She had been awake for some time now, lying in bed staring out of her bedroom window into the darkness outside. In the distance, only the lanterns hung on the decks of a few aeroships gave any indication of life outside; at least from the view this particular window had. On those decks far in the distance, a few crewmen were finishing their night's work. All the while daydreaming what it would be like to be on that deck herself. Every action she took over the last few years brought her closer to that goal. She would have her chance today.
Around her, some courteous church bells sounded. Unlike the nightfall's harsh sirens, these were always pleasant to her ears. They signaled the brightset and the coming of the light of day. With it, the warmth provided by the everpresent orb in the sky. In the distance as the bells rang, the men in the distance on the decks of their ships sat down. Some of them extinguished their lanterns, making their activities invisible to her curious eyes. The radiant light of the town below her view began to bleed into total darkness, as early risers extinguished their lanterns as well.
A thought crossed her mind of closing her eyes to doze off, back to sleep. “A few more beads of sleep. Then I'll be good for today.” Her heavy eyelids got halfway down before being assaulted by the instantaneous sourcelight. She knew it was coming, as everyone else did. It never worked for her, there was no napping or snooze after brightset.
She sat off of the edge of her bed. It had always been high off the floor. Yet, since grade four she was able to jump up on it unassisted. Her sense of time was tied to her schooling, at least since she got an idea of what she wanted to do in life. Each grade was two short years, and she was leaving grade twelve this week. Here in the nation of Argentis, she was not old enough to legally drink, but old enough to fight a war.
“We have brightfeast on the table hun!” echoing up the stairs, her mother's distorted high-pitched voice. The house was hardwood wattle and daub. The only way to get a message across the house was to yell. “I'll be down mom, I'm getting dressed!” The young woman stressed through her floatcotton undershirt. Her uniform had many pieces, and the college expected a student don all of them. This was especially important today, as she would be speaking to one of the prodeans of admission. Getting accepted was not the difficult part, as military service for the colleges was compulsory. Permission to go on tour for someone just finishing grade 12 was rare.
She adjusted the uniform's belt and hat in the bedroom's poorly maintained standing mirror. The military's colors of blue and silver, with the occasional red and gold accents, were clear enough to tint the room from the window's sourcelight. In her arms was the overcoat which she opted out of putting on, for fear of the brightfeast staining it. “It'a get cold hun!” chirped from below the staircase. “Yes Mom, I'm coming down!”, the lass trotted down the staircase hugging the overcoat, ignoring the rails.
The young girl turned quickly, to see her mother calmly eating at their table. It was one large solid piece of redart wood, beautiful and still barked on the edges. The table was coated with a thick layer of preserving wax oil making it soft to the touch. They had it since before even her mother was born. It could easily seat twelve people and often did during communal meals at least twice a grad. Her mother was a bit of a socialite and had some kind of person in the house for the majority of the day. Though, her day had just begun.
She ran her fingers across the table as she always did before sitting down. Before her a plate of hot warbird egg and chipped meat, sourdough toast now lukewarm, fried green tomatoes, and a short glass of pomme juice. She started with the chipped meat and egg for energy. The pomme juice was a little suspicious, it might be starting to ferment.
Her mother across the table just sat with her chin resting on her hands. Clearly, she wanted to say something, but her daughter failed to address it. To be honest, she already knew what the problem was long before she came downstairs. “Today's the day isn't it?” her mother quipped with brackish disdain. “We've been over this mom, I don't really have a choice.” her wooden utensil clattered against the ceramic plate as she dropped it.
“You can serve your country without leaving the city. That was true for your father as well. I've heard stories from people around, it's dangerous out that way Temora. You don't have to go on tour just to prove yourself to those---” her mother had lost any sense of reasonability to her; as these conversations always devolved into. “Mom, if I'm going to be serving four years I don't want to stay in town. What would I even do, how would that help?” barely audible from her mouthful of chipped meat.
