Man is water. The Earth is covered in water. It is only right then that to celebrate the life of a good man the body is returned to the water. Why then does water punish me by stinging my eyes and rush down my cheeks? Why does the water splash from my cheeks as I let out sobs? Both of those questions haunted my mind as I walked down the avenue to my empty home after my father’s funeral.

I lived at the edge of Port Ruál in those days, near the Lower Market, just next to Mad Eddie’s Maps. It was a dynamic area full of travelers from all over Imbrea, and as a boy I had loved living there. Even though my father had only died several days before, I already had plans to sell it off though. I had thought it would stifle the memories of the man, but- Well, nothing but time ever stifles grief.

“Chester! Chester!”

Turning at the call of my name from behind, I focused my gaze on a small, short haired girl chasing after me.  The heels of my boots clacked to a stop as I set my gaze upon the girl and the young lady trailing behind her. Steps behind the short-haired girl in clothes too fine for the area was her sister, Maggie, running with her perfectly styled skirts hiked up to keep them from getting caught up in her legs.

I debated moving on, just leaving them behind, but then remembered my father’s words.

“Courtesy costs nothing. Withholding it often costs everything, ultimately.”

Stupid old man, I thought bitterly, as I wiped my eyes, and turned my body completely to face them, stopping totally in the middle of the busy avenue.

The pair caught up with me, and I felt my mouth grow tight as Maggie and her attendant approached me. Her dress alone was as much as my modest house, and her hair’s do probably had taken enough in man hours to equal to a whole week of my wages back then. The only thing about her that wasn’t beautiful and perfect was a single scar across her neck, a scar she refused to let the Powder Woman hide every time she appeared in public. It was a kind of souvenir to her, and a reminder to all she met of her famous kidnapping from her father’s keep at the age of only six.

The pirates who’d stormed the town and kidnapped her had slashed her throat in front of Duke Gerrion, her father, and had only survived thanks to the court physician stepping in and using his unworldly power to will the blood and air into it’s proper place while my own father, then only a footman, charged the offending pirate and wrestled him to the ground. Neither the Duke nor his daughter had ever forgotten what had happened that day, and had tried to show their gratitude for years, despite my father’s attempts to simply retire to care for me.

It's their gratitude that killed him, I mentally snarled as I willed my face to keep from twisting into a hateful look.

Maggie’s injury had healed with the Court Physician’s aid, but not totally. Her voice never returned, the chords which made speech possible being too complex for even the famed Sir Bairn to heal. He’d almost resigned in shame from his position as Court Physician in shame that day but thought better of it only when urged to stay by Duke Gerrion himself.

It is for that reason Maggie needed her younger sister, Emily, a Tele-Mind like her elder sister, to speak in her stead. Maggie would project her thoughts to Emily, and Emily would speak them.

Be kind, I reminded myself, I’m not out of Port Ruál yet.

“What may I do for the Great Ladies of the Port?” I asked stiffly, willing my tears to stop rolling.

Maggie smiled at me softly and Emily spoke, “My sister didn’t get to speak with you at the ceremony. Nobody did. You didn’t attend the celebration our father put on in honor of yours. She wanted to be sure you were… Well.”

“Well?” I almost snarled at them, hate leaking through enough that both jumped back when I spoke. I hoarsly laughed, and turned away before calling, “Leave me alone. Just leave me. I’ve had enough of your family for one lifetime.”

I started walking, but Emily called, “Our father meant no harm! Please, come to the party so he may-“ I snapped, and turning on my heel I marched back to them with fury in my throat, thinking only, Port be damned! I’ll make them listen! I knew in my gut that even they, like everyone else I had ever come across, would respect my fury when I presented it. I’d always reasoned it was because I was such a naturally calm and collected person that people found it easy to listen to me when I snapped. It fit, and I knew no better then.

“Leave me be!” I bellowed, “I am no warrior, I am no great man! I am no one! Had your father listened to mine when he spoke those same words, then I’d still have family to go home to! Go before I truly fail to find patience!”

