Chapter Three: Fame in the Floating Market

She sang, a song of promise and potential, of prose and power, the song of humanity shaking the very ground with each wordless verse.

Whirring, shuddering, and finally clicking to life, the small box that Carolli set on the kitchen table spat out a small field of white lights, floating like stars all around the Vasily’s kitchen. After a brief moment, they converged back towards the hole they had originated from, a small round opening in the front of the container. A dull thing, the box was made of a black wood that seemed to absorb all light, made without seam or tool with the only opening other than the front being a long, wide slit in the top.

The Vasily household was gathered downstairs, dressed and groomed for a day out at the market, but still missing a couple of important people.

“Where is your brother?” Ruba demanded. “He was told to be ready over an hour ago.”

Adelaide shrugged from where she was seated, tilting a chair back with both feet thrown upon another. Briddy also lifted her shoulders, fingering the ends of her hair where they hung down her back. Keeping track of Nolan in the mornings was like trying to count grains of sand. A pointless exercise that one was bound to lose track of sooner or later.

As if cued, footsteps clattered on the stone outside the kitchen, bringing Nolan hustling in, fingers still adjusting the square gem pouch on his belt. He had opted for a soft blue overcoat today, the silver thread embroidered into his midnight blue vest winking out like so many stars.

“Need to make sure you were properly dressed for your clothes shopping?” Adelaide ribbed, not even looking up from where she lounged.

“I suppose a jerkin and breeches works for some from birth to grave, but you’ll have to excuse me for desiring variety.” Nolan also remained focused on his belt.

Briddy looked down. She was wearing a tunic and pants, but then again so was Adelaide, albeit her sister’s held fewer wrinkles and rips.

A small -click- sounded as Adelaide set the front legs of her chair down, fingers lazily running over the creased collar of her shirt, sliding under the pointed flaps.

“Difference is,” She drawled out the words, tossing her golden mane over one shoulder with affectation. “I don’t need expensive cloth to look this good.”

Bridget rolled her eyes. It must be nice to be so casually sure of oneself.

With a snort, Nolan muttered something under his breath, and something flashed through the air from behind, metal quickly glinting in the late light of morning. In response, Adelaide gave a long, hard yawn, lazily tilting her hips up and forward so that the homing spoon harmlessly -clinked- off the hilt of the mace slung at her waist.

Glares both smug and irritated began to fly, and Bridget found herself glancing towards her mother, who was watching the whole exchange with a mouth drawn to a thin line. She quickly looked away, seeking anything that wasn’t the three people in front of her before she could be drawn into the squabble. It would end up being her fault anyways, Ruba just hadn’t had the chance to decide how.

“Are there any leftovers-” She barely got the words out before being hushed in a harsh hiss, air escaping from her mother’s lips.

“Your Father is here.”

Those words were enough to make everyone in the room straightened, faces arranged into masks of neutrality and any floating cutlery quickly returned to its place in the side cabinets.

With barely a sound, Kerr’s bulk filled the arched doorway of the kitchen, his gold and silver beard twitching with some unsaid annoyance. Glancing down, Briddy saw that he wasn’t favoring his injured leg as much as he had a few days ago and dimly wondered if her mother had succeeded in getting him to see a Healer.

“Let’s go.” Titanium Kerr swept past his children, pausing to give his wife a peck on the cheek before turning to the box that was innocuously perched on the table.

“Carrolli?”

With a smooth cadence that would have been better described as the movement of dance, Carroli bent down, withdrawing a small disk from the flat case in her hands. A soft, shimmering bronze, the hammered metal warped the light as it reflected, sending small sparkles of ruby and emerald winking out to anyone who looked close.

“Farwek. Whittop.” The housekeeper intoned as she slid the circle into the slit at the top of the box, only inserting it part of the way in and quickly removing her hands.

A long, ringing whine filled the room as the disc began to turn, accelerating at an extreme rate as the white hole it had earlier formed began to lengthen, stretching from floor to ceiling into a thin, glowing oval. As soon as the tip touched the ceiling, the opening snapped wide, revealing a hazy horizon on the other side of the wall, the verdant green of grass smudging into the blue of sky and water.

