I twist and twirl my finger just above the surface of the tide pool and watch the water rise up slightly, flowing to and fro and following along with my movements. Being on the coast a bit aways from the castle in Haqiliqa is soothing, breathing in the crisp smell of the salty air as the towering Eternal Flame of Iaqa burns brightly far down the shoreline, watching over the island. There’s only so much I can handle of the constantly busy docks and the bustling crowds, not to mention the day-to-day operations of the castle. Here, I find much needed peace in the solitude, among nautical life like the minnows, tadpoles, and other creatures floating around carefree in the shallow waters. I imagine swimming among them, exploring the vastness of the sea and traveling to wherever we please. Tiny crabs with their dark red and greenish colored shells pop out to investigate the large human crouched down near their homes. But once they deem I’m not a threat, they carry about their activities, scurrying around the rocks and dried coral.
The evening sun ducks behind the horizon of the sea to the west where the continent resides beyond, indicating to me that it’s time to return home before my parents start to question where I am. I let out a small sigh, pick myself up off the rocky beach, and begin walking along the shore, carrying my sandals by my side.
At the edge of town, the light brown dirt road is lined with the small stone homes of fishermen and dockside workers. The saltwater air is still crisp as it breezes past my cheeks, and the briny finish revitalizes me each time I breathe it in. The noise of the merchants and fishmongers grows louder the further into town I go, trying to hustle one last sale before day’s end. I mostly ignore the shouts and enjoy my relative anonymity—my cape’s hood drapes around my face and obscures my distinguishing features that make it easy for most people to place me as the daughter of the Sanqo ruler, Siunqi, renowned captain that transported the heroes to the island to defeat the Timuaq. Or so goes the embellished legends people have been speaking since the end of the War of Liberation.
Observing the moss-covered stone walls as I walk toward them, the rigid architecture of the castle is discordant and antithetical to the rolling, curving, and colorful shorelines nearby, rich in deep greens of the conifer trees and deep blues of the sea. The guards, with their polished bronze helmets and armor glimmering in the evening light, instinctively look at me suspiciously. I adjust my hood to slightly reveal my scarred face, one of the distinct trademarks clearly identifying who I am. The men loosen the grips on their halberds and respectfully bow their heads as I walk past.
I find my family seated at the large wooden table at the center of the great hall. The chamber is decorated with numerous shields painted in an array of colors and symbols. Each one indicates a family or house who has pledged fealty to our family and swore to defend the island and Sanqo people. Most of the iconology involves a marine creature: An octopus, a swordfish, a whale, a shark, other various fish. Being a unified nation, despite the assortment of independently-minded factions, speaks to my father’s incredible diplomatic capabilities. In my mind and from what I’ve witnessed, it’s no easy feat to get epically stubborn people who have their own agendas to agree to work with you and adhere to your policies.
Seated at the head of the table is Siunqi, as expected, wearing a deep blue and bronze colored robe with our family’s sigil, the sea serpent, large and colored teal. It wraps around his body as if he’s being strangled by the monstrous beast. My father is adorned in bronze bracelets and necklaces, his strong, boxy jaw juts out as he looks upon the table, impatiently awaiting the feast. My mother, Cheqansiq, is perched beside him to his left, leaning over and speaking to him in hushed conversation that I can’t make out. Her bronze necklaces are embedded with turquoise stones and clink as she emphatically speaks to him, her light brown hair tied in a bun at the back of her head, and her long turquoise earrings bounce and shake each time she makes quick and abrupt hand gestures. Despite the intensity of her motions, her face is bright and beaming, and after a servant in a long, light brown skirt refills her chalice with the golden-hued chicha, her long and slender arm extends to nonchalantly grab the beverage without taking her eyes off of her husband.
Although I want to interrupt the one-way conversation to greet my parents, I decide instead to discreetly find a seat at the far and opposite end of the long table. While I wait for them to notice me, I swirl my right index finger in circles above my cup and spin the water around, gradually faster and faster, getting it to spin and create a whirlpool. I turn my attention to a window on the west wall that opens to the sea, and the setting sun paints the sky in a brilliance of purples, oranges, and reds. I imagine this is where the royalty of the mainland gets the inspiration for their faction’s colors, just how we draw inspiration from the oceans, but nothing manmade could ever capture the beauty the world creates effortlessly and flawlessly.
A servant snappily enters the dining chamber with a large wooden platter, jarring me awake from my daydream. Moving to my father, the servant lowers the platter, allowing the head servant to carefully and surgically transfer one item to the plate, the white and pink flesh of a bass fillet. It’s so freshly caught and prepared that I can smell the citrus and sea water from where I sit. My mother carries on with her discussion and speaks around the actions of the servant. I always have to stifle a chuckle when I see the intense concentration on the servant’s face, expressing such life-or-death seriousness.
