The two hunters escorted them across the grand vestibule of Whitehall. Inside the large building of that facility, they swam up what was a plinth of stairs somehow built there. Then on the higher floor, they found an opening right above them. A circular shaft opening in the ceiling. The two hunters ascended to the ceiling, insisting that the others follow suit through that opening. One by one, the hunters ascended the cylindrical shaft alone. “I’ve never been inside Whitehall before, in all my years of hunting,” Watson said. “What is with this place,”
“The entire history of the Seven Oceans is recorded here at Whitehall,” the hunter explained. “Sculptures and mosaics across the halls and the stairs,”
“Is that what those steps are called? Stairs?” he insisted. “Who needs them?”
“Some prefer to walk, others prefer to swim,” the hunter explained. “To each their own.”
“To each their own indeed,” Watson insisted.
As they slowly ascended the shaft, and took in their surroundings, Watson watched the depictions on the inner frame of the cylinder throughout his ascent. Right behind him was Bergmann, followed by Allen and Jane, and the other hunter. Both hunters stood right in between them during their ascent. Watson finally reached the Console Room, and took in its large might and glory.
Watson arose from the shaft and into a large room, seemingly a sealed one too. All walls were tight, except for one that was almost transparent, acryllic, or made of glass. Watson stared at the ceiling, and it was pale. But wide and large. “What even is this room? I asked.
“Arguably the most important room in the Seven Oceans,” someone said. He stared outwards through the acryllic window, overlooking the entirety of the city. And when he turned, he revealed himself in full to the others.
Watson and the three hunters immediately unsheathed one of their two harpoons, rested one knee on the floor, and knelt. Right before the powerful, old individual. Pale-white hair, long beard, and the long robe. But most importantly, the longer harpoons that he wielded, were what gave away the Vicegerent’s might against all other hunters in all other brigades. Watson turned to look at Bergmann, Allen, whom had also kneeled before the Vicegerent. Only Jane stood still.
Watson quickly arose from his position and turned to Jane. “Don’t you know to kneel before him?” Watson asked. “Let me help you,”
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it, Commandant Watson,” he said.
“Forgive me Vicegerent but I’m not Commandant anymore,”
“Let it go, Watson,” the other hunter insisted.
Fine, he thought. He turned to assist Jane in kneeling right before him.
“No need to kneel, truthfully I’m not too fond of that practice,” the Vicegerent insisted. “It’s appreciated nonetheless.”
The hunters all arose from their knees and stared down at the Vicegerent, who then strode across the room to the table right in the middle of the Console Room. Through manipulating some buttons and mechanisms, a screen hovered right above them in the air and displayed some features. He took a closer look right at them. “Jane,” the Vicegerent said. “I have to admire your persistence. Nearly an entire century of trying to get the Vicegerency to grant an audience over this accursed expedition to the High Arctic. It has already become the stuff of legend,”
“Would you like to consider adding a mural onto Whitehall for the feat, Vicegerent?” Jane asked.
The Vicegerent giggled at the notion, almost squirming. “I actually believe we should, it’s quite the gesture,” the Vicegerent admitted. “But that discussion will have to wait another time. For now, the actual expedition needs to be discussed. Those two hunters over there, let me take a closer look at you,”
Bergmann and Allen arose and stood right where the Vicegerent wanted them. And he approached them slowly. And as he did, he stared down their garments, their skin, and all over them. “You clearly were at the Arctic, and came back from there,” the Vicegerent said. “Though I wonder how you got back home still alive,”
“It was an arduous journey, Vicegerent,” Bergmann said. “Admittedly, we did not even think we would make it back in one piece,”
“Yet you did,” the Vicegerent said. “I often wonder why nobody else did,”
“We don’t know either,” Allen said. “But we would like to help them if we can,”
“We already know that the two of you were alive over a century ago when that fateful expedition was dispatched. I should remind you, in case you forgot, and I know time makes us forget many things which is why we record history regardless, that the expedition was not actually sanctioned willingly by the Vicegerent before me. Franklin had to put up a fight to get that expedition in place, and the only reason why we took it was to try and claim new waters for Tridention, and to also get an interest in the High Arctic. Quite frankly, the Arctic is one of the most, if not the most, isolated waters in the Seven Oceans. I couldn’t allow anyone else to tap into them before we could.
