Frostwane, 1321 ED...

She was losing light. The sun was beginning to bend down below the horizon, but Zyanya wouldn’t give up this one final kill before returning to camp. A marsh deer was in her sights, and it would be a treat. So Zyanya kept her movements quiet, downwind to not alert the creature.


She crept between the large canopy trees, keeping herself hidden behind the thick trunks. Eventually the deer stopped to drink from a river, and Zyanya took her chance. She knelt behind an glowing oil palm, nocking her arrow with ease and skill.


As she inhaled, pulling back on the string, the warm breeze brought the strong scent of moisture, decaying plant, and fresh vegetation through her senses. It calmed her. She took aim, quartering-away. Then she released, and let the arrow fly.


It met its mark, the arrow passing through as she intended. The creature cried out, and dashed away. But the wound was fatal, and it wasn’t long till it collapsed down along the river, the trail of blood running behind it.


Following the beast to its final stand, Zyanya began binding its limbs with the braided vine rope she carried, so she could hoist it onto her shoulders. But just as she was struggling to achieve a sense of balance while she stood, an unnatural silence fell over the forest. This is when she took the time to properly observe her surroundings.


Since the moment she’d spotted it, all her attention had been on tracking the deer. To the point where she’d neglected to notice her passage out of the Westlands and into the Eastlands. With fresh blood marking her. The perfect target for a pack of hobgoblins, if she wasn’t careful enough to find her way across the boarders again.


It would be worse when night fell, so against all her training and better judgment, Zyanya picked up her feet and began to run. The weight and heat of the deer slowing her down, but gaining her precious time against the descending sun.


Above her, monkeys leaped from their branches to higher perches, the distant shriek of hobgoblins slowly growing louder. They were far enough behind her, but they had caught on to the blood trail. Her thighs burnt as Zyanya force herself to move quicker, feet drenching in mud, legs nicked by low grown foliage. No matter the pain, she wouldn’t dare stop. Not as the bioluminescence around her became the only light at her disposal.


The one time Vee hadn’t gone hunting with her, was of course the one time she would have needed her goblin companion the most. To Zyanya’s relief, she rounded a large kapok tree marked with white and red paste, symbols all too familiar to her. She was in Abantu territory now.


She slowed to her usual gait, but still refused to stop. If she put the deer down now she wasn’t sure she’d be able to pick it up again. Besides, when night fell there were still other threats beyond hobgoblins, ones that roamed freely across territories.


Soon enough the familiar sound of her people became auditable through the trees. Their language being called and sang, as meals were prepared and the children played freely after their lessons. The smell of burning herbs was thick in the air as Zyanya pushed through the veins and into the open where tents surrounded a stone carved temple altar.


Zyanya smiled as her fellow tribesmen came to greet her, the little ones jumping at her feet at the sight of the deer. A couple of the women who were in charge of the food preparation, took the deer from her shoulders. It was to be skinned, cleaned, and parts of it cooked, while the rest would be salted and dried.


Loosing the weight was a relief, as she stretched her back, standing straight at last. She caught a glimpse of Tlalli eyeing her with an amused expression, no doubt wanting to hear all about how she caught the deer and what in particular made her late from the rest of the hunting party.


But before she could make her way over to her friend, a warm hand took her shoulder. Zyanya turned with confusion, but smiled at the sight of Mazatl. He was her guardian and mentor, the closest thing she’d ever known to a father. But he wasn’t his usual self just now, and the expression she read caused her smile to fade.


“Zyanya, you have been called before the Chief.” He spoke with intensity, but still his expression didn’t give away what thoughts troubled his mind.


“What is it—“ The shake of his head cut her off, there was no time for questions. A meeting with the Chief was a great honour, but by the way Mazatl ushered her on through the camp toward the Chief’s tent, Zyanya could tell there was something more to this.


Had they discovered her excursions into the Eastlands? Or could this possibly be about her magic? Either prospect left a void of uncertainty at their outcome, making Zyanya feel no more at ease. But they stood now before the largest tent of them all, and she was faced with the inevitability of it all. Whatever this was, she would have to face it without panic.


The interior of the tent was dim, candles lighting the rim, as herbs smoked in the centre. This is where the smell had been emanating from. Chief Euman sat behind the tendrils of smoke, his eyes closed in contemplation. This was a clear sign he had been deliberating over something dire.


All the possibilities began to cause waves in her stomach, but she had to calm her breath, and observe the traditional greeting. Of course, this didn’t stop the worry that she was in irreversible trouble.


Eventually, Euman opened his eyes, where they found their focus on Zyanya. She kept her head tilted down in respect, till he acknowledged her with a gesture to sit straight. When he did, she found herself studying his face desperately. Searching for anything to indicate what she was brought here for.


“Zyanya of the Abantu, you know you are among our strongest witch doctors.” Chief Euman addressed her, and Zyanya bowed her forehead to the ground.


“All-as-One, The Path we follow.” She replied as custom among her people when given a compliment.


“And after much observation of your other skills and dedication to our tribe, Mazatl and I have agreed you are to be trusted.” Euman nodded toward Mazatl, who stood back by the tent opening.


“Trusted in what, my Chief?”