As the accompanying foods are being dished out, my brother, Pahua, dramatically bursts into the chamber. He flings his teal and bronze cape, which flares and flows behind him, as he strides toward the table. Much like our father, he juts out his angular jaw and points his thick, wide nose in the air. He finds a chair next to me, scrapes it across the floor to make an ear-piercing screech, and drops into the seat, kicking his feet up onto the table and allowing particles of the sand caked beneath his sandals to trickle onto the surface.
“Are you going to do this every time, Pahua?” Cheqansiq asks exasperatedly, shaking her head and letting out a sigh.
“Oh, hello, mother!” Pahua remarks. “I’m doing well, thanks for asking!” He reaches for a handful of golden berries, pops one into his mouth, and swishes it around, eventually spitting a bit of the thick husk onto the floor. A nearby servant promptly sweeps it up with his hand and hurries off to dispose of it.
“I was told there is some exciting news,” Pahua says while chewing the fruit, the slushing sounds emphasizing the sibilants in his speech. “Something about a fleet I get to lead?”
“Are we going to discuss this at dinner?” Cheqansiq asks Siunqi, tilting her head slightly so that she forces her doe eyes upward to look at him.
“It’s not often Pahua is present,” Siunqi says with a bit of embellishment to his booming voice and casting his hand about as if presenting the room to her. It’s apparent where Pahua gets his knack for theatrics.
While making the gesture, Siunqi finally spots me and his eyes light up, correcting his posture to sit upright, and a hint of a smile comes across his face.
“Look at that!” he exclaims. “The whole family is here! Even greater!” After a pause, he eventually returns to the previous conversation. He takes a large swig of chicha and sets the chalice down with a mighty thump.
“Why, hello, Lady Sky Eyes,” Pahua says, feigning being pleasantly surprised while barely looking over his shoulder to address me directly. As if a large facial scar isn’t enough, my pale blue eyes are yet another aspect of which I can be isolated from everyone. I’ve received nearly constant mockery of my eyes, considering everyone in Sanqo—and all of Pachil, for that matter—have brown eyes. Taunts have always been about my mother sleeping with a sea nymph, or that I’ve got nothing but water inside my head where my brains should be, that sort of thing. Pahua only compounds upon the teasing, typically leading the charge, if anything. Ignoring this, Siunqi proceeds with the topic most pressing on his mind.
“We have been approached by a messenger for The Sovereign, Arbiter Achutli, about utilizing our fleet and declaring the Sanqo as a part of the royal navy. I am to meet one of the Arbiter’s advisors to discuss strategy.”
“Of course he wants our ships and sailors,” Pahua scoffs. “We’re the best in Pachil. Tell me you’re not seriously considering this, father. They’re not even granting you a meeting with the Arbiter, just his lackey! I’m not captaining any of his ships after such disrespect.” Siunqi narrows his eyes, then raises his chin and looks to the ceiling, as if it will grant him the patience to deal with my brother, his son.
“We are to consolidate and regulate the seas in exchange for Tapeu support and an expansion upon the lands we rule,” Siunqi states in a businesslike demeanor. “The Arbiter will provide us with much-needed resources to rebuild our fleet.”
“However, I’ve had meetings with some of our captains who report of rumors pertaining to multiple rebellious factions seeking to usurp the reconstruction of the continent, including many houses within Tapeu itself. So requesting our assistance is a significant priority for the Arbiter, to help maintain order. No one is certain who is the leader of these groups, however, since the collective appears decentralized.”
“Within Tapeu itself?” Cheqansiq blurts out. “Why, when the reconstruction has only just started?”
“They’re a bit dismayed that Achutli has dismissed their services for the reconstruction; my understanding is it’s something about disagreeing with his priorities and policies. There are reports that discussions among the ostracized houses speak of a coup, but these reports have been unable to determine when—or if—that is going to take place.”
“So we’re clearly jumping in while there’s an internal power struggle and claiming Qapauma for ourselves,” Pahua says matter-of-factly, leaning back in the chair until it rests on its hind legs, and continuing to chomp on golden berries while he speaks.
“Not so hurriedly,” Siunqi interrupts. “It’s a bit unclear why these other internal factions are being passed over for their aid while we’re selected. Having our services requested is certainly known by all in Tapeu and makes us potential enemies to these people, whether we accept the Arbiter’s deal or not. And we’ll need to find out for ourselves how much is true and what is actually going on. It could be simply a disagreement on approach, or something more sinister. We can’t make assumptions—someone could be leading us on to take the fall through misinformation—so we’ll likely have to covertly go to the Tapeu home of Chalaqta to talk with the people there to get a true understanding of the situation. And we’ll need to do so discreetly: Even though the new leadership is young and vulnerable, Achutli has still made numerous alliances throughout the mainland. We may not know how deep those alliances are, but it’s possible that angering one might anger them all. We’ll have to tread carefully, but once we learn what is taking place, we can plan accordingly and determine the steps to take.”
