Three birds on a boat (Graded)

11th Cylus, 719 [Travel thread: Athart->Ivorian Empire]

11th of Cylus 719

The Orm'del Sea is an ocean that separates Eastern and Western Idalos. It is said to have many horrors awaiting those that wish to travel through its waters.
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Pharan
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Three birds on a boat (Graded)

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11th Cylus, 719
“I can’t believe you talked to Ryvern. Over my head.”

Pharan had stepped out onto the pier, his dark cloak wrapped tightly around his narrow frame. Above, seagulls wheeled against an iron colored sky.

“I tried to talk to Ryvern. They wouldn’t admit me.” His sister stopped beside him. Her robes, azure-blue and silver, formed a stark contrast to the gray and black canvas of the harbor. An old servant trailed behind her like an unwelcome afterthought. He stopped in a polite distance, preserving the intimacy of their conversation at least in a nominal fashion.

“I ran into an old friend of father,” Nymae continued. “He had an idea of how to get you to Ethelanum—and offered to arrange it.”

“Arrange to send me over the ocean in a nutshell, delivering letters like an errand-boy.”

“Important diplomatic correspondence,” his sister stressed every word with obvious satisfaction. “And there are two other auxiliaries as well. So… it’s hardly just you.”

“Excellent. My doubts are settled now I know there are more messengers to render my own presence obsolete.” Pharan had sought to put some well-founded spite into his voice but found tired amusement in the face Nymea’s persistence. He had been angry—yesterday. Furious the day before. Now he only felt vague defeat. He looked to the side, to study his sister’s expression grow smug with the delayed realization that she was about to get what she wanted.

“So, who am I going to meet, once I saw my important diplomatic correspondence delivered?”, he asked turning towards the water with sudden trepidation.

“His name is Orik. He has been my contact in the Empire for a couple of seasons.” Nymae smoothed over her robes. “He will be able to tell you who to talk to. Or what trouble he is facing. I couldn’t make much sense of what he wrote in his last letter.”

Nymae waved towards the elderly man behind her. The servant hurried forward, to present a leather-bound journal to the two of them. It wasn’t old, but the cover appeared smooth from use, the pages dog-eared. When his sister made no move to take it, Pharan did.

“And that is…?”, he asked, turning the book over in his hand.

“My notes on last year’s business. Fabric prices. Who we sold to, how much and what they paid. Those things.” Nymae motion for the servant to make himself scarce then moved down the pier. In the distance, sailors busied themselves with dragging some last barrels with water and provisions onto a ship.

“I trust Orik. And he knows the prices. But if anything asked or offered sounds outlandish to you… be careful.”

“You realize there are a dozen people more suited to do this, than me?”, Pharan asked. He tried to remember when he last had been involved in family business and decided that, here and now, might as well be the first time. Ever. He picked up the bags with his belongings and followed along behind his sister.

Nymae laughed. “You always seem to get what you want,” she said.

“If that was true, I wouldn’t stand on this pier today,” Pharan reminded her, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

His sister stopped. “You said it yourself—Ryvern doesn’t plan to leave anytime soon.”

“Because no one wants to travel during Cyclus,” Pharan pointed out, looking up to the ship. The vessel’s dark shape seemed darker when cast against the twilight of the sky. Ominous. Sheets of ice covered the railing here and there and up close the wood and rigging groaned as the wind battered against it.

Pharan felt his breath catch.
word count: 628
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Pharan
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Re: Three birds on a boat

T
he sound seemed originated somewhere deep in the ship’s bowels, a low groan that whispered along the hull and echoed through the stern board cabins. A lantern, hanging from a heavy iron chain, began to sway fitfully, casting fickle yellow light against the wooden walls of the compartment. Pharan reached up to still its movement with one hand.

“Is the whole journey going to be like this?”

One of his fellow passengers, a young Avriel woman named Enori, craned her head to the planks creaking overhead. She had spoken with a curious uncertainty, her brows furrowed, and her arms folded over the satchel with correspondence she cradled in her lap.

Beside her, her quiet companion shook her head. “The currents near the coast are strong, but the sea will calm once we reach the open sea.”

Where Enori was a well-spring of nervous energy, barely contained by her desire to look proper in the company of her older peers, Inya exuded the cool beauty of a glacier. She had the hard, dark eyes of a peregrine falcon and the same, aloof temperament. Pharan guessed she had been tasked to have an eye on her younger companion during their journey. He also guessed, she wasn’t too fond of her assignment.

Before him, Enori bent forward to peer into his journal, then quickly leaned back when their eyes met. Pharan turned the page around for her to see. Narrow columns of black ink filled the pages top to bottom. Names and numbers, all written by the same careful hand page after page after page.

“A long time ago, Avrielian Script and Lorien used to be the same language,” Enori said, sitting up a little straighter. “But the language began to change… the way different words were spoken shifted to other sounds—”

“—like all languages do. And what he, without doubt, already knows,” Inya interrupted, eyeing him with a thin smile.

“You take an interest in Linguistics?”, Pharan asked the younger woman with a smile, ignoring her companion. Behind Enori he saw Inya roll her eyes with a you brought this onto yourself kind of look.

“Yes!”, Enori exclaimed, then immediately cleared her throat, flustered. “I… think it’s interesting,” she murmured, running a hand through her crest. “The thought that one language can become another on over time and that people are so… enamored with the tradition of how its written that the old language survives on its own—don’t you think that’s fascinating?”

Before Pharan could think of a reply Enori already continued. “And that’s why I persuaded father to let me go to a proper university as soon as I was back in Athart.” A pause. “Have you been to university?”, she inquired.

