“Shipbuilding is an art form of its own. Each builder, each nation, each peoples have their own ways of crafting a vessel for war, transport, or other such purposes. For example, Traxian ships are hardy and larger than they need to be, each having enough room to host a small ground assault force. Veronan ships reflect their lizard-like origins, resilient, able to endure horrendous damage without sinking and continuing to fight. Arterian ships, to no one’s surprise, are built to be fast but with incredibly large cargo holds. Ship from the League depend on the city; New Berenian vessels are grand, almost too much so but remain highly desirable for nobles and aristocrats; Sturmbreaker’s are much like their namesake, fierce vessels to pummel through even the harshest of foes, making them fantastic blockade runners.”
- Quarrick Hood, Arterian Academy of Military Sciences, "Lecture: Introduction to Naval Warfare"
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The Audentes swayed just enough in the ocean that Mila had to run up to the deck again. Sophie moved to follow if only to make sure her friend didn’t accidentally fall overboard. Arriving on deck, the cause of the boat’s rocking became clearer. The skies were dim, storm clouds hanging heavy in the distance, directly in their path.
Sailors hurriedly prepared the ship for the oncoming weather. Arnold and his crew discussed something with the captain, the older gentleman wearing a hat that sported the insignia of the South Shore Company. Huh, it was so hectic yesterday I didn’t even notice. So it’s them again, that’s a little reassuring, at least.
“Foremast furled, just tie up those ones there!” Someone gruffly shouted from up high.
Sophie’s looked skyward and found more sailors busying themselves with the ship’s sails. The unfortunate realization slowly sank in. We’re not avoiding this storm, huh?
“Cap’n what about the back?” Another sailor asked.
“For this?” The captain yelled back, turning his attention away from Arnold. The old man scratched his beard, looking between the storm and the ship, “Furl it too, just to be safe!”
“Aye, cap! C’mon lads! You heard him!”
Wood groaned under the rapid movement of boots and feet. The crew hurriedly saw to their tasks. Another lurching of the ship caused uneasy creaks on the deck, the movement and sound combining to exacerbate Mila’s seasickness.
“Stars above, hang in there.” Sophie patted the inquisitor on the pat, her other hand ready to grab the girl’s collar if she leaned too far forward.
“Ain’t… a… blergh, gah, fuck. Not a child.” Mila half groaned, half scowled.
“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t die first.” Sophie tried to cheer her up.
“Glib… little… piss…” Mila tried to swear before whatever contents they had just eaten for breakfast was violently flung over the side of the ship.
Sophie leaned a little bit further away as Mila retched. Though she was supportive, the pleasant intentions did not make the experience any more palatable.
“Hang in there.”
Mila groaned and dry heaved over the edge, whatever had been inside was now no more. Sophie gently patted her back, trying to help ease the pain a little. Mila coughed a few more times, her throat racked with pain at trying to expel anything that might’ve been hidden inside.
“Oi, you two! Ye should be below decks!” The helmsman called out.
“We know!” Sophie shouted back, “Just give us a bit!”
The helmsman shook his head in dismay but pressed no further. His cry did seem to alert those near the helm, mainly Arnold’s company and the Captain, both of whom glanced over curiously at the duo. Meeting their questioning gaze, Sophie just held up a thumbs up in acknowledgement. The gesture placated their concern for now. Arnold however, gestured for a quick pause to the Captain, the man nodding. He then motioned for Sophie to wait.
As if I’m going anywhere, she almost scowled.
“Why are boats so shite…” Mila groaned beside her.
“Breathe, Mila, breathe, easy.”
“Easy… hah, easy for you to say.” Mila rasped.
Sophie winced as the formerly cooperative stormwinds now sent a waft of vomit into her nose. Her face crinkling up in displeasure, the scent alone pushing her closer to joining her comrade in collective suffering.
A shadow approached, the oncoming presence giving her just enough wherewithal to tear hearself away from the smell that irked her nostrils. Turning to face the figure, she felt an eerily familiar grip on her shoulder and tensed up. She had imagined this moment before, or at least a variation of it when she met Arnold’s company.