Pahua is annoyed by this answer and swings his feet off the table and onto the floor, then leans in with his arms resting on top of the surface and assertively grabs the chalice in front of him, sloshing the liquid around and splashing about droplets.
“Why would they risk your wrath by telling you falsehoods? Why should we support a faction that has never supported us? If the throne is vulnerable, why are we not pursuing it?” Pahua demands, an intensity lingers behind his uncharacteristically hushed words. “Our people have been used and abused by the Timuaq, and before that, we were ostracized to this island by those very Tapeu. Nobody has ever given the Sanqo people respect, and this is our opportunity to finally receive what we’re due.”
“Aside from the multitude of reasons someone would try to lead us to our doom, your history is not even close to being correct,” Siunqi says like a teacher correcting a student, “though I’m not surprised you would get certain details wrong, considering you prefer to spend more time drinking and fraternizing than paying attention to your tutors.”
This condescension sends Pahua into a fury as he slams his chalice down onto the table, liquid erupting out and landing everywhere. Pahua seems unfazed by specks of chicha landing on his hand and dribbling down. His focus remains fixed on our father, his eyes narrow and he looks like a puma ready to leap from his seat and pounce on Siunqi.
“My point stands,” Pahua says, his voice increasing in intensity and volume, “and because you’re too cowardly to seize the opportunity and prefer to move glacially, our people will continue to wallow in misery and languish on this stupid island.”
“Wallowing in self pity causes a person to believe in the nonsense you’re spewing and act irrationally,” Siunqi says with a dismissive chuckle. “We’re still rebuilding our fleet after the War of Liberation, or did you forget all those who sacrificed so we could survive and win?”
“This is why we shouldn’t be speaking of these matters at dinner,” mother remarks with a long exhale, all the while looking down at her meal and picking at the fish, lackadaisically scraping flesh off the bones. As a result of my discomfort, I resume wafting my finger about the mouth of the cup and swirl the liquid inside, trying not to make eye contact for fear of becoming the unwarranted target of their verbal assault.
Pahua curtly gets up from the table, kicking back his chair until it topples across the floor, adjusts his cape and straightens it out, then storms away without saying another word. His stomping feet can be heard long after he leaves the chamber. Seemingly unperturbed by this development, father resumes eating his meal, casting his eyes at nothing else but the food in front of him. He tears a large chunk of crusty bread and shoves the entire piece into his mouth, each determined chew fights hard to break it down. The servants remain still amongst the walls as though they attempt to blend in with the decorations, not wanting to stoke Siunqi’s ire.
After dinner, I find my father on the terrace looking out to the sea, observing the sky changing colors as the stars begin to show themselves. He rests his hands upon the waist-high stone wall and leans forward, his head raised slightly upward, and he looks ruminative as he takes in large breaths of sea air. He takes in the view as he would inspecting a ship, studying the panorama for possibly flaws from the high vantage point of the castle.
“What did we do differently to raise a hot-headed boy like that and a mild-mannered and polite woman like you, Walumaq?” he asks, never taking his eyes off the horizon. Siunqi regularly does this, addressing the correct person without ever looking to acknowledge them, yet I’m surprised every time. I can’t tell if it’s some parlor trick, and I’ve checked for additional pairs of eyes on his head, but my investigation has come up fruitless so far.
“He just wants to prove himself,” I reply. “I kind of assumed every boy wants to make a name for themselves, but you cast a tremendous shadow that’s hard to get out from under.” Siunqi snorts in response, in what I feel is agreement.
“He’s been listening to too many stories back at the docks,” Siunqi laments. “Opportunists who don’t have his best interests at heart are dripping too much honey in his ears. He’s going to act irrationally and needlessly put himself in harm’s way. He doesn’t see that I’m only looking out for him. He’ll have his chance, especially as the mainland rebuilds itself, but he lacks patience.”
“I think that’s every young man in the history of the world,” I say.
Changing the subject slightly, I ask, “You’re not considering going to the mainland, are you, father?”
“It’ll be a diplomatic journey, so I will be fine. Of course, I’m bringing a small compliment of guards, just in case. There is nothing for you to fear.”
“So are we not supporting the Arbiter?” I ask.
“I’ll need to determine this by speaking to some of the nobles I know in Chalaqta,” he says. “Unlike the other factions that blindly gave their fealty to Tapeu, I don’t want to place our people in a position that puts us worse off than when we were ruled by the Timuaq.”
“Sure, the Sanqo have not gotten along with the Tapeu historically,” I say, “but wouldn’t reconstructing Pachil be in our interest? We could have a stake in how it’s rebuilt.”
“Of course,” Siunqi agrees, “but perhaps these outcasted factions within Tapeu have a vision that aligns with ours. Their differences with Achutli could be petty squabbling, but they might know some inside information. I’m willing to listen to their plan.”