But the expedition was originally deemed a failure because we never heard a thing about them for a long time. We assumed it had gone missing. We assumed everyone was dead. Do you know what that’s like, hunters? To not hear a single word from anyone about this expedition for nearly a century?”
“We do, Vicegerent,” Allen said. “But better late than never, right?”
“I suppose so,” the Vicegerent said. “Beforehand it was just Jane who wanted this relief expedition sent. At the time, I knew she wanted us to go searching for her selfish, glory-obsesed husband Commandant Franklin, who let the lure of glory and power get the absolute best of him. But why do you two want to go back to the waters from which you came from? That sheer cold, that brutal cold, just to try and get the same relief expedition?
If I were either of you, I’d be lucky I made it back alive and stay where I was.”
“Vicegerent, we have a theory about the ice in the High Arctic,” Bergmann said. “It might actually have preservative properties.”
“Precisely Vicegerent,” Allen said. “You see, we believed that we were dead at the High Arctic once we woke up and found out we had been gone for this long,” Allen said. “But truthfully, I don’t think we were dead at one point and then brought back to life.”
“Well of course you two didn’t, because nothing like that exists in this world, or the Waynian Faith,” the Vicegerent said. “Unless of course, I’m missing something,”
“The ice at the High Arctic preserved us this whole time, Vicegerent. Put us to sleep for this long.” Bergmann said. “It would explain why Allen and I have been able to come back, and the way we look right now. But that could also mean the entire brigade, if trapped in the ice as well, were also preserved as they were. And are now in an indefinite sleep waiting to be awakened.”
The Vicegerent pondered the claim and turned to face Bergmann and Allen again. “That would mean the hunters are not actually dead. Nor is their Commandant.”
“If we’re right, then no Vicegerent,” Allen said. “They would not actually be dead.”
The Vicegerent smiled, stared at the ground to ponder their words, and then looked right back at them. “That sounds ludicrous,” the Vicegerent insisted. “We are led to believe the expedition actually failed when it didn’t. And they could have potentially frozen themselves in the ice trying to claim it for us. For ourselves. Perhaps it might be worth it for them to stay there.”
“Do you know of any other city who has tried to claim the Northwest Passage? Or any passage to the Arctic Ocean rather?”
“I should be asking you two that question,” the Vicegerent said. “You two were my eyes and ears there for a while, What do you say?”
“Not yet, Vicegerent,” Bergmann said. “Even after a century,”
“Nobody has tried to vye for it, perhaps it isn’t worth it after all,” the Vicegerent said. “Franklin went on a fool’s errand, and it led to his death, presumably.
If this were over a century ago, we would have had high interest in the Arctic. But things change. And as of right now, I’m only interested in what interests we have near the Indian Ocean. Near our waters. Near here more or less. The Arctic is simply too cold, and too out there, for us to get involved. And after losing two of our most treasured Striders, I’m not so sure it would be worth recovering. What if we lose more lives only to gain a few back?”
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“Don’t you care about bringing the brigades back?” Bergmann asked.
“I do but the Arctic is a special case,” the Vicegerent said. “I know nothing about the cold up there. I wouldn’t even know how to endure it, or to survive it. I certainly can’t say that the two of you do. To go back to the High Arctic just to do this, without adequate preparation, would be a suicide mission. I can’t afford to risk sending an entire brigade right to their death to recover the lives of people who used to live centuries ago, and now might still be alive. Though the history they could tell us would be alluring.
So while I would hate to admit this, I would have to refuse to call for this expedition back to the High Arctic. I know the two of you have gone to great lengths to return from there back home, but I would rather protect you two and ensure you live out the rest of your lives comfortably. I would rather not have you two waste what opportunity was actually given to you. And Watson might have already told you this, but you two are very lucky to still be alive. The others should have gotten out on their own.”
“Vicegerent, please forgive me,” Watson said. “I know there are uncertainties invovled, I know there are grave risks and this might take some leaps of faith. I know you like to be calculated. I know you want to protect the people in the city. But the ones who went to the Northwest Passage are still your people? Do you want to live with the regret of not having saved them?”
“I want to do it right, and as of right now I don’t know how to do that,”
“We will volunteer to find out for you, Vicegerent,” Watson said. “Even I will lead it myself, if I have to.”
“You’re a retired Commandant, Watson. I know you crave for more service, but you’re old, malfeasant, and even stubborn. We’ve tolerated you for long enough.”
