Exalted: Chainbreaker

[blueJane]

Chapter 6: Pangu

Delai Rokuso was annoyed. With every tap of her foot against the interior of her skiff, that annoyance was conveyed through every splinter, setting up a vibration that stirred up the waters in which the skiff rested. Those vibrations ventured out through the water around her vessel and were almost immediately swallowed by larger waves of annoyance from every other vessel docked in Pangu.

An announcement had come through the previous evening that all commercial traffic in Pangu was to be halted until an Anathema discovered on the Blessed Isle had been apprehended and dealt with. Of course, such an announcement wouldn't normally stop Rokuso, but by the time morning had come around, both the tide and the winds had turned strange. Both seemed to be contriving to keep vessels in port, and while Delai was confident she could best both if she really wanted to get back out to sea, it would be very suspicious for a lone skiff to escape the tide, and the wind, and the Earth Fleet's cordon around the port. She didn't yet feel like picking that kind of fight.

"Well well, what do we have here? An unregistered vessel lurking at the edge of the docks?" The voice was wheedling, nasal. Delai tilted her head up slightly, glancing out from her berth between the skiff's seats.

"Already paid up my fees, most honorable ser," Delai drawled. "Don't have any goods either. Woulda been gone this very morning, but for the announcement and, well, all this." A dark-skinned arm rose and flipped its hand back and forth listlessly, as if to stir the windless sky

"Ah, but there are also the ongoing docking fees." The official, with sallow skin and a thin little mustache that drooped past his lips, shifted from one foot to the other, adjusting yellow robes made heavy with the clink of coin. At one shoulder was a stone-faced guard, easily a head taller than him, holding a spear with a yellow sash in one hand with the bored stance of someone who wouldn't mind getting the chance to stab someone or something today. "While the current delay is regrettable, I will still need to assess a fee for each day you remain in port-"

His voice guttered to a halt as Delai gripped the seat on her skiff and leveraged herself off of it, stepping off the elevated deck of her boat and onto the dock in a single stride. The man had to look up, and then up again, to look Delai in the eyes, and the guard at his side began to visibly sweat, brow twitching as he too had to tilt his head upward to meet her gaze.

Delai Rokuso was massive, with corded muscles made lean and powerful by years at sea. Her dark skin was covered in bright tattoos, many white, some glittering as if made of gold, in lines and circles and abstract shapes. While her clothing was ragged, it was also so vibrant it almost hurt the eyes, sky blues and fiery reds and sun-hued yellows draping freely where modesty demanded. A similarly bright red bandana contained a mass of carefully-packed dark braids on her head. The eyes that rooted both official and guard to the spot were golden-orange, shining with easy confidence.



"Come now, my man! If you're after my money, I'm afraid you'll have to ask the last official who was here. If I'm to bring in more goods and fees for you, it'll be when I'm able to depart once more. Surely you've got bigger, more lucrative vessels to tax?" She gestured at her skiff. Compared to most of the other trading vessels at port, it was both far smaller and incredibly unconventional; a narrow canoe's hull and an outrigger linked by a single deck and a wooden frame, with a single mast shaped like a crab's claw protruding from the main hull. A small cabin rested on the deck opposite the mast, a few crates inside it. "You're welcome to examine my vessel for compartments and leftovers, but unless you have a hunger for hardtack you're likely to be disappointed."

The official blinked several times, as if recovering from a sudden windstorm. "Erm… well… you do have a point, but I warn you that if your vessel is found to be obstructing any others coming into port-"

"Any other vessels? My good man, everyone here is becalmed! I've not seen such dead winds since my last trip to Paragon. Trust me, the moment so much as a zephyr pops up, I'll be gone." She patted the official's shoulder. "Though if you're as bored as I am, perhaps I can keep an ear out for whispers on the docks, eh? I may not have the coin to pay you with, but you never know what might be heard around here-"

"Enough, enough, you've made your point." The official waved her away. "If you've been here this long, you'll have heard, but there may be an Anathema approaching the port. Avoid them if you can, and if you have word of them, report it to us as soon as you can." The man hurried away with indecent haste, guard in tow, both eager to be away from Delai's overwhelming presence.

"Of course, ser!" Delai called after him. She watched him go for several seconds, before stepping back into her skiff and curling back up in her sleeping spot, shaking with mirth.

She started to flip through the little book of records she'd finessed off of him when he'd been distracted, and considered the warning. It was a touch ironic, but maybe it was also a sign.

There was a wind coming, and Delai had a feeling it was no mere zephyr.

—

Petal set Jingles down and then immediately had to catch him as he keeled over on the spot.

"Utter insanity… you ran for two damn days straight and you… we're… you don't even look winded!" The merchant muttered as Petal rested him against a tree.

"We did rest. I just didn't need as much as you did." Petal said, stretching out her arms as they were finally relieved of the merchant's weight. She glanced towards the sunrise. "You said last night we were close to Pangu now. If I climb one of those trees, can I see it from here?"

Jingles nodded sullenly, and Petal immediately sprung into action, ascending up a nearby tree as quickly as she would sprint across a field. In a moment, she was balancing near the top of it, looking out across the surrounding landscape.

In the distance, she saw what looked almost like a barren forest, before her sharpened eyesight resolved it into individual shapes. Ships at rest, their sails rolled or packed away, scattered across the expansive docks of one of the Isle's largest ports. Larger even than the docks was the city, an irregularly checkered carpet of sweeping gables divided by stone and dirt roads, filled with inns and warehouses and all of the facilities necessary for a thriving trade port. There were also mansions, richly appointed and ostentatiously decorated estates for Cynis scions who made the city their home, each trying to eclipse the others in displays of wealth and nouveau architectural style. It seemed to sit heavily on the land, and Petal wondered if there were even more buildings beneath the surface, cellars and foundations and old buildings buried by new construction. At this distance, Petal's eyes could only pick up the vague blur of motion that indicated the movement of hundreds, maybe thousands of people already up and about at this early hour. Less vague shapes could be picked out moving around the outlying fields, at least a few roads leading to outlying farms and farther afield. She picked out the distinctive strip of black stone that must be the Imperial Highway, entering Pangu from one end and exiting the other, and the broad gray hues of other major roads leading deeper into the province.

The sunrise felt warm on her skin, and she found her gaze drawn to it. Something stirred in her heart as she watched that great beacon stretch its arms across the sky, pushing back the veil of night.

Petal shook herself out of her reverie and spun around the treetop, turning her gaze back towards the west. There had been no signs of pursuit, thankfully, and yet… sometimes, it felt like she could pick out terse voices on the wind that had blown at her back the entire journey. Not loud enough to pick out anything but tone, but it put Petal in mind of the way hunters spoke. Quietly, shortly, purposefully.

It was best to assume that even if she couldn't see it, the Wyld Hunt was at her back.

She leapt from the treetop and landed delicately back on the ground where she'd left Jingles, who was sullenly chewing on some salted meat from a stash they'd picked up the previous night.

"No sign of pursuit, and I can see Pangu from here. There are people moving into and out of it."

"Anything else?"

"Not that I'd recognize. Is there something I should be looking for?"

"Distinctive sails, signs of the Earth Fleet, military encampments outside the city…"

"No, none of that. No sails at all, actually."

Petal noted the shadow that crossed Jingles's face.

"Is there a problem with that?"

"...Just means you might be waiting a bit to leave. Time you might not have." He muttered.

"Then.. shouldn't we go…?"

"Wait just a moment." Jingles rose unsteadily to his feet, leaning heavily against a nearby tree until he could finally stand unsupported. "I've let you… haul me across the damn Isle in the interest of speed, but from here on out, you need to listen to me and follow my directions. House Cynis owns that damn city, and I know damn well at this point that you're… a runaway slave. So you keep your damn head down. Doesn't matter who you see, who you think you recognize. You take care of your own damn self and follow me, got it? Don't speak, don't look anyone in the eye. You're my mute bodyguard, if anyone asks. Watch my back, and I'll get you onto a boat off the island."

The hairs on the back of Petal's neck prickled. He is hiding something. He is terrified of you. He will seek a way to betray you. Petal took a deep breath and nodded.

"Okay. I can do that." Between her time with Kallas and her studies as a monk, staying silent for long periods came to her more easily than speaking.

"We'll also need to wait until nightfall for me to meet my contact, but I know a place we can stay until then. Remember: follow me, don't speak to anyone, don't look anyone in the eye. Got it?" Jingles rose and stretched, patting his legs to get feeling back into them.

Petal nodded silently.

"Already getting a start on not talking? Good. Now come along. We'll need to be careful about how we approach the port."

—

The approach turned out to be careful, long, and dull, and it was mid-afternoon by the time they'd made it into the city proper. Jingles had shoved something into a guard's hand and had been nodded through a gate after a few moments of anxious waiting. It was the most people Petal had ever seen, and her new senses made it hard to tune them all out. Bright yellow silks and banners decorated the markets as if for a festival, every window and door decorated with streamers in matching colors. She caught dozens of conversations as she followed Jingles through the market, almost all of them concerning the transport, sale, and consumption of goods. Petal remembered some of the names as drugs that Kallas had partaken of at some part or another of her durance; others must have been newer, more exotic, or too dull for a Dynast's palate. Despite the festive coloration, the mood of the crowds was… anxious. She caught the word Anathema being muttered multiple times, though never directed at her or Jingles. There were other complaints; there had been no wind since the previous evening, and the tides had gone strange, keeping the vast majority of ships in harbor.