“I don't know if it would, but at least you would be safe. With those radicals at Fraction, the Opals, or forbid that you be captured by pirates; who knows what they would with a---”
“It isn't going to be like that.”
“How do you know hun? I've heard incredible stories from so many people and from the merchants... who come by the lumberyard. Every one of them has met up with pirates before. Ruthless savages the whole lot.”
“If they are alive enough to tell you stories, they can't be that ruthless. Besides, unlike them, I'll be on a warship with two dozen other soldiers, a couple of them lecturers; maybe even professors.”
Her mother gave up, as it was clear that her daughter was just as stubborn as her husband. “We haven't seen your father for 16 years hun. I'll be alone here without you.” The guilt-tripping began. “Mom, again I'm telling you it's not going to be like that. Tours for novices aren't permanent stations like Dad's. I'll be gone for maybe a grad or two, tops. Then, I'll visit for a few weeks. It isn't like I'll disappear for years.” she pleaded for her mom to understand the situation, but this had not worked for the last year.
“I still don't understand why you can't stay home.” her mother squeaked with her head looking at an empty umber plate. “Most soldiers don't. Even if I asked to stay here, they'd put me on a ship anyway and I'd be gone training somewhere for a year or more. At least this way I can come see you after a trip.” doing her darn best to spin this situation into a good thing for her mother's sake. “You are right about that. Amel's daughter is still at the Driften Base and it's been almost twelve grads.” She looked up at her daughter feigning a smile. Her mother knew that fake smile and chortled to herself just a little.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“You promise you'll visit?” with a tone vague with repercussions should she fail to keep that promise. “Of course mom.” Temora empathized in as calm a voice as she could muster. “Even if you have to leave the tour?” she looked her girl directly in the eyes, making the whole conversation more awkward to continue. Temora glanced to the side before returning her mother's eye contact. “If I left the tour, you'd still have to wait for them to take me back here. It's not like they will turn the whole aeroship around just because I want to go home. It's a military exercise not a scenic expedition.” her sternness keyed back to her father's military background, embodying him for a few seconds. She was her father's girl.
“It really can't be helped then.” her mother stood from the table with her plate approaching her daughter. She sat her plate upon Temora's own empty plate and put her hand on her daughter's shoulder to embrace the advantageous and inescapable position she had. Temora didn't show affection to her mother that way, and barely her father. It turned into a half-hearted attempt at a hug that her mother did not necessarily mind, but remained disappointing. Her mother had plenty of hugs, enough for the both of them.
As she began to turn away she leaned over to point at an oil spot on her undershirt and brushed off some crumbs from the fried tomatoes. Temora knew that brightfeast would do something to her uniform. Luckily, the overcoat buttoned fully from the front. A garment that was necessary in the cold sky, and with Argentis' unpredictable weather. “Thanks, mom.” She stood from the table and released the folded cloth from its place in the chair diagonal to her. “My pleasure, hun. Are you sure you don't need to bring anything else with you?”
“My instructor specifically told me not to bring any ‘personal effects’, and have no idea why. I guess I'll find that out today.” she said shrugging her way toward the front door of the house. “Take care hun, and please at least write.”, a final wave of concern radiated from her nearly glowing face. “I planned to Mom.” she smiled and laughed a bit, out of nervousness. “I do have to get going, they said ‘be there shortly after brightset’ so I'm probably already behind a few beads!”, she yelled around a conveniently closing door.
Temora was out on the street now, in uniform. In view were a few others just like her, on their way to the schools or the college, also in uniform. Their house was on the posh side of the city, close to many shops. She began her short walk down the side street to the main road. This street was made up of individually set stones in a dovetail shape creating a massive brickwork, as most of the streets in the city of Ushunfield were. These bricks were of multiple muted colors; greys, blue-greys, natural terracotta shades, whites, and blacks.
Ushunfield was built along a mountain side had many steep streets, but hers was not one of them. The stone that made up the street brickwork was sourced locally, and she remembered her late grandfather who worked on them. She was lucky to live on this particular street, in a single-family home. The street was not built for vehicles of any kind, but people still rode warbirds through it. Trees lined its center median spaced out a fair distance, stopping at the main road.
