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3rd Day in the 1st of Delód’s Months, Rainy Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 127th Reckoned Year
Beyond the broad wake of morning,
I carry you with heavy heart.
Below the horizon I take you,
you who are now set apart.
And though I care more deeply,
more deeply than the sea,
I will not cling too tightly,
too tightly unto thee.
“Canticle for Life”, From Véshéntii, Written by Saint Vésh in the Unreckoned Years
Chapel pokes his head through the door to look in on Pet. “Hey, I’m heading up to the palace to try and get an audience with my father…”
Petsune doesn’t look up, instead he responds distractedly. “Alright.”
Chapel stares at him for a little bit, then withdraws. If Petsune had been paying attention he would’ve seen Chapel in a state he’s never witnessed before: anxious. Instead, he continues feverishly reading his parents’ logbook about the Coldor’s discovery of a great field of pure Saintstone, just north of the Cleave. He searches painstakingly through every word, but as he does, his heart continues to plummet deeper into his gut. Chapel closes the door to the captain's quarters and sighs loudly. Someone speaks behind him. “Is okay, Captain. I can come with you, if you like? You may want the distraction, I’m thinking?”
Chapel turns to Shushilah and says resignedly, “Thanks, Shush. But I think this is something I need to do on my own,” Shush nods as the Captain adds, “maybe see if you can coax our Pet out from his cave?”
Shushilah nods again. “I will see what I can do. Is going to be hard to tear him away from the book.”
Chapel begins walking toward the gangway and says back to Shushilah, “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” then crosses over to the dock. Shush watches the Captain leave, then turns to face the door to the captains quarters where Petsune has been sequestered away for the past two days. Quietly, he enters the cabin where Pet sits hunched over at the desk. Shushilah walks over to the desk and stands for a moment. Petsune doesn’t say anything, perhaps not even realizing Shush is there. He sits down at the chair beside the desk and Petsune finally notices him. “Oh, hello, Shush. I didn’t hear you come in.”
Shushilah looks fondly at Pet. “Is a comforting thing, yes? The words of your parents.”
Petsune wants to answer that he is comforted, but he can’t. If anything, reading through his parent’s logbook has made him despair. There are many hateful words and falsities his parents speak about Broadfell, calling them all greedy savages and violent animals. Instead of lying, Pet gestures to the book.
“Look at this,” Pet points to the words on the first page. On the first open page and bleeding onto the second is an immense list detailing the unions of Cleaves, then on the second page is some of Coldor’s history. Threaded throughout the history is unkind language and assumptions about the Fellbin and it breaks Petsune’s heart. He has lived his whole life hearing these types of things directed at him, how could his parents have made the same mistake? Shushilah kindly looks at the page, seeing the names and historical events, then he looks back at Petsune. “I’m thinking, is maybe time to take a break, yes? We are at the Royal Mass, home of the famous Sunken Markets! We should go out and be seeing the sights.”
Petsune glances down at the book and feels a sudden pang of shame. He has mostly ignored the crew since they found the logbook his parents kept. His mother must have hidden it just before her ship — this ship — was taken. It turned out to be much more than just a logbook. To Petsune, it is the only window he has into who his parents were, what they were like: it is a record of his heritage, and there is still so much he hasn’t read. But what he read sickens him. He has all but lost hope of finding proof of his parents' innocence. Instead, he fears he will find evidence of their treachery. This book could hold answers either way but hearing Shushilah ask him to go see the Royal Mass has caused his drive to evaporate. He has read enough to see there is no prospect to be had there. He feels a deep and painful sorrow settle into his chest. He hasn’t found an answer one way or the other, but what he has read will have to be enough for right now. Petsune looks back to Shushilah’s expectant face. “Of course, you’re right, Shush. I’ve been far too distant. Let’s go see these Sunken Markets.”
Shush’s face lights up. “Yes, let us go see them! Let us go see! This will be good, I’m thinking. And the book, is not going anywhere, yes?” Petsune stands and feels a crick in his neck from looking down at the logbook. The two of them walk out of the cabin as Pet rubs his aching neck. The sky is the gloomy gray overcast, typical of the rainy season, though it isn’t raining today. When the rains had finally cleared two days ago and the storms abated for a time, the Painful Lady was within viewing distance of Dintash Mass. Despite it having been their goal for nearly a fortnight, and a dream of Petsune’s to see, he didn’t behold it from a distance, having been preoccupied by the discovery of the logbook. Had he been at the bow alongside the other crew members, he would have seen the largest Mass in all the seas. The shape of the Mass resembles two whales meeting head on, with the curve of the tails being two different harbors of immense size: the Trade Harbor, and the Travel Harbor.
Petsune and Shushilah make their way across the gangway and step out onto the wooden docks. Shushilah sees Petsune marveling at the lack of actual tower vine Mass, so he explains. “The Dintish Mass is mostly man-made, yes? Only the palace is sitting on the true Mass, the rest is wood. And stone, maybe, I’m thinking.” Shushilah points to one of several large pillars of smooth stone.