It was hard to remain calm. The prickle at the back of her neck had turned into a tension that was spreading through her body. Some sense beyond her eyes and ears was telling her that danger was closing in. She moved closer to Jingles; few gave the man a second glance, and fewer still spared one for his 'bodyguard'.

She'd almost managed to convince herself things were going to be okay when the crack of a whip rooted her feet to the ground.



---
[Author's Note: I'd like to specifically shout out [my editor] this chapter for checking me on the capabilities of a Solar with athletics charms and the subsequent alterations in travel time. Also, hope you're all enjoying! Drop a comment if you feel like it, I love feedback.]

 

[NBBTCS]

Oooh another Solar! Good timing too considering Jingles' apparent inevitable betrayal, then again if Petal starts cracking slaver skulls he might not get the chance to sell her out before shit hits the fan.

 

[Jensaarai]

I'm getting the feeling Petal might not be the subtle type when it comes to slavery-shit happening in her vicinity.

 

[Bohnenpflanzer]

Oh boy. We might see a Limit Break already?
Possibly Compassionate Martyrdom as Virtue Flaw. Maybe Berserker Anger.

 

[Scia]

The art continues to be a very good draw of the Story because sometimes a picture can hit harder as a punch then the words that her caste mark glowed for example.

 

[blueJane]

Oh boy. We might see a Limit Break already?
Possibly Compassionate Martyrdom as Virtue Flaw. Maybe Berserker Anger.

Click to shrink...

My thought here is that Limit, Limit Breaks, and Virtue Flaws are less "What the actual mechanics of the Great Curse are" and more a convenient shorthand to introduce the epic emotional stakes appropriate to your game. The way I want to use the Great Curse was summed up very well by my friend Niko:

You will do exactly what you want to do, in the worst possible way.

The art continues to be a very good draw of the Story because sometimes a picture can hit harder as a punch then the words that her caste mark glowed for example.

Click to shrink...

Thanks! I'm trying to make sure the writing can stand alone. I'm happy with the art, but it serves best when it enhances the work, rather than shoring up weaknesses in my writing.

 

[blueJane]

Chapter 7: Flame

The street they were on was connected by an alley to a wide-open market space that had been cleared out to make way for some kind of procession. A single glance told Petal that these were more slaves, the chains binding them and ropes linking them proof enough of that. The source of the whip crack was some overseer standing over a trembling, crying woman with corn-yellow hair and peachy skin, who was trying to shield a similarly bound child from the whip. The woman babbled in a foreign tongue, clearly begging for mercy or leniency.

"What are you doing?!" The whisper came through gritted teeth, and she felt Jingles tug at her arm. "Keep moving. We can't afford to be noticed-"

Something was boiling up out of Petal's chest. She could feel sweat pouring down her neck and back. The feeling had been suppressed while she'd had wide open fields to run through, but right now the streets felt like the manor in which Kallas had kept her for years, as prisoner and plaything. Dusty streets became cold corridors, while the eaves of the buildings around her stretched and reached for each other until they were a cage over her head, locking away the sky. The sound of the whip cracking against the woman's face again echoed through Petal's skull and directly into her past.

She yanked her arm away from Jingles and started walking towards the massed slaves.

"Damn fool! Are you insane?!" Jingles tried to grab Petal again but she shoved him away easily with one hand. The sound of the whip was ringing in her ears, drowning everything else out. The overseer was bellowing something at the woman, while guards moved forward to drag her away, separating her from the child. The overseer raised his arm again, whip whirling in the sun.

There was another crack. It was a little muffled, but louder and wetter, accompanied by a sharp shriek of agony. The overseer stared at the limb that had previously held the whip, now sporting an entirely new 90 degree angle along the forearm, and collapsed into an unconscious heap on the ground.



The guards holding the yellow-haired woman looked up and immediately caught simultaneous jabs to their throats, collapsing in shaking, silent heaps. Petal hadn't bothered to pull the punch, and part of her was certain she'd completely crushed their windpipes.

For a moment, all was utterly silent. The blonde woman and her child stared up at their robed savior, jaws agape. The other slaves glanced up from their manacles; there must have been dozens of them, from places Petal could scarcely imagine. The slaves' skin ranged from dark as old oak, to the leafy green of the far East and the pale almost-white of the North, but on every single face there was a mixture of awe and fear.

The silence was broken by a shrill whistle. Petal had barely noticed the other guards on the opposite side of the clearing, but they had definitely noticed her. One was blowing hard into an alarm whistle while the others charged around the mass of slaves towards her, spears at the ready, yellow tassels whirling in the sunlight.

There wasn't time to think. Petal had sparred with other monks, but had never had reason or opportunity to study battle beyond duels. As she ran forward to meet one of the guards before they could flank her, she considered that she might be in serious trouble… there would be more guards here soon, and if they realized she was Anathema, and trying to protect the slaves…

She had to free them, and fast.

Reflexes took over as she closed with the guard. He thrust a spear in her direction, and she flickered around it like a flame, closing with him before he could even begin to pull the weapon back. Punch to the face, hook leg around foot, flip onto ground, grab weapon, finishing blow to the neck…

Petal blinked, and realized that the guard was already on the ground bleeding, his yellow scarf sporting a growing red bloodstain. No time to think; his fellow guard was closing in, rounding the corner of the cowering mass of slaves.

Petal had used throwing knives before, but nothing with the length and heft of the spear now in her hand. Nonetheless, when she went to throw it she felt a tug of instinct that she immediately followed, and the spear careened from her grasp with a whistling shriek as it pierced the air, followed by a wet shulk as it passed through the guard's eye and out the back of his skull, embedding itself in the building behind him with a discordant thunk, an unspeakable mass of blood and skin and bone pinned to the wood by the spearhead.

She was still moving forward, reaching the man's corpse before it had fallen to the ground, in enough time to grab a new spear out of his hands. With it, Petal sliced through the nearest four lengths of rope, freeing the slaves from their bindings to each other. She snatched a key off the nearby guard and shoved it into one of the slave's hands.

"What are you waiting for?! Free the others and run!" she gasped out to the slaves in front of her. They stared back, gawping and uncomprehending. Of course. They couldn't understand Low Realm. Their masters hadn't yet had time to teach them even the basics. Gritting her teeth, Petal pointed the tip of her spear at their legs, then pointed at one of the alleys leading out of the market square.

"RUN!!!"

That seemed to get through to many of them, at least. Several rose on uncertain legs and ran for the opening, while Petal set about cutting through more ropes, running down the rows as quickly as she could. The man she'd given the key to started unlocking manacles and padlocks as fast as he could despite his trembling hands. Not all of the slaves ran; they simply continued to cower, but at least a few had a chance to make it to safety.

New screams immediately drew Petal's attention. The alleyway the slaves had started running down was now crowded with bodies trying to run the other way, and she could see the black helms and yellow headwraps of guards beyond.

"Dragons strike me-" Petal whispered, realizing she'd pointed the slaves straight into an ambush. She forced her spear into the hands of a nearby slave. "Keep freeing them!" She called back as she sprinted towards the alleyway like a streak of lightning.

The guards must already be surrounding the square. She had to create an opening for the slaves to flee through, and from there she could…

She could…

Do what? This was the heart of Cynis territory. This was one of their most important ports. It was all but certain they'd have Princes of the Earth in residence. She'd just been looking at their residences!

She put the thought aside for the moment. Focus on surviving the next ten minutes, saving who she could. Then figure out what the hell to do from there. She leapt over the crowd of slaves in the alleyway. Some had already fallen to the spears of the guards coming through the other way, and Petal felt as if a golden mist was filling her vision, highlighting those guards with splashes of blood across their armor and on the tips of their spears.

She fell into the mass of guards like a storm of flame.



—

Cumula and Rakel were riding hell for leather towards the port of Pangu. The heliograph tower over the city was flashing an open warning with its mirrors.

Anathema Here.

"Another notch for your hunches, eh?" Rakel called out from the back of her steed.

Cumula kept her eyes on the road. "You can shower me with accolades later. We know who the Anathema is likely to associate with. If we don't reach her soon, she might trigger a full-blown slave revolt."

"Nothing the Cynis haven't put down before." Rakel said, rolling her eyes but nevertheless spurring her horse to gallop faster. Flames of essence licked the air around the two of them, lending the duo and their steeds another burst of supernatural speed.

Cumula kept her own counsel on the capabilities of the Cynis. It was true that they knew their way around suppressing slave revolts, but things were never so simple with Anathema. Their demonic powers could turn cowering slaves into hardened warriors who would fight and die for their unholy patron, and Pangu routinely processed thousands of slaves a week, perhaps that many in a day during a particularly busy season. Wittingly or not, the anathema was a flame that had leapt into a keg of firedust, and Cumula wondered how long they might have before the explosion engulfed the entire province.

