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Interlude III: Baptized in Salt-Part-II

"The East is a fascinating place with it's mystique and tales. One tale in particular is most captivating. The tale claims that the people of the East, the Huenxuan Kingdoms have known of another world for thousands of years. Legend has it that a lot of people just like us have come from another world to ours, while some from ours have gone to the other. Perhaps, this is what explains some of the myriad facets of the Huenxuan culture, alien to the countries or people around it. Even the Huenxuan name bear no resemblance to any of their neighbouring cultures. Then again, this all could be an old wives' tale."

- Sailerr Convargo, Traveller and Bard, "Road to East: Of Taverns and Bamboo Flutes"

Sullin stared at the red gate in front of him. Even from a distance, the instalment was huge. Or maybe, it seemed huge to Sullin because he was to die under it.

“In spite of your brave and dutiful disposition, it is a fact that you took part in willful insubordination against your direct superior at sea. Then, you cooperated with the enemy that killed the rest of your fellow shipmates”, Morath’s voice had been a hazy drone as he had rattled off the list of Sullin’s transgressions.

Sullin’s couldn’t take his eyes off the structure made of crimson wood. He had only heard tales and rumours about the ‘Sea God’s Wrath’, the famous red gate at the southern most point of Ebraven Empire’s landmass. Turns out, the huge gate was also made into an execution instrument at times.

A prison guard supported Sullin’s weight as he dragged himself on his broken right leg. Rows of Imperial Navy officers stood on solemn ceremony on both sides of the narrow walkway to the Sea God’s Wrath. In all honestly, more than the impending execution, the stony, expressionless faces of the officers scared Sullin more.

The wind picked up, making Sullin’s pure white robe flutter wildly. He had just come to know that it was the preferred garment for Naval executions. A pure white robe to show off the crimson blood under a crimson gate. Sullin wondered who came up with the colour combination. If possible, he would have liked to murder that person before he was executed.

Sullin’s chains jangled against the lava stone walkway. The heavy iron ball attached to his manacles dragged on the stone with dull sounds. Each time he took a step, Sullin had to grunt and pull the weight forward. The oppressive midday heat had already made his clothes soak through.

A sudden screech made Sullin breakaway his eye contact from the crimson gate looming before him. Hordes of sea-birds had flocked all around the red, rectangular gate that floated on the blue sea. Hundreds of gray-white birds shuffled their feathers and cooed while sitting on the red gate as they watched Sullin with their black beady eyes.

In that moment, a wild idea rose within Sullin’s mind. The birds, long regarded as messengers and servants of the sea god Bisakh seemed to be waiting for him. At least, that’s what Sullin thought. He shook his head to dispel the idea that such a powerful being would await his death.

Sullin tore his eyes off the birds and concentrated on the red gate. He had always wanted to visit the shrine to Bisakh. He shivered as he couldn’t stop himself from staring at his impending death. He even entertained the idea that it was this very fact that prompted him to look at it. The thick wooden posts rose from a sturdy wooden platform set atop a base of black lavastone. Sullin knew that in a few minutes, the high tide would roll in, submerging the platform. Then, the gate would look like it had risen from the sea itself, a floating testament to the will of the god.

A hiss rose from Sullin’s lips as he flinched. The black stone walkway had warmed all day long in the sun, its surface now hot like a pan. Sullin endured the pain of his skin being scalded each time he took a step on the streaming rocks. Prisoners en route to an execution were not allowed to wear shoes for it would disrespect the gods.

Sullin’s hands gripped the guard tighter. Suddenly, his mind caught up to him. All along, he had prayed all this was a dream. But he couldn’t believe any longer as the gate loomed bigger in front of him with every step he took.

His breathing grew rough as he realised in his heart of hearts the immutable fact for the first time. He was going to die. Death; a strange word. The world, the sea, the ships, the birds, the people; all of them would go on like they had been for hundreds of years. The only difference would be that he himself wouldn’t be there. Not that it mattered to the rest of the world.

He thought of the little brother and his parents he had left back home. His mother with her kind, yet strained smile as she struggled to keep their degraded finances alive. His old father who had given himself up to alcohol and gambling, unable to part himself from the glory of the nobles they once were. Sullin’s breath caught as he thought of his brother. The little runt of a kid who would stare at him with watery eyes as their father raged and mourned around the house in his alcoholic stupor. Sullin wished he could see his brother for one last time. He always felt he had abandoned his family by joining the Naval academy. Sullin had convinced himself that it was all to reclaim the lost glory of their family, but he himself knew the truth. He had run away. From his father, his mother, and his little brother.

