Loser’s Fiction Audio

I wrote this four years ago, posted it here under the original title ‘Why Death Abounds’ but I split it into two parts because it’s basically a novella. This time it’s all one and renamed after a new poem that links the stories:ONE“and he hath brought us into this place, and hath given us this land, even a land that floweth with milk and honey.”‭‭Deuteronomy‬ ‭26‬:‭9‬ ‭KJV‬‬The smartly dressed lawyer repeats himself once more, “Yes, your father was reported missing seven years ago - I’m sorry, I was made to believe that you were notified?”David stares skeptically at the man, then lets his eyes drift into a blank middle-distance before answering, “No… no, I wasn’t. Well, someone might’ve tried to contact me. My father and I, we aren’t, uh, weren’t, on the best terms.”The lawyer doesn’t break his placid gaze, instead plowing through the potentially awkward silence, “Ah, well, that is regrettable. And I am terribly sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it does come with a sort of silver lining. As I stated previously, the statute for declaring a missing person, or persons, ‘presumed dead’ is seven years, of which time has since lapsed. That being true means that there is now the matter of your fathers last will and testament.”David is brought out of his erstwhile stupor, back to the unanticipated subject at hand. “But you said presumed dead, doesn’t that change things somehow?”The overdressed man remains unperturbed by the subject, continuing, “Legally speaking, it has little effect. Once you sign these documents, you will be the official owner of the property in North Dakota, including all of the possessions therein.”David looks back to the lawyer dresssed like a knife and says, “And if I don’t want it? Can’t you sell it or something?”The lawyer doesn’t miss a beat, answering in a friendly but rote speech, “Well I encourage all clients to first see the property and verify that there is nothing there they wish to keep before acting to sell. In this case I would judge it especially prudent, as there are several colonies of bees reported to be on the property - the value of which you can see here, in the file.”David mechanically takes the proffered folder and asks incredulously, “I’m sorry, did you say bees? Like bumblebees?”The implacable lawyer responds, “Yes, that’s right. Several colonies of honeybees are on the property, which, according to the file, are valued rather highly. If you wish to sell the bees apart from the property, at their listed value, you will have to claim ownership and then begin the process of selling them on their own.”David opens the file and sees the listed value of his father’s honeybee colonies. His eyes open wider for a moment, then he closes the folder again. David inquires, “Don’t bees need taken care of? Has anyone been doing that?”The lawyer, seeming to intuit David’s decision to sign, produces a pen from nowhere while answering through a fixed smile, “I’m sure I don’t know, Mr. Whitfield. All the more reason to inspect the property as soon as you are able.”David clicks the pen and returns it to the glabrous hand of the lawyer. With that, he smiles and says something about being in touch, and then disappears.David is distracted with thoughts of his father and his apparent disappearance that brought the lawyer to his door. Seven years? A feeling of unreality spreads as he shuts his door and returns to his kitchen table. While he will not mourn the loss of his father, he is met with an incongruity. It feels as if his father has just gone missing, yet he has actually been gone for seven years. David flips through the folder of information, as faint memories replay in his mind. With one hand he absently rubs his knee where small scars blotch the skin, and with the other he unknowingly traces a strange box-shape on the table. He can hear the intangible voice of his father, perfectly clear in his ear. David is kneeling on rice as his father stoically recites scripture, occasionally landing impersonal strikes with his leather belt. Seven years - Finally, a holy number in a context David can appreciate. And thirteen years since they last spoke, on the day he left. This realization doesn’t amuse him however, and he shivers slightly. He closes the folder, still rubbing his knee, and settles on the decision to drive up to the property tomorrow morning. He is brought out of his contemplative state by a buzzing noise: the distinct sound of an insect against a window. He stands from his table and walks over to the window with a napkin, intending to squash the fly. Once he sees the trapped insect, he realizes it is a bee or a wasp and opts for a safer route of removal. He carefully opens the window and the bee crawls across the spectral pane to the opening. It pauses there, flutters its filmy wings and then buzzes off into the outside world. David stares after the departing insect, the ghost of an uneasy feeling growing in his stomach.The night is filled with strange dreams and cold sweats. In that liminal place, he finds himself standing on the property line of his fathers house in North Dakota. It resembles the place he grew up, yet dreams have a way of rendering the familiar into something alien and strange. The house bears a malignant cast, with every living plant seeming to lean away. The entire structure shivers and warps. The ground, rather than solid, is comprised of strange slats. David approaches wearily and finds a gaping hole in the ground at least 12 feet deep. He gazes down into the bottom and sees it is filled with withered old Bibles and other such old tomes. Atop the books stands a man, faced away, swinging a belt at some small indiscernible thing wreathed in shadow. He knows the man is Old Man Saul and he knows what the small shadowy thing is. He looks away, and sees the house quiver, then explode outward in a million humming pieces. Small shards of the house buzz around him like insects before bombarding his arm, stinging fiercely in a thousand places. He wakes up screaming and can still feel the thousands of tiny needles puncturing his skin. There’s the strong and unaccountable smell of bananas permeating the dark room. Touching his arm hesitantly, he finds it numb from the position he was laying in. He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling, seeking rest in vain. As he stares up, the darkness in the corners seems to crawl and move. The shadows creeping inward, slowly encompassing the entire ceiling in a depthless black. Eventually, he passes into restless and unremembered dreams.TWO“… My father hath troubled the land: see, I pray you, how mine eyes have been enlightened, because I tasted a little of this honey.”‭‭1 Samuel‬ ‭14‬:‭29‬ ‭KJV‬‬David awakens in a clammy state of dishevelment with the wisps of a dream that evaporates as he tries to recall it. He gets dressed and leaves before the dawn stretches its blinding arm up over the horizon. He is driving for several hours, past lonely houses and through the occasional city. He calls to have the electricity restored at the house, then he drives in silence. The quiet hum of the tires against the asphalt lulls him into a mindless stare. He can’t help but feel like he is being pulled back to the house he grew up in, that unseen forces are at work to bring him back. He comes close to turning around twice. The exterior world speeds by in a brownish-green blur; the landscape, a topographical rug being quickly pulled out from underneath him. Suddenly an animal runs across the road and David is forced to jam his foot onto the brakes. Startled out of his monotonous drive, he looks around and realizes he is on a road with nothing in either direction, ahead or behind. A dense wall of trees lines the road on either side, and there are no road signs or markers of any kind. David pulls out his phone and is unsurprised to see it displaying no signal. Something seems to pull slightly at his memory, that maybe he knows this empty road. He rolls down his driver-side window to look backward, but still sees nothing. More disconcerting is that he hears nothing either: no animal or insect, car or person. He makes the only real choice he has, to drive deeper into these eerie woods and farther down this ominous road. He tries to think of what his driveway looked like, or the street he grew up on, but the memories feel hazy and ethereal.He drives for what feels like an eternity, watching the ubiquitous tree line encroach closer and then recede slightly as he speeds by. He passes an abandoned house that is so completely overgrown and decrepit that he nearly mistakes it for part of the forest. On and on he drives, until finally his phone buzzes with the sudden reception of service. David grabs it and inputs the familiar address: 40 Forest Lane. The GPS loads and then shows the house as being three miles behind him, which is impossible because he would have seen it. But there was nothing back there, just woods. He looks in his rear view mirror at the empty zenith of the road, the point in which all the lines converge into a vacant speck. It couldn’t be back there, but he turns the truck around and follows the road back until the GPS unceremoniously posits that he has arrived. He looks around and sees nothing. Then, he sees the depressed ruts of car tires in the grass, leading to a slight break in the trees. There in the grass is a small sign with a Bible verse burned into its grain. It reads, “He will not look upon the rivers, the streams flowing with honey and curds. ‭‭Job‬ ‭20‬:‭17‬” It’s subtle and the message is eerie, yet he’s surprised he missed it. More than that, he truly can’t understand how he has no memory of this driveway. He pulls the truck off the road and into the heart of the woods. It doesn’t feel familiar in the slightest.The trees are much closer now, their spindly oppressive limbs forming a cage overhead like the petrified fingers of ancient creatures long forgotten - or perhaps never even known - hiding the gray sky from view. The lane continues this way for enough time that the rear view resembles the fore view. The only sounds to be heard are the crunching of stones and gravel under the tires, and the occasional snapping of twigs. Ahead, he can see sunlight and an apparent end to the nefarious wall of trees. When his truck finally emerges from the tunnel of reaching branches, David finds himself in an unfamiliar clearing. Fields of flowers stretch off to the right and left and he slowly drives his truck through on two narrow tire tracks that have been worn through to hard earth. Out in the center of one field of flowers is a stack of boxes that David recognizes as bee hives, though he doesn’t see any activity. At the end of the flower fields are several rows of fruit trees that also have a stack of bee boxes in a slight clearing, but he still hasn’t noticed any bees. Then he sees the rear of his familiar childhood home. A swirl of negative emotions roils around in his stomach. He pulls up to the small shed his father would fill with canned things, and he shuts off the truck. Then there is nothing: the sound of dead air. It feels as though the windows are up, and he will open the door to a clamor of insectile chirrups and aviary caws. Yet his window is still down. David sits for several agonizing minutes, hearing only the innate whine of his own ears. Not even a zephyr disturbs the atavistic silence.When he finally convinces himself to move, he is met with the feeling of everything shifting its focus to him: as though every branch, rock, and board is watching. The gravel drive crunches under his boots, and his keys jingle loudly as he flips through them for the right one. He mounts the back porch which wraps around to the front, and the boards seem to groan and agonize over his every step. He reaches the door quickly and finds himself shaky. He tries his key in the lock, but it doesn’t turn. His father must’ve changed the locks at some point. Checking the old spot first, he finds it vacant of any keys, as expected. He thinks for a moment and considers where Old Man Saul would have hidden his spare. He checks under the mat, in the light by the door, in the rafters, and behind the wood burned sign reading, “‘And all they of the land came to a wood; and there was honey upon the ground.’ ‭‭1 Samuel‬ ‭14‬:‭25‬”: he does not find the spare key. His father must have become paranoid in his old age. Just then he notices a crease in the plastic siding next to the door. He bends it back and pulls the siding away and finds a small hide-a-key mounted to the wood there. He removes the key and opens the door to be greeted by a host of strange things. The first is the state which the house was left in: there are papers littered across the floor and pinned to the walls, open books on nearly every surface, and dirty dishes strewn about. The second thing he notices is the overwhelmingly sweet smell of honey, mixed with something rotten and foul. Then there is the drawing.Every piece of furniture has been pushed away from a space in the center of the living room. In the empty space there is a white chalk drawing, scrawled in lurid arcs and crazed lines. The shape of it can’t even seem to be registered by a human eye. The longer David stares at it, the more it seems to contort and squirm into other shapes. It is sort of like an imperfect cube, with every face being misshapen and detailed with strange markings. He can’t explain why, but it scares him. He has goosebumps on his arms before he finally pulls the large rug overtop of it. He takes stock of the room and then moves to the kitchen. There are a few jars and dishes on the counter, along with something rotten sitting on a plate. He makes his way back to the bedrooms and peaks into his fathers room first. Not much has changed in 13 years, it looks to be in the same state of disarray as when he left. Then he looks into his old room, and finds it in the exact state he left it: well organized and cleaned, save for the thick patina of dust accumulated through years of disuse. He walks back out to the living room and grabs a thick industrial-sized trash bag, throwing away dishes and scraps of paper with scribbles and drawings on them. As he works, he vaguely organizes the papers and books into two piles; those written by his father, and those not. Despite intending only to get rid of the filthy plates and dishes, he finds himself staring out over a mostly clean and organized living space 45 minutes later.THREE“… and he turned aside to see the carcass of the lion, and behold, there was a swarm of bees in the body of the lion, and honey.”‭‭Judges‬ ‭14‬:‭8‬ ‭RSV-C‬‬The living room now consists of three mounds, three summations of the final years in his father’s life. A pile of garbage and rotten food, one of old esoteric texts, and a third of strange inanities scribbled out by a failing mind. Each grave mound serves as both headstone and obituary to the forgotten life of his father: ‘Here Lies Saul “Old Man” Whitfield: Angry in Life, Mad in Death’. Yet, he does not lie here and it begs the question - what happened? The disappearance does not bother David emotionally, but rather practically. Some of the items he sorted through do bother him emotionally. There are dozens of old books, including several translations of the Bible, and several books he doesn’t recognize. David sits down on the floor by the stacks of books, more out of curiosity than anything. As he reads the spines of the books, and flips through a few of the pages at random, he is surprised at the contents. The first few are simple King James Bibles and other translations, along with the occasional book about bees, but the texts become stranger as he glances through them. He finds collections of apocryphal texts known to be rejected by certain branches of Christianity. There are different prints of theologoumena, books and stories not held as inspired by any church. Then he comes across several unknown tomes of the occult, some with names he knows and others with foreign titles. There is a thin text called ‘The Book of Lies’ by Aleister Crowley, another much larger book called ‘Three Books of Occult Philosophy’ by Cornelius Agrippa, a strange text called the ‘Grand Grimoire’ by Pythagoras, and a few other blatantly occult texts mixed into the pile.There is one book however, that sends shivers radiating up his spine, reminding him of the crazed chalk drawing on which he sits. The book has no name or title on the outside, but the first of its yellowing pages says, ‘Forrey’. Perhaps the author? As he holds it in his hands, he feels goosebumps rising on his arms. It is bound in a heavy gray colored material not unlike slate, and the color and quality of the pages speak to a very old printing date. Or perhaps, not printed at all?... When he holds it at a certain angle, the ink glares slightly, indicating it may have been handwritten. This Nameless Book reads much like a religious text, with flowery old English. He reads at random, flipping his way through. He sees terrifying sketches and indecipherable images, unfamiliar equations and alien words. When he flips to the final sections of the book, he finds the last two dozen pages hastily torn away. He closes the book and sets it aside, wishing to distance himself from it, then he moves over to the pile of papers. There are a few hastily written reminders, and many vague lists of words. A little less than half of the material pertains to beekeeping, while the rest is composed of indecipherable ramblings and sketches. The handwriting becomes more fevered and less legible as the notes shift further down the twisting path of paranoia.David rubs the back of his neck while he looks at his fathers papers. Shapes of imperfect cubes and hexagon patterns are littered across the floor. With a shiver he recalls the nameless gray book and the white chalk shape under the carpet. He wants to be away from the two things, so he stands and wanders through the house, reliving memories he’d rather not have lived the first time. Before long, he wants to be away from the house as well, so he decides to investigate the hives outside. He exits the front of the house and is immediately confronted with a pile of dirt and earth, the edge encompassing the porch. When he steps off the porch and looks to the other side of the dirt, he sees a large hole in the ground. As he draws closer, he is aware of an irrational fear that he will find his father’s decomposing body. Approaching the hole, he notices a few things: it appears to be six feet in depth, and was dug by hand. There is the remnant of an impression in the dirt wall at the bottom, it seems to have been a crate or chest of some kind. Could it have been a coffin? No, too small… He shivers and pushes the thought aside. David suddenly remembers a flash of the nightmare he had last night; of his father in a hole. He feels the goosebumps returning on his arm and the hair on his neck stands on end. He stares down into the hole then attempts to stave off the chills by rubbing his arms. He can’t help but wonder what strange dealings his father was involved in before he vanished.David turns away from the hole and notices the front door of the shed, slightly ajar. He walks over and pushes the door open, once again needlessly anxious. He stares into the small room, every sinister corner darkening with malice. He slowly walks inside, mostly to prove to himself it’s harmless. His face bumps into something and he yelps slightly, reaching out to feel what it was. He finds a harmless string hanging from the ceiling. He vaguely recalls a thin pull-chain hanging from the lights in here, so he pulls on it and hears the satisfying click as the room floods with light. He is glad he called on the drive up to have the electricity turned back on. Before him there are dozens of shelves from floor to ceiling stocked with an iridescent amber: jars of pure honey lit by harsh fluorescent light. On the side of the room is a small wooden workbench with several empty jars and one with honey in it. Above the workbench is a placard of wood with a Bible verse burned into its surface: “And with honey out of the rock should I have satisfied thee. Psalm 81:16” After looking around the room, David approaches the workbench. On it he finds a leather bound journal his father must have kept. He takes it and flips it open to the beginning, finding an entry about the state of his beehives. He closes it to take it with him. He is about to turn and leave when something strange catches his eye. He lifts the jar of honey from the workbench and holds it closer to his face, in direct white light. Suspended in the center of the amber liquid is a large bee, perfectly preserved. A Queen perhaps? David stares at the insect held in abeyance, turning the jar carefully to see its every minute detail. Setting the jar back down on the workbench, he clicks the pull chain, ending the quiet hum of the filaments above, and exits the small shack.David walks away from the shack toward a cluster of trees with a hive in their midst. It is a stack of crates nearly as tall as himself, resembling a tower of over-sized shoe boxes. He walks under the branches of dying trees and up to the hives, noticing that there are no bees flying about. Placing his ear against the hive, he hears nothing and feels only the cold wood. He attempts to open it, but there’s a sticky resistance. With some prying and working his fingers under the top, he manages to wrench it open. Inside, there are rotting frames and rodent nests, but no living bees. As David makes to replace the lid, he hears a faint buzz. A single bee hums its way over to the hive from deeper in the woods, landing silently on the lid he is holding. It lands and crawls about, then remains very still except for the near-imperceptible movements of small insects. When it takes off again, it hovers just in front of his face almost conspiratorially. It slowly flies off in a lumbering straight line, and without really thinking, David follows it. He can easily track the small trundling body as it seems to graze among the plants, steadily migrating northward. He finds himself mesmerized by the flight pattern and soothed by the buzz.Several minutes pass by unreckoned as David follows the small pollinator turned pied piper. A subtle shift in the soundscape brings him out of his hypnotic trance. It sounds like a distant engine idling mildly. The closer he gets, the louder and more invasive the sound becomes until it seems to be more of an unceasing roar, like the drone of an airplane prop. Then he sees the source of the noise, though subconsciously, he already knew what it was. Ahead of him, tipped into a large hole in the earth, is a red shipping container. It juts out of the dirt like a compound fracture; the bloody bones of a mutilated earth. The metal of the container seems to morph and meld as he watches. The ever-changing texture, the byproduct of thousands upon thousands of bees flying around and crawling on the surface. When he sees it, David stops completely and realizes with trepidation that he isn’t wearing any protective gear. He backs away in shock and fear, the spell of the lone mesmerizing bee lost in the horrifying sight of thousands more. Yet, the horde of buzzing insects is still mesmerizing, in its own way: the way of all terrifying things. David peals his eyes away and begins looking around until he sees his fathers house. He takes one more look at the strange sight, then walks away from the vibrating grounds of the hive. He has more questions than before, and decides to seek answers in the mad ramblings and leavings of his estranged father, Old Man Saul.FOUR“is it a small thing that thou hast brought us up out of a land that floweth with milk and honey, to kill us in the wilderness, …”‭‭Numbers‬ ‭16‬:‭13‬ ‭KJV‬‬David can recall other kids at school whispering about his father, unkindly bestowing the moniker ‘Old Man Saul’. He has very few fond memories of his childhood, and so represses them all equally. Walking back up to his childhood home, there is an inward warring of his subconscious against his memories: things long buried rearing their ugly heads in pursuit of recognition. David steps inside the house and feels a chill that has nothing to do with the temperature. He glances at the carpet, and the chill spreads. Knowing the foul secret it covers, he shivers at the thought of that contorting cage-like shape. He walks over to the pile of his fathers papers and unceremoniously sits himself on the floor next to them. Once down, he begins pouring over the papers, actually reading each one before setting it aside. The first paper he grabs has dimensions written out in a careful hand. When David contemplates the size, he realizes it is likely the measurements of a shipping container. He looks at the pile of papers and spots a drawing that looks to be of the same dimensions. He grabs it and finds a well drawn blueprint for converting just such a small space into an underground bunker. He sets the paper aside, once again wondering what made his father so paranoid. He blindly grabs another paper and finds it is a grocery list, but based on the amounts and items, it was to stock the bunker. He finds several other papers pertaining to the bunker and its contents. After several minutes of carefully reading papers regarding his fathers holdout, he comes across a short journal entry written on the back of a photo. The picture features an old building he doesn’t recognize, and the journal entry baffles him:Can’t find origins of the book. The name Forrey is tied to the occult. Family goes back hundreds of years, same as Cartwrights. Maybe Ogden or Jonathan for author?David sets the note aside. He wonders what it means while rifling through the papers, then he recalls a strange genealogy with hasty circles around certain names, one of which was Forrey. He quickly locates the weathered page and sees the name. He traces the lineage toward present day, and finds a difficult to read notation in his fathers hand, “Thomas Forrey = Thomas Ward”. The notation means little to David, but appears to have meant something to his father. From there down, the Forrey name is replaced with Ward, effectively erasing the line. Strange… Why had this meant so much to his father and why was he looking into it? David begins to feel once more that he should not have come, opting to sell without visiting the property. He pulls another paper out of the stack and finds schematics for a strange beehive that looks more like a trough. Scrawled in the margins is a short shopping list that reads, “hive tool, smoker, wood chips, pine needles, feeder, sugar, bee brush”. David places the note on the pile of things he’s read, then grabs a small notepad.He flips through the few lists and phone numbers, and finds another journal-like note from his father. It is written in a fairly clear hand, which makes the content even more disconcerting, since it was written in a more clear-headed time. The note reads short and clipped, but still chilling: “Broke ground on the bunker today. Found an old book buried in front of the house. Could this be a sign from God? It speaks of hidden places, so it must be.” The malignant gray book without a name is undoubtedly the one his father found. This perhaps explains the two giant holes outside, but it doesn’t explain much else. Then another handwritten note catches his eye, because it isn’t in the same handwriting. This is a fine cursive script that looks superannuated in its flourishes. The edge of the paper is ripped and yellowed and aged. David realizes it is likely a page from the unearthed and nameless book. It has been written on top of and turned into a palimpsest by his fathers strange interjections. It takes him some parsing through, but he reads the contents of the torn page and is left staring blankly at it:We found the key which we sought for. They are stones, pieces from the pillars of that terrible cage of which even myth only ever dare allude. The hidden places can only be accessed through the stones, and they shan’t be tampered with lightly. Ye cannot imagine the horror, the power, and the beauty of that which liveth in the lifeless void. Far more than frightening, are the denizens of that place. They seem not bound by laws of our world, but wholly able to do as they wish. This hidden space may function in ways heretofore unknown. The stones must be preserved, lest further study be hindered. We sojourned only once, and that merely as an unintended consequence of physical contact with a stone.David does not understand what he’s reading, and he rereads it a half dozen times. He wants to laugh at the outlandish writings, but finds it chilling in the same inexplicable fashion as the chalk shape under the carpet. Then there are the musings of his father, hastily written in the margins. There are references to the lineage of Forrey, something about a stone, and continual ramblings about hidden places. The degradation of his fathers sanity is most visible in these scratched out notes. Despite wanting to write off all of the documents here to the ravings of a deranged man, he finds himself anxious and concerned. There is also a mounting sense of dread as he realizes he needs to go back to the nameless book and he needs to read his fathers hive journal. He lays eyes on the gray book in the pile on the other side of the carpet. The shadows seem darker around it. Worse still than the strange habits of shadows around it, there is the unmistakable feeling that it is in fact watching him - that it has been from the moment he stepped inside, and perhaps even before that. David leans over and reluctantly takes hold of the book, though it feels as though it takes hold of him. Is he imagining it, or is it unusually cold to the touch? He flips open the book to the page that reads, “Forrey” and then gingerly turns to the first writings. The whispering sounds of the old pages against each other seem to speak of things better left unsaid: profane truths never meant to be known. There is a malformed cube sketched on the first page, then the book begins. It reads like an older religious text, not unlike the King James and Catholic bibles. He reads the opening lines of the text and slowly forgets his surroundings as he feverishly consumes the words.FIVE“And I took the little book out of the angel’s hand, and ate it up; and it was in my mouth sweet as honey: and as soon as I had eaten it, my belly was bitter.”‭‭Revelation‬ ‭10‬:‭10‬ ‭KJV‬‬The moment David begins reading the poem that opens the book, an unseen and despotic force focuses its attention on him from the formless place in which it lay. Inside the house, all of the soft groans and subtle creaking sounds of the background fade off into a predatory, crouching silence. Outside the house, nothing moves or shifts until a small cool breeze blows through, painting unknown hieroglyphs in the fields of flowers. Off in the woods, a weathered red shipping container full of bees becomes an agitated drone of fervently beating wings. David reads the nameless book and time slips by unnoticed, shoring itself up, back into whatever dark and impossible corner eternity lurks in. The innocuous shadows are rendered into horrid dysphemic shapes as they crawl across the ground with the rapidly setting sun. When next David looks up from the book, his eyes are red and dry and the outside world is dark. He has the overwhelming feeling of loss and disappointment, like he had begun some great epoch when he started reading, but never reached the grand culmination. He rubs his eyes. How long since he started reading? How long since he last blinked?… When he looks down at the book, it is open to the last page before the ones that were torn out. He consumed the entire thing in a manic state, yet he can’t remember anything he read. Again he feels that crushing feeling of loss, that he was immeasurably close to something - some vast and ultimate truth. He rubs his eyes and stands to stretch out his stiffened limbs.He realizes it is too late to drive home, so he reluctantly walks back to his old room to stay the night. He pulls back the covers and crawls into a small yet familiar bed and finds himself staring up at the ceiling as the dark corners encroach slowly, overtaking his entire field of vision. He is exhausted and feels as though he has undergone an intense ordeal. When he closes his eyes in his bedroom, he opens them in his dreams. He is staring out on a two toned world split by a featureless horizon; the sky an empty roiling gray, and the ground an ocean of dark green glass. He knows he is dreaming and yet is still terrified. His feet are planted on a strange slat beneath the surface of the still ocean water. He knows, in some type of inborn and primal sense, that this water should not be disturbed. Yet every fiber of his being desires to run, to flee from this alien place. He looks down at his feet and sees a seemingly endless deep. As he looks through the slats just under the water, to the eternal depths beneath, a shadow shifts below. Words form in his mind, forgotten from the nameless book, yet filed away somewhere in his subconscious: “…What lay below…” There are more words forming in his mind when he sees something large seeming to swim upward toward him. The next words never form as David screams in terror and, disturbing the pristine surface of the primordial ocean for the first time in eons, he takes a step backward.He slips soundlessly into the dim green water, falling down between the slats at the surface. An all-consuming quiet overtakes David as he sinks into the cold water. He looks above himself, grasping and reaching frantically for the light green surface as it recedes, the water growing darker and darker with his descent. The silence is shattered by an immense sound that can only have emanated from something prehistoric. It is low and prolonged and terrible. When David looks below himself in fear of that monstrous entity, he sees only darkness. Then, stretching forth across his field of vision, something even bigger moves in the depths. At the extent of his vision he sees a vast prehensile limb, reaching up out of the murky depths toward the surface. Directly below David, in the interminable depth, is a colossal maw yawning open so wide as to encompass the deep completely. He screams, expelling his lungs in terror. The reaching talon glides upward through the water, past David, and he sees it claw at the slats just below the surface. As David inhales the ancient waters, an ear-piercing screech cracks through the water. His dying thoughts feel like someone else’s as they sound off, a murmur in his mind, “… the darkness has both teeth and hands…”David awakes coughing and spluttering and sweating. He vomits up water and is bent over with more wracking coughs. When he is finally able to breathe, he notices he is not in his childhood bed. He slowly raises his head and sees nothing, only darkness. Not the murky depths of that horrid place, but a complete black void of nothing: total absence. When he calls out, his voice sounds as though it hits a wall just in front of him. He reaches out but finds nothing solid. Hesitantly, he takes a few steps forward and the entire world shifts impossibly. Gray and hazy outlines erupt from nowhere and seem to unfold into a familiar landscape. He finds himself looking out on a colorless mirror of something vaguely familiar. He recognizes the back of his fathers house, yet it appears distorted and open in the strange way of dreams. As he walks forward, the world maintains its form and the fragmented words of that nameless tome continue again, “…it lay in the hidden places…” He enters the house and walks to his old room, opening the door soundlessly. David sees himself lying down in the bed, with a white-knuckle grip on the covers and eyes clamped shut heavily. A feeling of disconnection and disbelief spreads through him as he sees his sleeping body struggle in the throes of a nightmare. He tries to wake himself, to no avail, and so he leaves, unable to watch any longer.The sky and the ground are both a textureless pitch-black, adorned by colorless features that appear familiar yet unknown. He wanders out into the woods, toward the shipping container, without knowing why. There, in a large hole, is the toppled shipping container, no longer red but a lifeless gray. The container sits half sunken into the ground, and a new set of words materializes in his mind, though he doesn’t know them or what they mean. His lips form the words, despite no willful act of his own “… this is why death abounds…” His eyes wander far away to see things that are not there. He is brought out of the unprompted reverie by the feeling of something tugging on his hands. He feels something heavy pulling on his arms, and when he looks down in fear, he sees that he has it backwards. Nothing is pulling at him, rather he is gripping the doors to the storage container and pulling on them to open. Before he can react, the doors open with a stymied heft and a muffled groan. There is nothing inside the container, but the darkness terminates at the back wall. The wall looks to be a black gateway, cut out from the material of reality. Through that doorway, things seem to move and shift and crawl. He is drawn in closer by an unseen force, feeling as though he is wading through mud. When he reaches the back, he hesitantly reaches a hand toward the doorway. His hand disappears into the vacuous gate, his arm terminating at the wrist. Once his hand disappears through the immaterial pool, he feels something. He slowly withdraws his hand, and it returns grasping something. He blinks once and sees himself reaching out toward a plain gray void. No, not a void, rather his bedroom ceiling: he is lying on his back staring up, with one hand raised in the air. He can feel the ghostly sensation in his fingers, as if he is holding… something, yet he can’t remember what it was.SIX“For the remembrance of me is sweeter than honey, and my inheritance sweeter than the honeycomb.”‭‭Sirach‬ ‭24‬:‭20‬ ‭RSV-C‬‬When David finally realizes he is awake, he lowers his stiffened arm. He is sweaty and cold and tired. When he thinks back to his dreams, the memory is hazy and fading rapidly. By the time he is back in the living room looking out on the piles of papers and books, he cannot remember any part of his dream. It feels as though the memory is receding into a dense fog and the more he tries to remember, the further it retreats. Instead of a memory, he is left with a vague impression of fear and an ominous mantra he doesn’t understand, “…the darkness has both teeth and hands…” He knows he has seen this phrase somewhere, but he cannot recall where. This reminds him of the journal he found in the shed. He sits at the kitchen table with a fresh cup of coffee he feels lucky to have scrounged up. He brings the journal to the table and flips it open, skimming through dozens of formulaic journal entries. Each one mentions the state of the hive, the amount of honey produced, the quality of the Queen, and if any varroa mites have been found. His father appears to have taken this hobby very seriously. As he reads through the entries however, the paranoia slowly becomes more visible.~Fruit tree hive is doing very well, may add additional honey super. The honey has a definite fruity tang - would like to experiment with this more. Varroa test yielded nothing, praise the Lord. Queen appears healthy and active, fresh eggs in the correct frame - fully capped.Healthy hive.Flower field hive is making a new Queen, can hear the difference in buzzing. Royal jelly is a fascinating thing. Honey production is fine, though not as many eggs being laid. If new Queen does not turn around the hive, may have to buy one. Found a few mites in the test, but not an alarming amount. Considering burning the whole hive to be safe. Maybe if new Queen fails.Struggling hive.Woods hive is doing well, should provide a sizeable boon of honey this season, though not as good as last year’s windfall. Won’t require a super, but should fill out the current. There is a small hive inside one of the trees out here, I think this hive may have swarmed and split. May try to get them into a hive box. May not be worth the trouble.Healthy hive.Truck hive is doing very poorly, a worrying case of DWV - will have to burn it and replace it sadly. Hopefully hasn’t spread to neighboring hives. The Lord giveth and He taketh away.Burn hive.Garden hive is doing well. Propolis was so thick,it broke my wooden hive tool - need to make another. This hive passes all self-functioning tests - should thrive without intervention.Healthy hive.