At that main road was a center courtyard, one of many in a city of millions. A few blocks down she could see her mother's lumberyard, and the merchants unloading there; as they had been all night. Her mother spent some time there each day, but her managers took care of most of the paperwork now that she wasn't as spritely. Her parents met at an early age when he needed her services to outfit the crew quarters after gaining rank. Her mom always told the story about “being weak around men in uniform”. Despite serving time in the military herself, she never left the skyland. Some of the arguments she had with her mother recently were fueled by a perceived hypocrisy.
Temora had the privilege of living very close to the college that she would be attending, due to the location of her parent's house. Demanding a house close to that building was almost a condition of their marriage. Her mother, in possession of all the wood needed for the house, sourced it for nothing. The Argentian military sent civil service to construct the building. They only ever paid the architect and landlord, both friends of her mother. The rather large house was practically a wedding gift.
The college was about six blocks from the courtyard, which did not mean much. The campus itself was so large that getting to the property was only half of the walk from her house. About half a redknot across the campus grounds, a full redknot from home. In total, about a ten-bead walk. The walk across the grounds was always pleasant. Its grass, trees, and garden were well-maintained and diverse. Seasonally there were flowers she had never seen before. Each semester was a visual treat. The groundskeepers were able to answer questions presented to them about any of them. Temora always liked flowering plants but never tended to them herself.
Across the paved grounds walkway was the collegiate hall. As close as she was, most of the area in front of the door was an intense blue blur. Uniformed students ran from class to class to meet their bell times at the other end of the campus. This was a feeling she knew all too well, as that ended for her just a few grads ago. She was glad to know she wouldn't have to put up with that for at least a few years while in service.
Temora approached the door, and the students broke their way around her. The three sets of double doors weren't enough, and passing through them was strife with accidental body checks from people moving too fast for their own good. Faces of wide-eyed hopefuls, and soul-sucked veteran academics occupied the same space. This was a place where social lives came to their final rest in the pursuit of merit and prestige.
She walked up the flight of stairs to the second level of the hall. Most of the students were coming from the ground floor which was sunken into the ground about half a story. Past a majority of the administrative offices, for student record keeping, standardized testing, and registration; was admissions. Temora peered around the door to the admissions office, propped open by a bin full of reams of blank paper. “Hello, I'm looking---”, the desk was an empty seat. She walked in, approached the desk, and looked around, seeing nobody.
Patiently she stood with posture in front of the desk. After a moment there was the sound of a stack of papers falling, followed by many unreasonable expletives. A short man in a poorly fitted and stained blue uniform exited a side office. Grasping firmly onto a pile of misstacked documents, he heavily stepped toward the desk. He tossed the papers onto the only square of empty space left on that desk, and briefly adjusted his posture and uniform.
“Who do you need to see Mame?” he stared up to her eyes as he sat squatly into his chair. “Prodean Falken sir.” Temora boasted assertively. “Mame. I will get ahold of him, can you take a seat next to the door, please? They'a call you when they're ready.” kind in voice, but visibly upset that he was required to stand up again. “What is your name mame?”
“Temora.” she stated firmly, still standing. “An' your family name mame?” he uttered downward toward the papers on his desk, which had the priority of his attention. “Fayn sir. Temora Fayn”, her gaze did not deviate from its position directly ahead, not once. The short admissions attendant finally glanced up from the desk briefly. “Fayn? You must be Keyt's daughter then ah'ght mame?” he smiled for the first time since she had seen him. “Correct sir.” still unwavering in her dedication to the forward stare.
“Please mame, take a seat. I'll do my best to see that Falken is here within the beat.”, he walked around the desk, motioning her to sit down. In his eyes was the intent to get her to relax, she picked this up instantly. Temora exhaled in full and came down from attention, which she did almost out of instinct. He then left the room pacing loudly down the hallway. Sans footsteps and chatter from outhall students, there was silence.