Chapter 55-
The clouds above were swelled to the brink of bursting, they hung low and heavy in the sky. There was a scent in the air just before it rained, a cold, drab smell that swirled with the gunpowder that filled the air.
Rounds fired through the air in perverse staccato rhythms. Corporal Yetts peered at the shore from his binoculars, crouched behind a makeshift bulwark of rock and plating.
“Hell!” he cried, gritting his teeth. “Where’d they get cannons?!”
“I don’t-” Private Jennings cut himself off, realizing that it was a rhetorical question. His heart pounded with fear; every now and again a cry of pain would be heard from nearby, following the explosion of cannon fire. He wanted desperately for the owners of those voices to be fine, but couldn’t compromise their immediate position.
In recent months, attacks like these had become increasingly common. The growing poverty of New Hopeland had given way to higher rates of crime, and it was not unheard of for those living in seaside harbor towns to defect entirely from society and join the crews of marauders. The Hopish military was only now beginning to take these bands seriously, posting regular coastal patrols, but this was the first time a raid had been levied against an actual land-based outpost.
“They’re getting pretty gutsy,” Yetts snarled under his breath.
Jennings was close to removing his gloves and biting his nails clean off. “How close is General Monaco?” he pried.
Yetts was quiet for a second, watching the coast for movement. “He’ll be here.”
The Private sighed in an attempt to breathe out his anxiety, looking down into the coarse dirt of the hilltop they were taking cover on. His moment of silence was cut short by an instruction from Yetts that sent his heart into his stomach.
“Jennings, we’re going to make an aggressive advance. When I call go, we move to that rock!”
Yetts pointed to a boulder a little less than ten feet away, just big enough to cover both of them.
“Yes sir!” His body was filled with the poison of fear, but stronger than that was his obligation to his commanding officer.
“Okay,” Yetts barked, making eye contact with another team of troops behind a nearby shelter. “Ready… Go!”
Jennings held his rifle to his chest and dashed out from their cover, tailing Yetts. Seconds later, the ground near them exploded, tossing up dirt, grass, and small bits of stone in its wake. Yetts paused for a second behind the rock; he looked spacey and confused, grimacing as if there was something painful in his head.
“Corporal?” Jennings gave a standard signal with his hands which meant ‘all good?’ Yetts wasn’t looking at him, though, and couldn’t seem to hear him.
“That’s strange,” Jennings reasoned to himself. “There isn’t any more noise now than-” The pin dropped in his mind: Yetts’ hearing was blown out by the explosion so close to his head. He kept looking around quickly, only able to rely on his vision to scout out threats. Jennings watched his typically capable superior officer now helpless to even peek out from their cover, unable to make out the noise of battle.
“Jennings!” Yetts yelled, loudly enough that he could hear himself through the sharp, painful ringing in his ears. “Get to the squad over there!” He pointed to the group that had moved out with them to a different cover spot, about three enlistees. “I have to withdraw, don’t stay caught out!”
Jennings’ heart was in his throat, but he understood that this was the best decision to make for both of their safety.
“Alright,” he eyed the distance between the two boulders, about twelve feet, with a thin tree in between. “I just have to listen for the cannons and the guns.” Over the next few seconds he formulated his actions with anxiety. There were no lighting advantages on a day like this, with overcast weather that draped everything in a uniform brightness. He listened carefully to the sound of the enemy’s weapons, for the moment their pattern would be broken and he’d have a chance to make a break for it.
“Wait… Wait… Wait…”
And then, it appeared. His opportunity, like a silver thread to reach out and take hold of.
Jennings broke away from the boulder and dashed a quick four steps to the tree, ducking and rolling to shrink his target. His heart was racing, but he was making it.
“Keep going!!” he screamed at himself.
In an instant, the fledgling hope he’d mustered was snuffed out with the sound of another explosion against the boulder.
“--?!”