For a brief moment, we take in the surroundings together. The tides roll in, gently crashing into the rocky shores below. This place was built on a slight cliffside, for protection and the perspective, and from this height, I always feel like one of the gulls soaring in the air when I look at the landscape. It’s easy to feel incredibly small when you view the vastness of the endless scenery.
I’ve had a question brewing within me for quite a while up to this point, and with the recent development, it feels like the time to finally ask. During the pause in our conversation, I take a few breaths with the hopes of building up the courage to speak.
“Father,” I start, fighting off the knot in my throat that attempts to stifle my confidence and take one more deep breath, “I would like to accompany you on your journey to Chalaqta.”
“I’m surprised you would want to travel away from Haqiliqa, Walumaq,” Siunqi says. He looks at me as though I’m somebody he’s never met before, confusion washes over his face.
“This is something other than my lessons or general chat about Sanqo ships,” I say, concentrating on keeping my voice firm and strong, “and an opportunity to finally see the mainland. I feel there is much to benefit from this journey.”
Father strokes the stubble on his chin with his thumb and index finger and looks up into the cerulean sky as he considers my request. In the distance, the Eternal Flame continues to burn brightly and illuminate the shore like a second setting sun.
“You have impeccable timing,” he says. “You’re aware this isn’t some fishing expedition. Though this journey is in the name of diplomacy, there are possible risks and dangers. In the event that there is, in fact, betrayal planned, I can’t risk my family’s life. We don’t know how we will be received in Chalaqta. I’m sorry, but I can’t allow you to join for this when you may be needed to lead in my stead.”
“I understand, but this feels like an opportunity for me to learn from you and watch how you enact diplomatic policy, which is something I’ve always wanted. The captains I’ve been working and studying with have told many tales about your leadership, and I would like to gain your wisdom. I believe this is what I’ve been training for, and I will make sure I stay with our men for protection.”
“We’ve raised strong-willed children,” he says with a grunt. “You think you can simply ask and I will grant permission?” He finally looks at me, the nearby torches barely illuminating the strong features on his face. Though he tries to maintain a stern and unwavering expression, his emotions betray him and concern seeps through.
“You’ve already been endangered before, and I regret so much about that day. I cannot allow that to happen to you again, and this travel to the continent is not a place for children. You will remain here.”
Something wells up within me—not necessarily frustration, despite being called a child, but determination. I’m drawn to be on this journey, and compelled to not take ‘no’ for an answer. This expedition feels important and precisely the type of situation in which a leader would find themselves. The experience feels a bit out of body; this is not something I thought I would actively pursue, but the words leave my lips on their own volition, guided by some external presence willing me to persist.
“I want you to know that I respect your opinion,” I say, my voice a little shaky from adrenaline surging through me, resolute to make sure my entire case is heard and acknowledged. I place my hand on his and look up into his eyes.
“There will never be a perfect time for me to join an expedition, and especially when politics and warring factions are involved, no situation will ever be safe. But this is why I should go on this journey, so that I can learn from the best example and leader I know during possible tumultuousness. You consider me a child, but at some point, I will have to do this on my own. I can still learn from you while I have you to teach me. This won’t change how you feel, but you shouldn’t blame yourself for the past. I’m still here, and I am going to make sure that I seize every opportunity while I’m here.”
I can see that my remarks have caught my father off guard, and to be fair to him, I’m caught off guard, as well. I have never asked him for, well, anything, and even after I finish what I want to say, I’m still trying to process how—or what—has caused me to want to go with him and travel to the mainland. Perhaps it’s from never setting foot on the continent and wanting to experience something new, but the sensation coursing through me indicates otherwise. I’ll have to reflect on this later. For now, I return my focus to my father and see a quiet contemplation on my his face. After a moment, a thin grin cracks the corners of his mouth and he shakes his head.
“When did I raise such determined, bull-headed children?” my father asks rhetorically. “I’m still uncertain whether this is a good idea or not, but if you allow me until the morning to reflect upon this, I will give you an earnest answer.”
I nod in acceptance, feeling as though I’ve exerted all the emotional energy I can and have nothing more at this point. The idea he will even consider my request is victory enough. He places his hand on my shoulder and gently squeezes a couple times, a look of sincere pride and a hint of sadness in his eyes. Siunqi purses his lips slightly, then lowers his head and walks off into the castle.
Before turning in for the night, I look out from the vantage point one more time. The stone walls nearby glow orange amidst a sea of endless black, and the sound of crashing waves appear seemingly out of nowhere. A few flickers of flame cast just enough light to make a nearby guard barely visible. He looks unsure if he’s allowed to be on the walkway with me on this terrace, but I nod in a gesture of granting him permission to carry out his duties. I deeply inhale the briny air one last time, letting it seep into every cell of my being, and I immediately feel rejuvenated, like the waters are a part of me, and I of it. I feel comforted knowing it’s there, that it is always going to protect me, and that it somehow knows I will always respect and trust in it. From my lips, I whisper a quiet ‘goodnight’ into the nothingness and make my way to my room.
