Hey all! I am shocked by the outpouring of kindness that my first chapter post received, and have been inspired to post what I have written over the last few days!
I am sadly a little behind on my word count, but am still feeling very inspired, and am eager to keep writing! This doesn't really begin or end with NaNoWriMo anyway, so I am not going to fret too much further.
Again, these names are placeholders, usually just based on a name I like, or a literal description of the object/place. There has only been minor editing done, so the pace is probably all off, but it feels so good to get it out of my head. I'm already itching to start editing, but will press on instead!
Sorry for all of the PoVs, I intend to probably trim them down in the future. Within the next couple of chapters, all the action will largely be situated in two PoVs anyway as the storylines converge!
Anyway, here are chapters 2-4, at ~3,940 words!
I have also thrown in some AI reference art I threw together really quick just to have some images in my head. Don't mind the distorted body parts 😅
_
**Chapter 2: **
There were fewer players here tonight than usual, and the ones in attendance seemed to be on edge, their eyes returning constantly to the canvas flap that acted as a door to the tent. She’d seen the look before on her brother’s face when he knew his mischief had crossed the line and all he could do was wait for their mother to return.
Despite their wary demeanor, however, they were gambling recklessly, each of them stretching their luck further than usual and risking money she suspected they couldn’t afford to lose. Wherever they were marching must be bad indeed, luckily she wouldn’t have to be a part of it.
The commanding officers allowed her to follow the army as it made its way around the continent. Gambling wasn't officially sanctioned, of course, but her presence was good for the soldier's morale. Most of their wages were kept in the treasury until they returned home anyway, so usually, the most that the men should be able to lose was their weekly stipend and any of the few things they’d brought with them from home. Tonight however it seemed they'd brought what savings they had.
She overturned the top card of the deck to reveal a green circle positioned within a large blue one.
As soon as the face was revealed one of the men groaned, revealing the strength of his hand. The soldiers were eager to play, though no one claimed they were any good at it. As the dealer, that was to her advantage anyway.
One by one the men went around the circle and added coins to her hat in the middle of their little ring. Their hands were cleaner than she’d expected soldier’s hands to be. Most of the fighting men she had grown up around in the city were accustomed to getting down and dirty to accomplish their goals. That had always sounded like too much work to her. She always kept her hands clean, and in more ways than one. After all, it was not like she had any more say in which card came next than the men did, it wasn’t her fault if the men lost their coin.
Once everyone had bet, including the man who groaned, she flipped the next card. A red star inside a yellow circle.
Excitedly, a man produced a card from his hand and slammed it against the mossy ground. She checked the drawing on it and saw he’s played correctly, it showed a green star within a purple circle.
“So you do know how to play Gleb, and here I thought you just liked giving me your coins”, she said, as she dumped the large pot in front of the man.
“I get lucky sometimes when you let me”, the soldier said, then dropped nearly half of the coins back into the hat before the next cards were even dealt.
“Oh I can’t control luck”, she responded as she shuffled the deck and began to deal a new round of hands. “Why do you think I am here playing this game with the likes of you?”
The men shrugged, they didn’t really know her. To them, she really did control their luck, and one could argue that in a way they were right. Of course, she would disagree, but she wouldn’t always have taken that stance.
“Okay, anyone have a winner right from seed?” she asked.
One man opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get his words out the tent flap opened and a man in a crisp black cloak stepped in. Its collar and cuffs were lined with a highlight of maroon blood-web that was fresh enough from the vine that it still softly glowed.
The soldiers whipped their heads to face the intruder, though she knew it was who they’d been expecting all along. A few made to stand up but stopped frozen when the man began to speak.
“Your orders were very clear. There were to be none in the camp besides verified personnel after yesterday.”
His eyes took in each of the soldiers in turn but avoided her completely.
She wanted to tell him that she was not under his command, and could not be ordered around.
“The lot of out will be written up. But you, you push your luck remaining here Zeana, I could have you arrested, or worse.”
Of course, he was right, and she hated it, even if he didn’t know why his words were true. She’d left her fate in his hands, and that wasn’t good enough. So, she made a quick decision and silently drew a card. Primary colors run, and secondary colors talk your way out of it…
A red square containing a blue diamond. The men frantically checked their hands between glances at the newcomer, who seemed stunned by the realization that no one was answering him. She had already seen all she needed.
She flipped two more cards in rapid succession before anyone had placed their next bets, and then threw the rest of the deck into the air. One man threw his cards down and roared with disgust and another lunged for her hat and the coins it contained.