The dirt and shrapnel were accompanied by thick red streaks of blood that painted the grassy hill. All he could do to react was to throw himself against the tree and cower.
“Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!” He didn’t know what to curse, his angers and passions were directed randomly outward; no time to organize what he felt. Around him, a hail of bullets rained down from the shore, splinters burst through the air as pieces of the tree were blasted off. Jennings trembled in terror beneath the onslaught; helplessly, he threw his hands together and prayed a quiet word to God that his life might be spared..
What he could not have heard over the chaos of battle was the sound of hooves clapping against the earth, growing closer with every second that passed. Somewhere, in his mind, he heard the words of a man he’d known only by his legacy.
“A prayer like that will never reach God,
Who has no time for the rats that scamper at his feet.
Let me demonstrate for you
The soldier’s prayer!!”
The flap of a small cape in the wind, and a shadow of its wearer above him. Then, the words of power.
“[IRON MAIDEN]!!”
A blinding light and the crack of thunder; with a flick of his arm, Ky Monaco sent waves of lightning surging through the air. For a moment, the whole world was bathed in the glow of his power, and the chaos of the battle was made into a single, uproarious act.
When Jennings could see again, he shook tremendously upon seeing General Monaco standing before him. His dirty blond hair was short and shocked with streaks of blue; his uniform, already distinguished by the silver-trimmed paludamentum of a general, was further modified to cling to his body, with several other silver tassels hanging from it. In every way, Ky Monaco was exceptional; his stance, full of command and strength; his deep blue eye, sharp and enveloping; his very presence, intense and humbling.
The Dauntless Storm!
The Battlefield Renaissance!
He!
Ky Monaco!
“What’s your rank, soldier?”
At once, every sign of quaking left Jennings’ body. General Monaco’s whole demeanor intimidated him, his lightning-bolt-emblazoned eyepatch that betrayed his years of combat experience clashed with his rather young-looking face.
“P-private, sir!” Jennings stumbled as he rose to his feet, standing at attention with his rifle held against his shoulder.
Monaco eyed him up and down; he was a good half-head taller than Jennings, and his eye was like the towering hand of God on Judgement Day.
“No need to salute, soldier,” his voice was smooth, with only a hint of a nasally droll that might characterize a teenager. “Good job holding down the fort. Your corporal is still deaf, you’re on-duty with the salvage crew. I’m reconning at base.”
“The salvage…?” Jennings turned around to inspect where Monaco was staring. To his amazement, there was not a single pirate left alive, and their ship, which had been a good forty feet into the water, had been split in two and was sitting on the shallow floor of the ocean.
The young private couldn’t believe his eyes. How had the General performed such an incredible task? Feats like these were only heard of in ancient myths of demigods who wielded heavenly weapons, and to do so in a matter of seconds with only a wave of the arm…
Jennings looked back at Monaco, who was about to turn away. Holstered at the man’s hip was a strange looking object, some kind of black baton with two wings near the handle. As the living legend strolled up to the hilltop, where his black steed waited obediently, Jennings had no other choice than to turn back and group with the other members of the response team. They looked out over the waters, to the gloomy, grey sea, and the once-threatening vessel laying in two pieces among it.
---
“What the hell??” Gallow wailed. “Whaddya’ mean we’re out? Already?”
The Academy administrator, an older gentleman in full tweed, was taken aback by his reaction.
“Gallow!” Sonsee wanted to yell, but restrained her voice to avoid causing more of a scene.
The administrator explained to them that the gift of quarter was only valid up to the point that the entrance exam results were processed, as the space would be needed for the incoming students.
“You have two days’ notice, Mr…” the administrator paused awkwardly, his hand on the doorknob. “Mr Gallow!” He shut the door gently, but in a way that let the two of them know that he really would have liked to have slammed it closed.
Gallow sighed, placing his forehead on the door. Sonsee chimed in from behind,
“Do you know what I’m going to say?”
With a groan, he replied, “It reflects badly on Janna.”