I twist and twirl my finger just above the surface of the tide pool and watch the water rise up slightly, flowing to and fro and following along with my movements. Being on the coast a bit aways from the castle in Haqiliqa is soothing, breathing in the crisp smell of the salty air as the towering Eternal Flame of Iaqa burns brightly far down the shoreline, watching over the island. There’s only so much I can handle of the constantly busy docks and the bustling crowds, not to mention the day-to-day operations of the castle. Here, I find much needed peace in the solitude, among nautical life like the minnows, tadpoles, and other creatures floating around carefree in the shallow waters. I imagine swimming among them, exploring the vastness of the sea and traveling to wherever we please. Tiny crabs with their dark red and greenish colored shells pop out to investigate the large human crouched down near their homes. But once they deem I’m not a threat, they carry about their activities, scurrying around the rocks and dried coral.
The evening sun ducks behind the horizon of the sea to the west where the continent resides beyond, indicating to me that it’s time to return home before my parents start to question where I am. I let out a small sigh, pick myself up off the rocky beach, and begin walking along the shore, carrying my sandals by my side.
At the edge of town, the light brown dirt road is lined with the small stone homes of fishermen and dockside workers. The saltwater air is still crisp as it breezes past my cheeks, and the briny finish revitalizes me each time I breathe it in. The noise of the merchants and fishmongers grows louder the further into town I go, trying to hustle one last sale before day’s end. I mostly ignore the shouts and enjoy my relative anonymity—my cape’s hood drapes around my face and obscures my distinguishing features that make it easy for most people to place me as the daughter of the Sanqo ruler, Siunqi, renowned captain that transported the heroes to the island to defeat the Timuaq. Or so goes the embellished legends people have been speaking since the end of the War of Liberation.
Observing the moss-covered stone walls as I walk toward them, the rigid architecture of the castle is discordant and antithetical to the rolling, curving, and colorful shorelines nearby, rich in deep greens of the conifer trees and deep blues of the sea. The guards, with their polished bronze helmets and armor glimmering in the evening light, instinctively look at me suspiciously. I adjust my hood to slightly reveal my scarred face, one of the distinct trademarks clearly identifying who I am. The men loosen the grips on their halberds and respectfully bow their heads as I walk past.
I find my family seated at the large wooden table at the center of the great hall. The chamber is decorated with numerous shields painted in an array of colors and symbols. Each one indicates a family or house who has pledged fealty to our family and swore to defend the island and Sanqo people. Most of the iconology involves a marine creature: An octopus, a swordfish, a whale, a shark, other various fish. Being a unified nation, despite the assortment of independently-minded factions, speaks to my father’s incredible diplomatic capabilities. In my mind and from what I’ve witnessed, it’s no easy feat to get epically stubborn people who have their own agendas to agree to work with you and adhere to your policies.
Seated at the head of the table is Siunqi, as expected, wearing a deep blue and bronze colored robe with our family’s sigil, the sea serpent, large and colored teal. It wraps around his body as if he’s being strangled by the monstrous beast. My father is adorned in bronze bracelets and necklaces, his strong, boxy jaw juts out as he looks upon the table, impatiently awaiting the feast. My mother, Cheqansiq, is perched beside him to his left, leaning over and speaking to him in hushed conversation that I can’t make out. Her bronze necklaces are embedded with turquoise stones and clink as she emphatically speaks to him, her light brown hair tied in a bun at the back of her head, and her long turquoise earrings bounce and shake each time she makes quick and abrupt hand gestures. Despite the intensity of her motions, her face is bright and beaming, and after a servant in a long, light brown skirt refills her chalice with the golden-hued chicha, her long and slender arm extends to nonchalantly grab the beverage without taking her eyes off of her husband.
Although I want to interrupt the one-way conversation to greet my parents, I decide instead to discreetly find a seat at the far and opposite end of the long table. While I wait for them to notice me, I swirl my right index finger in circles above my cup and spin the water around, gradually faster and faster, getting it to spin and create a whirlpool. I turn my attention to a window on the west wall that opens to the sea, and the setting sun paints the sky in a brilliance of purples, oranges, and reds. I imagine this is where the royalty of the mainland gets the inspiration for their faction’s colors, just how we draw inspiration from the oceans, but nothing manmade could ever capture the beauty the world creates effortlessly and flawlessly.
A servant snappily enters the dining chamber with a large wooden platter, jarring me awake from my daydream. Moving to my father, the servant lowers the platter, allowing the head servant to carefully and surgically transfer one item to the plate, the white and pink flesh of a bass fillet. It’s so freshly caught and prepared that I can smell the citrus and sea water from where I sit. My mother carries on with her discussion and speaks around the actions of the servant. I always have to stifle a chuckle when I see the intense concentration on the servant’s face, expressing such life-or-death seriousness.