However, she was quicker and snatched the hat up amidst the chaos while the cloud of cards still hung in the air. She launched into a backward tumble and slipped her deft body under the side of the tent. She was no acrobat, but the soldiers also hadn’t been expecting her to run. Sometimes when one was a soldier for long enough, they forget that not everyone had been trained to fight even when the odds were against him.
She tore into the night at a sprint and was already to the treeline when she looked back to see the captain emerging from the tent, cloak radiating a maroon glow.
He would have killed her if she’d given him the excuse, she was sure. He had been clear, she shouldn’t have been there once they’d begun approaching the coast. But she didn’t think he would waste any resources giving chase now that she’d left.
All non-essential personnel had been sent back east by now, and it was clear that those remaining were needed for something important. He was right, she had been pushing her luck by remaining as long as she did, and not in a way she liked to admit to herself.
When the man turned and reentered the tent, presumably to take down the names of the men who had come out to gamble, she relaxed and pulled a coin from her hat.
She placed it along the ridge of her thumb and then sent it somersaulting in the air, its smooth stone surfaces wavering in the moonlight. She caught it in one hand and upturned it in her other palm. It showed a carefully etched drawing of the city.
She turned the coin in her hands and looked at the other side, which depicted a mind flower.
To the city it was. With one last look at the camp, she turned into the night and headed east through the forest towards the city. Oh, how she hated the city.
^Zeana
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Chapter 3
His mother had always chided him for pushing the boundaries and always accused him of never stopping until something or someone stopped him. Well, she would say the same thing if she could see the predicament he had found himself in now.
Their small guerilla force hadn’t brought a medical tent, otherwise, he would likely be in it. Instead, he was in his own small tent, waiting silently in the dark for news of his comrades.
He couldn’t hear their guide, but he knew that she prowled the sparse forest around him, collecting plants that she insisted would heal his arm heal more quickly. Admittedly, she had been incredibly useful already, and he was likely just agitated that he lay in safety while his friends were raiding their target.
It had been a long journey to get to this point. They’d avoided civilization at any cost, their target too important to risk exposing their intentions or even presence to anyone, lest they be a part of Grandlia’s vast network of spies and sympathizers.
Zax slammed his right fist against the hard ground of the steppe with enough force to jostle his broken left arm, sending a jolt of pain through his bone.
It was just so frustrating.
The information that had brought them here was so vague, he hadn’t even agreed with the order to come in the first place. Sure, the information had seemed so desperately convincing, but he also wouldn’t tell them what the ship contained, even under threat of death.
They had to sink the ship, he’d said, they had to. The fate of the continent depended on it.
Of course, it wouldn’t be the first ship they’d sunk in trying to resist the Grandalian takeover. But never had they attempted to take a ship this big, and never this far from the safety of the swamps.
“Here, remove your splint and wrap this around your arm,” the guide said, causing him to jump.
He hadn’t heard her approach. It wasn’t the most impressive feet on this stony ground, with the wind howling through the bare limbs of the stone-skin trees, but he knew he wouldn’t have heard her even if she’d been walking through a pool of fallen leaves and twigs.
“Thank you”, he said, taking the bundle of roots and leaves.
He examined it closer and discovered that it could unroll. He did so, revealing a carefully woven patchwork of roots that had been skinned of their outer layer. Leaves, soft and slightly mashed, filled the inner face of the brace.
Slowly he removed the splint he had made and replaced it with the one Jeamy had given him. It was rigid enough to prevent him from moving, and it seemed he could already feel the oozing juice of the plants begin to heal his arm.
“You really didn’t need to climb that tree. I gave you the exact location of the ship”, she commented flatly.
^Jeamy
He knew that she meant it as a friendly jab, almost sarcasm. He’d spent enough time with those who were raised in the swamps to recognize their heavily veiled disproving humor. Or, at least he liked to think that their condescending tone was partially joking.
“You’re right, of course”, he said, “though, if I hadn’t done it you know Brall would’ve. You know how we are”.
Silence, he couldn’t even hear her breathing. The distraction from the pain of his arm had been welcome, even if the conversation had been a bit one-sided. Maybe if he pretended to argue she’d return…
“Although, who is to say you were right? Maybe that’s why they’re taking so long to return”
“Quiet”, she snapped.
Oh? He hadn’t expected that. Could he push her further?
“After all, that branch snapped before…”
“I said quiet! Can you hear that?” she interrupted.
He was silent this time, sometimes he knew when to stop, despite what his mother said.
