Chapter 87

CHAPTER ONE Two weeks had passed since the commotion at Raponell, where there had been ceaseless rumors of ghost ship sightings. Now Col and Myuri were already on their way back to Rausbourne. The strait between the Kingdom of Winfiel and the mainland had a steady northward current all year round, so northward journeys by ship were rarely, if ever, dictated by bad weather. If anything, the weather was a bit too nice, and it almost felt hot standing on deck beneath the expansive blue sky. All sorts of things had happened at Raponell, and at the end of it all, Col had come down with a fever and wound up stuck in bed. Spending a moment in the sun like this was exactly what he needed. The more he gazed up at it, the more he felt like he might fall into the sky. Ghost ships filled with bones had become a distant tale from a distant land, like a dream he had chanced upon in the thick of a moonlit forest. Without a cloud in sight, the sun blazed overhead. Col brought up a hand to shield his eyes and squinted; he could see faint round shapes in the sky. He had once heard that sailors with good eyesight could see the stars and the moon shining brightly beyond the blue skies, even at midday. Col found himself looking to the sky more frequently since then. His thoughts often went back to the metal globe he had found during the recent excitement. On the last night dealing with the old Lord Nordstone, he had peered out the window of the forest manor and spotted the golden moon hanging heavy in the sky. And there had been a globe in the manor that looked just like the moon. An alchemist had once lived in the Nordstone manor and presumably feared breaking taboos no more than any other student of the alchemical arts. Based on how it was treated, it was safe to assume that globe represented some of the most forbidden knowledge to ever exist. “If that is indeed what this world looks like…,” Col murmured as he tightly gripped the crest of the Church that hung from his neck. There were all sorts of outlandish ideas out in the wild—for example, the idea that the earth rested on the back of a giant turtle or that the ocean ended in a sheer cliff. There were but a few theories that were bandied about with great seriousness in old texts. Of course, most of them amounted to nothing more than tales to entertain children, and adults did not take them seriously. But there were some schools of thought that were certainly not meant to be bedtime stories. They might sound preposterous, but they were also strangely convincing. There was little doubt the globe was meant to show the world’s supposed true form—a physical representation of the old school of thought that the world was round. The Nordstone manor alchemist had apparently been searching for the new continent, only to vanish without warning one day. If she had made it her mission to find the continent on the other side of the western sea, then learning the true shape of the world would have been mandatory. And if heading directly west led only to a massive waterfall, then there would not be much to discover or explore. “But if the Church were to find out—” There were some things that should never be spoken aloud. Things that were not allowed to exist. The best example of such were spirits who understood human speech and occasionally took human forms. Col was not being honest with the Church in that regard, but what he saw in Nordstone’s manor crossed an entirely different line. When he returned to the Nordstone manor after things had settled down, the globe he had seen there had vanished without a trace. Perhaps that could be considered a blessing. Since he never got the chance to confirm its existence with Nordstone, it was easy to chalk it up as his misunderstanding. Maybe it was just a fever dream he’d had while stuck in bed. A part of him thought the right thing to do as a servant of God was simply forget everything he’d seen. But if he and his companions were to seek out the new continent in due time, it would inevitably become a problem. Col wondered what he should do if that were to happen. He had no answer to that. How would he react when he discovered a truth that would flip the scripture he held so dearly on its head? There was no way to know. But if he did not prepare himself, then he would undoubtedly freeze at a crucial moment yet again. He tried to rouse himself with that thought, but his mind felt clouded, making it hard to think. A general unease had settled in his chest, almost as if he was seasick. He could feel his mood dipping, despite the rare opportunity to enjoy such lovely weather. Then the cry of a seabird and the yell of a young girl rang out across the deck, pulling him from the depths of his thoughts. “Whoa! Hey! It’s—it’s okay! Stop—flapping!” Col was long past feeling surprise when the familiar yelling filled his ears. With a sigh, he turned to see other sailors, much like him, staring at Myuri, who held a thrashing seabird. “I just want a feather! Oh—hey, Brother! Where do you take the feather for a quill?!” Though birds did not technically make facial expressions, this one seemed quite desperate. In contrast to the seabird’s fear of death, Myuri wore a cherubic smile. “That would be its flight feather. But if you pluck it, that one will no longer be able to fly.” “Wait, really?” She looked down at the bird under her arm. “It’d be sad if it couldn’t fly…And it’s not like we’re going to eat it, either.” Seabirds were always a part of the scenery around ships and ports, but despite their elegant appearance, they were surprisingly violent. On Col’s travels a long time ago, they had swooped down and stolen his food on more than one occasion. But that very same sort of bird was currently paralyzed in fear of a wolf. The ruler of the forests had become ruler of the seas. “Let the poor animal go. The birds have helped us plenty of times already.” Though a fatigue had settled in, one that threatened to bring back his fever, Myuri’s nonsense helped him get his mind off the alchemist conundrum. With a tired sigh, Col stood and stretched. “Does this mean you ruined your quill already? Shall I trim it for you?” After a moment of hesitation, Myuri let the poor seabird go. Though they typically glided along the wind without nary a flap of their wings while staring down at the flightless humans with pity, this one flapped off in a panic like a chicken.