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Book 1 — Chapter 31

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Day: Hynyia

Date: 22

Month: Nokaokarium 

Quarturn: 1618

Location: Nearing the island of Diboli, The Shattered Continent

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Tane released the yawn with little regard toward general etiquette. Not only because the company at current wouldn’t hold him to the silly protocol, but because his enervation wouldn’t be sated by a subdued inhale. This yawn required his whole body, with a stretch and a vocal exhale, if he had any hope of alleviating the fatigue that was pulling him into sleep’s spell.

 

“Those are highly contagious,” Jacinth commented with a chuckle. 

 

It was a laugh Tane shared as he admitted. 

 

“They are. Though wholly necessary. I just didn’t sleep well during our allotted time and am now suffering from it.” 

 

“I understand. Your aversion to flying would prime you to be disinclined to relax and, in turn, sleep,” Jacinth observed with a pause as a yawn gently escaped his lips. 

 

“Hmmrr,” Jacinth groaned, which was followed promptly by another chuckle as he spoke. “Deo dammit. I told you they were contagious.” 

 

He again felt the laugh come forward. One that seemed to energize him more than the yawn did. But before he could offer any apologies, Jacinth asked in a focused voice. 

 

“Hold those thoughts. I’ve got to navigate carefully … need to concentrate … give me a couple of moments, please.” 

 

He didn’t respond, only nodded as he watched Jacinth turn the control column to adjust to the new heading. 

 

Needing concentration was something he understood; while he would consider himself a competent pilot, he knew he was far from a seasoned aviator needed for the Shattered Continent. 

 

Entering the Shattered Continent was always an ordeal. For in the objective of protecting the Shattered Continent from exploitation and letting the groups of peoples who did resided there — for reasons that ranged from isolation to self-determination — the World Council had made sure navigation through it was something that could not be easily done. Permitting only observational satellites for weather and natural disasters to set above the Shattered Continent. Ones that were inaccessible to the average traveler for navigation purposes.  

 

So while one could, in the rest of the world, jump in an airship and input exact coordinates — letting the ship do most of the navigational flying — such was not the case when entering the Shattered Continent. 

 

Once out of public global positioning airspace, it was up to the pilot to direct the airship by hand. Usually done by an intensely complex calculation involving distance, speed, altitude, and direction. Something that could be exceedingly difficult when not every airship was equally equipped regarding precision, instrumentation, and even flight level — oftentimes making even shared data unreliable. Further exacerbating it was the fact that some islands were so small — and grouped in a profusion of archipelagos — that finding your exact destination, even at low altitudes, was a trial. 

 

Granted, there were some groups that had created “coordinate glossaries,” such as the Nichal  — who were, as being a predominantly nomadic group, permitted unfettered access to the Shattered Continent. But aside from some fringe factions, the Nichal aligned themselves with the World Council’s rationales, and didn’t share their glossaries readily.

 

Although for them, they did have one factor assisting their journey: a homing beacon. Used when someone was already on the island of destination, it could send out a ping that the airship would pick up and then follow directionally to the point of origin. And while it was accurate to the meter, it didn’t have an expansive relay, and therefore one had to be in the general area to detect the ping being sent out. Thus making analog navigation pivotal. 

 

“Damnit,” Jacinth whispered to himself. 

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked with a voice of concern that made his worry known. 

 

“Nothing disastrous,” Jacinth assured. “I overshot my next heading.”

 

“Can I do anything to help? Any calculations you need done?” he offered as he was feeling awkward only observing. 

 

“No … indeed,” Jacinth responded in a detached voice.

 

Jacinth paused for a moment, seemingly out of concentration, before he let out a vocal breath of satisfaction and continued in an uplifted voice. 

 

“I’m … we’re back on track now. No concerns to be had. In fact, I wouldn’t mind if you were to take advantage of the time and rest your eyes for a bit. I’m aware you didn’t sleep very well during our assigned downtime.” 

 

He took a deep breath as he looked out the window at the horizon before him. The clouds were the prominent feature, obscuring most of the ground below them. And their shape, as they rose and fell delicately, brought to mind the contours of his mattress top. He chuckled at the thoughts as he shared them.

 

“You’re perfectly right. It hasn’t just been the lack of sleep on the flight. Yesterday, when we left work early for home to rest, I couldn’t calm my mind. Then, after a couple hours of pacing the floor, I decided to go work out, hoping a full-body lifting session would exhaust my body and force fatigue. I ended up lifting for over three hours. Granted, I was focused on strength training, so was resting on average four minutes between sets; even so, three hours is a lot for me. And it didn’t produce the results I hoped. Went home. Showered. Ate twice my daily caloric intake. Watched part of the match. Read. And then stared at the ceiling for hours, well into late morning, before I finally bored myself to doze. Woke when you called this morning. Sitting here, looking out at the clouds, it’s — in my deficient mind — reminding me of my bedding; I’m that far gone.” 

 

“That was precisely why I asked Termi and Na’thot to run the first half of the flight,” Jacinth commented. “You looked and, forgive me for saying, still look ragged. Was in hopes you would rest during that time.”

 

“No affront taken,” he assured with a chuckle. But as the weight of his fatigue pushed down on his shoulders, it sent his tone down with it as he admitted. “And I do thank you for the consideration.” 

 

“Any particular reason you’re overwrought?” Jacinth asked with a voice of sincere concern. 

 

“Same reason you’re anxious. This artifact,” he responded frankly. 

 

He glanced over to Jacinth, who only nodded at his comment. But as his attention returned to the forward window, he felt his eyes heavy to the point they closed by reflex. This produced from him a sigh of defeat, as he admitted out loud. 

 

“I’m going to take your advice and rest my eyes a few. Not only for my sake. But for the added benefit of not being a distraction while you concentrate.” 

 

“I’d feel better if you did,” Jacinth acknowledged. “I believe it’s in our best interest to be refreshed for whatever may await us. Mind you, I can’t imagine we’d be required to physically fight. I’m only convinced we need to be on top of our mental game. Observing, asking, and gathering information. It’ll be essential.”

 

With those words, he relinquished any guilt that lingered towards his desire for rest. As he closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat, pushing the leg rest up, he took in a deep breath that, upon exhaling, brought him deeper into the comfortable chair. But as he began to settle his mind down, an observation came forward that prompted him to ask. 

 

“I noted something now as you were speaking to me. It’s something you have done for as long as I have known you, but never addressed. It’s in your use of elisions.” 

 

He could hear Jacinth chuckle before he let out a sigh of admittance as he replied. 

 

“I trust you’re referencing my use of contractions in informal settings as opposed to settings such as the office. It’s an astute awareness on your part. I shift linguistic codes when I’m more at ease … being around those I trust. In office … it is a method with which I can make myself abundantly clear. To ensure little to no misconstruction can be lodged against me. I know it can be seen as halting … even pretentious. However, I try to be very careful in every avenue in my life. Even my speech patterns.” 

 

He felt the sigh of pity come to his lips, but didn’t express it verbally. He knew Jacinth hadn’t shared his methods as a way to elicit sympathy. Only to reply honestly to an observation. However, with Jacinth’s candid response, one could not help but commiserate with the position Jacinth was in. Circumstances that had him wound so tight, he feared for his friend, for what would transpire once that proverbial “string” finally snapped and unraveled. 

 

• • •

 

Tane felt his face wince as his foot slipped and caused his body to lurch sideways, sending his hands up to brace himself against the cliff face, which they were walking next to. 

 

“Watch out for those loose stones. They may be small, but they like to prove that even the smallest pebble can take a big rock down,” the project manager, Binsen, advised in a maternal tone. 

 

He raised his hand to her with a smile to confirm he was okay and had heeded the warnings. And while he sincerely was fine, the combination of the delayed onset muscle soreness from the previous night’s workout, combined with the nearly 18-hour flight, had proven to render his body stiff and throbbing — leaving his movements dragging as they navigated the short hike to the artifact site. 

 

As his eyes returned to the ground before him, he tried to focus on his steps, as was advised. Yet, his attention was ebbing with a chuckle as his thoughts were returning to their arrival on the island of Diboli.

 

Upon their landing, he was promptly received by the project manager, a Watzeen woman by the name of Binsen. She was warm and welcoming as he disembarked ahead of Jacinth from the airship — citing that he was going to excuse Na’thot and Termi from accompanying them to allow them rest time. But as it seemed Jacinth’s appearance had been unexpected, his emergence several moments later brought from Binsen an excitement that he couldn’t help but find humor in. 

 

A sincere jump of joy from Binsen as she saw Jacinth was only the beginning of her surge of energy. The enthusiasm from Binsen was genuinely uplifting; her liveliness infectious. She quickly confessed she was a great admirer of Jacinth, saying she found his methods toward business and working with people her principal model for how she approached her undertakings. Her words naturally led Jacinth, who was always happily willing to extend himself, to engage with Binsen about the details of the project. This led to a beam of pride from Binsen and a two-hour tour of the work that was, for Binsen, an opportunity to show her inspired success with the Adenan Okens on Diboli, and how it had both benefited the Adenans and Hylatee alike. 

 

For himself, it was an enjoyable distraction. Diboli was a beautiful island. Larger and cooler than he expected, it was abundant in plant life and water, and featured a varied geography. It surprised him that an island could house such diversity. 

 

Additionally, they were able to meet several Adenans. While, as described by Raer, they were doctrinal and generally distant; they were also quite courteous — as long as one adhered to the particular protocols that the group required. Such formalities were well advised in advance by Binsen, making the interactions pleasant — seemingly for all parties involved. 

 

Then, once all presenting had been completed, Binsen had brought them a distance on an expanded STV to a further part of the island. One that revealed itself to be a cliff face that, in its marbling cream to brown colors, seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see.

 

Binsen was kind enough to detail that the Adenans had requested for them not to be taken to the site by airship, as physical movement was required to “cleanse the body of impurities” before being “worthy of retrieval.” Though she assured them that the hike they were now embarking on was an easy one that would expose them to more of the island’s beauty.

 

In his mind, Binsen was not wrong. The hike, sans the occasional foot-slide, had been an enjoyable one, as it was lush with flowering bushes and trees that were attracting all manner of unique and beautiful insects to witness. 

 

However, as the hike was progressing in relative silence, it was providing him with time to consider not only what he saw, but also what he didn’t see. Unexpected factors that had piqued his interest and were causing him to formulate questions in his mind. 

 

But before any further ruminations could continue, Binsen stopped their progress and released a vocal breath of happiness as she gestured and explained. 

 

“Here we are. This slot canyon is the entrance to the depression. It’s a narrow channel, so we’ll have to walk single file. Follow me, please.” 

 

As they entered the canyon, they walked in continued silence for several meters, focusing on their footing as the ground was even more tenuous, with stone fragments strewn about. But his thoughts were pervasive. In particular, a specific issue that he was finding difficulty in asking with societal correctness. Yet his curiosity could not be swayed. And with a deep breath of resolve, he decided to inquire at length in hopes of remaining respectable.  

 

“Binsen … if I may ask you a couple questions. And forgive me if one distinctly lacks appropriateness. But I was told there had been a group of Watzeens who tried to take the artifact and a HEAGEN force had to be brought in. However, I have seen no HEAGENs. Further … and this is where my questionable inquiry comes to pass … and … please note I’m speaking from a cultural point … as a Watzeen yourself, wouldn’t you be informed as to why they would want the artifact?” 

 

He felt his breath hold as he figured such a gross generalization could easily be interpreted as derogatory. But his fears of offense were lessened as Binsen laughed heartily for a moment. Then, after a contented sigh, she fully assuaged his fears as she responded. 

 

“To your second question, I understand where the deduction is coming from and I take no offense. Moree Watzeens follow a more culturally stringent conformity, which includes the possession of information. Any conclave to be had is done on virtually a country-wide scale. But I’m from the Shuju’a Watzeens. And we are distinct from the Moree clan, as we are more individualistic. Don’t follow the hereditary realm. Aren’t as clandestine. Our historical breakaway doesn’t mean there is bad blood between us. However, while we’ll always be kin, we’re not invited to the confab. So to that question, no. I’m not privy as to why they want it. And trust me, I have asked around.” 

 

He felt a relief wash over him, as he was pleased she understood the context to which the question was framed. However, he didn’t have a chance to thank her for her understanding before she continued. 

 

“The explanation for your other query will be understood just about now.” 

 

He felt his brow furrow in question to her words. But his query was non-verbally answered as they came out of the canyon and into the large basin that had many HEAGENs present. More than he understood to have been requested. The sight brought with it an uneasiness that was only increased by the landscape before him. He brought into himself a vocal breath that entered tremulously, as the scenery of scorched ground inspired such a reaction. 

 

It was one that seemed to be shared, as Jacinth asked in a disquieted voice.

 

“Such a significant shift in energy here. As if this place is devoid of verve. I … What happened here?” 

 

He looked at Binsen; her once peppy voice also sunk to a more somber tone as she replied. 

 

“Only a little further this way, and I can explain what my team has gathered.” 

 

As they began their walk up a modest hill, they passed several HEAGENs, who looked wholly unimpressed with their presence. Not even letting their guard down as they stood with percussion guns and other weapons at the defense. But his attention was drawn back to Binsen, who further addressed Jacinth’s question. 

 

“As you may have observed, most of the western side of this island is a vast plateau. We figured geologically, the cliffs used to edge up against the sea beyond. But due to tectonic movement, the seabed rose and created the lowlands we just came from. The plateau features many lakes and waterways alike. Some who have natural outlets such as giant waterfalls. Seeing the benefits in plateau lakes as a way to generate hydropower, the Adenans made a sort of deal with us. Trading their mining labor for the equipment needed to harness such power. It turned out that during the building phase of a pseudo-spillway that’s more of a dry creek bed, we needed rock resources. And when we went on an aerial expedition, we came across this depression, though quite different from what you see now.” 

