The following morning, Manisha took her three guests back to her home, where she hosted them for a simple breakfast of flatbread eaten with a potato curry and fried eggs. Ilias was curious to reacquaint himself with his new relatives, especially his older sister.
“You’re… my sister?” Ilias tilted his head. “For real?”
“I know, it’s weird,” Anwen agreed. She had to admit that after seeing the boy again, the thought of them sharing a father in one way or another perplexed her. She probably should’ve been feeling ecstatic to have a family member to call her own, but it just wasn't that way. It was clear they would need a lot more time together to feel like siblings. “I hope it won’t be that way for long.”
I didn’t notice it earlier, she mused. But he really does look like Gareth. His nose, eye shape—they’re all his.
“You’re so quick to forget me.” Ivan frowned, comically upset that he was being left out.
“You’re cool too, Mister!” Ilias chuckled, turning to the man. “I think.”
“Y-You think? I’m the life of the party!” Ivan whined. “Tell him, guys!”
“He’s fun when he’s not complaining.” Anwen nodded.
“I agree.” Stefan nodded.
Ivan rested his face in his hands, defeated. But that was okay. He would have months to prove that he was just as interesting as Anwen and Stefan.
After breakfast was done, Ilias had offered to help Ivan and Anwen carry all five of their belongings to the trio’s car, meaning several trips had to be made. Manisha stayed behind to finish up cleaning the house, as she wanted it in pristine shape for when she returned. She had arranged for Gulshan to watch over it for the duration of her trip, but a little extra effort didn’t hurt.
As she finished scrubbing her steel sink, she noticed a figure lingering in the corner of her vision.
What’s that boy still doing around?
“Something the matter, honey?” she asked, throwing a worn-down sponge in a full binbag that she then tied off. “Anything you want?”
“Actually, Miss, I was curious if you had something.” he asked, his demeanour polite and humble.
“Sure thing.” She nodded, allowing the boy to make his inquiry. Owing to their height difference, she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye.
“After Gareth left, he must’ve left some of his things behind, didn’t he? Do you think I could… see them?”
A grin formed on the woman’s face.
“I was waiting for you to ask that.”
She led the boy to her bedroom, where a trunk revealed itself resting at the foot of her bed. She unclasped the buckles that kept it locked. At first glance, it appeared as though it only contained neatly arranged items such as jewellery, brushes, and hairpins. Feminine items that Gareth would’ve never thought to use in a million years. But then Manisha pulled at the inner edges of the trunk, removing what was revealed to have been a tray compartment, and unveiling everything below.
The trunk was lined nearly to the top with Titanian paraphernalia. Pieces of disassembled armor, guns of varying sizes, daggers, sword, a nonfunctioning communicator, Titanian clothing and boots. Stefan was bewildered by it all as he rummaged through the trunk.
“It took me a real long time to pluck all that stuff out of the ocean,” Manisha mused to a boy who was too immersed in looking through her trunk to listen. “Took me all the time I knew him, and then some more. But that’s about everything that was in the Craft. Only thing left in the ocean is the darn thing itself.”
A long object with a cylindrical end caught his eye, its rubellite design impossible to miss. It was considerably flashier than anything else near it, even though everything in the trunk was in mint condition. Unsheathing it, Stefan understood it was a dagger. It had a gentle curve, and its hilt and grip were etched in inscriptions written in the Titanian script. He held its grip firmly in his hand. Almost instantly, purple particles started to float around his hand and the weapon. The object was teeming with Pool. More so than any relatively shabby Black Shield weapon he had ever laid his hands or eyes on.
“He told me that knife was special,” Manisha noted. “It’s as sharp and powerful as its user is, so he said. I’ve tried holding it in my hands many times and I’ve never seen that floaty effect around it.”
“What he meant was this knife can only be activated by someone with a very high amount of Reserve. Past some extreme threshold.” Stefan nodded, adding onto the woman’s uneducated point as he got a feel for the weapon. He began to play around with it, testing its weight in his grasp. He twirled and spun it around, the floating particles of Pool creating a trail of light that could only be described as graceful. Distracted by the effect, the knife fell out of the boy’s control. Before it pierced Manisha’s flawless wooden floor, it somehow floated right back into Stefan’s hand. He was stunned.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
It imprinted on me? Does it see me as its owner now? Can it recognise who its owner is?
“What a thing of beauty, ain’t it?” Manisha giggled. “You can keep it, by the way.”
“R-Really?” Stefan’s pupil’s widened. “You’ll let me have it?”
“It ain't much use for chopping vegetables, is it? It’s all yours, honey.”
Stefan grinned like a child out of gratitude.
“Thank you, Miss. You’re very kind.”
Jay said we couldn’t bring weapons to the Shimajima, that it was a peace mission. But I don’t know what I’ll run into out there. I need this. It’ll let me protect Anwen.
“Oh, now don’t Miss me!” Manisha shot at him in a teasingly audacious tone. “We’re family now. I’m your auntie, Stefan.”
--
Dozens of southerners, mostly young men, strolled up and down a wooden ramp placed against the Serenity’s Song’s port side. They hauled out rubbish and carried in replenishing supplies, such as canvas to cut into massive sails, barrels filled with food and water, and a material called oakum to preserve the wooden structure of the grand ship. The little boats that lined Marius’ lake shore paled in comparison to this vessel. It was like a base that floated on water, unbound and was free to travel anywhere the Global Ocean reached, so it seemed. But first, the group of five would have to step onto the Serenity’s Song.