How he wished he could see them for one last time. How he wished he had gone back to his home at least once in the last few years.

And now, death will take all that away. All that his family would get is a silver badge and a decorated weapon as per the rules of the navy.

Sullin would cease to exist.

He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die.

Sullin’s chest tightened as he approached the crimson gate. His vision narrowed to just the twin poles of the gate and the three wing-like horizontal boards at the top. To him, the gate seemed to break apart into little pieces, the red poles, the ropes and fetishes decorating its sides, the inscription covering every inch of its surface.

As his legs gave way beneath him, Sullin let a bestial cry from his throat. He sat clutching his chest, staring straight at the gate before him.

I don’t want to die, he told himself over and over again, I don’t want to die.

The guard supporting him stumbled at the sudden movement and fell headfirst into the stone walkway. Some officer sighed at the sudden spectacle and came forward. Sullin couldn’t see him as he stared at the gate that would take his life. He rocked back and forth muttering incomprehensibly under his breath.

The officer grabbed Sullin by his collar and shoved him to his feet. Sullin stared at the officer blankly, his eyes dilated. The officer barked something at him. The words just washed over him without comprehension. He kept staring at the officer. A momentary laugh escaped Sullin’s lips as he saw how the officer’s lips moved without making a sound. The laughs turned to choked sobs soon enough while he trembled in fits.

Sullin finally tore his gaze away from the gate and buried his face against the stone walkway. His fingers clutched the stones, refusing to let go. His cry was like some pathetic beast as he was wrenched away by the guards.

The officer dragged Sullin away by his feet. Sullin tried to break away but the officer held him firm with his hands. His face and hands bled as he was dragged over the rocks. Nis nails cracked and ran with blood as he tried to clutch at the rocks.

I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die. He told himself over and over. Occasionally his voice would leak through, lending a wavering, sobbing voice to his thoughts.

He was thrown violently on the wooden platform at the gate’s base. He was even more startled to see the crimson gate up close. The posts supporting the Sea God’s Wrath shrine were wider than a man’s hips and at least five men tall.

Sullin was surprised to find water pooling at his feet. The sea had started to encroach on the platform. The stone walkway was already under a very shallow layer of water. The metal and rope fetishes hung on the humongous gate jingled as the sea-wind blew through it.

Two men dragged Sullin directly under the shadowed recesses of the gate. Three huge wooden boards decorated with sloped roofs made the shadows pool at the base of the shrine, its temperature a few shades cooler than it’s sun-beaten surroundings.

Sullin’s cries stopped when he heard the sounds of chains. With a ratchet the lowest and the smallest wooden board came down along the posts. A few men operated the contraption to lower the board along with its serrated roof. The red roof creaked and swayed as it came down stopping only a few feet above Sullin. More men shoved Sullin towards a temporary wooden board affixed at the base of the shrine where it ran across one post to the other. As they lay down Sullin’s neck on the semi-circular depression, he realised what it was. A guillotine.

Strangely enough, Sullin’s heart calmed down as he saw the gleam of the monstrous blade hidden under the roofed board above him. He knew that in a moment, the metal hidden under the wooden skirt of the board would detach his head like a knife through butter.

Sullin’s head swam as a queer sense of detachment came over him. He regarded himself disconnected from what was happening to him and around him. His own impending death seemed like just one of the things he wanted to get over with quickly. He sighed as the other half of the semi-circle closed around his head, locking his head in. The hole was enough to let him swivel his head, but not slip through. A sharp sting of coppery smell from the wooden board reminded him of all the executions that had taken place here. Though the wooden board was clean, he was sure he could see dark bloodstains that had proven too difficult to scrub off. His mouth filled with a metallic taste as he imagined his headless corpse, watering the same board with his blood, just like the person before him. He wondered if the next one executed will also think the same of Sullin.

The smell of blood grew more intense. To dispel the coppery scent permeating the air, in his last moments, he decided to regard the intricate etchings and inscriptions on the gate. He knew many of those stories and praises to the sea god Bisakh carved into every inch of the shrine. His only regret was that he couldn’t see the full scriptures etched onto the three wooden boards at the top that ran across the two posts supporting the whole gate. He had always admired the story of a brave sailor told on one corner of the outstretched wings of the middle board.