“In delivering this.” He reached behind him and retrieved a strange wrapping of animal hide. He slowly began to unravel it, leaving Zyanya speechless. The inside of the hide was concealed another skin from a different animal, with intricate designs and markings. Soon she realized they were land marks…this was a map. An old one. Zyanya hesitated at first, but Euman let her fingers trace the boarder. Then she realized, this was no animal hide. This was hobgoblin.


“What…” The words were lost in as she began to trace the lines. This wasn’t just any map, it was a map focused on the Deep Domain. But the shapes were strange, in the open ocean there was what looked like land masses but they couldn’t possibly be. There were words scribed in rhyme and tracing the perimeter of the skin.


“This map has been passed from Chief to Chief for generation. To honour and protect its secrets. The secrets of our people.” Euman explained, seeing the wonder in her eyes.


“What is it that I am meant to do with it?” Zyanya asked in earnest, finally pealing her eyes from the scrawled markings.


“Deliver it, toward its destiny.”



 

~

The only reprieve Panthea had, was the sensation of her back resting against the cool stone of her cell. It had been a torturous week of travel to the slave compound in the Spenian capital, under the scorching sun in cramped cages. This was a far cry from the life she had known mere weeks ago, safely within her palace, surrounded by an oasis tucked away in the Duma Desert.


At first she had feared not having anything to connect her to the royal family, no matter what she claimed to her captors. But since crossing the boarder into the lower Midlands, it was a blessing. A young woman dressed in only her chemise, with only the price she might fetch keeping her virtue in tact, was at an even greater risk in Spenia if it was known she was Preçian royalty.


She had observed an auction one week earlier during one of their few breaks from the road. Today however, would be the first instance she would grace a stage and be bid upon. The thought made her chest clench, and she thanked the gods that some security concern had stalled the event, and the girls had been relocated to a large open cell. It was dug out bellow the ground, allowing for some relief from the heat.


There wasn’t much inside aside from stone walls and wicker mats, however Panthea spotted a stool in the corner. Seizing the opportunity to rest on something not quiet as hard, she enjoyed the quiet of sitting so far in the back. Nobody really bothered her, especially not since she gave up on demanding release and effectively refused to converse with anyone.


This didn’t last as long as she had hoped, watching as another young women walked over and plopped down onto the ground next to her. The dark hair, and destined gleam in her eyes, they were unmistakable. She wasn’t aware of what her name was, but knew they had bumped into one another at that last auction.


The traders were shoving the slaves to pick up their pace, and Panthea had tripped over her ankle chains, falling right into the dark haired girl. If it weren’t for her quick reflex in helping steady Panthea, both of them would have been whipped. Neither knew the first thing about each other, but seeing a familiar face tied to a memory of such simple good will…it felt comforting.


The girl looked up to her with a smirk, and Panthea hesitated only a moment before reciprocating. “Fancy seeing you here…”


“Likewise. Everyone changes so often, I never thought I’d see anyone I recognized again.” Panthea admitted.


“I doubt we’ll be here much longer. Then who knows where we’ll be headed next. Who we’ll become.”


“Who…were you…before?” The question lingered in the air a moment, and both of them knew Panthea was really asking who did she used to be. Because it was perfectly clear by now, that whoever they were before, was long gone. But admitting it…Panthea didn’t know when she would be willing to give up on one day going home.


“Who were you?” The girl asked in return, a playful smile replacing an expression of dread. Panthea glanced about to make sure no one else was paying attention, but most of the girls where curled up asleep taking advantage of the cool air. When she felt it would be safe, she turned back to her acquaintance.


“My names Panthea…I was a…princess…” Panthea bit her lip, and watched as the girl waited a moment before laughing lightly, leaning over to rest her head against Panthea’s knee.


“That’s a good one. I understand.” She nodded, clearly of the impression this was a joke or a mechanism to avoid thinking of her true past. Panthea had thought to press and reassure her how serious she was, but decided against it. Instead she just whispered…


“And you?”


“Right…Irena. Religious up, mostly.” The girl answered.


“Not being able to fulfill your religion? I understand that. It’s nice to meet you Irena.” Panthea placed her hand on Irena’s head, and it fondly. Her little sister used to do that for Panthea, whenever she was crouched in a temple praying for hours trying to cultivate a virtuous existence.


“You too Pan…” Irena smiled, and closed her eyes. They sat there in silence, dozing softly in the cool cell, waiting for the inevitable. Whether it would be a couple more hours, or the next day…the auction would come.


Pan didn’t know how long she was unconscious, it had been a dreamless slumber, but it was deep. It took Irena nudging her a few times before she was pulled back into the cell. It was dark out now, and the figure of a large man in a angled hat strode down the torch lit hall followed by the jailer and two others. They past ever other cell, desperate hands reaching out through the bars, ignored.


They stopped in front of the large cell at the end, the man walking slowly past the bars, eyes peering through toward the hollow faces of desperate girls. Then the door opened, and he stepped in. Immediately, he began pointing out girls, who where then hauled up and chained together outside the cell. Then when he made his way to the back, the eyes Irena and Panthea with a hardened brow, before nodding toward Pan.


“W..will the auction be starting soon?” Panthea swallowed hard.


“Auction is cancelled. We move you now.” Was all he said, before turning to leave, his cronies chaining Panthea’s wrists.


“What about the rest of us?” Irena spoke up, standing up and staying close to Pan’s side.


