After that day, Numisley woke up before Cultrost for the first time. He opened the steel-bound glass windows of their quarters to give way to the cold saline song of the ocean’s gentle breeze that seemed to make itself heard despite the distance between the castle and the shore. With drowsy eyes, Numisley laid eyes upon the gentle light of the sun emerging beneath the plane, slowly painting the sleepy indigo of the sky into the waking morning. The waking sun lit up the dark rumps of the islands above the clouds of the lower heavens that loom beyond anyone’s reach, with their buried gems and ores reflecting its glare back to those below.
This is the first time Numisley opened his eyes before the sun ascended. What a serene sight, he thought. Now he understands why Cultrost had trained his body to wake up as early as possible.
A span of several moments later, Cultrost had woken up. Before he would commit to his morning ritual of running many laps and training with his mace, Numisley urged him to come to the castle’s throne room. Cultrost, who quickly snapped awake, now noticed his brother’s unusual morning behavior and remembered that conversation from that night. Both brothers walked to the empty throne hall where Racieros now sits. Numisley hobbled in the front of the dais that held the throne, facing his brother.
“Kneel, please,” Numisley said with attempted majesty.
Cultrost followed for he heard of this moment in tales he read from their father’s study.
“I shall be a [Lord] soon. Sooner than I expected. Sooner than I would like. I shall become part of a family that I do not know. Yet they said that I had to abandon you in order to join them. But…”
Numisley did not know the exact lines to recite when knighting someone, much less the peculiarities of the tradition of this kingdom. One of the entries of the brown book says that the spirit of it matters, but another says that the tradition behind it matters more. Their written treasure is full of contradictions like this, and so Numisley is forced to read between the lines or bet on uncertainties to get the results he wanted. At this moment, the words he spoke came from what he thought sounded right.
“If we could not be brothers by name, let us still be brothers by bond, as we had always been. This bond shall be the basis of your knighthood. I shall make you my [Knight] who is only sworn to me. You shall be my confidant, and you shall be my protector. Most of all, you shall be still my brother for as long as I live. How about it?”
“I swear by our father and our bond that I shall serve you as both brother and [Knight] for all the days to come,” Cultrost said.
Numisley limped towards his brother and placed his hand on his shoulder and he pressed his weight on him. In place of a sword, he tried his best to tap both of his brother’s shoulders with his cane.
After Cultrost stood up, they laughed and sighed, hoping that this would work.
The day was spent dealing with the fallout of yesterday. Many of the visiting nobility and [Merchants] who wished to invest in the port had drafted up payment plans for the repair and improvement of Ovespuerte, and Racieros and his mother issued a public statement that asserted their authority over Ovespuerte and the rest of the county and the donations that the nobility will give. This news quickly spread not within Torregorn itself, but from the many [Merchants] who remained in the port and the many [Spies] who had integrated themselves within the port city. All ports in proximity to the Golden Triangle region possess some sort of information network used by [Merchants] and nobility to gain every advantage for trading within the region, and any piece of news will be known by the alliance of thalassocracies that serve as the gatekeepers of the region before Torregorn itself knows of it.
Johoon and Aryyad reported this news to their respective organizations using the best means of communication they had in hand. Their main advantage is the truth they have over Racieros, but the presence of his mother and the rest of the Torregornian nobility had prevented them from just barging in and demanding a more favorable portion of the investment plan proposed by Strraina. So they resorted to writing to Numisley and Cultrost by way of letter and asked them that Racieros shall reserve 10% of the share of Ovespuerte’s annual income in exchange for their contribution of a hundred gold per month, with their justification of their [Mercenaries] being a major contribution to the city.
Cultrost read the letter aloud to Racieros as he was busy writing the list of individuals who would be allowed to invest in Ovespuerte.
“That scum dares to profit from me? I would cut him from head to toe! If only I haven’t lost much of my family’s Household Guard.”
“So…” Cultrost tried to ask Racieros if he would agree with their demands.
“What do you think?” Racieros turned to Numisley.
“How about try lowering that to 7%. If I were you, I would say that…it would make their ‘involvement’ obvious.”
“Say that to them, then. I do not feel like getting threatened and reminded of my father’s death.”
Numisley saw an opportunity to deliver the news.
“That shall be my last duty to you then. I shall take my leave and accompany my…uncle to his estate so that I can officially be a Naveirei.”
Racieros stopped writing.
“That’s great. Congratulations…”
Yet the young [Lord] felt like all that he worked hard for would disappear if Numisley disappeared.
“You sound disappointed.”
“No. It’s just…I’ve been relying on Cultrost and you for so long. So I’m not sure if I could stand on my own.”