Sonsee didn’t say anything back, but kept a smug kind of silence. Gallow stepped away from the door and gazed around the room at the things they had to pack up.
“Okay…” he nodded to himself. “Okay… This isn’t so bad…”
“Oh yeah…?” Sonsee asked curiously, wondering what he was thinking. Gallow turned around, an excited grin spreading over his face.
“Because this gives us the perfect opportunity to make that voyage!”
---
The dorms were in a smaller building annexed to the Academy proper, where the exam results were being posted, in addition to letters being sent out to the passing students.
Janna leapt up and down with joy, the sound of her shoes echoed across the hall and caused the rest of the crowd to shoot her some distressed looks. She was by far the youngest of those enrolling at the prestigious university, and most of the other admittees didn’t even register that she was now their peer.
“See, see?” Gallow smirked, his hand on her shoulder. “I just told you not to sweat it, and everything worked out!”
She couldn’t respond with anything other than a giggle; her happiness bubbled up in a contagious way.
There was an awkward mood in the hall, all of those admitted felt like they should have been supremely relieved and celebrating, but those emotions were caught in a kind of screen net. The whole country was reeling from the death of President Cartwright; the Vice President had stepped in to manage the uproar in the government, and nationwide mourning had ensued. Cartwright was one of the most popular leaders of the time, and his passing felt like a critical blow to the integrity of the country.
On-site that day were a few visiting politicians and local celebrities. In recent years, the sciences, especially medicine, had gained a kind of mystique. It was the leading force of progress in the world, and popular peoples liked showing up to be included in headlines. One figure was not there for recognition, however.
“Congratulations.”
Gallow, Sonsee, and Janna flipped around, struck by fear for the instant.
“G-Gideon!”
The Captain was dressed in remarkably casual clothes as opposed to his usual military standard.
“W-what are you doing here?” Gallow stammered.
Gideon’s face was calm and serene, the air of superiority Gallow had always felt was surprisingly absent. “I’m just visiting Angelique. You know, it’s about to be a very busy time for him.”
Gallow was picking up on the strange differences in his former captain, and once their formalities were exchanged, he pulled him aside.
“Hey, Gideon?” Gallow started, keeping his voice private.
Gideon had a curious look. “Is something wrong?”
“Is something…” Gallow searched for the right word. “Different?”
Gideon’s blank response told him that he was puzzled by the question. “Pardon?”
Gallow inspected him up and down, gesturing to his appearance. “You just seem… like you’re a little more relaxed…”
Gideon processed his words for a moment, then felt a tinge of self-awareness. “I’m just feeling more…” It was his turn to find the right word to describe the change in his life. “I’m taking it slower.”
In truth, he had spent the time since the speech locked in his apartment, staring at the ceiling. Everything since his fight at the warehouse had felt like a blur, even as he lay in his hospital bed recovering from his burns, his mind was set on what had to be done. The speech itself had had a maddening effect on him, it was almost unreal what had happened, and that he had survived.
In the days of mourning that followed, he found that the city’s grief had seeped into his pores, and its acne now covered his body. Stricken by this malaise, he retreated into solitude and found that when he awoke from a dream that quickly slipped from his fingers, he was unable to move for the weight of the sadness that now filled him.
For the first time in his life, his exhaustion was not physical, but spiritual. His mind was mired in swamp, the mere thought of what his next move might be exhausted him. With nothing else to do, he questioned why exactly he felt this way.
“Obviously, it’s the mourning,” he reasoned, but that was not enough. Once he characterized the reason for his depression, he should have been able to pick it apart, dissect it, and at least leave his bed, but this answer was not sufficient, a deep part of himself knew that he was missing something.
And so, for hours he remained in his sheets, half-dressed and curtains drawn. Periodically, he was able to stand and eat, but was ultimately pulled back to his bed like a dog chained to a post. The next day followed in kind, and drove him to reflect on the fact that he’d done absolutely nothing productive for a whole twenty-four hours. Then, as if he’d stumbled into it, he realized that he’d never quite reflected on himself before.