“Quiet slave.” He ordered, his hand swinging back to knock Irena’s nose, a trail of blood making its way down over her lip. Panthea clamped her hands over , to suppress her gasp and the quivering in .


She saw Irena sit down on the stool, wiping away at the blood, eyeing Panthea with a warning not to protest. They were parting ways, and Panthea had to hold her breath to keep her composure as she was lead with the rest of selected girls out of the cell, and to the courtyard of the compound. She took her next breath in the warm night air, as she was pushed into another cage at the back of a cart. But instead of the sobs so common, the girls were silent, and a look that made Panthea’s skin crawl, filled their eyes. A look of death, as though their souls were ripped from their bodies. Hearts still beating, but drained of life.


“It’s over…” One girl whispered, her dark skin and intricate braids telling of how she must have been from a Usavian merchant family.


“What do you mean?” Another girl questioned, probably the youngest of all of them.


“She means we are going to the Piranha Isles.” The oldest of the bunch replied, her voice monotone and renounced.


“We’ll be sold to pirates?” The young girl assumed, looking between the two women.


“If we are so lucky. If the gods are merciful, we might become and stay on the island. If not…” The Usavian trailed off, seeing the scared look in the girl’s eyes. And Panthea rested her forehead against her knee, trying to contain her own fear. For what else could be a worse fate then being sold off to some pirate? She hoped perhaps their ship would sink, and she might never have to know.

 

~

The teaspoon clinked against the rim of the fine porcelain cup, as Della Howard finished stirring the cream into her cup of black tea, the earthy and sweet aroma of pine and cocoa filling the sitting room. “So explain to me again, this juvenile concern that’s starting to wrinkle your forehead.” The older women insisted, not letting too much amusement show at how quickly Euphemia turned to her reflection in the window, over looking the New Haven palm trees bellow. The governor’s daughter pouted, continuing to rub the spot where her eyebrows knit, as she looked back over at her old tutor.


“That wasn’t very kind.” Euphemia composed herself, readjusting her posture.


“Oh please, you know I could not simply let you brood, you know what happens when you brood...” Della took a sip, and watched as Euphie lifted a brow as if in challenge. “...you become infinitely less attractive. Barely worth standing out in a crowd.” Euphemia scoffed, but neither could hide their smirk. This was all in good fun, they both knew. But there was some seriousness to what Della was getting at.


“I never brood. I’m stoic, mysterious...you taught me that.” Euphemia lifted a lemon biscuit from the glass bowl, and took a slow bite.


“I certainly didn’t teach you to stare into the unknown with a look of profound dread in your eyes. Now tell me what all this nonsense of not being ready to marry, is really about.” Della set her tea down in the saucer, the finality of it signalling all joking was over now.


“It’s not that I don’t want to marry...I just always have put the family first. Supported Father the way Mother would have wanted, and tried to look out for the girls in her place. Marriage has never seemed so important, but now the girls are far more grown up, and well...” Euphemia pursed her lips, swallowing back the lump in . She knew Della wouldn’t judge, this was one of the only places she could both figuratively and literally loosen her corset.


“Well what Euphie?” Della used the nickname common among her family, but that her tutor only used when she wanted Euphemia to know she cared for her as a friend first, not simply a former pupil of status.


“Well...” Euphemia looked over, and let her eyes water, but prohibited any tear from falling. “I am just so tired of it now. Taking care of them all, especially when Sophronia is getting so much more difficult. I really thought it was nothing but a phase, now I’m not so sure.”


“You want your own space, freedom. You want power not just duty.” Della spoke plainly, and it stunned Euphemia somewhat, to see how simply her tutor could articulate the yearning she felt.


“Yes. Yes I do.” That’s all Euphemia could say, there was no point in excuses or pretence now. Not when it was so clear between them.


“Well then you have your answer.”


“What do you mean? I feel no less then I did before.” Euphemia took up her own cup, and savoured the distraction of the nutty and sweet flavour.


“Marriage, Euphemia. That is precisely what marriage affords you.” Della stood, and walked toward the window, looking out over the district. “When you are married you will have your own home, one you can run however you see fit. You are young, so you won’t yet have to worry about children. But even if you are blessed early in union, the burden does not fall on you alone. There will be nurses and tutors. You will always carry duty with you throughout life, but as a married women of status, you have far more power then a daughter, a spinster, or a common harlot ever will.” They sat in silence a moment, as Euphemia ruminated over Della’s words. They held truth, and some reserved dread began to dissipate. But a tension that seemed to always settle over her heart, didn’t let up.


“So if Commodore Kellum were to propose...” She spoke then of the one suitor she hadn’t spurned away over the years. The one man who made her feel unburdened like the other high born ladies were. Thinking only of romance, and none yet of responsibility.


“Accept. You could scarcely find a better match Euphemia.” Della then took up her needle work, and returned to her chair. “He is young, fit, of a respectable station, and fine manners. Many your age marry old but wealthy, fowl tempered men. You should be blessed with such a prospect as the Commodore.” Euphemia couldn’t help but blush. She did agree, he was unlike any other suitor she’d had.


“Now with all that settled, I think it’s about time you showed me a piece of what you plan to preform at the banquet. Your time to practice is running short.” Della nodded, and Euphemia took a sip of tea to sooth , before standing with the grace and composure of a marble statue.