 

“What do you mean, ‘quite different from what you see now?’” Jacinth asked in a careful voice. 

 

As they reached the summit of the hill, Binsen stopped, turned, and looked at them directly and let an uncomfortable breath out. As if the facts of the matter were bringing her some distress. She shifted several times in her stance, and her wings fluttered at the ends as she responded. 

 

“I don’t want to sound superstitious … it just … it all happened in such a short period of time … let me explain. My team and I, as we flew over the area, noted some shadows being cast from an unknown source. Nothing major. But given the greenery was significantly deeper in color than the surrounding grasslands, we decided both factors warranted an investigation. If only for our collective curiosity alone. Honestly … had we not been so low in our altitude, we may have just shrugged it off as a different family of grass that had taken hold. But as we landed on the plateau, we came to discover the color and the shadow casting was because of a micro-forest growing in this deep depression, emerging up and above the surrounding grasslands. All forastalinia trees. Ones we could easily identify by their tuft treetops. We walked the perimeter of the depression and found the break. From what the team could figure, this was once an incredibly deep lake that found its drainageway from the slot canyon we just came from. Of course, when the lake had drained, it must have left deposits that were primed for the forastalinia trees to grow. Honestly, we found it all very novel. But with no real use at the time, we went about our way. Then it happened.” 

 

“What happened?” he asked with sincerity, despite being able to deduce what had occurred. 

 

“Only a couple days later, the sky was blackened by the prolonged fire. It was so intense we couldn’t get near it while it burned.” 

 

“I’m sorry,” Jacinth interrupted. “But did you say they were forastalinia trees? Those have some of the highest ignition temperatures in the perennial natural world. They’re often touted as lightning-proof.”

 

“I did,” Binsen nodded as she replied. “And while I will say that the claim they are lightning-proof is a fallacy — it was because of the trees burning so hot that we couldn’t get near it.”

 

“So it was a lightning strike that started the fire?” he asked. 

 

“That’s not what I implied when I mentioned it was a fallacy,” Binsen answered as her eyes moved to worry. “We don’t know what started it. There were no storms in the area at the time. But it’s the reason the whole of this depression looked like this. It burned like a pit fire: charring from ground to walls in totality. And I’m not exaggerating when I say totality. There wasn’t a single branch or stump that remained, only some roots here and there.”

 

He let out a breath and shifted himself; the situation was becoming more strange as each detail emerged. But before he could further contemplate the information they have been given thus far, Jacinth encouraged in a serious tone. 

 

“Please, go on.” 

 

As Binsen gestured to them to follow, they walked across a dusty part of slightly sunken soil until they came to a small rock pile, where she stopped and continued. 

 

“As I said, the smoke from the fire blackened the sky, which in turn, with the particulates in the air and the timing of the atmospheric conditions, led to significant rains. Given the rains, we forwent any investigation of what was left of the forest. But after a couple of weeks, we made our way here to discover the rain had cleaned some of the ground and wall faces. Moreover, it had revealed a massive mound of these white rocks that we hadn’t seen through the trees. We considered it a stroke of luck, as it would keep us from having to mine for rocks. And it seemed to only get better as, when we inspected the rocks, they were suitable for the dry bed. Heavy, only slightly porous. Even if they weren’t from the area.”

 

“Not from the area?” he asked in a voice that made it known he was unclear of her meaning. 

 

“Yes. The geologist on staff noted they were of a particular type that can only be found in deep oceans.” 

 

“That’s highly unusual,” Jacinth observed in an uneasy tone. 

 

“It only gets more unusual from there,” Binsen admitted. “As we began to survey the mound further, it became more clear this wasn’t a natural deposit. The mound was a perfectly round 51 meters, with a height of 33 meters. And I know that while it will offend academics like yourselves, we decided — to maintain our discrete operations here — that we couldn’t risk bringing in proper archaeologists to scrutinize the site. We simply went forward with scavenging the mound and only stopped when we reached the artifact at the center base.” 

 

“Wait,” Jacinth interjected. “If I understand you correctly, you said you didn’t observe the rock mound prior to the fire; only trees. However, forastalinia trees, while very tall, are also very narrow, with a drip line of only four meters. Even if the forastalinias were growing right up against the edge of the mound, it would mean only roughly eight meters of the mound would have been concealed, leaving a significant area that would have diverged from the surrounding trees with either mosses or … nothing at all. Which means …”

 

Jacinth paused mid-sentence, as Binsen inhaled sharply and nodded with exaggeration and continued the narrative. 

 

“You’re figuring this out much quicker than we did. No. There was no open space to speak of. It was thick with forastalinias. What we realized in full, only after we started to dismantle the mound, was there were forastalinias growing on the mound itself. This was confirmed as once we had removed some of the rocks, we began to find the remnants of the root systems from the trees.”

 

“That would imply,” Jacinth related with a tone of astonishment. “That the mound was either constructed prior to the lake’s formation, or built into the lake itself. Because if it had tree growth on it, that would mean it collected the same deposits as the surrounding ground.”

 

“Precisely!” Binsen exclaimed with a gesture of her hands, emphasizing her words. “That’s exactly what we came to realize. And of course, the idea of anyone building an underwater mound is perfectly feasible. You get a dozen or so Corachals; you have free divers who can stay under for a half hour or more. They, or anyone with proper diving equipment, could have plausibly done so. But it did get us questioning. And the geologist of our team began looking for clues that the mound was built prior to the lake forming. He did find some evidence of angular breaks, implying the surrounding rocks were broken unnaturally; meaning there may have been some digging. But nothing conclusive. All it seemed to signal to us was people went to some significant lengths. We started to empathize with the Adenans’ meltdown. As you know, Hylatee protocol is to collect and save any artifacts of interest to be turned in upon project completion. But given all the factors surrounding it, we couldn’t wait. Hence why you called in to collect it.”

 

He felt his eyes blink to the wideness that had set upon them as the details of the discovery became known. He wholly agreed with Binsen; whoever had placed the artifact here, really had no intention for it to be found. But it struck him as odd. He could understand if it had sacred cultural significance, the lengths people would go to protect its divinity. But if it was something of danger, or nefarious, why not destroy it instead of hiding it? 

 

It was a consideration that he knew could have many rationales that wouldn’t have to make sense to him, only those who hid it. But exploring those reasons was something he would have to do at a later time as he looked down at the small pile of rocks that remained. As he squatted down, he reached for the first rock in front of him: one that was fist-sized, and — he figured — easy to move. However, it was significantly heavier than its size would suggest; he let out a breath of surprise as he spoke. 

 

“Dear Deo, these are absurdly heavy.” 

 

“That would explain why the ground looks sunk in,” Jacinth observed. 

 

“We surmised the same,” Binsen confirmed as she dropped to one knee and offered. “I hate to admit this as a Watzeen, but you’ll need two people to lift this last rock.” 

 

He felt a light smile push into the corners of his mouth. But one could not form despite Binsen’s self-deprecating humor.

 

He grabbed the edges of a medium-sized elongated rock on one side, as Binsen did the same on the other. Both shimming their fingers between the crevices, to allow them the grip they needed. Then, with a concerted effort, and a count of five, they both put their strength into lifting the rock with an exerted inhale, and set it to the side. 

 

As he let out the breath of focused effort, he turned his eyes back to the spot and finally laid his eyes on the artifact. 

 

He felt his brow again frown. Only this time, not from worry, but from confusion, as the artifact was fairly unremarkable. At first glance, it appeared to be made of some type of alloy. While it had an overall dull-matte finish in a bluish-grey color, its metallic nature revealed itself upon the light reflection of its sharp edges. Its base, thick and disk-shaped, featured what appeared to be deliberate markings around the outside. Atop the flat of the disk rose five thick arms. Four, equidistant from one another that were designed in a crescent shape, reminiscent of the final stages of a solar eclipse. Further, based on their setting, one could ascribe their positions to the four cardinal directions. The fifth arm, located directly in the center, appeared to be five spheres stacked on top of one another, with a small hole embedded within the top sphere. It seemed to be a handle of sorts — as its placing and shape implied such. But overall, it was an object that, upon viewing, didn’t appear to be anything of import. Yet, being in its presence was stirring other sensations that were not so benign. 

 

He looked up at Binsen, who stood with her own vocal breath as she yelled over to one of the HEAGENs nearby. 

 

“Can you bring me that prepared crate and packaging?”

 

But his attention was drawn to Jacinth, who squatted down next to him and spoke in a cadence that seemed to both marvel and fear. 

 

“I … I couldn’t say with certainty … as I don’t know what the intended form was supposed to be. But this … it looks perfectly intact. Were the rocks stacked to create an air pocket?” 

 

“No,” Binsen responded with a dark voice. “The rocks were piled haphazardly. It wasn’t a pretty mound. Any clearance you see now is our doing.” 

 

He watched as a HEAGEN approached Binsen and handed her a broken down shipping crate and packing bag. As she nodded with a “Thank you,” she returned her attention to them and squatted down herself and continued. 

 

“To clarify, when we found it, there were smaller stones within the arms and lodged in crevices. We picked it out and dusted it off initially. But what you’re asserting is shared. It didn’t lose its shape under that ridiculous pressure. Even the markings don’t appear to be scuffed. This, of course, led to curiosity about what it was made of, but we collectively decided that was above our pay-grade and elected to wait until Hylatee could examine it in hopes the answers would be passed on.” 

 

He again felt humorous words pull at the corner of his mouth, but like before, they simply could not rise. 

 

As his eyes again rose from the artifact to Binsen, he watched as she opened the packaging and handed him a pair of gloves. He accepted them with a nod and put them on as Binsen set up the crate for the artifact to go in for transport. 

 

She placed the crate on the ground near him and offered in an encouraging tone. 

 

“It’s ready. Don’t worry about breaking it. As illustrated by the rocks, it’s not fragile. However, just a hint on how to handle it … it’s actually quite light … just so you don’t overcompensate and end up throwing it.” 

 

He nodded in acknowledgment of Binsen’s advice. Yet, as he slowly reached out for the artifact, his hands began to feel heavy: as if with every centimeter closer, he was adding weight to his outstretched arms. 

 

But in a moment of impatience, he burst forward and grabbed the artifact by one of its arms, and put it directly into the crate without hesitation. 

 

He released a breath of anticipation that his internal monologue ridiculed him for. As if touching the artifact was going to hurt, or worse. Others had already handled it. Why was he so nervous? 

 

It was a question that his thoughts didn’t answer as his attention was taken by Binsen, who spoke in an understanding tone. 

 

“We all did the same … our hands like that.” 

 

He looked down at his hands as they were unconsciously rubbing against his pants. As if in touching the artifact, he had soiled his hands in some way and was desperate to get the stain off of them. He let out a noise of disbelief as he spoke. 

 

“I … I didn’t even realize I was doing anything.” 

 

“As I said,” Binsen remarked. “I’m not one for superstition. But I’m with the Adenans on this one. It’s creepy. It doesn’t feel right. To hold it. To even look at it. You feel … off. And you’ll be subconsciously trying to clean your hands off for a while thereafter.” 

 

He felt his brow furrow even deeper as he stood with everyone. But as his attention moved to Jacinth, who had been conspicuously quiet, he noted his own contorted face of deep concern and asked. 

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Two items of regard,” Jacinth responded in a tone that reflected his expression. “One being there are no enaid around.” 

 

He looked about the whole of the area and could not spot an enaid one. He turned his attention back to Jacinth, whose eyes stared off towards the distance as he continued. 

 

“There are Watzeens over there watching.” 

 

He quickly turned his head toward where Jacinth was looking and felt the surprise catch him, as he too could see at least a dozen Watzeens hovering in the distant sky. Though they circled and moved in short spurts, flying on winds aloft, they didn’t move any closer. Then, after a couple of moments, they all turned and flew off into the clouds above. 

 

He released a breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding. It was one that was shared with both Jacinth and Binsen, as they too let out vocal breaths of their own.

 

But with the release of the breath, it also seemed to return Jacinth to his focused self, as he spoke in a direct manner. 

 

“I believe that is our indication to complete this task with haste. I will radio to Termi to have her bring the ship over here to meet us. We will take you back to the operations center, Binsen, and depart from Diboli from there. Please inform one of the HEAGENs, as they disband from the area, to secure your STV and bring it back to the center with them. In the intervening period of waiting for the airship, I believe we should fulfill our obligation to purify and leave our oblation as the Adenans have required.”​​​

Chapter 31
Chapter 32

Book 1 — Chapter 32

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Day: Hyningo

Date: 23

Month: Nokaokarium 

Quarturn: 1618

Location: The city of Melchior

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Miles released a breath of contentment that surprised him. He paused as he considered what could have elicited him to feel such at the moment. It certainly wasn’t because of the work he was doing — rotating stock was tedious at best. But as his thoughts peregrinated, he felt the smile develop with them, as it actually was “work” that was bringing him satisfaction. Not exactly in the work itself — it was essential labor that brought with it more pitfalls than rewards. But the circumstances he found himself in, the surroundings — place and people — were what was raising his felicity.  

 

He brought another deep breath in as he continued to restock the cooler, considering his current situation.

 

It was one that perplexed him in a way, as this was a venture he normally would have never agreed to. Not in the sense of working at a public house. He wasn’t too good for any honest work, and this was as honest as it came. However, his background had cultivated a more cynical approach to how he viewed his employment. His fellow employees: they were your workmates, but they weren’t your friends. In the same vein, your employer, no matter how chummy they seemed, was most certainly not going to pull for you. It was a strategy that he learned quickly in unfortunate happenings: to keep people who have no vested interest in his success from holding any more control over him than necessary. Always at arm’s length, they should be. 

