Most of our stories are set in the present era of EVE. This one is set about 300 years prior to the founding of the Raata Empire on Caldari Prime. This will probably be a several-part story.
Chapter One - Legends and AncestorsCity of Veisto, Ishkon Empire, Caldari Prime, 17117 AD A DISTANT BELL GAVE a high-pitched peal somewhere behind him as the captain passed beneath the stone arch. Like most things in this city, it was built to last. Veisto was a frontier city on an island, remote and distant from the rest of the empire. Its people made their living from farming what little fertile there was outside its walls, and quarrying the mines, and did moderately-well at both. But the sea was barren. The ancestors had played a cruel joke on Veisto and much of the Empire, in that there was little that could be harvested from the sea that surrounded this island.
The value in holding Veisto was in its strategic location. It was one of three islands held by the Empire for the sole purpose of its deep anchorage and observing the ships that traveled into the Sea of Onryō. Here lay ruins, some more impressive than others, that had once sheltered the Ishkon and others. Long ago, after emerging to the surface, the Ishkon had migrated south and found more ruins. The land there was more prosperous than what had been left behind, and the climate was slightly better. In that, the ancestors had been fortunate to protect the Ishkon and appoint leaders who had ensured the people were focused on their survival and prosperity. There were tales of too many other races who had failed these singular tests and perished.
The captain wasn't a religious man, but he did believe his ancestors weren't speaking to him. They were angry and displeased for his lack of
heiian - the honorable resignation of self to the Ishkon. It was an old and honorable concept that he had recently breached by questioning the decree of the Emperor; a man charged with ensuring the survival of the Ishkon on this bitter and harsh world. The hazards were numerous: the air was thin, the land produced just enough for survival, and half the people of the Empire still lived in the underground cities that had shielded them for so long.
So now, after questioning the Emperor's decision to send his ship so far north, he was here, pulling his coat tighter and flipping up the collar to protect himself from the cold, biting, wind that made the hanging signs outside the shops creak and sway.
There were other reasons for his haste however, besides the wind. The first and more important was the meeting he was obligated to keep at the local merchant's chapter-house. His directions said it was to be found north of the harbor in the shadow of the outer wall.
Locals should've built it right by the waterfront. What an inefficient practice, he thought, and not for the first time, recalling the veritable forest of masts and ships crowding the harbor's wharves. They had long disappeared behind the buildings and into the darkening night sky.
The second, more imminent, reason caused him to peek over his right shoulder. As he had expected his 'shadow', in the form of two unknown men, was still on his trail. Both were careful to hang back so far as to preclude rash action on his part, but not so far as to lose track of their quarry. They had been waiting for him at the harbor, only thinly disguising their presence by a crude and halfhearted attempt at fishing. Neither looked like locals. They had the square chins and squared-off faces common to the Civir, and walked in a way that reflected their military training.
Their presence had, ironically, affirmed the Emperor's sudden burst of clarity of the last few months. It also caused the captain to brood even more, as he reflected on what his ancestors evidently knew and he did not. Was this a trick on their part? Some test to see if he was still Ishkon? The sudden decision to send a ship north had caught the Admiralty by surprise, and he had been rash in protesting the decision. The Emperor had decreed, however, that the ship
must go in search of new Civir intentions in the Sea of Onryō.
The only problem was that nobody had
heard of Civir intentions. There were some Civir here already but they were mostly farmers, merchants, and the like. A handful had even entered the Navy and Army. It was only after dropping anchor in Veisto that word had come of Civir galleons recently sighted entering the Sea of Onryō. The numbers varied: some said four ships, others a fleet of hundreds. What was agreed-upon was that the ships belonged to the merchants of the House of Velas, who swore fealty to the Civir Dominion, and that they were well-armed and -equipped. This news had only deepened the captain's resolve to redeem his lack of faith in the Emperor's guidance and role in ensuring the survival of the Ishkon in this harsh land.
He turned a corner and was yanked from his thoughts by the appearance of the chapter-house. There were lights blazing inside, and he could hear the sounds of merriment. Tankards clanking, loud voices, shouting, singing, and drunkards reveling. With a quick look back over his shoulder, he crossed the street to the sound of the revelry.
His pursuers stopped under the shadow of the extinguished street lantern, waiting.
* * * * *
The captain climbed the stairs to the second floor and disappeared down the west wing of the building, less one coin as a donation to the ancestors' shrine at the entrance. They guided him well and unerringly, for once. He halted in the hallway of the second floor wing outside a door with a bent bird-wing below the room number, and knocked. It opened to reveal a heavyset man who seemed to fill the doorway. His sideburns ended in braided handles to either side of his chin. The captain's melancholy was abruptly lifted.
"Captain!" the man exclaimed in both surprise and pleasure, clapping the newcomer on the shoulders with all the force and might of a cannon. "Well don't just stand there man! Come in! Come in!" he boomed with a broadening smile and a sweep of the arm to the interior of the room.