She let the verse role out, her voice carrying and floating about the room. Della closed her eyes, revelling in her handiwork. For certain Euphemia had natural talent, so divine it was clearly a gift from birth. But without Della’s training and expertises, Euphemia’s voice would be wild and unkept, unpredictable, and limited. She graphed her student wings, so eloquent that the wind carried Euphemia high, higher then her mortal feet could take her in this moment.


“Very proficient. By that night you might even bring people to tears.” Della smirked, and Euphemia scowled. “Now now, what did we just say about brooding?”


The laid back afternoon would not last forever. When the pot was empty, and the sun had begun to set, Euphemia knew it was time she made her way home. With a hand from the coachman, she took a step up into her carriage, and waved back at Della who stood at her front door. The trip up the hill through their district, to the governor’s mansion, was not a long one. But she almost wished it had been, so that Euphemia might bask in the warm evening air a short while more. Alas they came to a halt, and she could feel her walls begin to build again, from the little she had allowed them to descend.


The foyer of the Rohan estate was decedent, marble floors and gold painted banisters adorning the main staircase. Passing her bonnet and parasol to a footmen, Euphemia regained her severe beauty. Laughing emanated from the right, pulling Euphemia with it and into the lime wallpapered sitting room, which observed the gardens. Demetria and Sophronia were enjoying their evening, the elder in the middle of a romance novel, the younger seemingly acting out a dance scene described in the said volume. Their giggling ceased when Euphemia cleared sharply.


“Euphie you’re back!” Demetria smiled, quickly setting down her book to give her sister a kiss.


“How were your studies this afternoon, Demi Dear.” Euphemia returned the gesture, and tucked a strand of hair affectionately behind her little sister’s ear.


“Same as always.” Sophronia interjected, slumping down on the couch, a look of deflation replacing the carefree nature she had just inhabited.


“Sophronia, what did I tell you about slouching?” Euphemia scolded, placing her hands on her hips. Sophronia simply rolled her eyes, but it was just the right amount of attitude to spur Euphemia into a lecture of proprietary and posture. To the youngest Rohan daughter’s relief, the sound of a carriage coming down the road parallel to the gardens, caught their attention. The girls all hurried to the window, and recognized the family seal. It was one of theirs.


“Father is still home so who could that be?” Demetria wondered, craning to get a better glimpse.


“That road leads directly to town, so Father must have sent the carriage for some reason.” Sophronia mumbled. The carriage was turning out of view.


“It’s simple. Father has arranged a guest for this evening. I don’t know why he wouldn’t have told us, told me at least. But I do remember seeing a correspondents on his desk the other day. From the Wintanberg Navy Outpost in Saltstone.” Euphemia straightened, the carriage was now rounding to the front of the mansion. “It must be Ben–Commodore Kellum.” Euphemia corrected herself quickly, and clapped her hands quickly. Both younger girls stood on command, though Sophronia was reluctant. “To your positions girls.” With ease they took their most advantageous poses, to highlight their accomplishments.


Demetria put her book away and took a seat at the pianoforte. As she filled the room with a pleasant tune, Euphemia reached toward the bookshelf and retrieved a naval diary of the Admiral she knew Benedict most admired when he was young. She opened it to the entry she had last stopped on, and presented herself gracefully on the love-seat. She looked up, only to find Sophronia on the coach, adjusting her bodice to try and expose her cleavage in a more pronounced manner. No useful occupation, even when a basket of needle work was sat so close by. However there was no time to reprimand the younger, as the front door could be heard opening, along with footprints toward the sitting room. The door opened, and a footmen came in.


“Commodore Kellum, Ladies.” He announced, and stood aside for the strapping young man to enter the room. He was dressed in uniform, and looked exceptionally handsome as he bowed, slowly looking up into Euphemia’s eyes as he straightened.


“Good evening. I hope I’m not intruding.” He smiled, and Euphemia couldn’t help her blush.


“Not at all Commodore, you are always welcome in the Rohan household. Please, have a seat, you must be exhausted.” Euphemia replies formally, a smile of her own playing at her lips. He moved to take the chair to her left, but Sophronia didn’t hesitate to shoot up from her attempt at a sensual position. She took his arm, pulling him close to her.


“Come sit with me Ben, it’s so much more comfortable here on the coach.” She pulled him over, before he could voice a polite rejection of the offer. Euphemia didn’t miss the look of apology in his eyes as he looked back over at her, or the expression of gloating that masked Sophronia.


The awkward silence didn’t last too long, to Demetria’s relief as her attempts to dark conversation or liven the mood with her music, were fruitless. Nothing could cut the tension between those three, nothing say for the eventual arrival of Governor Rohan. His commanding presence filled the small sitting room, and Benedict couldn’t help but stand immediately to bow again in the customary naval way.


“Kellum! It’s a pleasure to have you.” Rohan patted the young man on the shoulder, and turned to Euphie.


“I do apologize for not informing you of his attendance Euphie, I know you would have preferred to have the house better prepared to receive guests. His schedule at Saltstone was just so uncertain, I told him to come whenever he was available without pretence.” Her father patted him on the back again, and it became clear to her there was some sort of understanding or knowledge between the two that wasn’t being disclosed.