 

Yet, here he was. Working a job where he was not only developing genuine friendships with many of his fellow employees, but placing the roof over his head in the hands of his employer. All the warning sirens of his mind should have been sounding. But they weren’t. It all felt right. He was happy with his new job, was satisfied with his new surroundings, and was genuinely feeling like the Universe had blessed him with his emerging friendships. It was as if he had won some kind of cosmic sweepstakes.

 

“That’s one way to look at it,” Wayra spoke with a chortle. 

 

He turned from his position and looked at Wayra, who was standing at the bar counter, inspecting an invoice on his clipboard. He felt his head turn in question. But as Wayra set the clipboard down to the counter with a snap, he inhaled shapely and turned toward him, speaking with an apologetic emphasis. 

 

“I’m sorry, Miles. I didn’t mean to grace your thoughts. My mind has been … scattered today. And the invoices are giving me agitation … I heard the happiness, and it just drew my mind in.” 

 

He offered a sympathetic smile as he stood from the cooler and assured Wayra. 

 

“I’m not affronted. In part of my primary education, I roomed with a guy who was Atatta. Not half as talented as you. But I learned pretty quick if I had thoughts to keep private, to meditate on those when he wasn’t around. I know sometimes it’s simply involuntary.” 

 

“Thank you for being so considerate,” Wayra spoke in a relieved tone. “You’re not the only one thinking they won some kind of cosmic raffle. I’ve been of the same mind when considering yourself … and Ash. Hard to find people like you. Don’t want to scare you off.” 

 

“I feel it,” he admitted with a chuckle. 

 

“And as repentance for my slip of the grace, I’ll finish the cooler for you,” Wayra offered with a smile. “Plus, I need to get my eyes off the paperwork for my own good. Have a seat. You’ve been working your ass off the past couple of days.” 

 

He felt the shrug of dismissal come to him, as with the praise, came the burn of reserve to the back of his neck. As he scratched at it, trying to ease its temperature, he couldn’t help but grin and responded in short. 

 

“Thanks.” 

 

As he turned and walked around the bar counter to the front, he found a stool and slide into it, leaning his elbows on the countertop bar. But before he could converse with Wayra any further, his attention was taken by Akiva, who came through the side door with a loud vocal groan of dismay as she moved toward her designated stool and sat with a flop. But as she seemed to be craving focus, she pretended to clear her throat and spoke with emphasis. 

 

“Ahheeemm … attention groooaaannn.” 

 

He couldn’t help but laugh out loud at her articulation. It was a response that made her happy, as she smiled brightly at his laugh. But her eyes turned to Wayra, who shut the finished cooler and stood, expressing a less-than-amused appearance as he spoke.

 

“Where have you been? You’re supposed to be working today.” 

 

“And I have been,” Akiva put forth in a voice of assurance. “Just not for you directly.” 

 

“What’s going on?” Wayra asked in a careful tone. 

 

“A handful of things,” Akiva responded, as reached her arms behind her back and unsnapped the jacket that was made specially to accommodate her wings.

 

She pulled the flap over her head and removed the jacket in its entirety and continued. 

 

“Some of it: meh. Some of it: eeehhh. Some of it: run, save yourselves. But none of it’s gone to print yet, so not going to bother you with details until it does. And how are you, Miles?” 

 

He again couldn’t help but chuckle, as Akiva didn’t wait for a response from Wayra, turning her eyes to him with a sly smile.

 

“I’m good. And yourself?” he asked. 

 

“Fine as wine … in the liver … of an alcoholic,” Akiva replied with a smirk. 

 

It was a response that drew another chuckle from him. But before he could respond, Akiva began to fan herself with her hand as she spoke aloud. 

 

“Dear Deo, it’s hot in here.” 

 

“Well now, that you’re here, you can get some stuff done,” Wayra remarked as he sat on the stool next to Akiva and returned his attention to clipboard and its invoices. 

 

“Give me a couple minutes, whew,” Akiva responded as she continued to wave her hand toward her face to cool herself off. 

 

It was an action that, while even knowing a bit about Watzeens, always surprised him, and he asked. 

 

“You’re always dressed for summer prime; how are you not cold? I mean, I know Watzeens have a high metabolism, why you require a higher-than-average caloric intake … but wouldn’t you be colder?”

 

“She claims she burns rich and therefore needs to eat all the time,” Wayra interjected with a small scoff. “Part of the reason my books are a mess, she eats any potential profits.” 

 

He felt his smile widen, as Akiva waved her hand toward Wayra, as if she were dismissing his comments. However, she didn’t verbally acknowledge them. Instead, crossing her leg and leaning forward, placing an elbow to the counter, and resting her chin in hand as she showed a coy grin and asked in a flirtatious cadence. 

 

“What else do you know about Watzeens?” 

 

He felt his own smile move from humor to mischievous; and raised his eyebrows as he let out a hum of thought. He responded with a roguish inflection of his own. 

 

“Hmmm … let’s see. I have learned that Watzeens are specially evolved to live at high altitudes. With a lung capacity that rivals Corachals. And their blood has protein in it that prevents the increase in hemoglobin, in turn, preventing illness that us low-land-folks develop after a period of time at higher elevations.” 

 

“Ooohhh!” Akiva exclaimed in a pitch of sincere surprise. “You’re impressing me. Do go on.” 

 

He chuckled at her comment, but pulled himself back into the flirty voice. 

 

“Well, if that impressed you, how about this?” he commented in a puckish cadence. “Your beautiful iridescence comes from … and while I can’t recall the exact term … your skin cells that have a nanostructure to them that are photonic in nature. Meaning these structures scatter light to yield colors. Further, being the primary color of your iridescence is a product of how faceted, the word I can’t recall, in your cells are.”

 

He felt a full on laugh burst forward, as Akiva hummed happily and spoke in a seductive voice. 

 

“Smart is very, very attractive. Bring it home, Miles.” 

 

“Okay,” he responded as he calmed his laugh. “I know Watzeens’ wings are similar to arms in their structure; even evolutionary remnants of phalanges can be found. Further, the wings are covered in billions of hairs that are super fine … something in the teens-microns wide … hollow and water-resistant. The hairs are electric-field-sensitive and negatively charged, which helps Watzeens in flight, as each little hair creates lift in positive atmospheric charges.”

 

“You know,” Akiva interrupted as she sat up straight and her voice returned to a direct tone. “It’s funny you mentioned the fact that Watzeens are biologically acclimated to higher elevations, as my grandfather told me, since his age, more and more Watzeen have found it difficult to live in Moree. Something like, over the last 500 solar years, there has been more moving to lower altitudes out of necessity of health. Part of the reason Shuju’a is technically a second Watzeen home. I mean, people who live there can still go up to Moree and stay for a bit; but extended living actually does cause their hemoglobin to rise. Not to the extent like Lost Peoples or Humes do. But it’s noticeable to the point of illness. Part of the reason I’m living down here. Don’t know if you noticed, but I’m quite a bit smaller than the average Watzeen. Smaller frame means smaller lung capacity. I can live there; just feel more bleh and less energetic.”

 

He nodded, as he had read about the changes that were growing in Watzeen anatomy and adaptation. But he was still feeling the desire to be coy, and he brought another grin forward as he spoke. 

 

“Your frame was something that went noticed. And while I’m sorry to hear of you being less comfortable in Moree with your kin, their loss is our gain. I’m sure they miss your beauty.” 

 

He felt the smile brighten; Akiva fanned herself again as she chuckled and joked. 

 

“Bless my mess. I believe it just got hotter in here.” 

 

As he laughed in response to her comment, he watched as she put her hand down and returned to her lean on the counter and spoke in a playful voice and asked. 

 

“You know … they say Watzeen wing hairs are the softest anything in the world. Have you ever touched a Watzeen wing?” 

 

“No, actually. I’ve never had the pleasure,” he responded in an upfront tone, as his own thoughts moved from a less flirtatious intention to one of academic interest.  

 

Akiva’s voice remained in a seductive intonation as she asked. 

 

“Would you like to touch my wings?”

 

He felt the laughter burst out, as he shook his head and put forth. 

 

“You’re messing with me!” 

 

“I am,” she admitted with a great laugh. “But … but … in all seriousness. You’re actually really well versed in Watzeen anatomy. Surprised you haven’t touched a Watzeen wing. So … in an effort to further your education, I sincerely invite you to touch my wing.” 

 

He felt his eyes widen, as she turned on her stool slightly, and stretched forward her left wing towards him, letting it gently lay on the counter. 

 

As he looked to the wing, he noticed some of the longer hairs, which were catching breezes that were undetectable to him as they cast from side to side. He looked again into her eyes, as he wasn’t clear if she was honest about her offer. But with a nod of encouragement from her, he accepted and reached his hand out and placed his fingers within the hairs on the wings. 

 

Upon feeling them, his shoulders and back sank slowly, as if they were melting under the sensation the hairs were bringing. He pushed his fingers deeper; his hand fully went into the wing, and he marveled. It was a softness unmatched, and one that he was almost having difficulty comprehending, as there was nothing to compare it with. Too, it was not only a sensation that uplifted his senses, but one that engaged his more information-based curiosity as he commented aloud. 

 

“Dear Deo, this is beyond soft. You’d have to invent a new word to describe it. But seriously, I can’t believe how there’s hardly any surface tension. My hand is just gliding through these hairs effortlessly. This is really neat!” 

 

As he pulled his hand away, not wanting to impose on her kind offering, he looked at Akiva, who laughed at his comments and remarked. 

 

“I knew where your priorities would lie. In education.” 

 

But as she returned her wings to their static position, she joked with a wink. 

 

“Next time I shed a bit, I will save some for you … so you can roll around naked in them.” 

 

He felt the smile broadly across his face at her teasing words. But as he decided to meet her energy in kind, he pulled his smile back to a grin and offered in a suggestive tone. 

 

“Why wait ‘till you shed?” 

 

He watched as Akiva burst into a laughter so boisterous, it threw her head back and shook her shoulders with glee. It was a reaction that elicited a laugh of his own, as the laughs were contagious. 

 

But as both of their laughs subsided, each of their attentions returned to Wayra as he commented with a shake of the head. 

 

“You two are absolutely incorrigible.” 

 

As both of them fell to laughter again, he watched as Wayra let out a chortle from under his grin, and continued to shake his head. But as the laughs subsided, leaving only sighs of contentment, Wayra released his own sigh and spoke. 

 

“Anyways … Akiva, I’m going to …”

 

“Up!” Akiva interrupted. “Hold on.” 

 

He felt his expression move from enjoyment to one of curious concern; he watched Akiva’s own countenance shift from one of pleasure to one of earnestness, as she checked her wrist roamphone. Her eyes moved across what was presumably a text, as she read in silence for several moments. As she finished, she let out a breath of mild frustration as she spoke. 

 

“Well, whatever it is you need from me today, I won’t be doing it. And neither will Miles.” 

 

“Shocker. Of course you won’t,” Wayra responded in an annoyed voice. 

 

“Hey, you know my motto; promise nothing, deliver less,” Akiva announced in a commanding pitch. 

 

“And you know what they say,” he offered. “Competency is its own punishment.” 

 

His attention moved to Wayra, who let out a satisfied chuckle, as he shook his head and reiterated. 

 

“As I said — incorrigible. Both of you. Nevertheless, what’s going on that’s so pressing you can’t work?”

 

“Just heard from Amir. He’s in need of some serious help, in the way of Watzeen strength, down at the factory village,” Akiva responded. 

 

“Who’s Amir, and what’s the factory village?” he asked, as he was curious what Akiva was pulling him into. 

 

“He’s a Watzeen Consign. Well, part Watzeen,” Akiva answered with a pause as her focus was on her roamphone, responding apparently to Amir. “His … father was Watzeen, his mother, Lost Peoples. He’s one of those Lost Peoples who have Watzeen wings. They always look wild to me; as if someone just glued a pair of Watzeen wings to a larger than average Lost People. Or Hume. Or whoever. Not a bad thing; just makes you do a double take when you see one. Even moreso when they’re a Consign. Nevertheless, he’s usually stationed up in Anahita but flew down to help.”

 

Her attention moved up from her roamphone, and she let out a vocal breath as she continued.  

 

“To your other question, the factory village is a homeless encampment at a closed down factory. The area it’s in is massive, to be honest. They have, for lack of a better word, wards … separated by people with different goals and intentions. The north ward, the people there are desperately trying to make a community. So much so, they even have little pop-up shops here and there sprinkled throughout. And while it’s supposed to be a null zone, apparently HEAGEN got a hair up their ass and came through the other day and knocked down several of the water tower barrels they have. The towers are actually really nice, as they’re these big-ass rain barrels that catch rain super effectively. Too, they use passive solar heating for the water. Gives people a chance to have hot showers and other such things they wouldn’t normally have access to.”

 

He felt his head shake in disgust; he simply didn’t understand what purpose it would serve to induce more pain in others who were already struggling. It was not only disgraceful, but it implied a smallness of those who committed such acts. Exhibiting their weakness by exercising what little power they had on those who couldn’t defend themselves. He let out his own breath of frustration and spoke his thoughts aloud. 

 

“Yeah, no. Shit like that makes me sick. How could anyone be proud of themselves for doing that? It accomplishes nothing but to emphasize how weak you are that your only show of strength is to kick someone while they are down. Pathetic. Why do they do that?” 

 

“Because they can,” Wayra responded in a saddened voice. 