Striding in, Ruba and Carrolli quickly left the rest of them to follow, Nolan and Adelaide shouldering each other as they scrambled through the hazy doorway. Briddy took a deep breath, mentally preparing but only managed a few steps forward before a meaty hand clamped on her shoulder. Turning her head slightly so that she could see the golden bronze of the Vex’s bracer, she waited to hear what it was her father wanted.

“None of your stunts today girl. If you wish to attend the Palanquin, show that you’re capable of at least a modicum of self control.” The words were accompanied by a rough shake, leaving Briddy to feel like a toddler that had gotten into the larders and tracked flour everywhere.

Titanium Kerr pushed past her, not looking back as he too, walked into the portal and left her behind. Rolling the shoulder he had gripped -Sculptor’s teeth, he was strong, even with only one hand- Briddy followed suit, holding her breath as she took the first step through.

Buzzing filled her ears, sweeping over her skin and seeming to fill up every opening that it could find, which unfortunately included Bridget’s nose and ears. The sensation faded near-instantly after she took a few more steps, leaving her spitting and sneezing after stumbling out the other side.

“Hurry up!” Nolan scolded from nearby as her sinuses purged the invisible tickling sensation with another good sneeze. He was standing nearby, floating the box through the portal, which closed with a snap the instant it was through. The rest of the group had already begun making their way down the hill, so with one more good shake of her head, Bridget began to follow.

It had been a while since she had used a portalbox, and it remained as unpleasant to her in memory as in experience, but the buzzing malady was quickly forgotten as she took a glance at what lay ahead.

The floating market of Whittop was surrounded by an unremarkable settlement filled with drab, squat houses painted in grays and greens of the dullest shade, and bordered by a massive lake whose lapping waters promised excitement and commerce. The mouths of five rivers fed into the enormous body of water, the edge of which would take a full day to simply walk around.

Despite the town’s mundane appearance, all manner of seacraft inhabited the cerulean waters of the lake, soaring vessels with sails of silk and cotton that brought goods from all corners of Sekna's Reach to trade in the market. Cogs with their unfolding masts, squat houseboats with brightly colored windows, and schooners with graceful prows all thronged as one in a slowly bobbing mass of wood and rope. Arranged in the water was a massive length of glowing cord, sectioning off a generous area in the shape of a half-moon for the market itself. Long, flat barges, intricately built and decorated carried the shopfronts for the merchants, slowly circulating between the shore and the ships, taking orders and retrieving any goods not already on board.

The horizon beyond the lake was filled with an enormous mound of black stone, darker than the night and glittering in the sun, the curve of the rock was chiseled by an unnatural hand to indicate a musculature smooth and without seam. The ridge rose, stretching over seven hundred feet in height and longer than Briddy’s eyes could follow in any direction to the side. They were close to the Shoulder here, but not close enough that she could see the finer details etched into the fallen titan’s flesh, or the guilds patrolling the walkways carved into the top.

Near the shore directly in front of the town floated several large, flat docks which people had congregated on to embark into the shops as they circulated, but on a farther side of the shore lay six smaller but grander platforms, each decorated with a canopy emblazoned with familiar images. A golden feather, a purple flame, a sapphire sun lay among them, each one guarded and used by the major Guilds for their shopping.

It was to these platforms that Bridget and her family turned, walking down roughly paved cobblestone streets past people hanging out their laundry and feeding crying children. Eyes clung to their group, sliding off only long enough to check and see if the person next to them had also noticed, and Briddy could quickly hear murmurs of her parents' names rising behind them. A househusband’s whisper, a sharp cry from a child who recognized a few seconds later than others, a called greeting from some particularly brave soul; all were ignored as the Vasily family swept their way towards the floating platform.

Standing in front were four guards, the tips of their pikes rigidly aligned with the sun overhead, the soft, golden feather of the Gilded Down embroidered into the tabards that were fastidiously tucked into belts. A quick nod from her father and they swept aside, Briddy returned her eyes where they had stayed throughout the entire trip; firmly fixed on the ground only a few paces ahead of her.

