[h1]Kingdom of Akron[/h1] [h2]Port Arkron[/h2] To sail in the shadow of the great galleons of the Arkronian navy was a sight to behold. To be in its wake was a terror to sail. The great sails of the mighty sailing ship were as high as a city wall, spanning outwards far beyond the deck railing. Its towering aft and fore castles looming watchfully over the deck and sea, clad in plates of decorative and armoring bronze. The ship's planks were lacquered heavily with black pine tar. In the same way a dragon's wing soars out from its body, the great and immense red banner of the empire flew unfurled and waving in the wind far beyond the reach of the deck and to wrap around the aft castle as the winds drove it to and fro. Standing at the rail of their schooner, the young prince Edward starred up at the great rising barrel chested hull of the great Arkronian ship. His beak hanging open as his eyes were held high at its immensity. The sailors on deck moved about him. They had seen much, and such a size was not unusual. There was in the Empire many things much bigger. The shadow of the immense ship loomed heavily and engulfed the Waxward. And soon in the distance the great towers that would herald the entrance to Port Akron would rise from the sea, burning. “Good prince, please have caution. Yer leanin' over t'rail.” said one of the knights attending to the family. With a gentle hand he took him by the shoulder and pulled him back. With a gulp Edward floundered for a moment, believing in that dizzying moment as he looked up at the immense ship several yards off deck he was indeed about to fall into the sea. He momentarily raised his voice to scream before realizing in that moment he was being pulled back. In his tension and anxiety the feathers on the back of his head rose in alert. “Sir Mathaies!” he exclaimed blustering with a squeak, “What'r ye doing?” “Keepin' ye' safe, m'lord.” the knight bowed. He was unlike the crew, a human with a dull and unassuming face. But he looked down at the Avan with sharp and parental eyes. He looked to be in middle age, and he clasped the hilt of his sword with a broken hand, his index finger overlapping his middle. “A-ah, fair 'nuff then.” Edward intoned with a blushing voice. He turned back to look at the great Arkronian galleon and said with a cheer: “But it's s'big!” “Ay, all'is large in Arkronia.” “But why so?” asked Edward. “They's a people o'large intent.” replied the knight. “Yea'v been there?” asked the prince. Mathaies nodded, “Some years ago 'ey was the levee yer gran'father sent t'the capital as part'o 'is obligations. F'er nearly th' twenty years o'my young service as squire t'an ol' knight o'the court I went with a mask. Fer in Arkronia humans are seen as less then. T'was nearly required more o'less t'pretend t'be a'pious Avan t'some ol' god t'not shovel horse shit.” “'An did ya?” Edward asked. “Nay, avoided that.” laughed Mathaies, “Now I be servant t'year father I doubt t'be as risk. He knighted me, the'fore I have some privileges. An' I served m'peonage.” “What did ye do in t'empire?” Edward asked as he wandered along the deck rail watching the great galleon. From the deck of the much larger ship gray faced strangers looked down with disdain. On the Avan vessel they had been obliged to raise their sails to match the speed of the lumbering treasure ship. The threat of the glint of their superior's weapons obliging them to do so or face some unspoken repercussions upon them. The young prince did not understand the meaning behind this, and went about in simple astonishment of the great vessel. “T'was well after t'last rebellion.” Mathaies explained, “Though m'master was called t'fight in it. The time I was called in f'er duty was 'least a time a'peace. Fer our'part was partook in obligin' the further peace in th' realm an'paradin' about like dandies.” “Did y'march in the palace?” asked Edward excitedly. Mathaies nodded. “How was'it?” “Immense.” “Ay, I hear so!” “It strikes many a'terror in some.” “So I hear.” They reached the bow of the ship, where king William sat. Idly puffing on a pipe in his beak. He stared ahead out down the bow sprit. There rising out over the distance was the towers of the port of Port Akron. Their white stone rising in a faint glow in the late afternoon sun light. In the middle distance several large ships plied the waters heading toward the port. Edward looked on, amazed at the number of large vessels cutting through the waters. “Port Order.” William said flatly, referring to the city by their dialect of Corvid. He took a long pull on the pipe. “What'll we be doing there?” asked Edward. “We'll stay a'while.” William answered, “Declare ourselves, rest fer awhile. Check t'see if t'Waxward is right enough fer t'river an'if we can take her up it. Or we move things t'a barge.” Edward cooed interested at the thought of the experience and sat down next to his father to watch. Mathaies hovered behind them like a shadow with a dour expression for the imperial seat ahead. He knew too much about it and in his heart of hearts