~David reads the careful script of his fathers early entries. After reading a few, he begins skimming through. He realizes the handwriting begins deteriorating, and flips back to the first noticeable difference. He reads the entry leading up to it, and then a few of the ones with poor legibility. Strangely, the language becomes more drawn out and descriptive while the hand writing becomes more shaky and imprecise. The entries take on a disjointed and haphazard feel as the quality deteriorates:~Woods hive is thriving - need more healthy hives to be self-sustaining. At least three of them meet the criteria. Final trip to market this week, then cutting off contact. Broke ground on bunker but started to rain.Truck hive is lost cause. Will torch it when time allows. Shipping container has been delivered. Will begin fitting it immediately. Should be ready by years end, Lord willing.Found a book buried in front of house. Decided to move bunker to woods.This book is a gift from God, I have only just begun reading it, but I feel as though my eyes have been opened.My intentions have been deemed worthy and I have been blessed with the truth. The book is a wondrous revelation, I cannot stop reading it. I will never let it out of my sight. Such incredible truths.The book speaks to me sometimes, when it is dark. It whispers to me. It says ‘soon, very soon’. I weep at its silence and I weep at its words. When death kisses the earth, what else is there to do? No… the book is everything. It tells me what to do. Who am I that I should be called to such a task? Yet, here I am, Lord - send me.I am ready now for the promised land Do not dispose of me before the place is reached The work is nearly done despite the swarming of the bees They are jealous for my attentionThey want the book for themselves but they cannot have it they cannot have it THEY CANNOT HAVE ITThe book must have chosen this place in the woods guiding my hand this hole in the ground I will open the cage at last The bunker is a door the hole a gate the way is down I will open the cageI am coming for you Lord I will release you from your cage Protect me be thou my shield and though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death you maketh me to lie down in green pastures though death crouch in waiting like a lion for the darkness has both teeth and hands this is why death abounds yet I will fear no evil I will open the cage~The final words of the entry seem to break a subconscious dam in David:, a mental block formed by his sleeping mind to shield him from things too difficult to bear and too foreign to understand. It breaks and seems to let in a flood of inky darkness, and suddenly he is overwhelmed. He remembers the content of the gray book which he feverishly consumed in a manic state of delirium, he knows what the horrid chalk drawing is and why it gnaws at his soul, and he recalls every rancid detail of the awful nightmares that have plagued his restless nights. He stands so abruptly that the chair topples over, breaking the quiet morning with a thud. No, not morning any longer… he looks about with wide eyes and finds the world cloaked in the dark of night, or perhaps something even darker. His eyes return to stare at the words of the final entry, “… this is why death abounds…” The penultimate words of that dreaded poem that opens the nameless gray book… and now he remembers the truth of the universe: a truth once known by every person but collectively hidden away during the unchronicled past by crippled minds in a desperate attempt to prolong their feeble existence. He remembers and wishes he didn’t. David wept.SEVEN“He who is sated loathes honey, but to one who is hungry everything bitter is sweet.”‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭27‬:‭7‬ ‭RSV-C‬‬The abhorrent truth has implanted itself into his mind to fester like some sort of malignant infection. He feels the weight of the night sky pressing down on him, even through the walls of the house. The thought of exiting terrifies him to the core, yet he is being drawn by an irresistible urge. Pulled in by a need stronger than life: the need to know. When David finally blinks away his tears, he finds himself looking down on the nameless book, opened neatly to the beginning verse. He cannot remember getting or opening the book… As he strains to remember retrieving it, he becomes aware of a low and intense sound. A buzzing noise that seems to emanate from the book, and the walls of the house: perhaps even from inside his own head. Within moments he is standing at the door, looking out at the woods, feeling pulled in, as if on a hook. He looks at his hands and sees that he is holding the gray book, and he cannot remember having taken hold of it. He steps off the porch and walks toward the foreboding tree line, feeling as though every night star is one in a number of infinite piercing eyes watching his every move.The silhouettes of the trees are sinister veins of black spreading from the necrotic earth, up into the ancient night. The gray book seems to vibrate with intensity and the omnipresent drone of buzzing grows louder in his head. It is the sound of a ravenous plague of locusts, or the resounding wail of an angry horde of cicadas: it is a terrible insectile groan that presses louder with each step, matching the pulsing beat of his own heart. The book is cold in his hands. He can feel the wrongness of it, but he knows he couldn’t drop it if his life were dependent on the act. The eyes of nature watch as David walks nearer and nearer to the woods - or is it coming nearer to him? He is no longer sure if he is exerting his own will in moving closer, or if something else is: a doomed marionette drug forth to enact a final denouement by some loathsome black-string puppeteer. He can hear the external drone of the bees now, off in the distance, their fervent buzzing melding with the arterial drum of blood in his head.He lumbers mindlessly forth, into the black woods. He can hear a voice - his own voice, perhaps - reciting the poem of that nameless book. All the alien and unceasing noise melds with the poem in a cacophony of sound. Then, he is standing before the shipping container. He takes a step forward and hears a loud crunch. At the same time, all sound ceases abruptly, leaving a vacuous empty space where a powerful droning once was. There is the overwhelming buzz emanating from within and without, and then there is nothing. No sound of any kind. David looks at his feet and sees the unmoving bodies of honeybees, each of preternatural size. He feels as though something is now watching his every move, and he fears the gaze of that thing. He doesn’t know why, but he finds himself setting the book down on the ground. It is as if he is a passenger in his own body, watching the choices and actions from some darkened and removed place deep within himself. Once the book is on the ground, David feels a weight lift, as though some terrible affliction has been excised from him.The entire world has gone quiet. David steps forward, slowly and softly crushing the unavoidable forms beneath his boot; their exoskeleton crunch, the only sound in the world. As he approaches the hive, he becomes aware of a radiating heat, and perhaps even a glow, flowing from the container. He is close enough to touch it now, and he reaches out, placing a palm lightly against the corrugated metal. It is warm, almost hot even. He climbs onto the square face of the doors, now feeling the desire to know in all of its potency. He pulls desperately at the latch, but there is a thick and viscous resistance. He will never be able to open this door on his own. Just then, there is a horrendous sound like the rending of flesh; a squelching, tearing, suction. David falls backward off the container and watches in terror as an unseen force opens the hive. The sticky seal gives way as the container’s two heavy doors slowly swing wide open. Both doors then begin to fall away on their hinges, and slam into the sides of the container, sending a horde of angry insects up out of the hive. Bees are thick in the air and their agitated droning is oppressive, yet he pays them no mind. David climbs up onto the container and steps onto the hive, sinking down through the honeycomb like a sweet warm mud.He begins digging with his hands, burrowing deeper into the hive while thousands of honeybees cause the air to vibrate and shake. The hive has been built in a natural descending formation, and David claws his way down in search of answers. He is covered in a thick and raw honey that makes it difficult to move. The bees are buzzing away with a loud, hellacious roar. But David isn’t worried about the bees. He knows they are merely the canaries in this coal mine of death. He thinks he knows what they are safeguarding, what nature has sought to hide away. Yet, he must see for himself. He has an all-consuming desire - a burning need - to get to it. He rips and tears his way through layers of honeycomb and wax until his hand grazes something hard. He digs away at it and slowly reveals a wooden shelf-like structure. He burrows his hands deep into the waxy substance, his fingers prodding something rubbery. A strange and unaccountable feeling imposed from without, tells him that this is the object of his search. The bees drone on and crawl about with vibrating wings, generating a heat that causes David to sweat profusely.With eager fingers and sweat-slicked skin, he excavates a fleshy mound that resolves itself into a human hand. He digs and scrapes and claws away until the front of his father is exposed from the honeycomb. His eyes are hollowed out caverns and the Queen crawls slowly out from inside the skull. His father’s skin and hair have been preserved by wax and honey, and the look of terror that his father’s life ended with is still palpably visible. Clutched greedily in the fingers of the other hand is something thin and fine. As David uncovers the hand he gets stung for the first time. It burns like a small, hot needle piercing his skin. Then there is the strange and unaccountable scent of bananas. Immediately, thousands of blinding hot points of pain explode all across his body. The bees expend their life in nature’s final attempt at burying what should not be. David’s swollen fingers finally uncover his fathers claw-like hand and he finds it full of papers. His vision begins to darken at the edges and the pain becomes unbearable. He is barely able to register the torn edges on the few dozen pieces of paper. He sees, through pain-blurred vision, the instructions for a ritual, ripped out from the nameless book. Then everything turns black. Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

I wrote this story about four years ago. It was originally titled Who Heard the Sound. The title was a line from a poem I wrote which linked five stories together. I rewrote the poem so that the stories had more interesting names. My intent was to rewrite each story, but I came to realize that rewriting old stories is a slippery slope. So here is the original.34 Hours: Post-ExposureA heart monitor sits in the corner of the sterile room, a thin, banal line stretched straight across its screen like a horizon. There are a variety of other machines populating the brightly lit room. Each machine has tubes and wires attached to a bare male body. The wires trail across the ground in indecipherable patterns, an alien calligraphy bleeding forth from the body of the man. There are thick leather straps restraining the arms, torso, and legs, with restraints on the forehead as well. The head is wrapped in bandages that leave only a slit where the eyes are. The flatline of the heart monitor has been adapted to remove the flatline beep, giving off only its pale green light and no sound at all. The other machines beep and whir, and expel air in soft hisses, like the sighs of the overworked. Now comes the protracted sound of a zipper being undone, and then a doctor steps into the room through the white zipper door. She steps through and then reseals the decontamination chamber behind her.She is wearing what looks like a beekeeper’s outfit, concealing every inch of skin, and is carrying a bag of implements. She walks over to the body strapped to the bed, crinkling and lumbering the whole way. She has no peripheral vision, and moves her whole upper body to look around. She positions herself in front of the open eyes of the body, then she waves her hand slowly back and forth in front of the glassy eyes, a careful and almost hypnotic gesture. From within the bandages, the open eyes track the movements of her hand like soulless cameras, and then fix on her clear face mask with an empty gaze. The eyes are bleary and red, irritated from remaining open so long. While the doctor checks the machines and monitors, the unblinking and reddened eyes carefully follow her every move. The flatline indicative of death continues to rest idly on the monitor, and the eyes still follow. The doctor returns to the side of the bed and begins to very carefully unwrap the bandages from around the man’s head.The gauze comes away white at first, then it slowly starts to turn a yellow color, then a deep rust color. As the doctor unwraps the binding, it begins to cling slightly to itself, then more heavily to the wounds underneath. After all the bindings are removed, there is left a patchwork of spidery fabric that renders the man a scarecrow in disrepair. The doctor throws the gauze away in a red biohazard container, then removes eye drops from her bag. She carefully empties a full dropper of liquid into each eye, all while the eyes stare at her without blinking or flinching. When she is finished, the man strikes a ghastly image: like a rag doll crying tears of blood down its shredded face. The doctor takes a fresh roll of gauze from her bag and begins the careful process of rewrapping the man’s head, save for the eyes. When she finishes the wrap, she places the remaining roll in her bag and brings out a small board for writing on. The doctor writes in chicken-scratch handwriting, the words, “Hello, Mr. Ward”. The eyes watch the board without reaction.1 Hour: Pre-ExposureThe top results displayed on the web browser show rocks of all varieties and colors, each strange and unique. Ward closes his laptop, removes his glasses and places them on top of the computer, and rubs his tired eyes. He doesn’t want to look over at the rock, but he cannot help himself. It possesses a certain magnetism that he cannot account for. His eyes dart over to where the strange stone hunk sits on his desk, no larger than a fist, like an overzealous paperweight. He feels as though it pulls his gaze toward itself, exerting some primeval power over his own will. The strange etchings on the front are completely foreign to him and he has found nothing in his searches online. He slides his desk chair over to where the rock sits, and stares at it intently. He gazes at it intimately, searching out its every crevice, and he can’t help but feel that it is gazing back. He has hardly let it out of his sight, and finds it hard to tear his gaze away once it is fixed there. It is a pitch-black obsidian with a few strange spots of a muted gray color, like industrial cement. The front is smooth, while the remainder is raw edged. It features three perfect right angles, all meeting in a point. But there is something strange in the behavior of those angles, they appear warped from afar, and razor straight up close. The rest of it resembles raw and natural rock, though not a rock he has ever seen before. He rubs his thumb along one of the edges, and when he looks at the ridges of his finger print, he finds it is bleeding. He stares, bewildered, and fails to notice the gray spots of the stone grow. As he stares at his thumb, he feels a creeping sensation in his muscle, almost tingly. The strange shiver runs up the length of his arm and then he is hit with a sudden pang of pain in his right temple. The shiver subsides and he feels nothing strange, except… there’s a different sensation. Like something lurking in his mind that does not belong.He looks to the rock and finds it entirely gray, seemingly drained. He begins to regard the rock not just with suspicion, but with tinges of fear. Almost as if in response to this, he feels sinister tendrils begin to writhe in his mind. They seem to pulse and thrash with inimical intent and his head begins to hurt terribly. It is more than a headache, it feels like something physically inside him. He backs away from the stone in pain and fear, never shifting his gaze away. As he backs away, he notices with trepidation that the rock appears to grow in size. His back makes abrupt contact with his office wall and the rock stops growing - no, not growing… but rather, appearing the same size, no matter its distance. Like a malevolent blotch on Euclidean geometry. Suddenly, he feels those terrible undulating tendrils in his mind cease to move, poised. A preternatural calm falls over him like a morning fog. Ward stares at the strange stone with an intense longing and revulsion, mixed together unnaturally like some horrible concoction contrived in a laboratory.Slowly, he takes halting steps toward the rock, still keenly aware of those black tendrils gripping his mental faculties. They remain frozen, poised to attack at the slightest provocation. The rock retains its fist-like size, despite his increase in proximity. He can feel something impressing itself onto his mind; words, or thoughts perhaps. Are these his own thoughts, or are they foreign in origin? He grasps, through inlaid images, the founding of this universe, like the building of an intricate puzzle and the placing of each piece; an explosion, or more like an unfolding, of light and matter and energy. And he knows, somehow, that in this account of all the matter in the universe, the strange stone is not a factor. It is an unaccounted piece from another puzzle entirely: it does not belong here. A mote that has gone untallied in the great conservation of energy, stowing away in this universe. As these facts take shape in his mind, he becomes aware of himself again, and he is holding his face very near to the stone. He can hear a very faint sound emanating from it, unrecognizable and complex: like the sound of wailing, spirited away on a cold breeze from some far away place.34 Hours: Post-ExposureThe small board reads, “Hello, Mr. Ward” and is then erased. The doctor in the strange hazmat suit then begins writing on the board again. When she flips the board around it says, “ We’re going to run some tests”. She stares at Ward’s eyes, searching them out for any sign of complicity in this plan, but they appear devoid of all will. Yet she has a strange unaccountable feeling that they are pleading with her, screaming mutely for some sort of intercession. The long zipping sound indicative of entry calls the attention of the doctor. Two men in white hazmat suits enter the room and seal it off with the zipper. All three doctors confer away from the body of Mr. Ward, whose unblinking eyes watch on undaunted. The female doctor returns and writes on her board, “Understand?” Then the eyes dart to the left and to the right, then back to the doctor. She looks quizzically at this new motion of the glassy eyes, which are typically content to stay trained on her at all times.Intrigued, she writes something new on her board while the other two doctors prepare tests to the side. When she shows the board again it has a double headed arrow pointed up and down and another arrow pointed left and right. The word “yes?” is written next to the vertical arrow, and the word “no?” is written beside the horizontal arrow. The eyes dart rapidly to the ceiling and to the floor several times, then train back onto the doctor’s face shield. The female doctor calls out to the other two, who stop what they are doing and move over to where she is and watch: silent spectators to the strange exhibit. She speaks and shows them the board, then faces it toward Mr. Ward’s beady eyes. Again, they oscillate upward and downward like a child’s yo-yo, and then retrain on the female doctor’s face. The other two doctors step away and converse, but the female doctor stays and begins writing something new on her board. She feverishly scribbles and the eyes stay fixated on her, as if looking upon her soul.As she turns the board around, her face betrays a certain level of disguised excitement at this breakthrough. The eyes look to the board and seem to pause, staring at the question that is written there: “May we perform tests?” Then they dart to the left and then to the right, but it appears to be a hesitant movement. The doctor’s excitement lapses and she sits in thought. She then begins writing something new on the board with a scrunched face. When she turns it around, the eyes focus on it and read, “Answer questions?” This time the response is quick and sure, a glance to the ceiling and a glance to the floor, repeated several times. The doctor turns the board and thinks for a short time before scrawling her next question. She appears to pour great care into the inquisition and when the board is turned this time, the handwriting is neat and stiff. She looks searchingly at the eyes of Mr. Ward as they read the thin phrase, “Did you hurt yourself?”ExposureThe thin tendrils maintain a hold on his mind, but then he hears something. A soft arterial pulse flowing from the rock, seeming to pour out like a liquid. It’s a sound unlike anything he has ever heard, low and conspiring, like the whispers of children in church. Yet, it is faint. It is so ethereal that he lowers his ear toward the rock, attempting to discern those ancient secrets which it wishes to tell. It is in the act of lowering his ear to the rock when everything happens. One moment he is sitting at his desk, and the next sensation is that of an unfurling. The closest thing he has felt to this is the act of floating parallel to water, and then standing vertically out of it. The sensation of looking into one world and then folding backward out of it, but still able to view it, only slightly distorted. He sees his desk somewhere in front of him, but it appears somehow far away and below him, and not at the same time. Everything is dark and colorless, drained of every hue and outlined in white. The only things not reduced to dull variations of gray are the shadows. They are the very absence of material existence: a blackness so complete, it looks cut away from reality.Ward turns to look around and everything seems to whirl by and bend its shape. He attempts to cower away in fear, but when he takes a step backward, he is suddenly and inexplicably outside of his office and underground. He is inside the void of shadows now and looking out at the underside of his basement. Yet, he can still see his desk and the contents of his office. He feels a queasy sensation and bends over with his hands on his knees. This terrible darkness threatens to overwhelm him, but then he hears the sound. A whisper. No longer the inference of sound, but the full presence. It is like the sound of dead branches in a cold wind. There is a creaking quality, but it drones and varies in pitch in a way only living things can. Those malicious tendrils in his mind actually cower back and release their horrid grip there. He turns just slightly to the left and sees… something. It is moving, almost swimming, through this liminal darkness. His mouth slackens and his eyes widen and eventually, he screams.The noise of that horrible dweller of the void feels like a tangible thing, reverberating through the black space. The sound waves ripple toward him, visible to the naked eye, yet immaterial. He sees them slither to him and then he feels them. They feel alive and physical, like sharp writhing worms. They are incorporeal blades, slicing down his auditory canal and stabbing at his ear drum. He screams in horror and pain, then he feels the trickle of blood run down the sides of his head.The sight of that thing is near enough to drive him mad, but the sound. That unbearable sound. It is omnipotent and omnipresent and terrifying. He feels his sanity splinter and his eardrums nearly burst completely. Suddenly he feels his arms rushing toward his head and he can’t say if he is the one moving them. His fingers jab into his ears so deep that it proves detrimental to his eardrums. He feels pain yet, relief. No longer able to hear, yet still in shock at the things his eyes behold, he stumbles backward in sheer terror. Despite the inimitable sensation of falling back, he never hits the solid surface he was standing on. Instead, everything shifts again as he stumbles backward. Endless black emptiness folds inward like a wave crashing on top of him as he falls. He seems to fall through an eternity and for eons of time unreckoned. He watches the world shrink and shift and blur, until the folding of those impossible angles finally resolves.34 Hours: Post-ExposureThe board reads, “Did you hurt yourself?” and the doctor watches the eyes. They look to the left, to the right, and then back to her own eyes. She appears vindicated then, as she erases and writes a new question. As she writes, she fails to notice one of Mr. Ward’s eyes seem to be pulled down to the left, only to jerk back to the position of its twin. When the board is turned this time, it reads, “Did someone else hurt you?” The eyes of Mr. Ward consider and then look to the ceiling, to the floor, and back to the doctor. The doctor turns the board and appears frustrated for a moment. She writes something, but reconsiders and starts over. As she turns the board around, her face takes on a very analytical look. She probes and searches out the response of the eyes as they read, “Are your injuries self-inflicted?” The eyes stare at the question, then stare at the doctor. Finally, the eyes look to the ceiling, then to the floor, but only one looks back up to the doctor.Seeing the eyes dart upward and then downward, the doctor seems satisfied. Then, the left eye appears to meet resistance, like something is tugging on it. As the doctor watches, the eye is pulled down and the iris disappears completely below the socket, a horrid mock sunset. She is shocked and scared, so she calls out to the other doctors. All three of them witness, or think they witness, thin dark tendrils emerge ever-so-slightly above the lower eyelid, like the needly spines of some hidden fish. Beads of sweat begin to form on Mr. Ward’s forehead. Then, with great effort it would seem, the iris begins to surface, emerging from the grips of whatever sinister thing held it captive. Both eyes stare at the doctor, and then the eyelids slowly begin to close, like the sealing of two vault doors. The doctors watch as the face remains expressionless and placid, while the eyes seem to plead in terror. There is no subtle wince or minute shifting of facial muscles, yet the eyes themselves convey pure and unadulterated fear.The eyelids clamp closed with all the slow finality of ancient temple doors, barring the world from entering. As they close for the first time in 34 hours, the doctors try to shake off their unease. The two men return to the final preparations of their tests, and the woman stares at the closed eyes. She is certain that the eyes were afraid, but of what, she cannot determine. The other doctors return and after a pause, they undo the lower strap across the body’s right wrist. No movement. The first doctor begins to treat the few injuries the right hand sustained, meanwhile the other doctor begins to draw blood from the left arm. The right hand is missing some of the fingernails and appears to have a few broken fingers. The doctor at the left arm inserts the syringe into the vein, and the right arm twitches. The female doctor notices this with a growing sense of dread and unease. When the syringe penetrates the vein, the doctor pulls the stopper to draw blood. Instead a black ropey thing is pulled slightly into the clear syringe. The doctor isn’t certain, but she thinks she sees it move inside the syringe.First Hour: Post-ExposureThe world knits itself back together out of the darkness, and Ward falls into it. He is dropped out of thin air onto a cafeteria table inside a shopping mall. The security feeds show a spectral shade that seems to un-dissipate into a solid being and fall onto a table. Several patrons scream, though Ward hears nothing. He can feel himself screaming in his throat and his head, but it is only the dull vibration of soundless fear. The vivid memory of that grotesque noise plays like a broken record in his mind, the last thing his ears ever heard. The beast of that liminal space still swims across his vision, seared onto his mind’s eye like a hot brand. He is unaware of the commotion around him. As he screams silently, he instead becomes aware of the tendrils in his mind. They crawl back across his mind, glorying in the absence of that which laid in the void. They begin to grip more tightly and delve into his brain. He feels his throat vibrating with the raw exertion of horror-filled screams, and then it ceases abruptly.He can feel his face and arms slacken, despite his increasing dread that the horrors are only just beginning. The thing in his mind pulses with halting and maladroit movements until it seizes upon the desired sections of his brain. Fine, sharp, fingers bore into his gray matter and insert themselves in his mind like knives into raw meat. He sees, in a dreamlike haze of pain and confusion, a pair of hands rising up in front of him. They are his own hands. He realizes this as they turn their open palms toward his eyes, fingers curled like prehensile claws. He can’t believe they are his own hands, yet he feels them, even as they move of their own volition. He tries to back away from the claw-like hands - his hands - but he takes a few jarring steps and then his legs cease to move. He realizes with abject terror that he is slowly losing control of each part of his own body. Yet, he can feel everything. It’s as if he has become a marionette in the clutches of a sadistic force.He watches his own hands claw at his face, the fingernails sinking deep into the flesh - his flesh - like the skin of an orange, and then pulling down in tearing motions. He can feel the unbelievable pain of his own hands peeling back layers of skin in rigid clawing actions. He wants nothing more than to scream, but cannot control his own body. He feels a fingernail tear off as it gets caught on his cheek bone. He cannot blink or wince or cry. He sees people screaming soundlessly and fleeing from him in horror, yet he cannot move: he is a captive audience to the play, a tragic maiming of his own self. The hands rip and tear at his face with alacritous movements, eager to end any vestigial control he has over his body. He watches a hand covered in detritus and blood approach his right eye in slow, determined motion. As the fingernails bite into the skin above his eyebrow, he feels a heavy impact that sprawls his body out horizontally. He can just barely see in his peripheral vision, several people holding his body down and mercifully restraining the claw-like hands - his hands. An eternity later, first responders are on the scene, sedating him.He feels the surreal sensation of drifting away from his corporeal form, despite exacting no control over it. His eyelids shutter and the denouement of that horrible scene is finally enacted. His mind enters a deep sleep that is punctuated with strange dreams and accented with moments where reality bleeds through. He finds himself looking out at a vast expanse of green and gray. An ocean, so still it appears impermeable, stretches to the zenith of his vision. A dull gray sky, with clouds that portend a nascent storm, looms overhead and reaches down with a cumulus hand to meet the glass ocean at the pinnacle of sight. This primordial sea is all there is, and it bears up only one omnifarious thing: ahead lays a towering obelisk. It is an obsidian black with pock marks of a pale gray alabaster. It is beautiful and massive and unsettling. It stretches upward so far beyond his discernment that it does not seem to end in its ascent. He knows, in some inexplicable way, that his own strange stone came from this monolith. And he is aware in the same way that it ought not be broken: that the strange and featureless monolith must remain whole, at all costs.He looks down at his feet and sees that he is standing on a narrow slat-like pedestal, only four or five feet long, and six inches below the surface. Ahead of him there are dozens more of these slat-like steps, leading directly to the monolith. Things move and swim below, immense and ancient things. He knows that beneath him lies that terrible space, the place in which he heard that unforgettable sound, like the groaning of a celestial body. He knows that if he moves, he will disturb this antediluvian water irrevocably, yet he yearns to draw nearer - or perhaps it yearns for him. He stands perfectly still and simply gazes at the monolith, with the longing eyes of a lover scorned, not daring to move. Hours pass by as he stands there in awe of the alien pillar in the sea. It towers so high it appears to hold up the firmament itself. The hours accrete into an entire day that quietly slips by unnoticed. Still he stares at the obelisk. Stars and galaxies and worlds pass by overhead, all of them foreign and uncharted by mankind. But he pays them no mind, instead watching the obelisk. Things move below his feet, and he heeds them not. The thin line of horizon stretches across his vision like a razor and the monolith rises, unending, in the center. In the fluctuating time of dreams, he stares in an unwavering gaze. Six days and six nights pass by, and he only moves to breath - perhaps not even for that. Then on the seventh day, the horizon splits and begins to yawn open slowly, revealing another world behind it. It opens with his eyelids and reveals a sterile room; the shape of the monolith, replaced by the attentive form of a female doctor in something like a bee-keepers suit.35 Hours: Post-ExposureThe dark sinewy shape in the syringe begins writhing and retracting itself back inside the man’s arm. All three doctors gasp and recoil in shock as the dendritic ebony snake recedes, like some serpent of old, reluctantly forced to rear its terrible head. The right hand jerks upward in a paroxysm of force, snapping the small metal pin that held the leather strap across the bicep. The arm flails and claws at the doctors, then begins to beat heavily at the patient’s head. The doctors hesitate for only a moment, then they restrain the hand and latch the wrist strap tight against it. It convulses and writhes with inhuman undulations, as if it were some deep sea invertebrate. But the wrist strap holds, until the arm finally ceases it’s thrashing. One of the doctors locates the sedative and approaches with the syringe. The moment the doctor lays a hand on the arm however, all hell breaks loose. The head of Mr. Ward appears to fold itself back and down, audibly snapping the neck to escape the strap across the forehead. In the process, the bandages around the head are loosened and begin dropping away. Within an instant, nearly all 32 ivory blades of Ward’s mouth are embedded into the doctor’s arm under 200 pounds of pressure. The jaw seems to latch like a vice and the doctor howls in pain, beating at the head with his free hand.The other man rushes to his side, but the woman rushes away, over to the devices and tools on the counter. She returns within moments and inserts a syringe into the body’s restrained left arm, depressing the plunger completely. A lethal dose of potassium chloride floods the veins of the body, but this does little to deter the hold the teeth have on the doctor. The head begins to thrash like a large reptile with hapless prey in its maw. It appears spineless and fluid as it swishes aggressively this way and that. The doctor screams and cries and pleads as several inches of his arm are mutilated horribly. The female doctor freezes for a moment, then acts on an impulse and bolts to the corner of the room. The male doctor continues to unsuccessfully pry at the impenetrable jaws. The female doctor returns with a fist-sized stone that was found with Ward in the food court. It looks pale gray and drained. When the stone is brought near, the head ceases its thrashing. The doctor continues crying, holding his captive limb. Then the jaws snap open, leaving the dislocated lower half hanging in a broken and terrible gasp. The jowls are torn away and drip with a dark liquid. The stone begins to darken slightly with its increasing proximity, until the female doctor finally touches it to the thigh of the body.There is a strange whispering sound that floods the room, seeming to exude from every object and surface. Though the content and meanings are indiscernible, the doctors tremble at the words. Then the body seems to almost deflate, losing some aspect or substance that filled it and gave it form. The stone blackens steadily with contact until it is a pitch-black obsidian color, like the embers of some ancient sacrificial fire long gone cold. The head lolls to the side in a grotesque and impossible position, the gauze wrappings hanging loosely around the skull. The gaps in the bandages reveal glistening white bone and strips of flesh dripping crimson life. Then the seemingly lifeless eyelids slowly open, revealing those mysterious twin blackholes. They stare at the doctor holding the stone. She stares back into those small voids of unplumbed depth and she thinks, perhaps, they appear relieved. The eyes never close again.Almost no feature of the rock can be visibly discerned now and no part of Ward’s body moves anymore. The doctor is afraid to remove the stone from the thigh, for fear that some arcane spell will be broken - yet, reluctantly she does so. Nothing happens. She hastily deposits the stone into her bag and it makes no sound as it lands, then she tends to the wounded doctor. She calmly sits him down and forcefully tells the other doctor to mind the body oh Ward. She reaches into her bag in search of gauze, without thinking. She recoils slightly but then in horror she feels around more thoroughly. When she pulls the bag to herself and looks inside, there is only gauze, no stone. She looks around for a moment, but the cries of the wounded doctor require her attention. The stone falls out of this spatial dimension and through the liminal void of that dark interior space. It lands in another place entirely and begins to thrum with intent as it sits patiently.Stories of the Poem: Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(I wrote this about four years ago, posted it here once, then later removed it with the intent of rewriting it, now I’m posting it again unrewritten because I am still proud of it for where I was as an author and I have lots of other stories I want to tell.)The boat dips and bobs, as much from the partygoers overhead as the deep choppy waters they’ve drifted into. Below deck, smells of vomit and yeast permeate the cabin. There is also a faint odor redolent of dead fish. The steady thump of bass from the blown-out speakers overhead does little to assuage the man’s mounting nausea. The guttural urge to puke burbles up from the pit of his stomach, while boisterous cheers erupt above-deck. When he stumbles out from the cabin and toward the back of the swaying boat, the muffled sounds of cheers shift into semi-discernible chants and jeers. He reaches the back of the boat as bile and half-digested food spews out of his mouth. His stomach muscles contract and convulse, expelling their contents into the shifting ocean with plops and splashes. Wiping his mouth, he feels another surge of dizziness and is quickly bent over the railing, emptying the remains of his gut.With his head over the edge and the thud of bass seeming to squeeze his entrails, he fails to hear the motors rev slightly. As he dry-heaves and spits, the boat accelerates suddenly. Before the man even realizes what is happening, he is pitched forward over the railing and into the sea. He plunges headfirst into a world of cool black water, where the only sound is the fading drone of the inboard motor. The man breaks the surface of the water, spluttering and confused. When he finally realizes what has happened, the hum of bass and flash of lights shrinks into the distance with the receding boat. He lets out a feeble cry for the boat to wait, but it goes unheeded. Wading at the surface, an almost total darkness overtakes him, along with a feeling of fear. The bone-white glow of the moon and the tiny pinpricks of starlight are his only source of illumination.There are no objects within any directional view, and his feeling of fear deepens into the pit of his stomach. The man treads water and his fear rapidly evolves to terror as his total isolation sets in. He shouts and yells into an indifferent night air. When he finally exhausts his lungs, he is met with a new feeling: the feeling of being stalked from below. What if something, dozens of feet below, is watching his swishing limbs at the surface? Frantically he searches the horizon again, spinning and thrashing. Something catches his eye and when he looks back to the spot, he can just make out the small black silhouette of something far off, something with a more rigid penumbra. He looks around again for something closer though he sees nothing but the undulating waves of the blue-black ocean.He begins kicking water