Sullin was brought out of his fevered musings by a violent spray of salt water. By now, the sea had crept up to the waist of his kneeling form. He swivelled his head again to stare at the deep blue sea glittering in front of him. It was a custom of the Navy. When it came to executing their own men, they did it in full view of the sea as a last courtesy. But, for Sullin, it had grown to be a bother. The errant sea waves splashed surf and brine water into his eyes, making it sting. The stifling scent of the sea overpowered even the oppressive smell of blood.

Facing the wide sea, Sullin kneeled under the gate waiting to die. Behind him, the whole Southern Command of Imperial Navy looked on at his trembling form washed by brine and sea-winds. Splashes behind him told Sullin that a few men approached where he lay, but he had no way to check who it was since his head was affixed to look only in front.

“By the laws of the sea handed down to us by the glorious god of the seas”. Morath’s voice rumbled an octave lower than the roar of the seas, “Sullin Seth Foyal is to be executed under the watchful eyes of gods and men. May he find absolution for his sins—”

What absolution! Sullin cursed in his heart, I did nothing wrong!

“— May he return to the bosom of the sea he so loves. May his soul gain eternal peace as waters of the ocean. In full view of the eternal sea, let our fellow brother who had been laid astray join the faith once more”, Morath finished up.

Sullin grew tense as he waited for the command to come. In a moment, his head would detach from his body. His body trembled like a leaf as tears streaked down once again from his cheeks.

“Under the Southern Gate, let the Wrath of the Sea God judge our brother and bring his eternal soul once again to Bisakh’s embrace”, Morath delivered the final command for the execution.

The black masked executioner stepped up to the platform and ratcheted the chains for the guillotine blade to swing down. The wind stilled around Sullin. He could hear the blood rushing through his veins. All sounds stopped as he strained his each for the slick sound of the metal blade falling down.

Sullin closed his eyes.

Coert smacked his lips as he saw the prisoner tremble under the crimson gate. This was the third execution using the Sea God’s Wrath he saw in his four years of service in Ozine Navy HQ. He had expected this one to follow how the other two went. In fact, the officers had bet among themselves whether the prisoner would piss his pants or shit himself. Coert took a gamble and opted for both. His spirit had risen high when he had seen Sullin thrash and struggle on the stone walkway. Coert rattled in his mind the number of rum-kegs he could buy with the money. He had to restrain himself from grinning ear to ear as the prisoner was dragged towards the Sea God’s Wrath. The sea breeze carried with it the sweet cries of the sea birds. Coert breathed in the salty scent of the blessed sea. Nothing could go wrong today.

And then, everything went tits up. The prisoner settled down on the execution platform waiting patiently on the guillotine. He didn’t struggle even the slightest bit, only swivelling his head to stare at the crimson gates like a country bumpkin. Coert had never seen a man so in love with the instrument of his death. He stared at it like his newly-wed wife. Look at the sick fuck swivelling ‘is fuckin ‘ed, Coert raged in his mind, like switching on ‘is wife’s tits.

Coert’s hands shook in silent fury. Cry, you fuckin’ bastard! Shout!! You are dying, god damn you! His thoughts remained unspoken as he maintained his outward expression of icy indifference. Coert traced Sullin’s eyes on the Sea God’s Wrath shrine.

What’s there to look at? Coert gnashed his teeth as he saw the huge red gate. After four years, the gate had lost its novelty on him. The thick red wooden pillars, the metal and rope fetishes –he found it all tacky and tasteless. He particularly hated with a passion the triple straight arches that ran across the two doorposts. You like that so much that you forgot to grieve your own death? Coert seethed, barely containing the savage fury that churned in his mind. Ten Royal Rita! Dammit, a hundred Royal Rita is ridin’ on you.

His expression brightened when he saw the guards close the wooden neck-hole. Aye! Coert rejoiced for this was when the prisoners struggle their hardest, feeling their last chance collapse before them.

Coert was disappointed for the second time today. In spite of the furtive glances of his superiors, his mouth hung open when he saw the prisoner close his eyes and peacefully lay his head. What...what in the name of Bisakh is goin’ on? Coert’s mouth crinkled up at the corners in a pained smile as he watched his gold slip away.