“Not at all, the Commodore’s duty to the crown comes first.” Euphemia assured. She clasped her hands, feeling them tremble. What could Benedict and her father possibly have to discuss amongst themselves? If it were strictly political, Benedict would have gone straight to her father’s study. The only other possibility made her heart quicken. Could he really be planning to ask for her hand in marriage?


The question loomed over Euphemia, even as dinner commenced. Sitting by Kellum at the dinning table, every gesture he made caused Euphemia to blush. He was very attentive, and she could feel the way her father watched them. Sophronia also couldn’t keep her attention off them, evens with sweet Demetria discussing the dress she was having made for the banquet. Her eyes were daggers in Euphemia’s side, and soon she could no longer keep her snide remarks at bay.


“Isn’t it more appropriate to shift the conversation by now, how would it look for you to monopolize the Commodore all night?” Sophronia addressed the table, and Euphemia looked over from where she was asking with Kellum about his journey.


“As the eldest lady of this house, it’s my duty to direct conversation where appropriate. It is not so much a formal dinner, what with only one guest. Even so, I must be attentive, to preserve the reputation of our hospitality.” Euphemia smiles, and turned back to Benedict.


“You are so very eloquent, I fear anything would appear as though poetry from your lips.” His eyes drifted to then, and Euphemia’s stomach clenched.


“Is there such think as too much eloquence though? Surely there must be a limit when words drift from thoughtful to disingenuous.” Sophronia commented again, and the bluntness even stirred Demetria and their father away from their discussion of silks, the only one bothering to listen to the poor girl’s excitement.


“Now Sophie...” Governor Rohan began, but a sudden banging cut him off. It was followed by raised voices, one of the servants protesting to something. It grew loader as the commotion approached the dinning room, both men raising from their seats. Demetria clasped Sophronia’s hand, startled by whatever lay outside the room.


Euphemia grasped the arm of her chair tightly, watching as Kellum’s hand gently rested above the handle of his sabre. Then came another profound bang, as the doors to the dinning hall burst open. The girls shrieked, but Euphemia tried to maintain her composure.


“Let me through I said!” The voice was desperate and demanding, the figure of a man surely not much older then Benedict, but his hair was matted, and his uniform was tattered and filthy. He was a sailor, the stench of the docks heavy on him. His eyes were wide, darting about the room as he clutched some sort of cylindrical canister strapped to his chest.


“What is the meaning of this?” Euphemia’s father demanded, as the butler hurried from behind the man, to his master’s side. He whispered something in the Governor’s ear, something that seemed to rattle Cornelius Rohan deeper then Euphemia had ever witnessed.


“Governor!” The man exclaimed, hurrying around the table and past the two youngest girls. He grabbed onto her father’s arm, his hands crumpling the fabric. But Euphie’s father didn’t flinch away, instead he grasped the man’s shoulder and looked him square in the eye.


“Is what my butler says true?” Was all Rohan asked, and when the man desperately began to nod with the sound of a sob escaping him, the Governor had his mind made up. “Thatcher, bring his man a chair, along with food and wine. Immediately.” He turned to the butler, who nodded and with a final wary glance at the strange man, hurried from the dinning hall calling out instructions to the other servants.


For a long while the dinner party sat in silence, as the man ripped the buttery garlic bread in his hands before dunking it in his stew, and stuffing himself desperately. It was like this had been the first truly good meal he’d had in months, possibly years. Sophronia and Demetria shared looks of disgust, and Euphemia could feel the energy of weariness radiating off of Kellum.


Governor Rohan however, looked impatient more then anything. But it was Sophronia who broke the silence. “For goodness sakes, would someone explain what this tramp is doing in our dinning room?” Everyone turned to her, and the man stopped eating.


“Sophronia Rohan! Watch your tongue!” Euphemia scolded, and the Governor ran a hand down his face in exhaustion.


“This man was a crewman aboard one of the merchant ships employed by the colonies. A ship believed lost with no survivors.” Rohan relented.


“Aye…We were devastated, I were the only unlucky bastard to have lived.” The sailor lowered his bread, and his eyes glossed over with dread. “Not far from New Haven when it hit.”


“What hit?” Kellum learned forward and the man turned his gaze.


“The storm.” His fist crushed the hard crust and crumbs of bread littered the table. “I can still see it as clear as day before me, blood dripping from the horizon, before being engulfed by the blackness of the underworld.” He grasped his head, sobs of terror shaking him, as if he were still sitting in the face of his impending demise. “Then those demonic creatures…there was something wrong with them…they did not bleed red…and their eyes….those eyes…” Demetria clutched onto Sophronia then, clearly appalled and frightened. Governor Rohan could see it was time he take this discussion to a more private location.


“My Dears I think its time we said goodbye to the Commodore, and you went to bed.” He commanded calmly, and Euphemia nodded despite the look of annoyance covering Sophronia. Demetria seemed eager to leave.


“With all due respect Sir, we have no reason to believe that this man isn’t simply mad…” Kellum spoke up, Euphemia’s hand coming to rest on his arm, hoping to restrain him.


“I am sure Father knows what he’s doing. Best we leave him to it. Come girls.” Euphemia stood up, delicately folding the silk napkin on her lap and placing it by her plate. She clapped her hands, and Sophronia and Demetria both stood, though one more reluctant then the other.


She ushered her sisters from the room, and insisted Kellum say goodnight to the girls before they retire, like a gentlemen. He relented only when he saw the look in Euphemia’s beautiful eyes that said he’d be wise to trust her.