and frantically propelling his way toward the shadow. His heart is in the maniacal grip of an atavistic fear, and his movements are panicked. He hopes and prays and pleads to the disinterested night sky that whatever the shadow ahead is, it is solid and big enough to stand on. Every forceful kick of his feet sends phantom signals to his brain telling him he’s kicked something, or something has bumped into him. He has begun crying from sheer terror, and through his blurry vision and sobs he sees that he is getting closer to the looming shadowy object. On approach to the outline, he can tell it is solid, but it is not a boat. It is unmoving as far as he can tell, whereas anything floating would rock on its keel. He blinks away the tears and stares at the dark shadow. Unconsciously, he slows his paddling. The shape of the shadow has finally solidified into a discernible outline, but it can’t be that - that wouldn’t make any sense… It must be a buoy, or a mile marker - do they have those in the open ocean? Yet, he knows it isn’t any of those things.He is about 30 feet from the shadow and there is no longer any doubt as to its shape: before him is an immense mushroom, not unlike a portabella. It rises at least eight feet out of the water, like some alien monolithic pillar to a temple long sunken. The color of the fleshy stem is the dingy yellow that white things get after a long time exposed to the elements. That’s just what he is out here -- exposed -- the only omnifarious speck on an otherwise featureless blue landscape; other than this strange growth, that is. He stares at the damp neck of the mushroom, which plumes up into the empty sky above him. The cap at the top of the stem must be at least eight or ten feet across. He is suddenly reminded of neglected teeth, but he isn’t sure exactly why - perhaps the color? He has unwittingly stopped swimming towards it, treading water about ten feet away. His long dormant fear of deep water, momentarily forgotten in the wake of such a discordant sight.The entire thing unsettles him. Despite being the only solid object for miles, he finds himself unaccountably reluctant to touch the thing. He swims slowly closer; however, the sight becomes even stranger as his proximity increases. The underside of the mushroom is faintly luminescent, with the sleepy red-orange heat of hot coals. As he watches the underside, he notices a slow pulsing to the crepuscular glow, exactly like the tail end of a cigarette smoked in the dark. …the grimy yellow of bad teeth… It even seems to radiate with the timing of regular breathing. It is very unsettling to watch. He cautiously swims closer, all panic and terror leached away by the sight of this bizarre ocean mushroom. He doesn’t want to touch it, let alone climb it, but his fear of the ocean begins to return as his shock wears off. Hesitantly, he swims up to it and when he is within touching distance, he feels a faint heat emanating from within the fungus.Gingerly, he places his open palm against the warm stem. Once he makes contact with it, he feels his reserves melt away with the warmth. Why was he so hesitant to touch it anyway? Now that he is underneath the cap of it, the vague crimson glow is much more salient. Below the transient heat of the mushroom’s cap, he realizes the task of climbing atop it will be exceedingly difficult. He wraps his legs around the trunk - it is much more of a trunk than a stem - and squeezes it with his thighs. There is a slight give to the flesh of the trunk, and his legs leave an impression that makes it easier to hold on. Cautiously, he pulls himself up the stem - his arms just barely reaching around to touch on the other side. The glabrous trunk is soft and smooth, yet it isn’t difficult to climb. He very quickly ascends high enough that his head is brushing against the underside of the cap.The dark lines of frills against the subtle glow of the cap give an otherworldly effect. The frills are soft, radiating outward, and they give off a sickly-sweet scent. The smell reminds him of hospice and beds on wheels. He gingerly reaches his hand backward, blindly groping for the edge of the cap. His fingertips find the lip, just as he loses purchase and splashes down into the water. He tries again with several more unsuccessful attempts. This time he climbs the trunk as high as he can manage, with his head lost in the forest of soft fringes. The bitter-sweet smell is almost overwhelming. He places his hand against the underside of the cap, then punches as hard as he can. There is a dull oomph sound with the contact, almost as if the fungus groans softly, and the man feels his fist sink into the cap. With a few dozen more well-placed strikes, he’s through. The man’s hand bursts out of the topside of the mushroom like a restless corpse.Slowly and with great effort, the rest of the man emerges from the widening hole. He climbs up and out, slimy and covered in small bits of spongy plant-matter. He lays down atop the cap, curling himself into the smallest size he can manage. He is assaulted by an impossible need to burst into tears and to laugh with joy. He is out of the water, and suddenly his fear shows itself for the irrational reaction it is. The man oscillates between laughing and sobbing, drinking in the warmth of the mushroom. After his exhausting climb and his bout with manic-depressive hilarity, he finds himself drifting off into a shallow sleep. His dreams are disturbing and ethereal; strange and familiar. He is running on the surface of the ocean but can’t keep his footing because of the waves and ripples. Each time he falls, the sea begins to engulf him, making him feel as though it were trying to consume him. The final time he falls, the water fully overtakes him, and he sinks slowly into a rapidly darkening world. He reaches upward and watches the soft blue light of the surface darken and disappear.He awakens in a cold sweat on the top of the mushroom, with both arms over the edge reaching toward the water below. He recoils from the edge with a gasp and shrinks back to the center of the cap. That’s when he notices the sun going down on the horizon ahead. But that’s impossible, he couldn’t have dozed off for more than 20 minutes… Then he realizes the place he is curled up on must have a gaping hole in it from where he climbed through. Yet there is no hole anywhere on the surface of the cap - just the soft, bumpy flesh of the strange mushroom. He feels around, checking for some kind of imperfection that would mark the place he mutilated the fungus, but there’s nothing. That unaccountable desire to laugh returns and the man begins to rock himself atop his perch.Beneath the stifled laughter and sobs, another feeling rises on the man’s gut. It is as unfamiliar to him as the fungus: the feeling of hunger. Sea sickness and fear have wracked his body so thoroughly that the feeling is unexpected. As gray clouds sweep higher into the sky, and the sun melts into an unseen line just above the water, the man begins to lose hope. He will die here, atop this horrible growth in the ocean and no one will ever find him. The orange disk of light bathes everything in amber, transforming the ocean into a sea of blood. Silent lightning flashes in the nascent storm clouds. The man lays down on his side, though his eyes remain open, and he does not sleep. The storm blocks all celestial lights when it arrives sometime later as he lay there. It is a monsoon that falls on him like a physical blow. He can’t see it, save for the occasional flashes of lightning, but he can hear it coming and passing against the surface of the water.He lays that way, silently enduring the doldrums, as time passes him unseen, until hunger and thirst dominate his thoughts completely. He inches over to a slight concavity in the mushroom where rainwater has pooled. He sucks it up greedily and feels his thirst evaporate. Then, without ever really deciding to, he crawls to the edge and breaks off a chunk of the mushroom and places it into his mouth. It has a strong salty quality and leaves a bitter aftertaste of iron in his mouth, as if he bit his lip. The small chunk he consumes is enough to sate his hunger, and he makes to crawl back to the center of the mushroom. However, before he does, something catches his eye. Below him in the water, something seems to shift - the faint shadow of some unseen thing. He can’t tear his eyes off the spot; all his fears of the ocean well up inside him.As he stares unblinkingly at the shadow, it slowly dawns on him what he is seeing. There below the surface, perhaps ten feet or less, lay the cap to another mushroom. The harder he stares, the more certain he is that there are dozens of mushrooms below the surface. He can see fleeting shadows and faint phosphorescent glows if he stares long enough. He retracts his head from the edge of the mushroom and curls up at the center. He has no idea why, but he finds himself horrified at the prospect of those deathly plumes sleeping just below the ocean surface. He holds himself tight and lays on his side. Eons seem to float by and yet he does not move. At some point he slips away into a restless sleep. He dreams of a boy isolated and stranded on a tall mushroom in the sea, but the sea has all drained away.The man dreams of the boy on his promontory, overlooking a barren land of ridges and canyons where water once pooled. He watches the boy from some undefined place high above, as in the peculiar way of dreams. He watches the boy look down from his minute plateau, to gaze at the lower shapes of growth rising from the dark and dry sea floor. He knows that there is no life anywhere in the world, but that everything has been emptied out - or perhaps never filled in the first place. And in the way of dreams, the man becomes aware of a thing down there in the dark - a thing that has always been aware of him. The man’s stare bores a hole through the darkness, and he finds a point to fixate on. Something down there waxes and wanes with an almost alchemical glow; like some arcane power thrumming out terrible truths in an inimitable dirge.The glowing point widens, and the man can feel an eldritch presence fixate on him, then it roves onward to other things; more consequential things than he. In the brief and eternal moment it fixated on him, he became intimately aware of his size in the universe, and it was no size at all. The boy that was on the mushroom berm has dissipated into the substance of dreams, and now the man finds himself on the mushroom, gazing over the edge into an empty alien landscape. Down there, where he can sense the omnipotent eye and in the varying degrees of darkness, he can discern shifts in the darkness that insinuate a living thing. But as he begins to discern its quality, he awakens on the top of the mushroom, staring down over the edge into the ocean. On the surface of the water, he catches a glimpse of his reflection and his face appears to glow. Then he realizes it is just another of the pale lights emanating from yet another mushroom. He cowers away from the edge back to the center of the mushroom and makes vows to never sleep here again - vows he cannot and will not keep.Again, he lays motionless while time unquantifiable passes by. Another storm pours over the area and water fills the spaces between the tubercles atop the shroom. He drinks mindlessly and eats spongey hunks of the integumentary matter, almost hoping that it proves poisonous. All the while he obsessively contemplates the depths of the sea and the mysterious therein. Such monsters as that featured in his dream could not exist, for the world could not go on as it was in the presence of such a thing. When he sleeps again, it is after a prolonged struggle against the increasing weight of his eyelids and the weakening of his disbelief in monsters. Consciousness eludes him however, and the veil between this world and another thins as he drifts down into the deeper places of sleep. Again, he is in an elevated place above the mushrooms, and again the sea is drained of its lifeblood. A primordial storm covers the firmament, and it is heavy laden with the burden of rain.The man shifts his focus to the place he does not wish to see. He tightens his eyes closed and silently prays to nothing that the deep and sunken place lay open and empty. But when he opens his eyes, it is not empty. He can see the shapeless form of the demiurge, but he cannot feel its malignant gaze. He knows, in the way of dreams, that the thing is sleeping, and that perhaps it has been sleeping for a very long time. That perhaps the only time it had not been asleep was a time unaccounted for, unreckoned and unseen by mankind. From deep within the storm clouds there flashes a white lightning, and from its ghostly light the man is given a glimpse of the scene. The shroud of darkness falls again, and the man is left with a horrifying image of frozen time burned into his mind. The impossible body of an ancient sleeping god, with a gaping wound in its side - or perhaps it is just some unidentifiable aspect of its alien anatomy. From the hole grows a whole host of mushrooms that stretch across the seabed. Several grow upward, and a branching path of growth snakes up a tall stalagmite. From the tip of this rocky precipice grows the mushroom that he currently dreams atop.The rain falls like the somber curtain of a closing act, heavy and final. The lightning flashes and gives transitory light to the scene. In the darkness, the muted glow of the mushrooms pulse steadily like the flexing of alien lungs. A clap of thunder, not unlike the creation of the universe, rings out through the wasteland. And the ancient thing stirs. The old god of the deep shifts and billows like a tangible pillar of smoke. It is a massive and inhuman form, indescribable in quality and infinite in complexity. At times he thinks he can descry a vestigial wing folding and unfolding, then at another time a prehensile claw grasping at the air, yet another flash of lightning reveals an antediluvian tendril. Each image the flare of lightning composes is more horrifying and varied than the last. The man hides his face from the sight of the passing presence. It utters low and droning rumbles that rattle the man’s teeth. There is a steady and deep clicking like the thick boat chain of an anchor being drawn in, or the groaning metal shudder that a ship makes as it capsizes.The man awakens in the dead of night to find himself half draped once again over the mushroom’s edge; arms outstretched to the deep. His own weight begins to pull him over the edge, and he is forced into frantic snatches at the lip behind him. None of his flailing lends him purchase and the mushroom droops slightly as he slides off into the water in an ungraceful dive. His deep-seated phobia of the ocean has taken on a new hideous shape in the form of a primal fear of the thing in his dreams. He sinks beneath the surface of the water and feels suffocated by the darkness of his closed eyes. Suddenly the sound from his dream rings out through the sea, compounded in force by the water. The bellowing sound is so powerful that it shakes the very marrow of his bones and sends his viscera into a quiver. Unthinking, he opens his eyes, already certain what he will see. The seawater blurs his vision but somewhere below him he sees a dirty orange glow like a floodlight.His eyes burn from the saltwater, and he screws them shut tight and fights to make it to the surface. Already he is screaming and expending air in a useless gesture. He can feel some sort of force pulling him downward toward the nightmare made reality. With his eyes closed, he feels a sensation like the need to sleep press down on his mind. He bursts through the surface screaming and panicking. Moments after he breathes air again, he feels an odd sucking sensation at his back, the feeling of a vacuum. Then the unmistakable sound of something large, larger than any known creature, breaching the surface of the water. The man swims with the drive and fury of all fear as he hears terrible and ear-splitting noises from behind him that seem to crack the very night. His terror overrides a masochistic bend to turn and look upon the face of the deep.He swims furiously and feels the pulling sensation intensify tenfold, like a sudden increase in gravity. Then comes an unaccountable sensation of falling backward, as if off someplace high. The ocean water has suddenly vacated the area immediately behind him, and he falls backward into the center of something like a whirlpool. He screams out sounds of pure terror as he falls backward with his face up to the night. In the fleeting seconds of his descent, he sees the gaunt light of a full moon and then watches it flicker as something immense and unearthly passes in front of it: like a thick pillar of smoke mixed with a fiery tornado of sloughed off limbs. He sees a wall of water surrounding his skyward view, sees it collapsing in to flood the place where god once lay. The mausoleum now lay empty, and the world will become a lazaretto - stricken and smote by the wrath of that ancient thing. Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Thirty-Seven) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Thirty-Nine)5th Day in the 1st of Delód’s Months, Rainy Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 127th Reckoned Year…but of them all, the tower whale is able to breach the highest, despite being the largest known species. This is because tower whales boast the strongest tail of all. They need this strength to survive, as they swim through the thick forests of tower vines, feeding on the tiny rilsh…“Breaching Habits of Whales”, From Sea Life of Yath, written by Remull Mawgard in the 100th Reckoned Year and Revised in the 124th YearCheese glances out the window in the rear wall of the captain’s quarters. Outside there are a few passersby who have stopped to gawk at the beauty of The Painful Lady. Cheese makes an offhand comment, “Ain’t they got nothin’ better to do?”The Big Man looks and sees them standing on the dock. “Oh aye, they do. But beautiful art demands attention. You forget the beauty of our Lady because she is familiar to you.”Bor and Pickett enter the cabin, the last of the crew. Cheese quips, “Took ya long enough.”“The need to eat does not stop for anything, even war.” Bor says simply.“Well,” Chapel cuts in, “we need a plan. Or even just ideas, any ideas.”Mavis speaks first, seeming resigned. “Captain — what about the war? We’re too late to stop it. The signal ships have been lit.”The General mutters under his breath and Petsune realizes that he has become shaky since the horn sounded this morning, officially launching the Royal Navy. Chapel answers his First Mate but speaks for the whole crew’s benefit. “Just because you can’t stop something before it starts doesn’t mean you can’t stop it at all.” The Captain looks around at his crew — his family — and says in a fond voice, “We might be too late to prevent it from starting, but we’re not too late to do anything. Now, does anyone have any ideas for how we can stop this war?”Petsune doesn’t know how the Captain projects such an air of calm confidence, but he’s glad for it regardless. He speaks up, the first to break the charged silence. “We also need to be wary of Devishaw —”“Who in the depths is Devilslaw?” Sprig interrupts.Cheese snorts, but Chapel answers Sprig patiently. “He’s the King’s Right Hand, commander of the Royal Navy. And my father…”Petsune picks up where he was, “He will try to stop us, in whatever way is necessary. Especially if we try to end this peacefully.” There are despondent faces and a few murmurs, but Petsune continues. “For now, unless we can come up with a better idea, I say we write to the leaders and plead for a meeting. If I write to them as the Cleave of Coldor, maybe they will grant us an audience and—”Shushilah raises a finger, interjecting a question. “But what are we saying to them? The Dintish have lost a King now, yes? They will not be wanting to end in peace, I’m thinking.”“I know… but if we can get them all together, maybe we can expose Devishaw somehow. He wants this war so badly that he might say something or make a mistake that gives him away, if we push. I was awake all through the night trying to come up with something, but this is the best I could come up with. If I sign the letters as the Cleave of Coldor and use this,” Petsune holds up his parents wedding bands, “to seal them, maybe it will get us an audience. If we get all the leaders in one place, maybe we can goad Devishaw into slipping up.”Benafield goes slightly wide-eyed at the sight of the bands. “Aye. That is not a bad idea, little Pet. But where did you get these rings?”Petsune looks at them fondly, resting in the palm of his hand: two rings melded into one two-finger ring. “They were my Deepblood talisman. I used them because they were the only belonging I ever had, but even if they weren’t, they would still be special to me.”Bor speaks up, seeing the scope of the problem is much bigger than they had imagined. “Even if we can get these letters to them, what are we supposed to say in them? What could possibly convince them to consider meeting with you?”The Captain speaks reassuringly to the entire crew, “We will work on that, that’s why we’re here. So long as we’re doing something.”Petsune picks up Chapel’s thought, “Yes. That’s why we’re here — we need ideas, any ideas, on what to say.”Chapel finishes with an added thought, “— because this isn’t just Petsune’s problem, it’s a family one. We’re all affected by this.”The room hushes until Cheese speaks. “Maybe we can give ‘em something?”The Big Man chimes in, “What could we possibly offer them?”Cheese shoots back, “I dunno, but least I’m thinking!”The Big Man squints his eyes at Cheese. “Are you saying that I am not thinking? That I do not think?”“Maybe I am, Bennie — what’s it to ya?” Cheese jibes back.Petsune is actually glad to see some of the friendly banter return between Cheese and The Big Man, but he cannot come up with any good responses to either of them.Chapel considers, turning in circles and tapping his chin in thought. He slowly gazes upward and seems to hatch an idea. Pet sees a flicker of devious intent flash across his face, then disappear so quickly he wonders if it was even there at all. The Captain stops pacing his small track and addresses the crew. “We need to think about this, we definitely don’t want to make any rushed decisions. But, I think we should follow the navy, northward. If we want any hope at all of gaining an audience, we’ll need to be where they are.”As the group begins to disperse and converse, Pet becomes aware of the General’s immobility. He walks over and attempts to speak to Tarlatan, however the General is unresponsive. Chapel also notices and wanders over, laying a hand on the General’s shoulder. Tarlatan startles slightly and then looks from the Captain to Petsune. “What? Oh, terribly sorry. I, um, seem to have lost myself for a moment there, hmm.”“Are you feeling alright, General Tar?” Chapel asks.“Oh, yes, yes. Quite. Thank you. Just need some fresh air.”The General exits the cabin, and Petsune raises a questioning eyebrow at Chapel. He sighs heavily. “Yeah, I know. It’s the war. The idea of staying close to it, I would guess.”“What can we do for him?” Pet asks.“Just be here for him. Listen, be patient. Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t want to cause him stress, but we have to do something.”“I agree,” Pet answers, “I will try to talk to him and be there to lend an ear.”Chapel looks fondly at Petsune. “Thanks, Pet. I wanted to say another thing too.”“Oh?”“Yeah. I have an idea, or at least, the beginning of one, but I want to know what you think.”“Alright,” Pet says curiously, “let’s hear it.”As General Tar exits to the main deck, the two conspire in the captain’s cabin.The General emerges into the sunlight and breathes deeply, trying to dispel any shakes he has. Being back in the Misty Shoals was hard, but returning to the Royal Mass and seeing the navy is even harder. He feels a shaky tremble in his limbs and a deep sickness in his stomach, all the while hating himself because he feels like a coward. Just as he begins to mentally chastise himself, Benafield walks over. “General.”“Hmm, Big Man.”“I do not wish to make you talk, but I can push you to, if that would help?”“I’m afraid I don’t know what would help, Benafield… Hmm, I feel so… useless.”“Nonsense.” Benafield says firmly.“Mmm… do you know why I was discharged from the navy? I should have been executed. I almost would’ve rather been…” The Big Man doesn’t say anything, but he thinks he understands. The General watches the other ships docked at the Trade Harbor, then speaks. “I am a coward, Big Man. Plain and simple. I fear I am more craven than I thought.” The General turns to watch the immense naval fleet sailing northwest, some with brown sails but most with blue. Benafield is not sure if he should comfort Tarlatan or not, so he tries to imagine what little Pet would do. He chooses not to speak.General Tar looks down at the deck beneath his boots. “I ran, Benafield. I didn’t fail on an assault, I didn’t get injured in the heat of battle, though I had seen more than a few… It just… It got to be too much, hmm? I had watched too many men die, some by my own hands…” General Tarlatan looks down at his hands, then up to Benafield, “so I ran. I deserted, and men — men I was responsible for — died, because of me. They died because I am a coward. Even now I tremble at the mere mention of following the navy toward war.”Benafield nods in solidarity, understanding the feelings. He decides to speak, now that the General has unburdened himself. “Aye. I understand, General.” The Big Man breathes in deeply, filling his immense lungs, then let’s put a long slow sigh. “My family… when they died in the mines of Vohfay, I nearly killed the foreman. I had him within my power, but I looked around and saw so much pain and grief and death… I could not do it.” The General is surprised at the admission, but he continues to listen, “I thought myself a coward. I could not even avenge my own family… I later learned that the foreman was made to dig deeper, in search of Saintstone deposits.”Now the General speaks in a whisper, “So it wasn’t completely his fault… Hmm, I see.”“It was and it was not,” Benafield says, “but I am still thankful I did not kill him.”“And what am I to be thankful for? Those men died because I deserted.”“Maybe. Maybe not. This foreman I had words with, he was moved to a new plot — a new mine — after the collapse.”“He didn’t lose his position?”“No, he did not. I learned later that another mine had collapsed under his watch. He was not so lucky to survive twice. No one was. So, tell me, General, should I have killed him? Are the deaths of those that died in the second collapse on my hands?”“Hmm… I should think not. They would have simply hired a new foreman, and carried on with the digging…” The General realizes what The Big Man has done, and he smiles slightly. “I see then. You think I am not to blame because it was inevitable, hmm?”Benafield looks away, smiling slightly and shrugging his shoulders. He begins to walk away, speaking over his shoulder, “I do not know, General. But I think for the both of us, it is better to choose not to bloody our hands and feel shame, than choose to bloody them and feel pride — yes?” As the Big Man walks away, he feels a glow of pride at the thought that if little Pet or the Captain had that conversation, they probably would’ve said something just like that. Benafield feels a revitalized purpose, like something being kindled. He finds it is easy helping people, and for the first time since he lost his family, that pain and loss morphs into something bitter but sweet.Chapel and Petsune exit the captain’s cabin, still conversing about the letters. “I think it could work,” Petsune says, “But we still don’t have a good way to get them to listen. The tricky part is getting all of the leaders in one place. How’re we going to do that?”Chapel thinks as the two of them take the stairs to the helm. “I don’t know, but we’ll come up with something. We have to.”Chapel nods to Mavis, who is doing checks on the ship. As they walk past, Chapel says something that catches Pet off guard. “Have you thought about what you will do after this?”“What do you mean?”“I mean let’s assume we’re successful, because I don’t want to think we won’t be. Assuming that, what happens next for you? Will you stay with us aboard the Lady, or go on to lead Coldor, or go back to one of the churches and argue with street criers?”Petsune chuckles but feels the weight and importance of this choice looming over him like a storm. “I don’t know… I’ve tried not to think about it.”“Well, maybe you should.”“I want to stay aboard the Lady, it feels like home. But Coldor needs a Cleave, and that is my responsibility, and it could be my home, if I wished it.”Petsune could be mistaken but Chapel’s shoulders seem to slacken just a little. “Coldor is your home, Petsune, but you’ll always have one here too, if you want. Just… give it some thought.”“Of course. You’re right. I will think about it.”The two of them reach the helm and Chapel fondly grabs two of the rungs on the outer wheel. Petsune glances around at the beautiful ship, continuing to think of Coldor and the role of Cleave. “The Cleave has to be a married couple, so technically I’m not even eligible.”Chapel releases the ship wheel and shrugs off Pet’s comment. “Eh, I think after 30 years of an Empty Throne — they’ll settle for just you.” He taunts with a wink.“Thanks…”Mavis joins them at the ship wheel. “The Lady’s sea-worthy, Captain, though she’ll not be dancing until we get proper repairs on that splintered root. Those drownin’ shipwrights wanna charge a fortune for any sort of ship work, so we’ll have to fix her somewhere else. I did get the longboat you requested. It’s an old one, not very big, but it’ll do.”Petsune turns to Chapel and says in serious tones, “So, when do we leave?”Mavis gives Chapel an indecipherable look shrouded in nebulous body language, and also an ambiguous grunt. Chapel looks from Mavis to Petsune. “We’re ready whenever you are, Pet.”Petsune sighs and looks out at the barely visible navy. “Alright, I’ll write the letters, then go to the Roost and send the messenger beaks, then we’ll weigh the anchor…”They all three silently agree. Below the helm, on the main deck, General Tar feels a dense atmosphere of anticipation settle in amongst the crew. Up in the crow’s nest, the Big Man shifts from humming to lightly singing a shanty of his own.“We held the strong waves; we snatched them to keep.Out in the ocean, out on the sea.We stood on the sky; we laid in the deep.Out in the ocean, out on the sea.”As Benafield sings, the entire crew stops to listen. It is an entrancing melody that perfectly complements the depth of his Fellbin voice.“We stored up the wind; we piled it in heaps.Out in the ocean, out on the sea.We put sunlight in barrels,sang all our carols,and a sweet song we did reap.Out in the ocean, out on the sea.”Petsune notices it is unusually quiet, as though the world has hushed to hear the Big Man’s melody. He sings on, his deep voice growing softer, but somehow seeming louder.“We made moonlight our bed; stars sang us to sleep.Out in the ocean, out on the sea.We heard the whales sing, and with the whales we did weep.Out in the ocean, out on the sea.”When Pet looks around, he notices that in fact the whole world has hushed. The docks have become still and silent, listening to the song. It carries through the docks, quieting the bartering and haggling.“We bailed out bad luck in buckets,We raised quite a ruckus,Now from our yard arm we leap.Out in the ocean, out on the sea.”Now The Big Man’s voice tapers off, only to return in a fine, thin whisper that travels from the crow’s nest into the ear of every person on the dock.“Yes, out in the ocean, that’s the life for me.Out in the ocean, out on the sea…”Then, just like that, the market seems to snap back into its bustling chaos, as though there aren’t a few old sailors wiping tears from their eyes. Petsune looks around, unsure if the quiet reverence even occurred, or if he was simply so drawn into The Big Man’s singing that he thought everything froze. He breathes deeply, then looks at the Captain. Chapel is completely enamored with the song and has the most pure and beatific smile on his face. The General wipes his eyes and unsuccessfully tries to sniff discreetly.While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Thirty-Six ) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Thirty-Eight)4th Day in the 1st of Delód’s Months, Rainy Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 127th Reckoned YearO’ great Face of Dōmünfoll, how mysterious are your features.You humble the most praised sculptor; you teach skill to master teachers.“The Face of Dōmünfoll”, From Great Sculptures of the Oullman, written by scrivener Fowdin-Mell in the Unreckoned YearsThe Big Man gives Shushilah a firm pat on the back, propelling him down the gangway and nearly toppling him over. “Aye, and have fun, Shush! Don’t be spending anymore of your money now, hah! Even if Cheese is getting swindled!” The Big Man roars.The Second sun is setting over the harbor and dinner has been cleaned up already, leading most of the crew to venture out into the Trade Harbor to sightsee. The Royal Mass is home to many wonders known throughout Yath: the Sunken Markets, the Royal Gardens of Glowing Paths, the Saintstone Halls, and the South Tower are all here, and more. The Big Man told Chapel he would like a word, so the two of them went into the captain’s quarters. Petsune is at Chapel’s desk, though The Big Man doesn’t mind. Afterall, the Tree spoke to all three of them, though Pet received a different kind of story. Besides, Pet is too busy pouring over the pages of the logbook they found, looking for evidence of his parents’ innocence. Petsune is reading a section of the logbook regarding the Alliance his parents signed with Broadfell, Dintash, and Filkash. He twists his mouth into a grim expression as he reads his parents’ writing hint that signing the alliance would bring them closer to HelBenledore, and the hint appears to be sinister. Meanwhile, Chapel extends a hand to where The Big Man sits. The chair strains out a groan of protest at Benafield’s Fellbin bulk. In Chapel’s eyes, he seems hesitant to initiate the conversation, so Chapel broaches the subject first. “I think I may understand why the Hollow Tree chose the story it told me.”An immediate look of relief appears on The Big Man’s face. “Oh, aye?”“Yeah. When we first… when we lost Harlan, I felt like I failed as a Captain. So I tried to harden myself, to become a strong Captain the others could lean on, you know?” Benafield nods in understanding, and Chapel goes on, “But then I realized it wasn’t me — that’s not how I am. I have strong emotions and I show them easily, so for me to try and be the hard hand, well, I was trying to be something I wasn’t. I would have been a tree trying to be the sky, and lost what I had in the process.”The Big Man nods deeply. “Aye, the Trees give timely wisdom in their stories.”Chapel nods as well, then looks to The Big Man who is staring down at the table introspectively. Petsune still sits at the desk, engrossed in his reading and oblivious to the conversation the Captain and The Big Man are having. Pet is reading a passage where his parents wrote about the leaders of each nation visiting each other, in preparation for the signing of the Alliance. His parents wrote about King Bornidin, Fellpost HelBenledore, and Oullman Keelay all coming to the Cleave and being shown the Cloudborne Bridge, and the shining fields of Saintstone to the north. He actually reads of his parents blundering an attempt to poison the Fellpost, and he groans softly. The pain is thick is his throat, but he reads on.The ending of the account catches Pet’s eye. It reads, “…it is as the Fāy-Núl Tör say, ‘The sea is not deceived’” How strange… he always thought it was a Coldor phrase, but perhaps they borrowed it? Then thinking of the revelation just above, he thinks it fitting that they borrowed the phrase from a group of zealous assassins. He feels a path of shame at thinking this, and rubs his face idly. He thinks of Harlan and the final words he spoke to him, still confusing in their intent: “sometimes the most effective way to eliminate an enemy is not to cause pain or suffering, but to give them what they want most.” What could Harlan have meant?While Petsune languishes in the revelations of the logbook, The Big Man begins speaking across the room. He speaks slowly, hesitatingly, almost as if in argument with some internal conscience. “I don’t know… I think that I understand the story I was told, but then… I can see so many meanings.”Chapel doesn’t speak, but he does continue to look at Benafield, despite The Big Man not looking back. Benafield looks out the window at the rear of the cabin, watching the Second sun disappear between the line of sea and sky. He speaks slowly. “Two painters, each skilled in their craft, but only one was educated. They paint a similar scene, but the uneducated painter has a more complex one. The master painter sells his for a fortune and receives great praise, but the uneducated painter sells his for a pittance…”Chapel looks away from The Big Man, casting a roaming gaze around the room while Benafield continues speaking. “At first, I thought of the value in the painting, how it was not the painting but the people who decided the value. An’ that don’t seem right…” The Big Man grows quiet, and the only sound is the occasional muttering of Petsune and the distant muffled buzz of the Trade Harbor. Benafield’s soft soothing voice begins again, almost imperceptible. “It makes me think of my family… and the thing the Sanctum told me. I went to them, aye? After my family… when they… after the tragedy. I needed guidance, needed to know there was something waiting for them after — something good,” The Big Man looks at Chapel and speaks firmly, “Do you know what they said to me, Captain?” Chapel’s face is pained and empathetic, but he doesn’t say anything, just continues meeting Benafield’s gaze. “They told me I was not a follower of Ründ, that I had failed my family. They told me there was nothing but darkness for them who did not believe… nothing but void and pain.”Chapel extends a hand and rests it on The Big Man’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Benafield…”He seems to force tears back as he sniffs loudly. “Aye. An’ this story, the one the Tree told to me, it reminds me of those feelings I had just then. Anger that these so-called priests did not see value where it ought to have been plain! Just because I did not follow their drowned Saint!” The Big Man roars out, causing Petsune to look up, but then Benafield sighs and continues normally. “They believed my life had no value because I had not followed their Saint. But it was not so.”Petsune has risen from the desk in frustration at the book, then hesitatingly decides to approach the Captain and The Big Man. He does not wish to intrude, but Benafield is obviously hurting, and it sounds as though that hurt was caused by the Sanctum. He had wanted to return to this topic with The Big Man, to try and bring some healing, plus it is a distraction from the truth about his parents and maybe his people as a whole. Now seems like a good moment to restart the conversation Pet had a few days prior.The Big Man sees Petsune and gives him a wan smile. “Aye, sorry to be disturbing you, little Pet. I did not intend to shout.”“No, no, not at all. I just thought… maybe I could join the conversation? I am, after all, a ‘so-called priest’.” Petsune says this without any touch of aggression or hurt, but Benafield still seeks to assuage any insult he may have given Pet, while motioning for him to sit. “Not you, little Pet. If ever there was a true man of the Saints, it’d be you.”Petsune sits and swats a hand through the air, waving off The Big Man’s words. “Don’t worry, it’s harder than that to offend me. And honestly, I agree with you about most True Souls of the Sanctum. They are often… difficult.”“Difficult, aye. That is one word for it.”Chapel brings Pet into the conversation. “We were just talking about the stories the Hollow Tree told us. I think mine was simple enough to figure out, but The Big Man’s story is not so easy to discern.”“Aye, it does not seem to have a point. It reminds me of my family, and of the words the Sanctum spoke to me. But why would the Tree choose to do this?”Petsune listens to The Big Man, and wades into the deep waters Chapel was treading moments earlier. “Perhaps that’s only part of the picture,” Petsune cautiously approaches something he has been considering, “maybe the people in the story represent the Sanctum, and that they did not see value where it should have been plain, but…”Petsune hesitates to continue, and Benafield gives him a reserved but heartfelt smile, “It is okay, little Pet. I count you a friend — no, more than that. I count you as family. You can speak to me as such.”Chapel remains a silent supporter as Petsune goes on. “Perhaps the ending is the most important part of the story?”