With that I turned again, and I kept walking. I just walked. I passed my house; I passed everywhere I knew until I came to the edge of the city and came to a pier at the edge of the city and sat on a pier looking out over the sea. Gently sloshing along, the sea was immune to my grief, and I was thankful for it. I didn’t need any more sympathy. I just needed to cry in peace.

I didn’t make it home until late that evening, but when I did there was another familiar face at my door. My house was two stories, situated between the house of a local map-maker, Crazy Eddie, and a blacksmith who made only horseshoes. I loved the tiled roof and cozy atmosphere of the place, and long had loved coming home. I knew that even if I had only stern and ambitious words to hear, my fathe would be there to give them in the evening between puffs of his pipe. At least, I had.

 One of the Duke’s favorite guards, Penteforth, stood outside my door resolutely. As I approached, he bowed and greeted, “Chester, I am pleased to see you have made it back safely. The duke is waiting for you in your parlor.”

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“Living room,” I corrected, rubbing my eyes tiredly, “regular people just have living rooms. Why is the duke here, Penteforth?”

The massive mustachioed man frowned at me, confused as he asked, “How could the Duke not come to visit the son of his daughter’s savior?”

Groaning, I asked, “Gods above, why couldn’t the Duke be born a colder, more ruthless man?”

Chester laughed, taking my question as a joke. It was not, and I entered my home muttering prayers to any deity in the mood to listen asking for patience.

The duke was, by all accounts, a handsome man. His red hair was trimmed and was a dark red atop his head. His long, soft-looking coat of suede-like material hung down to almost the floor, and the wide cuffs of yellow-gold material reflected all the wealth held here in the port. With his knickerbockers properly cut just below his knee caps and his long white socks more crisp than any commoner could hope to keep them, there was no question of his status as a noble.

“Duke Gerrion, “I greeted with a shallow bow, “what brings you here?”

The duke frowned at me, and he waved his hand upwards for me to rise from my bow as he said, “Chester, I’ve just come to see you. I- I heard of your short exchange with my daughters and thought I’d come in person. Maggie hasn’t stopped sobbing in her room since then, and I- I cannot bear to know two children are paying for my oversight in recent events. May we please sit and speak frankly?”

I nodded tiredly, the crying I’d done through the day taking its toll and sunk into a chair near my fireplace. The duke sat in the one across from me, the one my father used to prefer.

Don’t think on that now, I thought, just get this over with so you can go to bed.

“Chester, I know you think your father was some common man. I know he presented himself that way, but he was quite skilled for a man without a gift. He had a sharp, keen mind, and I relied on him for a great many things. You never saw much of that since he mostly kept you here among friendly merchants and tutors, but- He was a true friend,” Duke Gerrion said with a sigh, leaning his head on his hand as he spoke.

“My father was just a man,” I contested, “and you- You treated him like he was invincible! You sent him to the edge of the world to die by forgetting that!”

Duke Gerrion grimaced, nodded, and admitted, “Regarding my ignorance, you are correct, dear boy. Your father raised you as a man of the dirt and sea, so you would know one better than I who knows best only the gifted and those who are otherwise powerful. It is because of both of those facts that I recognize you for who and what you are while you do not yourself.”

Snorting, I couldn’t believe his implication.

“I’ve no gift,” I said, “as you said, I was raised by merchants, and I will grow to be a merchant. I have even a Badge of Great Promise from this port’s Master of Trade!”

I fished a silver medallion of a ship out from my shirt and showed it to the duke.

With a sigh, the duke says, “Have you ever actually met anyone else who has such a badge, Chester? Anyone?”

Thinking on it, I opened my mouth, but hinged it closed again when I could not find an answer.

“There is no such badge as what you have described. That was made by a gifted silversmith with my blessing at your father’s request and scheme. It serves a single purpose. One moment, please, and I will show you it’s true purpose.”

Standing, the Duke walked to the door, stuck his head out, and then pulled back in, Penteforth following.

“Take off that medallion and with as much fortitude of the mind as you can muster give him an order,” the duke said grimly, giving Penteforth an apologetic look as the man looked at his liege with a great many questions.