The living dead, however living, were vessels controlled by mana. No matter how life-like they behaved the fact that they were resurrected using sorcery didn’t change. Maybe that was why she had thought that they would be like the other mana reliant enemies she had fought. Crumbling upon contact with a void that tore hungrily at any source of mana.
What she didn’t count on was it happening in public. She panicked, the thoughts of the ancient mana bound soldier she drained the life out from the Myndiri ruin flickered past her mind. She remembered the horror of the moment, the way the man had casually accepted his death, but also of the pain and agony that seemed to course through every vein of his. She tried to scoot aside but it was too late, Sara’s hand had already firmly gripped her shoulder as the ship lurched against the waves. Horrified, Sophie barely turned, terrified at the result.
Only, the found the healer half smiling at her, the same calm expression that eerily rested on the faces of Arnold’s party. It told her that they were undead, that they were resurrected. Anna had watched them die, Sophie had seen their corpses. She knew they were brought back with magic, thus the mana touching the void should devour Sara. That is what logic dictated. Yet, she seemed completely fine, if perhaps annoyed at the swaying of the ship.
“Something the matter?” Sara smiled creepily, “Just give me a moment, I think I can help her weather this storm, at least. If you don’t mind.”
Sophie remained frozen, unsure how to process this new information. The Inquisitor meanwhile, shot to attention, pained but alert at the sudden intrusion. She looked even more worried than Sophie, though likely purely because an undead was offering to use magic on her more than it being immune to the mana drain.
Stranger still, the more she focused, the more she could distinguish Sara’s mana from the ambient signatures around them. The more she realized the undead’s resembled that of a humans albeit with enough differences to tell it apart. More importantly, that she couldn’t just passively extinguish the creature by mere touch or absorption. It led to an equally concerning answer in Sophie’s mind, that Sara was more human than undead.
“Hands… off…” Mila weakly growled.
Either a wave muffled her words or Sara just didn’t care. With an oddly sweet smile on her face, the former healer chanted a spell. Whatever protestations that could’ve come from either of them died on their lips. The faint yellowish white glow of divine magicks emanated from her hands, but a glow that now was interspersed by flecks of purple and black.
“Maddness…” Mila managed to hiss.
Sophie felt it. The shift in the air as mana was being drawn away, channelled into this spell at a far higher concentration than she would’ve expected given the healers minute movements. For a brief second it was almost suffocating, the emptiness outside reflecting the mana starved nature of her own soul.
“Her… here… sy….” Mila tried to protest but seemed to lose strength.
“What are you-” Sophie let out a half alarmed cry.
“Catch her.” Sara interrupted.
Confused, bewildered, but still functional, Sophie hurriedly obeyed as Mila’s body swayed with the ship for a moment before she fell backwards. Sophie barely having enough time to position herself to catch the girl’s fall. What the…? Her thoughts finally regaining some sense of coherency upon holding Mila up.
One thing at a time, one thing at a time. Sophie told herself.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Terrified, she looked over her friend. The exhausted Inquisitor’s chest slowly rising and falling despite the immense agony she had just endured. Huh? Curiosity overwhelming her disdain for the smell, she reached for her waterskin when she noticed another small flash of light behind her. She froze on instinct, the mana released by the spell blinding her.
Now there was almost no mana left around then. The last natural reserves having been recently depleted by the second spell.
“What the hells did you do?!” Sophie rounded on the healer, a threatening growl escaping from her throat.
Sara just smiled, the healer putting on an expression of pride. Her expression faltering only slightly upon comprehending Sophie’s confrontational glare.
“Ah, of course. You wouldn’t know. Tranquility and cleanse.” Sara casually explained.
“Huh?”
“Cleanse, the spell. Her body is now clean of stains and filth, the scent should dissipate soon enough now that the bile no longer touches her coat.” Sara ignored Sophie’s confusion.