Out in the hall, he bowed and bid goodnight to the younger girls. Sophronia wished to see him off but Demetria pulled her along to the stairwell, not wanting to be alone with some stranger about the house. To the youngest’s dismay, this left Kellum and Euphemia utterly alone.


“I suppose that’s it then…but it doesn’t feel right leaving you young ladies…” Kellum let out a long sigh, as they lingered before the door. Euphemia felt a smirk play at her delicate mouth, but contained it. Her father existed the donning hall with the sailor, and payed the two young people little attention. They were huddled in whispered discussion, heading for her father’s study.


“I know how keen you were to learn of that sailor. Concern for your fellow seaman perhaps? Or fear for my dear father?” Euphemia said no more, not even at the look of questioning on Kellum’s face. She simply slid her hand into his, and lead him past the stairwell and down a servant’s corridor. It was empty at the present, knowing her father would have instructed Thatcher to dismiss everyone for the night after they had served that man.


They quietly stalked down the hall, and turned down a corridor before stopping by a clock. It was dark around them, so much so the soft blue wallpaper was unrecognizable. Euphemia slid her hand over the wood work, and stopped at a certain divot, and with a click, she stood back. The clock swung back, revealing a hidden latter.


“What…” Kellum began, but Euphemia raised a finger to her lips.


“We must be quiet Ben…” Then she took his hand again and lead his through the opening and up the latter. Up and up it went till they found a small enclosure where they could sit before a vent. “I found this when we were just girls…” She whispered, before a more pronounced voice sounded.


“Now show me this treasure your captain was so willing to die for.” Rohan demanded, and both Benedict and Euphemia leaned closer to the vent. Their cheeks were nearly touching, the heat of his skin causing chills over her own. She was thankful it was so dark, that way he wouldn’t see the blush that danced over her face. This was entirely unladylike, if anyone knew this would be detrimental to their reputations.


However the young commodore was far too absorbed by the discussion between the two men in the study, to acknowledge the lack of propriety between he and the governor’s daughter. “There you see Sir? Just like I said. The Queen’s insignia.”


“This parchment is of excellent quality. I’m surprised the map hasn’t sustained more damage.” They watched with strained eyes through the vent, as Cornelius bent over something laid out on his desk. Euphie could only assume this was what was in that cylinder the sailor was carrying. He was very unwilling to part with it when Thatcher was trying to stop him from entering the dinning hall.


“Aye, but don’t you see? It’s like it’s unfinished. That there is the eastern coast of Jiā-Hwan, and then part of Gelboldihr…but what is this gate…” The sailor trialed off, and Governor Rohan nodded. Euphemia had no idea what was so peculiar, but whatever it was it left creases in her father’s forehead she hadn’t seen since her mother passed away.


“The instructions are vague as well…yes…something about alignment…” Rohan traced his finger over the paper. “This map isn’t like anything a licensed cartographer would publish. But it’s marked by the Royal House of Wintanberg.”


“You don’t think it’s…” The sailor looked up with astonishment.


“Yes. It must be a fragment of the map to the First Pirate King’s treasure. Specifically the fragment rumoured to be on the Queen’s treasure ship that sank near eighty years ago.” Rohan stood up, and walked across to a bookshelf. He retrieved some volume Euphemia couldn’t make out, and flipped through it till he found the page he wanted. He passed the book to the sailor.


“They call them princes among thieves. They call them knights of the seas. No nation can rival, the wealth of their king. They tell you young sailor, be wary the treasure so deep and beguiling.” The sailor recited. Euphemia recognized that poem, she’d heard it years ago. It was from a book titled Tales of Firetide, written by some famous Gente author before being translated to common tongue.


“No one ever dreamed these stories could be true. Now it’s clear why your captain dared risk his life.” Rohan patted the sailor on the shoulder. “You have done a great service to The Empire. We at New Haven will surely be well rewarded for returning this treasure to her majesty’s rightful possession.”


“Aye, but I wish I’d known where the old man had gotten it.” The sailor lamented.


“No need to worry, it’s here now. I’ll have Thatcher make you up one of the guest rooms, and find you some clothes more suitable for a guest of honour at the festival.” Rohan rolled the map back up, and placed it in the cylinder. Then he opened his office safe, and secured the treasure inside.



 

~

Xia Yuning. Xia Yuning. She repeated the name over and over. It was her line to sanity, as she lay over the large driftwood. The hot sun had beat down on her all day, sure to leave a burn on her pale skin. Now as it set bellow the horizon of the ocean, she turned her head in the direction of her target. Her tongue swept over her dried and cracked lips, attempting to coat them in moisture. It was to no avail, her plan would only work after all, if she was visibly within the grasp of dehydration.


Xia Yuning. 18 years old. Female. From an abusive family, and took the very first chance to stow away on a trading ship headed for Newhaven. Thrown overboard when a storm hit the ship, left stranded in the middle of the Kerau Sea. Xia Yuning.


She ran her secret identity over in her mind again and again. There was never room for failure on missions. But this had the desperation only a personal vendetta could fuel. The kind that could keep you at an inch from death, the will power to fight just a little longer.