he believed he should hide himself in some way. He still had in his belongings his hawk beaked helmet, and for a time this may permit him to avoid the hard sight of scornful Arkronians. But wearing his armor may be seen as a threat to the carefully crafted image of public order in the port ahead. The Waxward sailed smoothly on towards port at the newly slowed speed set by the merchant galleons of the Arkronians. Now lagging behind the great ship they the captain and the helmsman had directed the speedy corvette to sail further to the side, avoiding the waves the larger ship threw up. They entered into port later in the evening with the crew in full activity. The leaving of and entering of any port was hard dangerous work, made so by competing for space between the known or unknown dangers of rocks and hidden shallow embankments that often ring a shore to the multitude of ships that sailed about with them, and before they entered the shadow of the great white towers they had spent much time vying for and searching for a location in the queue of ocean going vessels seeking an opportunity to dock. As they waited, prince Edward received a brief impromptu education of the ships at port by the crew and by Henry who emerged from below deck. From the long narrow galleons of the Saa'kaleed Abiat to the cogs of nearby Rhaetia. Even the more distant smaller traders from Skekaria. Arguments broke out and were settled over the styles of rigging and the length and heights of decks and spans. But more impressive to Edward still were the large Arkronian ships at harbor, from the wide breasted ocean goers of the merchant fleet to the meaty and blood soaked hulls of the northern whaling ships returning south from their long excursions in the frigid waters north of Epha, their great scummy pots of whale oil bubbling still as they came to dock, perfuming the air with the aromatic if tepid smell of boiling sperm. All of this was watched over by the twin towers that guarded the gate to the port. As with the seawall, they stood tall and impressive in their white stone, though long grayed and green by the spray of stormy seas. But as clear as freshly painted the outward facings of the great sea gate stood painted the emblem of the Empire on the coat of arms of the city itself, a red winged shield with the three entwined black triangles of the imperial state. As well, a heavy chain hung from the towers, in time of plight the great chain would be pulled up from the bed of the seat to discourage any hostile raiders from entering port. But for the centuries the Empire had been in Mycoria, the chain had never been raised. It hung merely as a threat, a promise of self defense and powerful opposition to any threat that might challenge the Arkronian's strict law. So it rusted, its immense links became the perches of hundreds of gulls and rockbirds. By the time they found room and negotiated with a harbor master they were informed that it was late, and today the longshoremen would soon retire to sleep. By the following morning the kegs of gifted liquor would be unloaded and deposited on the next barge to the capital. The captain elected a contingent of the crew to remain behind, and differing from shore Mathieas offered to stay too to help where needed. William permitted this, and with the remainder of the entourage went ashore and quickly found a hotel to abscond in for the night. Edward, excitable at the new sights wandered about in the lamp-lit streets of the city with his brothers. Their father king felt no danger, he knew the Arkronian obsession with order. Even with their own guard, there would be a watchful presence by their hosts all the same to ensure nothing happened to them. Or they themselves to the city and their hosts. But opting to keep to himself he remained behind in the inn, and sat melancholy at the window. Despite the cold early spring William sat by an open window. The turbulent air of the port city wafting in, the fire place crackled along a far wall. The room was as opulent as the city was large. The wide paved streets dominated by the tall homes of the great merchant counting houses and the manufacturers and warehouses of the harbor district of Port Akron. Lit by northern whaling, the city was held in a pale green glow in the night, accompanied by the orange and yellow lights of candles in windows as the city's finest went about their evenings before bed. There was a restrained silence in the city, much unlike the chaos of Hemden's evenings when the travelers of the canals and the merchants and the various teamsters and longshoremen met with the tradesmen and other day laborers of the city in a raucous nightly celebration in the numerous taverns and bars of the city. At night under torch and fire light the minstrels that remained hidden at day would play long into the cool summer nights. Where as by comparison in Arkronia, the libertine feelings were suppressed by a harsh conservative demand for order and cleanliness. It was here that William first heard “police” and not “night watch” or “guard” which was so much a fancy of the wealthier houses of his capital home. “There's always somethin' rotten in Arkronia.” a voice said from the shadows, and William turned to look about. He didn't notice anyone. But the room was so proportioned that all the same someone might be hiding in the unnerving far corners. This was either a fact of control the imperial masters wished to impress or a strange mistake in the order. But for all the work of candles and fireplace, no space felt particularly well lit. “Ye know this.” the voice added from somewhere and William turned back to the window to notice something out of the corner of his eye on the bed. The definitive black shape turned. “Really should keep t'window closed.” “It's stuffy.” protested William. “Ay n' so is the castle but s'what.” “It's at least open in it.” “True that be. But what'fer does it amount to if you dream s'much of flying the cope so it were?” William didn't answer the figure's question and went on trying to ignore him. “T'is a shame you're alone though. Perhaps y'might've enjoyed goin' out to see the city with the princes. Might allow you t'stretch yer legs. You'll want to walk straight when you get t'the palace. Maybe if the queen were still alive things wouldn't be s'gloomy 'bout'cha.” William stared out the window unflinchingly. He blinked once, and looked down at a dog crossing the street, disappearing into some alley off to the side. “T'is a strange sight t'see a city so empty however.” the figure said in a long sighing tone. “But as I said: t'is always something fishy in Arkronia. I believe they're always hiding somethin', an'ye know it.” “They always do.” William said. “Mm, yes. But what'about that dog? Why is it alone? They're not ones f'strays like that.” William turned his head a slight, pulling the figure more into his periphery. The shadowy Avan lay himself across the bed, putting his boots up and folding great heavy arms under his head. “Saw it in your eyes.” it said with a carefree tone. “Do'ye think they're hiding something?” “Mmm,” the figure grumbled, “Yea used t'be good at'his.” “What do'yea mean?” protested William “Oh Good King William! How've you grown from seeing the patterns'n things and t'this. Is it not hard? There is something fishy goin'an here.” William turned, and looked down onto the streets, the figure continued, “Do'yea need a hand held? The city is quiet, there'ain't a soul'in sight. Yea see anyone sweepin'? Is there anything t'sweep? They're trying to hide something going about. “Anyways t'is late m'lord, don't you think? Yea'have a lotta time yet t'travel. Best y'sleep. The boys'll be back soon.” [h1]Kingdom of Cor[/h1] [h2]Collans[/h2] With spring remained the rains. Or less of it than any other time in winter. It fell as snow in a cold snap or when some northern wind managed to break over the mountains. Otherwise it came in humid and warm from the south. While still early in spring and still numbingly cold, at times a spring rain brought with it warm air. For the first time this season someone could, though with a blanket step away from the fire. In the house of Bone Friend this was the case, as the lecturner sat out under the covered awning of his house, holding a cup of nettle tea in his hands. His wife took up a seat by his side. “Are we going t'do anything about the two families?” his wife, Honor Pleased said. A narrow built woman, she was graced with an awkward and tall disposition. It was whispered she was the product of some strange coupling with a spirit from the Low Forests as a cruel joke against her now deceased mother. It was never a thing she could put down by herself, and the rumor had the misfortune of sticking to her where ever she had went. But for those who saw her long gait - as though a tower were about to fall over - it was not a long leap to make. But appearances were far from the last thing about her, for behind the awkwardness she possessed many qualities that had attracted her husband to her: she was the heiress to a modest burgher's fortune from the city of Stonewall on the northern coast, where the two had met at a winter party they attended at the expense of one of Friend Bone's professional acquaintances. But he was first brought to her by the speckled gray on blue feathers that crowned her head, the way she shone in the face even among the polite silent judgment of the attendees. He had approached her, asked her to dance, and managed to coax grace out of her long limber form even as she stood so tall her silver beak rested at his brow. With slight effort he managed to beguile her father to consider him, where he lived a professional life and could afford to give a place of dignity, thus beginning a year long courtship at a distance trying to prove himself. And she was here now, in the country, looking out across a field to the creek that split the town. Watching the budding branches bob and nod with the warm early spring rain. The grass had not yet grown entirely, the countryside in brown. But as thunder began to roll over head the two realized