runnykit, and tagfin. Out of the market stalls, and into the streets where the shops are. There are cobblers, blacksmiths, carpenters, and tailors. There are guards though, more than usual for a mass of this size. Petsune is not looking at any of the shops or the guards, instead he keeps his eyes trained on the docks to his left. They encroach and recede on the street, following the raw edge of tower vines that is the end of the mass.
Petsune walks for a few minutes, out past the shops and into the houses. Finally, he sees what he is looking for, a pull-ferry that leads to a Church of the Deep. This church is smaller than the one on Thune Mass, probably because they are so close to Broadfell waters. The Church of the Deep is the primary religion of the Dintish Kingdom, while Broadfell favors the Sanctum of Souls, and the Order of Loss is popular in the Oullman. This is why Broadfell tends to be more rigid while Filkash tends to be more lax. Petsune steps into the ferry, briefly noting the craftsmanship. The raft appears to be shaped like a small shallowback, with the breathing trunks stretching into the air to hold the rope. Petsune pulls himself across the gap of water to the Church of the Deep. The building is a simple building, perhaps half the size of the one on Thune Mass. The face of the building is carved to look like a forest of tower vines.
The door swings inward and Petsune walks into a humble sanctuary. There are three congregants kneeling in the grooves of water, each silently praying. The Window is at the front of the sanctuary, but it is smaller and simpler. Petsune goes to the front and goes through the comforting and familiar rituals of the sacrament. First, he ingests the small cup of salt water to remind him of the toil of the Saints, then he takes the empty fish-bone cup and drops it into the well. It is weighted so it sinks, and Pet watches it descend until it is no more than a white spot in a dark blue void. Once he has finished at the front of the sanctuary, he kneels in the rearmost groove of water to pray. He petitions all four Saints to resolve the tumultuous situation without a war. Petsune grasps the small leather pouch he wears around his neck, feeling the familiar weight of his parent’s wedding bands there. Every Deepblood chooses something significant that will help center their mind and clear their focus. He prays to the Church of the Deep’s Saint Delód, patron Saint of Changing: “Please, change the path we are on. Change our hearts and our minds.” Next Petsune wraps his fingers around the vine belt that all Empty Hands from the Order of Loss possess, beseeching Wōde, the patron Saint of Stealing, to intervene: “Please, Saint Wōde, steal our malice and our hatred. Replace them with mercy and love.” Then, he places a hand over the dagger every True Soul of the Sanctum has, and he petitions Ründ, the patron Saint of Bending: “Bend our will, Saint Ründ, and bow our knee — to you, and to each other.”
Finally, Petsune holds his hands open and empty in his lap and he calls to Saint Vésh, the forbidden patron Saint of Ending — and the Saint of his people, the Coldor: “I ask for a peaceful end to this tension, one without bloodshed. Please, Saint Vésh… let there be a new beginning.” When Petsune finally opens his quivering eyes, he feels much lighter. He stays on his knees for some time more, until he hears someone kneel beside him. When he sneaks a surreptitious glance over, he sees a nondescript lady dressed in something like the robes of a Deepblood, though it’s difficult to tell. The light dances across her robes in shifting patterns, changing the look so he can’t tell if they’re Deepblood robes or not. She is sitting silently with her eyes closed, and Pet assumes she is praying. He decides to leave then, so as not to disturb her. He stands and feels the familiar dribble of water run down his shins. Sneaking one last glance at the lady, he feels he knows her. He also finds himself at peace for some reason — perhaps seeing others take strength from the Saints. Petsune quietly leaves the church and slowly makes his way back to the ship, chasing the reddish light from the setting Small Sun, and feeling more at ease than he has all day.
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