“Gideon Jepta knows where he stands.”
For years, his entire career, ever since he decided as a boy that he would join the military, he had repeated that to himself.
“If you see it, you must follow it.”
It was the meaning of his resolve, to never question the world in front of him so that he could more easily dominate it. Advent’s words in the warehouse had planted doubt in him like an explosive; as he settled into leisure and his mind was free to wander, that bomb had been uncovered and blown out his whole foundation.
“This is it,” he thought. But he wasn’t relieved to finally have his answer, he was terrified of its complexity. He realized now that he was sitting on years of memories and experiences that now had to recontextualized. His government had told him that he was the one who had ended the Andeidra-Demeena War, he was hailed as a hero and awarded the silver feather, the highest honor of the military. His daring assault had supposedly been the one to save the nation of Andeidra from collapsing under invasion. Gideon was not one to be especially prideful, but in many ways, since that day, his person was molded by this status. The revelation that he was not who he thought he was pained him, it sent arrows through his heart and caused him to cling tightly to himself in the dark, shuddering.
“Alright,” Gallow’s voice wavered, clearly unsure, but not willing to press the issue further. Suddenly, his body language shifted, he was turned slightly, and now had a look like that of a salesman. “Hey, I don’t want a favor from you,” he began. “But if you could-- maybe-- point me to someone who could give me a little help?”
Sonsee watched the two of them chatter out of the corner of her eye. “What are they talking about?” she wondered, seeing Gideon’s brow furrow and his lips tighten at one end, confused.
“A ship?” she heard the captain say. “Why do you need help finding a ship to New Hopeland?”
“Oh,” she thought. “This is how he’s going about it.”
“Well,” Gallow chuckled. “The problem isn’t finding the ride…”
Gideon bit his lower lip and raised his brow. “Ah,” his tone was almost disappointed. “I see.”
Gallow laughed nervously. “Y-yeah… You know, I just figured someone might be willing to sponsor us for stepping up at the speech, you know… Just a… Just a little favor… Y’know…?” His voice spiked in pitch as he spoke.
Gideon sighed. “You know what, I’ll get something together for you.”
Gallow was visibly shocked. “You?”
Gideon waved his hand nonchalantly. “Sure, don’t worry about it. I know somebody who’ll take you there. They’re already headed in that direction, a captain.”
Gallow stood with his mouth open for a moment, unsure of what to say. “Really?”
“I already said it, didn’t I?”
Another smile spread across Gallow’s face. “That’s great,” he said. “Thank you- thanks a lot…”
Gideon glanced over at Sonsee, whose sharp hearing let her listen in from further than the average eavesdropper. “Is she going, too?”
Gallow looked quickly from Sonsee to Gideon. “Sonsee? Yeah.”
Gideon nodded slowly. “Alright, just make sure the two of you don’t cause any trouble, and try to eat a little less than your share. She doesn’t really take well to freeloaders in the first place.”
Gallow tilted his head. “She?”
Gideon looked at him as if he was stupid. “The captain?”
---
Level 4 of Hilltop’s Head district was scarcely seen by anyone not in the shipping industry. Where most travelers stopped at the Chaff or Braid Park (if they had paid enough, even Paper Square), the Head was reserved for large shipments and important visitors. Its security was the best that the city could afford, and there was a multitude of clearance checks that Gideon was able to easily wave them through.
All about the docks, large, burly men were doing heavy labor; working together to lift large shipping containers, checking hundreds of items of inventory, and conversing with various business partners.
Snow had not yet fallen yet, but winter’s chill was already palpable in the air. Almost no sunlight was able to penetrate the heavy clouds that hung in the sky. Large nets stretched overhead, tacked into the walls of the ravine. A thin fog permeated the Levels above them, making it an altogether gloomy day at the docks.
