Kusi's Voyage | 1.

[truelarper 593]

 

Spoiler

REMINDER
Nothing is known IRPly unless you were there...

“ᴅᴇɴɪᴇᴅ ʜɪꜱ ꜱʜɪᴘ, ᴋᴜꜱɪ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀᴡᴀɴᴛɪɴꜱᴜʏɪɴ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴇᴀꜱᴛᴡᴀʀᴅ
ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴀʟʙᴀ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴛʜɪᴇꜰ, ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴠᴇꜱ ʜɪꜱ ᴏᴡɴ
ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱɪɴɢ ᴄᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴜʀᴀɢᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴅᴇꜱ. . .”
 

 

     The bells of Rittersberg tolled the hour of merchant’s end, and four small figures moved through the setting dusk like scraps of night torn loose from the upper-district. They wore the dark habits of wandering nuns—rough wool, rope belts and crosses that dragged their necks.

 

They emerged beneath the arch of St. Godwinsburg, long habits dragging across gravel and painted tiles alike. The square beyond had gathered into a pressing herd—some faces known, others estranged—and the nuns paused to take in everything with lowered heads.

 

Just before the bridge to the castle and past the whispering aviary, the familiar figures loomed—eyes cold and narrowed, suspicion hanging in the air like a storm cloud. The crown prince, the girl Aurelian, and a few others. And then, as if by unspoken command, their collective gaze turned toward the foremost sister, Isuk. 

 

Isuk was Kusi beneath the disguise. White powder and rosen blush had leeched the brazen sheen from his features, leaving him pale and ill-cast. When he spoke he croaked and squawked like a rusted rod, mimicking the thin voices of the elderly, striving to smother the ruin of his natural bellow.

 

The same affliction came over Sister Adok, who was in truth the northern nomad Koda. His borrowed voice rasped and wavered a wind from colder lands poorly trapped in wool and prayer.

 

One of the nuns slipped from the press and vanished. When she returned, the habit was gone, replaced with the regality she once stood in. Her face, plainly visible, betrayed nothing of her disguise and fooled none. 

 

The work of the sister Aino—who’s true identity was the Lady Pomponia—had been undone. The disguise she had so carefully crafted, the habits she had captured from her mother, the makeup she had applied with gentle care, all of it unraveled in an instant. Now, only she remained apart from the two other nuns, her form a stark contrast to their quiet composure. 

 

While they spoke, Sister Isuk drifted toward a man pawing through the scoffers of alms set out for the poor. She greeted him gently, croaked “Dearest,” laid a hand upon his cheek and offered prayer as though blessing were her sole intent.

 

When the man confessed he was homeless, Sister Aino cried out sharply, the word tearing from her throat like a curse and an agonising memory; 

 

“Darkspawn!”

 

Sister Adok clamped her hands upon her shoulders and hushed her at once, where Isuk’s glance alone had failed. She apologised profusely, laying blame upon a foul disease and the failing memory of Sister Aino. The moment passed beneath stifled sobs and muttered whispers. 

 

The man—who named himself Gray—stared on in horror, yet bore no grudge. A few words were exchanged between Sister Isuk and him in low tones, and at last he lifted his hand and pointed the way.

 

He would show them the road to the docks.
 

---

 

 

     The sea met them with a breath of salt and fish. The docks sagged with tradesmen, spoken only in passing now, for many sailors labored elsewhere, readying the harbour for the grand festivities promised in the coming year. Overhead, a seabird screamed, a thin and ragged cry, then wheeled away as lonely as the coast itself.

 

“Ya meant this place?” Gray asked.

 

“Oh yes. Yes we do. We do.” replied Sister Isuk, her scarlet tresses stirring beneath the holy veil like embers teased by wind. They spoke a little longer, the words were small, stuttered and edged. Suspicion took root in the vagabond's eyes. He did not voice it. He only turned, and went back the way he had come, swallowed by the stone-cliffs.

 

At last, they were alone.

 

The children stood at the cliff’s edge overlooking the docks and raised their spy-glasses, sweeping the breadth of the twinkling sea. They studied each vessel in turn—their masts, their scars, the way they rode the tide—until they settled, lingering there for a moment.

 

For the first time since the square, they allowed themselves a breath.

 

The waves whispered of departure. The tide crept inward, patient and inevitable. It was time. 

 

Kusi went to the loneliest ship—a lean, weather-beaten thing that rode the water like a beast half-asleep. He seized the great-chain that bound the vessel to the harbour and broke it. The iron broke with a sound like a seagull’s scream. Links fell into the water with a dull, final sound and were gone.

 

Moments later it slipped from the docks, with short farewells and goodbyes cast to the rest of the company. The sail caught and the vessel glided into the early mist, where the fog stroked the dark waters of the sea like a living hand.

 

The harbour remained behind him—quiet, watchful and indifferent…

 

---

 

     On the next eve’, a merchant came down upon St. Godwinsburg like a breaking storm. He roared through the harbour, red-faced and sweating, flinging his hands as if he would tear answers from the air. He bellowed of his ship—gone in the night, stolen while it rode the tide beneath a blind moon and rising sun.

He swore it had been fast when he left it. Sound. Chained. Rocking easy on the water.

 

At dawn the men of Alban came down to the docks and they found no signs of theft. No cut ropes. No marks of tools. The harbour lay as it always had, colourful and reeking of fish and rot. But the chain was broken. 
 

Not gnawed through. Not worked loose. Broken. 
 

The iron links were crushed and split, twisted apart as though a great hammer had fallen once—and once only. The metal yielded like bone. 

 

The ship was gone and no search ever found it.

 

Spoiler

 

 

dookie

 

 

Edited February 9 by truelarper

[confusedjester 811]

Spoiler

i’m cryign 🙏🙏🙏

 

[TaraJess 2848]

Aurelian suspiciously squinted at Sister Isuk...

[Mady 3771]

Brushing her hair in front of her vanity that evening, CAERINE seemed to find a few stray specks of powder tucked in her hairline. A knowing smile graced the lips of the young Princess as her eyes wandered to the abandoned habit now hidden in the back of her dresser and the mischievous antics it represented. 

[Metamancy 1759]

Alan Gray itched his head, mumbling to himself as he walked back to Saint Godwinsburg.

 

"Dude. Like. What the hell."