The Darkness of Dawn

by Braden Michael

  “Don’t bring it up,” Black Eyes said seriously.

  “That’s not what—”

  “What you meant to do? Why else would you start telling me about it?”

  The Captain struggled to find the words to a response. He stood in silence for a few moments before speaking again. “Best of luck at the armistice. I will leave you to it.”

  After a few minutes, Black Eyes decided he had enough of the view and made the irritating trek back to the stairs at the ship’s center. He quickly hobbled down the steps and reached the third floor. The landing on the stairs had walls and a gate inside that prevented anyone not deserving of the floor to peer inside, which was one of the Firestorm’s few design features that Black Eyes appreciated. Occasionally the sounds of sailors or soldiers could be faintly heard as they traversed the stairs, but not having to look at them made the voyage tolerable.

  “There you are,” the Emperor announced from across the hallway. He was wearing his traditional Emberland dark-red tunic, but his hair had been styled, and he appeared more pampered than usual.

  “Here I am,” Black Eyes said. The Emperor walked past him and said, “I noticed something you probably want to know.”

  The Emperor stopped walking and turned around, looking at Black Eyes. He looked at him expectantly. “Well?”

  “I saw only a small number of ships anchored at port. The rest of the Headland Navy is somewhere else, only the Stars know where,” said Black Eyes.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” The Emperor nodded politely then went towards the stairs and climbed up to the top deck. Multiple “your Majesty” proclamations echoed through the wood of the ship as others crossed paths with him.

  Black Eyes sighed and walked over to his quarters. He opened the simple and generic door to the room and casually strolled inside. The room had a feather bed, curtains that covered the open window, a luxurious mirror, a red rug, and his red and gray armor hung up on the rack in the corner. He glossed over the Emberland Flame on the breastplate when his mind was sucked in to his past, and he remembered the words: freak… freak… freak…

  Black Eyes slapped his face and shook his head violently, forcing the memory to go away. He pulled the breastplate from the rack and began to strap himself into the armor. Once the breastplate was snug, he fastened the gorget which attached itself to the collar of the breastplate. He then moved to the shoulder pieces, then the gauntlets. His hands fit into the steel-dressed gloves perfectly, and he made fists in them multiple times to make sure they were still in top working condition. Lastly, he secured the leg pieces. This armor won’t save me if this armistice goes to shit, he thought. Nevertheless, he wore it.

  After an hour or so had passed, Black Eyes felt the ship start to slow down. That was his cue to rush out of his room, climb the stairs to the deck, and regroup with the Emperor at the bow. The city of Kaiyotan was now much larger, and Black Eyes could make out more details of the city buildings: the bases and foundations were like any other, but the roofs were almost as large as the rest of the buildings they were a part of, and the eaves extended past the main walls. The Emperor seemed uninterested by the building architecture.

  “We will align the Firestorm with the primary docking pier while the rest of the fleet remains anchored deeper in the bay. They can row ashore to join us. Lower the portside ramp onto the pier and keep our archers, crossbowmen, and cannons at a non-threatening attention,” the Emperor said to the Captain.

  “It’ll be done, your Majesty.” Captain Halbert dashed past Black Eyes and shouted a storm of words at the sailors and soldiers atop the deck. His orders were echoed by men farther down until the shouts faded around the stairway. After less than a minute had passed, the starboard oars began to back their blades while the portside took normal strokes. The Firestorm gracefully glided towards the dock, and after a few minutes of configuring the position, the ship was in place by the docking pier.

  “Descend the ramp!”

  Dozens of sailors pulled on various ropes one hundred feet down from the bow end of the ship. The portside half of the massive wooden triangle that loomed above the deck disconnected from its starboard counterpart. The massive wooden bridge descended towards the Kaiyotan docking pier from the lever point at the portside edge of the deck. Black Eyes walked towards the descending bridge and peered out at the dock. There were hundreds of people forming a Headland greeting party, most of whom seemed to wear civilian clothing. He could make out roughly a dozen soldiers encased in dark blue and gray Headland armor.