Now that he listened for it, he could hear faint cries in the distance. That was bad, they shouldn’t have experienced any resistance, they would surely lose, and that was why they were attacking at night with a tactical party.
“We need to get down there”, he said, bolting from the tent.
The cool air of the southern peninsula bit at his skin, he’d stood without putting on a shirt… or boots, he thought, as he felt the rough vegetation underfoot.
“Return to your tent, I will see what has happened”, she said and started off into the darkness before he could stop her.
As quickly as she had disappeared into the darkness he was already donning his shirt, boots and leather armor. Once ready, he tore off in the direction that she went, hoping that she hadn’t changed course at any point in her mad sprint.
The shouting grew louder, and he heard wooden spears smack against each other and the stone scales of armor somewhere in the distance.
He pushed himself to run faster, recklessly swinging his broken arm to preserve momentum.
And then, the screaming just stopped.
^Zax
_
Chapter 4
As Commander of the Grandallion fleet, Commander Crante had been the man in charge of many important operations. It had been him at the royal helm when they had sailed north against the Deserin, and his order that had officially begun the quelling of the swamp rebellion.
Why then, was he now taking orders from this strange man? Minister Eagmont, a trusted advisor, and friend, of the King, was how he had been introduced. He was sure he had never seen the man before though in any of the officer's meetings or social affairs, and Crante made it his business to know everyone. Hell, he knew everyone, their parents, and their grandparents.
Then the large wooden chests that had been fastened into the very floor of the lower decks… He still had no idea what they contained. Never before had he allowed any person or item passage on his ships that he didn’t know the purpose or origins of. He ran a very tight ship.
Yet, after all his years of service, after all of the things he had done in the name of Grandallion, he shouldn’t have to put up with this. He had told the King so himself, and even given the ultimatum that it was either they told him what was in the crates, or he left the service.
They’d called his bluff. He’s given too much of his life not to be the man for the job, he had nothing else. Never time for a family, never time for hobbies, it had been the fleet before all else.
“Some things are too important for you to know, that has always been your place”, the King had said. And Crante supposed he was right.
Now that they were out at sea, in his own territory, surrounded by loyal men, on the war machine of a ship that his feedback had helped the engineers design… he wasn’t so sure he wanted to listen to this man. Was that really the King he had served all these years, what had changed in the man?
He didn’t like feeling like a prisoner, especially on his own ship. What could he do though? Toss the man overboard? And then what? It's not like he wanted to turn away from Grandalia, he just felt he deserved better than this.
There were too many odd things going on. Eagmont’s henchmen for example had brought mind flowers onboard.
It wasn’t that he had anything against the plants really, but after the rebellions in the marshes, the old sailor's superstition had started to seem real enough to be wary of their presence onboard.
That and the land retinue that had joined them. Soldiers he didn’t recognize, a whole battalion of them, mirroring the ship’s movements on land. He supposed that he shouldn’t begroan the additional security, but something just didn’t add up. They were not dressed for the weather, almost as if they had suddenly marched down from the North.
This was the largest ship in the whole fleet, which was the biggest ship in this part of the continent. If they were to meet a challenge, it would be from the Deserin, and if that were the case, a thousand soldiers and one large ship wouldn’t be nearly enough to hold against that threat.
If they were trying to deliver whatever was below deck safely, surely a stealth mission would make more sense. Why not load them on a routine patrol boat? Why not load them on a cargo ship headed to the Southern Point?
There was something else going on here for sure.
^Crante
It’d been two days since they’d left the port, one of the last stops before the stretch to the tip. They’d stayed there for a peculiar amount of time, having arrived in the night and waited around for most of the rest of the day before leaving. Just one more thing that didn’t make sense…
As soon as they’d received the signal, a process he had been left out of entirely, they’d departed the port and continued on their journey. It was as soon as they cleared the last outposts of that town that the land retinue joined up with them.
Night had approached once again and he stood on the deck of the ship, looking south off of its front in the direction they were headed. One of Eagmont’s men was standing a few paces to his right. The other was presumably with Eagmont. They didn’t hide the fact that they were watching his every move.
A lantern from shore signaled that the men had found the spot they would set up camp for the night. Normally Crante would have complained about the need to stop overnight. Ships had no such necessary restriction, as they could carry enough crew to sail through the day and night and then do it all again. However, he wasn’t sure he liked where this was headed and wasn’t eager to find out. He needed time to figure it out first, to think of a way to reason with Eagmont…
He looked at Eagmont’s masked henchman, who nodded. Crante gave the order, and the crew that was on deck began to lower the sails and put down anchor. The ships slowed to a halt and Crante could see cook fires spring up in the rocky crags of the shore. Another disadvantage of land, there was no way a retinue of even that size could cover its presence when they left in the morning, a ship left only the briefest of wakes.