Sara then waited. Her smile suggesting that Sophie put her to the test. Still wary, Sophie sniffed once. The scent she received making her crinkle her nose in disgust. But whether it was the ocean, the storm, or the magic, it was more bearable than before. Tch.
“Tranquility is what put her to sleep.” Sara announced, satisfied by Sophie’s abrupt test and lack of aggressive reactions.
“Put her to… you put her to sleep?!” Sophie let out an indignant cry.
“Indeed. The storm will be harsh, perhaps harsher than even the captain had expected.” The healer turned to draw their attention to the helm, “It would do her good to be at peace when it hits. Without the open air, she will feel nauseous if not worse when trapped belowdecks.” She stated.
“Wha-? That’s not the problem! She wasn’t prepared for it and-”
“It is a relatively challenging spell to cast though usually performed when under optimal conditions and with better preparations. As it stands, I believe that I will not be able to attend or support many other injuries for at least a day.” She pressed on.
‘Hey!”
“For now, she will likely be in a deep, pleasant sleep. One that will help her weather this storm.”
“Hey! Sara!”
“Oh? Yes? Was the explanation not sufficient?”
“I… what? No! I mean yes, that’s not the point!”
“But the spells were beneficial.”
“Y-yeah? But you just cast them without warning! At least not on us! Ask!”
Sara tilted her head, the undead but living healer wearing a slight grin with a twinkle in her eye. A look that Sophie could only guess was bemusement. She can’t just be undead, but she’s too stiff and forced to be just Sara, at least, not the one I remember. Just what the hells is she?
“Etiquette would ask that, yes. But she would refuse on account of who I am.”
“That’s… true… still.” Sophie grumbled. At least she knows that she is different.
She turned to look at Mila, the girl now softly snoring away. I suppose it’s better than keeping her below decks in the middle of the storm. But… she sighed.
“Look, just… be more mindful.” Sophie answered the healer, a hint of defeat echoing in her own voice.
“Of course. My apologies.” Sara bobbed her head.
Unnerved, calmed, and confused in equal measure, Sophie turned her attention to the one thing she did still have some semblance of control over. Shifting to better carry Mila, she pushed the girl off her and draped an arm around her shoulder.
“Oi, you did this. At least help me bring her below decks.” Sophie scowled.
She couldn’t read what Sara’s face was trying to tell her, but she did notice the faintest grin. It brought her a small sliver of joy in knowing that she made the healer smile. It made her question what exactly she was even more by how expressive she was being.
“Of course. Here.” Sara half grunted, lifting up Mila’s other side with ease.
Just what the hells are we walking into in Gratia? Sara and the others… they’re clearly not normal. And there could be more? Goddess guide us.
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For the first time in a while, Sophie was reminded of what true helplessness felt like. The ship rocked from side to side as something clatterd to the ground in the a nearby room. Massive booms echoed from outside while heavy winds buffetted them. The flashes of thunder so blinding that they could sneak through the smallest of openings to remind those inside that they were stuck here. They were at the mercy of the waves.
Sophie fought to hold her own stomach in check, the shaking now getting to a point where even she started to feel queasy. Out in the hall, Elaria had planted her foot on a bench and strummed out a small ballard to keep morale up. Raylani remaining ever vigilant, the dark elf blending into a small nook at the end of the hall, only her unusual eyes giving any indication on who she was observing. Beside her, Lucinia tended to Mila, making sure the girl didn’t just roll off her bed. Though Sophie could tell by how the imperial gripped the edge of the bed that the storm was doing her nerves no favors.
“Keep those portholes sealed! Tanis, check downstairs.”
“Aye, aye.”
A few voices called out followed by the hasty stomping of boots moving around the ship. Another flash of light snuck its tendrils through the gaps that covered the porthole windows, Lucinia jumping a little. The crack of thunder that followed made her yelp out loud. The fear then gave way to embarrassment as she met Sophie’s gaze.
“W-what?” Lucinia scowled, “Got a problem?”
Sophie shook her head, “Just making sure you’re alright.”
“Well, I’m fine, thanks for checking.” Lucinia growled.