A movement at the edge of his vision prompted Coert to swivel his head. The superior who had bet on the prisoner not reacting nodded at him. Coert nodded back in silent defeat. This bastard...how ‘ad he known the prisoner won’t—fucking ‘iece of shit, Coert convinced himself that the superior officer had a stupid smile plastered on his face. I jus’ know it. That’s bastard’s smilin’ behind that face o’ ‘is. He had considered not paying. But, with Trident Deuximme’s stringent insistence on maintaining order and discipline amongst his ranks, gambling and whoring were all but shut down. Not that it stopped from the sailors from doing those, but those who got caught were severely punished. A tussle with his superiors would just earn Coert a place in the gaols. A false accusation was certainly within the tools his superiors employed to their benefit. Not that gambling and whoring would be a false accusation against Coert though.

Coert cursed the sea, the wind, and the damnable birds. He had the feeling the whole world was conspiring against him. He cursed the world, the gods and raised concerns about the sexual misdemeanours of the mothers of his superiors’. His face had taken a bright red tinge when the Trident Deuximme ordered the guillotine blade to be swung down.

He watched in dull pain as the executioner donning a black mask pulled at the chains that held up the blade. In a moment, the hidden blade would rush down from the gate and take the prisoners head. An’ my fuckin’ hundred Royal Ritas with it.

Coert closed his eyes like the prisoner, unaware of the irony.

Sullin and Coert, both waited for the grating sound of the blade falling when the chains would be released.

A clear sound like a ringing bell interrupted the ceremony. Coert’s eyes flew open to see the huge guillotine blade stuck just above the prisoner, a few inches from cutting his head off. Murmurs and shouts arose in the ground as they all watched a huge curved sword stuck between the guillotine blade and the wooden bracket that held the prisoner’s neck in place.

Coert’s mouth hung open as he saw the spectacle of a sword larger than a man and thicker than a hand across vibrate under the guillotine blade. The high pitched ringing still wormed through the parade-ground, rising far above the roar of the seas and shouts of men.

The heads turned at the Sea God’s Wrath shrine immediately turned at the sound of loud clops resounding across the ground. Coert swivelled his head to see a pot-bellied man alight from a green-black serrad. His short stature made it a bit challenging for him to jump from the tall animal.

When he finally got down, he brushed his clothes and coaxed the long gray moustache that extended far down his lips like some thin beard. The man’s sun-burnt skin peeked out from under the deep blue blazer. Coert had never seen the design before. The buttons were all far to the right side, following a straight line from shoulders to the navel. The man stroked his raised collars and coughed loudly. A smaller curved sword just like the one that had stopped the guillotine blade hung at his waist. The man took out his hands from the long sleeves that hung loose and kept it on the handle of the sword by his waist and coughed louder.

“Trident Deuximme Morath Je Flamrauhl”, The man said in a wispy voice that managed to carry over the ground in spite of the multitude of noise.

Coert swivelled his head to see Morath walk slowly towards the man. He had never seen more fury in a man’s face before. Hands behind his back, Morath walked up to the man, meeting him halfway on the stone walkway towards the shrine.

“Trident Deuximme Xiao Yin Bei”, Morath spat out. “What business might you have here?”

Coert’s mouth hung open. He had heard of the South-Eastern Command’s infamous leader before, but the image he had in his mind was vastly different from what he saw before him. He couldn’t believe that the man who looked like someone’s genial grandfather from the countryside could be heading one of the Empire’s Navy command forces.

Coert was vaguely aware that he looked like an idiot staring at Xiao’s precious few wispy hair strands blowing in the wind. His bald pate shone in the sun as he gave a hearty laugh, his pot-belly shaking.

“Good. Me on time. No problem more”, Xiao’s broken speech was too loud. Everyone winced as the voice threatened to tear their eardrums apart.

“Please explain, Trident Deuximme Xiao”. Morath fumes while his mouth contorted in an ugly expression. “And by the gods, why are you speaking with voice magic when you are standing right across me?”

Xiao beamed at Morath as another laugh rocked his belly. “Hard of hearing. Forget to disenchant”, he blurted while his voice returned to normal. “You see, I have come for Torr-Sullin”. Xiao pointed at the prisoner. “There. That’s his butt”.

Coert barely managed to contain the laugh that threatened to bubble up his throat. He had always found it funny how the prisoner was held down with his face towards the seas. As a result, the entire multitude of onlookers had to watch at an ass as it trembled in fear.

Morath’s eyebrows knitted together as he stared daggers at Xiao. His impressive stature towered over the old man’s small frame.