“You sent word?” Ruba’s voice indicated she already knew the answer before Carolli said anything, but expected one all the same.

“Of course. As soon as we embark, the barges will begin to come.”

Dodging around the pair of women, Bridget made her way onto the platform, idly fingering the golden fringe that hung off the parted canopy that formed an entrance. A round table waited inside, shaded from the sun and surrounded by intricately carved chairs with high backs and no arms. Perched atop the table was a silver pitcher, the red liquid inside beading clear condensation onto the gleaming container.

Without waiting, Adelaide slung herself into one of the chairs, ignoring the beverage that Nolan reached across her to pour into goblets he had somehow produced. Lazily, their parents and housekeeper filed in, taking up chairs and cups as they looked towards the horizon at the flatboat already making its way over.

“Whisper never waits long,” Kerr muttered, downing his entire cup of wine in one gulp and then wincing. “What kind of vinegar are they passing as good drink these days?” He demanded.

“We’ll purchase something better from Fennel’s when they come by.” Ruba’s reply was soothing, though said in a way that suggested her husband was being a child. “I’ve heard there’s been supply issues lately, Inanna mentioned the hordes have not been kind to the south this year.”

Briddy said nothing, her attention currently locked on Nolan in a silent battle of wills. Everyone had gotten a cup except for her and by the look on his face, he was daring her to complain. Glancing around the table to see if anyone else noticed, she spotted Adelaide and Carolli watching them, though their demeanor struck her as those of spectators and not of allies.

“Nolan can I-”

“The shop is here.” Adelaide interrupted this time, pushing upwards as she added “And it looks like there’s another not far behind.”

Sure enough, the first barge had nearly arrived, its carved facade intricately painted to look like fabric formed its walls and roof, thin pieces of wood cleverly twisted to form spots of shining thread across the entrance to spell “Mister Whisper’s Seams and Shrouds.”

Sweeping to her feet, Ruba ushered the group forward as the boat extended its gangplank, and Briddy tried to ignore the bobbing surface underfoot as water shifted the wood. Passing under the doorway, she let her fingers linger on the delicate swirls that were supposed to depict wrinkled silk, the frame feeling more solid than she felt.

Despite the chaotic pattern of the store’s exterior, with its meld of carved fabric and thread all spilling into itself, the interior of the store was neat, fastidiously organized, and cleaned. A large showroom was lined floor to ceiling with hundreds of drawers, each fastened with a black iron latch and neatly labeled beneath the handle in white paper. Several mannequins stood around, bolted to the floor at their base and modeling different long, flowing overcoats in a variety of styles.

“Ah, the Vasilys! I’m shocked to see you back for a third time!” A rotund man, his hairs combed back over a mostly bald scalp, came bustling out from behind the large dividing screens that blocked the back of the shop. His red cheeks were spread in a welcoming grin, arms wide as he and Ruba kissed the air over the other’s face. “Don’t tell me that you’re back to have Miss Adelaide’s Shroud fixed again, those things shouldn’t even be able to rip, let alone get the horrible tears she brought in last time.”

Adelaide gave a snort at that, shaking her head. “I graduated years ago, Whisper. I’ve better rainment now.”

“Well, so you do! Though I must say the make is rather…minimalistic?” The shopkeep let the statement go up at the end like a question, briefly looking her over before his eyes landed on Briddy, who was rubbing one of the overcoat's fur-lined hoods.

“Don’t tell me? Your middle daughter has decided to pursue a path to the Guilds as well?”

Realizing she was the topic of conversation, Bridget dropped the cloth and quickly straightened, tucking a few pieces of hair that had escaped from her horsetail behind her ears.

“That would be correct. She needs to be fitted for her own Shroud.” Ruba’s voice was dry, but Whisper’s grin barely faded as he motioned Briddy towards the back, where a rail-thin woman with a solemn face and dark hair had appeared.