  As the bridge finished descending, the Emperor, Black Eyes, a handful of well-dressed servants, and dozens of Emberland Guardsmen stood before it, ready to descend. Well over a hundred archers stood tall and proud overlooking the dock from the portside edge of the boat. The artillery crew stood by the nearby cannons. No one moved: they waited for the Emperor, who simply turned his gaze to Black Eyes.

  “I need you to remember something important.” The Emperor put his hand on Black Eyes’ shoulder. “Your role in this greeting is to be seen, not heard.”

  “Lemme guess, the sound of my voice is annoying and will start a war the moment the Headlanders hear it, but my handsome face will swoon them to our favor?”

  “More or less.” The Emperor cracked a smile.

  The Emperor looked to the bridge and began his strides. Hundreds of the men aboard shouted in unison, Emberlands! Emberlands! Emberlands! Black Eyes looked around, impressed by the thundering echoes the shouts had produced. Did I miss rehearsal? I don’t remember that part. The Emperor and Black Eyes walked side by side with a squad of drummers behind them, followed by columns of Emberland soldiers and various servants. The Headlander looked upon the incoming Emberland party with apparent admiration. As they descended farther down the bridge, Black Eyes studied every detail of the Headland group.

  The assumed leader had the traditional Headland look: skin tone somewhere between white and tan, with eyes that appeared slightly narrower than average. He was encased in the dark-blue armor of the Headlands, but his breastplate was embroidered with several small yet attention-grabbing sapphires across the outline of the Waterspear. Beside the leader were a dozen Headland soldiers wearing helms to disguise their faces, an elderly, dark-skinned man who sat by a harp, and multiple servants who wore generic blue tunics.

  The docking pier smelt of sea-water and was quite large, covering hundreds of square feet. It had been cleared of the maritime equipment to make room for the arrival of the Emberlanders, presumably.

  “Greetings, Emperor Harvey Miller!” The leader of the greeting party stood at the exact height as Black Eyes, and his voice sounded quite like Black Eyes’ minus the perceived blur between L’s and R’s that was characteristic of the average Headland accent.

  The dark-skinned harp player began to play a soothing melody on his instrument as the leader continued, “I am the Crown Prince, Hideki Yamamoto, son of King Hiroshi Yamamoto. On behalf of my father and the Yamamoto family, I bid you fair welcome to our lovely maritime city of Kaiyotan.” He glanced nervously at Black Eyes, but confidently switched his gaze back to the Emperor.

  “I am honored to be welcomed into the Yamamoto domain,” the Emperor stated as if his line were manufactured. “To be greeted by a man of your stature is humbling, and I do hope we will accomplish a great many things during the tenure of our cooperation.”

  He must have repeated that phrase to himself thousands of times before bed, Black Eyes thought. I want to vomit at how unnatural and rehearsed this all is.

  The Crown Prince smiled and bowed his head. “My royal father wishes to offer you the hospitality of Kaiyotan.” He turned his torso behind him and gestured towards the city. “Rooms from our finest inns will be offered to you, free of charge, and you may browse the markets and spectate our finest theatre performances or listen to our most talented singers. My father wants to see you treated with the respect you deserve.” The Crown Prince mustered another polite smile and listed his head down toward
s the Emperor.

  “I must say my thanks for your family’s generosity, your Grace. I will have my servants escort my belongings to this esteemed inn of yours.”

  “Of course, your Majesty.”

  Hideki snapped his fingers at his people while the Emperor gestured his hand at his: Headland and Emberland servants alike flowed throughout the dock carrying various items, going about to their proper destinations.

  The Emperor put his hand on Black Eyes’ shoulder and leaned in to whisper. “Mingle with the Headland soldiers. Have some drinks and find out what you can. Prod, eavesdrop, do what you have to do, and bring me something useful before nightfall.”

  Without speaking, Black Eyes nodded. The Emperor quickly walked over to the column of guardsmen and ordered several of them, by name, to accompany him. He walked over to a few others, but Black Eyes could not make out the words. Shortly thereafter, five Emberland soldiers sifted their way through the crowd to reach Black Eyes.