“I have come to take Torr-Sullin. He work for me now”, Xiao muttered while tightening his belt. Once again he stroked his gray moustache while he gave an affable smile. “So, Trident Deuximme Morath, release him”.

Dark clouds took over Morath’s face. He pointed his trembling finger at the old man while he seethed, “The South-Eastern command has no control over what the Southern Command does”. Realizing the lapse in front of his men, Morath controlled himself. “Surely, you do not expect Southern Command to listen to your tiny navy”, his voice had taken on the dangerous tint of a man who condensed his anger, building upon it in layers.

Xiao still had the unflappable smile plastered on his face. His slanted eyes twinkled as he turned backwards. “Aide Lin”, He called out.

A woman stepped forward as if materialising from the shadows. The hasty murmurs told Coert that he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t realised the existence of this woman until this moment. Where did she even...Coert’s eyes traced the face of the woman.

And then, Coert was surprised for the third time today.

It was a goddess. At least, that is what Coert thought. Dressed in the same deep blue uniform as her superior, the woman was absolutely breathtaking. Coert gulped as he traced the buttons on her shirt passing over the voluptuous curves of her body.

The woman took out a scroll from the recesses of her uniform in one fluid motion. Wordlessly, she handed over the scroll to Morath. Morath’s brows crinkled as he broke open the goldenwax-seal on the document and began to read.

Lin, aide to Xiao shuffled her feet. The motion made her curious dress waver; the long slits that went up to her thighs offered a glimpse of her snow-white skin and a flash of metal. Coert realised with a start that the woman was armed to the teeth. Harnesses all over her thighs carried an assortment of throwing knives and daggers.

Witch. That was the second thought Coert had about Lin. He still remembered the tale of ice witch from his favourite fairy tale from childhood. He thought back to the times when he would stare at the frigid expression on her face in the book. And this woman was the same. The bridge of her nose, her lips, her eyes, everything about her seemed to be razor sharp, poised to cut even the air before her. Lin’s haughty expression made Coert’s breath catch. It was as if she was a living doll made by a master craftsman with years of effort as he traced each delicate line of her body on a block of unsullied ice crystals.

“What is this!”, Morath’s flat voice broke Coert out of his stupor.

“Written order by the Trident Premier”, Lin spoke. Even her voice felt like a shard of jagged ice eager to draw blood. “An order for acquittal for Torr-Sullin and his transfer to South-Eastern Command”.

“I can see that”, Morath retorted. He turned to face Xiao as he visibly gnashed his teeth, “What I am asking is...why do I have to listen to a dirty Tianshan like you”.

Lin’s jaws tightened as she stared at Morath. That simple action made Coert’s heart skip a beat. So...beautiful, Coert gasped in his mind. He himself was alarmed at the errant thoughts rising in the deep recesses of his mind.

“Trident Deuximme”, Xiao stepped forward, breaking the eye contact between Lin and Morath. “Surely you do not wish to disregard the direct order from the head of all navy in Ebraven Empire”.

Morath’s fists tightened at his sides as he heard the words. True enough; no matter how much he detested the filthy Tienshans, this was a direct order from the Trident Premier, second only to the decree of the Emperor.

“You dirty Tianshans”, Morath fumed. “I can’t trust you lot. One day I will prove the connection between your lot and the Order of Rolsberg. Just you wait, you fogey old bastard”.

Lin sprang like a tiger. In a moment, the slender sword at her waist had jumped to her hands, poised at Morath. Before anyone could even comprehend what was happening, Xiao slammed his bare hand on Lin’s wrist. Her sword slipped from her hands and clattered on the stone walkway.

“You!” Morath stammered. “You tried to kill me!, you little Tiansh—”

“Pardon my daughter’s lapse in judgement”, Xiao made a deep bow. “She is still young and gets upset at the insult of her people”.

“Insult? What insult?” Morath seethed, “the Tianshans are the enemy!”

Xiao smiled, the crow’s feet around his eyes crinkled. “Our people have given up fighting the Empire a long time ago. What can even a small island do against the vast machinations of the Ebraven Empire?”. He bent to pick up the sword his daughter Lin had dropped. He groaned as the action made his hips creak. “The Tianshans, for all intent and purposes are now loyal subjects of the Ebraven Empire. Even the Emperor recognises the fact. Therefore, South-Eastern Command, though it might be the smallest is an instrument carrying out the Empire’s will. Nothing more, nothing less”.