As the accompanying foods are being dished out, my brother, Pahua, dramatically bursts into the chamber. He flings his teal and bronze cape, which flares and flows behind him, as he strides toward the table. Much like our father, he juts out his angular jaw and points his thick, wide nose in the air. He finds a chair next to me, scrapes it across the floor to make an ear-piercing screech, and drops into the seat, kicking his feet up onto the table and allowing particles of the sand caked beneath his sandals to trickle onto the surface.
“Are you going to do this every time, Pahua?” Cheqansiq asks exasperatedly, shaking her head and letting out a sigh.
“Oh, hello, mother!” Pahua remarks. “I’m doing well, thanks for asking!” He reaches for a handful of golden berries, pops one into his mouth, and swishes it around, eventually spitting a bit of the thick husk onto the floor. A nearby servant promptly sweeps it up with his hand and hurries off to dispose of it.
“I was told there is some exciting news,” Pahua says while chewing the fruit, the slushing sounds emphasizing the sibilants in his speech. “Something about a fleet I get to lead?”
“Are we going to discuss this at dinner?” Cheqansiq asks Siunqi, tilting her head slightly so that she forces her doe eyes upward to look at him.
“It’s not often Pahua is present,” Siunqi says with a bit of embellishment to his booming voice and casting his hand about as if presenting the room to her. It’s apparent where Pahua gets his knack for theatrics.
While making the gesture, Siunqi finally spots me and his eyes light up, correcting his posture to sit upright, and a hint of a smile comes across his face.
“Look at that!” he exclaims. “The whole family is here! Even greater!” After a pause, he eventually returns to the previous conversation. He takes a large swig of chicha and sets the chalice down with a mighty thump.
“Why, hello, Lady Sky Eyes,” Pahua says, feigning being pleasantly surprised while barely looking over his shoulder to address me directly. As if a large facial scar isn’t enough, my pale blue eyes are yet another aspect of which I can be isolated from everyone. I’ve received nearly constant mockery of my eyes, considering everyone in Sanqo—and all of Pachil, for that matter—have brown eyes. Taunts have always been about my mother sleeping with a sea nymph, or that I’ve got nothing but water inside my head where my brains should be, that sort of thing. Pahua only compounds upon the teasing, typically leading the charge, if anything. Ignoring this, Siunqi proceeds with the topic most pressing on his mind.
“We have been approached by a messenger for The Sovereign, Arbiter Achutli, about utilizing our fleet and declaring the Sanqo as a part of the royal navy. I am to meet one of the Arbiter’s advisors to discuss strategy.”
“Of course he wants our ships and sailors,” Pahua scoffs. “We’re the best in Pachil. Tell me you’re not seriously considering this, father. They’re not even granting you a meeting with the Arbiter, just his lackey! I’m not captaining any of his ships after such disrespect.” Siunqi narrows his eyes, then raises his chin and looks to the ceiling, as if it will grant him the patience to deal with my brother, his son.
“We are to consolidate and regulate the seas in exchange for Tapeu support and an expansion upon the lands we rule,” Siunqi states in a businesslike demeanor. “The Arbiter will provide us with much-needed resources to rebuild our fleet.”
“However, I’ve had meetings with some of our captains who report of rumors pertaining to multiple rebellious factions seeking to usurp the reconstruction of the continent, including many houses within Tapeu itself. So requesting our assistance is a significant priority for the Arbiter, to help maintain order. No one is certain who is the leader of these groups, however, since the collective appears decentralized.”
“Within Tapeu itself?” Cheqansiq blurts out. “Why, when the reconstruction has only just started?”
“They’re a bit dismayed that Achutli has dismissed their services for the reconstruction; my understanding is it’s something about disagreeing with his priorities and policies. There are reports that discussions among the ostracized houses speak of a coup, but these reports have been unable to determine when—or if—that is going to take place.”
“So we’re clearly jumping in while there’s an internal power struggle and claiming Qapauma for ourselves,” Pahua says matter-of-factly, leaning back in the chair until it rests on its hind legs, and continuing to chomp on golden berries while he speaks.
“Not so hurriedly,” Siunqi interrupts. “It’s a bit unclear why these other internal factions are being passed over for their aid while we’re selected. Having our services requested is certainly known by all in Tapeu and makes us potential enemies to these people, whether we accept the Arbiter’s deal or not. And we’ll need to find out for ourselves how much is true and what is actually going on. It could be simply a disagreement on approach, or something more sinister. We can’t make assumptions—someone could be leading us on to take the fall through misinformation—so we’ll likely have to covertly go to the Tapeu home of Chalaqta to talk with the people there to get a true understanding of the situation. And we’ll need to do so discreetly: Even though the new leadership is young and vulnerable, Achutli has still made numerous alliances throughout the mainland. We may not know how deep those alliances are, but it’s possible that angering one might anger them all. We’ll have to tread carefully, but once we learn what is taking place, we can plan accordingly and determine the steps to take.”