“Aye? What is making you think this?”“In the story, the amateur painter quits painting, never lifting another brush. But it seems to me that he is wrong to do so. There will always be people like those critics in the story; people like the True Souls of the Sanctum that you spoke to. But if we quit painting, if we give up because of one bad experience, we miss out on so much.”The Big Man appears confused but he is clearly listening to Petsune with a genuine ear. “So, what are you saying? That I am to simply start another family? Try again?”“No, no, not that. I may be a priest but I am not so insensitive. I don’t think the point of the story is your family — I think it’s about those that judge the art. I think, perhaps, the story is suggesting you give the Saints another chance.”Benafield’s face immediately betrays a moderate rejection of the conclusion, but then it softens.Before The Big Man can voice his rejection, Pet continues speaking. “The painter created a beautiful work, but when his piece wasn’t well received, he gave up. You went to the Church in a time of need, but they hurt you, and you gave up on the Saints,” Petsune looks at Chapel who nods in encouragement, “but the painter should have kept painting. You shouldn’t hate the church or the Saints because of one drowned True Soul who doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”The Big Man does appear to consider Pet’s interpretation. “Aye… perhaps it is what the Tree intended to say. I do not know… I will think on this though, little Pet. Thank you. But there is something I must know: what do you believe awaits my family after death?”Petsune reels slightly at the tough question, but these past few weeks have allowed him a great deal of introspection. He once identified as a True Soul, then an Empty Hand, and finally a Deepblood. Now he is without church, yet he feels closer to all of the Saints than ever before. So, he answers honestly. “I don’t know, Benafield. I’m not sure what awaits me after death. I don’t believe your family wallows in perpetual darkness. With what I believe of the Saints and their goodness, I just can’t believe that would happen. But I don’t have the answers. I wish I did.”Benafield nods deeply, appreciating the truth rather than a comforting lie. He replies to Petsune, “You have said this many times, little Pet — that you do not know the answer.”Petsune feels a slight flush of color heat his cheeks, but he answers honestly and without bite. “It’s true, I know. But I think I would be more worried about the priests who claim they do know everything.”“Hah! This is true, very true. It is as I said, if ever there were a man of the Saints, it is you, little Pet. A True Soul indeed, you have told me what I needed to hear, even though you were knowing it may not be what I wanted.”Petsune stands. “I hope I have done something to help you.”He walks back over to the desk, ready to continue tackling the faults of his parents, feeling a particular kinship with the Captain. The Big Man watches him return to his studies and gives Chapel a questioning look. “Do you think we should be taking that book from him?” Benafield says, only half joking.“No, I think it’s just something he never had before — the chance to know more about his parents.” Chapel says. The Big Man’s eyes widen, and he nods, understanding dawning on him. Petsune sits back down at the desk and begins reading the logbook. He rereads the entry regarding the visits to each nation and his parents attempt at poisoning the Fellpost, then flips the page and finds Vánüm explanations of each Cleave’s name. The Captain and The Big Man both stand and walk out of the cabin, conversing fondly about their “Pet priest”.A few hours after Benafield and Petsune’s conversation, Shushilah returns alongside Cheese. The two of them step onto the main deck in the dusk of the evening, the Small sun having finally disappeared completely. Both Shush and Cheese are expressing wonder at the height of the South Tower, which happens to be the tallest structure in any kingdom. Cheese speaks in awestruck tones, “Like flyin’, it were, bein’ up that high.”“Is a beautiful thing, to be a windgull, I’m thinking.” Shushilah says.Soon after their arrival, The General and Bor return with a few crates of food stuffs. Chapel inquires as to what they were able to locate, then he has them store the items below decks. Bor seems to be marveling at the extensive options available in the Sunken Markets. Sprig and Pickett come down from the crow’s nest, and they appear to be executing some type of plot, Chapel notes. Petsune wanders out of the cabin weary-eyed. Chapel takes one look at him and says, “Saints, Pet. You look like a corpse.”Petsune smiles emptily, then waves off the Captain. Undeterred, Chapel places an arm around Pet’s shoulder then walks him to the railing. “Join me up top?” Chapel says, pointing up at the crow’s nest, “you look like you need some fresh air.”Petsune wants to protest, but begrudgingly follows Chapel up the ratlines to the nest. When they are both at the top, Chapel leaps up and sits with his legs dangling out over the edge. Petsune merely slumps over the railing, looking out through the branches of the mast toward the crowded Trade Harbors.Pet closes his eyes for a time and simply relaxes. Chapel gives him a sideways glance. “You know, you don’t have to memorize every word by the end of the week. I fear your inner schoolboy is coming out again.”Petsune laughs lightly, but he doesn’t say anything. The two simply drink in the dazzling view of human activity, shops closing up and things being stored away for the night. The whole harbor is an incredible achievement, with its submerged marketplace. The Royal Mass is a place of many technical wonders beyond compare, each a marvel to behold. Petsune sighs deeply. “I keep thinking, ‘If I just look hard enough, maybe I’ll find a reason why they hated the Fellbin, something that exonerates them’. My whole life I wanted to prove the Coldor weren’t what everyone said, but now I’m met with proof that the Coldor — my own parents — are the cause of the North War, just as people said. ”“Ahh, I see…” Chapel says, “you feel like this is your way of helping.”“It’s not like I can do much else… The Big Man is right, I don’t even have answers in the one area I’m supposed to be an expert in.”“Careful now, your insecurity is showing, Pet.”“I’m serious, Chapel! I feel… I feel like my whole life was built around being a priest and proving the Coldor were innocent and good people. But now I find proving that is impossible, and I’m no longer a priest. I don’t know who I am anymore….”Chapel doesn’t say anything right away and Pet is grateful he didn’t say something flippant. When he does speak, it’s casual but caring. “Maybe you can’t prove the Coldor are good, but you can be an example — you can start the change. As for being a priest, the church is all you’ve known, Pet. But it’s not all there is. Do you think you can’t follow the Saints if you’re not a priest?”“No, it’s not that. I just—”“The Saints can’t be found in a church, whether its gold plated or small and reserved.”Petsune exhales, feeling foolish for having Chapel explain this to him. “I know that. I do. I just need to figure out who I am, if not a priest.”Chapel swings his legs back into the nest and looks out toward the harbor entrance, where the open sea glimmers brightly. “You know, I’ve always felt close to the Saints, out there on the water… there are so many things that just, I don’t know, seem to show the Saints.”“Sure, I’ve heard the same things, how the three suns represent the Saints and all that — but those people are ignoring hundreds of years of Coldor tradition and belief. There are four Saints, not just three.”Chapel smirks at Petsune and removes his Saintstone eyeglass from his belt, offering it to Pet. “What’s this for?” He says, taking the eyeglass.“Take a look out there.”“At what, exactly? It’s night.”“Exactly, exactly.”“I do not like your more nebulous moods, I would just like to say…” But he looks through the eyeglass anyway, petulantly. He scans the dark water of the harbor as it reflects torchlights and glowing millie juice lanterns. As he looks about with one eye closed, he catches sight of the Sunken Markets below the harbor and he looks back to Chapel. “The Markets?”“No, wrong direction.”Petsune’s eye roams over the harbor and the docks, taking in much but seeing little. “What am I supposed to see?”Chapel points out above the water to a large blue-ish white moon glowing high in the starlit sky. “There’s your fourth Saint, Pet. Ostracized, different, dark. But she’s there all the same.”Petsune looks up at the moon, truly seeing it for the first time. He chuckles and says, “Guess I never thought about the moon.”Chapel continues speaking as Pet looks through the eyeglass at the incandescent moon. “You don’t need to be a priest in a church to see the Saints, Pet. You can follow the will of the Saints no matter where you are or what you do — you ought to know that by now.”Petsune exhales loudly, irritated with Chapel for being right. After a few silent moments, he hands back the eyeglass. “Where did you get that thing anyway?”“It’s the only thing my father ever gave to me, but that’s not why I keep it.”“Oh? Why do you then?” Pet asks.“Because it’s the best drowned eyeglass I’ve ever used.”Chapel laughs lightly and Pet does too, then he asks curiously, “When did he give it to you? You said you haven’t seen him in years?”“It was when my aunt died — the one he sent me to live with. He showed up, out of nowhere. I remember thinking he looked almost sad even… I remember him looking at the eyeglass, muttering he was sorry or something, then he tossed it to me and walked away.”“Wow, I’m sorry, Chapel. Truly.”“Eh, I wouldn’t have this family if it weren’t for all that. So, I guess it’s like you told The Big Man — sometimes you get hurt, but you gotta try again.”Slightly uncomfortable thinking about himself giving advice, Pet tries to change the subject. “Hah… yes… I wonder where Devishaw even acquired an eyeglass of Saintstone, just to throw it away so casually, as if he didn’t even care what it was.”“Yeah, he probably didn’t. He only ever cared about one thing for as far back as my memory reaches — revenge against the Coldor. It was probably something he got for his role in ending the North War. I don’t know. I highly doubt he bought it for me, that’s for sure.”Petsune shudders slightly, then considers Chapel’s words. “Still, most people would kill for a Saintstone eyeglass, and to just casually toss it away…”Chapel laughs cynically, “Yeah, casually toss it away – because he certainly didn’t mean it to be a heartfelt gift…”Pet appears apologetic. “I’m sorry, Chapel – I didn’t mean it like that.”But Chapel waves him off. “Don’t worry, Pet. I’m not hurt,” he says with a quick wink, “besides, it’s true. I don’t know why he gave me this, honestly. But it is very useful.”They become quiet, looking out on a sleepy world lit dimly by the new farmer’s moon.Petsune finds his mind returning to the things he read in his parents logbook. He recalls the page of the past Cleave’s names and their Vánüm explanations . “There is a page in my parent’s logbook that explains the Vánüm origin of each Cleave’s name. There may be words listed in there that you don’t have in your list, if you want to take a look.”“Yeah, I’m sure there are. I’d love a look at it.”“Maybe someday you can write a book like your mother’s.”Chapel doesn’t say anything, but he smiles fondly at the thought. Out in the distance, Petsune can see activity on the castle walls. He watches, and thinks aloud, giving a voice to his deepest fear. “I think… I think my parents aren’t innocent. I think they really did try to assassinate Fellpost HelBenledore. Which means they are responsible for the North War.”Chapel doesn’t answer immediately. “You remember what I said about Harlan, right?”“He was supposed to be hanged?”“No, no, not that. You said he didn’t sound innocent and I said, ‘Nobody is truly innocent’, remember?”“Yes, I remember. But this is different. They would be the cause of the North War.”Chapel listens intently and responds. “At the risk of sounding like a prattlebeak, I will repeat something else I told you. People don’t do things without what they see as a good reason. Maybe they did betray the Alliance, but if that’s the case, you’ll have to remember that they must have felt there was a good reason, even if it was founded in hate or false assumptions. Maybe they felt it was the only way to keep their people safe, I don’t know.”“Perhaps,” Petsune says dejectedly, “but I don’t think that makes it acceptable.”“No, it doesn’t. I agree, but it’s something to bear in mind. Sometimes it can be too easy to begin hating a group of people just because they, in turn, hate someone else. You end up making the same sort of choices as them then.”“I suppose… I’m not through with the logbook yet. There’s still a chance something in there will help me make sense of their actions.”Chapel looks up at the stars, seeing a few constellations that he knows by name: Ründ’s dagger, the Long Ships, and the Great Horn. He speaks while gazing up. “I admire your persistence, Pet. And I hope you do find what you’re looking for.”Chapel exhales a deep and profound sigh, still staring at the tiny glimmers of starlight above.The three triangular shapes of the Long Ships glitter and wink, mesmerizing him. Petsune hears the sigh and decides maybe his Captain could also use some encouragement. “How’re you taking the news?”Neither Petsune nor Chapel has to say what news. “Hard. I know I’m not close to him and I know I’m not like him, but even so. I thought I would be able to get through to him — that there would be some kind of reconciling. It makes me afraid of myself, in a way. He’s so sure of himself, so certain he’s doing the right thing — the thing that needs done. But I feel the same way…” Petsune listens, just as Chapel listened to him, “this time I know he’s wrong, sure — it’s obvious. But what about smaller disagreements with other people? How can you tell who’s right? I feel like maybe I was arrogant in trying to right past wrongs. Who am I, really?”“How do you know your father is wrong this time, what makes it so obvious?”“Well, he wants to kill innocent people, to slaughter an entire nation—”“—and how do you know that is wrong?” Pet cuts off Chapel, feeling in his wheelhouse.“Well, I guess because the Saints say so. Is that what you want me to say?”Chapel gets a little snarky, but Petsune doesn’t stoop. Instead, he thinks of Father Haltur and the countless hours of theology he was taught. “Yes, that’s what I wanted you to say. You can always tell what is right and wrong, morally. The Saints have laid it out for us.”Chapel raises an eyebrow and begins to poke at Petsune. “Yeah? Well, which one? Do I follow the theology and morality of Delód and the Deepbloods, with their tradition and reverence? Or Ründ and the True Souls, with their piety and distinction?”Petsune suddenly feels caught, and his face heats with the shame of his arrogance. “You can’t just — It’s not…”Chapel is smirking as he steals a glance at a flustered Pet. “Fortunately, things are complicated, unfortunately.”“What? That doesn’t make any sense.” Petsune feels the beginnings of annoyance bubble up inside.“I’m saying you’re oversimplifying things. Sometimes it’s good to remember you don’t have all the answers and things are confusing and complicated.”Chapel swings around into the crow’s nest and looks at Petsune.Chapel takes one more verbal shot, “Shouldn’t you be worried about the priests that know everything?” Then he winks his typical infuriating wink and begins to descend from the crow’s nest. Petsune is about to begin climbing down after him when he stops, his head protruding from the floor of the crow’s nest. “Wait. Look.” He says, pointing up toward the North Tower.As Petsune watches the place on the castle wall that was active earlier, he sees a roaring signal fire begin to burn brightly. Chapel pulls out his eyeglass and looks off to the northwest. He seems to scan the horizon for a few moments, before lowering the eyeglass. “The signal ships are lighting…”Petsune is confused however, “Signal ships? What are those?”“They’re fire ships that are burned to send a signal,” Chapel explains, “it means the navy is launching for war.”“Now?” Petsune says, shocked.“In the morning, likely. I saw some Filkish and Fellbin navy ships last night. That was probably Oullman Gunsha and more of the Broadfell navy.”Chapel taps idly on the eyeglass, staring at the roaring signal fire. Petsune feels distraught, “I thought we had more time… What do we do now?”“I don’t know…” Chapel says quietly. He feels far away, in a dreamy daze, and it might be his imagination, but he thinks he can feel the heat of the signal fire on his skin.While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Thirty-Five) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Thirty-Seven)3rd Day in the 1st of Delód’s Months, Rainy Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 127th Reckoned YearAll of my yesterdays bleed fourth to paint a new tomorrow.Fate, be thou my paint brush; death, cast aside thy sorrow.Let rest.Let rest on mine canvas, all thou dost want to be.Let rest.Let rest in the thy mind, ne’er an evil thought of me.Be strong.Be strong, O’ soul of mine, in the waters raging.Be swift.Be swift, O’ mine ears, to hear the voices fading.“Come back, come back” I heard ye cry in grief.“Come back, come back” And I turned unto thee.At last I hear, and at last I turn, to trust in what will be.Thy will be made of sterner things, if it could get to me.“Thy Will”, From Heart’s Lament, written by Barron Ullin in the Unreckoned YearsSprig snakes his way through the Travel Harbor, searching for a Finger Weaver. If he can’t find one on the docks, then he’ll have to move into the town where all of the churches are, there ought to be a Tapestry there somewhere. Sprig ducks under the arm of someone, dexterously relieving them of the pouch on their belt. He opens it and finds blisker leaves and wake-me beetles, so he simply tosses it aside. Sprig continues his elusive darting in and out of people and wagons, searching with quick eyes for an easy coin purse. He spots a small contingent of guards on their standard patrol, and he stays out of their line of sight easily — they’re never paying attention. He spots a man dressed in fine blue silk from Filkash, and easily snags the man’s coin purse while he argues with his charter. Sprig hefts the small bag and feels a decent weight inside, at least several bones of coins. It’s more than enough for his needs. Walking on through the crowds, Sprig continues scanning for the ubiquitous black veil of a Finger Weaver. He climbs up a rolling wagon of luggage and spots a Weaver several docks down. Sprig scrambles down the wagon and leaps off to catch a hanging sign shaped like a mossfin turtle. It swings forward with his weight, and he lets go to land on a sack of grain. When he at last stands across the street from the Finger Weaver, he removes the pouch of coins from his shirt. He opens the pouch and looks inside, thinking of the shiny plate he stole from Pet, then he flings the coins into the street in front of the Weaver, just as he did with the offering plate. He watches through the ensuing rush of travelers grabbing hungrily at coins, then sees the hand sign from the Weaver, four straight fingers with the littlest bent down, all pointed at the ground where the coins had landed. Sprig returns the gesture, then recedes to a rooftop to wait. The Tapestry is filled with illusion and misdirection, almost as much as the Fāy-Núl Tör.It was only a few minutes until the Weaver finished their story. Sprig watched as a puppet with thick arms plunged an oar deep into a rolling sea. A student of the Tapestry always finishes their story. The black veiled person appears silently beside Sprig on the rooftop, both of them in the shadows enough to remain unnoticed by passersby. The black veil flutters just slightly as the Weaver speaks. “Why do you throw coins on the ground, listener?”Sprig responds to the phrase with the appropriate answer and in his most serious voice, “I steal only to give, speaker.” He learned that serious-type voice by listening to Bor, though he prefers the speech patterns of Cheese best. The veil is lifted from the face of the Finger Weaver, revealing a girl of 11 or 12 years, just a few years older than Sprig. The girl has no hair, which is not uncommon in Filkash. Her upper lip is scarred with what must have been a painful gash, and below it she has a pure smile. She doesn’t look at Sprig, but watches the crowd, speaking eagerly but maintaining her solemnity. She clearly loves to hear of the other Masses, but that makes sense, Sprig thinks: all Weavers love to hear stories, and few travel. “What news do you bring? Do you wish to gain entry to the Strand?”Sprig however, reverts back to a thick version of Cheese’s patterns, scratching his ear as he speaks. “Ah, nothin’ much. I were thinkin’ maybe you got news, seein’ as I ain’t from here.”The Weaver is unsurprised by Sprig’s sudden degradation in vocabulary. Weavers are skilled in the aspects of theater, and Sprig is no exception. The Tapestry is the perfect ready-made disguise for a guild of thieves: deft hands, gifted voices, veiled so no one sees their face, and able to watch without truly being seen. Chapel noticed Sprig’s own inclinations and skills, learned early in the orphanage, and the Captain pointed him to the Tapestry. They have been helping him hone his skills and pointing his talents in specific directions. The Tapestry never steals for personal gain.The Weaver girl answers in the same solemnity, though there is a tinge of Broadfell to her voice that her eagerness allows to come through. “What does the listener wish to know?”“What’s goin’ on with the war?”“King Feyaz continues to gather the navy and those that have been conscripted. The first move against the Cleave will be made on the blacksmith moon.”Sprig looks up at the sky, but it’s just before first sunset, so he can’t find the moon to check the phase. “Do ships leave,” Sprig asks, “or is there like a lockdown or somethin’?”“Ships come and go, but there are checks that the Harbormasters make.”The hurry of the Trade Harbor below is accentuated by the hawkers selling wares held up on tall spears: fish, cloth, leather, fruit, and other goods periodically drift by the rooftop, bobbing as if buoyant. Sprig can’t remember the third thing he was supposed to ask, so he makes to leave. The Weaver places a hand on his arm. “The Loom will want to know the reason for a visit from a foreign Weaver. Are you following a mark?”He notices the drop of the solemnity and titles, and at the same time is reminded of the final question he was supposed to ask. At first Sprig isn’t sure what to say, so he follows an old Tapestry proverb about twisting lies into truths. “I ain’t got a reason — the ship I’m crewed with were drafted for fightin’.”The Weaver doesn’t speak, so Sprig asks the last question. “Anybody seen people visitin’ the King lately?”She considers for a moment, then answers. “No, just the Fellpost of Broadfell. He came shortly after war was declared. Do you want me to ask The Loom?”“Nah, ain’t gonna be here that long.”She eyes him warily, but then he smiles his mischievous smile and she laughs. The two quietly watch the harried movements of patrons and travelers below. The first sunset begins to color the Travel Harbor’s water, then Sprig makes to leave. The Weaver speaks, stopping him. “What’s your name?”“Sprig.”But she looks at him carefully and says, “Not what you are called — your name.”Sprig doesn’t answer right away, finally looking over to the Weaver girl. “What’s it to ya?”“I have never met a member of the Tapestry from another Mass.”“I ain’t a full member yet, still gots some offerin’s to make.”“Still,” She says looking at him, “I would like to know.”“Name’s… Spigwell, but kids at the home I were raised in made fun. So’s, I got a new name.“Sprig.” She repeats, seeming to try the funny nickname.“Yup,” Sprig answers, shuttering away the sick feeling he gets when he hears his real name, “You?”“Mashia-Bess.”“Well, Mashia,” Sprig says in a mix of Cheese and Chapel, “I gots to get back. Thanks though. An’ good show too — I ain’t never seen it.”“It is one of my own. It is an adaptation of a story my father told me, called Boldifar Strong Oar.”Sprig says, “It were a right good one.” Then he scampers off the rooftop, disappearing into the crowd.When Sprig returns to the Painful Lady, the second sun is beginning to set and the Captain is waiting in his cabin. Sprig walks into the large and stately room, finding the Old Goat and First Mate Mavis, sitting across from Chapel. The Captain is staring down at the Saintstone eyeglass held in his hands, and he is mindlessly petting a very satisfied prattlebeak. Sprig enters and interrupts a conversation between the General and Mavis, “Found ‘em.” The Captain looks up, but doesn’t stop petting Sprig’s bird. “What’re you doin’ that for? Don’t spoil ‘em or it’ll expect the same from me.” Sprig says to Chapel. The Captain nods to Sprig and raises an eyebrow in interest. “You know you love her, Sprig. Give her some attention, she’s worked hard lately,”Chapel scratches the bird’s neckless head. Sprig answers the Captain’s unspoken questions. “Ships are leavin’ but there’s checks. An’ there ain’t been nobody seen visitin’ the King recently, ‘cept the Fellpost. He showed up with his big, pointy hat after war were declared.”Chapel hears and says, “Thanks Sprig…” as he continues scratching the bird. “You know, we ought to name this bird. She’s part of the crew now. Depths, she’s been pulling more weight than me, lately…”The Big Man enters the cabin alongside Cheese, both laughing mildly and Cheese shoves the immovable bulk of Benafield. The Captain grows thoughtful, “Now, what would be a good name for you…”The Big Man hears Chapel and decides to throw his two scales into the ring, “I say… Kerfuffle.”First Mate Mavis rolls his eyes and couples it with an exasperated sigh. The General appears seriously contemplative of the name, then says, “Hmm, it’s not a bad one, I say.” Then he shrugs his shoulders, suggesting it doesn’t matter to him. Sprig speaks without even thinking. “How’s about Mashia?”The Captain tries out the name, “Mashia” and the bird coos softly in it’s natural voice. Sprig smiles broadly, and Chapel speaks again, “Mashia it is then. Where’d you come up with that, Sprig?”Sprig shrugs his shoulders, copying the General’s gesture. “Dunno.” But the bird eyes him, as if privy to the secret knowledge of its eponymous figure.Shushilah and Petsune walk into the room then, followed by Bor and Pickett. The latter two smell like a mouthwatering dish that Sprig can’t wait to devour, while Shushilah and Petsune smell like the grungy tang of too many bodies mixed with exotic spices. Petsune is in the middle of speaking to Shush when they enter. “Yes, but you didn’t need to buy it for me. I didn’t even intend to buy it.”Petsune is holding a fine leather belt with a place for his Sanctum dagger on it.The General chimes in, desiring to hear the full story. “What’s all this then, Hmm?”Shushilah laughs at Pet and answers the General. “The Filkish merchants, they had their way of our dear Pet.”Chapel laughs too, “Ah, they got you? They can be very persuasive.”“I don’t know what came over me,” Petsune says.Chapel and Shushilah laugh, and Shush says an old Oullman idiom, “Is fun to watch! They took him through the forest!”Mavis chuckles mildly then. “Bought it hook, line, and sinker, did you?”Bor isn’t laughing, though he is smiling. “Probably because you’ve never had the freedom to shop before, have you Pet?”Shushilah comments, “Is the way of the Filkish traders. Making you want something you did not know you were wanting.”Sprig makes a comment that he doesn’t intend to be all that funny. “That’s ‘cause he were always buyin’ fish for the Fathers.” But suddenly everyone laughs, even Bor and Pet.When the room quiets, Chapel speaks. “Well, looks like everybody’s here,” Petsune sees Chapel question himself inwardly, then a flicker of determination surfaces on his face and the Captain continues, “I met with my father, Devishaw, the King’s Right Hand. It did not go well….”The General is about to speak, but Bor gives him an elbow and he swallows his question. The Captain continues explaining, “My father is not only unwilling to help us persuade King Feyaz to make peace, but I think… No, I know, he killed King Bornidin.”Pet hears that his people are innocent in the king’s death and feels a heavy weight lift from his shoulders. He had hoped, but after the logbook he began to lose that hope. Now he knows for certain, and he finds himself reinvigorated in his quest to prove the innocence of his parents, despite the nature of the logbook. Now the General finds himself unable to hold his tongue. “What? That’s outrageous, what’s the meaning of this, Captain?”Benafield chimes in, “How could this be?”Now Bor speaks over the Big Man, “They said he was assassinated by a group of Coldor?”To everyone’s surprise, Pickett begins speaking. “To catch larger prey, the fisher shark will spear smaller, easier fish on the two fishing tentacles on it’s face, using them as bait to fish for larger meals.”The room goes quiet in shock, but then Sprig speaks to Pickett, “Hey, that’s a good’n Pickett,” then Sprig speaks to the rest of the room, “Pick is sayin’ maybe Young Bornidin were just the bait.”“Yes,” Shushilah says, “This is the point, I’m thinking,” then he adds, “if Devishaw is hating the Coldor so much, this was the way to get rid of them, yes?”No one speaks right away, until the General breaks the silence. “Hmm, it would be a good strategy for starting a war, to blame it on the Coldor. If one was fishing for the eradication of a people, framing them for the assassination of a king would be perfect bait.”A few of the crew look at Petsune, wondering how he is taking this conversation. Petsune appears thoughtful and says, “But why now? Your father has always hated the… has always hated my people.” Petsune feels a strange flush of pride, finally being able to acknowledge that he is Coldor to the crew.Cheese says, “Didn’t they catch the killers an execute ‘em? Four of ‘em, there were.”The General thinks strategy aloud. “If they never confessed, they could simply have been sympathizers from the Royal cells… two tupandi with one spear, hmm?”Chapel agrees with a nod, “I think you’re right, General. My father would have access to the Royal cells.”Chapel turns from the room to look out the window in the stern wall of the captain’s cabin. “My father believes he has made the slaughter of the Coldor inevitable. We need a plan to stop it.”The entire crew becomes contemplative with the heavy burden. Chapel’s words begin to settle into everyone’s mind.The truth, that Devishaw hates the Coldor enough to kill the king for his plans, is devastating to Chapel. He had hoped there was a chance for his father to redeem himself, but now he sees Devishaw is too far gone. This fact lingers in the air like the smell of rotten fish in the Saints sun, poisoning the mood of everyone in the cabin. Chapel gazes out of the window, wondering if what his father started can be stopped. Out the window to the port and starboard side are ships with green and blue and red sails, all curled up and rustling slightly in the overcast wind. Chapel sees out into the water beyond the Trade Harbor, spotting the brown sails of Broadfell navy ships. The Second sun is below the horizon and the Small sun is still a ways above, casting a dull amber glow over the harbor water. In the diffused light Chapel sees several small contingents of brown-sailed Broadfell ships sailing toward the Royal Docks from the north. There are also a few small groups of purple-sailed Filkish ships coming into view from the southwest. They are all here to support their allies in war, and it sickens Chapel to think his father has manipulated all of these people. While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Third Interlude) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Thirty-Six)3rd Day in the 1st of Delód’s Months, Rainy Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 127th Reckoned YearBeyond the broad wake of morning,I carry you with heavy heart.Below the horizon I take you,you who are now set apart.And though I care more deeply,more deeply than the sea,I will not cling too tightly,too tightly unto thee.“Canticle for Life”, From Véshéntii, Written by Saint Vésh in the Unreckoned YearsChapel pokes his head through the door to look in on Pet. “Hey, I’m heading up to the palace to try and get an audience with my father…”Petsune doesn’t look up, instead he responds distractedly. “Alright.”Chapel stares at him for a little bit, then withdraws. If Petsune had been paying attention he would’ve seen Chapel in a state he’s never witnessed before: anxious. Instead, he continues feverishly reading his parents’ logbook about the Coldor’s discovery of a great field of pure Saintstone, just north of the Cleave. He searches painstakingly through every word, but as he does, his heart continues to plummet deeper into his gut. Chapel closes the door to the captain's quarters and sighs loudly. Someone speaks behind him. “Is okay, Captain. I can come with you, if you like? You may want the distraction, I’m thinking?”Chapel turns to Shushilah and says resignedly, “Thanks, Shush. But I think this is something I need to do on my own,” Shush nods as the Captain adds, “maybe see if you can coax our Pet out from his cave?”Shushilah nods again. “I will see what I can do. Is going to be hard to tear him away from the book.”Chapel begins walking toward the gangway and says back to Shushilah, “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” then crosses over to the dock. Shush watches the Captain leave, then turns to face the door to the captains quarters where Petsune has been sequestered away for the past two days. Quietly, he enters the cabin where Pet sits hunched over at the desk. Shushilah walks over to the desk and stands for a moment. Petsune doesn’t say anything, perhaps not even realizing Shush is there. He sits down at the chair beside the desk and Petsune finally notices him. “Oh, hello, Shush. I didn’t hear you come in.”Shushilah looks fondly at Pet. “Is a comforting thing, yes? The words of your parents.”Petsune wants to answer that he is comforted, but he can’t. If anything, reading through his parent’s logbook has made him despair. There are many hateful words and falsities his parents speak about Broadfell, calling them all greedy savages and violent animals. Instead of lying, Pet gestures to the book.“Look at this,” Pet points to the words on the first page. On the first open page and bleeding onto the second is an immense list detailing the unions of Cleaves, then on the second page is some of Coldor’s history. Threaded throughout the history is unkind language and assumptions about the Fellbin and it breaks Petsune’s heart. He has lived his whole life hearing these types of things directed at him, how could his parents have made the same mistake? Shushilah kindly looks at the page, seeing the names and historical events, then he looks back at Petsune. “I’m thinking, is maybe time to take a break, yes? We are at the Royal Mass, home of the famous Sunken Markets! We should go out and be seeing the sights.”Petsune glances down at the book and feels a sudden pang of shame. He has mostly ignored the crew since they found the logbook his parents kept. His mother must have hidden it just before her ship — this ship — was taken. It turned out to be much more than just a logbook. To Petsune, it is the only window he has into who his parents were, what they were like: it is a record of his heritage, and there is still so much he hasn’t read. But what he read sickens him. He has all but lost hope of finding proof of his parents' innocence. Instead, he fears he will find evidence of their treachery. This book could hold answers either way but hearing Shushilah ask him to go see the Royal Mass has caused his drive to evaporate. He has read enough to see there is no prospect to be had there. He feels a deep and painful sorrow settle into his chest. He hasn’t found an answer one way or the other, but what he has read will have to be enough for right now. Petsune looks back to Shushilah’s expectant face. “Of course, you’re right, Shush. I’ve been far too distant. Let’s go see these Sunken Markets.”Shush’s face lights up. “Yes, let us go see them! Let us go see! This will be good, I’m thinking. And the book, is not going anywhere, yes?” Petsune stands and feels a crick in his neck from looking down at the logbook. The two of them walk out of the cabin as Pet rubs his aching neck. The sky is the gloomy gray overcast, typical of the rainy season, though it isn’t raining today. When the rains had finally cleared two days ago and the storms abated for a time, the Painful Lady was within viewing distance of Dintash Mass. Despite it having been their goal for nearly a fortnight, and a dream of Petsune’s to see, he didn’t behold it from a distance, having been preoccupied by the discovery of the logbook. Had he been at the bow alongside the other crew members, he would have seen the largest Mass in all the seas. The shape of the Mass resembles two whales meeting head on, with the curve of the tails being two different harbors of immense size: the Trade Harbor, and the Travel Harbor.Petsune and Shushilah make their way across the gangway and step out onto the wooden docks. Shushilah sees Petsune marveling at the lack of actual tower vine Mass, so he explains. “The Dintish Mass is mostly man-made, yes? Only the palace is sitting on the true Mass, the rest is wood. And stone, maybe, I’m thinking.” Shushilah points to one of several large pillars of smooth stone.As they continue walking closer, Petsune can see that the thick stone pillar is actually protruding up through the dock. Petsune stops and points at the base of the looming form. “Does that go to the bottom of the ocean?” He asks incredulously.Shushilah nods and continues walking, hardly seeming impressed. “Is not so far here, not like the Deep Sea. Maybe, 6 or 7 towers, I’m thinking.”Petsune rushes to catch up to Shush and asks, “And how deep is the Deep Sea?”Shushilah continues walking, obviously knowing where he’s going. “Nobody knows that. Is never been touched — the bottom. Never.”“Really?”Shushilah shakes his head. “Never at the center. They have tried before.”They continue to walk around the sweeping curve of the Trade Harbor, passing dozens of merchant vessels unloading and loading goods of every variety. Beyond the bustling docks of the Trade Harbor are the tradesman’s guilds that boast the most prestigious craftsmen in the kingdom. On the other end of the Mass, where the Travel Harbor is, in place of the guilds are the various churches and homes of the lower members of the King’s Court. Shushilah continues to lead the way around the Harbor until they finally reach the center.As they reach the central gate inward to the guilds, Pet sees Shushilah stop walking. He is facing away from the gate and looking out toward the harbor. When Petsune approaches to ask him why he’s stopped, he sees a vast hole in the water where a set of steps descend into the sea. Petsune gasps and Shushilah speaks. “Is the Sunken Markets. A beautiful sight from above, but is breath-taking from below, yes? We go down now, I’m thinking?”Petsune simply nods, mouth open and unable to speak. As they take the stairs below the water, Pet sees carts on pulleys shuttling goods up and down along the sides of the stairs. Shushilah continues to give Pet a rough tour of the Royal Mass. “They call these the Hundred Stairs, but there are not that many — I counted once.” Petsune becomes even more amazed when they reach the bottom of the Hundred Stairs. Here lay the Sunken Markets, submerged below the Trade Harbor. The hidden place of commerce is incredible, showing the unparalleled craftsmen of the Dintish guilds. The ceiling, walls, and supports are all made of Saintstone imported at great cost from Broadfell, giving the Sunken Markets an almost otherworldly glow. Coupled with large glass vats of glowing millie juice, the markets take on a spectral quality. Petsune is reminded of the Sanctum of Souls belief in a great feast in the afterlife. Shushilah smiles and gestures for Petsune to follow him.A shadow passes across the market and Petsune looks up. The ceiling is a hazy white glow but when Pet truly looks, he sees it is translucent, allowing a view of the ships docking at the Trade Harbor above. Shushilah speaks, continuing his brief tour. “This is not the first Sunken Markets, the first were in the Shipwreck Straits. They were called the flooded markets, because it was not built under the water,”Petsune is only able to half listen, marveling at the white hazy view of the ship hulls above them. Shush continues leading the way, seeming only mildly impressed by the sights. “the first became heavy — what is the word — ah, overburden, by all the commerce and the trade. Is causing the center of the tower vines to sink like a bowl, yes? And so, ‘flooded markets’. But this,” Shushilah says gesturing widely, “this was built for below the Trade Harbor. And so, ‘Sunken Markets’ — you see?”Again, Petsune simply nods, still open mouthed. All thought of the logbook has been removed from his attention, and he is instead engrossed in the wonder of the Sunken Markets. Shushilah turns around to look at Petsune’s cave-like mouth and feels he has fulfilled the Captain’s request of him. He smiles and motions Pet to follow him. “Come, come, Pet. There is much to see!” And the two wander off through the market.Chapel stands in a vast room of intricate architecture and adorned furniture. Every wall is gilded with Saintstone and gold. There is a bustle of activity nearby, likely due to the war. Chapel taps his foot nervously, looking at, but not really seeing, all the fine art and statues. Chapel’s father finally appears without a greeting. He looks much the same as Chapel remembers from the last time he checked in on him — unbeknownst to his father. Devishaw is a tall man of powerful stature, with a grizzled face and a gloom that hangs about him. Devishaw stands there, silently looking Chapel over, then nods to the shimmering eyeglass on his waist. “You still have it.”Chapel doesn’t look at it but maintains his passionless gaze. “Not for sentimental reasons. Just practical.”