The captain took a look around as he walked inside. There were piles of paper in all corners, the desk was overrun with old tomes and musty books not published recently, and a large chart occupied nearly an entire wall. Opposite it was a well-stocked bookcase holding a variety of differently-colored books of equally-varying shapes and sizes. A smoky lantern was puffing away in its corner, casting shadows everywhere, and the storm shutter could be heard rattling away outside the closed heavy-paned glass window. He smiled. It was much the way he remembered it from past visits.
"So, what can old Taaverlo do for you?" the room's master said as he seated himself in a chair. It creaked in protest as his hands got busy with the remains of a charred carcass of what had once been a
bantem - the ubiquitous flightless bird often raised by small families and farmers for meat - while he eyed his new arrival. One of the captain's hands reached deep into a pocket of his grey jacket and withdrew a ring that caught the light.
Taaverlo's jaw stopped for a moment before he finally cleared his throat and gave a thoughtful 'hmm,' leaning back in his chair to eye the captain. "King's business, eh? Interesting."
"Indeed." The first words the captain said came out in a different accent from the man-of-all-trades sitting in the chair. It was heavier and more clipped, polished with a strong undercurrent. There were racial differences between the two; Taverlo the Civir with his square jaw, the captain with his more rounded face that radiated leadership and confidence. In later years the two men would be classified into different racial groups, but for now they were united in their hatred of the Civir Dominion.
"So," Taaverlo said, kicking back in the chair with a sweep of his hand to the room. "What can I do for our illustrious sovereign today?" It was a bitter tone laden with irony. Taaverlo was not a citizen of the Empire by choice. Only hard times and misfortune had driven him to the Empire's services as a broker of information. A spy, only phrased more politely.
The captain's eye was caught by the spine of a particularly thick volume on the bookshelf. One hand reached out to trace the finely-embroidered metal that had been worked into the etchings that decorated the old brown leather. "There are reports that the Dominion has sent an expedition to the Sea of Onryō. My orders are to learn more about this expedition," he added, turning back to Taaverlo. "I already know they want to access the
Kiraatkun Jutu."
Taaverlo was on his feet in an instant. "The Kiraatkun Jutu? Such a thing is madness! They'll be destroyed in an instant. Nobody has been able to get inside."
The captain gave a smile that was devoid of humor or warmth. It was thin and had little joy. "The Emperor says they have found a way. Some piece of technology not native to this planet," he added, fishing out a battered notebook. He flipped it open, turning past pages that held sketches of ships and guns and people. A few, briefly glimpsed, showed walls and hand-drawn maps. Finally he stopped at one that showed what at first looked like a box, only it had wires and what appeared to be a transparent half-crescent almost touching the top-left corner. It looked ... alien. Unnatural.
"My my. Well this is interesting," Taaverlo said, moving to the bookshelf, evidently in search of a particular volume. His hands ran over the spines of the books until he found what he was looking for: an old tome, battered and worn. "Are you familiar with the legend of the
Aka Manto?"
The captain frowned and removed his high-peaked cap, running a hand through his thinning hair before replacing it. The legend of the Aka Manto was an old one in the Ishkon Empire. A story of a vengeful spirit from the heavens who preyed on mariners and the souls of ships, dragging them to the underworld in a whirlwind of fire and destruction. Legend had it that the city of Kirras, far to the east, was nestled in the ruins of a city that Aka Manto had once leveled. "Only the basics. What every child learns," he said after a moment.
Taaverlo finished turning pages and held out the book to the captain. It proved to show a picture of a city being smashed by fire from the heavens. All manner of strange ships could be seen in various stages of disarray. Some were turning over. Others had been snapped in half. Another turn of the page showed lines of people screaming, running, some laying on the ground, others clutching each other. Entire buildings had crumbled and rocks were flying through the air. The captain closed the book to look at the spine, then glanced at Taaverlo. "The wrath of Aka Manto."
The man gave a hand-waving gesture that indicated his belief that it could go either way. "Maybe. These sketches were made by a Dominion scientist named Sadatomo Hamavu, 40 years ago. He returned from an expedition saying he had found a place that offered him 'vision and clarity.' This," he said, flipping back to the picture of the city being destroyed, "was one of the images he claimed his ancestors sent him."
The captain suddenly found himself immensely discomforted by the thought that the ancestors would show a Civir such revelations. He looked at the picture again, noting how it seemed remarkably well-drawn. It was vastly different from the cave-paintings that were found in old ruins throughout the Empire. "How does this relate to the Kiraatkun Jutu?"
Taaverlo settled back in his chair, putting the book on one corner of his desk before giving his guest a strange look. "Hamavu claimed Aka Manto could be summoned from the Kiraatkun Jutu. Your box, well ..." he paused, before flipping to a new page and showing it to the captain. The visitor blinked as he looked at the new page, then at the box whose shape had been traced by the Emperor's own hand. Then he looked back at the image in the tome. And then he looked up at Taaverlo, who gave him a knowing nod.
"Indeed, my friend. Hamavu said the ancestors showed him a vision of the key to get inside. Your mysterious box, my friend."
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Topic: To the Seas and Skies (Read 681 times)