Pahua is annoyed by this answer and swings his feet off the table and onto the floor, then leans in with his arms resting on top of the surface and assertively grabs the chalice in front of him, sloshing the liquid around and splashing about droplets.
“Why would they risk your wrath by telling you falsehoods? Why should we support a faction that has never supported us? If the throne is vulnerable, why are we not pursuing it?” Pahua demands, an intensity lingers behind his uncharacteristically hushed words. “Our people have been used and abused by the Timuaq, and before that, we were ostracized to this island by those very Tapeu. Nobody has ever given the Sanqo people respect, and this is our opportunity to finally receive what we’re due.”
“Aside from the multitude of reasons someone would try to lead us to our doom, your history is not even close to being correct,” Siunqi says like a teacher correcting a student, “though I’m not surprised you would get certain details wrong, considering you prefer to spend more time drinking and fraternizing than paying attention to your tutors.”
This condescension sends Pahua into a fury as he slams his chalice down onto the table, liquid erupting out and landing everywhere. Pahua seems unfazed by specks of chicha landing on his hand and dribbling down. His focus remains fixed on our father, his eyes narrow and he looks like a puma ready to leap from his seat and pounce on Siunqi.
“My point stands,” Pahua says, his voice increasing in intensity and volume, “and because you’re too cowardly to seize the opportunity and prefer to move glacially, our people will continue to wallow in misery and languish on this stupid island.”
“Wallowing in self pity causes a person to believe in the nonsense you’re spewing and act irrationally,” Siunqi says with a dismissive chuckle. “We’re still rebuilding our fleet after the War of Liberation, or did you forget all those who sacrificed so we could survive and win?”
“This is why we shouldn’t be speaking of these matters at dinner,” mother remarks with a long exhale, all the while looking down at her meal and picking at the fish, lackadaisically scraping flesh off the bones. As a result of my discomfort, I resume wafting my finger about the mouth of the cup and swirl the liquid inside, trying not to make eye contact for fear of becoming the unwarranted target of their verbal assault.
Pahua curtly gets up from the table, kicking back his chair until it topples across the floor, adjusts his cape and straightens it out, then storms away without saying another word. His stomping feet can be heard long after he leaves the chamber. Seemingly unperturbed by this development, father resumes eating his meal, casting his eyes at nothing else but the food in front of him. He tears a large chunk of crusty bread and shoves the entire piece into his mouth, each determined chew fights hard to break it down. The servants remain still amongst the walls as though they attempt to blend in with the decorations, not wanting to stoke Siunqi’s ire.
After dinner, I find my father on the terrace looking out to the sea, observing the sky changing colors as the stars begin to show themselves. He rests his hands upon the waist-high stone wall and leans forward, his head raised slightly upward, and he looks ruminative as he takes in large breaths of sea air. He takes in the view as he would inspecting a ship, studying the panorama for possibly flaws from the high vantage point of the castle.
“What did we do differently to raise a hot-headed boy like that and a mild-mannered and polite woman like you, Walumaq?” he asks, never taking his eyes off the horizon. Siunqi regularly does this, addressing the correct person without ever looking to acknowledge them, yet I’m surprised every time. I can’t tell if it’s some parlor trick, and I’ve checked for additional pairs of eyes on his head, but my investigation has come up fruitless so far.
“He just wants to prove himself,” I reply. “I kind of assumed every boy wants to make a name for themselves, but you cast a tremendous shadow that’s hard to get out from under.” Siunqi snorts in response, in what I feel is agreement.
“He’s been listening to too many stories back at the docks,” Siunqi laments. “Opportunists who don’t have his best interests at heart are dripping too much honey in his ears. He’s going to act irrationally and needlessly put himself in harm’s way. He doesn’t see that I’m only looking out for him. He’ll have his chance, especially as the mainland rebuilds itself, but he lacks patience.”
“I think that’s every young man in the history of the world,” I say.
Changing the subject slightly, I ask, “You’re not considering going to the mainland, are you, father?”
“It’ll be a diplomatic journey, so I will be fine. Of course, I’m bringing a small compliment of guards, just in case. There is nothing for you to fear.”
“So are we not supporting the Arbiter?” I ask.
“I’ll need to determine this by speaking to some of the nobles I know in Chalaqta,” he says. “Unlike the other factions that blindly gave their fealty to Tapeu, I don’t want to place our people in a position that puts us worse off than when we were ruled by the Timuaq.”
“Sure, the Sanqo have not gotten along with the Tapeu historically,” I say, “but wouldn’t reconstructing Pachil be in our interest? We could have a stake in how it’s rebuilt.”
“Of course,” Siunqi agrees, “but perhaps these outcasted factions within Tapeu have a vision that aligns with ours. Their differences with Achutli could be petty squabbling, but they might know some inside information. I’m willing to listen to their plan.”