“She’ll also need appropriate clothing for the climate…” Her mother’s instructions faded as Briddy was swept away behind the screens, into the small area sectioned off in the corner. A long mirror was mounted on the wall, and a platform only a few paces wide was placed in front of it. As she climbed up, directed by a wave from the waifish woman, Bridget realized her brother had followed her in and had taken up residency next to the looking glass.

“Did I need supervision because I might find a way to terrorize the pins and rob them of their futures?” She asked sourly, raising her arms as the attendant began taking measurements.

“It seemed like a good idea. Those poor pins have been working for so long.” Nolan’s reply was dry as he focused on combing his fingers through his curls.

“Hmph. Maybe they should get fitted for Shrouds so they can go to school a second time instead. Except they got banned, didn’t they, so that’s not an option. If-” Briddy stopped herself from saying anything else as the slender woman who was crouched near her feet looked up, a look of mild confusion and concern marring her face. Perhaps this wasn’t the place for this conversation.

Casting around for a new subject, Bridget watched as the shophand left, marking down more than what seemed to be numbers on a small pad of paper that she had pulled from her pocket. “Shrouds, eh? It seems like such a morbid name for a student uniform.”

Nolan looked up from the mirror, where he had been fussing with his vest. “Fitting, though. It’s a reminder that the school will bury you in it if you’re not careful.”

A heavy silence followed as their eyes met, and Briddy wondered once again if he knew what she did, if he struggled under the weight of it every day.

Finally, he added, “There are more protective spells twisted into that silk than most guilds have on their armor, so you should be fine.” As though to accentuate his words, Whisper and his assistant came bustling in, a long bundle of gauzy something draped over the tailor’s arms. The cloth was semi-sheer, a pattern dyed into its threads, starting in a deep green near one end that slowly faded to a snowy white at the other. As the tailor walked, the fabric fluttered, seeming to catch and ripple in the air as he approached Briddy.

“Try this on, Miss Vasily,” Whisper ordered, lowering an arm to slide the garment over her shoulders. The long overcoat was soft, with two slits cut into the side where sleeves would be, allowing her arms to slip through. The wide shoulders formed a square that slid off her own shoulders, and the Shroud brushed the back of her heels, the soft fabric gently brushing her ankles.

Slowly, Briddy brushed near her heart, where an emblazoned sigil of a domed building hovering above the horizon sat. She hadn’t ever thought she would carry this crest, let alone wear the uniform of the University, and yet here she stood, gauzy fabric rippling around her.

“It’s so light. How’s it supposed to protect anything?” She murmured, examining how it looked in the mirror. The Shroud was sheer enough that she could see her silhouette and clothes underneath, yet still opaque to a degree that obscured the details of them.

“You’d be surprised.” Nolan’s voice held a small edge, shooting Bridget’s head upward. She barely had time to register the curl of his lips as he whispered a word, to see the spark that lit in his palm, before jerking out of the path of the fistful of fire her brother tossed her way.

With her movement, the shroud flowed, undulating like a twisting creek around her and then tightening close as the spell fizzled past, leaving the smell of charred air behind it. The flames struck the screen, briefly flaring in a defiant burst of light before stuttering out, a small finger of smoke left behind.

“You do realize this is a boat made of wood-” Briddy began at the same time that Mister Whisper cried out, “Not in my shop, young man! No more of that I say!”

With the outbursts, Ruba appeared where the screen opened up into the hallway, taking in the scene and smoothly stepping in.

“Wonderful work as always, Whisper. Come now, children, the rest of the order is complete and I need to place another for the banquet your father and I are attending next month.” With that she swept from the room, wiping the frown from the tailor’s face with her. Whisper vaguely flapped his hands towards the scorch mark Nolan had left on the screen and ushered the two Vasilys with him, giving Bridget rapid instructions as they walked.

“Just a drop of blood on that nametag near the top will mark it as yours, and make it easier to locate if you lose it or a fellow student picks it up. Only wash it in cold water though, you don’t want to warp the fabric.”

Bridget nodded dutifully, but her attention was caught by the odd assortment of clothes that his waifish assistant was packaging as they exited into the main showroom.