When she'd first become a part of Sicarius, she could remember being lead down the dim halls of the temple, and presented before the elderly Priest Khufu and Priestess Meritites. For the first time since she was thirteen, she finally knew the true circumstances surrounding her father's death. Perhaps she should have been in a rage, or an unconsolable mess. She wasn’t.


When they'd told her about their informants spotting him convening with a member of a local cult prior to his death, that they suspected the cult known as Azure Moon had something to do with his death…Somehow the knowledge draped a sense of calm over her. Everything started to click together like a puzzle.


Because of their actions, Azure Moon had left her and her brother helpless, starving, almost dead…she couldn't forgive them for what they had done to her family. To who knew how many others. Azure Moon was a group she had to take down, no matter what it took. 


That’s why she'd volunteered for this mission. No matter what words of caution bestowed by Kahina The Diviner, it would not stifle her resolve. No matter what, she would locate and assassinate one of Azure Moon's highest ranking Jiā-Hwan leaders.


One of Sicarius’ informants had heard that a member on board The Nightingale, a rather well known pirate ship, had ties to Azure Moon in the past. It was their best lead, and he may very well be able to help her find where the leaders were hiding. She had no intention of stopping at her single target. No…if any of the Azure Moon crossed her path she was ready to take them out. But to do so, she would have to find a way to get on board that pirate ship. Find a way to stay with the crew until she knew who she was looking for, got the information she needed, by whatever means necessary.


Xia Yuning. 18 years old. Female. Xia Yuning. 18 years old. Female. Again and again she ran the name through her mind, till the unmistakable flag of The Nightingale came into view. She played her part well, calling out in sobs for help, doing all she could to get the attention of the vessel. She even used a shining pendant given to her by Kahina, to reflect a light right into the eyes of the man perched in the crows nest.


Finally calls of ‘man over board’ were audible as ropes were thrown down and the ship pulled up along side her. She faked weakness and a faltering consciousness, as she was scooped up by some strong sailor who smelt strongly of sweat and sea air. She was laid down on the deck, where she coughed up a mouth full of water, placing the cherry atop her performance.


“Mero, is the lass alright?” Asked one of the men, placing down what looked to be a toolkit.


“Aye, she just needs to get the sea out of her lungs.” Reassured the man who saved her, one hand slapping her back to make sure that was the last of it.


“It’s bad luck to have one of those on board…” Mumbled a young boy, followed quickly by the sound of a thud. “Ouch! Noona!”


“I think it’s best I take her down to Reki…” A warm woman’s voice spoke in common tongue, and the young assassin looked up to meet the woman’s eyes as she knelt down to her. “What’s your name Dear?” But before she could recite the moniker she had so meticulously rehearsed, the sound of her name caused her heart to drop into her stomach.


“Gu Ziwei?” She looked passed the woman to a handsome young man pushing past his crew mates, a look of astonishment on his face. It couldn’t be…


“Haoxuan…” Her vision actually did begin to blur that time, her body weakened by malnutrition and dehydration, it was too much to process seeing her childhood friend before her. The one person who could derail her entire mission. Her vengeance. She couldn’t let that happen. Instinctively Ziwei through herself into Haoxuan’s arms, shacking and sobbing. “Help me…help me…” She begged, eyes closing as she rested her head on his chest.


Just as shocked to see the little girl he was always fond of, now a young woman half drowned laying on his deck…he had to do something. He could only think to hush her sobs, and ignore the questioning looks of the crew. He would explain it all to Kazuma later. “There, there mei mei…” Haoxuan whispered, and scooped her form into his arms.


“We’ll be docking in Jiā-Sing soon. Everyone back to their posts.” Bellowed a voice, and Haoxuan looked over to Kazuma as he rolled up his sleeves. He was stressed, it was evident. Hao knew this would go over smoother if he didn’t push any of the young officer’s buttons. “I’m trusting that you’ll have her thoroughly interrogated when Reki is finished.” Kaz added, reaching out to grab Haoxuan’s arm as he passed.


“Of course.” Hao nodded, and Kaz only paused a moment before nodding in turn and patting his friend’s back. They had to worry about port now, and making sure Ethan didn’t kneel over from the stress of managing it all on his own. They hadn’t planned to take a detour during the storm, let alone have to head straight back to the Piranha Isles so soon.





Yuni slid through the dark and crowded market of Jiā-Sing, adjusting her disguise and reminding herself she was Sochun now. A young and charming lad. The wrap around her chest itched, but she had to ignore it for now. It had been a few months now, since she set out on this mission for the Abandoned Barnacle. She followed the word of a condemned pirate the whispers of a trade vessel known as El Broosha, and the surviving first mate Chu Chunho who now captained his own ship, the Broken Rose. However it was mostly known to docked in Spenia, and the only ships going that way were pirate vessels.


Passing through the red light district, Yuni in a nervous breath. He had to be careful, what with the ladies of the night always eager to seduce a young sailor out of his coin. Black marketeers and pick pockets also abounded, meaning Sochun has to be cautious. The sooner they got to the docks the better.


Just as they could see the light of the port lanterns at the end of the smoky haze of the market, the force of something pulling them sideways caught them off guard. Suddenly they were up against a wall, and pressed up against them, was a voluptuous women in a wrap dress tied low enough to accentuate her s with just the right amount of tease.


“Now what’s a handsome young man like you running off so quickly for?” She purred, leaning in so trailed wisps of kisses over their ear.