Sophie almost snickered but restrained herself. Despite the hostility that Lucinia was trying to project, Sophie could see her fidgeting even more after the recent bouts of thunder. She’s more nervous than she let on. On one hand, she wanted to offer some comfort, but on the other, she felt that she still didn’t know Lucinia well enough to offer that comfort. Besides, she doesn’t look like she particularly wants to get called out.
Heavy waves slammed against the ship once more, the blow sending the two of them almost tumbling off their feet.
“Ah! Fuck!” Lucinia squealed.
Sophie reacted on instinct and darted over to support the frightened girl. Lucinia flinched when they made contact, Sophie quickly steadying her before moving away.
“Thanks.” The Traxian muttered under her breath.
Sophie just grinned but said nothing. The two instead turning their attention to Mila. Despite what Sara had informed her, the Inquisitor’s gritted teeth and frown while sleeping looked less like tranquility and more like pain. Could it be…? She dashed the question aside when the girl writhed a little more.
Both of them scrambled over to take a better look, Sophie wearing a look of concern whilst Lucinia’s was more unreadable.
“Stars.” Sophie cursed, “She seems alright, at least.”
“Mhmm.” Lucinia half heartedly mumbled, the Traxian trying but failing to hide the anxious glances being thrown at the porthole.
Sophie furrowed her brows and placed her hand on the girl’s head. Nothing abnormal. No fever or anything, she really is just sleeping. But it doesn’t look entirely pleasant, yet judging by her current state of being and cleanliness, Cleanse and Tranquility do sound like the spells that Sara had cast.
From her fingertips however, she felt something strange. Like a disturbance hovering just around Mila. She couldn’t ascertain what it was but had her own suspicions. Curious, she leaned closer. For a brief moment, she felt it. A pulsating beat, the acrid scent of sulphur stinging her nose.Then her eyes opened and she was in the room, nary a second more than when she had first leaned down.
It’s like something’s trying to intrude. Could it be…? Her mind flashed back to the deck, when she had seen the specks of purplish taint within Sara’s divine light. Corruption? Her magic is tainted because what she is? Or is it tainted because of something else?
Sophie pulled away, Lucinia eyeing her warily, wondering just what was happening with the elf. Sensing the curiosity and indulging a little in her own, Sophie motioned to the sleeping girl and answered.
“I think the magic the healer used was tainted.” Sophie stated.
“Tainted?”
“This is the result of holy magic, but it felt as if there had been something else there. Almost unholy though I’m not willing to make that call just yet.” Sophie explained.
“Dammit. Does this mean neither of us can do anything about this?” Lucinia hissed.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe? That bitch did this then? Trapped her in a nightmare?”
“Maybe.” Sophie bit her lip, “But I think… I think it’s not intentional.”
“Think? Feels real intentional to me. Standing here, looking at her like this.”
Hearing this Sophie failed to suppress a small snigger. So she does care more than she let on, heh.
“What? Got a problem, elf?”
“No, no. I just think she meant well.”
Lucinia didn’t need to vocalize her disagreement with the sentiment, her arms merely crossed as she stared combatively at Sophie. It was a questioning gaze, one that prodded at Sophie’s resolve. I hope Sara meant well, she corrected her own thoughts.
“The spell, when she cast it, the light was divine in nature. It’s just…”
“Yes?”
“There was also an unsettling purple. Colder than the Goddess’s light, darker. It felt wrong, tainted.”
“The hells does that even mean? Though I’ll admit it doesn’t sound good.” Lucinia grunted.
Sophie leaned in once more, closing her eyes to try and better get a feel for what was happening to Mila. From her, she could feel the faintest strand of something. A wispy call. Drawn in, Sophie reached out and could feel it pulling at her, the mana crying out. Shit, shit!
Her body felt like, a warmth spreading from her fingertips and swirling throughout all of her. It was light, relaxing, and irresistible. Forcing her way out, she turned to Lucinia, using her last conscious moments to warn the girl.
“Sorry… responsibility… for you…” Sophie rasped, and then promptly fell asleep.