Chapter 1: The Prison

294 PEM

The sandstone towers of Sera Vimali took on a muted tone from the window, their color having seemingly faded with time. But to the north, on the right side of the window, a large prison stood like a black scar across the landscape, pushing all else out of its way, growing seemingly larger. It stood out more than anything else with its looming, unnaturally square shape.

Rosi knew the kinds of things that went on in that prison even if she hadn’t been there herself. Skeletons occasionally hung from ropes or pleaded in cages, their cries having gone unanswered long before they decayed to bones.

But while she painted the landscape before her, the one she had looked out on day after day, she found herself focusing more and more on the prison, placed front and center by the harbor as a warning to the pirates that terrorized the archipelago, especially between the Elgan Bay and the continent beyond.

Any minute now, she expected to see her parents’ ship pull into the dock, signaling their return home from an unending series of negotiations with the Republic.

She made a few more brushstrokes, then used a finer brush to paint her signature in the corner, marking the piece complete.

“Would you like some tea, Rosi?” Iria’s voice came from her doorway.

Rosi turned around with a smile. “Yes, please! But first— what do you think of my new painting?”

Iria approached the canvas, made a face, then glanced around the room at the walls covered in nearly identical paintings. “The… prison is much bigger in this one.”

“I thought I might make some new creative decisions with this one,” she replied. “There’s no reason I have to imitate reality.”

“I suppose not,” Iria replied with a smile. “I like it! I will be back with your tea soon.”

Iria found Rosi reading in the study, her nose deep in the same book about the War of the Coast that she had read so many times before. She had read every book in here that interested her, though.

She greatly admired Rosi’s hair, which looked (and acted) like water in every possible way, apart from the fact that it stayed attached to her head. Currently, she had it woven into an intricate braid, with a golden thread running through it to add some flair. It disappeared in a deluge around her middle back.

“Here is your tea. I need to go clean, your parents will be home soon.”

“Thank you, Iria,” Rosi said. She paused, placing the book facedown on her lap. “Do you think they’ll take me to the market today?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “You will have to ask them. I hope they do!”

Rosi glanced out the window of the study at her other favorite view, overlooking the yet-untamed rainforest outside the city limits, full of so much potential for adventure.

“I wish I could have gone with them on their trip to the Republic,” Rosi said. “I’ve heard it’s beautiful!”

“It… it is,” Iria replied. “I’m sure they’ll let you go with them soon, Rosi. You’re sixteen. I’m surprised they haven’t already started teaching you the family business, but I’m sure it will happen very soon.”

“I forget we’re the same age sometimes, Iria. You speak as though you were so much older!”

Iria smiled. “We can talk later. I need to go.”

“Of course, Iria. Let me know if you need help!”

She left without another word, leaving Rosi to return to the book in front of her. She knew some parts of it by memory, especially the parts that took place right outside of her bedroom window, in the port of Sera Vimali and the Elgan Bay. Hundreds of years ago, it said, the Empire of Man defeated the Vimali Empire right here, and built this city on the ruins of theirs as a final show of victory.

Heroes, legends, and unfathomable innovations in Art and technology had come out of that war, much of which people still worked to understand the implications of. Rosi wished she could be a part of it, and hoped that her music could one day inspire people like the great city of Perillim.

One thing that always confused her, though, was how exactly they managed to turn the tide on the Vimali. With such a strong grip on the undersea, how could humans have ever fought them back? Sure, the sayali helped, and the rise of Shipwood gave them a navy, but she felt like something was missing.

She took a sip of her tea, then turned to the next chapter, discussing how the War of the Coast inevitably led to the fall of the Empire and the collapse of its alliances.

But like everything else in this small study, she had read it all before. She closed the book, finished her tea, and left the study, turning left to go to the parlor where she could hear Iria humming to herself.

Iria busied herself with dusting, and the parlor was the busiest room in the whole tower-house. Artifacts, artworks, and souvenirs from the Casteyos’ many trips to the islands of the archipelago and the nations of the mainland cluttered every surface, and paintings from Rosi covered the walls. Seeing some of them, from as long as twelve years ago, always made her feel embarrassed, but her parents refused to take them down.

Rosi took another duster and started to work on the opposite side of the room. Moving every little trinket and decoration took a long time, but if she got lazy and went around it, she knew Iria would take the blame.

“How was your tea?” Iria asked idly.

“It was fine,” Rosi replied, shifting a Lagrasi dreamcatcher out of her way. “Thank you!”

“Of course.”

“Do you know when they’re getting back?” Rosi asked, now shifting to an ornate mirror hung on the wall.

“Within the hour, I believe. Though I can’t be too certain. Inaco said they have already sent word ahead, but they’re buying some things in town.”

“I can’t wait to hear about the trip!” Rosi squealed.

“Perillim is lovely,” Iria said idly.