“I heard about it,” Pharan said, closing his journal. “But I have never been there.”

The young Avriel squinted at him. “Oh—I think I have seen you before, in the embassy. You work for ambassador Ryvern. He and father were stationed in Korlasir ages ago, he—”

“—Enori,” Inya’s voice cut her off.

“… well, everyone knows that,” Enori said, casting her fellow an annoyed glance before her face lit up. “Oh… Inya is going to work as an aide soon too—for ambassador Varathin.”

Pharan looked towards Inya, who had risen to her feet. “Which is hardly his business,” she said towards her charge as she made her way towards the door.

“Don’t mind her—she has a temper,” Enori said with a roll of her eyes. “Do you want to hear more about my theory why we stuck to the Avielian Script?”

In the murky light of the cabin, Pharan forced a smile.
word count: 615
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Pharan
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Re: Three birds on a boat

A
s much as Pharan hated to be caught up in the narrow warren that was the ship’s belly, he loathed the deck more. The cold sea water, washing over the railing whenever the ship cut through a mounting wave, filled him with atavistic dread. After a breeze had almost knocked him overboard his first night, he had made it a habit of going on deck each trial, to look over the ocean and battle his onset of a panic.

In a way, it was cathartic. To feel and know it was a sensation born from primal fear and not an artificial whim he had forced onto his pattern for this reason or that.

Most of the time, he was alone in his exercise. It was too cold for casual strolling on deck. He was surprised, when he climbed the stairs to the quarterdeck one evening, to find Inya leaning against the taffrail, the carmine silk of her robes snapping in the wind.

Pharan closed the distance between them, resting his hands against the red lacquered railing. To the side, the concealed shape of the sun hung low over the horizon, the blue-green glow of the twilight sky turning yellow where it touched the ocean. Air currents, visible only to them, chased across the water, giving the view a surreal appearance.

“I am sorry. I never meant to offend,” he murmured.

“Offend me?”

“I know you have been avoiding my presence.”

For a long moment Inya remained quiet, but when she lifted her voice she sounded surprised. “You don’t remember me,” she said, her voice soft.

“I am sure we never—”

“We were at the academy together.” Inya interrupted. “We shared an instructor in mathematics. Vaelle Davosine.” She kept her eyes trained on the ocean. “Towards the end of the course, she offered to write a recommendation for her best students. Do you remember that at least?”

Pharan felt his calm expression fray around the edges. Davosine. She had been one of the older Avriel teaching at the academy. A strict, severe woman she had not liked him much, at first.

“She was… fond of difficult questions,” he said, feeling like he was treating unsafe ground and not knowing why.

“And you knew the answers to less than half of them that day,” Inya said with some asperity. “You know how many I knew? All of them. Every single one.” Her voice had risen with every word, cutting through the cold Cylus air. She took a deep breath, smoothing over the front of her gown. “You knew who got the recommendation?”, she asked, once more composed.

Pharan didn’t bother with a reply.

The irony was, he had not even needed the paper. The test had taken place a fortnight after he had been approached by the Twisted Winds, after he had agreed to insinuate himself with Ryvern the embassy at large. There had only been one reason to vie for the recommendation at all—it had seemed a good excuse. A good reason why the embassy had chosen him over so many other students.

Davosine, his manipulation of her, had been one of his sloppier works. Not the one he regretted most, but the one where had been most careless.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that—as if you understood nothing. I don’t know what you did—but you did something. Ryvern accepted you as his aide after just one year at the academy. You know how long I have been learning? Four arcs. And even now I am stuck playing messenger for the embassy and chaperoning their daughters.”

“And yet you are working for ambassador Varathin soon,” Pharan attempted to smooth the waters.

Something about his words made her draw back. Her chin lifted. “Which is the only light on the horizon. At least you are still stuck with that old buzzard Ryvern while I will work for someone who has something to say.”

She pushed away from the taffrail. “I know your type. Always only looking at how you can advance, of how you can cut yourself an advantage of other people work. But not with me. I will have an eye on you,” she said, watching him.

“Have a good day, aide Elluin,” she said as she turned on her heels, leaving Pharan to watch the storm brewing on the horizon.
word count: 730
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Korva
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Re: Three birds on a boat


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Rewards!


Name: Pharan

Knowledge:
Skill
Rhetoric: Emphasis can augment or clarify the meaning of a sentence
Linguistics: Avrielian Script: Is the ancestor of Lorien (after a fashion)
Linguistics: Avrielian Script: Is written in columns top to bottom
Linguistics: The sounds of a language evolve over time
Discipline: Facing one’s fear of water
Detection: Realize when someone's avoiding you

Non
Enori (Flavor NPC)
Enori: Her father worked with Ryvern in Korlasir a long time ago
Enori: Is going to study in the Ivorian Empire
Enori: Loves Linguistics
Inya (Flavor NPC)
Inya: Used to study with Pharan
Inya: Believes he benefit from nepotism
Inya: Will have an eye on him

Loot: NA
Injuries: NA
Renown: NA
Magic XP: NA

Points: 10
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Comments: The allusion in the last line was wonderful. Your dialogue always flows really well and drags the reader in, the quiet conflict was a great read! Wonderful job and enjoy your rewards :)

If you feel I've missed anything or if you have questions about your review, please don't hesitate to send me a quick PM or ping me in Discord. Thanks!

**Made by the magnificent Kes
word count: 190
ન'ઊળઇ૯ ૧એ૪ઇ૮ ઔનઌઈઇ પઇ, પબ ઇબઇ૮ ૯રશ૧ મકઇ ૧એબ. --Korva
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