—

Petal stared at the unmitigated disaster around her, her cheeks streaked with tears, dirt, and blood.

The bodies of slaves, torn apart by the spears and swords of Cynis guards, littered the streets as she led a group of escapees in the general direction of the docks. She'd tried to keep a handle on the slaves with her, but few understood her, many were fearful, while others seemed to be gripped by a sudden fever of rage and had run off with weapons looted from guards. All was chaos, and Petal could smell smoke; somewhere a warehouse had been set aflame.

One of the slaves cried out and pointed a spear down the street they were on. Petal turned and saw what he was pointing out: a man in bright green armor with similarly colored hair, brandishing a sword as tall as he was.

A Dragon-Blood. One prepared to fight, at that. Petal gritted her teeth, and flung her arms out to stop the slaves running with her.

"Fall back! Find a way out of the city! I've got this one," she cried out, hoping that the slaves would understand at least the basics of her order.

"Anathema, you should know better. The Princes of Earth do not fight alone." The man in green said mockingly, and Petal became aware of a cry of agony from behind her; another figure, this one dressed in black and blue armor, had appeared on the street behind her group and was already charging into the rear, cutting a swathe through the unarmored slaves with his spear.



"No!" Petal turned and prepared to leap over her group to engage the man fighting her companions, only for her reflexes to force her to duck. She felt the sting of wind on her neck as it ripped through her clothing, just barely missing her skin, and then rose to find the slave behind her looking down at the haft of a spear sprouting from his chest. He had just enough time to look up into Petal's eyes before he collapsed, and Petal turned back around to see the Dragon-blood in green slowly approaching her, blade in one hand and another spear in the other.

"Know this, Anathema! I am Cynis Tumas, and I will weed out the corruption you have brought to this place here and now."

Petal felt the golden haze fill her vision again. "I didn't want this," She whispered, hands trembling as she took up the first stance of Water Dragon Style. If she tried to fight both Dragon-blooded at once, they'd just slaughter the few slaves left; if she knocked one of the dynasts out of the fight quickly, those following her might at least have an escape route. With a shout, Petal made the first move, rushing to meet Tumas before he could bring his weapons to bear against more of the slaves.

Cynis Tumas was clearly immensely skilled; he actually reacted to Petal's charge, readying both blade and spear to meet her. His weapons lashed out with superhuman speed, seeking to prevent Petal from closing with him. The air seemed to fill with the sensation of thistles, sharp thorns biting at Petal's skin. She recognized the sensation, almost identical to Kallas' elemental anima, and ignored it for the moment as she danced around the man, seeking an opening in his defense.

"Look around you, Anathema! Your revolt has failed. We will purge our stock of your corruption, and business will continue as usual." Tumas said mockingly. "Do you think you are the first Anathema to lead slaves against us? There are always those amongst the chattel who turn to demonic powers rather than accepting their place in the Immaculate hierarchy!"

Those words stung far sharper than the elemental essence whirling around him. For a moment, Petal slumped, as if staggered, and Tumas leapt upon the opening.

Exactly as she'd anticipated.

It was as if he had tried to slice through the sea. Petal flowed between the blows, occupying all the space in which the weapons weren't, and a moment later was inside his guard.

Tumas was well-armored. As strong as her fists had become, striking at it wasn't likely to avail her. Instead, Petal went for a throw, whirling around him and taking hold of his leg and waist, trying to throw off his center of gravity.

Strangely, he didn't even move to stop her, and Petal realized why a moment later. Vines of essence were rooting his feet to the ground and giving him a precious moment to right himself from her attempt to tug him over.

Still, she was inside Tumas' guard, and as he'd tied his own feet down, his only choice to fend her off was to try to strike her down. She dodged another attack from his spear and blade, and then realized one part of Tumas that was vulnerable.

Tumas gasped as Petal leapt up and wrapped an arm around his throat. When she tightened her grip, she could hear something creaking, and the Dragon-Blood started to splutter and flail about, utterly failing to land a hit with either blade or spear. After a moment, he dropped the spear and scrambled to try to get a grip on the chokehold.

Petal tightened her hold. This was a Prince of the Earth, not one of her monk sparring partners. She probably wouldn't kill him even if she put all the strength she could muster into the hold, but he was making several choking and gasping noises that seemed to indicate there were limits to his stamina. Even the sharpened tips of his gauntlet couldn't get a strong grip on her arm, and she ignored the sting as he drew blood several times in the attempt.

"Stop! Release him, Anathema!" A commanding voice boomed. Petal glanced past Tumas and saw that his compatriot, the armored figure in black and blue, had all but finished carving their way through the rest of the escaped slaves. They had left one alive and conscious, and were now presenting him with one massive gauntlet wrapped around the man's neck, held at arm's length away from the armored figure. The captured slave had tanned skin, curly black hair, and the beginnings of a beard; even through the chaos, Petal could see his eyes, brown and bright with fury. Despite the tightening grip on his neck, he still flailed and struggled against the armored gauntlet holding him fast.

"Reinforcements are already on their way! You cannot hope to contend with the Exalted Host. Release him and surrender, and there may yet be some leniency for those you tried to corrupt." The figure spoke, their voice echoing through their armor. The slave in their hand trembled and struggled, gasping for air as the Dynast's grip tightened around their neck, but they still seemed to be trying to shake their head.

Petal gritted her teeth. The moment she released her grip, she knew Tumas would likely try to pin and slay her then and there… and the slave's life was likely forfeit no matter what she did.

Everything she'd done here amounted to nothing. A few dead guards. Dozens and dozens of dead slaves. Perhaps, at the very least, she could take one of their tormentors away. Tumas was not Kallas, but he was still a Cynis. She went to tighten her grip…

But what if in killing him, they took out their revenge not only on her, but on every slave in the city? Would they purge the entire thing over one Dragon-Blood, to ensure the Anathema's corruption wouldn't spread? Was there anything at all she could do to save even one more life-

"Ah, shaddup yah fuckhead!"

There was an almighty crack as a blurred figure dropped out of the sky and slammed into the black and blue dynast's head. The armored warrior dropped the slave in their hand and staggered, clutching at their skull and the sizable dent that had just been put in their helm. This gave their brightly-dressed assailant another chance to line up their club… no, an oar… and smash it into their head again, making the Dynast drop like a stone.

"If you're gonna fight an Anathema, fight her! Don't bother with hostages!" The figure bellowed as she rose, and Petal beheld a towering woman with dark skin and a wide, pearly grin. She was covered from neck to toe in either bright rags or intricate white and gold tattoos, and shouldered her weapon with the easy grace of a hardened warrior. Said weapon appeared to be an oar, albeit one with a huge broad paddle that took up half its length. Sparing a moment to pat the freed slave on the shoulder and spit on the fallen body of the Dragon-Blood, she finally nodded at Petal and Tumas.

"Gonna finish that one off, yeh? C'mon, we got places to be! Places that aren't here!"

Petal stared for a moment, before gritting her teeth and tightening her grip. Tumas seemed to slump against her, his aura of thorns dissipating as he went slack.

"Careful, the green ones are like snakes. Always got some trick up their sleeve." The woman with the oar said conversationally as she strode over to Petal, the man she'd just rescued trailing after her like a lost duckling. As if to punctuate the statement, the woman abruptly leveraged the oar off her shoulder and dealt a tremendous blow to Tumas' head, so close to Petal she instinctively jolted back and away from the strike, falling on her rump.

Tumas slumped further to the ground, his body going very definitely limp in a way it hadn't been before. "See what I mean? Fakin' it with some charm or another,'' the woman said. She offered Petal a hand. "Captain Delai Rokuso. Yer Anathema, I take it?"

Petal stared at the hand for a moment, before cautiously accepting it. "...Y… yes."

Delai leveraged Petal back to her feet easily, releasing her grip. "Could tell the moment I saw yah, on account of the glow and whatnot." She jabbed her own forehead with a thumb, and Petal realized for the first time since she'd started fighting that the golden glow had surrounded her again. "Not going anywhere on the island with that brand, not after what you did today. Want to join me instead? Wind finally started turning when you showed up, so I figure yer my lucky charm. And yeh look like you could pull an oar damn fine with arms like that."

Is this real? Am I actually awake, and not dreaming after one of the Dynasts dealt me a fatal blow? "I… that's why I came here, yes. To leave the isle." She glanced past Delai at the freed slave. He was staring at the limp body of Cynis Tumas with an expression that suggested he was considering getting a few final blows in himself. "...You too, yes?"

The man looked up, shocked, and babbled something in a language Petal only barely recognized; it sounded like Rivertongue, something Kallas had used when he hosted the occasional obscenely wealthy merchant from the Scavenger Lands.

Delai responded to him in the same tongue, and the two foreigners shared a nod and a knowing grin that left Petal completely bewildered. The captain turned back to Petal and grabbed her by the wrist.

"Come on then! You've kicked the hornet's nest and no mistake. I've dodged the Earth Fleet before but we're gonna need to move it!" Delai started to drag her away, and it took Petal a moment to find her feet and start running in step with both the captain and the newly freed man.

"But… they must have dozens of ships! With Dragon-blooded! A-and cannons!" Petal babbled.