Thin shirts with thinner straps were being wrapped in brown paper alongside short-legged pants, further underneath was a bundle of thick wool and flannel. All was in that same green and white, but none of the clothes were anything Briddy had chosen, or even had the chance to voice an opinion on.

Ruba was already dictating something to the girl packing the clothes while she slowly counted out gems from a velvet pouch. but took one look at her daughter’s face and raised a full, dark eyebrow.

“Quit pouting and try to look like you’re enjoying yourself.” Her mother admonished, vaguely gesturing towards the door. “Give me that Shroud and go back out to your father and Adelaide, I’ll have these sent over to the school once I finish here.”

Not needing to be told twice, Briddy ducked out of the light garment, handing it to her mother and hustling back out into the sunlight, blinking a few times to clear her eyes and breathe in the smell of fresh water and free air. Adelaide and Kerr were nowhere to be seen, but a second shop boat had pulled up alongside Whisper’s, its boxy storefront decorated with a practical sign that read “Filthy With Knowledge” and in smaller script underneath “Books, tomes and all manners of written materials”.

Itching to see what books she could get her hands on, perhaps a couple to read on her own time, Briddy hastened down the gangplank from the Shroud shop, hopping the last step onto the floating platform. Two paces carried her across the floorboards of the Gilded Dawn’s private dock before the door to the book shop swung open, releasing Kerr and Adelaide from its interior. Adelaide held a sizeable stack of books in one hand and a thin paperbacked novel in the other, her thumb casually flipping between the pages as she balanced down the gangplank.

Swallowing her disappointment after one look from her father’s craggy face, Briddy sat down in one of the chairs to await the arrival of the next boat. The rest of the family exited from the tailor's shop and Adelaide handed the tomes over to Carroli, who secreted them away to who knows where with a murmur and a flick of her wrist. The Vasilys sat in silence while the next couple of boats lazily made their way over, a barge with a large, orange striped awning making its arrival first. Under the lined canopy glittered rows and rows of crystal flasks, filled with a kaleidoscope of colors that swirled, bubbled, and fizzed within.

The largest section of shelves was taken up by a percolating lime-green potion, emblazoned by a sign that said “Rapidew and you! Savor the mixer of this quick healing Elixer!” Other signs were posted around the shelves as well, proclaiming products such as “Barkbeer! One sip will get you back on your feet!” as well as “Ray-ale” and “MistMead”.

Briddy got so far as standing up before Carolli and Ruba swept past her, already listing orders to the shopgirl that swept forward, welcoming them to “Fennel’s Libation Outpost.”

Taking a deep breath in, and then letting it out, Bridget tried to swallow her frustration. The fact that she was unable to select anything for herself was maddening, and it felt as though she wasn’t even there at this rate. Despite her breaths, her chest still burned, and she was going to walk over the gangplank anyways when her father cleared his throat, loudly. Jumping slightly, Briddy turned to see that Adelaide and Nolan had already taken their leave, ducking into the other boat that had stopped beside the potion outpost, a squat barge that held a sign proclaiming it “The Shifting Trinket”.

From within the dark black wood of the shopfront, Bridget could see heaps of twisted metal, spools and spools of different metallic wires, jugs of bolts and screws, and canisters of glittering powdered gems.

Kerr cleared his throat once more, and she turned on her heel to face him, shoulders tensing and the skin of her inner cheek clamped between her teeth. Her father wasn’t looking at her, however, but rather at the crouched form near the side of the entrance, who shot up once they realized the jig was up.

Straightening, the man adjusted his long, tightly tailored jacket and smoothed his dark, slicked hair, flashing a smile as his hands dropped to reveal the sapphire sun emblazoned over his heart. He got so far as to open his mouth in greeting before Kerr’s fist shot out, Vex shining in the midday light as he swung.

Inhaling sharply, Briddy took a step forward, but the stranger ducked, dropping to avoid the swing and only succeeding in getting his collar gripped by Kerr’s large hands. Easily lifting the man with one hand, her father’s features creased into a scowl, focused on the embroidered crest he now held at eye height.

“What’s Final Sunrise want this time? Haven’t they done enough damage to my family?” He roughly shook the man.