 

“And it really matters to them,” Akiva added with a tone of emphasis. “Just because they live in the camp doesn’t mean they don’t work. Most of them in the northern ward do. That’s why they need the water: not just for drinking and cooking, but for hygiene requirements for their jobs. They stay there, as housing is so damn ridiculous in Melchior … it’s a matter of difficulty finding safe and reliable housing partners, as almost no one can afford to live by themselves. Then finding a place that everyone can afford to go in on. For so many, they just can’t do it. So they stay in the village until they can.”

 

He let out a breath through rounded lips; his thoughts from earlier, of feeling he won a sweepstakes, were emerging again. His head shook by reflex with the anxiety of it all as he asked.

 

“I know you just said you were going to drag me … but if you don’t mind, I would like to come along to help in any way I can?”

 

He looked at Wayra, who nodded enthusiastically and encouraged. 

 

“Yes. I give you leave with no worries. I’ll call in Ash and Matu. This is certainly more pressing.” 

 

“Thanks,” he nodded with a light smile of appreciation. 

 

Though, before he could share any further words, Akiva released a chuckle as she spoke with a grin.  

 

“Yes, you’ll be needed. We need to test those muscles out to see if they’re practical or just for show.”

 

• • •

 

Miles moved himself slightly to the side, to avoid oncoming walking traffic, as he listened to Akiva continue. 

 

“So yeah, the very southern part of town, that’s where Old Town is. Then you have a significant industrial … I don’t know, I guess you can call it … layer to the city. Then you move into the similar urban crap like around here, then the official downtown, then …”

 

“Where are we going?” a masculine voice spoke, almost directly between their heads, causing himself and Akiva to jump and turn towards the direction of the voice.

 

“Shit!” Akiva exclaimed. Though the fear in her voice quickly turned to irritation, as she fussed loudly. “Arwel, you ass! You scared the shit out of me!”  

 

The initial fright that tightened his chest quickly vanished as the Watzeen man, Arwel, began to laugh — presumably at the reaction he had elicited from them. But before further words could be shared, Akiva guided everyone to move aside, to give way to traffic. He noted the man briefly was of typical Watzeen build and height, as he was easily over two meters tall. His complexion, typical of Watzeen with its soft white base, offered its uniqueness; his iridescent highlights lent more to a light green overtone that appeared as light flittered across his skin. His eyes, bright in a sort of luma-lavender that featured the base with hints of green around the edges. This could not be outdone by a sincerely warm and bright smile that was modeled by a deeply handsome and — despite his obvious pleasure in causing Akiva mild distress — tender face. 

 

Arwel brushed his hands through his wavy hair that was white and thick, but well trimmed to the nape of his neck, and asked again. 

 

“So really, where ‘we going?” 

 

Akiva let out a vocal breath of frustration; she was still not pleased that this man had sincerely scared her. 

 

“We’re going to Old Town, you’re not coming,” Akiva spoke firmly.

 

He held in a chuckle; Arwel showed a genuine look of disappointment and let out a whine from his voice as he protested. 

 

“But I want to go.” 

 

He felt his chuckle increase as Akiva dodged the comment and asked with continued irritation. 

 

“How do you do that? Sneak up on people when you’re such a lumbering giant?” 

 

Arwel spoke in a prankish tone, moving his body in an exaggerated manner to further illustrate his words as he spoke.  

 

“One day … shoo-shoo … I might demystify you … shoo-shoo … on my unparalleled skills of stealth and lown. But only, maybe, if I can go with you.” 

 

He couldn’t help himself as he let out the laugh he was holding onto as it burst out to not only Arwel fun nature, but Akiva’s full body eye-roll that proceeded.  

 

“Who’s this?” Arwel asked with open curiosity. 

 

Akiva let out a breath of relegated frustration as she gestured to him half-heartedly and spoke. 

 

“This is Miles. He’s a new addition to Nokahme … in both pub and club. Miles, if you can believe it, because I can’t … because he acts like a damn child … this is my older brother, Arwel.” 

 

He felt his eyebrows lift as he exclaimed with relish. 

 

“Ah! Elder brother, eh? Pleasure to meet you. Now that you mention it, I can see the resem …” 

 

“Don’t you dare,” Akiva growled with a scowl. 

 

The humor struck acutely; he and Arwel both laughed, and Arwel commented with his own satiation. 

 

“Akiva, he’s a vibrant one. First impression stamp of approval.” 

 

He again laughed, as Arwel moved forward and touched his shoulder gently, mimicking the noise of a stamp hitting the paper with a doink. 

 

“Oh, dear Deo, kill me now,” Akiva moaned as she looked up toward the sky in prayer. 

 

“What? What did I do?” Arwel asked with sincere worry.

 

“You’re just being so … you. Goofy,” Akiva responded. 

 

“I can’t help that. I’m awkward. Okay? I’m really awkward!” Arwel spoke loudly in defense, which caused some heads to turn towards their conversation. 

 

Akiva quickly hushed him and pulled him along as they again continued to walk down the street. 

 

“Okay, okay. I know you can get a little perplexed. It’s fine. But as a general reminder, keep your voice at an appropriate level. And don’t touch people without their verbal or non-verbal permission,” Akiva advised in a sensitive voice. 

 

“Sorry about that, Miles,” Arwel offered. 

 

“Not at all. I’m informal, so all good,” he assured him. 

 

But while the assurance returned the pleasant expression to Arwel’s face, he let out a sigh and elaborated. 

 

“I grate Akiva, as I’m truly an awkward introvert trying desperately to present myself as a polished extrovert. Did I also mention I’m social-cue illiterate?”

 

As he again felt the laugh come forward boisterously, he looked to Akiva, who also could not hold back a laugh as she sighed and spoke. 

 

“Okay. That was admittedly a good one,” Akiva paused only briefly to return to her annoyance as she continued. “All that noise aside, yes. Arwel is my elder brother by a couple of solar years. And I can’t believe you haven’t met him yet, as he never leaves me the fuck alone … which is why he’s not coming with us.” 

 

He looked over to Arwel, as a genuine look of dejection swept across his face. It was somewhat shared; his own sour countenance came over him due to Akiva’s harsh words towards her brother. He found the stubborn show itself, as he positioned himself between Akiva and Arwel while he announced. 

 

“Arwel may not be going with you, Akiva. But he’s hanging out with me for a while. So where I go, he goes. Which means we are heading down to Old Town to the factory village to help do a cleanup.” 

 

He looked at Akiva as she threw her head about in irritation and protested. 

 

“Did you not hear him? He said so himself, he’s social-cue illiterate. We’re going to a place that is rife with social-cues that are non-negotiable.” 

 

“And I will be his translator,” he argued. “Plus, we could use the muscle. That’s if you want to help.” 

 

He looked at Arwel as he nodded with eagerness. But as he glanced back at Akiva, the same reaction could not be shared, as she glared into the distance, but didn’t argue. 

 

As he returned his attention back to Arwel, he asked. 

 

“Now, that’s settled. If you don’t mind me asking, tell me about yourself. Do you live here in Melchior?” 

 

“I have a place near Nokahme,” Arwel answered.

 

But the answer wasn’t to Akiva’s liking, as she scoffed. 

 

“No. That’s not a place. That’s a store. You just happen to live in the backroom because your landlord is grateful somebody actually pays her and she, in return, turns her head.” 

 

He felt his interest piqued as he asked. 

 

“You got your own store? Where about? What do you sell?”

 

He felt another sweet grin come to him as he glanced at Arwel, whose expressions seemed to almost become bashful, as he searched for the full response. 

 

“Yes, I do. My store. It’s over in the area where they have the mixed-use buildings. That entire section of town that’s full of them. I’m in building seven-fourteen. I’m on the seventh floor, top floor, of the one. Was really glad I got that one as the ceilings are much higher so I was able to put in a loft for tables, shelves, and stuff.”

 

“Arwel!” Akiva exclaimed with agitation. “You’re taking his questions literally in order. You’re telling him about the loft which, by the way, Wayra put in for you, give credit where credit is due. But you’re talking about the tables and he doesn’t know the context of those tables!” 

 

“Sorry! Sorry! I forgot,” Arwel apologized quickly.

 

He felt Akiva’s lack of patience irritating in his own right. He moved his eyes to her and pressed a look illustrating such. Her reaction was unimpressed and was countered by a mild glower. He turned his attention back to Arwel as he spoke in a reassuring voice. 

 

“I should have asked the questions in a more linear fashion myself. My mistake. So, from the beginning, what’s your business?”

 

“I have a game store,” Arwel pronounced with a significant amount of pride. 

 

Miles felt his own sincere excitement rise in him as he emoted. 

 

“That’s amazing! I’m truly envious. How do you get any work done? I’d be playing the games all day.” 

 

“That’s pretty much what happens,” Akiva complained. “He has no set hours. Only open when he wants someone new to play against, or someone to talk to about the newest release. And the couple times a week he could actually make money, he hosts game nights that bring lots of people in; but then he provides them with the games to play with, so they usually go home without spending a single relit.” 

 

“I know. It’s not an optimal business model,” Arwel admitted.

 

“It’s not a business model at all!” Akiva fussed. “It’s an agglomeration of aims. Yes, this is Melchior and you being able to live there is a benefit. But you don’t even have to live here. I get it too, because everyone is stacked on top of each other like bundles in their living conditions, not a whole lot of space for proper gaming tables. Which you have because of the loft. But you don’t even charge anyone to come to play, you just let them show up and … ugh … at least you don’t feed them. But Deo, you spend relits on utilities and …”

 

“But they don’t have the relits to pay to play. That’s expensive. Who am I going to play with then?” Arwel asked.

 

“Arwel, I swear to Deo,” Akiva growled in a low tone, illustrating her patience with his reasoning was thinning.

 

Though he was still befuddled by Akiva’s very short fuse, a question of his own came to mind as the descriptives had unfolded. 

 

“Not to pry too much there Arwel, but how do you make money?” 

 

“Yeah, it confuses everyone how I can have my shop and really not be very good at running it. Tournaments. Game tournaments all over the world. I enter and most have great prizes. So I either get relits or sell off what I win. Akiva’s just sore because she never wins them.” 

 

“Shut up.” Akiva commanded. “And no, it’s not confusing. What it is … is aggravating. To know you’re living on the wins like they’ll never stop. Which isn’t true. Sooner than you’ll want, the wins will stop, and so will the relit flow.” 

 

“Yeah … I’m not worried,” Arwel responded faintly.

 

As Arwel slowed his pace, and his attention appeared distracted, he felt a perplexity come over him, wondering if everything was okay. But before he could ask, Arwel moved away from them abruptly and toward a set of buildings. He looked at Akiva for clues to what was going on. She rolled her eyes and began moving to the side of the walkway, out of traffic’s way, as she took notice of what caught Arwel’s attention. 

 

“What’s going on?” he asked. 

 

Akiva crossed her arms and gestured to Arwel, who went into a small local convenience shop, as she explained. 

 

“He just wanders off like that. Get used to it. But what’s going on is his attention has been diverted. He’s got a crush on some Corachal woman who works there. It’s well reciprocated. Lots of smiles between them and all the gushy-ness. I guess he saw she’s working, so he had to go without a word.”

 

He felt the light grin come to him; he fully understood that impulse, and from time to time, left a friend for a hanging moment to sate such whims. But as an observation came to mind, it also brought with it a question. 

 

“So we’re going to meet a Watzeen named Amir. You’re Akiva. Your brother is Arwel. Is this all a coincidence, or am I sensing a pattern here?”

 

“You’re sensing a pattern,” Akiva confirmed. “Watzeens follow naming conventions. If you’re born between certain solar years, your name follows a designatum sound for that time period. I, and all of my siblings, were born during the ‘ah’ sound for names. It’s not really a rule, but it’s a definitive cultural understanding that it’s followed like a rule. So much so, even those who are part Watzeen follow it as a homage to their heritage.”

 

“No, yeah. That’s really neat,” he observed with emphasis. But as his mind returned to the moment, he remarked. “Arwel. I like your brother. He’s very agreeable.”

 

“Not you too!” Akiva carped.

 

“What do you mean?” he asked with sincere confusion to her complaining tone.

 

“He’s charmed everyone to no end since day one. And he’s the literal definition of a savant, you know,” Akiva mused in begrudging admiration.

 

“In what area?” he asked. 

 

“Games. He wasn’t engaging in hyperbole about him winning tournaments and living off of that. He’s unworldly exceptional at games. It’s first time, every time, he plays a game. He’s so hard to beat. He loses on purpose just to keep people coming around. It’s like he’s Attata with his ability to predict the other players’ moves … strategies. His ability to understand the chance percentages of dice rolls or cards coming up next are akin to computations. It’s so amazing to watch and deeply frustrating to play against. I mean, he pisses our parents off, he’s that good. And when you know our parents, you’ll know what a big deal that is,” Akiva explained. 

 

“I’m not the biggest game person, cards aside. But I’ve seen some of those types of brilliance in ratiocination. Too bad he only applies to games and not computers; could always use more Dagdas in the world,” he reflected before he posed. “But I have to know, why all the acrimony? He seems like a really pleasing person to be around.” 

 

“Well, if he’s so wonderful, when he’s around from now on, he’s under your superior tutelage,” Akiva uttered with thick sarcasm. 

 

“Okay. You know what? How about this? You be the adult you’re claiming he’s not and be forthright with what issues you have, so I can judge based on what — and if — you have valid reasons for your point of view,” he responded, feeling his own sarcasm rising in his words. 

 

“Demanding and cerebral Miles is fairly sexy,” Akiva teased with a smirk. 

 

He felt his own grin come to him, but tried to focus on the question as he encouraged. 

 

“Why yes, yes he is. Good observation. Let’s continue that trend with the previously topiced observation I’ve requested.” 

 

He felt a small swell of pride, as Akiva laughed with kick to his banter. But as the laugh diminished, she sighed lightly and looked to the side, in almost reflection before she spoke with deep sincerity in her voice. 