"Yeah! It'll be fun!" Delai glanced back with a daredevil grin. "Besides, they have those things here!" She gestured at the emplacements guarding the docks. Some of them were on fire. "Trust me: once we're out to sea, all your problems will be like spray on the wind!"

 

[Leliel]

That sound you just heard was the entire collective Cynis support apparatus tendering their resignation.

This is the kind of humiliation already that leads to every other House smelling blood...two Anathema, including one who was an officially allowed trader for years on the Isle, escaping?

The amount of giggling alone is liable to break the egos of any man.

 

[Twei]

Delai is living her best life and I am here for it. Also, shoutout to that guy. Who is he? WHO KNOWS. But he's clearly making the most of his situation.

 

[alexthealright]

I love the art.

 

[blueJane]

That sound you just heard was the entire collective Cynis support apparatus tendering their resignation.

This is the kind of humiliation already that leads to every other House smelling blood...two Anathema, including one who was an officially allowed trader for years on the Isle, escaping?

Click to shrink...

So there's nothing in the text to suggest Delai has been trading in Pangu for years, nor that her presence is anything like official.

My interpretation of Pangu is that it's an absolute hive of smuggling activity, and the Cynis deliberately encourage this and have their fingers in most of those enterprises. Their business is in luxury goods, including ones that are proscribed even in the Realm; it behooves them to foster illegal activity in their own territory, as long as they keep a relatively close eye on it.

The dock auditors are more than happy to accept a bribe so that they don't have to write the name of your vessel down in their nice official ledger. You might go down in their unofficial ledger, but if a magistrate or Wyld Hunt comes sniffing around there's not going to be any hard evidence showing a dereliction of duty on the part of Pangu's recordkeepers.

Of course that also doesn't mean that Cynis isn't going to suffer social and economic consequences from two Anathema showing up on their literal doorstep, setting a bunch of stuff on fire, and then hauling ass off the isle. It just means they're going to have to work extra hard to redress the balance there.

Delai is living her best life and I am here for it. Also, shoutout to that guy. Who is he? WHO KNOWS. But he's clearly making the most of his situation.

Click to shrink...

I have a pretty extensive notes page, including descriptions of the characters, and Delai's starts with the following.

1.) Captain Delai Rokuso Does What She Wants.

2.) If Captain Delai Rokuso Is Doing It, She's Probably Good At It.

I love the art.

Click to shrink...

Thank you!

 

[blueJane]

Chapter 8: Sail

Per my interviews with the other monks of the monastery, who I can now vouchsafe to be of sound mind and untainted by the compulsion of the Anathema's magic, I have determined a number of pertinent facts, which you will find within the attached coded message. Go with the Dragons, and may your hunt prove fruitful-

-

The Proven Worth Chapter House sends its regards as well as our latest information from the astrologers. I am told that while the signs are in some amount of chaos, the Anathema you are in pursuit of will be heading approximately east-southeast for the immediate future, and will likely make landfall at a port on the coast of the Scavenger Lands. We have contacted our counterparts in Lookshy and Calin on this matter-
-

I hope this letter finds you well, mother. My pursuit of the Anathema's confederates on the Isle is ongoing. I have picked up the trail of the hunter identified by the villagers you interrogated, and believe her to be navigating to the west across multiple internal borders in an attempt to elude pursuit. I assure you that by my next letter I will have detained-

-

With all due respect, mother, how can you still associate with that monster Kallas?! Crashing Wake and I arrived at his estate just this morning to conduct interviews about the 'Anathema's' time there, and where we haven't been obstructed we've found a multitude of reports that Kallas mistreats his slaves abysmally, and that the mistreatment occurs daily. The man is a sadist, and as blasphemous as this may sound a lot of these people would be better off if the Anathema had finished-

Ledaal Cumula pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed as she set down her younger daughter's letter. It had been a mistake to send the girl to Kallas' estate, but she was already stretched thin on time and resources and Cycla's elder sister Fracta had been given the more important task of tracking down any active agents of the Anathema still left on the isle. If Cycla wouldn't accept the occasional necessity of associating with someone as well-connected and wealthy as Kallas, she was going to be ill-prepared for her future in the Scarlet Dynasty.



For all her misgivings, Cumula knew she should make time to read it in full later. The reports from the monastery and Wyld Hunt chapter house were of more interest, and deserved to be shared with her fellow shikari. She stood from the desk in the small but richly appointed cabin, her weight shifting as the floor slightly pitched beneath her. She could sense distant storms in the air, even below deck. Best to have the meeting out in the fresh air while she could enjoy it, before the rain hit.

Cumula stepped out onto the deck of the Danaa'ds Claw. Every sail on all three masts was unfurled and catching the wind, cambered bamboo panels holding firm. She followed the polished wooden railing that lined the side of the ship as she walked along the gleaming metallic deck, the sheen of blue jadesteel reflecting the sun.

Peleps Tafara was carefully balanced on the bowsprit and gazing through a spyglass, scanning the horizon. She shifted instinctively as the Wood Fleet dragoncutter carved through the choppy waves, moving as one with the ship. Her head was heavily bandaged, obscuring her close-cut black hair and suntanned skin, but her sharp, handsome features had survived the blow intact. She'd discarded her black and blue armor for the moment, instead opting for a simple black tunic and trousers trimmed with blue silk. Her dark blue eyes sparkled with gratitude when she turned and caught sight of Cumula. "Don't suppose you can stir up a bit of extra wind for us, Ledaal? I've been shifting the tides by myself all morning, and we've been sailing for an entire day and night in the same direction they were the last time the Earth Fleet spotted them, but we've not seen fin nor scale of that dragonstruck outrigger. By my reckoning, the Anathema has access to some kind of thaumaturgy. Only way she could keep ahead of us."



Cumula joined Tafara up on the bowsprit, navigating around the ropes bound to it and balancing effortlessly on the spar of wood. "If the Anathema has a thaumaturge or, Dragons forbid, a sorcerer on her side, we'll account for that in our pursuit. I've been in contact with the Proven Worth chapter of the Wyld Hunt. We should have plenty of additional assistance and information within a few days." She took a deep breath and started to stir the air with her hands, the air around her glowing in strands of white and blue as it spun and started to fill the Dragoncutter's sails. As if stirred by the same movement, the sailors nearest the masts immediately started to reorient them to take advantage of the redirected wind, pulling on control lines and halyards and swinging the battens around.

"Many thanks, Ledaal. I'm still a bit knackered from that beating."

"Pah. Wouldn't need to be doing this if the Cynis had actually stopped the Anathema back in Pangu." Rakel had come up from belowdecks. Like Tafara, she'd discarded her heavier armor for the moment and was instead wearing a vest and pants of matching red silk, patterned with thread-of-gold to trace the shape of flames. Her blades still rested on either hip, and her brow was furrowed in a furious scowl. "I thought they knew how to handle their slaves! They only have a damn monopoly, but one Anathema shows up and they completely lose their heads?!"

"It is touching for you to show such concern for your fiance's family." Cumula said dryly as she gave the wind one final dramatic stirring gesture, before turning to face Rakel.

"I know you agree with me, Cumula. If you hadn't been able to rouse Captain Tafara it might have taken us days to get ahold of a ship," Rakel gestured emphatically at Tafara. "Where was her backup? Were the Cynis so lazy they only sent one of their scions to help her stop the Anathema from reaching the docks?"

Tafar's brow, which had been narrowing into an angry glare at Rakel, instead settled into a more neutral sternness. "I assure you, Cathak Rakel, if the anathema hadn't had a tiger warrior waiting in the wings we would have handled the first one with ease."

It was Rakel's turn to look angry. "A bold claim to make over the body of Cynis Tumas, Peleps. Every warrior has their limitations."

Tafara opened her mouth to retort, clearly incensed, only for Cumula to suddenly step between them, buffeting both of the other women with a strong breeze.

"Enough. Our duty as shikari is clear, and we must not compromise it with infighting. If there is fault to be had in the Anathema's escape, it lies, as Rakel intended to say, with the insufficient readiness of the Cynis in Pangu, not with one of the first Dynasts to confront and engage the Anathema in combat." She nodded respectfully at Tafara, who had looked ready to draw a blade, before turning and giving a warning glance to Rakel, who let out a heated breath before relaxing her stance.

"Yeah, that's what I meant. You're obviously a fine warrior, Tafara, but this Forsaken has already taken down two other Dynasts at this point. One of them only barely survived his first encounter with her." Her hands tightened. "...I still don't know what that idiot was thinking."

"Much has changed in the past few years," Cumula said darkly, and a pall fell over the conversation. No one needed to speak of the absence of the Scarlet Empress, and the effect it had caused on the prosperity of the Realm. For a time, there was silence, as each of the Dragon-Blooded kept their thoughts to themselves.

A quiet groan of misery broke the silence, and drew Cumula's attention to the additional guest she'd 'invited' on the voyage.

"Finally." She stepped over to a wooden cage that had been set up on deck, squatting to look at the pathetic figure within. The merchant… who had identified himself as 'Jin'... was looking much worse for wear. His already tattered robes had been torn further while he was being dragged onto the vessel at Cumula's instruction, and he still bore a plethora of bruises from Cumula's initial encounter with him.