Morath snorted. His mouth quirked up as he spat on the ground. “Truth is, you people have nowhere to go. Even your mainland has abandoned you lot”.

Lin shook like a leaf. Her icy countenance had gained a shade of deep scarlet. Her fingers clutched the wingless dragon motif that wound all the way from her right sleeve, snaking around her neck to her left shoulder.

“Lin”, Xiao urged.

The woman bowed her head. Her luxurious inky hair fell forward, the ends of the waist-length tresses touched the ground.

Morath stared at Lin for a few moments before wrenching his gaze away. “Xiao”, He growled. “One day. One day I will prove your connection to the Rolsberg Order. And then...” Morath snarled, “You and your little navy will be finished”.

“No such thing”, Xiao replied unperturbed while he kept his hands on Lin’s trembling shoulder. “The South-Eastern command has not had any unlawful contact with the Order”. Xiao patted Lin’s shoulders, urging her to get up. “Now, if you excuse us”, he nodded at Morath.

Morath’s brows knit together while Lin stood straight up, her eyes focusing on the prisoner lying prone on the shrine. The woman took a deep breath before taking a strange stance with her left feet forward. Her legs and the daggers around it were in full view as the slit dress did little to conceal what lay beneath. Her hands drew two small iron instruments out of the leather belts she wore. She pointed her hands towards the prisoner, each hand holding one of the curious objects.

Her hands thundered with a flash of fire. The loud boom spread across the field as smoke spewed out of the iron rods in her hand. A dull sound echoed from under the crimson gate where the prisoner lay. His sudden frantic movement laid no doubts that whatever the woman did, it had broken the iron chains on the man’s hands, setting him free. The prisoner shook his hands, the last remaining vestiges of his shackles jangled in delight.

“What”, Morath’s mouth hung open. “What was that?”

Xiao smiled, his hands disappearing under the loose ends of his long sleeves. “Pistols”, He replied. “The dwarves made some interesting things out of the Huenxian Firepowder we use for fireworks”.

The appearance of the new weapon had thrown the ground into disarray. The power of that weapon was no joke, tearing thick iron chains apart. People stared in utter shock at the smoking barrels and the dangerous woman holding it.

“Take your prisoner”, Morath ordered before striding away. “You!” He pointed at Coert, “accompany them”.

Xiao bowed at Morath before urging Lin to follow him. The two were walking towards the shrine when Morath called them from behind. “Why were you pretending to not know the language well?” he asked.

A radiant smile broke through Xiao’s face as he replied, “Fare thee well, Trident Deuximme”. He promptly turned and hastened for the shrine. Coert saluted Morath before following the father-daughter pair.

Coert couldn’t take his eyes off Lin. He walked in a confused daze as his eyes undressed Lin again and again in his mind. Her slender nape, the sway of her hips, the slit in her dress that showed off her curves, all of it bewitched him like some forbidden spell of the faerie queene, long forgotten and lost.

“I’ll gouge your eyes out”, Lin Xiao Yin Bei spat without even turning around. Her fingers already played with a triangular throwing knife peculiar to the Huenxan people, the cluster of kingdoms the Tienshan people called their mainland.

Coert gulped, unable to retort. He quietly followed the pair with his eyes towards the ground. His cheeks burned in shame. Coert’s fists tightened as he derided himself in his mind for acting docile like a child in the flush of his first love.

The sounds of footsteps stopped. Coert looked up to see the prisoner sitting cross-legged on the ground with his back leaning on the wooden chopping block that held his neck down but moments ago. Sullin’s dilated pupils stared at the three. His brows were scrunched together as it tried to make sense of what happened.

“Torr-Sullin Seth Foyal”, Xiao said with a smile, “congratulations”.

Sullin tilted his head while his mouth hung had hung open. He jangled the remnant of his chains in his hands, running his fingers over the broken ends. His mouth gasped like a fish out of water in absolute silence. Sullin looked back at the crimson gate once before blinking at Xiao. “Con...congratulations?” he rasped while his eyes flitted between Lin and Xiao. His eyes went wide when he noticed the curved sword Xiao wore.

“Yes. You, promoted. High Grunter”, Xiao strained while he touched the handle of the massive sword still lodged between the guillotine blade and the wooden block. The sword rippled as cracks like spider web ran through the metal, the faint Huenxan inscription etched on the blade glowing with spilled red light. Before Coert could blink, the humongous blade shrank to the size of its twin hanging by Xiao’s waist.