that this would change soon. Together here they had raised ten children, two of which survived; one of which they both sent to the same acquaintance as whom inadvertently introduced them to study numbers as well as words. “One of them's going t'try something on t'other.” she remarked again. “I know.” Friend Bone said with a low voice, “One of'em warned me of a rumor.” “So what's your plan?” she asked. “Wait it out. T'ain't much I'cann do. Try t'stop anything if it t'were. Keep it low under the table.” “And you sure y'can't make them stop?” Friend Bone shook his head, “Nay. Bad blood that goes back a'few generations t'ain't easy to put out. And they've been keepin' it hot.” “So y'er not going t'do anything?” “Ican't, and the whiskey's been caught up in all this for s'long as both don't budge.” “T'is a shame. They're both wonderful families.” said Honor with a wistful sigh. They watched in the near distance as a small gang of young Avan run to the creek in despite of the rain to begin splashing about. From the hovel across a voice rang out as someone tried to call them back. “You remember when ours used to do that?” a nostalgic Honor said, “I miss those days.” “I don't. I don't like t'get wet.” “Oh now how come? You seem t'bathe just fine.” “It's not that.” Friend Bone said with a laugh, “It's how cold the rain gets. It hurts.” “And how about Stonewall, the ocean spray? You saying it did not hurt you then too?” He took a moment to gulp down his cup and replied, “It did. I was pretending.” he laughed. Honor rolled her eyes. From the house emerged their youngest, a young Avan girl frail in her adolescence. She looked about nervously, holding a wooden plank with two small fresh loaves of bread. “I think they cooled 'nuff'now.” she said hesitantly with a tittering tension in her voice. “Oh apple blossom, thanks.” cooed Honoria, tenderly reaching out and scooping her head towards her and with the gentleness of a snowfall rested the side of her beak on her head in a kiss. “I'll take those.” she offered. “D'you want t'stay out here with us?” Bone Friend asked. The young one smiled and bowed, but hesitated. “Y-yes.” she stuttered, “Can I, get'a blanket?” “Go ahead.” Bone Friend said. Her name was Passivity. Once a light of fire to match the sharp gleam in her eyes, blue like her mother's. But after her brothers succumbed to disease she retreated to a dark place, and becoming a recluse. She was hard to coax out. It even stumped Bone Friend, who spent the long hours before she fell asleep helping her through the initial onslaught of nightmares that plagued her. “Will we try t'ask her t'come t'Ostrafeast?” whispered Honor, holding one of the small loafs of bread in her hands Friend shook his head, “If she wants she'll ask t'come.” “Y'sure? Because t'be honest: I have fear for her alone in t'home. They say t'is not good to be alone with your darker spirits.” “She just mourns.” Friend said. He intended to add they both knew how well all their children were with one another. But this was fact they both knew all too well, and it would not help to say anything. All the same, the answer did not settle Honoria who looked back at the house with a terrified, saddened expression. She cast her look down at the bread and gingerly twisted and turned it this way and that until it broke. It had nuts in it. She sighed sadly. In her heart she knew that if she was not so low they might have been able to court her off. She was a wonderful girl. “I'm thinking: perhaps we should send her t'the witch?” Honoria asked. Friend looked up, astonished, “Why would'ye think o'that?” “I'm just... Perhaps it'd be t'best idea. She can help, so others have said.” “She is a mad woman though, cavorts with bad spirits. It'd be a risk!” “I know but-” Honoria was cut off when they heard the sound of the door of the house being unlatched. Both parties straightened themselves as Passivity stepped out wrapped tight in a blanket. She looked at the two of them with innocent eyes. “Hello.” she spoke softly. “Welcome back. Come o'er'here, sit with me. I'll keep y'warm.” Honoria invited. Smiling pensively, Passivity obliged and sat in her mother's lap. Together the two wrapped themselves in the gray wool blanket she had brought out and they looked out at the creek. By this time the youths had finally been scolded or bribed back into the house. They ran up through the reeds with their clothes soaking wet. Further out in the distance beyond the hovel a small herd of deer wandered out into the gray rainy mist of the open fields. They watched their dark silhouettes move faintly over the blackened rain impregnated ground. The thunder continued to roll over head, not threatening much. The air had a cold heavy smell to it. Things felt as peace. “This is a wonderful spring bread.” said Honoria, “D'ya want t'share a piece, my little duck?” “I'm not hungry.” Passivity said, leaning her head against her mother's shoulders. Honoria looked across her daughter's tired head to Friend who sat leaning forwards, elbows against his knees deep in thought.