Finding him had been a stroke of divine guidance from the Immaculate Dragons, Cumula believed. She and Rakel had arrived in Pangu while it was still in chaos. In the process of helping put down the revolt, Cumula had uncovered a group of slaves cowering in a cellar… as well as this one rogue merchant, who had immediately fallen prostrate before her, begging for her mercy and proclaiming that the revolt was specifically not his fault.

"So, 'Jin.' The Anathema has found a boat off the island. Where is she going? Think carefully; the state of your soul is at stake," Cumula said coldly.

Jingles whimpered and swallowed. Manacles clinked on his wrists and ankles as he shifted into a prostrate bow. "Great and merciful Lady, this pitiful guide was commissioned to put her on a vessel to the South, but I brought her to Pangu with the intention of handing her over to the authorities-"

"When the Anathema commissioned you to take her to the South, did she state where she intended to go?" Cumula cut him off.

"I… she… the Anathema was not the one who commissioned me, oh Great and Merciful-" Jingles desperately mumbled, forehead pressed against the deck of the ship.

"Where does the Anathema intend to go?" Cumula tried again, voice growing irritated.

"The… the South. I was simply told to get her on a ship to the South. I swear by the Dragons, oh Great and Merciful-"

Rakel shook her head. "I don't think you're going to get more out of him, Cumula. He's already half-mad with fear. Move 'im to the brig and give him a few hours to think on it, yeah?"

Cumula sighed. "Very well. Captain Tafara, by your leave?"

She stepped over to the railing as the merchant was pulled from his cage and hauled belowdecks. The other Dragon-Blooded joined her.

"So, I'm given to understand your Hearth was part of a previous Wyld Hunt?" Tafara asked politely. She nodded at Cumula while carefully avoiding Rakel's eyes.

"Yeah, we joined the Office of Harmony chapter to help stomp out an insurrection down in one of the Cynis satrapies to the South," Rakel nodded. "Fierce fighting, needed to bring in a legion to keep his dupes busy, but we got the bastard in the end."

"With fate and fortune on our side, we may see this Hunt ended before troops become necessary," Cumula added. "Our cousins in the Scavenger Lands aren't necessarily the most reliable, but they have no reason to allow an Anathema to run rampant across the East."

"Calin and Lookshy have been alerted, then?" Tafara asked.

"Indeed. I wanted to go through my most recent missives with the both of you, actually." Cumula produced the scroll in question from her sleeve. "We may finally have some more concrete information on the Anathema's abilities and training… beyond her obvious talent for causing chaos."

"Is there any news of Kallas? Will he be well enough to join us soon?" Rakel asked, unconsciously biting her lip.

"The physician says he'll be well enough to travel by Sorcery in a few days. A sorcerer will collect both of them once he's well and ferry them to us via Stormwind Rider," Cumula said with a gentle smile to Rakel. "Don't worry, he's recovered well from the worst of the wounds, and he should be able to regain full use of his hands while we're in transit. Now… let's move on to our Anathema: 'Sister Petal.'" Cumula unfurled the ciphered scroll and began reading from it.

"She appears to be ethnically of the Blessed Isle's northeast, and according to this report she spent the past two years as a monk-in-training at the Monastery Of Mindful Stones. According to our most recent sighting, she has abandoned the practice of shaving her head, and has blonde hair and yellow eyes that don't match her previous appearance. The martial skills she displayed are consistent with other newly-created Forsaken who had prior combat training. According to the interrogations of the monks, said combat training was primarily in Fire Dragon Style and Water Dragon Style."

Rakel's eyebrows rose. "They saw fit to train her in more than one style? really?"

Cumula rolled her eyes. "As if you needed another reason to fight her."

Rakel frowned. "There's nothing wrong with enjoying myself while carrying out a sacred duty."

"Can we put her down for 'Raising Armies On The Spot'?" Tafara asked. "I was there when the uprising kicked off. Like Rakel said, it was an absolute clusterfuck. One of her minions even managed to ambush me!" She frowned, clearly resisting the urge to scratch one of the bandages around her head.

"Indeed. Slaves might generally be ill-trained, but she was clearly comfortable taking charge of them and directing them to aid in her escape, never mind how many of them ended up killed in the process. If we're not able to stop her from reaching the Threshold, we need to do whatever we can to stop her from raising any further forces," Cumula noted with a nod.

"...I don't suppose Kallas mentioned what exactly she did for him as a slave?" Rakel asked, looking a little uneasy as she put the question forward.

"He only noted that she was obedient and dutiful before she was taken from his household by an Immaculate Monk… ah yes, here he is. An itinerant Air-aspect monk named 'Kasif', apparently." Cumula answered, thinking back to the beginning of her younger daughter's letter. She would need to make the time to read that sooner rather than later, if only to set her friend's mind at ease.

"Uh-huh. Obedient and dutiful." Rakel's tone was becoming heated. "He could have said she was a gardener, or cleaning staff, or a craftsman, but the only thing he saw fit to mention about her was that she was obedient and dutiful."

"Has this 'Kasif' been located yet? It sounds like they might know a thing or two about 'Sister Petal.'" Tafara asked, giving a pointed look at Rakel for going off-topic.

"He hasn't been located, but there is a record of his statement to the monastery's Abbot upon his delivery of Petal into their care." Cumula paused in her reading, and when she next spoke it was with a curiously detached air. "He apparently claimed he would be preventing a 'Blossoming of Sorrowful Violence' as justification for interceding in Petal's ownership."

Tafara cleared her throat awkwardly. "This owner was… is… your fiance, if I interpreted our Ledaal companion's words correctly?" She watched the heat rise in Rakel's face and took a step back.

"Rakel." Cumula took a step forward and gently touched her friend's shoulder. "I know how you must feel. I am not one to look kindly upon Kallas's excesses either. But he is still a Dragon-Blood of puissant lineage, and the health of the Realm is his primary concern. Do not let his personal foibles spoil a connection that benefits you both."

Rakel brushed away Cumula's hand. "I won't, it's not like I can gainsay the Matriarch. But I don't have to like it." She turned away from the other two and headed towards the doors leading below deck. "Rouse me when something important happens. I'm going to go brood."

Cumula watched her go and sighed as the wooden doors shut behind her.

"She's an idealist, huh?" Tafara observed, glancing at Cumula with some sympathy. "How'd you two join the same Hearth anyway?"

"It is one of her many noble traits. That nobility served her well during a Wyld Hunt a few years ago." Cumula said, staring out to sea as she reminisced. "We'd been a Hearth for years before that, though. A military adventure in the South brought us together, and it was Kallas who suggested we become a Hearth in the aftermath. I assure you, she will not let her emotions cloud her judgment on this Hunt. She'll simply give Kallas the roasting of his life once they're both returned home."

Tafara rolled her eyes and grinned at the thought. "I don't suppose she'll allow for an audience?"

"I consider that unlikely. Passionate as she may be, she knows how to keep up appearances." Cumula glanced upwards as a raindrop bounced off of her cheek. "The storm's arrived. I'll see myself out from under your feet."

"I treasure a sensible passenger. Try to hold onto your stomach." Tafara pushed away from the railing and rolled her shoulders. "It's going to be a rough one."

---

"I cannot believe that worked," said the black-haired woman in robes of purple. She sat across from her companion in green, carving a large and bloody steak into perfectly proportioned pieces on plates of pearly porcelain.

"Chela, my friend, you have surprisingly little faith in our Solar allies," the woman in green said with a grin as she gently swirled her glass of wine.

"Faith is a luxury I stopped purchasing a long time ago. I know full well how much they had to have the odds bent in their favor to succeed, even with their skills. And they're not fully out of danger yet. Still…" Chela took a sip of her own wine. "...I'll have to thank Cestmir the next time I see him. That destiny of Ascending Journeys was phenomenally woven. The Bronze could barely even slow her down."

"I suppose we should be grateful it only picked up one extra traveler, rather than a whole fleet. As for Cestmir, he apparently enjoys the opportunity to observe the Captain at work. Professional interest, he told me."

"So what comes next, May Blossom?" Chela set about eating her steak while looking at her companion expectantly.

"They're headed in the direction of the Scavenger Lands already, and I can't see any destiny that will stop them from getting to Nexus."

"Which puts her right on top of the Kitchen." Chela nodded. "The Cult will be prepared to receive her, I hope."

"They will. Hopefully she'll be in the right state of mind to be received, although I admit, some of that is out of our hands. This new Solar is going to be spending at least a few days in the Captain's care. We can't be certain what she'll tell her, or how."

"Or if they'll get into a fight and kill each other."

"Oh, I doubt that. The Captain is quite the charmer. No, if there's any trouble, it will be from the new girl herself."

"Any luck on discerning who her previous incarnation was?"

May Blossom shook her head. "I did my best, but you know how Lytek is. And I can't fully complain about him being so stringent about the privacy of an exaltation's lineage."

"Mm. It would just be a matter of degree, anyway. By the end of the First Age, they were almost all gone bad."

"A bit of a broad brushstroke, but one still made with care." May Blossom sighed. "Perhaps, when we make contact, she'll be able to tell us herself."