  “The Emperor has ordered us to accompany you and await further instructions!” one man informed.

  “State your names,” Black Eyes ordered.

  “Milton.”

  “Dirk.”

  “Nathan.”

  “Osmund.”

  “Troy.”

  The men could not have been older than Black Eyes. They were of varying heights and builds but were all clean-shaven with youthful faces. He remembered seeing some of them drinking back on the Firestorm. Troy was able to drink the most ale more quickly than rest, but the others nearly kept pace with him. Perfect choices, father, Black Eyes reflected.

  “Your assignment is to come with me to the town and outdrink the Headland men. Think you can handle that?” Black Eyes teased.

  The five men smiled and laughed, gleeful at the sound of this new assignment. I better not tell them I mean to gather information. They’re probably stupid enough to say that aloud once they get some ale in them.

  Black Eyes and the drinking enthusiasts walked over to four-man group of Headland soldiers farther up the dock. The Headlanders still wore their helms, their faces still hidden. They were quietly talking amongst themselves before Black Eyes’ group waddled over.

  “Howdy there, fellas.” Black Eyes waved his hand up in the air. The Headlanders turned their heads towards him. “It must be incredibly warm under those helms,” Black Eyes said, offering a devilish smirk.

  The Headlanders looked at one another, presumably, before removing their helms. They had the traditional Headlander look, but their hair and faces were drenched in sweat. They looked towards Black Eyes nervously. They know who I am, obviously.

  “No need to be shy, gentlemen.” Black Eyes pulled a handful of silver pieces out from his pocket and showed them to the Headlanders. “Just here to see who can drink the most. Care for a friendly wager?”

  The Headlanders looked at the coins and then back to each other. One of them pulled out five gold coins from his pocket and proceeded to flaunt them at Black Eyes’ group.

  “Only if you wager enough,” the Headlander teased. The rest of his group laughed tauntingly and smirked at Black Eyes’ group.

  Black Eyes turned to look at the five men behind him, who all nodded at him approvingly. He put the silver pieces back into his pocket and withdrew five golds. He pulled them out of his pocket and displayed them to the Headlanders. “Take us to the nearest tavern.”

  The Emberland group and the Headland group all howled with laughter. The Headlanders gestured the Emberlanders up towards the city, and they all began to head towards the city. Time to spill your secrets, Black Eyes thought.

  CH 14 – Vaishalla II

  Vai would lay awake every night trying to convince herself that it was all for the best: that her husband needed to die. His decisions would have led to her death and the ruin of the Rocklands. Strangely enough, she considered the once-foreign empire her home, by law of marriage if not by blood: it was her responsibility to look after the empire she was soon to inherit.

  Vai’s strategy for keeping the truth of her crimes from light was quite simple: she had asked the Robinsfort’s Chief Naturalist Giles, a withered old man, for a special capsule that would dissolve itself and the contents in any liquid. Peter often took supplements to increase his bedroom stamina. It never worked, Vai thought. Aside from the capsule, she had approached the lead chemist, a relatively young and wifeless man named Gerard, and requested a slow-acting poison on Peter’s behalf. “His Imperial Majesty wants to have options for the armistice, you see, and if Chairman Howell does not comply, our Emperor can use this substance to subtly take him out,” she told the chemist.

  Three weeks had passed since Peter’s departure, and the two men had remained silent thus far. The capsule seemed a trivial matter to Naturalist Giles, so he had no reason to discuss it, and Vai only had to touch Gerard softly on his cheek to earn his silence.

  Most of her duties as the administrator of the Robinsfort were simple matters of statecraft: appeasing this lord and that one, facilitating caravan and trade ship exchanges, or making proclamations in her husband’s name. Peter never took these matters seriously, preferring to spend his time drinking and passing out in the middle of intercourse with her. She knew she needed to hone her administrative prowess and prove to her underlings her competence. Should tragedy ever befall the Emperor, Lady Vai would make a worthy successor, she imagined them thinking.