“Devishaw stares back at Chapel and eventually motions for him to follow. But Chapel holds a hand up to stop him. “No, I’m not following you back to your quarters. You can follow me to my ship.”Instead of raising an eyebrow or questioning Chapel about having a ship, Devishaw simply goes quiet. Chapel speaks again, before his father has time to say no. “You’ve never come to me in all these years, and now I come to you. The least you can do is follow me to my quarters.”Slowly and almost imperceptibly, Devishaw nods. Chapel turns and leads his father back toward the Trade Harbor where the Painful Lady is docked. They exit the immense Dintish palace, and leave the Royal grounds, passing through the thick walls that guard the King. Neither Dev nor Chapel say anything as they walk, but the silence doesn’t feel awkward — it feels charged, like a storm squid or perhaps poisonous, like a feverweep.When they finally pass through all of the guild halls and trade houses, Devishaw speaks. “Why are you here, Chapel.”Chapel doesn’t answer, instead leading him around the curve of the docks to the Painful Lady’s gangway. Dev pauses when he sees the ship, showing the first true sign of emotion. Chapel glances back at his father and sees him staring up at the branches of the Lady’s main mast. Chapel hopes to see pain or a flicker of remorse, something, but all he sees in his father’s eyes is vague recognition and confusion. Inwardly, he knows now this plan was hopeless, but he decides to try anyway. They cross the gangway and Devishaw looks around briefly. “It’s smaller than I remember.”Chapel doesn’t respond, instead leading the way over to the captain's quarters. The ship appears empty of all crew, so Devishaw pointedly asks, “Just you on this ship? No crew? And no blue sails I see.”Chapel enters the cabin and leans against his desk. “They’re sightseeing. Besides, what I have to say to you is private anyway.”Devishaw raises one eyebrow the barest amount but doesn’t say anything.Chapel continues, “You need to convince the King to stop the war.” Devishaw laughs cynically, but Chapel continues, “The King is inexperienced, so I know you have his ear. Advise him the war is not a good move, strategically.”Devishaw holds up a hand, stopping Chapel. “Of all the directions I thought this might be going, this was not among them.”“This war is going to be a slaughter; thousands will die with no recourse.”“And did they show mercy to us when they slaughtered hundreds in the flooded markets? When they murdered Tiradel?”Chapel steps toward his father. “Don’t you use her. She, more than anyone, would condemn your bloodlust!”“You never even knew her.”“I know her more than I know you.” Chapel cuts back.The blow seems to land, as Devishaw goes quiet. He walks away from Chapel, over toward the map on the wall. Devishaw gazes at the map and speaks to Chapel without looking at him. “There are things at work here that you don’t understand. I can’t advise King Feyaz to rescind his first decree as king, especially a declaration of war. It would make him appear weak.”Chapel speaks to his father’s back. “There has to be a way we can stop this before it gets bloody.”The cabin goes quiet as Devishaw stares at the map. He speaks quietly without turning around. “And if I don’t want to?”Chapel closes his eyes and takes a moment before speaking very carefully. “You know, there is something that’s been bothering me…” Devishaw turns as Chapel continues, “how did a group of Coldor get past all of the guards — past you — and kill the King?”Devishaw stares at Chapel and the two lock eyes. Chapel refuses to speak, to give his father an easy out. Devishaw finally speaks, “The Kingdom will never be safe as long as those Coldor animals hide away in their corner, able to attack us whenever they please.”Chapel looks away, despising even the sight of his father. He turns back to his desk and says softly, “What did you do…”Devishaw moves closer to Chapel, anger in his voice. “This is bigger than you or me. That coward, Bornidin, didn’t have the guts to finish the Coldor in the North War.”“And you did,” Chapel bites, “But he called you back, like a dog pulled off it’s wounded prey.”Devishaw looks hard at Chapel, then speaks deliberately. “It’s a mercy to finish off a wounded animal.”Now Chapel is beginning to understand. “Don’t call this mercy, this is slaughter.”Devishaw doesn’t look away, meeting Chapel’s cool gaze. “Maybe it is, but it wouldn’t be anything less than what they deserve.”Chapel holds his father’s gaze, seeing only a hateful man. “How can you hate them so much…”“How can you not?”Chapel asks the question he’s been wanting to ask, the thing that he has been dreading the answer to since he thought of the question in the Misty Shoals. “… Did you kill the king?”Devishaw stares into Chapel’s sorrowful eyes, but he doesn’t answer. Chapel turns away, his heart breaking for so many different reasons. He speaks to his silent father, “When I heard of the king’s death, I worried you would be vying for war. The more I thought about it though, the less it made sense… How could a group of Coldor sneak into the castle and assassinate the king, right under the nose of the person who hates the Coldor more than anyone I know?” Chapel turns back to Devishaw, continuing to fill the silent cabin, “Then I wondered who would stand to gain from the king’s death, and it wasn’t the Coldor — it was you,” Chapel and Devishaw lock eyes again, “you knew blaming them would start a war, then you could manipulate King Feyaz into finishing what King Bornidin never did.”Devishaw finally wavers slightly, looking away at the window in the rear of the cabin. “You don’t understand half of what you think you do. It doesn’t matter. It’s done now. The Coldor will be wiped out, and the kingdom will be safe.”Devishaw walks over and opens the cabin door, but Chapel calls after him, “Don’t do this! The kingdom is safe now. Coldor isn’t a threat.”Devishaw doesn’t turn back but he stops and speaks a parting word. “No… no, it isn’t.” Devishaw walks off, crossing the gangway of the Painful Lady, but Chapel doesn’t follow him.While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Thirty-Four) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter )(Authors Note: the formatting for the Interludes doesn’t hold up well in Substack, but hopefully they are still readable and enjoyable. They are not essential to the story, but they serve to color in the world. Also some of the most over-the-top and ridiculous voice work is in the interlude spaces, so enjoy that.)Excerpt, ‘Unions of the Cleave of Coldor’Tashyün, earliest recorded leader, who created the Rule of the First, declaring that the first born shall rule only after being united in marriage, else they shall cede the title, whose end Vésh brought at an unrecorded timeBälebinn, firstborn of Tashyün, inherited leadership upon marriage to Gidita-Jula of Filkash, who remained leader of Coldor 24 years, during which time was created the Rule of Cleaving, and whose end Vésh brought at age 68 and 70Rule of Cleaving: rendered authority equally split between the married rulersCleave Petváhol, firstborn son of Bälebinn,& Tilshün of Coldor, whose rule lasted 21 years, during which time Saintstone was discovered, and whose end Vésh brought at age 71 and 70Cleave Miltagg, firstborn daughter of Petváhol,& Kurrtau of Coldor, whose rule lasted 30 years, during which time their firstborn passed at a young age, and whose end Vésh brought at age 61 and 77Cleave TauTarrlam, secondborn son of Miltagg,& Ewelnümé of Coldor, whose rule lasted 16 years, until the breaking of union vows by TauTarrlam, whence he was banished to FlatrockThe Great Schism: when the Fāy-Núl Tör seceded from the Sanctum of Souls, occurred during the 13th year of Cleave Tautarrlam Ewelnümé’s leadershipCleave Ewelnümé, upholder of the Cleave, who ruled for an additional 6 years, during which time she became the oldest recorded Coldor, whose end Vésh brought at age 92Cleave Hesünenum, firstborn daughter of Ewelnüme,& Yáslōyun of Coldor, whose rule was the longest recorded 45 years, during which time their first two daughters chose not to marry, and whose end Vésh brought at age 73 and 75Cleave LoFāycol, thirdborn daughter of Hesünenum,& Dellokurr of Coldor, whose rule lasted 19 years, during which time the Saintstone Fields of the North were discovered, and whose end Vésh brought at age 76 and 79Cleave Véshash, firstborn son of LoFāycol,& Jitsil of Filkash, whose rule lasted 8 years, during which time the northern berg fields were explored, until the tragic death of Véshash in an ice bridge collapseCleave Jitsil, upholder of the Cleave, who ruled an additional 20 years, during which time Windrock Cairn was commemorated in memory of Véshash, and whose end Vésh brought at age 58Cleave Thünévahtas, firstborn son of Jitsil,& Páhsmüni of Coldor, whose rule lasted 22 years, and whose end Vésh brought unexpectedly at age 47 in the Strange Sea, followed by the end of Páhsmüni from heart sicknessEmpty Throne for two years, during which time great unrest began, until the arranged marriage of HolsháhCleave Holsháh, firstborn daughter of Thünévahtas,& Setfāynum of Coldor, whose rule lasted 4 years, during which time unrest continued, until the unexpected death of SetfāynumCleave Holsháh, upholder of the Cleave, who ruled an additional 22 yearsCleave RilshRüne, only child of Holsháh,& Halmishfakit of Coldor, whose rule lasted 19 years called the Rilsh Years, and whose end Vésh brought at an unrecorded timeCleave Wōdewōnüyun, firstborn daughter of Rilshrüne,& Dodum-Gor of Coldor, whose rule lasted 29 years, during which time alliance talks with Dintash and Broadfell were begun, and whose end Vésh brought at age 68 and 70Cleave Nünéwoan, firstborn daughter of Wōdewōnüyun,& Höalám of Coldor, whose rule lasted 5 years called the Saintstone Years, during which time the Alliance of Nations was signedFrom The Lineages of the Four Nations, written by Maliabar Handwell in the 93rd Reckoned YearExcerpt, ‘Unusual and Unique Sea Life’Ghost fish are similar to a millie fish in that they are translucent and bear thin stinging tentacles. The ghost first has also been commonly called a willie by sailors because of it’s ominous shape gives sailors “the willies”. It is at least 6 feet in length and glows a translucent green, likely due to a preferred diet of gipp which are of the same verdant hue. The internal organs of the ghost fish, which do not glow, are arranged in such a way so as to resemble a wailing face. Ghost fish are more common in the green sea than anywhere and are more frequently spotted during the blacksmith's moon.Pinchfast Crabs are 3 feet in length on average, standing no higher than a man’s knee. They are very uncommon to find, though this is likely because they maintain their bottom dwelling habits in all phases of the moon except for the cobbler’s phase. All we know of them is from specimens dredged up in trawler nets. They resemble an elongated crab with an assortment of colors on their tough exterior. The marked difference is their four piercing orange eyes and their two forelimbs. These two limbs are tucked against the body and can explode forth at such a prodigious rate as to cut away an unwary fisherman’s hand before they even realize the crab has struck, hence the name. There is an old myth in Broadfell Keep that the sky was woven by one of these crabs. The myth says that it moved so fast as to miss the thread at times, leaving holes in the fabric which are only visible when it pulls the black veneer over Yath at night. This is why, in the Keep, pinchfast crabs are referred to as knitting crabs.Kermar Worms are a dangerous parasite that latch into the skin of any large fish. They can be found by the tell-tale boil, commonly called a kermar boil, that forms around them after they have embedded in the skin. There are exceedingly rare instances of fisherman being afflicted by kermar worms, but it is most common in large fish and whales. The worms typically insert themselves in the skin near the mouth of any large carnivorous fish and feast on the scraps of whatever meal their host acquires. It is notable however that this worm applies a non-toxic paralytic to the host prior to embedding itself. This paralytic is what is currently used to create the numbing agent doctors occasionally use before performing certain procedures. It is extremely expensive since each worm only secretes a small amount.Diving Bell Beetles are similar to kermar worms in that they are parasitic, using a host for food. This is where the similarities end however, as the bell beetle is a water dwelling insect. The bell beetle lays its eggs in the stomach of fish. It does this by getting itself eaten, then attaching to the roof of the mouth on its victim. The poisonous bite of the bell beetle sends an increase of energy into the fish, causing it to swim sporadically. The desired effect is to get the fish eaten by a bigger predator. It will then lay its eggs inside the eaten fish to hatch. When the eggs hatch, the young then appear to consume the dead fish and live in the stomach of the predator. When they are ready to mate, they expel themselves from the host fish and swim to the surface to mate, then dive down to begin the cycle again. Like the kermar worm, the bell beetle’s sting is used recreationally to waken the user and revitalize them with energy, hence why it is also commonly called a “wake-me beetle”.Rilshmoad are the smallest known crustaceans, hundreds easily fitting into the palm of a hand. They are often called simply “rilsh” and are carrion feeders that execute the invaluable job of consuming the dead creatures of the sea. They have no noticeable pincers or stingers and cannot bite humans due to their insubstantial size. They are present in every sea and can be easily found almost anywhere. It is unknown how the creatures survive when there are no dead to feed on, but they do often gather in forests of tower vine, leading scholars to postulate that they consume algae or plants when in need. Even more fascinating than this is that the tower whale, the largest known species of whale, feeds exclusively on rilshmoad.Vine-gilled False Fish are a strange and elusive fish that have proven extremely difficult to study. This is because they hide within different plants and coral, blending in extremely well. They are able to change the pattern, color, and texture of their skin, all to match their surroundings. They also bear two short tubes resembling seaweed on the sides of their heads that function as gills. They are called false fish because they will sometimes try to look like a fish, in order to hide from or scare off predators. They do not possess any fins whatsoever, but rather a dozen grasping tentacles lined with suckers.Revised Entry: A final entry has been written for the mythical Deepfoot, as they are so widely believed in and supposed sightings are so pervasive. The existence of such a creature is improbable to say the least, as the sheer size would be unsustainable in the Yath ecosystem. However, the attributes of the deepfoot are listed here. It must be restated that such a creature has never been reliably verified to exist. The belief is that the deepfoot resembles an immense snail, elongated over thousands of towers, stretching farther than a ship can sail in a day. A common belief is that no matter where you are on the ocean, there is likely a deepfoot below you. They are said to be as large as the mountains of Broadfell, with shells of iron and rock. There are religious ties and significance to this myth, which is likely why it persists today.From the Filkish Text, Sea Life of Yath, written by Remull Mawgard in the 100th Reckoned Year and Revised in the 124th Year Excerpt, ‘The Greatest Structures of the Nations’…While I was disappointed by some of the natural structures I visited, I still maintained an excitement for my visits to the man-made structures. The first place I visited was the South Tower Roost, which is the currently the tallest structure in any nation. I felt immense pride in the accomplishments of my country as I stood upon the topmost balcony. What an incredible feat of skill it is to build such a structure. It is this traveler's recommendation to visit the Roost whenever possible but be wary on breezy days.My next destination was two-fold, as one rests atop the other. I refer to the Flooded Markets which float over the ancient Shipwreck Straits. Now, I know what you’re thinking, “But Teller, the Shipwreck Straits are a natural phenomenon” — not so! The shipwrecks themselves are manmade structures, and they do make for a fascinating display. The only trouble is you can hardly see them at the bottom unless it’s a perfectly lit day, with none of the three suns casting a glare on the surface. When you do catch a glimpse of the wreckage, it is fleeting and ambiguous, often distorted by the wakes of nearby ships.It is this traveler’s recommendation to simply focus on the Flooded Markets. This was a sight worth seeing! Imagine a bowl where market stalls and shops are all built into the curving interior wall as it rises to near vertical levels. The sheer weight of all that commerce has caused the mass to bowl down in the center, to the point where there is a veritable lake at the bottom! Truly a marvel, and it is this traveler's recommendation to make this stop a priority. I can think of no more impressive market than this, not to mention the goods are top quality and exotic.My next destination has excited me ever since hearing of it in a tavern, the Hot Baths of Frozen Fill. They were more glorious than I had heard. On the northwest side of Frozen Fill there are large wooden bathing tubs, fit for a dozen men, each filled with steaming water and many sweet smelling plant oils. The secret to the warm water is speculated to be Boiler Shark heating glands, though I suspect there is a simpler answer to this marvel. Simple or not, it is this traveler's recommendation to visit the Baths, especially during the Cold Season, so as to maximize the lovely effect of the warm water. It was so lovely, I had a hard time moving on to my next destination.The famous Windrock Cairn, which juts up high up from the sea, some several towers. This attraction compelled me to dive into its history, and what I found, dear reader, was very mysterious indeed! The stone itself is perfectly even in length on all sides, exactly 4 towers across. It is also extremely smooth, though there are imperfections brought about by time and weather. When I asked some local merchants if they knew anything of the Cairn, they become cagey and not a bit unfriendly. And I dare say this attitude put me off guard, and that night I did have the strangest dreams and restless sleep. While the Cairn is a very fascinating structure, unknown in origin, it is this traveler's recommendation to simply see it from afar or pass it by altogether.My next intended destinations were the Mines of Vohfay however, when I arrived in Broadfell and inquired about a visit, I was turned down rather swiftly. In all my past dealings with the Fellbin people, they all seem to greatly fear giving forth any sort of information, so I simply bought a fur coat and booked a charter northwest for my final destination. The Cloudborne Bridge that connects the larger ice mass of Coldor to the smaller one where the Cleave resides. This long narrow bridge is suspended high above the sea over an impossible distance. When I inquired as to the materials used to build such a magnificent structure, I was met with veiled answers and shrugs.Eventually I was able to ascertain the bridge was built with something called Saints stone. I was assured that the material was stronger than any other and yet lighter than the lightest wood. I must say, dear reader, I do not believe it. Never during my entire stay did anything so much as a billypug move across that bridge. Even if it is a clever ruse, the bridge is a marvel to behold and it is this travelers recommendation to do just that, but if offered a chance at traversing it’s height, I wouldn’t dare.From An Honest Travel Guide, written by Teller ‘Tell All’ Delkinmast in the 3rd Reckoned YearExcerpt, ‘Boldifar Strong Oar’Hear of Boldifar, strong Boldifar with sharp oar. Cut through water, impale the sea, did Boldifar. Bury oar in the sea, to pull ocean below his ship. Move worlds beneath his long ship, did Boldifar Strong Oar. Crossed the ocean in one pull of his strong arm. Boldifar did rend the world with his sharp oar.Called to distant seas, Boldifar began, called by the moon to fight the waves. To help tame the tides, Boldifar did set out on his long voyage. The sea made strong currents to keep him away, try to keep back Boldifar Strong Oar. But the moon gave aid to Boldifar, made flat the sea within his way. Now the wind, strong blowing wind, tried to push Boldifar back. Fought with the wind, strong Boldifar held fast with his thick arms. The moon did distract the wind, made the stars to twinkle and dance. The fierce wind was distracted, blew the wrong way and pushed Boldifar fast across the sea.The sea grew angry, roiled and thrashed, sent big whales to stop Boldifar. Tall whales swam to Boldifar, did beat his boat with their strong tails. The moon saw but could not help. Strong Boldifar, wise Boldifar, reached down his sharp oar into the sea. Stuck his oar into the rock, cut the water, impaled the sea, did Boldifar Strong Oar. Pulled the sea below and moved the sea and rock beneath. The rock did give under the strong arm of Boldifar, did get pushed out of the sea. Boldifar Strong Arm escaped the tall whales, sailed quickly to the distant seas.To tame the tides, the moon called Boldifar. Struck the sea and stabbed the water. Swirled the sea with his strong oar. Boldifar Sharp Oar put a hole in the sea, swirled the waters to drain down. Tamed the tides to aid the moon, did Boldifar with his sharp oar. Gave a name to him, called him Broadfell, for the broad sea fell before him. Blessed him and his kin, did the moon, blessed Boldifar with great strength. Now all know the name of Boldifar ‘Broadfell’ Strong Oar.From Fellbin Folklore, Author Unknown in the Unreckoned YearsWhile no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Thirty-Three) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Third Interlude)1st Day in the 1st of Delód’s Months, Rainy Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 127th Reckoned YearThe Vánüm language, or the Elder Tongue: Núl, sometimes stylized as Nul or Null, definition: disharmony, unbalance, or disunityFrom ‘Captain's Log’ of the Painful Lady, written by Captain Chapel in the 120th Reckoned YearA steady wind has been blowing for the past few hours, as if the Dead Ships sought to expel the Lady from their waters. Gray clouds have been building on the horizon ahead, tumbling over top of each other in eager anticipation of spilling their long-held rain. Petsune and The Big Man are sitting around the crate typically used to play Runny. The crew has been quieter since they met with the Hollow Tree, but Petsune doesn’t think the mood is sad or wary, just respectful.“You know what I mean, Pet?” The Big Man says.Petsune returns his wandering mind to the conversation. “I’m so sorry, Benafield. I’m afraid I got lost in my thoughts.”“Hah, that is okay. I could see it in your eyes.”“What were you saying?” Petsune asks.“I was saying that the Hollow Trees make me uneasy.” The Big Man says, looking deep into the grains of wood in the crate.“I agree… they are very strange. They seem to know too much.” Petsune muses.“Aye, that’s it. They know too much. I don’t like it.”Petsune thinks for a moment before responding. He is always careful to broach the subject of the divine with Benafield. Cautiously he begins, “I think… I think perhaps that is a healthy attitude to have. According to the, um, legend, it told me, Hollow Trees came from the Thünadín – the deepfoot and were given divine wisdom. To me it makes sense to be made uncomfortable in the face of something divine, because it isn’t of any familiar mold — it is… other. Does that make sense?”Benafield doesn’t respond right away, instead gazing out over the clear, flat ocean around them. When he speaks, he sounds quieter than usual, as though he is speaking to himself. “It makes sense, aye. And I think you are right…”“But?” Petsune prods lightly.“It’s not only discomfort of the divine,” The Big Man says, “I do not wish to offend, Pet. It is hard to talk of these things to you, because you are a priest, and I trust you. I like you. But I do not trust most.”“I understand,” Petsune says softly, “I have been hurt by the churches as well, it’s part of why I was excommunicated by the Sanctum and eventually asked to leave the Order. It has taken a long time for me to see past that hurt.”“How did you manage it? Because I have heard and seen the voice and hands of the church do terrible things, all in the name of their Saint. And I don’t know how to move past it.”“For me, I learned to lean on the words of the Saints rather than the words of people. I don’t know what will work for you. I wish I did.” Petsune says, regretfully.Benafield looks just the slightest bit sheepish, then he looks away and speaks. “And what if the words of the Saints hurt too?”Petsune bends his smile into a forlorn shape, and he answers. “Then… well, then I pray to understand them…” The Big Man gazes out at the water and points off to the encroaching wall of storm clouds. “Rains are coming. We’d best be heading inside.”The Big Man rises but Petsune raises a hand to stall him, “Wait, I was actually hoping to see the rain come in. I have never seen the rains from open sea.”“Oh, aye? Suppose you’ve not. Well, I will stay with you ‘till you go below decks.” Benafield says, sitting back down.The General appears then and tries to warn them inside. “Tut-tut, my friends. Best be heading inside, the rains will be here within the hour, I should say.”“Aye, we see them,” Benafield notes, “but Pet here wishes to see the rains come in.”Petsune nods, but Tarlatan appears baffled. “Good grief, whatever for? If you want to get wet, why not just hop overboard.”“I’ve lived my entire life on Thune Mass,” Petsune explains, “so this is my first chance to see the rains on the open sea.”The General considers the notion. “Mmm, I see. Well, perhaps I’ll join you then, if you’ll have me. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”“Hah,” The Big Man rumbles, “‘course we’ll have you, General.”“You may even be able to add some insight to our conversation, General.” Petsune says.“Oh? Mmm, I’m not sure how much insight this old man has left, but I’d be happy to try.”The General takes a seat on the empty barrel at the Runny table. Petsune looks at him and is glad to see that he seems to be doing better. The General is the first to speak. “So, what are we talking about, men?”Petsune doesn’t wish to set the topic to words, so he allows the Big Man to respond. “We were talking of the church and the hurt it has done us both — something you might relate to, General.”“Mmm, I see,” The General says quietly, “It’s not an easy thing to face condemnation from someone claiming to be backed by the Saints.”“Aye,” the Big Man agrees, “it is not.”Petsune decides that it may be wiser to allow space for these two to talk, rather than pushing the conversation somewhere. He listens contentedly, staring out at the gray clouds and the wall of hazy rain below them. The General’s face is thoughtful as he speaks. “Benafield, have you thought at all of the Hollow Tree’s story for you?”“Not much, why?”“Mmm, well,” Tarlatan muses, “they always tell particularly pointed stories, aimed right at their target. And this one was aimed at you. It may have been about this very thing.”Both Petsune and The Big Man consider this thought, and Benafield responds, “Aye, it may. The young painter need only ignore those that criticize his work, just as I need only ignore those priests in the Sanctum.”The General casts an askance glance at Petsune, but continues the conversation, “Indeed. The Hollow Trees have a way of knowing things. Doesn’t feel proper, but there it is. Perhaps it saw your internal conflict with the words of these True Souls?”“Aye, they do have a strange way of knowing…” The Big Man says.Tar and Benafield both stare off toward the storm front, and Petsune decides to add to the conversation. “I think that’s part of it, but I also think it goes deeper than that.”“Aye?”“Do go on, Pet,” The General says, waving a hand casually his way, “you’ve proven wiser than me, I should think.”Petsune says a quick prayer to the Saints that his words aren’t misunderstood and that he can convey his intentions. “I think you’re right, we should all ignore the hateful things people do in the name of the Saints, or even more than that — we should condemn them. It’s—”“Yeah, It ain’t right when priests are mean. They’s supposed to be all love-y all the time.”The Big Man, General Tar, and Pet all look up in surprise. Sprig’s youthful face and messy hair are poking out from between the railings of the quarterdeck. The General is the first to react. “You ought to be below decks, Sprig. The rains are coming.”“Yeah, I know,” Sprig says casually. He looks up at the storm wall, much closer now, then looks back down at Pet. “So, you’re like a devil-worshiper or somethin’? You worship death? That’s how’s I heard it.”The General again reacts first. “Sprig! You of all people ought to know—”“No, no. It’s alright. Children have a way of speaking plainly that we could all perhaps learn from.” Petsune smiles at Sprig, receiving a raised eyebrow in return. Petsune changes focal points as he speaks, looking at each of them individually, though he directs the conversation at Sprig. “I can’t say for certain, as I’ve never actually been to Coldor. But the way I understand it is not a worship of death, but a respect of it. An understanding that all things must end.”“Still seems weird.” Sprig chimes in.Petsune looks back up to his snaggle-toothed grin and says, “Think about it, Sprig. Everything ends. If it didn’t, then there would be no change or growth or anything. An ending is a symbol of completion and wholeness, and without one, things would likely go poorly.”“… what?” Sprig says with a quizzical look.Petsune is about to try and explain again, but The Big Man speaks before him. “Aye, that is well said, Pet. But there are those things that are ended abruptly — incomplete because of the ending. Would you not agree?”The General murmurs in assent, and Petsune agrees as well. “You’re right. And I don’t know why this is, but I know that it is so. I do not have an answer, but I believe in the goodness and wisdom of the Saints and that all things are in their control. For me, that is more comforting and convincing than the possibility that some things are beyond their reach. But you’re right, Benafield. And I do not have an answer as to why some things are brought to an early end. I wish to the Saints that I did.”Sprig breaks the silence with another leap in subject. “I miss Harlan…”Petsune responds without really thinking. “I’m surprised to hear you say that,” then realizing what he’s said, he hastily adds, “I don’t mean because, well, I just meant — I’m surprised since you always said he was no fun.”The General makes a sort of harumph noise, and The Big Man laughs lightly. Sprig responds without seeming hurt by Petsune’s words. “Yeah, he weren’t no fun. But he made it more fun to steal stuff ‘cause he were so keen-eyed. He always seen me somehow. Made it funner.”The group goes quiet at Sprig’s words, and Petsune is again reminded of the immoral habits the crew is fostering in the boy. In the vacancy of conversation, a faint sound can be heard in the distance. They all hear it and look to the advancing wall of storm clouds and rain. It is a faint drone, light in pitch but unvarying and constant. The Big Man gazes out fondly. “Reminds me of the Great Unpass in the north of the Keep. The cliff face is so vast and tall there that the clouds cover the top. Aye, some have taken to calling it the Stone Storm Wall.”The General looks at Benafield. “Do you ever miss it, lad? Your home.”“Aye, at times. I do miss the feeling of rock beneath my feet,” The Big Man says, “but when I left Broadfell, it was a hostile place to be.”The General looks intrigued. “Mmm, oh? How’s that? Seems rather a calm place.”The Big Man nods. “From outside, aye, it does seem calm. The Great Schism has been boiling there for many generations now though. There is much fighting between the Tör and the Sanctum.”The storm wall to the south flashes and grows closer. The pelting of rain against the surface of the ocean is a soothing sound from afar, but it is quickly becoming louder. Petsune thinks of Harlan and the Fāy-Núl Tör, pondering the words he said. “sometimes the most effective way to eliminate an enemy is not to cause pain or suffering, but to give them what they want most.”Petsune becomes lost in his thoughts, as he often does, and misses the General asking something of Benafield. The deep Fellbin voice draws Petsune back in. “No, it is not something many know. Fellpost HelBenledore does try to hide the division, but it is there. He has tried to stamp it out for years, but it has only gotten worse. There was—”“Here it comes!” Sprig cuts in. Petsune looks up and the storm wall is nearly upon them. A rushing line of splashing water extends as far as the eye can see. The once serene vista of motionless ocean is supplanted by a cascading downpour of water. It rolls over The Painful Lady in a roar, immediately drenching everything in the deluge. After a few moments, General Tar calls out loudly through the haze. “Right, we best be inside then!”They move quickly to the Captain's cabin, but Petsune pauses to gaze back out into the torrential rains. He can see the ocean become restless and begin to roil up in waves and swells, the peaceful place of the Straits giving way to the frantic rains. Once inside, the noise grows infinitely louder, an almost deafening roar against the wooden planks above their heads. Sprig is met with two bundles of careening fur that proceed to lap the water off his dripping wet face. Inside the cabin, Chapel is sitting at his desk amid delicately floating feathers; Shushilah is gazing at the map on the wall; Pickett is seated in a corner with a large stack of thick tomes, his nose buried in one of them; Bor is mixing some type of cold dish with coin-cut padada slices on top; and Sprig’s bird is contentedly cooing in the rafters.Petsune brushes off his Deepblood robes, which he recently converted into a more sea-worthy outfit. He girded the large open bottom into two leg holes, then hemmed it into loose capris, then he cut the baggy sleeves off, and added sewn in half-sleeves that were much tighter. He looks more like crew now than ever, and whenever he sees his reflection in the water, he briefly pauses in confusion. As he wipes the water from his altered Deepblood habit, he sees Chapel rise from his down covered chair and stand on the desk to shoo away Sprig’s bird. Chapel makes shooing motions toward the bird, and it flies over toward the upside-down bucket attached to the ceiling. Chapel dismounts the desk and Petsune watches the Captain climb the same shelf that fell last time. Petsune calls out, “Chapel, wait! That shelf isn’t—” but it gives out and the Captain ends up on the floor of the cabin amid guffaws and hollers from most of the crew. Sprig’s bird attempts to land neatly on Chapel’s head but doesn’t care for the moving target. The bird flies off to land in his recently vacated, and thereby warmed, chair.Petsune approaches and gives Chapel a hand, stifling laughs rather poorly. That is until he sees a worn leather parcel amid the debris of the broken shelf. Petsune points to it. “What’s that?”The Captain dusts himself off and grabs the leather bundle. Most of the crew have stopped laughing, instead becoming intrigued by the satchel. When Chapel opens it, Petsune sees his eyes go very wide. “What? What is it?” Petsune asks, concern creeping into his voice. Chapel carefully closes the satchel and hands it over to Petsune, again displaying that new attitude of reverence he had on earlier. Petsune hesitantly takes the leather bag and opens it as Chapel speaks. “You asked if this ship had any more secrets — looks like we just found one.”Petsune sees what is inside, but he is confused at the significance. As he begins to understand, however, he looks up at Chapel with a teary-eyed expression of wonder.While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Thirty-Two) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Thirty-Four)30th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned YearSaint Wōde appeared, disguised, to two wise men and he asked them both, “Is Truth beyond us?”The first man answered, “No, it is not beyond us because we can know Truth, if we seek it out.”The second man said, “Yes, it is beyond us, because it stands upon the divine, not the human.” Saint Wōde nodded and went on his way.From ‘Saint Wōde and the Wise Men’ Parable, King Wonum the Wise in his 5th Year of Reign and 6 Years Pre-ReckoningAs The Painful Lady drifts closer to the Hollow Tree, Petsune can see that it is a mossy green color, bearing no leaves. The branches spread out and into the air in a symmetrical pattern, and the trunk is thicker than a man. It isn’t overly large, but it is bigger than one of the trees in the Floating Forests. Chapel is standing atop the root again, but now he’s consulting his captain's log, looking from the tree back down to his book. When Petsune approaches and looks over his shoulder, he can see simple drawings of trees with descriptions. Chapel closes the logbook and says to Petsune, “This is a new one, I’ve never encountered it before.”Petsune considers the tree, finding it rather simple and almost unimpressive. He has always wanted to see one but finds himself underwhelmed. The marvel of the surrounding still ocean seems to have raised the bar for what is intriguing. Mavis calls out from the helm to drop anchor. Benafield made a temporary anchor by tying the anchor line on to a cannon. Before they drop it, Chapel calls out “Belay that, we don’t want to disturb the Dead Ships.”Petsune realizes then that this place, the Shipwreck Straits, is the final resting place of Chapel’s mother. Now Petsune understands the Captains solemnity and respect of the water.With no anchor to halt her, the Lady drifts right up to the Hollow Tree and then stops, as if ordained.The ocean remains as static as glass, reflections attached to the Lady and Tree as though they were roots. Nearly the entire crew is gathered at the starboard gunwale to look at the rare floating Hollow Tree. Petsune has read stories spoken by Hollow Trees, and always been intrigued by them and their wisdom, but he never dreamed he would see one himself. Mavis leaves the helm and joins the rest of the crew, coming to stand beside Petsune. Petsune sees the Hollow Tree moving and shaping its branches into a new pattern and for some inexplicable reason, he thinks the pattern looks inviting. Pet watches Chapel walk as far out on the root as he dares, and then without asking or thinking, Petsune follows. The crew doesn’t question Petsune as he stands and walks out on the adjacent root. The Tree seems to have been waiting for Pet, because once he sits, the Hollow Tree begins moving. For all of his knowledge regarding Hollow Trees, Petsune never understood how they spoke: was it with a voice, with signs, aloud or somehow in one’s head? He always wondered about this and finds himself holding his breath anxiously as the Hollow Tree moves.All of the Tree’s branches stem from a crux at the top, save for two shorter branches that stem from halfway up the trunk — almost like arms. These two branches begin to bend inward, and then tap on the trunk, each tap becoming a word or syllable that seems to echo from the hollow inside of the trunk. The voice of the Hollow Tree is breathy, punctuated by the rhythmic tapping against its trunk. The words seem to blow across the water to Petsune’s ears. “Who approaches Nutil-En-Eli-Tun?”Chapel looks over at Petsune and nods toward the Tree, so Petsune speaks hesitantly. “Uh, Petsune and Captain Chapel of The Painful Lady.”The upper branches of the tree all stir slightly, rattling with dry, hollow sounds of wood, then reform into a new pattern. Petsune isn’t sure how or why, but he thinks this new pattern feels respectful? The Tree speaks, “Petsune, Son of Hope, child of Nünéwoan and Höalám,”Petsune looks at Chapel and quietly asks, “What does that mean?”Before Chapel has time to speak however, the Tree continues. “and Captain Chapel, Place of Worship, child of Tiradel and Devishaw.”Chapel speaks at a normal volume and responds to Petsune, now that the Tree is silent. “The Hollow Trees are fascinated by names, best I can guess. They always tell me what my name means — Chapel: place of worship.”Petsune vaguely recalls the phrase from somewhere but can’t place where. “And that other part? Were those… my parents' names?”Chapel turns to look questioningly at Pet, “Of course—” then realization strikes him. “Oh, Pet… you didn’t know, did you?”Petsune’s eyes quiver as he quietly says, “How could I have? No one speaks of the North War. But… how did the Tree as…”Chapel answers the half-spoken question with a half-veiled answer. “Nobody knows.”Petsune recovers himself and speaks in a normal voice. “So, why does my name mean Son of Hope?”Before Chapel can respond, the mossy green Hollow Tree begins speaking again.There is the creaking sound like a ship's hull, and Petsune swears he can see the trunk shifting in size and shape with each syllable. “It is a Vánüm name: Pēt, for child, daughter, or son — and So͞on, for hope, future, or wish. A good name.”Petsune’s eyes widen at the revelation and Chapel smiles in surprise as well. The Hollow Tree continues rattling and tapping its trunk, and the windy whisper carries easily across the still sea. “To the one with an old name, I will tell a story. And to the one who is a place of worship, I will tell a story.”Petsune looks over at Chapel, but he merely shrugs. Hollow Tree interactions are unpredictable, sometimes they tell a single story and sometimes they speak conversationally — each Tree differing in personality. Chapel looks back to the Tree but Pet watches him still. Something seems different about the Captain. Pet isn’t sure if it’s something that changed since Chapel committed to being a better captain, or if it’s the presence of the Hollow Tree. Either way, the Captain appears uncharacteristically respectful, almost reverent. Petsune looks back at the rest of the crew at the railing, each face featuring an encouraging smile, except The Big Man who stares skeptically at the Tree. The Hollow Tree’s upper branches clatter and shift, clacking together with empty, reed-like noises, reminding Petsune of wind chimes. The branches reform into a pattern that give Petsune a new impression, a feeling of preparation and solemnity – like an intake of breath before a momentous endeavor. The two shorter branches begin tapping against the trunk again with their finger-like sticks, giving a voice to the Tree. “Listen well, you who would hear, to Nutil-En-Eli-Tun, Speaker of Stories. For the Child of Hope, a story. Listen well, for I am long in the telling.”Petsune sees Chapel sitting down on the root, and he glances behind to see some of the crew get comfortable on the railing, while a few wander off. Chapel’s attitude of respect permeates the crew as they look on. When Pet turns back around, he notices Chapel is preparing to write in his logbook. A cool wind blows from the south then as the Hollow Tree speaks, Petsune feels his skin prickle.