“A follow-up on the groundbreaking news of your heir, that’s all!” The stranger quickly got the words out, eyes beadily sweeping around the dock.

“How did you get on here?” Bridget asked, moving forward until she stood next to her father.

“Bridget go into the store with your siblings.”

She refused to look at Kerr, keeping her attention on the man he held aloft. His face had arranged into a grin when she spoke to him, and he managed to keep smiling as he replied. “A couple of quick stones to those hardworking fellows out front and I was waved on through! It’s just for an interview, of course.” Before either Briddy or Kerr could reply, the man shrugged out of his jacket, and hit the deck of the platform in a crouch. He stood up, smile still large on his face as he proclaimed “Sefir.” An orb the size of Kerr’s fist shot from the pocket of the jacket that he still held, whizzing through the air to float near their heads as a series of four chimes rang out, the notes falling, and then rising.

The sphere itself was made of clear, light blue glass, a twisted iris of some dark, dull grey metal sat in the center, light slowly spilling around its edges like a creek bubbling over pebbles when the water is low. The bubbling quickly became a rush, and a wide cone of light split out, sweeping the surroundings before focusing on the man in the suit, who launched into a speech ignoring the irritated huff from the large man towering over him.

“This is Lord Carmine for the Final Sunrise, here with the great Titanium Kerr of Gilded Dawn and his heir, Bridget! Now you might all be familiar with her from the breakout interview last month when she came forward as the one chosen by his mighty weapon, an exclusive brought to you-”

Kerr leaned slightly to the side, dropping the jacked and placing a hand on his daughter’s shoulder.

“Not.A.Word.” He said, teeth gritted.

Briddy was too busy fighting to keep her face straight as his grip painfully tightened, the skin twisting under the pressure as she gave a quick, subtle nod. A small noise behind her announced that Ruba had begun making her way off the ship, but Kerr waved her off, not turning to see. Glancing over her shoulder, Bridget caught a glimpse of Adelaide and Nolan, also in the middle of making their way down, slowly backing onto the ship. Nolan was tucking something into his gem pouch, and Adelaide was holding a keepedish, but neither looked like they wanted to cross their father.

“-now this won’t be live in scrying stones until tonight, but how does it feel to be the one inheriting such a weighty legacy? I mean Titanium Kerr, that cannot be an easy name to live up to.”

Looking over at the reporter, who was now clearly waiting for an answer from her, Bridget just took a breath and shook her head, and Kerr swooped in to take the question.

“It’s a heavy responsibility, that’s what.” He rumbled, finally taking his hand from its painful grasp so he could cross his arms. “The surprise of my weapon’s choice caught us off guard, considering the many merits of her siblings, but the education of Palanquin University turned them into fine members of the Gilded Dawn in little time. Adelaide went on her first hunt not a month ago, taking down a MountainCore nearly on her own once it managed to…”

Briddy’s mouth tightened, her chin raising as she listened to her father list all of the accomplishments and merits of her siblings, their daring escapades and triumphs, and not a word about her. It was only a matter of time before the conversation eventually turned to Kerr’s accomplishments and Kerr’s glory, but it didn’t matter now. The damage had been done when she stepped into the public eye, and no matter how hard he tried to distract them now, they knew about her.

The interview stretched on as she stood to the side, a piece of scenery to make her father look better, not speaking, but no longer able to be swept into obscurity. Like it or not, she was more than a match for her father in a battle of wills, and even for all his fame and fortune, he could not push her back into the background.

“Inevitably, such a legacy would be too much pressure for someone weak, unprepared for such trials, but when I was that age…”

She stretched, tossing her head with a twisted mouth. He was making it very clear that he lacked any faith in her success. If this was what he willed, then fine, but she would not accept that her siblings were the only ones who could be worth his words. Bridget silently vowed, then and there, to herself, to Vex, to anyone that could hear the silent will of a young woman being made steel. She would make her own path, forge her own story, be worthy of someone's tale one day in the future, good or bad. She would survive, if only to see Kerr and his house, his entire damned legacy, burn to the ground before she faltered in his shadow.