 

[NBBTCS]

Now why would they assume trouble between our Solars? Could be they just assume Petal still holds onto Dragon propaganda, but that this is a concern of theirs still sticks out to me.

 

[Leliel]

Now why would they assume trouble between our Solars? Could be they just assume Petal still holds onto Dragon propaganda, but that this is a concern of theirs still sticks out to me.

Click to shrink...

They're Sidereals, or at least affiliated with the Bureau of Destiny. Worrying is what they do, because better paranoid backups and minimized risks now than things exploding later.

 

[Scia]

If you are a secret agent for Heaven, anything starts to look like things that can go wrong in such a manner, after all that is also one of their own main tools.

 

[Jensaarai]

"He apparently claimed he would be preventing a 'Blossoming of Sorrowful Violence' as justification for interceding in Petal's ownership."

Click to shrink...

For all you can say about the Immaculate Order, they at least seem willing to stand up to some of the bullshit that the nobles do. Certainly better than the words and excuses from Ledaal and company.

Still wish the Immaculates had gone forward with this Blossoming and pushed Kallas' shit in a bit though.

 

[Pale Wolf]

Now why would they assume trouble between our Solars? Could be they just assume Petal still holds onto Dragon propaganda, but that this is a concern of theirs still sticks out to me.

Click to shrink...

Solars do have a tendency towards strong opinions.

Quite often those strong opinions don't quite mesh

That and Sidereals tend to try to worry and account for things ahead of time, before a problem actually happens. They're not fond of leaving things to themselves to have what result they will.

 

[blueJane]

Now why would they assume trouble between our Solars? Could be they just assume Petal still holds onto Dragon propaganda, but that this is a concern of theirs still sticks out to me.

Click to shrink...

Petal's upbringing (and literal Immaculate training, don't forget) are a big part of their worries, yes. Like, sometimes you get a Wind who's a former Immaculate who fairly straightforwardly shifts their faith to the Unconquered Sun, but Petal doesn't seem to have that mindset yet.

Worrying is what they do

Click to shrink...

Also this.

Still wish the Immaculates had gone forward with this Blossoming and pushed Kallas' shit in a bit though.

Click to shrink...

So here's a serious question for you.

Why would they?

The Immaculate Order exists first and foremost to maintain and expand the hegemony of the Dragon-Blooded as Princes of the Earth, secondarily to ensure the Anathema are treated as pariahs and dire threats; beating up Dynasts for their 'personal foibles' is much lower on the Order's to-do list, and primarily exists to make sure those DB's personal issues don't interfere with purposes One and Two.

This will be expanded on in future chapters, of course. Just food for thought right now~

 

[Pale Wolf]

So here's a serious question for you.

Why would they?

The Immaculate Order exists first and foremost to maintain and expand the hegemony of the Dragon-Blooded as Princes of the Earth, secondarily to ensure the Anathema are treated as pariahs and dire threats; beating up Dynasts for their 'personal foibles' is much lower on the Order's to-do list, and primarily exists to make sure those DB's personal issues don't interfere with purposes One and Two.

This will be expanded on in future chapters, of course. Just food for thought right now~

Click to shrink...

Well, the reason they would is because the members of that order believe in things. They do not know nor care about the Order's founding purposes, they believe in the lessons it teaches so as to create those effects. They believe there's a holy purpose the Dragon-Blooded are called on to perform and actually really do get pissy when those expectations are disappointed.

The reason they wouldn't is because the doctrines, structure, and methodology of the Order are still oriented towards those core goals and are controlled at least at a centralized position to keep them in-line with that.

But heresy and schisms aren't exactly the rarest thing, when a bunch of low-level clergy seem to care about their principles so much more than their central administrative structure. So it really depends on, well, who exactly it is and how confident they are that they are right and the administration is wrong and how critical it is to attend to.

 

[Jensaarai]

So here's a serious question for you.

Why would they?

The Immaculate Order exists first and foremost to maintain and expand the hegemony of the Dragon-Blooded as Princes of the Earth, secondarily to ensure the Anathema are treated as pariahs and dire threats; beating up Dynasts for their 'personal foibles' is much lower on the Order's to-do list, and primarily exists to make sure those DB's personal issues don't interfere with purposes One and Two.

This will be expanded on in future chapters, of course. Just food for thought right now~

Click to shrink...

Well, AIUI, though I don't have access to the actual books, the 'why' is because there's a Paragon of the Immaculate Order who calls for her followers to keep an eye out for situations where these "Blossoming of Sorrowful Violence" acts are necessary.

Yeah, it's not a main thing for the entire Order, but as we saw with the monk Kasif's report, I think it's also not exactly a blue-moon sort of occurrence for an Immaculate monastery to commit to an uprising or two when they think it's needed.

 

[blueJane]

You're both right, but I feel like they're still very conservative about when they use revolt. Still, I've been thinking of it as an institution more than a collection of individuals; most Immaculate monks would probably be pretty disgusted by Kallas.

 

[blueJane]

Finished some art of one of characters featured at the end of Ch. 8, Chela.

 

[blueJane]

Chapter 9: Dream

---

Memory and dream weave together…

There is only one light in the facility: the golden glow emanating from your brow. It is critical not to draw power from the dragon-lines. The rebels still stalk the Imperial Mountain; any mass fluctuation in essence this near the Pole of Earth will certainly be detectable.

Nonetheless, you are content to wait. You step into a hangar, the light on your brow illuminating the form of your personal warstrider, one of the most perfect engines of war in Creation. Lining the walls on either side of it are the glassteel vessels containing your equally perfect army. Thousands of warriors, each perfectly obedient and content to wait until the moment of your command to spring to life.

Here, in this fortress, you will wait out this Usurpation, and you will show them all… both the rebels and your peers… that you were right, all along.

"Hello, my love."

Any other who spoke at this moment would have instantly met their end. But this voice… its familiarity overrides even your most basic reflexes. A hand that would normally lash out with a lethally brutal blow instead reaches, gently, and is met by another.

You turn, and look into your mate's blue eyes. Bathed in the golden light from your brow, every wicked and gentle curve stands out in the darkness. Her lips form the latter kind, both welcoming and tempting.

Your beloved. Your rival. The one person who truly understands your soul.

"Sickle Claw. For a moment, I feared that they had killed you," you say. You are irked by the weakness in your voice. That she can still expose your vulnerabilities like this both annoys and thrills you.

"I will be with you until the end. This, I promise," she says, caressing your arm, and you feel your heartbeat slow, relaxation taking hold of you. Let the world outside spin into madness; in your fortress, everything is where it should be.

"It's been some time since I've been here, but I remembered the way. The warstrider is new, though." She looks past you at the hangar, and you guide her to the railing to better observe it.

"It is the beginning of something revolutionary. Let me explain…

"What is the totality of a mortal soul? As the Primordials made it, it is a frail, temporary thing, a way to conveniently direct certain forms of essence, collecting a few motes for itself over time before inevitably losing its hold on its mortal shell and being cleansed in Lethe. The Incarnae, in their wisdom, and Autochthon, in his brilliance, saw that there could be more to a soul than that, though they sought to empower souls through the addition of divine power. Even they could not... or did not wish to consider... the soul's full potential.

This warstrider is the culmination of many efforts, and yet it is only the first step. In addition to the Automata systems that help refine and extend my control through the mechanism, I have incorporated soulsteel throughout the design... and not merely any soulsteel at that. Peerless mortal warriors, pilots, and engineers sacrificed themselves to see the realization of my vision, and in doing so have earned immortality and a place of everlasting honor. In time, we will not need to utilize arduous training to make purpose-forged soulsteel components; we will sculpt the souls directly, implanting the necessary skills and trimming away unnecessary attachments or feelings, to achieve ever more perfect results."

"Both terrible and beautiful, my love." Sickle Claw whispered. You feel a shiver up your spine as you feel her hand trace along it. "Just like you."

There is a pang in your chest as you take in her expression. She looks… sad. Her eyes are tinged with regret. "What troubles you, my love?" You say, reaching out to her face with your hand. For some reason, it feels weak.

She just keeps looking into your eyes. Hers are blue stirred with streaks of moonsilver. They are beautiful and haunting and filled with grief. A tear blooms in one eye and traces a delicate, halting line down her cheek.

Watching her cry, your chest hurts even more. It hurts…

It hurts.

You look down. A talon nearly the length of Sickle Claw's forearm is blossoming out of your chest, your heart impaled at its tip. It still pounds, fiercely and defiantly, trying to sustain a body it is no longer attached to.

You look back up into her eyes. Your arms have grown too weak to move, but still you try to wrap your hands around her throat, to return the betrayal. You can only muster the strength to choke out a final word through the blood filling your throat.

"WHY?!"

She holds your gaze as you die, your blood growing sluggish, slowly dripping away onto the floor.

Sickle Claw leans down and gently presses her lips to yours.

"Because I love you, Lotus."

---

Petal gasped as she awoke and reflexively pressed her hand to her chest.