“They built the whole thing from their imagination! Painted it into reality!”

“It’s a brilliant piece of art. Every little detail is striking. I would have loved to see it during its prime, though.”

They worked in silence for several minutes, at which point Rosi sat on the couch, ushering Iria to join her. Seeing her apprehension, she said, “Iria, you’ve done enough. If they say anything, I will tell them it’s my fault.”

Iria hesitated, then sat down, though she seemed ready to stand up again at any moment.

“Do you think they’ll let me go to the markets tonight? I want to get out of here. I want to go… anywhere, really.”

Iria shrugged. “You will have to ask them. But I’m sure they’ll take you tomorrow if not.”

“When was the last time you left the tower?” Rosi asked.

“Just a few days ago to buy food. Why?”

“I’m so bored,” Rosi replied. “I want to go somewhere. I want to see the world, see something new.” She paused, then smiled at Iria. “Tell me a story from your home. Something you remember. I want every detail!”

Iria looked away from Rosi, lost in thought. Finally, she smiled back at Rosi. “I remember when my mother took me to the market to try an orange for the first time. My father was away at work, and she had been saving up for weeks in secret to surprise me. She took me to the market, but refused to tell me why until we reached the fruit stand. Then she stopped and let me pick whatever I wanted, saying that she would get one too and we could try it together.

We ate them on the way home, and it was delicious! You get fruits like that all the time here, but where I lived it was rare and expensive. That is still one of my fondest memories with my mother.”

Rosi smiled again. “And what about your father? Did he get one?”

“He was… busy,” Iria replied, turning away from Rosi. “And we only had enough for two.”

The door swung open. Rosi turned excitedly, hoping to see her parents. Instead, she saw Inaco, one of their private guards— the one they left here to protect Iria and Rosi.

She always felt something off about the man. It had nothing to do with his ever-present smirk and sarcastic demeanor, nor the green mask he always wore to cover one eye. She just felt like he had something to hide, and her parents never believed her. He’d been with them her whole life, and had always been loyal.

“They’re on the way up, girls! Act like you belong!” He said with a laugh.

“Oh, please, Inaco,” Iria began. “When have we ever looked like we belong?”

Inaco pointed at her, that same annoying smirk crossing his face. “That’s the spirit! Nobody ever really belongs anywhere. But you have to do your best, at least.” He picked up a duster and tossed it in her direction. “Come on, you gotta look the part!”

Rosi just stared at him. Iria told her long ago not to let him get in her head, but she hated when he pointed all these mock-playful insults at Iria. She said nothing, though. Iria could handle herself.

“Shouldn’t you be doing the same, then, Inaco? Go stand around by the door and pretend like you have something to do.”

He laughed. “Fine, fine. It sounds like they’re here anyway.”

Rosi stood up, ready to greet them.

In they came. Elio, her father, came first. It seemed that he had grown a short beard during their time away, but kept it properly groomed. His short, dark brown hair seemed messy. Not surprising after such a long boat trip.

Then came Anonia. She wore her finest clothing, as usual, her red dress sparkling in the lantern light of the parlor. She smiled upon seeing Rosi, and began to reach for something in a large sack as Abrosio, their other personal guard, set the sack down next to her. Abrosio, unlike Inaco, wore armor, with ornate, square metal plating covering his body. Carvings across it made it lighter and gave him all manner of other benefits.

Rosi ran up to Elio, embracing him before he even noticed she was there.

“Hi, Rosi! I missed you so much!” Elio said, hugging her back. “We have so much to tell you about our trip. Perillim is everything they say it is! And the Republic is… well, it’s nice, too.”

“We brought you something, Rosi!” Anonia said, covering a large… something… with her hand. Rosi sidestepped over to her, gazing excitedly at the unknown gift. Anonia moved her hand aside, revealing a piece of knotted, gnarled wood. “They say this came from one of the oaks in the Republic. They cut it out of a log the silvans gave them, and we bought it before anyone else could. Here!” Anonia handed it to her.

Iria and Abrosio helped them bring everything inside, along with a few other servants, while Rosi examined the piece of wood. She wondered what kinds of stories the silvans would tell about something like this. Where did it come from, what did it mean for the tree, and… she had so many questions she wanted to ask, but her parents wouldn’t know the answers.

“What was your favorite part of Perillim?” Rosi asked, setting the knotted wood down on the nearest table.

“We can discuss it over dinner. We’re making something special tonight, a meal from the Republic!”

Rosi already knew it would be good. Cooking was her parents’ art, and they were experts of their craft. “Can we go to the market after? I want to go buy a few things.”

Anonia and Elio looked at each other, then back at Rosi. “Maybe tomorrow,” Elio said. “We’re both tired, Rosi. After dinner, we want to sleep.”

“Okay,” Rosi said, downtrodden. At least she had tomorrow to look forward to.

Next Chapter: Runaway