The first to flee Ruhum by ship began to arrive in Waves, vessels pregnant with all their worldly possessions. Prescient and well-funded, these vessels arrived to fill the hotels and homes of the city to the shell.
Behind them, more plebian vessels rounded the Cape of Lost Hope with the first true refugees. Besieged by Spring storms around the cape, these kept the Waves navy busy with rescue and recovery.
In the city on the shell itself, there were squabbles over fishing rights between the nations; fights in the bar between Aure’s fishermen and the locals; protests outside the temple over the ill treatment of the Azure faithful in the north; and, of course, the never-ending line outside the Maiden’s door.
Publicly, the temple held its tongue. The Tempest would speak when she would speak, and no priestess relished the thought of gainsaying that power.
Besides, the priestesses faced a war of their own. The old spymaster had passed in his sleep on Spring 57. He had run Waves’ cloaks and daggers for forty years, and no sooner did he pass than his many lieutenants fell to squabbling.
Now temple priestesses ransacked his offices, searching for intelligence and preparing to present their case to the Tempest for why they should receive his power and responsibilities.
This was a matter of presentation, of course. The Tempest currently favored the academic approach, and that meant the appearance of data to fit the need. Some dug deep to justify their proposal; others ran fast and prayed the Tempest remained engrossed in pressing matters elsewhere. All readied themselves.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
In Waves, jewel of the one remaining Goddess, they worried little for evacuations and wars. Safe in the blanket of the Tempest, the temple geared for a pleasant little war of their own.
***
Esmerelda Azure-blessed had yet to even hear of the spymaster’s passing.
She sat – yet again – for songs and recitals of home and history. She knew every step and turned in her homework from last year’s pages. She feigned interest anyways; her latest teacher was too sweet to deserve Esmie’s real opinions.
After all, they were equally trapped here.
Two more songs, lunch, and then to the pilgrims.
“This one is a favorite of mine,” her teacher hummed for the girl. “You see, it’s a ballad of the Queen Mishkan and her one true love…”
“Oh, that sounds wonderful!” Esmie lied, her feet tucked under her on the soft carpet, “but will we have time for it? That’s a long one, isn’t it?”
“I don’t mind if we go a little over,” her teacher smiled.
“But I need to eat…”
“We can eat in here. Like a little camp out! Won’t that be fun?!”
Esmie wished she was like Ali, brilliant and brave and strong enough to tear through every barrier. Instead, she worried this new teacher would cry at a harsh word from the holy Maiden entrusted to her care.
The girl bit the inside of her cheek and nodded. “Yeah. Fun.”
“Wonderful! Let me let the others know.”
Her teacher slipped away to arrange their little lunch, and Esmie sank back onto the carpet to stare at the mural of the beautiful Maiden on her ceiling.
Queen Mishkan and her one true love. Again.
Her dreams, at least, flew free.
“I hope Dancer’s doing okay…”