For a brief moment, we take in the surroundings together. The tides roll in, gently crashing into the rocky shores below. This place was built on a slight cliffside, for protection and the perspective, and from this height, I always feel like one of the gulls soaring in the air when I look at the landscape. It’s easy to feel incredibly small when you view the vastness of the endless scenery.
I’ve had a question brewing within me for quite a while up to this point, and with the recent development, it feels like the time to finally ask. During the pause in our conversation, I take a few breaths with the hopes of building up the courage to speak.
“Father,” I start, fighting off the knot in my throat that attempts to stifle my confidence and take one more deep breath, “I would like to accompany you on your journey to Chalaqta.”
“I’m surprised you would want to travel away from Haqiliqa, Walumaq,” Siunqi says. He looks at me as though I’m somebody he’s never met before, confusion washes over his face.
“This is something other than my lessons or general chat about Sanqo ships,” I say, concentrating on keeping my voice firm and strong, “and an opportunity to finally see the mainland. I feel there is much to benefit from this journey.”
Father strokes the stubble on his chin with his thumb and index finger and looks up into the cerulean sky as he considers my request. In the distance, the Eternal Flame continues to burn brightly and illuminate the shore like a second setting sun.
“You have impeccable timing,” he says. “You’re aware this isn’t some fishing expedition. Though this journey is in the name of diplomacy, there are possible risks and dangers. In the event that there is, in fact, betrayal planned, I can’t risk my family’s life. We don’t know how we will be received in Chalaqta. I’m sorry, but I can’t allow you to join for this when you may be needed to lead in my stead.”
“I understand, but this feels like an opportunity for me to learn from you and watch how you enact diplomatic policy, which is something I’ve always wanted. The captains I’ve been working and studying with have told many tales about your leadership, and I would like to gain your wisdom. I believe this is what I’ve been training for, and I will make sure I stay with our men for protection.”
“We’ve raised strong-willed children,” he says with a grunt. “You think you can simply ask and I will grant permission?” He finally looks at me, the nearby torches barely illuminating the strong features on his face. Though he tries to maintain a stern and unwavering expression, his emotions betray him and concern seeps through.
“You’ve already been endangered before, and I regret so much about that day. I cannot allow that to happen to you again, and this travel to the continent is not a place for children. You will remain here.”
Something wells up within me—not necessarily frustration, despite being called a child, but determination. I’m drawn to be on this journey, and compelled to not take ‘no’ for an answer. This expedition feels important and precisely the type of situation in which a leader would find themselves. The experience feels a bit out of body; this is not something I thought I would actively pursue, but the words leave my lips on their own volition, guided by some external presence willing me to persist.
“I want you to know that I respect your opinion,” I say, my voice a little shaky from adrenaline surging through me, resolute to make sure my entire case is heard and acknowledged. I place my hand on his and look up into his eyes.
“There will never be a perfect time for me to join an expedition, and especially when politics and warring factions are involved, no situation will ever be safe. But this is why I should go on this journey, so that I can learn from the best example and leader I know during possible tumultuousness. You consider me a child, but at some point, I will have to do this on my own. I can still learn from you while I have you to teach me. This won’t change how you feel, but you shouldn’t blame yourself for the past. I’m still here, and I am going to make sure that I seize every opportunity while I’m here.”
I can see that my remarks have caught my father off guard, and to be fair to him, I’m caught off guard, as well. I have never asked him for, well, anything, and even after I finish what I want to say, I’m still trying to process how—or what—has caused me to want to go with him and travel to the mainland. Perhaps it’s from never setting foot on the continent and wanting to experience something new, but the sensation coursing through me indicates otherwise. I’ll have to reflect on this later. For now, I return my focus to my father and see a quiet contemplation on my his face. After a moment, a thin grin cracks the corners of his mouth and he shakes his head.
“When did I raise such determined, bull-headed children?” my father asks rhetorically. “I’m still uncertain whether this is a good idea or not, but if you allow me until the morning to reflect upon this, I will give you an earnest answer.”
I nod in acceptance, feeling as though I’ve exerted all the emotional energy I can and have nothing more at this point. The idea he will even consider my request is victory enough. He places his hand on my shoulder and gently squeezes a couple times, a look of sincere pride and a hint of sadness in his eyes. Siunqi purses his lips slightly, then lowers his head and walks off into the castle.
Before turning in for the night, I look out from the vantage point one more time. The stone walls nearby glow orange amidst a sea of endless black, and the sound of crashing waves appear seemingly out of nowhere. A few flickers of flame cast just enough light to make a nearby guard barely visible. He looks unsure if he’s allowed to be on the walkway with me on this terrace, but I nod in a gesture of granting him permission to carry out his duties. I deeply inhale the briny air one last time, letting it seep into every cell of my being, and I immediately feel rejuvenated, like the waters are a part of me, and I of it. I feel comforted knowing it’s there, that it is always going to protect me, and that it somehow knows I will always respect and trust in it. From my lips, I whisper a quiet ‘goodnight’ into the nothingness and make my way to my room.