 

“While my actions may not have illustrated such, truth is Arwel and I are good siblings … and I admittedly adore him. We’re really close in age, so we grew up attached, doing nearly everything together in our formative years. But from the start, he’s taken a guardian roll towards me. I’m convinced it’s because I’m kind of a mite in the sense of Watzeens, and he felt the need to make sure no one took advantage of that,” Akiva paused as she looked over toward the store Arwel had disappeared into before she continued. “But as you can observe, his personality is … not exactly congruent with my lifestyle … doesn’t plate up well against the people I run with and up against. And in him trying to be overprotective, I actually end up being the one doing the protecting.”

 

“You’ve brought this up with him?” he asked. 

 

He couldn’t help but laugh as Akiva’s face fell into an expression of disbelief, as his question was more stating an obvious. She confirmed as she responded. 

 

“Are you serious? It’s me. So yes, I’ve spoken with him. I have set boundaries and he is getting so much better at respecting them. And to his credit, he has gotten more self-assured in his own right; he isn’t a physical pushover and can hold his own. Just not as good at processing the emotional toil. He’s so sensitive. And that’s not a failing by any stretch. It’s only … it’s exhausting, in a way, being protective. I don’t want anything to happen to him anymore than he wants anything to happen to me. That brings about worry. And I have a worry threshold that goes from pacifical, to full-blown scorched-soil demon of hate and misery when that very thin line is crossed. It’s not good for anyone.”

 

He chuckled at Akiva’s descriptive and nodded in understanding. 

 

“You bring up a valid point. Most especially in what you said, the circles you run in and against. In those circles, some people’s inclinations can create more issues than they solve. To put it bluntly, picking up on cues can be a matter of life or death. I don’t know if anyone has brought this up, but I will propose this. You said he was a savant. A master at games, first time, every time. Perhaps look at it as a strategy game. One in which you suggest to him his strategy is best served in the back, figuring matters out for you to keep you safe. Not always, of course. But if you speak to him in a scenario that he best understands, maybe he’ll be more likely to abide by your wishes. Though him not coming along this time just feels petty on your part. Don’t know why you have a stick up your ass about it.” 

 

Akiva laughed as she pushed him in the chest playfully. 

 

“Because, you ass, I was aiming to get some one-on-one appropriate conversation in as we headed down there.” 

 

As he had a moment of clarity come to him, he pushed Akiva back as he joked with her. 

 

“Really? Well, let’s get out of here before he comes back out.” 

 

“Too late for that now,” Akiva scoffed playfully as she spoke. “To your other question. No. No one has brought up a proposal about how to approach him, because I haven’t shared this with anyone. So speaking of charming people since day one, you and him have something in common. Charming such deep impressions out of me. Perhaps in the future, you will charm other things from me.”

 

• • •

 

Miles felt the incongruity of his thoughts strike him, adding yet another element to the churning that pervaded his being. He was both sickened by — and yet in admiration of — the sight before him. 

 

The “factory village,” as Akiva had dubbed it, was a massive campus of buildings and constructions that housed one of the largest factories, by area, he had ever seen. To that, what its purpose was in its former life was unclear. However, in its current incarnation, it was as described: a homeless encampment of varying degrees. 

 

His surprise at the surroundings began far before they even came upon the “village.” He was under the impression, due to the fact that the factory had been shuttered — with Akiva additionally saying it was on the outskirts of the city limits in Old Town — that their travels would be on foot most of the way: something he wasn’t looking forward to. However, to his surprise, the transit line dropped them off at the front gate of the campus grounds. 

 

It was a moment of incredulity that spiked his blood pressure, as it was a case in point to the reality that the government was fully aware of what was happening. Knowing that working poor were living on the abandoned campus and doing nothing more than keeping the transit line to it active. And one could have argued the government was doing the people a service, by keeping transportation available. But his more cynical thoughts tended towards the service wasn’t operational as a gesture of benevolence by the government for the people’s benefit; but because so many of the people that lived here were actively working, and the transit stop was a source of income above cost. 

 

With that observation, there was an emerging apperception that illustrated how neglect can be far more insidious than active malice. 

 

But the anger, frustration, and even awe were cresting as they had entered the grounds and were making their way to the “north ward.” 

 

As they passed one of the factory buildings, he noticed it had been all but stripped down to its framework — by what he could only presume were the people who lived there, who were looking for materials to build dwellings. But while that was expected, a small building to the side, one in excellent condition, did catch his attention. Not only because of its appearance, but because of the line of people standing outside of it, waiting, all with boxes of various sizes in their hands or at their feet. 

 

He felt his head shake by reflex as he gestured and asked. 

 

“What’s going on over there?” 

 

“They’re standing in line,” Arwel answered in a sincere voice. 

 

“Oh, dear Deo,” Akiva groaned. “See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. But he’s your best buddy on this adventure, so you deal with him.” 

 

He felt the grin come to his face at Akiva’s comment, paired with Arwel’s literal response to his question. But as he pushed the grin down, he turned his attention to Arwel and asked in a more detailed manner. 

 

“Why are those people standing in line, holding those boxes, over at that small building?”

 

“Sorry,” Arwel spoke in a timid voice. “I really am trying to understand more situational conditions in questions.” 

 

“It’s okay,” he assured Arwel. “I’ll try my best not to overwhelm you with vagueness.” 

 

He felt another smile come to him; Arwel looked relieved and nodded as he spoke. 

 

“Yes. That building there. It’s one of several buildings on the property that still have electricity. People use it to charge the batteries for their portable power stations, their roamphones … whatever they need charging.” 

 

He knew the confusion was apparent on his face, as Akiva glanced at him, chuckled, and explained. 

 

“I can tell you’re wondering how the electrical company hasn’t figured out about that yet, and shut it all down. But if you can believe it, it’s all above board. Abridged version of the history: from what I know, the factory used to be part of Hylatee, and was still owned by them until a while ago. However, when people started making a home here, it was quickly pushed off, supposedly to someone in the Aileuti family. Not directly owned by Velocity Railways, but someone in that group. Not too long after, people noticed those sheds popping up, like overnight, with the charging stations. Rumor has it, Jacinth Hylatee, when he found out people were living here, did some kind of conveyance to his late father’s side of the family before his mother found out about it. They put in the electricity sheds for people to use, and from what has been told to me, the bill is charged to a fake business somewhere up in Mindis. The property taxes and the electric bills are kept up, so nobody down here questions it. It’s another reason why the people here haven’t been busted for trespassing. The owners know they’re here and, in a roundabout way, support it. Whoever is doing this even has a working arrangement with Melchior Sanctuary, as mail, for anyone who has to be here, is sent there care-of, so they can have medical and such. And … it’s part of the reason this is supposed to be a null zone. Factories are obligated to have their own security. And, only to call civil security, or in this case HEAGEN, if a crime in question is beyond legal parameters. HEAGEN coming on this property, when not requested, is actually them trespassing. But, you’ll have that.” 

 

He found the confusion even more acute as he considered all of what Akiva reported. It was something he was aware of, Jacinth Hylatee being a great deal different from his mother. But he presumed it was a carefully crafted persona. Artifice at best: nothing of substance. For if he was such a charitable man, how could he stand by and let things like Udo happen? Jacinth Hylatee had to have known. How couldn’t he? 

 

As the questions moved through his mind, they were halted by Akiva, who asked. 

 

“What’s that look on your face? You look skeptical.” 

 

“Yeah, no, I am,” he admitted. “Granted, I can’t explain what’s happening here. But I find it very hard to believe that Jacinth Hylatee has a hand in it. He presents himself as someone magnanimous, but it’s gotta be a facade.” 

 

He looked at Akiva and felt his confusion raise even more, as she had an excited grin on her face. 

 

“What are you grinning about?” he asked. 

 

“Oh, just looking forward to seeing you eat your words,” Akiva responded with a giggle. “You’re so damn smart and it’s just so satisfying to see a smart person get schooled. You’ll see.”

 

But before he could respond to her, to reiterate his doubt, they turned a corner of the large building and the sight before him prompted a gasp from the flurry of emotions that stirred.

 

The area before him laid hundreds of raised cement platforms, and buildings converted into shelters. And perhaps for some of the people here, a home. 

 

He felt his stomach sink — yet conversely, his wonder rise — as they moved through the area. His eyes scanned as he was eager to examine as much as possible in detail. And there was a great deal to see, as people ambled, worked, and lived as they strolled by. But in it all, his attention was particularly drawn to the rough-but-ready housing. 

 

As he looked around, he immediately noticed the platforms were part of the factory’s previous history. They were laid out in a grid pattern across the area, looking to be accessible to heavy machinery by rows. The platforms appeared to be four-by-four meters in size and were raised off the ground by about two meters: held aloft by four steel columns at the slabs’ corners and accessible by makeshift wooden ladders. Some of the platforms looked to hold on to their initial buildings, as they had bricked walls and metal roofs that featured oddly shaped doors, most likely based on their original purpose. Though, on some of the platforms, bricks had been knocked out to accommodate standard doors and even the occasional window. Yet not all the platforms were staged as such; as some, whose brick walls had fallen to time, were replaced by everything from wooden buildings to tents.

 

As he watched people work, he began to realize one of the more desperate parts of the setup. For many used the space below the platforms in an ingenious but dangerous manner, as he noted the scraped metal surrounding the legs of the platform; with at least one side fitting what looked to be a chimney. It was only another moment that passed when his suspicions were confirmed, as he watched a man pull back on the metal scraps and throw a lit fuel cube onto a pile of rubbage, setting it ablaze. The people were burning fires under the cement slabs to create a radiant heat for the structures above. 

 

He felt his head shake in astonishment at the level of poverty he was witnessing. It was unfathomable that one of the richest countries in the world had people burning trash under their floors to stay warm. It wasn’t just unfathomable; it was unconscionable. 

 

“Okay, I know this is upsetting to see,” Akiva spoke in a low tone, so as not to be heard by any outside their group. “I can see the tears welling in your eyes … but don’t you dare start crying. Wait ‘till you get back to Nokahme, like we all do.” 

 

As he looked at Akiva, his attention was taken by one of the wooden builds; it had crayon drawings, obviously done by children, pinned to the outside walls. His heart sank and nearly bottomed out as he realized children were living in these conditions. He shook his head as he choked out the words. 

 

“This can’t be real.” 

 

Akiva let out a vocal breath as she commented. 

 

“It’s very real. But come on now. You’re from the northern mountain woods. Y’all are poor as shit up there. This should be like a homecoming to you.” 

 

“Deo damnit, Akiva!” he exclaimed in a raised voice before he returned to a lower tone. “I mean, granted, yes, there were some very lean times. But nothing like this. ‘Cause I could never do this. These people are geniuses. I mean, when we first came in, I noticed one person was using old spring mattresses as fencing for their gardens. The ingenuity … I don’t have even close to this level of survival instinct about me.” 

 

“Oh!” Arwel voiced in an exciting tone. “Want to hear how smart they are? If you notice, there isn’t a whole lot of trash around, they try to keep it clean. But because of other factors, they were still getting lots of rodents that are a health hazard. So some of the people started building nest boxes — to attract birds of prey. They did their proper research, too. Building them to specifications and placing them a certain space apart — to avoid territorial disputes. Now, all the boxes are full of birds that keep the rodent problems down significantly. There’s one there.” 

 

His eyes turned to where Arwel was pointing — a tall pole that featured a large box, and some tree branches surrounding it from below to give the appearance of a natural setting. He shook his head as he marveled aloud. 

 

“Again. I don’t have this level of survival instincts about me. I could never be so ingenious.” 

 

“You’d be surprised to find out what you’re capable of doing when you’re faced with the unthinkable,” Akiva uttered in a disconsolate tone.

 

But before he could respond, Akiva’s pitch rose as she called out. 

 

“Amir! How is the sexiest Watzeen this side of Sanctuary doing?” 

 

He turned her attention towards where Akiva was looking, and noticed the man — who was in Consign trappings — approaching them with a magnificent smile upon his face. 

 

As she jogged forward to meet him, he noted Amir was as Akiva described: like someone had glued Watzeen wings on a larger-than-average Lost Peoples. But unlike a prior comment of Akiva’s — that Watzeen “wear it better” — he had to disagree. Amir was a beautiful man. Larger in stature like a Watzeen, his frame suggested one of muscular strength, as his body movements were a manner of graceful that could only be performed with extensive muscle control. His complexion, a deepest deep with a neutral tone, was flawless and matte: even on his clean-shaven head. His eyes — another feature that exhibited his Watzeen heritage — were a brilliant amber-red and shined almost as brightly as his smile.

 

“This is Miles,” Akiva said as she introduced him upon his catching up with her. “He’s new to Nokahme in all manners of operations.” 

 

“Welcome, Miles! Thank you for coming down to help,” Amir exclaimed with enthusiasm as he moved toward him and brought him in for a hug. 

 

It was one that surprised him; he wasn’t expecting such a warm and heartening reaction. However, it was agreeable, and he returned the hug with zest. 

 

As he pulled himself away and watched as Amir hugged Arwel with zeal. But as the hugs concluded, Amir gestured for them to follow as he spoke. 

 

“You all just missed Raer. She, along with some of the other volunteers, brought food boxes. Apparently, there was an excellent donation from the Phael group. People are feeling pretty happy.” 

 

“Well, let’s make them happier,” Akiva commanded. 

 

“It’s right around this corner,” Amir gestured as he led them forward. 

 

As they rounded the corner and his eyes fell upon the sight, he felt his mouth fall agape by reflex, as he viewed the mess left by HEAGEN. His thoughts came forth vocally in a tone that was reflecting his astonishment. 