Manisha instructed her guests and son to wait at the boardwalk while she approached the ramp. She waited for an emptyhanded sailor to walk by, and one came before her.
“’Scuse me there, might I ask you a favor?” she asked the young sailor.
“Umm… sure? Although… I don’t think we know each other.”
These swabs are out at sea so much they forget how to speak normally.
“I’d like to talk with Captain Rohan.” she said with an exaggerated grin.
The sailor’s face suddenly appeared scrutinising.
“What business do you have with my Captain?” the sailor raised his eyebrow. “You can’t just come here the morning after we dock and try to see him. Who are you, lady? His sweetheart?”
Manisha’s friendly façade dipped some as she placed a tight hand on his shoulder.
“You tell him Manisha of Chitran is here to see him. Right now.”
The sailor’s pupils widened with astonishment as he heard the woman’s name come out of her mouth.
“You’re really her? Wait… am I really seeing the Manisha of Chitran before my very eyes? You know, I thought you’d be some old lady, but—
“You’re wasting the great Manisha’s time,” the woman groaned. “Go bring me the man.”
“Of-of course, ma’am!” the now starstruck young man said as he scurried up the ramp.
The woman turned with a frown on her face.
“They only wanna listen to ya when you’re someone worth mentioning.” she sighed.
Many seafarers knew of Manisha’s name and her skills, but few had seen her face. Because of how long she had been practicing the ways of the sea, since her childhood, many expected her to be older than she really was. In truth, she was only 32 years old, unassuming in appearance from any other young southerner woman.
A few minutes later, a southerner man whose chin was decorated with a goatee ambled down the ramp to the port, accompanied by the sailor Manisha had spoken with. A black-and-white kerchief obscured the top of his head. Although as a southerner man he was somewhat shorter than a typical northerner adult male, his short sleeved shirt revealed tanned, virile arms. His trousers were flowy and ended just below his knee, and he wore leather sandals like many southerners did. He looked to be about six or seven years older than Manisha.
It was easy to tell that the life drained from his eyes upon seeing the woman’s beaming face.
“So you really did come to see me,” the stern-faced man said. “Make it quick.”
“Heard you were looking for some extra hands,” Manisha voiced. “I think I can help you.”
“I am,” Rohan admitted. “So what’s the catch?”
“I can give you the opportunity of a lifetime.”
“Oh, not this again!” Rohan averted his gaze. “Every single seaman I’ve met praises you like no other, but they don’t know this part of you. They don’t know the trouble you bring.”
“You think I offer my expertise for free Rohan? For an impressive set of skills, you must expect to compensate with an impressive reward.”
“What reward could you possibly want? You’re already the greatest lady in this part of the south. You’re well-off for people like us. The only thing you ain’t check off your list is getting hit by a ualeskin drone!”
Rohan glanced at his right hand—the two rightmost digits having been long gone. He frowned.
“I am not talking about going into the exclusion zone again,” Manisha tried to make clear. “I am talking about something even bigger, even further than the furthest drop of water the exclusion zone could ever hold! I will be there to navigate you.”
“I don’t get what you mean.”
“What I’m saying is I can take you to the lands our ancestors talked about! The place they say has the most bountiful catch in the Global Ocean! And even if you don’t land any fish, you can become rich by selling your goods to the people who live there!”
“You’re… you’re kidding, right? The Shimajima?” Rohan muttered, dumbfounded. “The islands even the paleskins avoid?”
“Mhm.” Manisha nodded with confidence.
“I thought you were crazy before…” Rohan sighed. “But now I know you’re a lunatic. An absolute lunatic, you are! Do you know how long it would take just to get there? And the conditions just on the journey? That’s not to mention we don’t know what kind of folks the islanders are like. What you said ain’t hard… it’s downright impossible!”
“Impossible?” Manisha scoffed. “That what you think this is? Then let me show you my new pals. Impossible isn’t a word that exists to me. You three, get over here!”
Stefan, Anwen, and Ivan all glanced at one another before shuffling to Manisha’s side in an awkward fashion. Ilias stayed behind, opting to observe his mother’s try at convincing the ship captain from a slight distance.
“This fella here is a northerner. Bet you haven’t seen one of them in a while, haven’t ya?” she nudged Ivan forward a step with a push of the hand.
“You got your hands on a slave...? How on Terra—
“And this young man here is half-paleskin, half northerner,” she slapped her other hand softly on Stefan’s back, having a hard time reaching his shoulder. “My son’s got someone just like him now,”
Rohan’s face looked like its colour was draining, his pupils shrinking.
“Manisha, just what have you—
“Oh, and I think this lady’s the most interesting,” Manisha stepped away from the two men, standing behind Anwen who towered over by a couple inches. “She looks just like you and I, but she was raised way up north. And get this…”
Manisha stepped closer, her lips getting inches away from the bewildered captain’s ear.
“…she knows how to use paleskin technology. Like, pretty darn well,”
She stepped back just in front of the little crew she had joined.
“So does impossible seem like a thing to you now, Captain Rohan?”
The man’s eyes narrowed, his astonishment mixing with suspicion.