“There she is!” Gideon exclaimed, gazing at a ship anchored on the other side of the waterway. Gallow and Sonsee peered at it with critical eyes, trying to size up what kind of a voyage this was going to be. It was a whaleback cargo vessel, cigar-shaped with the ends bent upward; the railing of the main deck unconventional for a ship, with less guarding at foot-level. Atop the sternside was a large circular turret that appeared to house the cabins and superstructure. Another turret was positioned closer to the ship’s bow which served as a lookout, though it also seemed to have an interior as well.
Gideon led them to the nearest drawbridge, which shifted positions every five minutes or so. There was a crowd gathered by the bridge, many different workers pushing crates atop wheeled carts.
Sonsee grimaced, the stench of work was almost nauseating, and she was certain that some of them were leering at her in secret; she definitely noticed a fair share of glances her way in the city.
The mechanism of gears and belts spun to life and the bridge slowly lowered, connecting at the halfway point. On cue, many of the workers lifted up their things again and proceeded across the way. Gallow and Sonsee tried their best to follow Gideon through the crowd while keeping an eye on their ship, it was quite odd-looking compared to most other cargo vessels docked at the harbor.
As they rounded the corner of the bridge to get a head-on look at it, they spotted a metal railway that led up to the deck. Gideon took the lead and strolled up to the deck, Gallow and Sonsee in tow.
Immediately, a woman’s shouts came into earshot, spitting commands in every direction. “Down to cargo four! And you, stop hangin’ around!”
Gideon called out, “Hey, Thorny!”
A figure was standing about ten feet from them, facing the other direction and wearing a long, navy blue jacket and cap. As soon as Gideon called out, ‘Thorny’ turned around with an aggressive step.
Immediately, Gallow and Sonsee were struck by her appearance. Her face could have easily passed for a more effeminate man’s, helped by the fact that her dark hair was cut much shorter than the average woman. It poked out messily from beneath her cap, which was ringed with a gold trim and bore an anchor crest at its center. Her heavy wool coat was a few sizes too large and hung down to her shins, the sleeves rolled up to her forearms. The ease with which her face scowled at them seemed to indicate that she was accustomed to it.
As soon as she saw Gideon, she put away her bared teeth as her expression softened to a more pleasant acknowledgment. Gallow noticed that, despite the grey, gloomy weather, there was a single ray of sunlight beaming down on her. It made her appear more out-of-place, a strange bird.
The mysterious captain stepped towards them, her heavy black boots clacking against the metal deck.
“Jepta, I almost forgot about you.” Her voice was sharp and had a forceful confidence Gallow was unused to hearing, even from Sonsee, who was more polite in her speech. “These the freeloaders?” she looked both of them up and down with a keen eye. Gallow suddenly became worried that there was something about him that was untrustworthy, some sort of social cue that he had foolishly forgotten about.
Gideon gestured from one side to the other, making introductions. “Gallow, Sonsee, this is Captain Catherine Thornlove. Catherine, this is Gallow,” he motioned. “And this is Sonsee.”
Captain Thornlove was silent for a moment, continuing to observe their mannerisms with a stony face. From this distance, they could see that she had a small scar that ran through one of her thick eyebrows. Finally, she finished her assessment.
“Those are pretty odd names,” she said, speaking more to Gideon. “You’re sure you trust these people?”
Gideon gave her a very small smile, an expression of confidence, and affirmed, “Trust me, these are good people.”
Gallow was a little taken aback, getting such a compliment so casually from him. Captain Thorlove took one last look at them before the clouds above her parted, and golden sunlight streamed down to bathe her in the uncanny glow.