With the sword gone, the heavy guillotine blade fell forward with a dull thud. It chewed through the wood block, its shimmering surface reflected sunlight like a metal curtain.

“Bisakh-Forpis Traellan Kargris”, Xiao whispered while he read the Aruvahn inscription on the guillotine blade, “Bisakh’s wrath is justice”. Xiao turned to face Lin. “Our new High Grunter hurt. Please help him, aide Lin”.

Lin squinted at Sullin lying on the ground. She rolled her eyes before touching one of her slender fingers to her hair. Coert’s mouth had a tight smile as her hair moved on their own accord, tying themselves up in two small buns on two sides of her head. A further tap of her fingers sent a single thin tail of hair loose from each of the buns that hung just past her shoulders. Coert’s mouth went dry. He had tried to learn magic once. He knew just how precise and delicate the caster’s controlled needed to be to be able to perform such flawless manipulation.

Lin pulled Sullin up roughly, wrapping his hand around her shoulders. She let him lean on her while he limped on his broken leg.

“Now then”, Xiao smiled radiantly at Coert, “Please pass Trident Deuximme Morath my regards”.

“Wh...why?” Sullin stuttered as he leaned in Lin. “Why save me?”

“Because, Torr-Sullin”. Xiao clasped his hands behind his back as he walked to the end of the platform of the shrine, “I need you. I am searching for someone. His name is Rigel. Bring him to me”.

Sullin’s went rigid. His jaws clenched hard while he stared hard at Xiao.

“I’ll break your hands if you try to cop a feel”, Lin warned Sullin. “Relax your hands or I’ll remove them for you”.

A loud noise drowned Sullin’s reply. Two huge ships had sailed into the open sea not much far from the crimson gate. Hidden by the cliffs, they had been able to stay out of sight just before they came upon them. The ships each had a single massive sail with another smaller one.

Coert’s cry of alarm died down in his throat as he saw the sails. The dusty red sails were ribbed like a fish’s fin. A black dragon was painted on each of the main sails. The same wingless eastern dragon emblazoned on Lin and Xiao’s uniforms.

“Lin”, Xiao murmured while looking over his shoulders. “We left the Serrads”.

Lin just nodded while watching the ships drop anchor. The single-decked ship manoeuvred fast like a Kivala, its low deck almost lapping at the sea water.

“How many is this one?” Xiao asked while scratching his cheeks.

“47th Serrad you forgot to bring back”, Lin sighed. “Leave it. This one is just a rental”.

“Before that, Lin”. Xiao whispered something in their tongue.

Coert strained his ears to catch the conversation. He knew that Morath had sent him to listen in on them and report everything back.

Lin flashed a smile at Coert. She stretched her slender fingers towards Coert’s cheek, barely brushing it. Coert tried to draw back in sudden alarm but froze in his tracks, held into place by the woman’s glacial gaze. A jarring shock ran through him as if he was electrocuted. Coert’s mind blanked out for a moment, dark fogs wormed and entangling inside his head, probing and squirming. He had a vague feeling that he forgot something important, something he had heard just now.

Something...I....some name...Rigel, He tried to hold on to the thought before it escaped him but soon, the haze in his mind settled. The frays in his mind knit back without leaving a trace. He shook his head . Eh? What just happened? He stared dumbfounded at Lin, convincing himself her smile just before was an illusion.

“Lin”, Xiao barked.

The woman walked forward while dragging Sullin. By now, the tide had already climbed to their shins. With sharp cracking sounds, spiderwebs began to form on the sea-water. Within moments, a film of translucent white had formed on the water as it frosted over.

Thick ice stretched in a narrow walkway. It cut through the sea to where the ships moored in wait for their Trident Deuximme. Loud exclamations told Coert he wasn’t the only one shocked when Xiao, Lin and Sullin stepped off the shrine and walked through the middle of the sea.

The figures of the three soon vanished as the warm sea and the merciless sun melted the ice-bridge behind them. Their walking figures went out of sight due to the fog rising from the warming ice.

Coert strained his eyes hard to discern Lin’s figure among the white. What am I even thinking? he chided himself. Someone who can freeze an ocean wouldn’t drown. He sighed as he turned back. Still, an Ice Witch. I was right. Coert scratched the back of his neck with his mind hard at work, But still, it feels like I am forgetting something...

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