As they continue walking closer, Petsune can see that the thick stone pillar is actually protruding up through the dock. Petsune stops and points at the base of the looming form. “Does that go to the bottom of the ocean?” He asks incredulously.
Shushilah nods and continues walking, hardly seeming impressed. “Is not so far here, not like the Deep Sea. Maybe, 6 or 7 towers, I’m thinking.”
Petsune rushes to catch up to Shush and asks, “And how deep is the Deep Sea?”
Shushilah continues walking, obviously knowing where he’s going. “Nobody knows that. Is never been touched — the bottom. Never.”
“Really?”
Shushilah shakes his head. “Never at the center. They have tried before.”
They continue to walk around the sweeping curve of the Trade Harbor, passing dozens of merchant vessels unloading and loading goods of every variety. Beyond the bustling docks of the Trade Harbor are the tradesman’s guilds that boast the most prestigious craftsmen in the kingdom. On the other end of the Mass, where the Travel Harbor is, in place of the guilds are the various churches and homes of the lower members of the King’s Court. Shushilah continues to lead the way around the Harbor until they finally reach the center.
As they reach the central gate inward to the guilds, Pet sees Shushilah stop walking. He is facing away from the gate and looking out toward the harbor. When Petsune approaches to ask him why he’s stopped, he sees a vast hole in the water where a set of steps descend into the sea. Petsune gasps and Shushilah speaks. “Is the Sunken Markets. A beautiful sight from above, but is breath-taking from below, yes? We go down now, I’m thinking?”
Petsune simply nods, mouth open and unable to speak. As they take the stairs below the water, Pet sees carts on pulleys shuttling goods up and down along the sides of the stairs. Shushilah continues to give Pet a rough tour of the Royal Mass. “They call these the Hundred Stairs, but there are not that many — I counted once.” Petsune becomes even more amazed when they reach the bottom of the Hundred Stairs. Here lay the Sunken Markets, submerged below the Trade Harbor. The hidden place of commerce is incredible, showing the unparalleled craftsmen of the Dintish guilds. The ceiling, walls, and supports are all made of Saintstone imported at great cost from Broadfell, giving the Sunken Markets an almost otherworldly glow. Coupled with large glass vats of glowing millie juice, the markets take on a spectral quality. Petsune is reminded of the Sanctum of Souls belief in a great feast in the afterlife. Shushilah smiles and gestures for Petsune to follow him.
A shadow passes across the market and Petsune looks up. The ceiling is a hazy white glow but when Pet truly looks, he sees it is translucent, allowing a view of the ships docking at the Trade Harbor above. Shushilah speaks, continuing his brief tour. “This is not the first Sunken Markets, the first were in the Shipwreck Straits. They were called the flooded markets, because it was not built under the water,”
Petsune is only able to half listen, marveling at the white hazy view of the ship hulls above them. Shush continues leading the way, seeming only mildly impressed by the sights. “the first became heavy — what is the word — ah, overburden, by all the commerce and the trade. Is causing the center of the tower vines to sink like a bowl, yes? And so, ‘flooded markets’. But this,” Shushilah says gesturing widely, “this was built for below the Trade Harbor. And so, ‘Sunken Markets’ — you see?”
Again, Petsune simply nods, still open mouthed. All thought of the logbook has been removed from his attention, and he is instead engrossed in the wonder of the Sunken Markets. Shushilah turns around to look at Petsune’s cave-like mouth and feels he has fulfilled the Captain’s request of him. He smiles and motions Pet to follow him. “Come, come, Pet. There is much to see!” And the two wander off through the market.
Chapel stands in a vast room of intricate architecture and adorned furniture. Every wall is gilded with Saintstone and gold. There is a bustle of activity nearby, likely due to the war. Chapel taps his foot nervously, looking at, but not really seeing, all the fine art and statues. Chapel’s father finally appears without a greeting. He looks much the same as Chapel remembers from the last time he checked in on him — unbeknownst to his father. Devishaw is a tall man of powerful stature, with a grizzled face and a gloom that hangs about him. Devishaw stands there, silently looking Chapel over, then nods to the shimmering eyeglass on his waist. “You still have it.”
Chapel doesn’t look at it but maintains his passionless gaze. “Not for sentimental reasons. Just practical.”
“Devishaw stares back at Chapel and eventually motions for him to follow. But Chapel holds a hand up to stop him. “No, I’m not following you back to your quarters. You can follow me to my ship.”
Instead of raising an eyebrow or questioning Chapel about having a ship, Devishaw simply goes quiet. Chapel speaks again, before his father has time to say no. “You’ve never come to me in all these years, and now I come to you. The least you can do is follow me to my quarters.”
Slowly and almost imperceptibly, Devishaw nods. Chapel turns and leads his father back toward the Trade Harbor where the Painful Lady is docked. They exit the immense Dintish palace, and leave the Royal grounds, passing through the thick walls that guard the King. Neither Dev nor Chapel say anything as they walk, but the silence doesn’t feel awkward — it feels charged, like a storm squid or perhaps poisonous, like a feverweep.