Unmarred. Not even the hint of an injury. She patted her chest a few more times just to be sure, then glanced underneath her robes. Nothing. Even the older, more familiar scars had become paler and fainter since she'd become an Anathema. She pushed herself up from the roll of padding that was serving as her bed. It was still night, and she could hear Delai humming a shanty to herself as their ship slid across the starlit sea. On the padding on the opposite side of the cabin, the man she and Delai had rescued in Pangu snored quietly, an occasional whistle emerging from a gap in his front teeth. Petal closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing, calm herself down.

Unease settled in as panic departed. It wasn't just the vivid dream, though certainly she'd be thinking of those silver-blue eyes for hours yet. One anxiety led to another, splitting and doubling until there were dozens if not hundreds of concerns all jostling for attention in her mind. Would her new powers remove every sign of what Kallas had done to her over the years? Was Kallas pursuing her even now, across the vast Inner Sea? Was she destined to cause calamities of the same sort she'd wrought in Pangu, the rage in her heart leading only to the deaths of dozens, maybe hundreds of other slaves? Would it not be better for her to cast herself over the side of the-

The growing storm of her thoughts was scattered in an instant by the first ray of dawn.

Petal had never so much as ventured near the coast of the Blessed Isle before. Her entire life had taken place within a small slice of the center of Creation, sheltered by forests and hills, and always with the towering heights of the Imperial Mountain looming in the distance. Now, for the first time, she beheld the rising of the sun on an unmarred horizon.

At first, there was but a pale hint of ruby light, but as Petal watched, it grew to touch the clouds at the very edge. The kiss of dawn painted them in a glorious array of pinks, reds, and oranges, glowing bright against the dark blue of the sky. Petal felt drawn to breathe in deeply as the sun, burning red, rose over the edge of the horizon. Its ruby tint shifted to a rosier orange at the edges before finally taking on an incandescent golden sheen. The sun's rays reached across the azure sky, marking scattered clouds with its warm touch, and as it glanced off her skin, Petal felt for just a moment that she had been gently caressed by a comforting and familiar presence.

She let out a breath that misted into golden vapor in front of her.

"Magnificent, isn't it?"

Petal felt so at peace that even Delai speaking up didn't cause her to spring from her seat.

"Yes."

"First time off the big island, right?" Delai settled onto the deck next to Petal and offered her an entire mango. "Here. Didn't feel like fishing so we're dipping into my stash."

Petal stared at the fruit for a moment before accepting it carefully. She'd seen a dizzying variety of victuals in her time as Kallas' plaything, though he only deigned to allow her a taste on rare and always humiliating occasions. It felt distinctly odd, seeing something she associated with pain in such a disarmed setting. The fruit was still mostly green, with a yellow-red blush near one end.

"Do you have a knife?" Petal asked. She remembered having to carefully peel fruits like this.

"Just bite into it." Delai said, putting the advice to action with a mango of her own. Juice dribbled down the corners of her mouth and down her neck. "Shgood fer' yeh," she mumbled through a full mouth.

Petal stared dubiously at the leathery skin, before sighing. She was hungry, and it wasn't likely Delai had rice and raw vegetables stowed away somewhere.

Her first bite into the fruit took a moment, before she drove through the bitter, leathery skin into the golden flesh beneath. She paused for a moment as the flavor hit her tongue. If she were not Anathema, she decided, the shock of that taste probably would have knocked her stone dead.

Flecks of juice flew from her mouth as she messily devoured the fruit, tearing the more fibrous flesh away from the stone at the center, chewing through every hunk of skin and glistening golden fruit until there was nothing left.

"Hah! That's the way to go at it," Delai said with a wide grin, reaching over to pat Petal on the back.

"Don'ttouchme," Petal warned, flinching away and nearly flying over the side of the boat in her haste to avoid Delai's hand.

Delai gingerly withdrew her hand. "Ah… right then." She looked at Petal with growing concern, but was interrupted before she could put voice to it.

"[Is that breakfast? I'm so hungry I could eat an entire ox.]"

Petal glanced back at the masculine voice that had just spoken up. The Sijanese man who'd been roped into her escape had finally roused himself, a large yawn nearly splitting his head in two before he sat down with a heavy thud next to the captain.

"[Here you are, mate,]" Delai responded to the man in his own language, offering him a mango as well.

Petal cleared her throat. "I… don't suppose you could translate for me, Captain? I don't speak River…speak."

"Oh. Right." Delai leaned back a bit so Petal could look directly at the man. "Spring Petal, this is Anatolius of Sijan. [Anatolius, your savior is one Spring Petal.] Now, if I'm dragging you off to the Threshold, you're probably gonna need to learn some languages, yeah?" she told Petal, rising from her seat and grabbing a waterskin from the cabin, drinking from it and using a bit of the water to wash the mango juice from her hands.

"Ah, yes. It would be nice to be better able to speak with you and… Antolius?" Petal did her best to pronounce the name, stumbling over one of the extra vowels. The man seemed more amused than anything by the attempt, shielding his mouth as he quietly chuckled.

"Yeah, adjustin' that speech pattern is gonna be a little tough. You should thank the stars you landed on my ship," Delai said with a grin. "I'm going to get you to the Threshold for free, and throw in the ability to speak the vernacular at the same time. Should take me a week at most."

"A… week to teach a language? That's impossible," Petal said flatly.

"Not for me." Delai pointed to her forehead with her thumb, and there, as if suddenly reflecting the rising sun, was a mark: a hollow golden circle within which rested another circle. "I'm the Unconquered Sun's favorite sailor, and there's nothing I can't do if I get a mind to."

Petal stared blankly, her expression going from bemused to drained. "Oh. Of course you're Anathema. Like me. Dragons strike me, as if my soul couldn't get more damned…"

"Oh, you musta been raised by those Immaculates, right? Bemoanin' your fate about bein' Anathema and all that." It was Delai's turn to look bemused, settling back onto the deck next to Petal.

"I was an Immaculate monk!" Petal tried to wail, but only managed a defeated whimper. "I was safe with them, and now…"

"Hmm. Why don't we start at the beginnin' eh? You weave me your tale, I'll weave you mine, and maybe we'll find ourselves an understandin'. But first..." She held out her hand. "Gimme your hand for a minute."

Petal stared at it. "...Why?"

"Because as far as Anatolius is concerned the two of us have just been babblin' nonsense at each other for the past minute, so I want to give you two the ability to actually understand each other. I promise it doesn't hurt," Delai said, once more gesturing for Petal's hand. Petal glanced at Anatolius; the man had already taken Delai's other hand.

Haltingly, Petal allowed her hand to drift into Delai's grasp. She flinched when Delai's fingers closed over hers, but despite the coarse strength of the captain's hand it held hers with surpassing gentleness. Delai focused, the golden disc on her brow glowing with power, and Petal felt golden warmth flowing into her hand, up her arm, and into her throat.

"There! Now, try introducing yourselves to each other this time," Delai said, maintaining her grip. "And don't let go, or it stops working."

"Ah! So, uh, yes, I'm Anatolius." The man spoke, and Petal was shocked to realize she could understand him perfectly.

"I'm… Spring Petal. It's nice to meet you," Petal said, voice a little hesitant. She'd forced the man to endure a bloody battle and near-decapitation just the previous day, after all.

"I got that earlier, but it's a lovely name, and fitting for one of my saviors." Anatolius did his best to bow while maintaining his grip on Delai's hand.

"Savior? If it hadn't been for the captain, you would be dead. You might be the only survivor from that disaster…" Petal despaired, hanging her head in shame.

"Oh, I'm not saying it couldn't have gone better, yeah, but at least the ones who didn't make it died free," Anatolius said gently. "Trust me, we Sijanese know the difference between good deaths and bad."

Petal felt her throat choke up. It was a sentiment she could understand, it was one she often held herself on some of the worst nights of her durance with Kallas, but right now…

"I wanted you all to be able to live free. Not to be forced to choose between enslavement and death."

"Many go to their graves never getting what they want in life." Anatolius shook his head. "It is not my place to convince you your actions are just, but I can tell you this: the moment you broke my bonds, I had no regrets or reservations."

Petal felt heat rising to her cheeks. How could he say that, with so many dead behind him?

"Rrrrright, let's lighten the mood a bit, yes? Some actual tales, maybe?" Delai said, bluntly swiping aside the awkward silence. "Now, I've already introduced myself, Captain Delai Rokuso, the Unconquered Sun's Favorite Sailor, so on and so forth, lashed together my first ship from spit and tree gum before cursin' out an island god, now I'm here and everywhere." She rambled on, "But I want to know about you two! Where are you from?! What's it like there?" She had a wild and eager grin on her face as she looked from Petal to Anatolius.

When Petal failed to speak up after several seconds, Anatolius cleared his throat. "Well, like I said, I'm from Sijan. I was a mortician's apprentice, in training to assist with the proper internment and pacification of the dead. Sijan's a fine city, but there's only so much you can learn by staying in one place all your life, so I was instructed to travel a circuit of the River Province and learn the different grave-tending traditions of the villages and cities there. I had the misfortune to be staying in a small village that got hit by slavers. I've been trying to escape ever since… I'd hoped to do so before getting sent all the way to the Blessed Isle, but it's a bit hard to get away properly when you're not familiar with the land." He smiled wryly. "I'm afraid I'll be in your hands for a while yet, Captain, but as you saw yesterday I can shift an oar well enough."