“Before there was anything, there was the cold wind. A cold wind that blew through the empty void — a breath of life. But this breath needed speech to create. And so it Named itself the Nüm, ‘Breath, Life, Near, Everywhere, Air, and Wind’. From it’s name, it formed the Vá-nüm speech. Vá, ‘Voice, Sound, and Word’. The Nüm spoke and things were brought into being by the living Vánüm, each word being given form and life.“First named was the void: Yáš, ‘Darkness’. And the Yáš was given life. Then Nüm spoke: Ründ, ‘Bend, and Warp’, and Yáš was molded into a form. And Ründ was given form and life. Then Nüm spoke: Delód, ‘Change, and Shift’ and the Yáš became solid. And Delód was given form and life. Then Nüm spoke: Wōde, ‘Steal, Take, and Replace’ and a portion of Yáš was taken, leaving it still and solid and separate. And Wōde was given form and life. These were the first great words.“Then Nüm spoke: Wōsán, ‘Water, and Liquid’ and the still and solid Yáš became filled by the Wōsán. Then Wōde was reversed: Edów, ‘Give, Gift, and Lend’ and the Yáš that was taken was given to the Wōsán. And the Wōsán began to move and roil. Nüm named the darkest part of the Wōsán: Thüne, ‘Depths, and Deep’. These were the second words spoken.“Then Nüm spoke a new kind of thing: Thün-a-Dín, ‘Depth dweller’. And a great, shelled creature was made to move along the ground of the deep. Then Nüm spoke to the Thünadín and said: Hól, ‘Calm, Quiet, and Wise’ and the great Thünadín began to move slowly through the deep. Then Nüm spoke: Hól-Völ, ‘Wise Plants’ and on the backs of the Thünadín grew trees of great wisdom. These were the third words spoken.“Nüm Edów the Vánüm to the first of the creations: to Yáš, to Ründ, to Delód, to Wōde. With the Vánüm speech, Yáš spoke and filled itself with Völ, ‘Plants’, and with Vöh, ‘Rock and Earth’. Wōde loved the Wōsán and wished it to be filled. And so Wōde spoke: Fás, ‘Fish’ and the Wōsán began to teem with all manner of life.“Delód loved the Thüne of Wōsán and wished it to be filled. And so Delód spoke and filled the Thüne of the Wōsán with Dōm-Fáss, ‘Big Fish’ and the Thüne began to teem with all manner of life. Ründ loved the Vöh that was not of the Wōsán and wished it to be filled. And so Ründ spoke and filled the Vöh with Ané-Vöh, ‘Animal Earth’ and the dry Vöh began to teem with all manner of life. These were the fourth words.“Now it was that Ründ, Delód, and Wōde wished for a new kind of thing, a living thing that would love their creations as they did. And so they each spoke together: Gōr, ‘Body, Blood, and Flesh’ and a form was made in their own image. But the form was lifeless and without Nüm. Then the cold wind blew and Nüm saw what had been made. Nüm spoke: Cól, ‘Energy, and Essence’ and filled the form. All saw the Cól-Gōr, and all were pleased by the making. These were the fifth words.“And it happened that Nüm watched all that had been created and felt that it was good. Yet one thing lacked still. The Fás swam endlessly in the Wōsán, the Dōm-fáss lumbered unceasingly through the Thüne, the Ané-vöh crawled indefinitely upon the Vöh, and the Cól-gōr lived unending lives upon Yáš. Nüm saw all of this and spoke a final word: Vésh, ‘End, Finish, and Complete’ and the final great word was spoken. And Vésh was given form and life.“Vésh saw all that had begun upon Yáš, and all that was continuing to begin, but did not see any ending. And so it was that Vésh gave to all things an ending. Nüm saw this and felt that it was very good. But the great words became bitter at the ending of their beloved creations, and they shunned Vésh for the deed.Petsune finds himself yanked back to the present. He is pulled forcefully from the grips of the Hollow Tree’s story as it ends abruptly. He knows without asking that the story is one belonging to the Cleave, and he wishes he could hear more. Instead, the Hollow Tree shifts it’s upper branches into a new pattern that feels theatrical, almost grandiose.“For the one who is a place of worship, a story. Listen well,”Chapel stops writing down the Vánüm words from the first story, instead paying complete attention to the new story. The Tree begins tapping its trunk and words form from deep within.“There was once a tree that was friends with the sky. The two delighted in the beauty of the other. The tree would say to the sky, ‘You are so wide and so blue, you cover all that can be seen, and yet you are not bound to the earth. I wish I were more like you.’ Then the sky would say to the tree, ‘You are wide enough to shade the land beneath you, green enough to stand out from afar, and a refuge for many animals. Do not try to be what you cannot. You are a tree, and I am the sky.’ The tree did not listen however and sought to become more like the sky. Seeking to become blue, the tree sloughed all of it’s leaves until nothing but bare branches remained.“The tree looked at it’s reflection in the lake below and was pleased. The sky saw this and said to the tree, ‘Why have you done this? Now you are no longer green, and I can no longer play among your leaves.’ But the tree simply stated, ‘I will be more like you.’ The sky responded with the same words as before, ‘Do not try to be what you cannot, or you will lose what you have.’ But the tree did not heed the words of the sky.“Next, the tree sought to become as wide as the sky and cover all that could be seen. It stretched it’s branches wider and wider, until they became too heavy to support. The branches broke and fell to the ground. The sky saw this and said to the tree, ‘Why have you done this? Now you are no longer a place for birds to rest, and you provide no shade or shelter. I can no longer play among your leaves, and now I cannot even rattle your branches with my wind.’“The tree felt saddened by the loss of it’s branches, but it simply stated, ‘I will be more like you.’ The sky watched the tree with pity. Only a trunk remained where the beautiful tree once stood. Finally, the tree sought to remove itself from the earth to be free like the sky. The tree pulled up its roots from the ground, but soon toppled over onto its side.“The tree was greatly saddened at its pitiable state, and now it began to wither without roots in the ground. The sky saw the tree and grew very sorrowful, ‘You wished to be what you were not, and now you have lost even that which you were.’ The tree simply said the same words, ‘I will be more like you.’ and continued to wither away.”Chapel begins mulling over the story once it ends, sensing an intentional and knowing touch on the story. He stands as Petsune does likewise, until they begin to hear the Tree rattling again. Petsune looks to the remaining crew at the railing with a questioning look on his face. Shushilah just shrugs but The Big Man continues to watch the Tree skeptically. The upper branches rearrange again with rattling shakes and tremors. This time the pattern appears almost sad, or perhaps pained in some way. The Hollow Tree’s shorter limbs begin clacking against the trunk, causing that strange, breathy speech to emanate from inside. Chapel is reminded of a wooden branch filled with rolling beads that he saw in the Oullman once. The Tree begins telling another story,“For the one that bears the Tradition of Names, a story. Listen well,“A master painter, respected across the seas, painted a simple scene. It was of a ship that was moored at a dock, with a man carrying a crate across the gangway. People came from far away to marvel at the master painter’s work. All who saw it loudly proclaimed it’s quality. Soon the master painter sold the work for a small fortune, and all agreed the price was fair.“At the same time, an amateur painter, with no experience or teaching, painted a complex scene. It was of the dozens of royal navy ships floating in the harbor, with expert detail in every ship and rope. It was as though he had been painting for years and been taught in the finest of schools. Only a few ever saw the painting, however, and those that did gave it only a passing glance. After years of display, someone finally purchased it for a meager sum, and even then, complained of the price.“The two painters were equally skilled and painted almost the same thing, yet one sold for a fortune and the other, a pittance. When the amateur painter finally sold his own, he recalled the master painter’s work. The amateur quit painting that very hour, never again lifting a brush. And so, the world was deprived of his work.”The Hollow Tree ceases moving its branches, going completely silent and still. Petsune looks back at The Big Man and sees conflicting emotions playing across his face. It seems that the unexpected story meant something to him, though Petsune cannot say exactly what. Somehow the Tree knew that he was there, almost as though it could sense the need for a story. Pet and the Captain both climb over the railing and back onto the deck, meeting the Big Man at the railing. He seems lost in thought, so Pet attempts to break the silence. “That was a strange experience…” Pet says as he glances back at the Tree, “seems like we have some thinking to do. Perhaps some talking too.”Benafield doesn’t meet their eyes, still seeming lost in thought as he mutters out a response. “Aye, it does seem so…”Chapel appears thoughtful, then calls over Mavis and The General, giving the order to change the sails from blue to green. The Big Man and Mavis appear the slightest bit shocked, but The General sees the tactical advantage immediately, “Mmm, yes. We’re already stopped and out of sight of the Haul. A sound decision, I say.”Chapel doesn’t smile or wink. Instead, he appears very introspective, then he simply walks away. Petsune watches him go, looking at The Big Man, who shrugs and walks off to help change the sails.While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Thirty-One) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Thirty-Three)30th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year…The anger of a boiler shark, like blood in the water.A love of hurt and death and pain, caught the son from his fisherman father.He hooked his prey and he slew his enemy; he made the sea to boil.He baited the kind and he kicked the weak; he sowed ash into soil.He beguiled the sea and had not a friend to speak of.Vengeance for his fisherman father was all he could think of…From Act I of ‘The Boiler Shark and the Fisherman’s Son’, Finger Weaver tale, written by Tragedy Mill in the 75th Reckoned YearThe last four days have passed as a blessedly uneventful routine. Petsune would rise, help with the standard maintenance of the ship, see to his daily duties which were on a rotating schedule, and pick someone to learn more about. After the loss of Harlan, Pet became determined to know this crew, not merely be comfortable with them. Could he even call them family until he truly knew them, and they, him?Four days ago, he had chosen Cheese, though the only thing Pet learned about her was that she came onto the crew recently and has a pension for pranks. He remembers a subtle impression that her name had a story Chapel didn’t wish to tell, and when he asked, she simply said, “When I’m three sheets to the wind, it sounds like I’m sayin’ ‘cheese’, ‘stead of ‘cheers’”.Curiously though, when Pet asked The Big Man, the answer was completely different. Benafield said she was called Cheese because when Chapel found her, she was marooned on a newly made Mass, only about a tower wide, and the first thing she asked for was cheese. Shushilah said she used to have a pet rat that would frequently bite her, as if it thought she was cheese. He asked each crew member, save for Chapel, and he received a completely different answer each time. He gave up trying to figure it out, instead enjoying the enigma that was Cheese. The day after he tried to become better acquainted with Cheese, he sought out Sprig.It turns out that Sprig and Pickett came as an inseparable unit. They had run away from a horrible orphanage on a place called Balehorn Mass in the lower southeast region of the Sea of Saints. When Pet asked Pickett what a Balehorn was, he explained that it was a seahorse roughly the size of a man, capable of splitting rock with the horn on its face and was known to carry a specific rock in the curl of its tail for the duration of its life. Sprig hadn’t seemed in the mood for more questions, so instead Petsune learned about sea life from Pickett. He learned of the nine different species of sea turtles, of which he now only remembers three. He learned about the boulder and pebble claw crabs, as well as something called a pinchfast crab which sounded very fascinating. The only other creature Pickett mentioned that Pet remembers by name was something called a feverweep, which is eel-like and can unhinge its mouth wide enough to swallow a small sailboat, whole — hard to forget that one. The day after learning about new horrors in the deep, Petsune spoke with Bor and learned a great deal about the art of food.Bor seemed very cagey about his craft, but Bor seems reluctant to talk in general. Eventually Bor deigned to lecture Pet on all the finer points of cooking: the time, requirements, and final test all seemed grueling to say the least. Anyone working under the title of Bor must have been trained by one of the eight WinBor’s, who all take on one apprentice a year. It then takes five years of study and cooking, which all culminates in the Final Feast: a test in which your master WinBor and two others eat a meal created by you, judging whether you have earned the title of Bor. After the long-winded lecture, Petsune understood why Bor went by the title rather than his name. Yesterday, Petsune pried into the mind and life of The Big Man.Pet had the minor ulterior motive of learning why Benafield had such anger in his eyes a few days earlier. He cannot ever remember seeing the Big Man upset or even agitated, thinking of him more as gentle than angry. Benafield was easily forthcoming about his time in the mines of Vohfay, and even spoke freely on the loss of his family, but something happened after that and before the Lady. Pet only came to this conclusion after careful questions and a willingness to listen. They surprised each other for inverse reasons: Benafield was surprised at Petsune’s willingness to simply listen and not interject, while Pet was surprised The Big Man wasn’t more hesitant to speak. Pet resolved to return to this conversation with The Big Man at some point. Today however, he planned on speaking with Shushilah.Despite the rations getting progressively worse, Pet finds his mood improving each day, unlike Bor who has to endure the Haul’s larder. The simple schedule and the familiar environment have helped him regain some lost peace. His positivity is occasionally beset by attacks whenever he remembers where they are sailing and why, but he tries not to let that ruin his trip. One thing that does concern him is the Shipwreck Straits. They should be sailing into the unsettling stretch of water any moment now. Petsune finishes the dishes and begins seeking out Shushilah to pass the time. He finds Shush in the crow’s nest on lookout duty. When he climbs into the nest Shushilah seems pleased to see him. “Hello, friend Petsune. You are coming for the view, I’m thinking?”Shushilah gestures out toward the southern horizon off the bow. Pet responds while turning to look. “No, I actually just wanted to talk with you and…” Petsune’s words die off as he sees what Shushilah meant. At first, he thinks his eyes are playing a trick on him. Just ahead, the water changes in color, shifting from a deep vibrant blue to a very light sky blue with patches of barely discernible green, yellow and red. This isn’t too surprising, many seas seem to possess their own color pallets: the Slick Sea of Broadfell has pinkish tones from the red whale oil, the Green Sea of Dintash is verdant with tower vines, and the Strange Sea in the uncharted south is said to be black as night. No, what Pet sees now is a preternatural stillness. The water isn’t moving at all, it is perfectly still and undisturbed, not even a ripple on the surface.The Painful Lady glides into the Shipwreck Straits as Petsune cautiously rises and stares down at the eerie sight. “What…”Despite not finishing the thought, Shushilah answers the unspoken question. “Nobody knows why the sea is so still here. Is a question many have asked. In the Oullman, we call it the Still Sea. And another thing: no salt. Is just water.”Once the ship passes fully into the Straits, Petsune realizes with a shock that the water isn’t the color of a light sky blue, it is simply reflecting the sky like a vast mirror. But when Pet looks down, leaning far over the edge of the crow’s nest, he doesn’t see only the sky's reflection. Behind the thin reflection on the surface, Petsune can see straight down to the sea floor. His eyes go wide in amazement as he gapes at the sight. It is as though they are flying, and towers below he can see solid ground — the bottom of the sea. Pet has never been to Broadfell Keep, and so he has never seen solid ground before. There, far below the hull of the Lady, are swathes of green and red plants growing in sweeping patches amid yellow sands and dark colored rocks. Pet climbs out of the crow’s nest, completely forgetting Shushilah for the time being. He climbs down the ropes slowly, finding it hard to take his eyes off the unmoving water. It is silent, the still waters not lapping at the hull or causing the ship to sway and creak. Even the prattlebeaks roosting in the branches of the ship have gone uncommonly quiet. Some of the crew are on deck, looking out at the Straits ahead, but no one makes a sound. The atmosphere is a mixture of equal parts reverence and unease.Petsune makes his way to the starboard railing where Chapel stands atop one of the roots that descend to the water. Pet climbs over and stands on the whaler's platform that wraps around the ship. He leans over, holding on to the root above, and he looks straight down. The shadow of the boat affords Pet a perfect view through the surface to the world below. He reaches out slowly, intending to touch the water but Chapel touches his shoulder. Petsune looks back and up at Chapel who shakes his head. “We don’t touch the water here.”“Why? It seems so odd.”“A lot of people died here in the aftermath of the Shot, so I try to be respectful whenever I pass through. Some say the souls of those lost that day somehow stilled the waters permanently, others believe a deepfoot died here. Nobody really knows why the waters are still.”Petsune looks back to the glassy ocean. “I’m surprised I’ve never heard of this…”Chapel looks out at the waters as well. “People don’t like to talk about the Shipwreck Straits, mostly because of what happened here, but there’s a superstition around this place too. Not good, but not really bad either. Just a place with a… strangeness.”Petsune stares down through the window-like surface, and he begins to see debris on the bottom. First, he sees chunks of unknown objects, wooden debris, and the shapes of cannons. As they sail further into the Straits, entire ships begin appearing on the bottom, some sunken during the North War, others more ancient and mysterious.The shipwrecks are teeming with life: forests of lush, green, tower vine stretching to the sun and swaying gently the slight movements of fish; fields of lumpy, brown snag weed; thickets of long, twisting sharksbane; yellow bushes of dogfur reeds; large, spidery trees of fickle willow; and the bulbous, red mouths of enticing blisker leaf pitchers. Swimming over and through the flora and flotsam are innumerable creatures of all colors, sizes and shapes. There is a swirling school of muckfins being herded carefully by several large wakefolders; there are sudden glints of shimmering runnkykits as they dart in and out of various plants; there’s a slow moving group of four rockshell turtles and two of the larger bulkhead turtles swimming closer to the surface and casting roaming shadows down on the sand; and there are slick skin sharks patrolling the wreckage, searching for an easy meal. Petsune stares down in awe at all of this and more, a world teeming with life and color. He doesn’t recognize many of the fish or plants and thinks of Pickett, finding the expanse of his knowledge all the more impressive.Petsune looks up at the horizon as the Lady continues gliding soundlessly above the active sea life below. The glassy sea makes for an unusual horizon, boating a nearly perfect reflection of the sky above. The clouds morph and coagulate into shapes as Petsune watches, until something catches his eye. There is a single blotch on the horizon that stands out, an odd dark protrusion into the invariable line of sea and sky. Pet is about to point it out to Chapel when he hears the Captain call out loudly. “Hollow Tree, straight off the bow.”Petsune reluctantly climbs back onto the main deck where Chapel is. Pet asks, “What's going on?”“There’s a Hollow Tree ahead, and I always stop when we see them.”The deck is bustling with energy and activity as the crew furls the sails and makes ready to stop when they reach the Hollow Tree. From the glimpses he catches, Pet is given the impression the crew looks forward to these encounters. Chapel begins walking off toward his quarters, and Petsune follows him. The Captain appears thoughtful as they enter his cabin and Petsune asks him a question as he grabs something off his desk. “How many Hollow Trees have you come across during your years of roaming?”Chapel considers, “Hmm, well, let me think… there were four, plus the one by Windrock, oh and the one in the Strange Sea — so six, I think?”“In all these years, that’s it?”“Yeah. They’re very rare and they move, so you never know where they’ll be.”Petsune thinks about this and then considers something. “Shouldn’t we flag down the Haul, tell them we’re stopping?”“Witt will understand. He said he trusts us to get there, and we already split the rations up.”Chapel says all of this without his characteristic pluck and mirth, and Petsune wonders if it is simply the loss of Harlan weighing on Chapel, or something more. They exit the cabin and can see the Hollow Tree is closer now. Pet feels a buzzing energy as he begins to discern the shape of it.While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Thirty) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Thirty-Two )25th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year…There are those with the sea in their eyes and the wind in their hearts. They breathe the sun and speak the language of ships. They stand in the deep and swim through the shallows. Their name is earned and cannot be given, it is felt more than it is spoken. These are those that we call Captains, and to them we say, ‘May the Saints fill your sails and the sea find your star.’From ‘Christening Speech’ for the first King’s Fist, delivered by High Priest Lombit, transcribed by Scribe Yuldo-Lan in the Unreckoned YearsBoth the King’s Haul and The Painful Lady bob gently on the surface of the water in the early morning light. They are lashed together using the tether that saved the Haul, preventing the Lady from drifting away due to its lack of anchor. They sailed as conjoined ships far enough away from the Flower to ensure a peace of mind, then they dropped the Haul’s anchor. After consulting his own maps and sextant, Wittkinson ascertained where they are. The Flower appears to have spat them out into the Slick Sea, home of the red whale and the Broadfell Navy. The Kingdom of Dintash is closely allied with Broadfell, so Wittkinson isn’t concerned about being in foreign waters. He is, however, distraught over not only having been delayed in reaching the Royal Mass, but also becoming farther from it than a few days prior. When Chapel boarded The Painful Lady last night, he was told the news of Harlan’s death. It was the first time Petsune saw him cry, and it made Pet feel guilty for not being more upset by the news. Once they lashed the two ships together to sleep for the night, Chapel held a small funeral by the light of the second Saint’s moon, and Pet carried out the rites that he had seen Father Haltur enact a few times before. He said some words he wasn’t sure were true for him; about losing a family member and friend, and so on. They each tied a deadweight to Harlan’s spear, and let it sink ceremoniously off the side of the Lady. It was a bittersweet night of reunions and grief, and Chapel was grateful to Wittkinson for giving them time to mourn and rest before striking out again.Petsune fell asleep as soon as he laid his head down, but now that he is awake, he recalls a fitful rest. His dreams were strange and elusive, yet familiar. He remembers standing alone in a strange building yet feeling like he should know the place. Standing in front of him was an ageless man dressed in ragged cloaks and a crafty smile. He spoke, but his mouth did not move. “They have stolen from you, Son of Hope.”A soft, cold breeze blew through the room and suddenly Pet was deep underwater, sinking. Above him, silhouetted against a cobbler’s moon, was a featureless woman, familiar yet unknown. She had no features but was instead a surface of changing light and shadows. She too spoke into his mind. “They have changed the story, Son of Hope.”Pet looked below him into the very depths, and the darkness seemed to crawl and move. The movement wasn’t the ground, but a passing deepfoot, unbelievably colossal. The sheer size of its shell made it seem like the very ocean floor was moving. A low throaty rumble sounded from the ancient and mythical deepfoot, echoing through the primordial sea, reverberating through Petsune’s bones. It was like the sound a groaning ship’s hull makes, but infinitely deeper and louder. When Pet looked back up, the woman was gone, and he was suddenly on an empty floating mass. This time in front of Pet was a wizened old man, his back bent with age and his dress ornamental and glowing. More words sounded inside Pet’s head. “They have bent the truth, Son of Hope.”The old man pointed a gnarled finger behind Pet, where he saw the ocean. A storm flashed and cracked overhead, and the waters roiled. Time seemed to freeze then, and the waves stopped moving. The woman of darkness and stars appeared on the frozen surface then, reaching below the water with her pale hand. She pulled out a figure from the depths and began leading them away, out across the impermeable water. Petsune could be wrong, but he thought it was Harlan. She sent the figure on without her, turning to speak into Petsune’s soul. “They have ended their faith, Son of Hope.” And that’s all he remembers before waking up.Petsune emerges from the crew quarters, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The Saint’s sun is only half above the horizon, and it shines a blinding pink light across the water from the East. Shushilah is already awake, staring out at the first sunrise and the light glittering off the sea. Petsune approaches and asks Shush, “Have you seen the Captain?”“Which one? They are all on the Haul, I’m thinking. Plotting a course, yes?”“You have some medical background, don’t you?”“Ah, yes. A little bit, from my father.”“Would you mind coming with me to check on the injured soldiers?”“Of course, Pet. Of course. Will be keeping me busy, I’m thinking.”Petsune does a casual sweep about the Lady looking for Chapel, all while ruminating on his strange dream. When he doesn’t find the Captain aboard the Lady, he and Shush decide to check aboard the King’s Haul. When they step off the gangway, they are greeted by Bungle and Tussle. “What are you two deviants doing over here?” Pet says. But they scamper off dragging a worn leather boot. Most of the soldiers seem to be sleeping while they are allowed. Pet hears voices coming from Officer Wittkinson’s quarters, so the two of them begin walking that way. Petsune’s mind swirls with thoughts and emotions, but he is certain everyone else feels the same way.Chapel, Wittkinson, and Mavis are all in the captain's quarters of the King’s Haul discussing what to do. Petsune and Shushilah enter the room, but they don’t interrupt the conversation, instead heading to the two injured soldiers set up near the stern. Chapel continues speaking. “Well, we could sail to the west, around the Flower, but my ship emptied it’s stores before leaving the Misty Shoals. We’ll run out of food before we reach another Mass.”Wittkinson speaks up, “There is no Dintish Mass or Fellbin Post between here and the Royal Mass. The nearest one is Red Post, north of here, in Fellbin Bay.”Mavis doesn’t speak, instead he seems to try to keep himself from saying anything, so Chapel responds. “What if you let us go to Red Post to resupply, then we met you at Dintash Mass?” Wittkinson looks about to object, so Chapel preempts his argument. “If we don’t show up within three days of you, you can have us branded enemies of the crown — put a bounty on us.”Mavis speaks up in a heated growl, unable to contain himself any longer. “We saved your life, Officer. But you’ve already cost us one of ours.”Chapel defends Wittkinson, “This isn’t his fault Mavis, he —”“Yes it is! It is. He insisted we tempt the Flower, pushed for this route, and against my better judgment, I followed. Maybe if I hadn’t…”Wittkinson looks away in a wince, feeling the stinging truth of Mavis’s comment. Chapel pats Mavis on the shoulder and tells him to get some fresh air, so Petsune walks out of the cabin with him. Chapel looks back to Wittkinson. “I’m sorry, he and Harlan —““It’s alright,” Wittkinson says coldly, “He’s right. It was my decision.”Wittkinson stays quiet, then Chapel speaks. “We will stay with you. We can share rations, or fish along the way. We’ll figure out something.”“Are you certain?” Wittkinson replies, surprised at Chapel’s statement.“Yeah. I need to get to Dintash Mass as urgently as you, but for different reasons.” Chapel gives Wittkinson a soft smile, much more reserved than his usual self, then he nods to Shushilah and walks out of the cabin.Petsune and Mavis are standing at the portside railing, though they don’t seem to be speaking. Chapel joins them without saying a word. Mavis is the first to speak. “It just doesn’t seem right, Captain.”“I know.” Chapel says.“We’ve never lost a crew member before. I’d forgotten what it’s like…”Petsune hesitantly speaks up. “I… I had a thought earlier.”Chapel glances to Pet. “Well? What was it?”Petsune sees that the normally jovial air of Chapel has been beaten down, or subdued and it saddens him. He speaks somewhat hesitatingly, “If this is the first time you’ve… lost someone, maybe we ought to get the crew together and talk about — for Sprig’s sake. He’s bound to take this hard, and he hasn’t worked through this process before.” No one speaks for a few moments, so Petsune hastily adds, “I don’t know, I just thought maybe we should talk it through. That’s what we did in the Order, and it seemed to help…”Mavis sniffs quietly and says, “I’d do it for Sprig.”Chapel seems to think about the idea for a moment before speaking. “I think it’s a good idea, Pet. Not just for Sprig, but for all of us. Plus, there’s something I wanna talk to everyone about.”Petsune raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask any further questions. Mavis straightens up from leaning on the railing, discreetly wiping his eye. “Right. Well, I’ll go gather the crew. Where do you want us, Captain?”“Thanks, Mavis. Let’s do the captain's quarters. I’ll be there in a bit.”Mavis says, “Aye, aye, Captain.” then walks off toward the gangway linking the ships.Petsune waits a moment with Chapel, silently watching the light on the ripples in the sea. The Saint’s sun has risen and begun casting a blinding light across the water, causing oily rainbows to appear on the surface and reflect in shapeless patterns. Petsune senses that Chapel wants a moment to himself, so he walks back over to The Painful Lady. Chapel is left alone at the railing for a few minutes before the soldiers rise. He watches the streaks of pinkish rainbows in the red whale oil on the surface of the calm sea. He sees a small rockshell turtle swimming by, only about 15 feet across, it’s shell refulgent in the light. Seeing the creature makes Chapel seem to decide something internally. He then walks back over to the Lady as the first few soldiers begin waking. He passes by Bungle and Tussle having a tug-of-war match with some nondescript item. Chapel whistles and they both drop the item they were shredding, bounding along behind him toward the captain's quarters. Chapel opens the door and finds the crew in the middle of various activities, some mirthful but most are subdued. Bor is positioning a tray of sweetbread and grapples; Cheese is devouring an enormous hunk of whale fruit and sitting on Chapel’s table; Mavis, the Big Man, and Shushilah are all sitting in the chairs around the table, staring off at nothing. Petsune is looking at the map on the wall.For a second after Chapel enters the cabin, he can see Sprig sitting under the table staring at the floor. It twists Chapel’s insides to see, until Bungle and Tussle charge into the room and bowl over the only thing on a level playing field. Sprig is pushed over by sniffs and licks and seems the slightest bit cheered up. Chapel stands for a second before speaking. “Alright. Family meeting. There’re some things I want to tell all of you and I wanted to open it up for everybody to have the chance at speaking.”Everyone is attentive as Chapel begins. “I realized something while I was aboard the Haul: I haven’t been a very good captain.”When Chapel says this, there is an immediate disquiet, but only General Tar speaks up. “Now, just wait a drowning minute. You’ve been a fine Captain and —”“No,” Chapel says, and the General quiets, “no, I haven’t been. I’ve been a decent friend, maybe, but not a great leader.”The General doesn’t say anything this time. Petsune feels his opinion of Chapel increase rather than decrease. Chapel finishes speaking. “I’ve been avoiding my responsibility because it scares me. I don’t want to become my father… but from now on, I will do better. I will be your captain, if you’ll have me.”Everyone stands one at a time, giving forceful Aye’s until Sprig is the last one left sitting on the floor. Chapel crouches down with one hand on the table, staring at Sprig until he looks up. Both Bungle and Tussle are huddled under each arm, staring up at Sprig. When he looks up at Chapel, his youthful eyes are quivering with unspent tears. Sprig simply chokes out, “But it was my fault…” Chapel pulls him out into a hug and soothes him.The rest of the crew is there in a blink, each squeezing Chapel and Sprig, until the Big Man gives them all a tight squish. Chapel speaks softly to Sprig. “It was not your fault, Sprig. It wasn’t. Mavis told me what happened. You were doing a good thing, trying to help these two,” Chapel pats Bungle and Tussle’s heads, “Harlan cared so much for you, why do you think he was always keeping an eye on you? He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he didn’t do everything in his power to save you.”Mavis speaks to Sprig then, with a hitch in his voice. “An he wouldn’t have wanted you to feel responsible, lad. He was proud, and he chose to do what he did.”Sprig sniffs loudly and wipes his face on his sleeve, which Bungle begins licking at. Chapel let’s go of Sprig and everyone returns to their place. It becomes quiet, and a slight tension begins to creep into the room. Petsune breaks the silence and the tension ebbs. “I also have something I want to say. It’s not really related, or at least not directly, and I’m sorry I haven’t told anyone really until now, though some of you know already, and I just, um, I wanted to uh —”Shushilah cuts off Petsune with a reaffirming word. “Is okay, Pet. Take your time.”Petsune breathes out a long sigh then tries speaking again. “I wanted to tell all of you this, but was afraid you would treat me differently. I know I was wrong to think that. I wanted to tell all of you that I am Coldor… but it’s more than that.” Pet pauses briefly, then says it at last, “I’m the heir to the Cleave. My parents were responsible for the North War.”There are shocked murmurs and a few wide eyes. The Big Man speaks softly. “Oh, little Pet. I am so… so sorry. You must be feeling many things since the proclamation of war against your people.”Petsune isn't surprised at the reaction, and yet there is a noticeable feeling of relief that accompanies speaking the truth. He knows these people, he thinks of them as family, and yet part of him still wondered what they would say.Petsune wipes tears from his eyes and speaks through a wide smile. “Thank you, Benafield. That means a lot.” The Big Man walks over and squeezes Petsune in a tight hug, and Pet feels as though he is being juiced. Perhaps it is just Pet, but the room seems to radiate a sense of bonding, everyone drawing in closer emotionally. When Benafield releases Petsune from his intense hug, he doesn’t walk away. Instead, he searches deep in Petsune’s eyes, and they seem to plumb the depths of each other's souls. The Big Man speaks softly, but in the low soothing rumble of his Fellbin voice. “Belief is no excuse for hate…”Yet when he says this, Petsune feels as though he sees a smoldering hatred in his eyes. There is a deep-seated hurt there that Petsune empathizes with and wishes he could explore, but now isn’t the time or place. Chapel speaks to the room in a clear voice. “Well, alright. I think that’s about it. From here, we’ll sail south across the Dead Ships and arrive at the Royal Mass around the same time as the rains.”Cheese speaks up from the side of the cabin. “Aye, that ain’t it? What we doin’ to help Pet? In case you forgot, there’s a war gonna happen.”Chapel says, “Well, we’re doing the only thing I could think to do. Trying to stop the war. If I can convince my father to talk to King Feyaz, maybe we can help that way.”Chapel seems to hear how fragile his plan is, and he twists his mouth in debate. The General speaks next, though he seems hesitant. “But… if the Coldor truly did kill Bornidin the Young, would the Dintish not be justified in seeking retribution and such? I don’t mean to blame your people, Pet, I’m merely trying to voice both sides — Vésh’s advocate and all. Ahh, wait — I’m sorry, Pet. You must forgive an old goat his missteps.”Petsune nods in appreciation for the consideration and gives The General a smile showing there’s no harm done. Shushilah responds to The General’s concern. “And why start the fighting again now? They started the North War, and now they are starting another, I’m thinking. What has changed? Is a good question to be thinking about.”Chapel appears to be done with his internal debating and he speaks again. “I think… there may not be a simple answer, but regardless. Whatever we can do to help Petsune directly, I think we will all agree is a worthy action.”The entire crew murmurs in assent.The family meeting becomes a mingling of conversations as Chapel walks toward Petsune. The Captain motions him aside and says in a quieter voice. “I wanted to tell you one other thing, something that I have failed to say a few times now. You just showed a lot of courage, and I think I owe you the same.”