Chapter 42 - Council

“You’ll first need to be introduced to the Council before we do anything else. I’m sure news of your return has already been communicated to them, but let me check first.”

Leale closed his eyes and placed his fore finger against his temple. A few moments passed before he opened them and smiled.

“If you’re rested enough, they are all ready and waiting in the meeting area for us.” Leale said telepathically, before climbing up out of his sitting position.

“Is there anything I should be worried about?”

“They will probably only probe your aura to see if you are actually my son and then ask you a few questions.”

“Then alright.”

Leale led Arnest out of the cavern and back towards the center of Polaras. Along the way they passed through small rocky igloos, with hanging dried fish racks and a series of clay pots in front of each of them. The light from the crystalline ceiling was slowly dimming into a refracted dark blue. The crowd that had formed from before when they had first arrived, seemed to had all dispersed, possibly hiding out in these hobbles. After passing a few more rock houses, Arnest started to slowly realize something.

“Wait, where are we headed?”

“To the meeting area.” Leale answered, turning around at Arnest with a slightly confused face.

“Isn’t this in the direction of the Mama-”

But before Arnest could finish his thought, they had already arrived. This time however, there wasn’t only the one Mamalark that kept inwardly screaming about how hungry it was, but now dozens of these monstrosities were calmly wading in the water. Some of them were even twisting and turning, dipping in and out of the water like a herd of baby seals. Small little high pitched shrieks echoed in the cavern as they bounced into each other playfully. One Mamalark opened it’s mouth, revealing four figures sitting around in a circle. Leale quickly approached and climbed into it’s mouth without a moment’s thought while Arnest stood to the side, paralyzed.

“You can’t expect me to get inside another monster’s mouth again.” Arnest thought to himself.

“Arnele, come.” Leale beckoned from inside.

Arnest swallowed the lump of apprehension in his throat and tried to reassure himself. “If they’re sitting in there, it must be okay,” or so he thought.

As Arnest neared closer at his turtle’s pace, a masculine voice echoed inside his head. “Don’t be so worried, son of Leale! Lucy doesn’t eat little boys, only fat, juicy men!”

“How do you know he’s really his son?” another voice, this time definitely more feminine.

“He wouldn’t bring some other man’s son here. He’s not an idiot.” sounded out the same reassuring male voice.

“Leale has always made irrational decisions, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.”

“Shut up, Lyga. Don’t tell me you’re still jealous that Leale didn’t end up marrying your daughter?”

“I don’t really care about who he married, that was his choice. But it definitely proves he’s an idiot, or makes poor decisions at the very least.”

“Wedel, Lyga. Why don’t you have your lover’s quarrel at some other time?” a new voice sounded.

“Froli, mind your business why don’t you?” said the male and female voice at the same time.

“Let’s not fight everyone. Let’s wait and see Leale’s ‘son’ before we debate any further.” said a calmer voice.

“Thank you, Concilis Rihte.” Leale sent out, as Rihte nodded with a smile.

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By now, after all the bickering, Arnest finally mustered the courage to enter the ‘meeting area’. Although at the moment he was feeling not only some hostility from the Mamalark but also from the elderly woman who sat diametrically opposed to him. Next to her was a similarly aged man, frowning initially but upon seeing Arnest started to loosen a grin. The two men on the outer edges were comparatively much younger, however past the age of young adults. The one to the furthest left was casually smiling like one would when hosting a fanciful banquet while the other to the right wasn’t afraid to show his discontent like a spoiled teen forced to be here by his overbearing parents. Despite their differences, all of them wore seaweed strewn garments that sort of looked like textured green robes, which seemed to be the only thing that unified the Polaras Council.

“I have returned, Concillisi, with my son, Arnele.” Leale said, taking a seat within the circle.

He motioned towards Arnest with his hands and brought him center stage, in the middle of the five of them. Right when Arnest was surrounded, the Mamalark shut it’s mouth closed and it became pitch dark.

“Hmm, what do you think Rihte?” Froli’s voice sounded within their minds.

Rihte closed his eyes and concentrated both his hands around his temple. “His aura is very strong, which makes this difficult… but I’m fairly certain that I can sense Concilis Leale’s bloodline within him.”

“Ha, I told you Lyga! It really is my grandson!” Wedel started to tear slightly.

Lyga continued to squint at Arnest for a while before sighing. “You’re lucky to have a grandson with such a strong aura.”

“Of course he’d have a strong aura! He’s got mine and Leale’s bloodline flowing through him.”

“We should hurry and ask our questions. I can sense a large crowd forming outside, they must be very interested in Leale’s son.” urged Rihte.

“I’ve already asked a few questions, but I’d like to ask them again so that all of you can hear,” Leale said.