“Nobody else can do the job the way I can, Vicegerent. And I know you know this,” Watson said. “If you are so intent on isolating us from the Arctic, then you will shame their lives and the lives of other expeditions. Tridention already knows about the fabled Northwest expedition, the low morale will not make sure anyone else joins in the hunting brigades. Before long, we won’t even have the wherewithal to go after our own food. Are you okay with this?”
The Vicegerent turned to the Console Room and looked at Jane closely. “You really are dense, Vicegerent!” she said. “A hundred years of trying to convince you and still nothing! Have you no heart?!”
“Jane, I know your grief is immesurable, and you dedication is to be admired, but sometimes… sometimes we just have to learn to move on,” the Vicegerent insisted. “For life always goes on. I did not want to do this, but I have no choice.”
“You coward!”
“Hunters, escort Jane and the rest out of Whitehall. Watch out for Jane, especially,” the Vicegernt insisted. “If she tries to bring this expedition up again, bring her to me personally and I’ll make sure she is silenced. This is the final warning I will give on this matter.
As for the rest of you, be grateful you’re still alive and blessed while you can. Bergmann and Allen especially. There is no glory in frivolously wasting your life the way Franklin did. Because truth be told, nobody ends up caring anyways.”
Watson looked to the Vicegerent in stern. “Perhaps I do regret not retiring after all,” Watson admitted.
The two hunters stood between Bergmann, Allen, Jane, and Watson, then escorted them down the cylindrical shaft all the way to the stairs of Whitehall. Finally, they were left out of the building and into the open at the square. Outside at Tridention, life appeared to resume as normal. “I’m sorry, lads,” the hunter insisted.
“You did your job,” Watson noted. “But as for the Vicegerent,”
“He wants to keep it safe here first and foremost,” the hunter said. “What you’ve done for the expedition and Franklin is invaluable, no doubt. If it’s any consolation, at least the expedition now lives forever.”
“You can only tell him that when we find out he’s dead,” Jane insisted. “I tried to tell you all! Nobody believed me! Nobody!”
Watson’s heart broke watching Jane revolt against the hunters and the Vicegerent, albeit indirectly. With all that still in motion, Watson prepared to take the rest of them home. “Why don’t we just go home, lads. That’s the end of it here for now. I should find new garments for Bergmann and Allen as well.”
“There’s no need for that, Watson. Our garments will do just fine,” Bergmann said.
“They look like a mess, and people have already been eyeing the two of you. Even if you don’t notice it,” Watson said. “I should have some spares. Truth be told I should have already given some to you already. Come on, let’s go back home.”
Watson led them back to his home. And even on the way back, he knew they would have suffered a nearly immeasurable defeat. “I’m going to have to be honest with you lads,” Watson said. “I knew this was coming.”
“You put up quite the act there,” Allen insisted.
“I had to,” Watson said. “I promised I would try. I never guaranteed I would succeed.”
“We all do what we can with what we have,” Allen said.
“I can’t believe the Vicegerent will just leave us like this! And leave innocent hunters out there trapped in the ice with their lives on indefinite hold!”
“I don’t want to hear any of this right now,” Watson said. “Let’s just go ahead and head on home.”
Watson led the quartet back to his house to regroup. Dropping his harpoons, he rummaged through his belongings for the garments he wanted to find for Bergmann and Allen. Situated in the corner, he pulled them up and tossed them to them. They floated about in the open water. “Nobody will watch you change, rest assured,” Watson insisted. “But at the very least, look decent,”
“We owe you more than you realize, Commandant,” Allen insisted.
“I’m going to have to be honest with you, lads,” Watson said. “I knew this was coming.”
“I was actually surprised,” Bergmann said. “The Vicegerent has a duty to watch over his people, no matter where they are or who they are. But this, this was no ordinarily calculated risk. This was something much different.”
“The Vicegerent never wanted to set this expedition afoot,” Watson said. “I hate to agree with Jane, but I will have to on this one. She is right about the whole thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Vicegerent is avoiding the High Arctic after that particular expedition,” Watson said. “It’s like he wants absolutely nothing to do with it.”
“What a shame,” Allen said. “But it’s understandable. Things are bound to change even in the presence of those in power who do change. I should’ve seen it coming myself.”
“What you mean?”
“The Vicegerent we met just now,” Allen said. “Is not the same Vicegerent we knew when we set out for the Northwest Passage. So it makes sense that he has no beholding to that expedition. He might not even be making sense of this.”
