Viridos, Chapter 7

[E.T.]

Two of the birds would arrive at their destination, one with rather ruffled feathers but otherwise alright. They landed tiredly in their roost, patiently standing as the boy on guard there gently removed the leather bands from their legs. The message would be passed from hand to hand, from the falcons boy, to guard, to maid, to secretary, and finally to the mistress herself. Belphebe would examine the note for a long, long time. So Tattersal believed that he could exist by himself, tucked away from the world in this safe little cocoon of a jungle. A jungle that had been on the brink of killing its inhabitants since its formation. But no matter, he wished them gone then so be it. This nation was no longer suitable to hold all merchants that had congregated here, the move might be coming a little bit ahead schedule but that did not mean that it wouldn't be impossible.

"Send a note to Shekar and then to the rest of the merchants; it's time to move house." She said folding the note in her hands and directing her gaze to Ferret face who was standing in the at attention by the door. All it took was a nod and the wheels began to click and shift. Shekar would be the first alerted, followed by the bigger merchant houses, the news trickling down until all of Hosia was alive and swarming. What was left of Tattersal's navy looked on helplessly as wave upon wave of people and supplies overran the docks and spilled onto the boats. Warehouses that had long been locked threw open their doors and were soon nothing but hallow rafters. The great floating city tore itself from its swampy bed, shepherded by the cloud scrapping vessels of the merchants, smaller square sailed vessels tending the flock like attentive dogs.

The barricade was overrun like levy banks during a flood, even a boat or two from the navy disappeared into the swarm by the time the exodus had shrunk down to trickle. But for the two days that the deep bodied carrier ships of the merchants passed unendingly from the docks to the newly built land that only a selected few had seen, many doubted that the docks would ever be clear again. At times it was so congested that masses of smaller boats and houses would be lashed together with ropes and dragged behind some of the more mobile boats. And like that Hosia saw itself being pulled apart. What could float was dragged away, what wasn't nailed down was ferreted away into one of the many holds that left port with each passing minute.

Not all left, there were those who still felt some loyalty to their home, to Viridos. Those who refused to leave watched as in two short days the city turned hallow and barren. Very little would be left. Belphebe herself would be one of the last to leave. She told herself it was supervise, to make sure that not a single warehouse was left locked, to make sure that a few more coins passed to the right hands, and to be the sweet and supportive voice that would persuade many to leave their once homes. And yet-she herself had lived nowhere else, to leave would mean abandoning the city that she helped groom for so many years, the city that had shaped her and in turn had been shaped by her. Perhaps the was that twinge of nostalgia knowing that Hosia would not last long with Tattersal's return. He wished to rid himself of a plagued and so he would cull the city like diseased cattle. But then she would remember with a thrill that the combined merchants had birthed a new nation, one she had written their declaration for. It would be the beacon of the sea, nothing would pass under its gaze it would be, simply, Prosperous.

"Madam, we should depart shortly." The guard bowed curtly.

"So soon." Belphebe said her aux alighting to her shoulder in preparation. She caught herself gazing out of the window of her office, the room completely bare save for an old chair leaning against a far wall.

"I am afraid so my lady, Tattersal has been spotted only an hours ride from here." Was that trepidation that she heard in the guards voice?

"Very well, tell the Captain we sail immediately for Prosperous."

 

[Snowday]

Last Call
________________________________________________________

A "busy day" was a rare thing for Tem. So was a "lazy day." When you don't have a steady job, you can't really gauge your activity. But if Tem had ever seen busy days, this was surely it. It was as if someone had flipped a switch, and Hosia exhaled - expelling everyone and everything in its breast. On that first day, she'd done as she always did, claiming a street corner and throwing her flute song to the wind. But everyone passed in a strange hurry, shoving each other aside with bumpers of luggage. Neither her music nor her words of question were loud enough to be heard over the ruckus they made, purging themselves from Hosia overnight. At the height of this strange exodus, she'd come dangerously close to being trampled to death, but fate had been kind to her that day, and threw one leg under the surge instead of her entire body. By the second day, after the heart and soul had been torn out of Hosia, whatever force behind this turn of events decided it may as well dismember Hosia itself, as well. The parts of Hosia which floated were carted off on the tailcoats of ships. In yet another brush with danger, Tem had nearly been pulled off to sea with one of those platforms. Piece by piece, Hosia simply decayed.