Yet, maybe it was better that there was physical evidence of this passage… he didn’t like the secretive nature of this, there were too many things wrong.
Soon Eagmont and the other masked man joined him on the deck. Well, joined them, but he hadn’t considered himself with the goon.
The newly arrived henchman whispered something in the other’s ear as Eagmont walked over to stand directly next to Crante.
“It’s such a clear night, a wonderful night for a show, no?” Said the shady man.
Crante didn’t like the sound of that, though the man rarely said anything he liked. Always so mysterious, so demeaning. In his younger days, he’d struck men for such disrespect. A wonderful night for a show indeed…
“The beauty of the sea and rocking of the deck are all the show that I need, thank you,” he said, only glancing at the man from the corner of his eye.
“I had always heard you were different than most of the Grandallion high society, with the penchant for theater and frivolity. I guess my sources were correct”.
“Ah, I see that they were. What else did your sources say about me?”
“That you were ruthless when need be, that you would do anything in the name of Grandalia, or perhaps in the name of your own career”.
“Well, here I am, so perhaps so”, Crante said, unfolding his arms and placing them on the railing in front of him. No, he wouldn’t strike the man, he was right, he could still be back in Grandalia. A captain no longer, and without his honor, but at least he’d be free.
“Tell me, Captain, why do you despise me so? Is it really so bad not to know what is in those chests? You did hear the King himself tell you that by undergoing this trip, you were doing a greater service to his royal seat than even any of your successes in the past??
He had heard, but he had also never seen the King look at him like that, never heard his old friend growl in that harsh tone of voice. What could be weighing on his mind?
“It is my duty to the crown to serve in this way, but my duty to my crew to ensure their safety to the best of my ability. Never before have I been forced to choose between the two”.
“Your crew will be safe my friend. And if my man here is right, you are about to get the first demonstration of that now”.
^Eagmont
He turned to focus his view on where the men were setting up camp. Surely if they were in any danger, this man would warn him so they could send aid, or at least warning?
As soon as he had the thought he saw one of the cookfires suddenly billow large enough to consume some of the sparse trees.
Then the shouting began, and he saw two more of the fires similarly explode. He’d seen this tactic before, these were guerillas, and they were throwing wisp plant powder on the fires, probably in small bags made of thinly woven material.
What were they doing this far south? They must have caught wind of this mission, was the information leaked somehow? Or had they just been following the retinue? He knew that had been a bad idea.
He moved to give orders, this ship was equipped with plenty of tricks that could be used to help the men on land, let alone the few hundred trained and veteran soldiers that sat below deck, ready to face anything for the King.
But he was silenced, not with a look or a harsh word, but by a hand that had reached from around his back to cover his mouth. He moved to struggle and found a blade dug into the side of his neck.
“All will be quite alright, and you will get your answers soon, just watch”.
The man nodded to one of his men, who disappeared down to the lowers decks. A splash sounded a few minutes later and they moved to see a boat with only a few men rowing a strange-looking object to shore.
It gleamed in the light of the blaze that was beginning to spread on shore, almost like the waves did when the light was right. What was that thing? It couldn’t be metal, he’d never seen so much of the cold hard material in one place before.
The boat made it to shore safely and they breached without issue, the guerilla soldiers seemed outnumbered, as if they hadn’t expected the presence of this many soldiers. Unless they had reinforcements, this fight would be over sooner than later.
The men on the boat hoisted the strange object ashore and then carried it up the rocks and to a level place. They were close to the fighting now, and surely someone would notice them soon.
They set the strange object on a large piece of stone and then two men grabbed a spot near the top and heaved.
It opened like an egg, and as soon as it did, the two men dropped to the ground in spasms. The men around them did the same, and within a second or two so had every man on the shore.
Everything was eerily quiet, no more weapons, no more shouting. All that could be heard was the lapping of the waves and the crackling of the fire.
“What, what happened? You have killed all of those men, Grandallion’s men!” he pleaded, trying to understand.
The blade cut into the side of his neck, just enough to draw blood.
“They died honorably, you’ll understand.”
He looked at his remaining man and then back to him, “we’re going ashore, would you like to come?”
^Henchmen
And a bonus if you made it this far:
Weeks, from last week!