When they finally pass through all of the guild halls and trade houses, Devishaw speaks. “Why are you here, Chapel.”
Chapel doesn’t answer, instead leading him around the curve of the docks to the Painful Lady’s gangway. Dev pauses when he sees the ship, showing the first true sign of emotion. Chapel glances back at his father and sees him staring up at the branches of the Lady’s main mast. Chapel hopes to see pain or a flicker of remorse, something, but all he sees in his father’s eyes is vague recognition and confusion. Inwardly, he knows now this plan was hopeless, but he decides to try anyway. They cross the gangway and Devishaw looks around briefly. “It’s smaller than I remember.”
Chapel doesn’t respond, instead leading the way over to the captain's quarters. The ship appears empty of all crew, so Devishaw pointedly asks, “Just you on this ship? No crew? And no blue sails I see.”
Chapel enters the cabin and leans against his desk. “They’re sightseeing. Besides, what I have to say to you is private anyway.”
Devishaw raises one eyebrow the barest amount but doesn’t say anything.
Chapel continues, “You need to convince the King to stop the war.” Devishaw laughs cynically, but Chapel continues, “The King is inexperienced, so I know you have his ear. Advise him the war is not a good move, strategically.”
Devishaw holds up a hand, stopping Chapel. “Of all the directions I thought this might be going, this was not among them.”
“This war is going to be a slaughter; thousands will die with no recourse.”
“And did they show mercy to us when they slaughtered hundreds in the flooded markets? When they murdered Tiradel?”
Chapel steps toward his father. “Don’t you use her. She, more than anyone, would condemn your bloodlust!”
“You never even knew her.”
“I know her more than I know you.” Chapel cuts back.
The blow seems to land, as Devishaw goes quiet. He walks away from Chapel, over toward the map on the wall. Devishaw gazes at the map and speaks to Chapel without looking at him. “There are things at work here that you don’t understand. I can’t advise King Feyaz to rescind his first decree as king, especially a declaration of war. It would make him appear weak.”
Chapel speaks to his father’s back. “There has to be a way we can stop this before it gets bloody.”
The cabin goes quiet as Devishaw stares at the map. He speaks quietly without turning around. “And if I don’t want to?”
Chapel closes his eyes and takes a moment before speaking very carefully. “You know, there is something that’s been bothering me…” Devishaw turns as Chapel continues, “how did a group of Coldor get past all of the guards — past you — and kill the King?”
Devishaw stares at Chapel and the two lock eyes. Chapel refuses to speak, to give his father an easy out. Devishaw finally speaks, “The Kingdom will never be safe as long as those Coldor animals hide away in their corner, able to attack us whenever they please.”
Chapel looks away, despising even the sight of his father. He turns back to his desk and says softly, “What did you do…”
Devishaw moves closer to Chapel, anger in his voice. “This is bigger than you or me. That coward, Bornidin, didn’t have the guts to finish the Coldor in the North War.”
“And you did,” Chapel bites, “But he called you back, like a dog pulled off it’s wounded prey.”
Devishaw looks hard at Chapel, then speaks deliberately. “It’s a mercy to finish off a wounded animal.”
Now Chapel is beginning to understand. “Don’t call this mercy, this is slaughter.”
Devishaw doesn’t look away, meeting Chapel’s cool gaze. “Maybe it is, but it wouldn’t be anything less than what they deserve.”
Chapel holds his father’s gaze, seeing only a hateful man. “How can you hate them so much…”
“How can you not?”
Chapel asks the question he’s been wanting to ask, the thing that he has been dreading the answer to since he thought of the question in the Misty Shoals. “… Did you kill the king?”
Devishaw stares into Chapel’s sorrowful eyes, but he doesn’t answer. Chapel turns away, his heart breaking for so many different reasons. He speaks to his silent father, “When I heard of the king’s death, I worried you would be vying for war. The more I thought about it though, the less it made sense… How could a group of Coldor sneak into the castle and assassinate the king, right under the nose of the person who hates the Coldor more than anyone I know?” Chapel turns back to Devishaw, continuing to fill the silent cabin, “Then I wondered who would stand to gain from the king’s death, and it wasn’t the Coldor — it was you,” Chapel and Devishaw lock eyes again, “you knew blaming them would start a war, then you could manipulate King Feyaz into finishing what King Bornidin never did.”
Devishaw finally wavers slightly, looking away at the window in the rear of the cabin. “You don’t understand half of what you think you do. It doesn’t matter. It’s done now. The Coldor will be wiped out, and the kingdom will be safe.”
Devishaw walks over and opens the cabin door, but Chapel calls after him, “Don’t do this! The kingdom is safe now. Coldor isn’t a threat.”
Devishaw doesn’t turn back but he stops and speaks a parting word. “No… no, it isn’t.” Devishaw walks off, crossing the gangway of the Painful Lady, but Chapel doesn’t follow him.
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