Apparently, the dawn of day three marked the end of this climax. No one, Tem noticed, had bothered to throw her out of her terribly obvious sleeping spot. And no one was commenting on the weather over her crumpled form as if she were a crack in the pavement. There was simply no one. Cautiously, she crept into the sunlight, half expecting to be snatched up by whatever took the rest of the people of Hosia. The only sound was alarmed cry of the seagulls overhead, a sound which had never been so loud. Over the unending hum of citygoers, the seagulls were little more than background noise. Even the sun seemed to find its voice, ringing in Tem's ear. It made her wonder...

Tem went to her favorite corner. It was usually taken up by errant vendor, but there were no vendors. There was no one to stand in her way. It had taken her fifteen minutes to walk there, and yet she hadn't seen another soul. She was on main street now - she looked left, then right. No one to her left. No one to her right. If the silence meant the seagulls could find their voice, maybe Tem could, too. She lifted her reed flute to her lips and began to play. It was an upbeat tune, out of place in that ghost town, but the hollow shell of Hosia sang with the echoes of her song. The notes floated up and over the city, among the ranks of the seagulls that had inspired her. She could remember every time the passers-by she pleaded to had trampled her songs under their busy feet. She had never known how loud her little flute had really been - one could hear it from blocks and blocks away. Tem was alone. Tem was hungry. But for the time being, Tem was happy. ​

 

[unanun]

High in the Mother Tree

The higher they went, and the denser the foliage became. The Riven tree was more than just the largest organism in Viridos. It was intricately tied to the Cataclysm. Its roots went fathoms deep into the soil, and pulled out the poison that from the rotting bodies of the Old Gods. The black water crept up its veins and into its flowers. The pollen the mother tree released formed the basis of the killing clouds that obstructed Viridosian seafaring for hundreds of years. Where the tree was alive or dead was nearly impossible for non-kin to tell. Thick sections of deadwood were anchored in place by parasitic vines and moss, much like Kaustrian tower bloomed around the center pillar of concrete.

One such obstacle lay in their way now. A huge branch of the tree had died a long time ago. Yet, although it should have snapped a long time ago, the heartwood held strong, slowly being replaced by writhing, purple-green branches. They clung in a spiral to the path, and pulsed angrily with a regular heartbeat. The glistening surface promised poison and death. It was ...

"Hydraroot." Modakra held out his arm to stop Viktoriya. The librarian was used to hiking among bookshelves, not upwards on mossy tree. She had had her head dipped for the last part of the journey. Perhaps she would have become its next unfortunate victim.

The gardener flicked a shard of food into the hydraroot mass. It snapped angrily at the foreign object, dissolving it in a storm of whips and caustic secretion.

 

[Falcon]

Shekar - Hosia, saddlebrown

Rounku was the game of tacticians, a course of endless moves and possibilities provided one knew what they were doing and had the mental capacity to see the options. A five leveled tiered octagonal board on which anywhere between two and eight players controlled a set of twelve pieces each in the attempt to capture the crown, or topmost level.
The king, the queen, the priest, the general, the knight, the archer, the soldier, the healer, the thief, the scout, the merchant, and the page. Each piece had its unique advantages and disadvantage, each could move only in set patterns, and each could only advance to the next level under specific circumstances. The game was much like politics and most gave up before ever achieving victory.

Shekar was a grand master.
She had learned from the best.

Years ago, long before the great general had left the society of Viridos for reasons with specifics that were still unknown to her, when she had still been a young child Tattersal had taken her under his branches. She still had little to no idea exactly why. Perhaps he had taken some amusement from the attempt to mold the mind of a fellow soldier's only child.

He had left, and she had exceeded all expectations. Unfortunately she had also taken an entirely different career path than the one laid out for her by those with older and wiser minds.

Now she stood staring at her completely empty shop, Belphebe's letter open on the counter beside the board Shekar was setting up for one last game. It felt strange to look at all the bare shelves and empty corners, to know that her vault below was as empty as her home above. Every last bit that could not be sold had been moved to the hold of one of her vessels. Not Belphebe's, but her own. Shekar had made a point of that, a point of purchasing a boat and crew loyal to her. She had made a point of paying them generously as well. No offence meant to any of her partners, but Shekar trusted them about as well as . . . well, as well as they trusted her.

"We needed to leave five minutes ago," Nox grumbled as he floated about the ceiling.
Shekar barely spared a glance for her aux. "I know."
She raised a hand and added one last piece to the top level of the board, before collecting Belphebe's letter and turning for the door.

Behind her the board was set with four sets. One in green for Viridos, one in blue for Pegulis, one red for Kauster, and the forth gray for the nation just rising. Every merchant piece from the other three had been "captured" by the gray and placed a level above that of their respective sets, and at the very top the green set's general had been turned sideways at the feet of the gray page in surrender of the board.