 

“Dear Deo! I thought when you said rain barrels, they were those 200-liter-sized ones. These are huge! I hope no one was hurt when it collapsed. ”

 

“4000-liter capacity,” Amir confirmed. “And thankfully, no one was hurt when it collapsed, only some minor collateral loss. Additionally, the tanks, while they were pretty full, weren’t damaged. However, it did spill all the water. We had to scrounge for sheet boards to put down, as everyone was slipping in the mud the water brought up.” 

 

He shook his head and inspected the tank. The cylindrical tank appeared to be three meters tall and two meters in diameter. The tank was flat on the top, with an opening for a funnel insert and a vented manway, while the other end featured a cone-shaped bottom that utilized a gravity feed and a valve that was top tier to control water flow. As his attention came to the tank stand, he moved over to it and examined the construction. Made of timber, it appeared to be over four meters tall, with a hexagonal frame that was reinforced with alloyed joinery, braces, and brackets.

 

He placed his hand on the frame as he looked at Amir and commented. 

 

“This is superbly built. Very sound. I would sleep under this with no fears. How did the previous ones come down?”

 

“The people who live here are professionals. Artisans and masters of their crafts. They’re not here due to lack of knowledge, just lack of opportunity. As to how it came down. See, they’re not technically permitted to build anything permanent here, as they would then need permits and the bureaucracy that follows. The older towers were identical for the most part. With the exception of the vertical support posts, which were flush to the ground. Which meant when HEAGEN came through, they only had to cut through a couple of the support posts, and knock them out from under, for the whole frame to topple over. And that is what they did to all fifteen of them. However, a couple of days ago, in-ground footers were installed by the mysterious owners with official papers and all. And they just happened to have the perfect-sized mold outings for the support posts to ‘effort slide’ into. People took the cue and rebuilt again, this time using the footers. It will make knocking them down a great deal more difficult than just a single cut through the timber.”

 

He shook his head as a grin emerged, finding the awe towards the people who lived here resurfacing. But as he looked at the tank again, he noted with a question. 

 

“I can see why you needed some Watzeens to put the tank back in place; otherwise you would need a crane to lift it up. How can I help?” 

 

“What’s your deadlift max?” Akiva asked with a grin as she tossed some ropes to him. 

 

He felt his brow frown in question as his head tilted to Akiva’s query. But as he figured they had a plan in mind, he answered honestly.  

 

“On my best day, 210 kilos.” 

 

“I knew those muscles couldn’t only be for show,” Akiva declared. But as she gestured up to the tower, she continued. “We’re going to have you climb to the top, to that little spot there … that small platform. I’ll toss this metal bar up to you. Basically, you’ll tie the rope to the bar while the other end is tied around the tank. We’ll have a couple people down here using another bar to create a sort of half-assed pulley for leverage. And what you’re going to do … is a deadlift with the bar and rope. Using your strength to get the tank upright and make it easier for us to lift for flight. Soon as we get off the ground, just get out of the damn way. And don’t worry, the platform may be small, but it’s large enough for you to drive your heels for a proper lift.” 

 

He nodded and felt his smile rise to a beam as he was genuinely onboard with the plan, knowing it would work. He exhaled with a breath of charged determination and spoke in a spirited voice. 

 

“Well then, let’s go!”​​​

Book 1 — Chapter 33

​

Day: Hyningo

Date: 23

Month: Nokaokarium 

Quarturn: 1618

Location: The city of Cy’Istin, Bi’Iutxa

 

​

Tane brought into himself a deep breath, letting the salty air penetrate his senses, hoping the negative ions and their counterparts would bring to him the promised mood improvement. Not that his mood was particularly sour; only the day had been a long one, with questions to its end still unclear.

 

It was many hours ago, in the early part of the day local time, that they had collected the artifact and had left the island of Diboli in the Shattered Continent. The plan the moment they departed — given that they had completed their task well ahead of schedule — was to return to Hylaton to deliver the artifact, take a rest for all of Hyndinga to recover from the flight-lag, then leave in the wee hours of Hynwuo in order to attend the economic conference in Michi. It was an event that Jacinth had been looking forward to for quite some time. Not only because of the honor that was bestowed upon him as a keynote speaker, but also, the personal rewards that would be afforded to him. 

 

But like so many plans, they were subject to change based on the vagaries of life itself. The affliction that was set upon them was a massive storm that had formed directly in their flight path, above northern Akkad. It was one that was so severe and large in its nature; it forced them to fly around, almost as far south as the country of Waelo. However, their troubles only mounted, as Jacinth’s airship reported a critical error in its electrical functions that needed to be addressed immediately. 

 

Thankfully, they were navigating north and were very near the capital city of Cy’Istin in the country of Bi’Iutxa at the time. A further stroke of luck was that Cy’Istin, the capital city, was well populated, and had many services available — including an airship station that could inspect it straight away. 

 

The staff were incredibly kind: offering two pairs of movie tickets to provide them with something to do while they looked over the airship. It was a gesture that was well received, as Na’thot and Termi were both elated with the favor. In his mind, he wasn’t opposed to seeing a movie either. In fact, he found the offering quite brilliant. It allowed the shop a good amount of time to locate and assess the issue without a customer hovering and vocally sighing with every moment of perceived neglect towards their airship. Additionally, for them, it was far better than sitting in a waiting room or a beverage shop if no other activities were intended. And, given that the theater was in the same large, multi-leveled plaza as the airship shop, it appeared to have a reciprocal benefit for them both. Though perhaps one was benefiting more than the other. It was a thought that brought with it a chuckle, as he brought another deep breath, enjoying the gulf breezes, the air, and the setting sun. 

 

But as his eyes gazed out to the gulf, near to the plaza’s location, he felt a curiosity strike him; a sizable shipping vessel was coming into port. And while the vessel was painted red and white, typical of the colors found on such ships, it was one that had been recently repainted — a paint job that failed to hide the previous life of the ship. The bold black lettering of Hylatee Shipping was ever so slightly bleeding through. 

 

As he leaned forward to get a better perspective, he placed his hands on the safety railing and was struck by the coarseness of the metal under his touch. He knew it was corrosion due to the salt in the air, and because of such, he didn’t fully trust the railing under the weight of his lean. But as the ship continued to move, and the lighting changed, he wasn’t sure if he was seeing properly, as the lettering seemed to have vanished. As he leaned to each side, back and forth, trying to find the previous light perspective, he was suddenly startled as a voice spoke beside him. 

 

“Calisthenics?” Jacinth asked in a questioning tone. 

 

But as Jacinth had realized he had startled him, his pitch changed to one of ruefulness as he released a slight chuckle. 

 

“I’m sorry about that, Tane. I didn’t realize you were so deeply focused on what you were doing. Are you okay?”

 

“I am, I am,” he assured Jacinth. “I was looking at a ship out there. It looked to be a Hylatee ship, but painted over. It’s right there.” 

 

As he pointed toward the ship and continued his thoughts; Jacinth looked over toward it with attentive eyes. 

 

“The way the setting sun was reflecting off the water, it was just perfect to see the bleed-through. Though, as it kept moving, it lost the light … and then I couldn’t see it … and with everything going on, I sometimes wonder if I might not be losing my grip.” 

 

“You’re not seeing things,” Jacinth confirmed. “I don’t have to tell you this is of extreme confidentiality, so what I say here is not to be repeated.” 

 

“I understand,” he affirmed to Jacinth, who nodded and explained. 

 

“I feel comfortable enough to speak aloud, as I can’t imagine any Watchers could follow us here. But as you know, there are concurrently several plans to … disengage my mother’s choke-hold in some industries. One being the shipping. With what is a good percentage of the global west either being economically Hylatee-restricted or banned, it can place them in a difficult situation competitively for resources. With Ni’ihan, being over all the shipping aspects of the company, she recently allowed the sale of a significant fleet of Hylatee’s ships to a company out of Ts’He. It’s something that my mother isn’t exactly aware of. To her understanding, the ships were phased out due to age and salvaged.” 

 

He nodded as he looked out toward the ship again and commented freely on his thoughts. 

 

“It’s such a strange matter to my sensibilities. I understand where you and Ni’ihan are coming from … exclusive possession isn’t just bad for business … it’s bad for progress. It hurts growth and innovation. And in the case of your mother, it also is a means to hurt people. But it sits so oddly with me. I mean, you and Ni’ihan have to see some of the hypocrisy in it.” 

 

He returned his eyes to Jacinth, who raised his eyebrows and rubbed his lips together as he nodded slowly, presumably processing his comment. He worried he may have angered Jacinth with such a harsh assessment of the situation and quickly moved to amend his words. But as he brought in the breath to speak, Jacinth put his hand up with a gentle wave and spoke in an understanding cadence.  

 

“No. I read your visage and, no. What you said is a matter of truth. It’s not lost on either of us, or anyone in the Aileuti family, that we’re preaching one practice while also enjoying nearly exclusive control over the railway industry. Hypocrisy is the most fitting word. And it’s something we’re working on … they’re working on. Trying to find a way to change that. But I will say this in defense of the Aileuti side of my family. They are committed to using the current situation, influence, and resources they do have for economic and social change. I wouldn’t go as far as saying it’s a form of penance on their part — I know they would be giving at any stage of wealth. However, I also know what they are currently doing is an exercise in self-awareness of said privilege.”

 

He released the held breath. He was relieved having not angered Jacinth, but also in hearing how conscientious the Aileuti family was. But before he could respond, Jacinth let out a soft chuckle as he shared another thought of his mind.  

 

“And if I may. This … here … is precisely why I value our friendship. You’re not a ‘yes-man’ to me; afraid to call out the flaws in my actions. I appreciate your candid opinions. Thank you.” 

 

As a chuckle came forth, he shook his head and returned his attention out towards the ship, as it appeared to be waiting for the pilot ship to come and guide it into port. 

 

“You don’t need to thank me,” he offered. “I don’t believe we would be friends if agreeing with all your considerations was a prerequisite. But I am sorry if my verbiage may have sent you askew. I …” 

 

As he paused for a moment, his thoughts shifted as he noted something he had never seen on a Hylatee ship. He let out a questioning breath as he asked. 

 

“Not to change that subject, but do you know what those pillar-looking attachments are? In that array along the center of the ship?”

 

He looked at Jacinth, whose eyes turned out to the gulf and to the ship as he seemed to examine what he had pointed out. But as suddenly Jacinth had a realization, his mouth opened with acknowledgement and he explained. 

 

“Yes. I believe I know what those are for. When Ni’ihan said they were sold off, under the guise of being salvaged, they couldn’t get away with telling my mother all the morphiandum-based motor batteries were misplaced. So, I understand, they worked with the buying company and had smaller morphiandum batteries installed, and they retrofitted those vertical axis wind turbines for power generation. But indeed … this is what you were just talking about. The lack of innovation. They developed those in less than a quarturn as a way to power the ships on less battery … allowing for more cargo. Which means more money for them.”

 

“That’s amazing,” he commented with awe. 

 

“It is,” Jacinth agreed. “And so much better than the way my mother induces profit. Through the exploitation of her own employees.” 

 

“Deo, yes,” he groaned. But as his mind decided to steer away from the topic of Hylatee, he raised his tone as he asked. “And using ‘mothers’ as a good segue to change the topic again … how did you enjoy the movie? It had that weird mother subplot.” 

 

“It did indeed. But honestly, I’m a pain in the ass with fiction. I’m overly critical when it comes to logic. And that movie was rife with logical fallacies and poor critical thinking. It sucks me right out of the film and irritates the shit out of me.”

 

He felt himself burst into laughter as Jacinth’s tone was of sincere loathing toward the movie. He shook his head through the continuing cachinnation and noted. 

 

“Well, you’re supposed to suspend disbelief.”

 

“My mind is too rigid,” Jacinth confessed with a laugh. “This is why I’m no fun when it comes to fiction.”

 

He let a sigh release as the laughter had been so pronounced; it had sincerely made his stomach muscles sore. But it was a welcome event, and one that despite Jacinth’s inability to enjoy the movie, he was happy they had been offered the opportunity. 

 

Though as his mind considered what events came about to allow them such a moment, he suddenly realized something as he looked around. 

 

“Wait. Where are Termi and Na’thot?” 

 

“Ah, speaking of segues, this is an apt one for me. When I excused myself after we were leaving the show, it was because I received a message concerning the airship. There is some bad news, but some potentially good news. The bad news being the airship needs a new conductor for one of the functions. Further, it’s one they didn’t have in stock. They have sent away for one that will be here by morning. They assured me once they receive the part, it will be no longer than an hour to replace it. So with that news, we’ll be staying here overnight. I have already reserved some lodging for us and made dinner arrangements. As for Na’thot and Termi: I have given them leave, since I won’t need their assistance ‘till we arrive in Michi. They have decided to employ hired transport and take an airship up to Michi tonight so they can enjoy a day off tomorrow there.” 

 

He felt the breath release of natural contentment, as the bad news didn’t sound quite terrible. Having some rest before embarking on another many hours long flight was preferable. Further, being away from Hylaton was always something he would choose if given the opportunity. 

 

But he wasn’t clear on what the good news was, which prompted him to ask with a questioning turn of his head. 

 

“So, I’m processing many positives in this supposed bad news. What’s the potential good news you speak of?”

 

He felt his questioning head turn again as Jacinth smiled brightly. But before relaying his thoughts, his expression turned to one of reticence as he explained. 

 

“I’m not presuming to know your introspection. However, I noted in the movie, that scene in the grasslands, you sighed ostensibly in a longing manner. It prompted me to examine our flight path for tomorrow and, considering the open timetable we have … I wanted to propose to you a slight travel deviation. Perhaps a visit to Leu’Anna Station?”

 

He inhaled sharply as the suggestion brought with it an explosion of joy in his being as he responded in a tone of wanting. 