“I–I–I…” Sochun began to stammer, flustered and in a rush to get away. The women pulled back, with a look of mischief on her lips. “I am rather caught up in an important job My Lady.” Something in the woman’s eyes flickered, as if such a common title of respect was something not once bestowed upon her in her life. But the look vanished and was replaced with lust once more.


“Yes, I’m sure I can help you with that job myself…” Her hand slid down Sochun’s torso, and over the front of their trousers. Sochun quickly clutched her hand, before she grasped what was there. Or more accurately, what wasn’t there. She looked surprised, but Sochun also didn’t want to offend the women.


Completely operating on frantic impulse, Sochun switched their positions, pressing the women up against the wall instead. “You are surely a jewel to revel in. But I have a terrible mission I must attend to at sea. I would not wish to tie you to my burden.” Sochun used a slightly altered line they had heard from a different sailor, one well acquainted with the ladies. They had crossed paths on a previous vessel Sochun had investigated, coming away with no news other then the rumour that this port had been the last known sighting of The Nightingale who was on route to Spenia.


“Burden…” The women looked truly curious now, and placed a hand on young sailor’s cheek. “You’re so sweet. How could you be so filled with conflict?” This was something the voices of Yuni’s old life had asked. Their hand went up to take hold of the woman’s, and looking down they saw a marking on her inner wrist. It was a well known tattoo, one only used by scholars. This lady of the night, was once well educated and an upstanding member of society. How did she end up here?


“You deserve so much better…” Sochun found the words leaving their mouth before they could catch them.


“Excuse me?” She pulled her hand away, the look of shame but also restraint in her eyes.


“I apologize My Lady…I only meant…us street urchins don’t deserve a women like you.” Sochun would probably regret it, but they pulled the one gold coin they had from their inner pocket, and placed it in her hands. “This is all I have, and I truly must be going. But I promise when I return…” Sochun searched for the right phrase. “I promise I will treat you how you deserve.”


The women smiled, and leant up to softly kiss the lad’s cheek. “You know…some of you street urchins deserve a lot more then you think.”


“I–I’m Sochun by the way.” They stammered, but sudden flash of excitement filled them. Women like her could get their hands on all the street level talk. Perhaps she could help them in future.


“Citra…” She purred, leaning up so hovered only inches from Sochun’s. “I’ll look forward to a proper encounter, young Sochun…”


When they emerged from the haze, they were glad for the cool sea air. Yuni let herself blush after the encounter, she’d never flirted with a woman before. Of course she was almost certain to need to in future. She also truly believed the women deserved more then being prayed on by scum. At the very least, she deserved the respect courtesans were given.


The guise of Sochun took over once more, and they hurried over the post master. The realization that no ships were recruiting new crew members damped Sochun’s hopes. But to their luck, The Nightingale just returned to port.


Skidding past sailors and stacked crates, Sochun maneuvered across the dock till they were sanding before the vessel Yuni had been tracking. So close. They were so close.


A tanned blond man walked calmly down the ramp, and passed an open book to a Jiā man leaning on a barrel nearby. They began discussing something about its contents, and Sochun gathered it must be a supplies log of some sort.


“Excuse me, sir…” Sochun spoke up, clearing their throat. “I..I was wondering if you would consider hiring an extra hand?”


“Sorry lad we aren’t currently looking for new crew members.” The Jiā man answered with a nod, looking back down at the book.


“Please sir? I could do anything, absolutely anything you need, I don’t care it is.” Sochun launched forward, grabbing the jacket sleeve of the blond fellow. He looked over shocked, and Sochun quickly pulled away. “I apologize.” The man looked Sochun up and down, before leaning over to his companion.


“Well Minhyuk, I suppose we have been lacking a cabin boy since Junkyu’s promotion…”The blond looked to the man known as Minhyuk, who looked up from the book and back at Sochun.


“Well if you’re alright with it Ethan…Kaz probably won’t object too heavily. He’s much too preoccupied with his brother right now anyway.” The man shrugged, and both shared a look of agreement.


“Listen here. If we give you a chance, you have to know the pay won’t be great at the start. Very soon we will be embarking on a long voyage, we know not yet where it will take us. So you must be ready for anything.” The blond man known as Ethan gave a pointed look, and Sochun nodded.


“Where are we headed? Around Spenia perhaps?” Sochun tried to squeeze in the burning question, while keeping a casual facade.


“Well yes, very possibly. Can you handle that? It will be a lot of chores but if you work hard you could make crewman in a couple years.” Ethan pointed, with a wiggle of his finger. Sochun couldn’t contain the wide grin, and quickly grabbed the older man’s hand, shaking it with excitement.


“Oh most definitely! I can’t tell you enough how grateful I am for this opportunity!” Ethan nodded a slight grimace, prying his hand away.


“Welcome to The Nightingale, lad.” Minhyuk chuckled, patting Sochun’s shoulder firmly. This was it. The beginning of something that would shape Yuni’s entire life as she knew it.
 

This chapter took a lot longer then I expected to post! I apologize! After my last update with you guys I got covid and an ear infection on two different occasions and just didn’t have the energy, plus the holiday season was pretty busy at work. Thankfully I got this finished eventually! The chapter didn’t take as long as finished the soundtrack. But I am happy with how it turned out! I hope you enjoy and let me know what you are most excited to see next!