“What were you doing in the human world all this time?”

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“Did you hear?”

“What?”

“Captain Traid’s wife was killed a few days ago by some house thief.”

“Really? Is that why he hasn’t been around? I just thought he was too hungover from that one night.”

“Yeah. Apparently he came home drunk and found her stabbed to death.”

“Well shit, did they find the bastard who did it?”

“No, not yet.”

“I hope they catch the guy soon.”

Nearby the two Raloman’s, sat another who was pale as a ghost and had formed a void around him. Not a single person sat next to him and even the two Raloman’s sat on the edge of their seats, trying to create as much distance between them. The ghostly, plagued boy got up from his seat, leaving behind a half eaten loaf of bread.

“I don’t get why they let that deserter’s bastard into the Twelfth Army!” one of the Raloman’s shouted, so that everyone, especially the one leaving could hear.

“Idiot, don’t be so loud…” whispered the other.

“Why? He’s a disgrace to the Raloman name!”

“Captain Traid recently promoted him to Lieutenant…”

The Raloman immediately shut up, covering his hands over his mouth. Waiting until Lajos left the vicinity, he slowly parted his fingers and whispered, “Why would he make him a Lieutenant?”

“I don’t know, but remember, he was talking about it that night we went out for drinking. We all thought he was just joking but just last night it became official.”

“D-do you think he’ll take revenge on us?”

“Us? I’m not the idiot who was yelling insults.”

“Oh shit, what should I do? Help me out!” pleaded the Raloman, on his knees with his hands in a prayer position.

“Well, knowing him, he probably won’t do anything to you unless you attack him. But you probably should say sorry or something.”

“You’re right! I’ll go do that now!” the Raloman said, running in the same direction after Lajos.

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Arrows rained down like a torrential downpour, poking a million holes in the side of both sides ships. On one side waved crimson banners with the number “3” gilded and sewn into it. For the other, a pearl shell on a yellow background represented their smaller but more numerous ships. Only closer to the point of conflict did the ships ram into each other and then their occupants jumped out of the safety of cabins and hull, to charge each other’s decks with melee weapons. Neither side seemed to have an edge over the other in this long drawn out conflict but because there was no clear victor, neither side was willing to give up. Whether it be for honor or coin, neither side had a reason to leave the fight, because there was still a chance to preserve their interests.

On the furthest outskirts of the battle, on the seashell flags side, was a singular ship with various instruments on it’s lower deck. Wide leatherback drums with muscular men pounding rounded pointed sticks against them and golden bells that were more grandiose than a cathedral’s. were all sounding out as a backdrop to the mayhem.

“Ring twice and beat four times!” shouted one of the men on the upper deck.

Soon after, two rings of the bell and four beats were drummed out in quick succession.

“Now one ring then five beats!” shouted another and the players followed the instructions flawlessly.

One of the men walked up to a young, black haired man, who was peering through a long telescope that was directed towards the battle. “Zanako, our western ships are pushing through and will soon be able to flank...”

“...However, our eastern side is being… slightly, pushed back…” he added, inching backwards as if to avoid a verbal lashing.

Kamu frowned, then turned towards the drums and bells. “Ring the bell six times!”

The bell run six times, but Kamu continued to frown. “Don’t stop ringing! Ring it six times every few minutes!”

Once the bell’s ringing was heard by the front lines, the mercenaries ran below their decks in droves. Soon after, they pulled out barrels and tossed them overboard into the water or if they were next to a Raloman ship, they tossed the barrels onto the enemy’s decks. The barrels exploded when they hit the wood and liquid of some sort splattered and seeped into the wood. Initially they assumed this liquid was some sort of oil however the putrid stench of urine permeated the air.

“Did they just toss their piss buckets on us?!” screamed one Raloman, veins popping out of his head.

The Ralomans, in a fury, picked up javelins and started firing them down on the Zanabonians. Most of them ended up dying, mostly due to the fact that they no longer were protected within the confines of the deck but men being pierced by these five-feet javelins did not deter most. Anyone who was able to survive the initial volley, grabbed their bows and lit the ends of their arrows on fire.

They steadied themselves, waiting for the right moment, and on the sixth bell they loosed their flaming arrows. These fireballs screamed through the air and when their reached their marks, whether they be the water or on the boats, the entire horizon became ablaze.

Screams filled the air as men burned alive, jumping into the water seeking to douse the fire only to find themselves within another sea of flames. From afar, Kamu could see their skin turn black and their bodies crumple up like kindling. Even from so far away, even the death cries could be heard from Kamu’s ship, which caused the musicians to pause their ringing and drumming. They listened in horror, paralyzed in fear.

“Keep ringing!” Kamu shouted, snapping a few of them back into playing the bell.