 

“Dear Deo, yes!” 

Chapter 33

Book 1 — Chapter 34

​

Day: Hyningo

Date: 23

Month: Nokaokarium 

Quarturn: 1618

Location: The city of Melchior


 

Miles placed the clean glass on the rack and announced with a flat pitch that surprised his own hearing, as it sounded so spiritless.

 

“And with that, we are done.”

 

He turned to Ash, who was leaning against the counter, as she offered a soft smile and commented in an ennuied inflection.

 

“And done early. Too bad it’s because of the lack of customers. Perhaps better this weekend.”

 

“Perhaps,” he repeated with a sigh as his eyes cast to the floor, looking at nothing, but with a mind processing a great deal. 

 

But his eyes did not remain on the wooden floor, as suddenly Ash was within his view: bent at the waist, head leaning in query, and eyes — large and deep — lowering with concern. She again smiled gently as she asked. 

 

“You okay?”

 

His eyes followed her as she stood straight and raised her eyebrows, waiting for a response. 

 

“Yeah, no … not exactly,” he admitted. “I hate to say that, because I feel like you’ve developed a perception of me and, in speaking my mind, I will be shattering the illusion you’ve developed concerning my positivity. I don’t wanna let you down.” 

 

He paused and felt a tiny pull at the corner of his mouth as she laughed, shook her head, and spoke with a flux of energy. 

 

“I’ve developed no such illusion. And yes, while I admire your positivity, I’m well aware that you only naturally lean into it. Honestly, if you weren’t moved towards despondency after what you and Akiva did and saw today, I’d harbor concerns of you being a sociopath.” 

 

He felt the chuckle come forward; not only were Ash’s words humorous to him, there was a slight sense of relief regarding his concerns. But his thoughts were drawn away as she continued. 

 

“There’s a sweet smile. And speaking of sweet … it’s fabled of you to worry that you’d somehow let me down. I don’t know what I have done to deserve such considerations, but … again … very sweet.” 

 

“No yeah, I don’t know if it’s something in the water, but I’ve gotten attached to all of you in an absurdly short amount of time,” he acknowledged with a chuckle. “I don’t want to let any of you down.” 

 

“Dear Deo, thank you for saying that!” Ash exclaimed with a breath of consolation. “I’m so glad I’m not the only one who felt such. I was all self-conscious about being absurd.” 

 

“Well, take comfort in this observation,” he offered. “The brief interval inclination towards us seems to be well reciprocated by the establishment here. So …”

 

“So it’s definitely something in the water that affects everyone?” she asked in a joking manner.

 

It was a question that tickled him further as he laughed and agreed, meeting her teasing tone. 

 

“Oh, definitely.” 

 

As they both laughed, he felt a soothing sensation come over his tight shoulders. But the comfort was far from complete. Even with the joshing he was sharing with Ash, his mind and emotions were still firmly fixed in the melancholy and outrage of what he had experienced that day. 

 

It was something that he couldn’t hide; their laughs faded, so did his expression. It was a bearing that apparently was communicable; he watched Ash’s shoulders slump as her own eyes cast to the floor with a sigh. But as her eyes returned to his, she offered a sympathetic gaze as she asked in a soft tone. 

 

“Would you like a hug?” 

 

He rubbed his lips together, as seeing Ash’s countenance of concern was causing him to shift some of his irritation towards himself, as he didn’t want her to feel distressed because of him. He pushed a grin forward, determined to lift the mood, as he joked. 

 

“Are we at that stage of our friendship?” 

 

He felt a rush of relief as her shoulders lifted, along with her smile as she returned the banter and responded. 

 

“Well, we’ve already set the standard for making haste. Might as well stay consistent.” 

 

As the laugh came forth with vigor, he let it flow over him, hoping the cheer would provide a sincere mood-lift. However, as he voiced the last chuckle, he found his state had remained mostly unchanged and he nodded and confessed. 

 

“I could use one, hone …” 

 

But before he had fully responded, she was over to him and brought him into her arms with a tight embrace. He let out a soft chortle and paused before returning the embrace, as he was taken aback by her apparent eagerness. As he returned the hold, he closed his eyes and hummed by reflex, as it was contact that he didn’t realize he had been yearning for. Contact that was lifting his more dispirited emotions. Energizing him to reject the urge to wallow in pity, but to be proactive in stopping the wrongs around him. However, his mind was moving from thought to thought quickly, and it returned to the enthusiasm that Ash showed in their current embrace. It brought forward another chuckle as he teased her. 

 

“You were primed for this hug. Barely let me get a ‘yes’ out.” 

 

He felt her torso bounce under his arms as she let out a brisk laugh. As she pulled away from him, continuing the laugh, she visibly breathed in to steady her voice and spoke. 

 

“Oh … No … You’re not wrong. I’m unabashedly a touchy-feely person. Usually right upon seeing people who are of close relationship-proximity, I will hug them. Hold hands. Lock arms. I do friendly kisses on cheeks and lips, too. But those are more when I’m either over-excited to see them or moved. I try to be mindful of dispositions … I hope you don’t mind.” 

 

“I don’t mind at all — welcome it even,” he assured her with full sincerity. But as he was enjoying her smile and lightness, he wanted to elicit more from her as he continued with a tease. “And now that I know this about you, I warn you: I will maliciously abuse your good nature with my selfishness. Testing how ‘huggy’ you really are.” 

 

“Well!” she declared around a laugh and continued with a sly grin. “Let the tests begin.” 

 

• • •

 

Miles climbed the stairs to the third floor with a vocal sigh. Ash had commissioned him to look for Wayra, who had somewhat disappeared. Well before they had closed the bar, Akiva had asked Wayra to come to the roof to see something, and they had not returned since. Though it seemed to be something of importance, as Akiva had mentioned, it had something to do with the matters that had “not gone to print” that she had alluded to earlier in the day. But from what he could discern, that had changed. 

 

It was a situation that had left Ash and him to clean and close the pub themselves. Not that he minded; the night’s customers were scanty and left them unconstrained from completing most of the closing tasks before they locked the doors. Further, it gave them a chance to talk and enjoy each other’s company and humor. Even allowing them to watch some television together in the commons room. 

 

But as the night deepened, so did Ash’s concerns. Ones that were only heightened as they watched the local news that near endlessly spoke of problems, sorrow, and a perspective that the adversities will never be solved or changed. 

 

He didn’t believe them. 

 

Yet, even if he didn’t subscribe to the hopeless narratives the news seemed to incessantly drone on about, he still had to admit that the unceasing relay of woe had diminished any and all positive feelings that had been instilled by Ash, their conversations, and their embrace. He was back to square-one in his sadness and anger. 

 

Too, with Ash’s falling to the social-engineering and propaganda of anxiety that the television news was proficient at, she let those negative emotions carry over to her concern about Wayra’s and Akiva’s whereabouts. And while they tried to cheer each other up — going so far as making Ta’ Chima’s “only fifteen-minutes of daily news consumption” pledge to one another — Ash’s unease couldn’t be softened. 

 

Now, as he climbed the stairs to the roof, he hoped finding out what was going on would both comfort worries and uplift moods. 

 

He opened the door to the roof and felt the wind push on the door, as if it were imparting some hesitancy in his actions. But as he pushed with more effort, the door flung open, pulled this time by the wind, causing it to thud as it struck the brick frame. 

 

He quickly grabbed the door and, with effort against the wind, guided it closed. But before he could turn and look to see if Wayra and Akiva were still there, he heard Akiva’s voice ask. 

 

“Is everything okay?”

 

As he turned and looked at Wayra and Akiva — who were sitting on one of the wooden benches that was left to accommodate rooftop living — he felt his brow furrow. He noted Akiva was looking at him with attention, but Wayra’s gaze was firmly on something else. 

 

“I came up here to ask the same thing,” he admitted as he approached them. “We were wondering what happened to you. Thought you might have left out the side-door without us noticing. Ash said she messaged you to no response.” 

 

As he came to a stand next to them, he noticed Wayra had still not taken his eyes off whatever was off in the city's distance. It was something that caught his curiosity; he looked off towards that area to which Wayra was looking, but saw nothing of consequence. As he returned his attention to them; Wayra turned his head slightly, still keeping his eyes cast out as he asked Akiva. 

 

“Take over for me for a couple minutes.” 

 

“On it,” Akiva responded as her attention moved from him out towards the city.

 

He felt his brow furrow deeply in confusion, as Wayra stood and let out a vocal breath of fatigue. Wayra looked at him and inhaled sharply as he spoke. 

 

“I’m sorry about that. I can grace Ash has been worried. We’ve been … actually, it’s just better to show you as I explain.” 

 

“Be careful speaking aloud, Wayra,” Akiva cautioned, still keeping her eyes fixed. “We don’t know who may be listening.” 

 

“True,” Wayra admitted. 

 

But it seemed to be something that could be dealt with, as Wayra pulled out his roamphone and opened up a program and executed its purpose. Wayra let out another vocal breath and continued to look at his phone as he commented. 

 

“I didn’t even feel the notification vibration of the message. I’ve been so tense into this … I’m over-focused.” 

 

“What did you just enable on the roamphone,” he asked, as his curiosity was getting the best of him. 

 

As Wayra replaced the phone in his pocket, he nodded and responded. 

 

“It’s a frequency that renders any long-range parabolic microphones useless. Even those fancy robotic drone ones. And Akiva’s right; people could be listening.” 

 

“Okay, processing that. But what’s going on that calls for such?” he asked, hoping for further clarification. 

 

He watched as Wayra gestured out toward the city, where he was previously looking, and asked. 

 

“Do you see that over there?” 

 

He focused his eyes and scanned the area carefully, looking for anything that could be deemed anomalous to what he expected to see. But as his mind wasn’t registering anything noteworthy, he felt his frustration rise, and he shook his head and admitted. 

 

“I see nothing but buildings, dwelling lights, and half-assed-maintained streetlights.” 

 

“Then you did see it,” Wayra voiced with a genuine look of pride in his expression. “This is part of why I knew you would be good for us … good for Idemere. You’re far better at holistic observation than you give yourself credit for.”

 

He returned his attention back out to the streetlight that could be seen between a narrow gap in the buildings as Wayra continued to explain. 

 

“When you don’t have an extensive budget, especially here in Melchior, we have to rely on the unconventional. To the average person looking at that streetlight, it’s perfectly innocuous. A light with a faulty wire that’s blinking randomly. But to the trained of Idemere, it’s a communication device that is imperative for our operations.”

 

“Are you serious?” he asked with amazement. “Someone tapped into that and is controlling the flashing of the light?” 

 

“Very serious,” Wayra confirmed. “The timing and length of the flashes are coded so we can be informed on what’s going on. It’s something that you’ll become more acquainted with as I teach you.” 

 

But before he could ask any further questions, Akiva spoke with urgency. 

 

“Wayra. You need to pay attention to this.” 

 

As Wayra returned his attention back to the streetlight and its flickering, Wayra uttered “shit” in a soft and dreaded tone.

 

He felt his pulse rise as both Wayra and Akiva stood simultaneously, knocking the wooden bench back to the roof flooring with a thwack. Akiva rushed to the edge of the building and jumped up on the parapet wall, with her wings opened partially and at the ready. He didn’t waste a moment as he let his voice come out in a plea. 

 

“Let me come with you. I know I can help.” 

 

Wayra gestured with his hand, as if he were asking to give him a moment, as his focus continued out toward the flashing light. But as his impatience was boiling over, he again spoke in an imploring emphasis. 

 

“I can do anything you need. Let me go with you.” 

 

But before anything further could be said, Akiva’s wings unfurled fully and with a concentrated push, she took flight straight into the sky — splitting the wind and causing a rush of air to move past his ears with a whoosh. 

 

“Arwel is already ahead of us. We have to go now!” Akiva called behind her in a cadence of trepidation as she hurried off into the night sky. 

 

He turned his attention back to Wayra, and he moved to ask again to go with them. However, the breath he brought in to speak was halted, as Wayra looked at him directly in the eyes and spoke in a firm tone. 

 

“I’m sorry, Miles, you can’t be part of this sortie. It’s not that you’re not capable. You’re more capable than you realize and it’s why you’re here. But you’re not ready. I know I sound like a complete ass right now, but trust my sights. With how dangerous it will be, what could happen would scar you. You have to come to some realizations before you can accompany us. I’m sorry.” 

 

He felt his mouth drop open, releasing the breath as he wished to protest. But nothing came forward in time, as Wayra didn’t wait for a response and left him with no further explanation. It was a moment that left him frustrated and unclear of what Wayra was referencing: his not being ready. A moment that pursed his mouth as he looked out toward the streetlight, which continued to flicker in its secret code.

 

• • •

 

Miles looked up at the entrance of the Sanctuary and released a nervous breath. It was one that was odd to him at that moment, to feel nervous. It’s not like he hadn’t been to Sanctuary before. Nor was it because he didn’t follow the Twenty-Two Pillars. He found them quite meaningful and worthy of practice to live a good, fulfilling life — even in one were devoid of a belief in Deo. But as he stood and considered, he supposed his tension was due in part to what had occurred after Wayra had left. 

 

Upon calming his frustration, he returned to the common room to find Ash, sitting on the couch curled up with her knees to her chest in dimly lit quiet. Ash had told him that Wayra had come to her before he left, and explained the situation in minimal detail. However, just before Wayra left, he requested Ash to advise him to seek Raer’s counsel to ready himself. Ash confessed she was unclear what that meant, but told him verbatim, as she figured he would understand the reference. And understand, he did. 