"Symbolic," Nox muttered looking back at it.
"He always made me play the page." The comment was made offhandedly as Shekar passed a note and a small silver key to her lemur and sent it off searching for the general the game piece represented. She could not take the animal with her and the fact left a sort of small hole in her heart. He had been a good pet, a good companion, loyal which was more that she could say for most sentient beings she dealt with.

Nox floated back and around the game on the counter and then cursed. "It's all legal!" Shekar barely batted an eyebrow. "Every move I can see, every thing that would have had to happen to get there, it's all legit."

"Of course," she said simply. "It's no fun if a player cheats."
"A message?"
"For anyone who has the eye."

"He will be angry with you."
"I know."

For the first time in a very long time Shekar risked leaving a burned bridge behind her.​

 

[unanun]

[commissioned by @Pastor Choi]

"Hmm hmm hmm heh heh heh heh heh heh."

"Stop."

"Ho ho hoh!"

"You think this is funny?"

"Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha hah!"

"Laugh while you can."

"Tattersal, it seems even trees can have funny bones!" The giant pony was practically prancing up and down as they crossed the grasslands back to the verdant lush. "Did you see the whore's face, the shock, the betrayal, filling her wide open mouth?" The other unicorns brayed in the distance, even allowing some of the lost band to ride them in their mirth.

"They will be safer in Kaustir."

"..."

Silence, petulant silence and stoic silence. "That is far less amusing, and, come to think of it, far more like you."

"The grevious in Edelon won't be able to reach them."

They continued to stalk deeper and deeper into the jungle, closer and closer to their home. The band dismounted from their mounts, and they naturally spread out in the forest. The Viridos jungle bred a peculiar mixture of solidarity and solitude. Everyone had their own fight, their own poison to cleanse.

The Green General and the glamm'd Unicorn, however, stayed in lockstep. "Something wrong with your joints? Playing where you weren't supposed to?"

"There is a second grevious hiding in Hosia."

They walked past palms trees, walking trees, rubber trees, and giant redwoods. The sun had long faded under the pressure of the foliage before Tattersal spoke again. "What stirred you to become so forthcoming?"

"The first, I found. The second, I found too, but it was stolen by the merchants." Amaltas gnashed a fern. "Tried to pawn it off like some monkey's paw, some lucky idol. But when my kin ran through the streets of Hosia, they could feel it. It has been there for a while. Putting down roots. Drinking from the sea.

Awakening."

The thud of Tattersal's spear rang in silence for a hundred more steps. "If you want me to throw the merchants out from Hosia, just say so. Why do you have to lie about i-"

"I am not craven. If that was what I wanted, I would have said it. Besides ... " Amaltas followed the rainbow plumage of a bird-of-paradise as it winged its way across the leaves. "Hm. It seems some of the pets in Hosia have started their migration early."

Amaltas had departed to wherever he went when not trying to kill merchants. His unicorns followed, leaving Tattersal to look out on what was left of Hosia.

Hosia ... Hosia never would have existed without the merchants. Viridos was a riot of shamanism before the merchants. There were a thousand Prophets of Ilium who claimed to channel her. But the merchants came and put the coast to the fire and sword. The Easterners gave cause for unity between the scattered tribes. Their unification and Tattersal's election led to an eventual peace, and soon everyone forgot. Forgot, that the merchants had all come from Avarath, the glittering, independent city ... before the Czar came. First ejected from the Black City, then Avarath, and now Hosia, to perhaps finally make their home where they could be welcomed.

"Wake up, old friend." Tattersal patted the bark fondly. "It is time."

When he reached the thirtieth tree far from the coast, the first one began to stir. A century of drinking from the poisoned land had warped their form. Once, they were proud tree-kin. As they strode from the shade, out into the sunlight dancing across the Prosperos, their black and shriveled forms were highlighted, with their willowy, scraggly hands and bloated, buttressed feet.

Though worn, the elder mangroves placed their roots down in the deep harbor of Old Hosia. There they formed an imposing barrier against the Czar. Viridos did not need merchants or culture or fire or steel. It would exist without them. Already, mud flooded the empty foundations where warehouses sat, and creatures pranced about in tattered, colourful silks. In a hundred years, port would return to coast, and all traces of the merchants would fade away.

"Shekar." Tattersal twirled the Green General's piece in his fingers.

"The Prosperos will keep you safe. But be careful of what you fish up."

End of Chapter 7​