“Okay?” Petsune says hesitantly.“See, I knew a lot about you before we met. I told you how your mother died, ending the North War. But I never said how I knew a baby was taken when she was killed.”Petsune knows it before he says it, and it still feels like a deadweight that was dropped onto his chest. Chapel appears despondent when he looks at Pet. “My father is the one who killed her. He ended the North War, though at the time, he would’ve preferred to continue his… campaign.”It seems to pain him when the Captain says it, but Petsune is surprised to find it doesn’t hurt him. Instead, he says, “What happened? Why’d he stop?”“King Bornidin the Young called the navy to return. The Oullman was all too happy to end the fighting after the previous leader died in the war. Fellpost HelBenledore was going to surround Coldor from the north while Dintash attacked from the south, but he was forced to withdraw as well. King Bornidin the Young had already lost his father in the war, so I guess he felt that Dintash had given enough.”“I see… War does tend to take from all sides,” Petsune says, “but I feel as though I gained something too.”Chapel looks up, surprised, and Petsune lays a hand on Chapel’s shoulder. He speaks comfortingly. “I never would’ve met all of you. And despite what you might think, you’re not your father, Chapel.” The Captain looks at Pet for a moment, then bows his head in recognition of Pet’s sagacious insight.While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, forrrrreeeever) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Twenty-Nine) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Thirty-One)24th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned YearTradition is a love and respect of the past,and defiant ignorance can be much the same.Contentedness is a gratitude for what is in the present,and complacent slothfulness can be much the same.Hope is a desire and yearning for the future,and ungrateful greed can be much the same.From ‘Sayings of Saint Wōde’, Order of Loss, Written by Saint Wōde in the Unreckoned YearsMavis steers The Painful Lady frightfully close to the edge of that ancient wonder, the Flower. None of the crew balks at the daring maneuver or the imminent danger, they all have loss weighing too heavily on their minds. No one could have survived long in the churning waters below, even Harlan. The entire crew has thrown themselves into the task of manning the ship, following and preempting Mavis’s orders. The Big Man has returned to the crow’s nest, and the rest of the crew remains on the main deck. The Lady begins to lean heavily to the port side as they sail a precarious line across the inner swirls of the Flower. Benafield is forced to place his feet on the sidewall of the nest to keep from falling out. The rushing noise of falling water has made it difficult to hear Mavis’s calls, but the singular mindset of the crew affords them an intense focus. Back in the crow's nest of the King’s Haul, Petsune can hear Officer Wittkinson call out to the helmsman. “Take the ship as far to starboard as our leash allows.”Soon, Pet begins to faintly hear what the crew of the Lady hears; a rushing noise, like a strong wind blowing across his ears, but distant. When he looks out from the crow’s nest, off the portside prow of the ship, he can see it in full: the Flower. It is an immense and awe-inspiring sight, terrifying in its scale. A huge swirling pool of ocean that dips lower, as though there were a valley in the sea, until it falls away into blackness at the unfathomable center. It is probably hundreds of towers wide, making the Painful Lady look like a twig about to be sucked down into a washtub drain. Clouds of mist rise out from the center, hardly visible in the darkening dusk. Petsune shudders as he takes it all in. It does resemble a flower — an enormous and living flower that hungers to consume the entire ocean, churning and devouring anything unfortunate enough to be caught in the currents.Ahead, Mavis holds the Lady’s ship wheel tightly and can feel the surge of speed as they ride the currents northward alongside the dark pit that is the center of the whirlpool. Petsune watches The Painful Lady from his vantage point. It is so horrifyingly close to the center, being pulled toward that bottomless pit — toward the ravenous mouth of the Flower. The sails and mast of the Lady have begun tilting further toward the swirling whirlpool as it speeds across the inner layers. The Lady rides the current across, picking up momentum and drawing the rope tighter between the ships: the King’s Haul behind and to the east of the Painful Lady. Petsune cannot see his face, but Mavis stares ahead, undaunted, holding the Lady in an unyielding northward line. Mavis thinks he sees white flashes in his peripheral vision, but he doesn’t spare them a glance or a thought, instead fixating completely on the task of saving the rest of the crew. Aboard the Haul, Chapel and Wittkinson both feel the shifting in momentum: from drifting to the west and into the Flower, to being discernibly pulled ahead to the north. The entire crew of the Haul feels the sudden tug and Wittkinson shouts orders to the crew. The momentum won’t last long, and they need to utilize it.Mavis continues to pilot the Lady in a straight northward line, passing the zenith of possible momentum and beginning to fight the Flower’s raw strength. Now the current works against Mavis, dragging at the side of the Lady’s hull and pulling them to the southwest. The rope that binds the two ships has become the slightest bit slack as the Haul continues to ride the momentum of the current and the Lady’s pull. Wittkinson calls to the helmsman. “Hard to port!”Suddenly, the King’s Haul veers violently off to the west, becoming in effect, a swinging pendulum. They follow the currents west across the top of the Flower, using the Painful Lady as the rigid point that they attempt to swing around. Mavis can feel the sudden drag on the Lady’s momentum and Bor shouts out from on the main deck. “We’re losing speed.”Chapel, Petsune, and Wittkinson find themselves sailing almost directly at the center of the Flower. They sail closer and closer, even nearer than Mavis had. Petsune is laying down on the wall of the crow’s nest to keep from falling out. He stares down into that gluttonous swirl in the ocean, watching untold amounts of water pour down into whatever unknown place lies below. The King’s Haul drifts closer to the center while The Painful Lady struggles to remain the rigid point that they swing around. The Big Man calls down from the crow’s nest in a loud voice. “Aye, Mavis! We’re being pulled back!”Mavis begins to lose hope, seeking to drive the Lady on by sheer force of will. The King’s Haul sails right next to the Flower's all-consuming center, and Petsune cannot look away from the gaping mouth of it. He is nearly lying down, forced to stare into the impermeable depths of the roiling sea below. He completely forgets himself and the Lady, frozen in terror at the sight below. Deep in the black water, eerie white flashes from storm squid can be seen as they swim and hunt. The depths light up for incredible singular moments and Petsune holds his breath as those moments pass. Water crashes against the Haul and surges up the side of the starboard hull. Petsune stares on, silently petitioning the Saints for safety in the face of such beautiful danger. He watches, awe-struck, as the storm squid flash and swim inside the yawning maw. He can see the looming shadows through the wall of water on the distant side, the bright white flashes silhouetting the squid and their prey.The Painful Lady has ceased struggling and begun to be pulled backward by the weight of the Haul. Mavis silently bows his head, accepting that he tried his best, but that it wasn’t enough. Just then, he feels a cool breeze on his neck, causing him to look up at the sails. They billow out and fill with wind, causing the ship to stop being pulled. Suddenly able to fight the current, Mavis yells out at the wind and the Saints. “Delód’s breath, blow! Come on!”The Lady begins to gain ground and sail away from the Flower. In the dark, they push ahead with only gritted teeth and determination as their companions. At the same time, The Kings Haul makes a slow curving turn, keeping the tether taut and riding the swirling current as long as possible. Petsune feels the Haul turn and he watches the whirlpool grow further away as the mast begins to tip back into an upright position. Pet watches the Flower as it is left slowly behind them, unable to take his eyes off its majesty. A cold breeze fills their sails, and they sail northward. Petsune can see The Painful Lady off the starboard side, a darker shadow on the sea amid lesser dark shades. The cold wind gives both ships just enough of a boost to fight the clawing currents.Without ceremony or pomp, both ships pull far enough away from the Flower that they exit the noticeable swirling currents. Wittkinson’s crew begins whooping and shouting as the discernible ripples of the sea recede behind them. The crew of the Lady sail into the calmer waters without celebration. Instead, they loosen their clenched jaws and find themselves feeling defeated, despite their incredible feat. It is rare that a ship strays close to the Flower, let alone the stunt they just pulled. The Haul begins to move at a normal pace, no longer facing the drag of grasping water. Wittkinson looks to Chapel and claps him on the shoulder. “It worked… I can’t believe it really worked. My crew and I owe you our lives.”Chapel doesn’t look at Wittkinson or smile, responding in empty emotionless tones. “That’s Mavis for you, he could sail a stick through a storm.”Wittkinson looks at Chapel more critically. “Don’t worry about the desertion charges just yet, we still have a long way to go.”Still Chapel doesn’t look at him and responds with only a small amount of effort and attention. “No, no I’m not too worried.”Wittkinson continues to stare at the side of Chapel’s face. “Something wrong, Captain?”“I don’t know yet,” Chapel responds forlornly, “but I aim to find out.”Wittkinson follows Chapel’s distant eastern gaze and finds the Lady at the other end. He speaks more softly this time. “I understand, Captain. And I believe you have earned the right to stay aboard your own vessel.”Finally, Chapel breaks from his morose stare and looks to Wittkinson. Chapel smiles and lightly pats Wittkinson’s shoulder. “I would greatly appreciate a return to my ship, Witty. Thank you.”Wittkinson nods in return and says, “I think I should be thanking you, but if you ever call me ‘Witty’ again, I will have you thrown off my ship.” Chapel gives the slightest of winks and walks away from Witty, speaking over his shoulder. “It’s not as bad you’d think — keelhauling.”Petsune is still in the crow’s nest, facing the ship's stern and watching the receding swirls of water. He breathes a sigh of relief as the Flower shrinks steadily into the wake of the ship. He prays audibly to all the Saints and vows to give alms at whatever Mass they end up at next. Pet begins cautiously climbing down the ratlines and finds Chapel below him, leaning against the mast. When he jumps down and approaches, he knows immediately something is wrong. There is some kind of air, or attitude, that Chapel usually has that’s faded or been lost. Chapel walks over to the railing, and they both breathe deep sighs but neither of them speak. The entire ordeal with the Flower feels like it was both an eternity and a heartbeat. Chapel speaks after some time. “Wittkinson is letting us go back to our ship.”Petsune replies hesitantly, sensing there is something else going on. “That’s good… I’ve missed everyone.”“Yeah, me too,” then Chapel says, almost despondently, “but I think something has happened. I have a bad feeling…”Petsune has never seen this side of Chapel, and he wishes nothing more than to be able to banish it — to cheer him up. Instead, he simply stands at the railing with Chapel, the two of them watching the endless horizon that now lies ahead off the bow. Their course has been changed by the Flower, and now the ship points northwest. They must be in the Slick Sea, named for all of the red whale oil trails that make the water slick and shimmery. If the Flower turned them around as far as Petsune thinks, it means they are facing Broadfell Keep to the North, and it means that he is the closest he can ever remember being to the Coldor Cleave. Pet stares out to the northwest, absentmindedly fiddling with his Deepblood talisman which he wears around his neck in a pouch. He expects to feel some type of longing for the Cleave, but his gaze is drawn over to The Painful Lady northeast of them, and he finds himself longing for that ship and that family instead.While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever) Or there’s this little clicky bit here, where you can support in various ways. Also, a comment or restack is hugely supportive too. Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Twenty-Eight) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Thirty)24th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year… because the essence of love is loss: to truly love our neighbor, we must give something up for their sake. What is love if it is easily given? It is cheap. And how much harder is it to love that which does not repay in kind? For what is love if readily received? It is commonplace. But love given out of pain and loss to ourselves, that is truly special. And what’s more, love given when only hate and indifference are offered in return: truly, that is the hardest of all.From ‘Commentary On the Third Book of Lost Things’ , Order of Loss, Written by Low Hand Domin Fettle in the 111th Reckoned YearThe cannon shot echoes across the water causing Petsune to yell out and duck down to the deck in fright. “Why are they shooting at us!”Chapel doesn’t duck however, instead leaning over the railing eagerly to see something. Suddenly a whizzing cannonball zips between the two masts and splashes into the sea on the other side. Chapel answers Pet’s question in an offhand way. “Because I told them to. And what a shot that Harlan is — did you see that Pet? Come on!”Petsune is wide eyed and confused as Chapel grabs his arm and races toward the railing where the cannonball splashed down. There is shouting and chaos as the soldiers try to ascertain how they can escape the Flower. Though everyone hears and realizes the ship they are supposed to be escorting has begun firing at them, hardly anyone notices the rope that has become draped across the main deck. Petsune watches as Chapel grabs it and begins rapidly pulling it in, trying to outpace the increasing drift of the ship. Once he has it pulled in, Pet sees a strange, hooked cannon shot. Chapel grabs it and runs to the main mast, looping the rope around as many times as he can. As Petsune watches, he becomes aware of the rope pulling tighter. He calls to Chapel, “Watch out, it’s getting tighter.” Chapel seems to have noticed and does a final flourish with some maritime knot before sitting back on his heels and raising his hands up and away from the rope. Chapel simply says. “You might wanna hold on to some—” and then the rope draws tight.The King’s Haul lurches to a stop as though it has run aground on something. Many soldiers fall to the decks and the entire ship groans objectingly, then begins to tilt. As the rope becomes increasingly taut, the railing splinters under the pressure. The hull of the ship begins to be pulled by the water, being sucked out from under the mast by the Flower. The main mast tips as the ship is pulled, so much so that it points more in the direction of the Painful Lady than it does the sky. Chapel and Petsune have both slid down the deck to the splintered railing. The increasingly uneven ship strains as it is stretched between the force of the rope and the pull of the Flower. Suddenly there is a brief release of the tension, causing the ship to be pulled a little further into the Flower. Chapel stares at the rope then looks to the distant Lady. “It isn’t going to hold.”And as he says this, all of the tension gives way, sending the ship rocking back on its keel. The mast rights itself upward again and the shift knocks over more than a few soldiers. Chapel and Petsune recover quickly, Pet helping a soldier find his feet after hitting the railing hard. Chapel climbs a few feet up into the ratlines and looks toward the Lady. The ship has broken free from the Floating Forest and is being dragged deeper into the Flower. The Haul is acting as a deadweight tied to the Lady. Chapel curses under his breath, “Well, depths…”As he watches, the Lady begins to spin and point toward them. Petsune is watching below and calls up to Chapel. “What’s Mavis doing?”Chapel contemplates the maneuver and realizes his First Mate’s intent. “He’s going to try and use the Flower to gain momentum. He’ll swing us like a pendulum.”Chapel climbs down as Petsune answers. “That might work…If they ride the current ahead of us, just around the outside of the Flower, they could get enough momentum to swing us out.”“It’s a better plan than mine was,” Chapel says, “now we just have to convince Wittkinson to go along with it.”Chapel jumps down from the ratlines and begins looking for Wittkinson at the helm, finding him assisting a soldier who is bleeding from a head wound. Petsune decides he would be more useful assisting the injured. His time with the Order of Loss had him dealing with a variety of injuries and ailments. Chapel walks up to the quarter deck where Wittkinson is, and Petsune wanders toward the soldier that hit the railing.Chapel approaches but before he says anything Wittkinson speaks without looking. “Not now. I have injuries and problems that are much bigger than you right now.”Chapel helps Wittkinson get the wounded soldier up and then they both support him down into the captain's quarters. Chapel speaks as they walk with the soldier between them. “I have a plan that might be our last chance at escaping the Flower.”They lay down the soldier who groans in pain, then Wittkinson looks at Chapel with a skeptical look. “Your ship fired on us.”“It was a hook shot, to try and tie our ships together and hold us from being pulled into the Flower.”Wittkinson scowls. “All your plan accomplished was getting some of my men injured. I’m supposed to trust your next option?”Chapel appears slightly saddened. “I’m sorry there were injuries, but if you don’t try something now we’ll all be dead.”Wittkinson looks down at the groaning soldier. Petsune comes into the cabin with another injured soldier supported on his shoulder. Pet helps the soldier sit down and then tends to the other soldier's head. Wittkinson watches Pet care for the soldiers, seeming to lose some of his edge. “What’s your plan?”“Well, the ships are still entwined, and my first mate is turning toward the Flower. If they can pick up enough speed by using the current around the Flower, they might be able to pull us out with the momentum.”Wittkinson looks at Chapel and seems to speak to himself. “I knew you weren’t just the first mate,” then he speaks louder, “so your Captain, are you?”Chapel appears sheepish. “Uh, yeah. It’s a long story.”“I doubt it.” Wittkinson cuts back, causing Chapel to blanch and look away. The two of them walk out of the cabin and onto the main deck.“Well, it’s at least an unflattering one,” Chapel says as they return to the helm, “Mavis was intended as a distraction while I, uh, incapacitated your ship.”Wittkinson simply stares at Chapel, not looking away or displaying any sign of emotion. When he finally responds, it’s with less bite than Chapel expected. “Why are you telling me this now.”“I want you to see I’m being honest,” then Chapel looks away at the encroaching Lady, “this plan, it’s probably the last chance we’ve got.” Wittkinson looks out at The Painful Lady, then to the west where the Flower greedily drinks the sea.He stares for a moment, then looks Chapel in the eyes. “What would you have me do, Captain?”Chapel doesn’t break eye contact with the Officer. “Sail wide of the Flower and do your best to keep the line between the ships taut. Mavis will take the Lady close to the center and use the currents to propel them out, hopefully we’ll be able to come along for the ride.”Officer Wittkinson nods in agreement, then gives orders to the helmsman. Chapel watches as the Haul veers off to a northward heading, and the Lady soon speeds past on their portside. Wittkinson calls for the ship to maintain their course, and soon the rope is loosely hanging between the two ships. Petsune approaches Chapel and Wittkinson at the helm. “Your soldiers will be fine, though the one with the head injury should lay down and rest for a few days. He was repeating things to me while I bandaged his head.”Wittkinson nods slightly and says he is grateful. Petsune surprises Chapel and Wittkinson by asking, “Officer, would you give me leave to man the crow’s nest? I would like to see the Flower.”Wittkinson raises an eyebrow but waves Pet off. “Fine, just don’t get in the way and don’t fall.”“Thank you.” Petsune says, heading for the rigging.Chapel has his Saintstone eyeglass out and is watching his crew. He notices they are uncharacteristically downtrodden and in his gut, he knows something is wrong. He feels helpless, stuck over here while his crew faces unknown hardships without him. He tries to account for everyone visually, but there is a lot of bustling about, and he soon finds the task fruitless. Wittkinson speaks in his typical way, staring out at something and not looking at Chapel. “I could have you quartered and hanged for desertion, after what you admitted, you know.”“I know,” Chapel says, “and if you do, so be it. So long as I get my crew out of this alive. I’ll say I forced them. I’ll do whatever you ask, just…”Wittkinson glances at Chapel then returns to his blank stare. “Why do you care so much?”“Because,” Chapel speaks quietly, “they're the only family I have, and this is my fault.”Wittkinson doesn’t reply, so Chapel continues speaking, more to himself than anyone. “I think… I think I brought each of them onto my crew to try to make something right… something my father made wrong in me, but I don’t think I did any good. Just harm.”Wittkinson sighs in understanding. “The wake of our parents can seem small when close to them, then we realize how much wider it gets as we become distant.”The two of them stand silently, then Wittkinson tenses and Chapel sees the Lady appear to tip and sink slightly to the port side. At nearly the same time, the Small sun sinks completely beyond the horizon.(Previous Chapter Twenty-Eight) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Thirty)While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Twenty-Seven) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-Nine)24th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year…dress like a beggar and ask for a scale, dress like a king and ask for a whale.From ‘Acceptance Speech’ of Fellpost HelBenorg, as recorded by Scrivener Fowdin-Mell in the Unreckoned YearsThe Saint’s sun has just set, leaving the sky a dusky golden haze as the Second sun races toward the horizon. The Big Man watches the brightening horizon, singing confidently from the crow’s nest. His voice rebounds off the surrounding forest and the song is given an ethereal quality. The raw beauty of the strange green forest coupled with the liquid golden sunsets scintillating through the branches and rigging, all lend credence to the rumors that the Floating Forests are special places. Benafield sings on from the height of the crow’s nest, becoming engrossed in the passing beauty of the forest on the portside. He sings out a common song heard in the Broadfell navy, or taverns in the Keep:Never to see land nor love nor port,That’s the way of the Drowned Fisher FourConspiring an confiding with the vilest of sortThat’s the way of the Drowned Fisher FourDeal me the cards and drowned be the oddsThat’s the way of the Drowned Fisher FourSpoil me my darling but don’t spare me the rodThat’s the way of the Drowned Fisher FourYes, That’s the way of the Drowned Fisher FourThrow them a volley, Show them we’re jollyYes, that’s the way of the Drowned Fisher FourBelow, Harlan calls out in a clear, calm voice, “Mavis.” and he stomps twice on the deck. The Big Man stops singing, having heard Harlan. Under the helm, in the Captain’s quarters, Mavis has just fallen asleep after fitfully tossing and turning. Harlan’s voice rings out as though he were standing right over Mavis in the Captain’s bed. Mavis yelps out in undignified shock, “Delód’s breath! What?”Harlan speaks loudly, though still in a calm and steady voice, so that Mavis can hear him below. “We may have a problem.”Harlan’s voice rings out loudly from a bucket hung upside down on the ceiling. Mavis sticks a thumb in his ear and calls back unenthusiastically. “Alright, alright… Depths, lad, I’m coming.” As Mavis begrudgingly rises and rubs his stiff neck, he mutters under his breath. “… drownin’ Captain and his drowned gadgets…”Mavis groggily approaches the ship wheel where Harlan stands. “What. What the depths is it. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have come up.”Harlan gestures off to the starboard side where the trees are passing the side of the ship. Out past the final row of passing trees is the King’s Haul. Mavis immediately sees what Harlan means. “What’s she doing? Why’re they aiming right for the Flower?”“I don’t know,” Harlan answers, “they made a hard turn to avoid something and now they appear to be drifting.”“The Flower’s got them now…” Mavis says.Harlan nods slowly and speaks with the same pace. “Should we try the Captain's plan?”“Wait for the signal. He’ll send it up if they need us.” Mavis speaks as though he is trying to convince himself.Moments pass that feel infinitely long, and still no signal. The King’s Haul has visibly drifted now, and the correction to the portside has not brought the ship out of it’s drift. Mavis looks at Harlan and nods, and he moves quickly as Mavis has rarely had the privilege of seeing. Harlan vaults the railing behind the ship wheel and lands lightly on his feet. Cheese, Shushilah, and the General are all playing Runny when Harlan lands on the board, scattering dice. Cheese exclaims, “Saints! What’s gotten into him?”The General leaps into action, understanding what’s needed. “Quickly now, we must raise all the sails and drop the anchor!”Shushilah runs over to the sail ties and begins raising canvas. Cheese runs off and shouts over her shoulder. “We ain’t got an anchor!”The General’s face takes on a worried expression. They continue hoisting sails, while Harlan slides into the open cargo hatch that drops into the hold. When he finally reaches the cannons in the orlop, he rushes over to the one he was adjusting earlier. Above deck, nearly all of the sails are fully furled. Down in the orlop, Harlan works speedily at the cannon. Beside the gun port is the large spool of rope Shush and Tar wound up. The end of the rope is attached to a strange-shaped object: the back is a round cannonball, but the front is an anchor-like assembly of hooks. Harlan shoves the object into the barrel of the cannon and readjusts the angle slightly, aiming between the ship-sized gap in the trees. He lights the ready fuse and leans away, covering his ears. The cannon blast roars through the empty cargo hold of the ship, alerting every crew member to the situation. Beside the cannon, the spool of rope is rapidly spinning as the hook shot trails away with the lead. It soars through the air too fast for Harlan to track, but the angle of the rope tells him it’s a good shot. He had to aim much higher due to the drag of the rope.At the helm, Mavis watches the shot while minding the ship, and he knows Harlan’s aim was true. The two soldiers, Venlott and Tonkish, come running from below deck. Pickett, Sprig, and Bor all rush up to the quarter deck. Cheese, Shush, and the General are already there, having raised all the sails. The Big Man remains in the nest, and Harlan is returning now. The only people unaware of what is happening are Venlott and Tonkish, who were left deliberately in the dark to the Captain’s plans. Mavis wisely assumed they wouldn’t take kindly to firing a cannon at the King’s Haul. “Listen up, crew,” Mavis projects his voice for everyone to hear, “the King’s Haul is caught in the Flower. Harlan just fired a hook shot at her to tie us together.”The two soldiers gape wide-eyed at Mavis when he says this, and they are about to object but Mavis talks loudly over them. “We didn’t have much time before they got pulled too far away. It’s done now. When the line reaches its length, our hope is that we can pull them along, using the trees to hold the Lady back if she hooked more than we bargained for. I need all hands on deck and at the ready for anything. If the pull is too strong, we may get pulled in as well.”Now Venlott yells out, interrupting Mavis. “Now wait a minute, we can’t get pulled in. We’ll die too!”Tonkish adds intellectual weight to the argument by saying, “Yeah!”Mavis raises a hand and amazingly, they fall silent. He stares the two soldiers down, but it’s Harlan that speaks up. “Maybe you feel you do not, but I have family on that ship.” All is quiet as the entire crew looks at Venlott and Tonkish. They don’t respond, seeming cowed by Harlan’s words and demeanor.The Big Man yells out from above, “Brace! The lines coming taut!” Everyone below adopts a wider stance, grabbing hold of anything nearby. Benafield grabs tightly to the mast. Suddenly a wet rope rises from the sea, flinging water up in a plume of white hazy mist as it does, and becomes an almost straight line connecting the two ships. The Painful Lady is jerked slightly to the starboard side. As they are steadily pulled into the Flower by the Haul, the stout trees are pushed away from the Lady. The rope trails off into the water between the two trees, off to the distant Haul. The Lady is pulled up against their trunks. With one tree pressing against the bow and one against the stern, they are stuck like a wagon in a doorway. Mavis waits with bated breath for something to snap. There is the deep and concerning groan of lumber under strain emanating from the decking and rails. An ear-splitting crack rings out across the water, almost louder than the cannon. The crew is all tossed to the deck as the tree holding the stern snaps. Previously hidden birds of bright colors take flight out of the trees, fleeing from the sound. The Big Man is thrown from the crow’s nest but manages to catch himself in the rigging. One of the decorative roots that reach from the Lady’s railings down to the water gets caught on the remaining floating tree at the bow. The tree bends over, its boughs dipping into the sea.Mavis, Harlan and Sprig stand while the rest of the crew finds themselves. Mavis calls out, “is anyone hurt?” There are grumbles and complaints, but no injuries. The Big Man climbs down from the rigging and catches his breath on the deck. Sprig sees Bungle, who has been thrown against the railing and entangled in ropes. He rushes over to the bow of the ship to help the poor billypug, not noticing the increasing tension on the railing. Mavis yells out at him, “Sprig, get back!” Sprig looks back at Mavis for a split second, and then the decorative root cracks and splits off from the railing with a tremendous rending sound. The Painful Lady lurches as it gives way, being rapidly pulled out into open water, and Sprig is thrown over the railing and into the sea. Mavis, Harlan, and Benafield all see and cry out as Sprig disappears over the side. The Big Man is winded from his fall and is too far to do anything. Harlan is immediately running toward the railing as the ship is rapidly carried toward the Flower. He rushes to the bow of the ship, leaping up onto the railing, removing a small blade from his sleeve, and cutting free a rope from the rigging. Harlan runs down the railing with the rope in hand and dives off the edge of the ship in a large arc, soundlessly splashing into the sea below. Mavis and others rush to the railing, all thought of the Flower gone for the moment. Neither Sprig nor Harlan can be seen, and the Lady is being rapidly pulled westward. The Flower is hundreds of towers away, and yet they are firmly within the grips of its powerful current.Mavis is screaming out Sprig’s name, but no one surfaces. The rest of the crew look on in horror, distraught over the loss of Sprig and Harlan. Even Tonkish and Venlott watch on in dismay, saddened by the distressed faces of the crew. Suddenly, Sprig bursts from the surface coughing and spluttering. Shushilah cries out, and Cheese exclaims, “He’s there! Sprig’s there! Pull ‘em in!”Bor, Shushilah and The General attempt to pull in the length of rope but are unable to with the strange currents of the Flower. The Big Man appears and grabs the rope, heaving with all of his strength and pulling it in hand over hand. Bor calls out as they draw in the rope. “I don’t see Harlan, where is he?” When The Big Man finally pulls Sprig up over the railing, he is alone and in shock. The rope has been tied securely around Sprig’s chest and under his arms, no doubt the work of Harlan — a final sacrifice. Sprig’s face is fixed with a look of stark terror and bewilderment. Mavis kneels beside him, wrapping him in an embrace. Bor continues scanning for any sign of Harlan, but it is getting darker with the Small sun setting quickly. He searches the open water diligently, desperately even, but there is nothing save for the rapidly shrinking tree line of the Floating Forest. Bor looks to Mavis and says, “What do we do?” Mavis appears either scared or pained for the briefest moment, doing his best not to confront what he knows: they will not find Harlan. Mavis stands and walks briskly away from the bow of the ship and his welling grief, off toward the helm.Shushilah comforts Sprig and checks him over. “Is okay, Sprig. Is alright, you are safe now.”Sprig looks into Shushilah’s deep blue eyes, seeing no sign of his own wide-eyed terror. “But… Harlan… is he…”But Shushilah simply hugs him and makes soft soothing noises as Sprig begins to cry. Bor doesn’t leave off scanning the water from the bow, he strains his eyes in the dusky lighting but inwardly he knows the harsh truth: Harlan is gone. After a few moments staring out at nothing, Bor gives up the pretense. The rest of the crew hurry to follow Mavis back to the quarterdeck. The Big Man quietly asks, “What will we be doing now?” while Mavis steps behind the ship wheel. Mavis looks like stone as he grabs the ship wheel, yanking out a peg from the wheel and placing it into the smaller center wheel, freeing it to move independently. Now Mavis spins the smaller wheel one direction while turning the larger wheel in the opposite direction. Despite having no sails down, the Lady begins to spin, as though on a wheel of its own. Mavis turns the ship and his mind from Harlan, committing to saving those he can and making Harlan’s sacrifice worthwhile. Soon, the ship’s bow is pointed toward the King’s Haul and consequently, the Flower.(Previous Chapter Twenty-Seven) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-Nine)While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Twenty-Six) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-Eight)24th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year…Into the water,below the waves,secret passes,hidden caves…From ‘Rite of Entry’, Fāy-Núl Tör, Author Unknown in the Unreckoned YearsChapel lounges against the bowsprit and stares at the passing clouds. Overhead, windgulls soar, hanging on the air with their large open wings. Petsune watches the Painful Lady sail behind the outermost trees of the Floating Forest, fascinated by the blurs of green against the blue sails. Pet allows Chapel time to think of a story, simply waiting for the beginning. He waits several moments then glances to Chapel’s place on the bowsprit, only to find it empty. Petsune sighs dramatically and looks around but does not see his Captain, until he looks up in the rigging along the foresail. Chapel is there, crouched precariously on a rope, speaking quietly to Sprig’s bird. The setting Saints sun cast him in a burning orange hue with a disconcerting shadow looming on the sail. The bird conjures up Sprig’s youthful voice and relays his words. “Tell the Cap’n we’re ‘bout done with his list, and we’ll be lookin’ for the signal. Okay? Got all that, bird?” Chapel nods to no one then pats the bird's head, but it doesn’t fly off. Instead, it begins pecking at his pocket. Petsune watches as Chapel proceeds to feed the prattlebeak and is startled when a voice behind him speaks. “What’s he doin’ with that prattlebeak?”Petsune turns to find a soldier standing on the deck, gazing up at Chapel and the bird. Petsune looks at Chapel and simply says, “He’s feeding it.”“Why?” The soldier asks.Petsune looks down at the soldier, feigning a look of ignorance. “I guess it was hungry.”The soldier scoffs and walks off, and Petsune breathes a sigh of relief. Chapel removes the last of the food from his pocket and hands it over to the large, round bird. He climbs easily back down to the bowsprit.Petsune watches him the whole way, until he is once again comfortably lounging against the bowsprit they recently polished. Petsune raises an eyebrow as he looks back to the soldier, now on the other side of the ship. “You were nearly caught just now. That soldier was asking questions.”“Nah. If you’re strange, people will write off strange behavior. It’s when the priests start feeding birds that you should worry.”Petsune laughs, finally feeling some of the tension from the past few days leave him. “What were you feeding it anyway?”“Sweetbread.”“You still had some left?”“Oh no, I borrowed it from the kitchens.”This time Pet truly laughs, and it feels good. “Saints… Chapel you steal as much as Sprig.”Chapel interjects, “Borrow.” and Pet just shrugs saying, “What will you tell Wittkinson if he catches you? That you were bringing it for him?”Chapel laughs lightly. “No, no. I don’t think that line would work on him. I just won’t get caught.”Pet is smiling now, closing his eyes as he speaks. “Right, because that worked so well when we tried to sabotage the ship.”Chapel sits up onto one elbow and watches the water against the bow of the ship. “Could’ve been worse.”