“Alright,” her voice was strict and harsh, it reminded Gallow of how Gideon had instructed him in the military. “This is my ship, The Prayer. On this ship--”
She continued for close to ten odd minutes, listing off every single rule and practice she expected them to follow, including, but not limited to:
You are to address me as Captain Thornlove at all times, or be assigned double latrine duties
Clean your own mess or clean everyone’s mess
You’re expected to do your share of work, unless you’re dead
Be awake at least thirty minutes before your shift, or your shift is tripled
If you eat more than your share, you don’t eat for the next week
If I’m in my quarters, don’t disturb me, or you’ll be assigned extra swabbing shifts
Gallow’s eyes began to glaze over as she spoke, prompting her to snap her fingers in
front of his face.
“Hey?” she spat aggressively. “Are you paying attention?!”
Gallow blinked wildly, caught off-guard. “Yes, ma’am!”
Thornlove’s face twisted in disgust. “Ma’am?” The word dripped with poison.
Gallow suddenly remembered rule number one and abruptly covered up his mistake. “Yes, Captain Thornlove!”
Her expression relaxed somewhat, but her dark eyes retained their threatening intent. “That’s right, I’ll let you off this time, but you two should know you’re getting off pre-tty easy. Most of the crew on this trip is new, so you might want to get comfortable with them, while you’re here, at least.”
“New?” Gideon suddenly asked, breaking his silence. “I thought you didn’t let crew off after voyages?”
She peered at him with an altogether different look than what she’d given to the newcomers. Her eyes seemed farther away, thinking about something while she paused. “I didn’t,” she finally explained, and that was it.
The air was heavy for a second as they interpreted her words, until a new face strolled up to them. A blonde girl in a white sailor’s shirt with the standard navy blue trim that was cut to expose part of her midriff. Her skirt was cut shockingly high, revealing much of her toned legs and high white stockings. Around her neck was a diamond-shaped red ascot with an anchor crest similar to Thornlove’s. She was actually a few inches taller than the Captain, and she threw her arm around her, bright white teeth exposed in a wide grin.
Gallow gawked at the girl. “That’s a… very revealing outfit for the seas…” he thought to himself. Sonsee, who often felt that she herself dressed more scantily than many white women, was both put off by the outfit’s boldness and comforted by being the prude one for once.
The girl looked at them, her long lashes batting every time she blinked. “Are these our guests?”
Gallow and Sonsee both felt their hearts stop upon hearing the voice. They both thought the same thing in unison.
“Is that a… man…?”
Captain Thornlove tilted her head away and said more quietly, as if trying to speak in confidence.
“Yes, they’re friends of Gideon’s, they’re with us to New Hopeland.”
The girlish-looking sailor extended his hand to both Gallow and Sonsee, at which point they could clearly see his adam’s apple.
“Nice to meet you,” he said in a cheery voice, not entirely feminine nor masculine. “I’m Lyric.”
The befuddled travelers each shook his hand, after which he brought his arm back around Captain Thornlove in an affectionate manner.
“Cat, one of the new guys is having trouble with the lock system on the third storage,” he explained to her.
“Ech…” she groaned, leaning back into his arm and tilting her head in kind. “Is it his fault or the lock?”
“It looks like it’s the lock,” Lyric clarified for her. “I tried to get it to work the same way the fella who installed it said, but it just seems like something on the internals are stuck…”
“Alright,” her voice was a mix of apathy and annoyance. “I’ll see if I can work it like I did the other day…”
Once their little conversation was done, Thornlove gave them one last look and declared that she was going below-deck. “Say your goodbyes, we leave at 1300.”
With that, she was off, with Lyric soon bidding them goodbye to head into the main turret as well.
With wide eyes and uncertain hearts, Gallow and Sonsee shot Gideon a look of bewilderment. Reading their faces, he offered them some reassurance. “Okay, they’re a weird bunch, but don’t worry too much about it. They’ve gotten me out of some pretty sticky situations before, and they’re reliable people.” Seeing that they weren’t all too comforted, he decided that his words were useless, so he gave them fair warning. “Oh, and don’t break any of the rules, she’s very serious about them.”
“I could tell,” Gallow responded flatly.