  Several matters unattended by Peter had been resolved by Vai over the past three weeks. A garrison of 12,000 Rockmen had requested fresh reinforcements and supplies, needing 8,000 fresh troops and several more carriages of wheat and barley, which Vai had granted, facilitating the shipment herself. The two vassal lords Moreau and Lefevre squabbled over the castle of Stoneguard, which had no family to hold it after Howell had extinguished the Hatman line. Vai simply proclaimed it under the domain of the newly appointed Lord Murray, a young man whose title of lord had been bestowed upon him only a year prior. When Moreau and Lefevre protested, she offered them the chance to duel each other bare-handed, which they refused. For years, Peter had let dozens of such matters fester, and Vai had resolved them within three weeks. Her efficiency had not gone unnoticed.

  Vai sat in the council chamber. A brilliant amber necklace highlighted her graceful collarbone, and the light-tan silk dress she wore well complemented her skin tone. The walls were decorated with paintings of hillsides at dusk, the brown Rockland Mountain symbol, and tan curtains. The council’s table was brown, rectangular, six feet wide, and ten feet long.

  “Your effectiveness is to be admired, my Lady. You have truly gone above and beyond in your duties,” the Lord of War had complimented. The Lord of War was an older man named Archard. He stood several heads higher than Vai and had shoulders twice as broad as her own. He wore a dark-brown leather tunic with a subtle lining of tiny amber stones occupying the sleeves.

  “I appreciate your kind words, Lord Archard, but I’m simply doing what is required of me as the Lady of the Robinsfort,” Vai said modestly. The bar was set incredibly low, she thought but dared not speak.

  “You’re too humble, my fair Lady,” Magister Pyros said. He was not much older than Vai and had made himself famous in the Rocklands for his keen economic mind and humble beginnings. He had started off with an apple cart, and now owned dozens of ships and caravans that transported firedust, gold, and every gemstone conceivable. “Your husband never achieved this much during—” Pyros swallowed his words, a mildly fearful look on his face.

  “No need to be afraid, Magister,” Vai reassured him, lightly planting her hand on his arm. “He didn’t settle as many matters of statecraft as I have, it’s true, but the war takes precedent over the petty squabbles of vassals,” she humbly defended.

  “Your modesty is most impressive. And I must say you fit this role quite well.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say so,” said Vai.

  The conversation was interrupted by the council chamber’s doors being thrust open, and a cou
rier running inside. The boy could not have been older than twelve, wearing generic brown leather garb. He looked at Vai and the councilors with worry in his eyes.

  “I—I don’t mean t—to interrupt…” The boy ran to Vai with a scroll in his hand and handed it to her. “N—News from Gurasu.” He bowed then scurried out of the room.

  Did the poison work already? Vai hid her concern by coldly picking up the scroll and opening it. Archard and Pyros gazed at her in anticipation. She scanned the page quickly, and as her eyes went farther down the paper, her face grew long with concern. When finished, she set the scroll on the table and looked up at her councilors.

  “Peter has decided to dock the fleet at Gurasu, instead of Kaiyotan.”

  Archard and Pyros shared Vai’s concern upon hearing the words, and with good reason: Gurasu was located on the opposite end of the Headlands from Kaiyotan. The Rockland party would not be able to reach Furakuhold on land due to the massive mountain range that protected the Furakuhold from western approaches. The only conventional way to the Headland capital was from the docks at Kaiyotan, only a day’s ride away. Why is that idiot stopping at Gurasu?

  “Gurasu? There’s nothing there but brothels and taverns,” Pyros informed.

  “I’m sure his Imperial Majesty must have a good reason to—” Archard started, before being interrupted.

  “You may be excused, Lord Archard, Magister Pyros.” Vai stood up and walked towards the wall opposite the door and gazed at the paintings. The councilors appeared confused, but nonetheless stood up to exit the room. Before the door opened, Vai called out to them, “Would you please send in Adrian?”

  Before the door closed, Adrian walked into the council chamber. He wore dark brown and gray armor, and the Rockland Mountain was engraved on the upper-left portion of the breastplate. His hair was long and black, his eyes brown. Ever since the Rockland party had departed, Adrian was the new captain of the Robinsfort garrison. I can get used to looking at his face, Vai thought.