Wanting both men gone as quickly as possible, I pulled off the medallion, and looked at Penteforth. Considering myself, I ordered the man, “Dance.”

Penteforth frowned and didn’t move. I looked at the duke and shrugged.

“Guess whatever you thought would happen didn’t-““-Again with more feeling,” the Duke ordered, leaving no room in his tone for argument, adding, “with feeling this time. Push everything you have left in yourself into your order.”

My patience wore thin, and I said instead to both of them, “I don’t care for this anymore. Stop making a mockery of my father’s death and leave! Cast yourselves into the depths, for all I care!”

The duke’s eyes widened, and he took three steps forward with a surprised expression before stopping. Penteforth did not, instead he started walking out with a blank look on his face.

“My god,” The Duke breathed as he looked at me, “Chester, please, tell him to stop!”

Penteforth came within a single step of the door before the Duke begged, “Chester, please!”

“Stop,” I tried. Penteforth opened the door and I tried again with as much feeling as I had left in me, “Penteforth, stop and go back to your regular self!”

Penteforth seemed to snap out of his daze and looked around.

“Wha- How did I-? My liege, what is this?” Penteforth asked.

“Head outside, Penteforth,” Duke Gerrion commanded, “I will explain later.”

Nodding, Penteforth dutifully headed out with a troubled look on his face.

“Careful with that,” Duke Gerrion said, after the door closed as he sat back in his seat, “Penteforth hasn’t done anything to join your father so quickly. You need to be picky with your words.”

Rolling my eyes, I placed the medallion back around my neck and asked, “Why? Becasuse you had Penteforth play a prank on me?”

“What would I gain by doing something like that?” The duke queried, answering quickly, “Nothing. Chester, your voice is a gifted one. You can command those who are not as sound of heart as you are. Even that medallion cannot negate your abilities. Why else would a child such as you be so gifted as a merchant? Why else would you be able to silence my daughters, both more willful than even myself, with only a few choice words spoken in anger?”

I thought on that for a moment but found myself unconvinced.

“I was born with a silver tongue. Many merchants are,” I said with a shrug. The Duke sighed, and fell silent a moment. The wood in the fire popped and crackled to fill the seconds until at last the man spoke, “The seas to the East have long been uncharted because of their dangers. I sent your father, and he came back half-dead with tales of incredible monsters out of myth and history. Our people tamed Imbrea after settling here from that old place, wiping out all that was strange to us and making it more pleasant for our people. Legends say we came from the seas to the East and destroyed all records of the place so that the strange tides and uncharted waters would discourage us from venturing from these shores. Our ancestors thought only of survival but in this age where gifts of unexplainable power are becoming more common with each generation, I think it only right that we thrive. Part of that is making sure we are the masters of the world, rather than living in fear of it.”

Those words did resonate with me a bit, and I asked, “What does any of this have to do with me?”

“Your father made several notes in his dying days. He listed people from all over Imbrea, gifted people, who he thought would be useful for the next trip. He’d hoped to lead the journey himself, but as he cannot… I have decided I will in his place. My daughters will accompany me, and as I looked at the list, I found a whole page dedicated to you.”

Raising an eyebrow, I thought to my ever-busy father who rarely looked at me at all except in the evenings to lecture me on every way he could figure for me to advance myself.

“What could my father want with me? Even if I had some gift, I have no clue how to use it,” I pointed out to the duke.

The man waved my protest aside, answering, “Psh, that is easily fixed! He had a great number of ideas about what your gift could do, but above all what you could do given the opportunity to grow. He wanted to take you with him on this journey, to have your help in taming the strange old place across the great Eastern Ocean he found. Will you help me? Will you- Will you come see if you glimpse the man I knew your father to be?”

Heaving a sigh, I reclined my head back and thought.

“I would like some time,” I requested, “I’ll come to you in three days. Leave me until then.”

I felt myself grow slightly more haggard with my request, and the Duke looked at me surprised before letting out a small laugh.