“We explained this crystal clear to them!” Watson insisted. “Maybe the two of you should take his advice, settle down, retire, enjoy what years you have left of you. I don’t think there’s much of it left, to be quite honest. Nevertheless, I would exercise alot of caution.”
Jane lightly swam back to Bergmann and Allen, approaching them slowly and cradling their arms. “Tell me,” Jane insisted. “Do you think Franklin might still be alive out there?”
“I don’t know for sure, Jane,” Allen insisted. “Objectively speaking, there might be a possibility. But the circumstances would have to be aligned so well. It’s almost highly unlikely he made it out of there. Or maybe, he actually still is alive but simply can’t get out. There’s a chance other hunters might not have been as lucky either, and are simply trapped in the Arctic ice in and of itself.”
“Trapped under ice, eh?” Watson asked. “Why do you think that ice was the reason the two of you are still alive?”
“It kept us intact for this long,” Bergmann insisted. “Over a century of staying under the ice only to simply wake up? That has to mean something. We were also not that deeply buried in the ice with our own harpoons. For all we know, other hunters might simply be preserved in there, waiting for the ice to coincidentally thaw out so they can get out. But depending on how deep they were buried in there, they may never even get that chance.”
“Which would mean they are trapped forever, simply sleeping,” Allen said. “Treading on the thin line between life and death, never to move towards one way or the other.”
“All living things die, eventually,” Watson said. “And soon, the two of you will. Which is why you two should be very lucky. Maybe the Vicegerent was right.”
Allen stood and confronted Watson. “Former Commandant,” he specifically said. “Know that we are grateful. But even then, we too get to choose how to spend the rest of our lives. Or what we have left of them.”
“Then choose,” Watson said. “Choose what you must do.”
“There has to be another way to get that expedition set up,” Jane said. “If I still had the strength and the wit, I would even risk travelling to the High Arctic myself. Outside of Tridention’s watch, and their accord. Just to go there and find those two Striders. Find Franklin. Find my husband.”
Watson strode across his home in preponderance. “This leaves us with no choice then,” Watson said. “I think I might just regret admitting this.”
“What is it?” Bergmann said.
“The Vicegerent will never approve of an expedition to the High Arctic to find the Striders and the vessels. But before I make this guilty admission, I need to know with absolute certainty,” Franklin noted. “How confident are you two that the rest of that brigade, and Commandant Franklin, might actually still be alive?”
Bergmann and Allen gave eerie glances to one another before giving it some thought. “It’s relatively likely,” Bergmann said. “I wouldn’t say they’re all still alive, but the vast majority of them still might be.”
“Because if what the two of you are saying is true, then there might still be a chance,” Watson said. “If the Vicegerent will not approve of an expedition to the High Arctic, then we will have to set one up ourselves.”
“Ourselves? But how?”
“Undetected,” Watson said. “The Vicegerent will not know. Nobody in the city must know. Not even the stridewrights, the butchers, or any civilian. We simply get ourselves ready on our own, and then head out to the High Arctic without any help, to track the Striders and the brigade. As utterly foolish as this might sound.”
“You would this, Watson?” Jane asked.
“It’s the only way to truly confirm if they’re still alive or not,” Watson said. “And quite frankly, I’m sick and tired of patrolling the city. I have nothing better to do. So I might as well put this debate aside once and for all. And when I do, I hope Jane stops bickering about it and I can get back to everyday normal life.”
“You clearly never wanted to retire, Commandant Watson?” Allen insisted.
“Please stop calling me that,”
“Well, if I may be so frank,” Allen insisted. “If you will set up the expedition over there, then you will have to lead it. And who better to lead a hunting brigade on an expedition that a Commandant. May I dare say.”
Watson shrugged off the claims and readied his harpoons. “The two of you rest, eat well, and stay in my house at all times,” Watson insisted. “I’ll see what we can whip up. I don’t think enough people will want to do this. But even then, it will be us and only us. Do you understand how grave that situation is?”
“We do,” Bergmann said. “In all fairness, we’ve always known. We are hunters for a reason, Watson.”
“Fair enough,” Watson said. “But know this. I’d be grateful for what I have if I were you.”
Watson re-equipped himself with his harpoons and swam out of the house. Then he turned to the open streets. “Oh for Lord Wayne’s sake, where in the Waters did Pisces go to this time?” he asked himself before swimming out into the open water.
He disappeared to the northwest for a while.