 

Though his first thought was to stay with Ash, who appeared to be even more stressed than prior to his conversation with Wayra. But as Naira had awakened via her graces concerning Warya and what was transpiring, Ash declined his presence and cheerfully encouraged him to go to Sanctuary. Relaying to him she knew Raer was minding the hall that night. So, with such insistence and assurance, he gave both Ash and Naira a hug and left them with some sweets he had been hiding from Akiva.

 

Now, with a considerable walk behind him to clear his thoughts, he was standing at the door of Sanctuary, unsure of his own nerves. But as his mind decided what he was feeling would not find resolution as he stood there, he opened the door and entered the Sanctuary proper. 

 

As he entered and moved forward through the vestibule, he looked around and noted that the Sanctuary was roughly laid out like all Sanctuaries. However, this being Melchior, it didn’t escape the cast of poverty’s shadow. For while everything was clean, it was also deeply worn and, in some cases, crumbling under time’s pressure. 

 

He walked slowly as he examined some of the geometric patterns that were built into the walls and ceiling. Each expressing another notion of Deo, the Universe, and their place within it. They were stunning pieces of line-art that stoked a rush of wonder in him. Encouraging him not only to feel relaxed as the waves and swirls instilled a sense of peace — but too, as his eyes followed the lines to larger and more complicated dimensional illustrations, to bestow an impression of connection. A kinship to something more. Something beautiful. 

 

But as his forward movement led him to the threshold of the hall, the essence of beauty he was feeling was quickly drained by the sights laid out before him. 

 

He let out a vocal sigh, as the hall benches were almost wholly filled with men, women, and children who were taking refuge for the night. It was a moment that churned the memories of the day in him, and with those, the feeling attached to them. 

 

But before he could ponder further on his thoughts, his attention was taken by a Consign as she approached him with a beautifully welcoming smile and spoke to him in a reassuring, but soft, tone. 

 

“Hello, and welcome. Your expression reads one of disappointment. Please don’t worry. We still have plenty of room upfront. Many people don’t care for those benches as there’s more activity up there, and can keep a light sleeper awake. But before I can offer you refuge, I must advise, we don’t permit weapons to be on persons during night stays. Many people chose us over the organized shelters because of violence. And weapons, even if they are only for protection, deprive people of peace. In that, you’re more than welcome to entrust your weapon with us while you stay. But if you’re uncomfortable with such, I unfortunately must insist you find alternative arrangements.” 

 

“I don’t have a weapon on me … or at all,” he assured the Consign. Though, as he considered his response, he suddenly realized he didn’t have a weapon. And without a weapon, how could he have effectively engaged in whatever dangers Wayra and Akiva had rushed off to?

 

But before his thoughts could further ponder one of the more practical — and now glaringly obvious — reasons he might have been denied, his attention returned to the Consign as she spoke. 

 

“In that case, I can happily offer you a place for the night.” 

 

He nearly chuckled, as the Consign turned and walked toward the center of the hall, gesturing for him to follow, but not letting him get a word in as she continued. 

 

“You’re lucky, as I have one blanket left. We usually aren’t this busy, but the wind is biting tonight and bringing more people in. Of course, we have some food and water available. Up there laid out on the stone table. Though I’m required to inform you, some of it may include scavenged food. Therefore, if you have any food allergies, we recommend you stay away from anything not in its raw … to avoid ingesting anything that may trigger said allergies. You’re welcome to help yourself, but in a mindful way that takes into consideration that others may be hungry.” 

 

As they reached the stone table, the Consign turned back to face him and pointed towards a pair of urns and explained. 

 

“This one contains cold water. This one contains hot water. Please help yourself while I get the blanket for you and …” 

 

“No. I’m sorry. No,” he interrupted with a chortle and a smile. “I’m not here for shelter in that sense. I’m here to speak with a Consign by the name of Raer.” 

 

“Oh!” the Consign exclaimed louder than she intended; she quickly brought her hands to her lips and covered them out of self-consciousness. However, her faux pas went unnoticed and failed to stir anyone. Upon realizing this, her hands moved down to her chest and hovered briefly over her heart, before she gracefully shifted them to gesture towards him with palms up in a motion that seemed to be one of welcome; one of which she was offering her being to him as her voice returned to the low, soft tone as she continued. “I would be that Consign, Raer. You must be Miles. It’s my deepest happiness to meet you.” 

 

“How did you know …” he asked as his question faded off in response to Raer’s expression. 

 

“Ash messaged to inform me you would be coming. And I’m so happy to finally meet you. I’ve heard more praises of you than there are words of praise.”

 

He again found a chuckle strike him, along with the heat rising on the back of his neck and cheeks. Yet, unlike most situations where he would continue to snicker and rub away the sensation — in almost defiance of the praise — considering what he was currently feeling as a response to the day, he felt his face contort to one of displeasure, as he was irritated by them. It was a response Raer seemed to recognize; she showed an expression of compunction as she spoke. 

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel sheepish with those truths. Only many have spoken so highly of you. I’ve been waiting with bated breath to meet you and I can see I’ve made you uncomfortable with my zeal. Please know, as a Consign, I can fully empathize with the internal pressure of high expectations. Again, I’m sorry to confer that on you.”

 

“Wow,” he commented in a mindful tone as the processing of her words quickly shifted his mood. “Thank you for being so aware. I … speaking of praise. I can see what Ash and Wayra are talking about. Your admittance, your awareness … it has oddly calmed me more than I would have thought such could. It has also impressed me with confidence that I can speak candidly with you. Well … I should say a combination of your words along with Ash’s and Wayra’s. But ingredients to a cook, not a baker, am I right?” 

 

He felt his mood lighten even further as Raer lightly giggled to his local aphorism as she nodded and affirmed. 

 

“That tickles me something pink; what you just said. I’ve been stationed in mid-Galu; and have been happily exposed to those phrases. I adore them. Honest and fun.” She paused as she looked around with a sigh. “Well then, would you like to have a seat as we converse?” 

 

He nodded as he looked around for an appropriate place for them to speak in some privacy. But as so many of the benches were filled with people using them as impromptu beds, he returned his eyes to the stone table and suggested. 

 

“I’m good with sitting here.” 

 

“We can do that,” she agreed with a nod. “Excuse me for a moment while I let our other Consign know I’ll be engaged for a bit.” 

 

Raer didn’t wait for a response as she rushed off towards an alcove to collect the other Consign.

 

He let out a vocal breath as he moved toward the side of the stone table, hoping that they would be out of anyone’s way, sitting to the side instead of directly in front. As he squatted down to his backside, he considered a funny observation that popped into his thoughts. However, before he could ruminate over it any further, his attention was brought forward. Raer moved in front of him, sitting herself to the floor in tailor style, and sighed as she placed a book and pen to her knee. 

 

As her eyes widened and her head nodded with encouragement, he presumed she was waiting for him to initiate the conversation. Though, unclear of what he wanted to talk about, he shared with her the thought he had that brought him a bit of humor. 

 

“When I sat down here, I couldn’t help but internally chuckle. Thinking it somehow appropriate to be finding council, sitting under the Twenty-Two Pillars. Like a cosmic reminder that to find true peace is to adhere to them.” 

 

“That’s a poetic sentiment. I like that,” Raer commented with a soft smile. 

 

But as she had nothing else to add, he again found himself trying to find a starting point to sharing his thoughts. He took another deep breath as his eyes looked around until they fell on the book that laid on Raer’s knee. He examined it for a moment and felt his curiousness pique; the cover had what seemed to be a bubble chart doodled on it — featuring upwards of a hundred circles on it. A couple colored in blue, a handful colored in green, while the rest remained white. He felt his hand move out towards it by curiosity’s reflex. But as his better judgment paused his initiative, it prompted him to ask. 

 

“May I?”

 

“Of course,” she responded as she met his hand halfway by handing him the notebook. 

 

As he took the book in hand, he examined the cover and asked. 

 

“Is this a packed bubble chart? It looks like one, but …” 

 

“You’re perfectly right, it is,” she confirmed with an enthusiastic nod before she further explained. “Well, I should say a modified one. Still representing a part-to-whole relationship with arguable relative proportions. The key’s on the inside cover. There’s no conclusive data that supports the chart. It’s just a personal reminder to be confident in what I do know. Yet, to remain humble because of my ignorance.” 

 

He opened the cover of the book and reviewed the words, which immediately brought a smile to his face. He paraphrased aloud in a manner to reaffirm he was understanding correctly. 

 

“What we know: colored in blue. What we don’t know: colored in green. What we don’t know, we don’t know: colored in white. This is perfection.” 

 

He closed the cover again to examine the composition and found a deeper admiration in the design and its representation. The simplistic beauty in the graphic realization that our collective knowledge was but a tiny fraction of all that was to be known. Not only in the questions that we couldn’t answer, but far further in the questions we couldn’t begin to conceptualize. He found his smile widening as he handed the book back to Raer and commented. 

 

“This is a brilliantly subtle representation of how, even though some of our ancestors have traversed the Universe, we’re still in our infancy when it comes to knowledge. There’s an intelligence in this kind of awareness.” 

 

“I can’t claim it,” she admitted as she took the book from him with a bright smile. “It’s something greater minds than my own came up with. I was touched by it, and felt it was an appropriate design for a commonplace book. Plus, I liked that chart’s aesthetic. It gives me the opportunity to fill in a bubble here and there when I come to an epiphany.”

 

Raer paused as she inhaled sharply and continued with a change of focus. 

 

“You speak of intelligence. I was told how deeply intelligent you are. It just now struck me, the words you just used when you first came in. That you weren’t, and I quote, here to seek shelter, in that sense. Now, knowing who you are and why you’re here, I appreciate that turn of phrase.” 

 

“That was purely by accident,” he admitted with a chuckle. 

 

“Ah,” she injected. “But true intellect is said to be best exhibited unrehearsed. As being able to exercise and apply your knowledge in the spontaneous. Granted, I don’t believe it’s a fixed and definitive rule, but it’s worthy of note. Worthy of a good indicative.”

 

He chuckled and shrugged, as he really didn’t have an argument to deny her words. But as he hesitated to respond, Raer again took the initiative and reported. 

 

“Wayra, of course, has spoken of you in more detail, mentioning you were going to be working with him in multiple capacities. Though he did admit that he didn’t think you were exactly ready. Believed conversing with me could help. That being said, I’d like to start from the beginning, if you don’t mind. What brought you here? To Melchior?” 

 

“Wayra didn’t tell you?” he asked with an inflection of surprise. One he couldn’t help, as he was confused; it seemed to him Wayra had shared a great deal with the likes of Akiva, Ash, and even Porter. But as he shook his head and focused on the question, he amended his question. “I … of course I don’t mind; again, I’m surprised Wayra didn’t relay my history.” 

 

“Wayra is a very complex man,” she commented in a factual tone. “He can be generous with information at times. And at other times, he will hold to the tenet that some of his knowledge is not his to share. How he applies this can vary from person to person. But, he believed your background was not his to share with me. Perhaps as a Consign, he felt you would convey to me things he was unaware of — and had he shared with me his version of events, it would have negatively colored my assessment. And in turn, hurt the effectiveness of what help I can provide you.” 

 

“I can see where he’s coming from,” he admitted as he considered Wayra’s reasoning. “But I’m going to need some latitude before I revisit those memories. Not out of distrust of you. Only getting close to my emotional cap here today. Want to use what’s left of that well to focus on the current and pertinent.”

 

“As is your prerogative. With no judgment or offense,” she assured him before she continued. “It’s a rarity for someone to come in here and have their troubles resolved in one counsel. I’m here for you, on your schedule, for as long as you need.” 

 

He felt the desire to smile, as her words were of comfort to him. Yet, his thoughts prevented the smile from forming. Instead, they directed down another road of consideration as he asked.  

 

“Can I ask you a question? As a Consign. As someone committed to the Twenty-Two Pillars. How do you personally reconcile any deviation from them?”

 

He kept his eyes focused on her face as she offered a sweet smile and visibly released a breath and responded. 

 

“Simply put: context. To many Consigns, context is key. I’m known in Consign circles for reminding people that there is always an exception to the rule. Including there being an exception to the rule, there is always an exception to the rule. The Pillars, in their overarching purpose, are to provide society with guidelines that, when exercised, protect each individual’s inalienable rights. And without question, some of these guidelines are wholly objective. As in no healthy mind can justify disregarding a particular pillar. No healthy mind can justify the act committed. I’m certain you can imagine which those are. However, due to everything from ethnorelativism to moral futurism, we do find that some guidelines can be rendered subjective. Again, there are some absolutes in morals. However, there are some contingent on context.” 

 

He continued to focus his attention on Raer; her head leaned to the side as she asked a return question he figured she would deduce from his. 

 

“Are you — as you are becoming informed with what may be required of you in Idemere — finding concern in what acts you may be asked … or compelled, to commit?” 

 

He felt his stomach drop and a lump rise in his throat to the question, as it was one that he had been unable to articulate to ask himself. 

 

“It’s not what may be asked that worries me. I’m fairly confident that Wayra will not demand me to engage in any premeditated malefactions that aren’t inconvenient for the right people at best, petty towards the unfortunate at worst. It … it’s the ‘compelled to commit’ that’s weighing on me. I …” 

 

As he couldn’t find any further words to share, he looked toward the ground and released a breath of nervousness. One that eluded his rational mind on why he would feel such. But before any further words were shared, into his view came Raer’s hand in offering. He raised his head and examined her empathic expression. It was a welcome sight and gesture, and he reached out and took her hand and gripped firmly. An action that brought with it a light smile as he asked. 

 

“You’re right. My concerns will not find placidity tonight. There’s no urge in urgency. I guess I wouldn’t mind sitting here in silence, accepting your comforting hand for a while. If that’s okay?” 

 

“It’s okay. You’re okay, Miles.”

Chapter 34
Chapter 35
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