“You got your mother. But I will go alone. Cultrost shall stay here.”
“Here?” Cultrost asked.
“In the castle or in our building, as long as you keep watch over our company. You are a trader, just not with the Role. You have my full authority regardless.”
“I’m not…” Cultrost trailed off. “I’m no good with numbers and all that.”
“Your presence is important if we want our company to remain, and I do not know if you are allowed within the Naveirei estate. Let them know that you shall lead the company on my behalf. You already know the basics from our father, right? That should be enough. When I come back, I shall be a [Lord].”
Numisley and Cultrost later headed to the building they used as their headquarters.
He stared at the sign written in Common that said “Gildin Trading” above the metal awnings and entered the storefront of their company. This was the monument of what they achieved in this foreign land, and it was their company that enabled them to arrive at this point. Behind the grated window was a wooden placard that lists the goods that they sell and their prices. Woodwork, fish, fish sauce, hops, and a variety of other things that they are allowed to distribute and sell on behalf of Aryyad. Although he had been in this storefront a few days ago, amid the crisis he was involved in, for Numisley it felt like decades. Numisley stepped on specks of dust on the stone floor that one of the former [Slaves] in their employ did not sweep yet. His eyes swept around the shop where a variety of wooden stools, shoes, and sculptures were displayed. Numisley seldom sat on the counter where one of their workers now manned because of his higher duties.
“Boss.” The sweeper acknowledged.
“Anyone in the shop aside from you two?” Numisley asked.
“There’s Kenet.”
“Is he doing anything?”
“The boxes.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Tell him to call everyone who’s available.”
Almost all who came with Numisley and Cultrost had arrived at the shop. Those who could not come had committed themselves to either their duties to the company or simply could not be found for now. The shop is cramped with people surrounding Numisley and Cultrost.
“I gathered you all today to announce that I will be away to the city of Ascolitica. To prove that I’m a Naveirei, a noble House in this kingdom.”
Some of them audibly gasped, and some of their eyes widened. A few did not know what it means or did not care.
“So, my brother, Cultrost, shall be in charge of Gildin Trading until I come back, hopefully as a [Lord]. If I come back with that, we shall have a celebration then. For now, Cultrost shall be the one in charge while I’m away, as always. His words shall be my words, and his will is my will. So, take care, everyone.”
There were a few insignificant farewells and half-hearted goodbyes. Numisley headed to the room he once slept in whenever he stayed in this building and found Raudaeiz holding the brown book that Numisley asked him to keep.
“I was beginning to think you had run away with the book.”
“It’s not like I could use it anyway with the resources that I have. Which is now close to none because of the attack.” Raudaeiz did not m
“Tell me about it.”
Raudaeiz described the attack on the newly acquired hideout and the ambush done by the [Assassins] during the attack. He also stated why his gang dispersed and hid in many hideouts they had set up in advance because in the slums of Est Provés, there are many gangs who were in search of Raudaeiz and his gang, working with the [Mercenaries] of Johoon. He also told Numisley their first encounter with an unknown man who knocked at their hideout, who spooked them.
“You sure that they belonged to that Diamond Shore [Captain]?”
“I’m sure of it. I have seen their banner. I know their accents. They are [Marines] from home.”
Numisley almost forgot that Raudaeiz was from one of the cities near the proximity of the territories overseen by one of the five great corporations that dominated the continent. Cultrost barged into the room, and Numisley immediately told him what was going on.
“Cultrost. You shall maintain our professional relationships with Johoon and Aryyad until I tell you otherwise.”
“You’re dealin’ with him?” Raudaeiz was surprised.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“A lot of things happened,” Cultrost said.
“Before I forget, any word from that [Smuggler] you paid?”
“No.”
“Would we have to…no, they’re enemies of the Diamond Shore.” Numisley was thinking aloud about their deal with the Satyrs that healed Cultrost’s arm.
“Raudaeiz. Lay low for now until we come back.”
“No need to say it. They know my name. My real name.” Raudaeiz spoke as if he could feel himself being chased at this moment. “I should mention that I think the [Assassins] are another faction that knows of the book. They knew I have–had it, using a magic item.”
“The brown book?” Numisley said. “Who else knows of it? I know that there are people who know about the black one. But the brown book? All the reason to keep both with me.”
“Stay at the castle,” Cultrost said. “I’ll put a word with Racieros. Tell me how can I make contact with the rest of your gang.”
“Alright,” Raudaeiz said.
“Cultrost. Be the information trader on my behalf.”
“I’ll get the book o’ secrets then.”