"Not bad, not a bad tale, could use a bit more flavor, though." Delai nodded sagely, as if sampling a fine meal. "And what about you, Petal? How'd an Immaculate monk like you end up on the wrong side of the Blessed Hornet's Nest?"

Petal stared at her own lap for a minute. When she finally mustered the energy to speak, it was in a distant monotone, trying to keep her own story at arm's length.

"I never actually made it to the First Coil. I was a quick study when it came to martial arts, but matters of philosophical consideration took me longer to grasp. That must be how I fell so easily," she began. "...Before I was a monk, I was a slave. The plaything of a dynast. A monk named Kasif came for me one day, told me how the dynast was treating me wasn't right. He brought me to the monastery that took me in. Eventually, my former owner tracked me down. When he found me…"

The memory alone made Petal feel like her body was burning up. She thought of the look of shock and fear on his face, and it felt good, it felt good watching his beautiful perfect appearance shattered and broken and bloodied by her own hands-

"EASY THERE, Spring! You're crushing my good hand!" Delai cried out, shocking Petal out of her nightmarish reverie.

"Dragons, I'm sorry, Delai! I just! I started thinking about what I did and-" Petal spluttered, trying to let go of Delai's hand and finding the Captain's grip remained.

"It's fine, just, you sort of trailed off there, and then, you know, the crushing," Delai said breezily.

"Let me guess: you beat seven shades of hell out of them?" Anatolius was nodding eagerly, his ears perked as if anticipating that exact answer from Petal.

"...That's how I became Anathema, yes."

"Nice. If you're going to do wrong, at least do it right, I say." Delai said, grinning wickedly.

If you're going to sin, at least do it competently.

"...Maybe I'll tell you the rest later. My escape isn't the stuff of glory," Petal muttered.

"Alright, keep your secrets for now." Delai shrugged.

"...what about you, then? What does 'Unconquered Sun's Favorite Captain' even mean? The Unconquered Sun is an Incarnae, it's nothing short of blasphemous to claim favoritism on his part," Petal said pointedly, although she couldn't muster much malice behind it. She was a walking blasphemy herself, after all.

"Heh. Language is one thing, but I'm guessin' you don't know much about the world beyond your little island, yeah?" Delai's grin went from wicked to smug.

"I… know what the Immaculates taught me about Creation. And I did some studies in the monastery. But I've never… this is the farthest away I've ever been from home." She looked around her at the sea, so vast that she couldn't see the Blessed Isle anymore, or make heads or tails of where she was in the vastness of the world. She swallowed.

"Well, my girl, the Maidens are smiling on you today, because they've landed you in the boat of the most well-traveled woman on the face of Creation!" Delai boasted, standing up and posing with one foot up on a seat, jabbing her thumb at her chest. "You can keep your Immaculate scholars. All the places they've written about secondhand in their scrolls? I've actually been to them, to every place in between, spoken their languages, eaten their food, and made love to their women!"

Petal felt her cheeks flush red. "Wait, you've what?!"

"Worldliness comes in many forms, runaway monk!" Delai laughed. "Don't worry, I'll not tempt your delicate ears with those tales. So let's see here… I assume you know what you are, at least?" To demonstrate, Delai lifted Petal's hand and let her touch Delai's forehead, where the gleaming golden sigil was shining.

"Anathema." Petal spoke it with shame.

"Well sure, that's what the monks will tell you. But didn't you get told what you really were? Y'know, when you got the Exaltation?"

"...I cannot possibly begin to understand what you mean, Delai." Petal said, growing flustered. Exaltation was the blessing bestowed upon the dynasts, the righteous power of the Immaculate Dragons flowing through their blood. It couldn't possibly apply to what had happened to her.

"...Huh. Okay. From the beginning, then." Delai cleared her throat. "You're Chosen… Exalted… of the Unconquered Sun," she said triumphantly.

Petal looked at her, expression completely blank. "...Why, in the Dragons' name, would something like the Unconquered Sun concern himself with mortals like us?"

"Just bear with me here. So, the Unconquered Sun is second to none. You can argue some of the Incarnae are his equal in some ways, but he's still, you know… Unconquered. Sort of in the name. And we're his Chosen. Recipients of little shards of his divine power, to do with as we see fit. That's what I mean when I say Exalted!" She gave Petal a curious look. "You're sure he didn't tell you that himself? I've met a few other Solars and they all mentioned him sayin' something to 'em at the moment they got empowered."

Petal quietly stared at her hands. No matter how hard she tried to recall it, all she remembered feeling in that moment was a rush of fury, accompanied by an overwhelming sense of power. The rest was vividly imprinted on her mind, and if she closed her eyes she could so easily picture Kallas' bloodied face…

"Well, that smile tells me you remember something. Figures I get saddled with more work, though…" Delai grumbled, rubbing her chin. Petal jolted in her seat and tried not to squeeze Delai's hand too hard again.

"So. Exalted of the Unconquered Sun. We're Solars. We've got different roles he thinks we're suited to. I'm a natural traveler and diplomat, fer example, on account of my incredible charisma, good looks, and sailin' instincts, so I'm a member of the Eclipse Caste." She indicated the circles on her forehead. "Sun, Moon, and Stars, all in alignment, comin' together from across the sky." She smiled. "And if I'm not mistaken, your little sunburst there marks you as a Dawn. You're a born warrior and fighter… well, a chosen one, at any rate."

Petal stared at her hands. "...I was born a farmer, Delai. Before I was taken from my family, I never wanted to hurt anyone."

"Uh-huh. And when you first started fighting that Dynast bastard, you were still just a regular ol' mortal, right?"

"...Yes." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Well there you go. You picked a fight with something a damn sight deadlier than you and impressed the Big Guy enough he thought you'd be one of the best fighters in all of Creation. That's the Dawn: lookin' at the darkness of the night and tellin' it to damn well move." Delai grinned widely.

Petal was still staring at her hands. "...Can we talk about something other than what I am now, please?"

"Well, that pretty much covers the basics. I'll get a start on learning you some Riverspeak in a bit, but right now I need to check our heading and see if I can't whip up a current to get us across the Inner Sea faster. You two will have to get along for a bit without my magnanimous guidance, yeah?"

"Fine by me. Each new breath is a blessing, after all," Anatolius said with a smile, sprawling against the deck and sighing contentedly as Delai relinquished both of their hands.

Petal's found her mind wandering back to Yana. She wondered how the huntress and her daughter were doing by now. If they were incredibly lucky, if fate were on their side, they might evade capture. Yana had seemed determined to depart the dispossessed village at the same time Petal had, traveling in the opposite direction. It was little use wondering; it wasn't as if she'd ever see them again.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to tune out Delai's singing and Anatolius' humming. Petal wasn't sure she believed anything that the 'Captain' spouted, but none of it had felt quite like a lie. The thought of being singled out by an entity as powerful and distant as the Unconquered Sun disquieted her. More than that, she wondered why, exactly, this powerful deity had deigned to grant her such power without giving her instructions, or a message, or… anything, really.

All she had now were the clothes she wore and her hands. Everything else… her survival, her powers… had been delivered by the hands of strangers. First the Unconquered Sun, then Yana the runaway slave, and now this strange woman who spoke proudly of her heresy and claimed to have sailed across the length and breadth of the world.

She was struck by an overwhelming pang of nostalgia. Home had been a distant dream, even at the monastery. It was not as if she could safely return to her parent's village without drawing Kallas' attention there, but perhaps there had been a faint hope that, once she'd become a full monk of the First Coil, she could have visited. The life of the itinerant monk was one she'd found attractive, and it was just barely possible she could have visited, seen her mother and father again, looked in on her younger siblings. She could have shown them she had survived. More than survived… found another home, amongst holy women and men.

She felt the sting of salt at the corner of her eyes as tears gathered there.

She had already made her choice. Before she'd joined Delai on the open sea. Before the Abbot had told her to run.

She had made her choice when she'd thrown that first punch.

She would not submit.

She would live.

----

End Part One

Thank you all for continuing to follow Chainbreaker! There's going to be a break of a few weeks while I prepare part two so it can all be posted on schedule. Watch this space; I'll continue to post art and answer questions during the break! (No art this week because I've been SUPER BUSY.)

<3 Love <3 ,

blueJane~

 

[Leliel]

Boy, it has to be vexing to try and enslave a Sijainese trainee mortician.

It's kind of hard to make a threat of death stick to someone who is cuturally pretty chill with greeting rising up in the Underworld, sans chains, with a hearty "I WIN! HAHAHAHAHA!"

They probably need to be free enough to not incorporate "is a slave" into their undead forms...but that also means escape plots are a lot simpler, as their plans don't need to end in "still alive".

 

[blueJane]

Boy, it has to be vexing to try and enslave a Sijainese trainee mortician.

Click to shrink...

I mean if anyone can figure that out, it's the Cynis... and if they don't break them, they can just shrug and kill them (or sell them on.) I think part of the reason he'd hoped to escape before reaching the Blessed Isle is because of that... and if he did get killed there and his ghost showed up on the Blessed Isle, it would probably get curbstomped pretty quick by Immaculate Monks.