Numisley and Cultrost made one last jaunt in the seaside markets, in the street along the docks facing the continent of Lemuria where locals call it the “Furrucc Row” because of its predominance of Beastkin [Merchants] in the area. In this rare, unhurried moment of peace, they absorbed the sights of Ovespuerte together one last time as they did in the Libertalian city-state of Baunt. Spices and herbs from the storied continents of Lemuria and the oddly named land of ‘Fallen Qinh’ freely mingled with the brine of the sea and the scent of seafood suppressed by magical folk charms suspended above the displayed bounty of the sea. Numisley picked dried fish to chew on for the duration of the trip and a small clay container of red chili paste tightly sealed with cloth for flavoring other meals.
To ensure Numisley’s safety on their journey and to wish good luck to Cultrost's full stewardship over their company, they asked people for a temple or altar to give the local gods an offering; specifically the smaller gods hidden within the outlying streets of the port, their worship and idols bought by foreign [Traders]. The two brothers did not like the creed that the Divine Decree preaches with its emphasis on caste and undertones of Human supremacy, and there are no gods of travel and trade within its main pantheon as far as they know.
They were pointed to a god of [Traders] everywhere, or so the stranger who told them claimed. An altar of clean stone is sequestered behind a small warehouse outside Furrucc Row. They saw a person placing a silver coin on the carved quartz hand on the altar, which fell to the pile of copper, silver, and even gold coins and various jewelry around it on the altar’s tray. Even though it is a tempting target for many a [Thief], most people know that to steal from the gods is to invite a fate worse than death; yet some fools will try regardless.
Numisley and Cultrost walked up to it and offered a silver coin each, and recited a prayer taught to them by the [Trader] who pointed them at the altar.
“Oh, the Hand who moves markets, with this holy fee I ask that you bless my brother with your guiding hand.”
“Oh, the Hand who moves markets, with this holy fee we ask that my brother shall be safe in his journey.” Cultrost followed suit.
Aryyad stumbled upon them after the brothers had said their humble prayers.
“Didn’t know you’re also followers of the Invisible Hand,” Aryyad remarked.
“Not really,” Cultrost spoke.
“Or not yet.” Numisley continued. “We give respect to whatever gods may answer our prayers.”
“We don’t really have a specific temple,” Cultrost said.
“Oh, so you two are one of those…” Aryyad said pointedly.
“Since you are here,” Numisley switched the topic. “I shall travel to Ascolitica for business. If you are in need of our services, Cultrost will be the charge of the company.”
Aryyad guessed that Numisley would be tested and investigated if he was a bastard son of the Naveirei, based on what Numisley said and the information he already had.
“I’m looking forward to further work with you.” Aryyad shook Cultrost’s hand.
Numisley made further preparations before he left Ovespuerte. It was already noon by the time he soon joined Escribanorr and his retinue on one of the towers of the castle. Five carpets were spread on the ground, and these were wider than Numisley assumed house carpets to be. The [Mage-Knights] that accompanied the Marquis were holding bulging leather backpacks that seemed to contain more than they appeared on the outside. They were tying their wrists on ropes attached to the front edges of the carpets, which made Numisley ask:
“Are we riding on those?” Numisley asked.
“Yes,” Escribannor answered. “This is my…our House’s heirloom. One of many, in fact. Have you never seen a flying carpet before?”
“I only heard about them in stories. My dad tells me that the beast-folk rides those.”
“Then you never saw the rest of the world then. Well, me too. Only a few can claim to do so. The farthest I’ve been is the edge of the largest empire in the world.”
Escribanorr gave Numisley a silver-colored ring. It seemed to have tiny gusts of wind swirling around it.
“What’s this?”
“Ring of Featherfall. Trophy-Grade. For when…just in case you fall off, I mean.”
“Fall off?” Numisley asked, now worried.
“That’s why we’ll tie the rope around you. And me of course. Standard procedure. Sadly the anchoring enchantment decayed after six…centuries.” Escribanorr reassured.
Numisley’s sole functioning leg buckled, but Cultrost caught him.
“My brother’s kinda afraid of heights.”
“Not to worry. It’s safe. No one had fallen off on my watch.” Escribanorr reassured both brothers.
Cultrost assisted in tying Numisley with the rope that wrapped around Escribanorr which is also attached to the wide carpet. The five carpets began the levitate as soon as its passengers sat on them.
Numisley and Cultrost said their goodbyes to each other. When Cultrost saw the carpets in a V-shaped formation disappearing into tiny dots, shrinking into the sky until even Cultrost’s keen vision could not perceive them. He was left standing in one of the castle’s towers, staring towards the north.