“It could always be worse, how is that a helpful mindset?”“Because it’s always right. And you know what I just realized: this is the second ship you were caught sneaking about on — you’re a terrible sneak thief.”Petsune’s eyelids flick open fast enough to raise his eyebrows as well. “I turned myself in on the Lady!”Chapel smirks but doesn’t open his self-satisfied eyes. “Only after I caught you in my cabin.”“Well you… you lured me there! And sneaking onto this ship was your drowning idea, not mine.”“Ah, Pet,” Chapel acquiesces, “it is too easy to get you riled up, it’s almost no fun.”Petsune doesn’t stoop this time, opting for a subject change instead. “I believe you are avoiding your story.”“I am not. You forget, I was brought up in the Tapestry: storytelling is in my blood. I bleed ink.”“Alright, well, the stage is set, the audience awaits.”Petsune leans back and closes his eyes. Chapel begins thinking aloud. “Well, let me think… you’ve likely heard all of the Hollow Tree stories, and I think I’d be hard-pressed to find a parable you haven’t read… maybe… but perhaps an old Broadfell myth?““I highly doubt I would know any of Broadfell’s folklore.”“Well, perfect,” Chapel says, switching to a theatrical voice, “You shall now hear the tale of how Broadfell was made.”Petsune’s eyes open and he looks over at Chapel, eyebrows raised in reaction to the voice.Chapel looks up at Pet and winks. “It’s my inner Tapestry coming out. Now, this story is told in the halting speech patterns of old Broadfell, which is the only way I know it.”Petsune leans back against the ratlines again. “I believe I’ve heard the speech of old Broadfell before, in the Book of Concerns.”“Well, you will be no stranger to it then.”“Though I might be a stranger to your theatrics.”“You wound me, Pet. I could have become a full Finger Weaver, you know?”Petsune chuckles mildly but finds his mind wandering to Sprig and the Painful Lady, and he becomes saddened. The Saints sun fully sets, and the Second sun is being tugged along behind it.He feels a very close tie to Sprig, being an orphan and all. “How hard is it to become a Weaver?”“It’s not too difficult, but it does take a lot of time and the mastering of certain skills,” Chapel, sensing Pet’s shift in mood, skillfully moves the conversation, “anyway, hush up now, schoolboy. I’m telling a story.”“Ah, right. I nearly forgot.” Petsune says, smiling, grateful for the distraction.“Now, this comes from folklore, so it’s never really been set into words — it’s up to the teller to convey the right story.” Chapel clears his voice dramatically, “Hear now, the tale of Boldifar Strong Oar,” then he adds in a quieter, less sure voice, “or maybe Boldifar Strong Arm, I don’t remember.”“Hah get on with it, Captain.”Chapel clears his throat and pauses to allow the quiet to blossom into anticipation.Suddenly, a shout from above breaks through the silence and jarrs both Chapel and Petsune up out of their comfort. “Shallowback, dead ahead!” The helmsman calls out next. “Hard to starboard!”Petsune can hear the Captain and the helmsman arguing over the need to steer around the whale, and within seconds, the ship wheel is being turned vigorously toward the west where the Second sun is descending. The Haul leans to the portside as it makes a sharp turn to the starboard. When the ship turns, Chapel slides off the bowsprit like a wet fish. He is left clinging to it with both arms overtop as the ship wrenches itself off its southward path. Petsune scrambles along the railing to reach him. He calls out for Chapel when he sees one arm slip off the freshly waxed bowsprit. Petsune reaches the Captain and finds that he is hanging easily with one arm, while the other fiddles with the rope he tied earlier. The rope comes loose and a small barrel of something falls down into the sea. Petsune helps Chapel back over the railing. “What was that?” He asks in exasperated tones.Chapel watches the barrel bob away in the water like jetsam and he says dejectedly. “It was a millie in a barrel.”Petsune is thoroughly confused and finds himself unable to respond, so Chapel does instead. “It was the signal if we needed help, though with that stunt at the shipwheel, I doubt we’ll need the signal.”“Alright, but how is a millie in a barrel a signal? They would never see that?” Pet watches Chapel, who watches the water. Passing closely beside the boat is the immense sandbar of a shallowback whale. It is grazing on the abundant algae under the floating forest. Because of its size, it cannot swim below the forest, so its large body extends off from the edge of the forest, right across the course the King’s Haul was on. Petsune watches the algae and plant covered back of the grazing whale as they pass by it.Chapel walks away from the portside toward the starboard prow. He speaks to Petsune, who follows him to the railing. “A millie fish will rise out of the sea when the weather is warm enough. They float up to a tower high before flopping back down into the water. So, I had one in that bucket to warm it more and filled it with trail oil from a red whale, so it would shine red in the sun.”“Ah,” Petsune says contemplatively, “that’s actually quite clever.”Chapel looks down over the railing and Petsune follows suit. Chapel says, “Sprig isn’t the only one. Too bad it didn’t work.” Petsune is struck with a thought. “Where did you get all those things? The millie, oil, and barrel?”Chapel winks at Pet. “Borrowed them.”Petsune looks sardonically at Chapel. “Mhm. ‘Sprig isn’t the only one’.”Chapel just winks slightly, as amiable as ever.Looking down, they both see the vexing signs in the water below: a sucking gap of water against the ship, and the large, warped wake that extends from the hull and off in a curve toward the northwest. The shouting from the helm indicates that the helmsman feels it too. They are being pulled in by the Flower. Petsune looks at Chapel with worry written on his face, but Chapel looks past Petsune toward the Painful Lady and the forest. A distant explosion rings out loudly, along with a puff of smoke from the hull of the Lady, and then Chapel smiles.(Previous Chapter Twenty-Six) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-Eight)While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Twenty-Five) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-Seven)24th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned YearWhat is the most important part of a ship?Is it the sails, who catch the winds?Is it the masts, whose strength holds the sails?Is it the hull, whose thick boards keep the waters at bay?Is it the rudder, who steers the ship with a subtle hand?From ‘Wisdom of Saint Delód’, the Church of the Deep, Written by Saint Delód in the Unreckoned YearsSprig clings loosely to the ratlines as he stares out westward at the King’s Haul. “What d’ya think they’re doin’ over there anyway?”Cheese gnaws a piece of rope until it is severed, speaking around the rope in her teeth. “Don’t know. Maybe shcrubbin’ eh decks.” She spits out some thin fibers and continues, “But I know what you ain’t doin’ here: helpin’.”Sprig turns from gazing at the Haul and helps Cheese tie some extra rope into the rigging. Cheese looks at it and nods in approval. “There, that ought to hold. Maybe we won’t need it, if we’re lucky. That stiff — what’s his name, Wiltcher-whatever — this were his stupid idea. I’ll bet my favorite boots the Flower pulls in that sorry scrap of wood. Look at her: she ain’t even been cleaned in Saints only know how long. If I had to die on that ship, I’d be right fuming.”“I feel bad for the Cap’n. And Pet, I guess. I kinda like him now. He’s got a funny name an’ he knows a lotta big words.” Sprig begins to climb down but just then, a prattlebeak, wearing something like a scarf, lands in the rigging next to him.Sprig pats the top of his head and then the prattlebeak starts to speak. “Tell him we’re okay for now, but we’re drifting.” The bird finishes the message and then hops closer. Sprig pulls some food from a pocket and feeds the bird, receiving a satisfied squawk in reply. Sprig pats his head again and the bird tilts its own wide head just slightly. Sprig speaks slowly to the bird, as though it were old and feeble. “Tell the Cap’n we’re ‘bout done with his list, and we’ll be lookin’ for the signal. Okay? Got all that, bird?” Sprig feeds it another tasty morsel, then pats the round squat head. The bird flies off without delay. Cheese remarks at the sight, “Saints, Spriggy. That’s quite the ‘lil messenger ya got there. Ya oughta charge for usin’ it.” Cheese climbs down the ratlines and Sprig watches the bird fly off toward the Kings Haul.While Sprig makes his way down, Harlan lays his face against one of the cannons below decks. The Big Man looks at Harlan, confused. “Why are you doing this? We do not need to be hugging it. Harlan remains there, face pressed against the cannon and arms wrapped wide around it in an embrace. The Big Man stares at Harlan quizzically until he eventually unsticks himself from the cast iron form. Harlan looks into Benafield’s eyes without blinking or flinching, as though he is looking through them. He speaks in his characteristically quiet and monotone voice. “I was aiming it.”Harlan walks away and the Big Man watches him ascend the stairs up to the main deck. He looks down at the cannon and lowers his face against it. He squints one eye to judge Harlan’s aim, and finds the cannon pointed just above the King’s Haul.Harlan walks across the deck to the foredeck at the bow. Below the foredeck, Bor and Pickett are cooking together. They appear to be entertaining a small, furry audience of two: Bungle wags his stubby tail as he eagerly watches Bor’s dexterous knife hand. A small rock-like shape sits next to Bungle, and a furry head slowly pokes out of its front. Tussle’s typically placid face has been supplanted by a voracious look. The smells wafting from under the foredeck are as magnificent as always. Pickett silently prods and stirs a spicy pot of large meaty hunks basting in various juices and spices. Occasionally, Bor will add something into the pot, but neither of them says a word. Sprig suddenly comes running up and tells Pickett, “It worked, the bird worked!” Then he runs off again. Pickett still doesn’t speak.Sprig runs across the deck, jumping over a length of rope that is trailing across the center of the deck, snaking between the masts. General Tar and Shushilah are working together to wrap the long rope around a thick spool. Shushilah holds the spool and turns it backward to wrap the rope around it. The General is carefully laying out the rope so that it doesn’t tangle. Shushilah says, “In the North War, I am thinking: how long it was until the fighting?”“Hmm… The Shot happened,” the General responds, “and then there was all that chaos and madness: fighting in the streets and all that. I remember the Flooded Markets were a veritable battle ground. The Coldor gave us a good bloody nose there.”“The Shot — this is when the Coldor were trying to kill the Fellpost, yes?” Shushilah asks.“Yes, there was a great deal of tension boiling, then the Cleave publically tried to assassinate the Fellpost of Broadfell — the current one, HelBenledore. He failed, obviously, and was killed in the process,” Tarlatan becomes thoughtful, “I believe his name was… Höalám. The Coldor people all went mad then, and they were able to beat us on land, since they live primarily on solid land. There was plenty of fighting there, but the first navy battle of the North War — or at least when we sailed against the Cleave — well, that wasn’t for a fortnight or two after the Shot. But that’s when the tides turned. Dintish prowess in the water outmatched them ten-fold.”“Why is this?”“Dintash has an unparalleled navy because we are the only nation with no solid land in our Borders. Both Broadfell and Coldor are primarily solid land.”Shushilah smiles. “And Filkash does not like to fight, I’m thinking.”“Mmm, very true. But the Oullman stretches beyond the maps and there is land they use for timber, down to the southwest somewhere.”“I was not knowing this.”Shushilah continues to roll the rope around the spool. “Who was leading the Coldor, when their Cleave was now dead?”“Hmm, well the position of Cleave is held in equal parts by a married couple— hence the title — to cleave to each other and such. So, once Höalám was dead, the title fell entirely onto the wife’s shoulders. Strange really… doesn’t seem like a woman’s work. ” The General appears to become introspective, forgetting to lay out rope. Shushilah decides not to comment on the General’s poorly aging views on women.“I was not knowing this, about the Cleave. Is an interesting thing.” Shushilah says.The General snaps out of his thoughts. “Hmm? Oh, yes, interesting. Once she was killed, there was no Cleave at all and the North War ended, and that was that. Coldor retreated into the Northwest Waters and the Island of Three Nations was established to keep a watchful eye on the bloodthirsty beasts.”“Who is leading them now, I’m thinking? Someone must be starting the fighting again.”“Hmm, very true. I only wish I knew, Shush… ”The two of them finish wrapping the large length of rope around the spool.Two soldiers exit the Captain’s quarters and cross to the foredeck. The soldier, called Tonkish, asks, “Mealtime soon?” as he passes the kitchen. Bor simply nods, and Pickett doesn’t look up. The soldiers have enjoyed Bor’s cooking in the way a drowning man enjoys air. Tonkish nods back and walks away toward the helm where Mavis pilots the ship. The second soldier walks up onto the foredeck and finds Harlan at the starboard prow, gazing off toward the King’s Haul. The soldier, called Venlott, attempts to engage Harlan in conversation, but receives no response. Venlott speaks again, hoping to coax a response from Harlan. “So, you been crew’d up with this lot long?”Harlan doesn’t move to look at Venlott but he does speak. “That is too easy a target.”“What?” Venlott asks, baffled.Sprig sighs loudly from behind Venlott and speaks with an annoyed tone. “Ahh, c’mon, Harlan. Why’d ya give me away? I coulda stole the shirt right off his drownin’ back.”Harlan turns his head to look at Sprig over his shoulder. “If it is practice you seek, this man is too easy a target. Mavis would be more difficult.”Venlott looks from Sprig to Harlan and then back to Sprig. Lazily, Sprig offers up a small coin purse to Venlott who grasps at the empty place on his belt. Anger brews in his features as he moves to snatch the purse. Sprig drops the purse just before he grabs it, and Venlott hastily grabs at thin air where the falling purse ought to be. Instead, Sprig laughs lightly as the purse dangles by its drawstring from the back of his upturned hand. Venlott scowls and Sprig tosses him the coin purse. As soon as he has it, Sprig scampers off. Venlott shouts half-heartedly after him. “Be gone, you weevil!”Harlan speaks quietly as Sprig climbs up into the branches and sails. “I would count that if I were you.”Venlott’s eyes widen as he opens the coin purse and counts out each scale. His face is relieved when he realizes all of his money is there.Harlan walks away from the soldier as he finishes counting. He heads to the quarter deck where Mavis stands, unwavering, behind the ship wheel. Harlan stands next to the First Mate, both staring ahead with unreadable expressions.“Did you get the cannon positioned?” Mavis asks.Harlan responds, “I did. Though I do not think it will work.”“You doubt the Captain?” Mavis asks firmly.“I do not doubt him, I doubt his cannons.”“Aye… hopefully we won’t be needing it.”Harlan continues to stare off toward the Haul, an inscrutable depth behind his eyes. Mavis navigates the floating trees, watching as they rapidly approach the bow and then glide past the side of the ship. Down on the main deck, Harlan sees Shushilah carry a large spool of rope down into the hold. The General sits down at the Runny board where Benafield and Cheese are already seated. A thin line of something sways across Harlan’s vision, though he ignores it as it moves toward Mavis. A small glob of snagweed floats behind the First Mate, suspended on a near imperceptible string of pebbleclaw silk. Harlan continues ignoring the glob of snagweed as it slowly and delicately sticks to Mavis’s compass clipped to the side of his scabbard belt.Mavis draws his sword, cuts the silk thread, and resheaths the blade, all in a single smooth motion. Sprig complains loudly from somewhere above. “Awww. I nearly had it.”Mavis smirks just slightly and calls out without gazing up. “You’ll need to do better than that, Sprig. I expect more from you, master Finger Weaver.”Mavis turns to Harlan and nods for him to take the wheel. Harlan obliges without saying a word and Mavis heads below into the Captain’s cabin to get some much needed rest. As reluctant as he is to pretend to be captain, he does enjoy the bed the job comes with.(Previous Chapter Twenty-Five) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-Seven)While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever and evverrr) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Twenty-Four) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-Six)24th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned YearDeath lives a long life.She watches with unblinking eye,the slow passing of all time.Yet, it passes not for Her.She is what was here before.Darkness. Eternity.She is what gives Life worth.A long life, Death lives.Life dies a long death.He claws at the edges of existence,seeking to scrape back the seconds.Yet, He is dragged down all the same.He is that which begins and ends.Loss. Suffering.He is every prolonged moment of pain.A long death, dies Life.From ‘Musings of the Hollow Trees’, Composed by Oyo-Po-No-Poyo, Hollow Tree, in the 90th Reckoned YearFor the first day since being brought aboard the King’s Haul, Chapel and Petsune are allotted some leisure time. They are both leaning over the bow, looking out southwest toward the stern of the Lady. The horizon is jagged and bumpy with the shadows of the approaching Floating Forest. From this distance, it resembles an encroaching Mass. Chapel hops up onto the railing and turns around to lay back on the bowsprit. Petsune chuckles. “Why are you always falling asleep? It seems like every time I talk to you, you're lying down or nodding off.”Chapel makes an obnoxious snoring noise and Petsune rolls his eyes. “Well, most nights on the Lady, I’m piloting the ship through the night.”“Oh, really? Why do you do that?”“Partly for security, partly so we can get around faster, but mostly because I like it at night. It’s quiet. Like a whole different world.”“I see.” Petsune says, though really, he doesn’t.As they approach the Floating Forest, Petsune can begin to see that they will not be passing through it, but rather beside it. Now that they are close enough to make out the details, Pet can see why they aren’t sailing through. The floating Forest is thick and dense, with no clear pathway through in something so large as a ship. Ahead of them, the Lady veers slightly to the portside, toward the Forest. It appears that Mavis will be taking the Lady just inside the Forest, where the trees aren’t so densely clumped together. The King’s Haul is larger than the Lady, so the helmsman doesn’t follow. The Haul continues to follow its trajectory of passing just outside the Floating Forest, meaning the trees will pass by on the portside. Petsune has been watching the Lady and failed to notice Chapel shuffle around and begin messing with something. When he looks back he sees Chapel tying something. “What are you doing, Chapel?”“Hmm? Oh nothing. We probably won’t even need this.”Petsune raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. If he asked about every cryptic thing the Captain said, he’d go mad.The first tree approaches and Petsune marvels at how similar it is to the Lady’s masts. The only difference is that there are thick green leaves and luscious fruits growing from every inch of the branches. The roots seem to spider out from the trunk in a beautiful sun-like pattern, stretching as wide as the branches before growing downward. There are thick salt deposits clustered around the ends of the roots, but to Pet it looks like they widen as they plunge deeper. He stares at the beautiful green tree as it passes by the ship, a mere tower or two away. Meanwhile the Lady is ahead of them, expertly navigating the outer confines of trees. Mavis appears to rely on the root appendages that sprout from the Lady’s deck to push away some of the trees that are closer. Pet watches as one tree is pushed aside, then as the Lady passes, the tree seems to slowly pull itself back to where it was.Chapel notices Petsune staring with a confused expression. “Think of each tree as a stem of seaweed. The trunk actually extends straight down to the bottom, the top blooms open to resemble a tree, but really this is just the tip of the plant. That’s why Floating Forests never move.”Petsune is amazed at this. “I had no idea… I assumed that they were floating, because of the name.”“Nope, just a very tall weed.”Petsune glances over at Chapel, but the Captain bears a worried expression. “What’s wrong?”“Well, Mavis was right to try to avoid this route. The Haul is too wide to go through the Forest. Those salt deposits on the roots will cut open a hull as easily as coral. But that means we’re unprotected from the pull of the Flower.”“I find it hard to believe the whirlpool can reach this far. We can’t even see it from here.”“There are strong and deceptive currents below the water here, even stronger because it is almost the rainy season. The Flower grows with the weather.”Petsune looks back to the Painful Lady as it navigates the trees. “That’s why Mavis chose to steer into the Forest, isn’t it? He’s using the trees to keep the Lady on course.”Chapel nods and then looks off to the starboard side. “If you look close enough, you can see a slight dip in the horizon — just there.” Chapel points to an empty section of horizon.“I don’t… wait, yes. I think I see it.”“That’s the Flower.”Pet’s eyes widen, realizing just how close they are to the massive whirlpool. Suddenly it’s as though he can feel the ship being pulled in by the long-reaching arms of the Flower. Now he understands why Mavis was apparently so hesitant to travel this way. Petsune looks straight ahead, south, down the length of endless trees. Mavis pilots the Painful Lady with expert precision. The salient blue color of the sails becomes partially obfuscated as they disappear and reappear from behind trees. Seeing the Lady tucked into the forest has made Pet realize that Chapel’s plan to hide here was well thought out. The only thing that is immediately noticeable about the ship is its bright blue sails, otherwise it blends in well.Petsune becomes transfixed by the sight of the Forest wall endlessly expanding southward. He speaks to the air as he watches the Forest. “It’s much bigger than I thought. And thicker. The maps simply don’t do it justice.”When he looks around for Chapel however, he is nowhere to be seen. Pet looks around himself, then leans over the railing to see if Chapel climbed down somewhere. When he looks downward, he notices something disconcerting: there is a thin wake stretching about 10 feet ahead of the ship and off to the portside. With a sickening feeling, Pet realizes they are being pulled ever so slightly toward the starboard side. It is only a slight amount, easily counteracted by steering slightly to port, yet it worries Petsune all the same. He has never seen the Flower before, few people do, and now he can’t help but picture it. An unfathomably large swirl of churning waters, all racing to pour down into an ancient chasm. He wonders if it would be loud.At almost the same time, Pet hears a familiar voice speak. “Tell ‘em Mavis is watchin’ but we’re stuck sailin’ in the trees now.”Petsune looks around for Sprig, half expecting him to have snuck over here somehow. Instead, Pet looks up to see a large round bird sitting in the rigging. Sprig’s prattlebeak is wearing a strange collar around its extremely short neck. The bird inexplicably looks as though it is sneering. Petsune is about to speak when he hears Chapel’s voice, spotting him up on the mizzenmast. “Tell him we’re okay for now, but we’re drifting.”The bird refuses to move or repeat anything, until Chapel pulls something from his pocket. The bird squawks and eats the proffered food, then repeats the message in Chapel’s voice. “Tell him we’re okay for now, but we’re drifting.”Chapel pats the bird's stout head and says, “Perfect.” then watches it fly off. Chapel climbs easily down to where Pet stands. Petsune inquires, “Where’d you run off to?”“Oh, just tying up some loose ends.”Petsune doesn’t bother fishing for more information, instead commenting on the bird. “I see Sprig’s bird is learning quick.”“Oh yeah, it’s actually coming in handy already.”“Was it wearing a scarf?”“Honestly, I’m not sure what it’s supposed to be. Something to set it apart somehow.”Chapel glances down at the bow of the ship, watching the thin wake that streaks away in the wrong direction. “Mavis was right, we shouldn’t have chanced this route. The Flower was bound to be stronger this close to the rainy season.”“What will we do? If it pulls us in, I mean.”Chapel looks up and over to the Painful Lady sailing through the outer edge of the Forest. “I hope it won’t come to that, but if it does, I have some ideas. In the meantime, we have a day free of scrubbing to enjoy.”Chapel finds his spot on the bowsprit and gets comfortable again. He closes his eyes and speaks to the open sky. “Tell me a story, Pet.”“What? Now? I’m as nervous as a lardfee in pin whale pod.”“Then telling me a story would be good for you. Tell ya what, you tell me a story and I’ll tell you a story.”Petsube considers for a moment. “Does it have to be true, or can it be anything?”“Hmm… anything. Doesn’t matter.”“Alright, let me think a moment.”Petsune stares out at the forest wall, but he is focused on thinking of a good story. The first thing that jumps into his mind is the history of the world, as told in the Church of the Deep. He guesses it isn’t what Chapel had in mind. Instead, Pet thinks back to his time copying out texts in the Sanctum of Saints. There were stories in the Musings of the Hollow Trees book, but Chapel’s own mother had written it, so he no doubt knew them.Petsune continues to think, and Chapel does not prod him. Finally, he settles on an old story that he heard long ago. He hasn’t forgotten it, despite its length and how long it’s been since he first heard it. “Alright, I think I’ve got one. But it’s a little lengthy, and I may accidentally change parts. It’s been a long time since I heard it.”Chapel responds without opening his eyes. “Well, the best stories are often the oldest, and a little variation doesn’t hurt if the story’s heart remains the same.”“I think it’s more of a parable, and when I first heard it there was a rhyme and measure to it. I can’t remember exactly how it went, but I remember some of the lines.”Petsune climbs up onto the railing to sit, leaning back against the ratlines. He closes his eyes briefly and begins, telling the story more to himself than to Chapel:“Once… there was a wise mountain.“It towered over a valley where simple farmers lived and worked. To those that could reach the wise mountain’s summit, it would grant an answer. A farmer who lived in the valley below toiled endlessly in his fields, year after year. Until one day, he wished to know why he must toil endlessly.“He left his farm to seek the mountain’s answer. Along the way he met a young man dressed in fine clothes. The farmer asked to where he was headed, and the young man replied in a rude voice, ‘The mountain.’“The farmer asked what answer he would seek, but the fine young man merely replied, ‘What is it to an old farmer such as yourself?’“The farmer became indignant, yet the two walked on together toward the mountain.“After some time, the finely dressed man spoke without looking at the farmer, ‘I must know when I will die.’ The old farmer did not wish to anger the young man, and so kept silent. The finely dressed man continued, ‘I have inherited my father’s fortune, and wish to know if I should invest it or spend it.’ The old farmer explained what answer he sought from the mountain, but the young man laughed in his face. ‘We toil to become rich, and we become rich so that we may live easy lives. This is why I must know when I will die.’ The farmer wished he had not spoken, and the two walked on in silence.“And so it happened that the old farmer and the finely dressed man passed a beggar bearing scars. The beggar pleaded to the old farmer, ‘Please sir, I have little and I am hungry.’ The old farmer gave the beggar some bread, for that was all he had. The scarred beggar then pleaded with the finely dressed man, ‘Please sir, I have no money and I see that you have much. Won’t you spare me a little?’“The finely dressed man grew disdainful and spoke with anger, ‘Do not beg to freely receive what others have worked hard to acquire. If I spend my wealth, it will be on myself.’“The finely dressed man walked ahead on his own, but the scarred beggar began walking with the old farmer. The farmer explained what answer he sought of the wise mountain. The beggar became thoughtful and said, ‘I would seek an answer. I wish to know how to change my lot in life.’ And so the two walked on to the base of the mountain.“The old farmer became tired and made camp at the base. But the scarred beggar walked on, anxious to change his lot, he hastened his pace. In the morning, the old farmer rose and began his walk up the steep mountain path. When he was halfway up, he passed the finely dressed man hurriedly descending from the peak. He called after, but the finely dressed man didn’t slow or speak.“The old farmer continued his walk up the steep mountain path. Just before the summit, he found the naked body of the finely dressed man. The farmer stared at the body and then he understood. The old farmer looked up at the peak so near, and he turned away from the summit, and he walked back down the mountain, shedding not a tear.”When Petsune finishes the story, Chapel remains quiet. He stares up at the gray clouds and Petsune stares at the line of trees as they pass. After some time, Chapel speaks. “That was a good story,” he pauses for a moment before adding, “I don’t get it.”Petsune chuckles. “No… I’m not sure I do either, though I have a few meanings I’ve landed on. I’ve tried locating the story before, looking for interpretations or explanations, but I never found it anywhere. I think… I think it is a Coldor story.”“Well, that would explain why you can’t find it.”“It would. I can’t recall where I heard it or who told it to me, but I like to believe it was something I overheard when I was very little. Like a small piece of the Cleave that I carry with me.”The conversation stills a moment before Chapel speaks again. “Thanks for sharing it with me, Pet.”Petsune pulls himself back from his memories of the past. “Right, well, I believe you owe me a story now, Captain.”“Well, alright. But you owe me those explanations you have landed on, priest Petsune.”Petsune makes a common Empty Hand gesture to show compliance and servitude: one hand palm up and one hand palm down, touching on the sides.(Previous Chapter Twenty-Four) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-Six)While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

Thank you to everyone who tuned into the live and has watched the recording. Be sure to check out Garen’s other stories, they’re top shelf. If you become a paid subscriber, I’ll pick my favorite of your stories to read live. Paid subs are currently 2.25 a month, or 12 a year, and that price is permanent as long as your a paid sub. Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Twenty-Three) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-Five)23rd Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year23Bend shovels into spears. Change water into fire. Steal life from death.From ‘The Book of Conflict’, Chapter 3 Verse 23, the Sanctum of Souls, Written by Saint Ründ in the Unreckoned YearsPetsune approaches the railing of the Haul and looks down at the longboat being mildly thrashed about below. Pet backs away and gestures Chapel forward. “After you,” then he adds sardonically, “first mate Chapel.”Chapel smirks, then moves ahead and down into the longboat. As he climbs down, he calls up to Petsune. “What’s wrong, Pet? ‘Fraid you’ll get wet again?”Petsune grumbles and carefully descends into the small boat. Behind them, Officer Wittkinson, climbs down and sits at the bench where the oars are positions. He motions toward the narrow bench, and Chapel and Petsune squeeze onto it.Chapel unties the boat, and Wittkinson sets his hands to the oars to begin rowing them over to the Lady. Chapel speaks to Wittkinson. “I’m surprised you aren’t bringing any soldiers, Witt.”The Officer glares at him and bites back a retort. “It’s not as if I have anything to fear from you two.”Chapel leans back and lounges against the bow of the little boat. “No, but I figured you’d have someone row for you.”Wittkinson makes the task of rowing appear easy. The oars seem to simply slide in and out of the water without resistance. Wittkinson doesn’t bother responding to Chapel. The further away from the King’s Haul they get, the more Petsune feels uneasy about being in the dinky boat. Chapel appears to be attempting a nap, and Wittkinson doesn’t seem to desire a conversation.Pet tries not to think about the towers of water that are mere inches below his feet, tries not to think about the creatures that could be swimming there. After a minute, Petsune finds himself unable to resist the curiosity of looking over the side. He hesitantly peers over and sees something immense seem to swim just below them. Pet recoils and yells out. “There’s something below us!”, causing the entire boat to rock dangerously on its keel. Wittkinson steadies the boat and scolds Petsune. “Of course there is, priest, it’s the top of a tower vine. We’re in the Misty Shoals.” Petsune looks over the side again and sees Wittkinson is right.Just below the surface there are the large bulbous fronds of tower vines, all stemming from one side of the plant. From the other side of the plant grows the thin wavy leaves that look like feathers drifting in the current. The water is extremely clear this far from any Mass, and Petsune can see at least a tower deep into the warm waters. The forest of vines is thick, at times growing right up to the surface and in other places not reaching as high. Wittkinson speaks again. “So, how does a Deepblood end up aboard a whaler?”Petsune continues to watch the drifting forests below. He responds while watching the flitting shimmers of runnykit and fodderfee dart between vines. “Well, it was sort of an accident.”Wittkinson just looks at him waiting for more of the story, but Pet is engrossed in the view over the side.When you’re aboard a taller or faster ship, all you see is the near featureless horizon of ocean and sky. But when you slow down and get close to the surface, that’s when the world below becomes apparent. Right now, Pet feels as though he is floating eerily over a hidden world; like a passing windgull, flying over a Mass. There is so much down there that it almost frightens Petsune if he fixates on it. Wittkinson speaks a little louder than before. “Hello, priest?”Petsune realizes with embarrassment that Officer Wittkinson is trying to speak to him. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”“I asked if it was common to find a Deepblood on a whaling ship.”“Oh, no, not that I’m aware of. They’re typically collecting dust in an archive or translating some old treatise.”Wittkinson makes a grumbling noise. “You say they’re and not we’re, and I see you wear the belt of an Empty Hand. Are you not a Deepblood?”Petsune stares down into the water, this time hearing the Officer. “To be honest, I don’t know what I am anymore. A few weeks ago, I would’ve said I was a Deepblood. Now… well, now I’m not so sure. I’m realizing that people are not so easily defined.”Wittkinson continues rowing, drawing them closer to the Lady. “I think I would agree.”Their longboat maneuvers between the roots of the Lady and then draws alongside. Chapel looks deep in thought, then suddenly says in a sure voice. “I need to get one of these.”Petsune raises an eyebrow and says, “One of what?”“A longboat. Very useful.”Petsune rolls his eyes in amusement, then Cheese throws down a rope to Chapel and they pull themselves against the ship. Once aboard, Wittkinson finds his way to the quarter deck where Mavis is standing behind the ship wheel. Chapel follows, but Petsune decides to catch up with his friends while he is here. Without warning, Petsune is lifted easily off the ground and squeezed like a grapple. The Big Man hugs him tightly and then sets him down gently on the deck. “Little Pet! You are back! Aye, It is very good to see you. I never thought I would hug a priest.”Shushilah and Cheese are standing behind Petsune.Shushilah looks fondly at Petsune. “Is true, Pet. It is very good to be seeing you. We were afraid they would be breaking your backs, I’m thinking.”Petsune looks up toward Wittkinson. “We have been working hard, but it’s actually not so bad.”Cheese grabs Pet’s hand and pokes the palm. “Looks like they been usin’ your skills for polishin’ the decks.” She says, dropping his hand.“Oh, yes. A lot of that. The King’s Haul will shine brighter than the Saints sun by the time we arrive at Dintish Mass.”“Hah!” Benefield laughs loudly, “no doubt, little Pet. No doubt. A fine trick you taught us there. Works right fine on butter and grease too, as Bor found out. He was in rather a good mood when his favorite pan came quite clean with it.”Petsune nearly blushes at the praise.Cheese gestures toward Mavis and Chapel with her thumb. “Any idea what Captain wants with the stiff fella?”“Yes, we were wondering this. Is he letting you stay with us now?” Shushilah asks.Petsune appears slightly crestfallen. “No, I’m afraid it isn’t that, though I do believe he is beginning to trust us. I believe Chapel and I will be aboard the King’s Haul until we arrive at the Royal Mass.”Cheese makes a loud tsk sound. “Ain’t fair.”“Aye,” Benefield chimes in, “we gave our word we wouldn’t be running off.”“Well, it’s likely Wittkinson’s life on the line if we do, so I can’t say I blame him. I think Mavis wants to discuss the route we’re taking, or at least that’s what Wittkinson thinks. He seems to be a good man. I may have misjudged him. Besides, he has the prospect of war hanging over his head, poor man.”Shushilah smiles and pats Petsune’s shoulder lightly. “You are a kind person, Petsune. And you are right, I’m thinking. Is not so easy knowing death is in the future.”Cheese and Shushilah walk away, but Petsune stops The Big Man. “Hey, have you seen the General? I just wanted to see how he’s doing.”“Aye, he’s helping Bor clean the rest of the pots, on account of your new trick.”“Thanks,” Petsune begins walking away but turns back, “oh, and Benefield?”“Aye, little Pet?”“Don’t forget what I said before: I’d be honored to listen to anyone who wishes to talk.”Petsune turns and walks toward the foredeck and The Big Man watches him walk away.Chapel, Mavis and Wittkinson are standing at the stern of the Lady, looking back to the King's Haul. Mavis is speaking to Wittkinson. “I know that. I just don’t think we need be risky in our haste. The Flower is not to be taken lightly. Besides, it won’t add much time to the journey if we simply maintain a western heading, then go north toward Broadfell and sail across the Slick Sea.”“It will add at least a day, likely more,” Wittkinson says, “and we do not have that time. We are at war, Captain Mavis.”Chapel stifles a laugh as Mavis replies. “I understand. But sailing south now—”“Would mean an earlier arrival time.” Wittkinson cuts in, “We sail south, around the Floating Forests, and into the Deadships, then we’ll have a shorter sail to the Royal Mass. We could shorten our travel time by a day or two.”Mavis looks away from the Officer and out toward the South-West horizon. The barely visible silhouettes of the Forest darken the horizon in uneven bumps. Mavis speaks flatly and in a tired voice. “Many a Captain has underestimated the reach of The Flower. I don’t think it worth the risk to arrive two days sooner.”“Consider your thoughts noted, Captain, but we will be sailing South from here.”Wittkinson seems to size up Mavis, but Mavis only appears saddened by the Officer. “Very well. On your own head be it.”Wittkinson becomes impossibly stiffer before speaking. “And I will be returning with your two crew mates. They have proven amenable to the tasks set them, and I need to ensure you don’t act on any cowardly impulses.”Wittkinson turns on his heel and begins returning to the longboat.Petsune is speaking with General Tar. “—the soldiers were even fighting each other at one point. You would’ve been ashamed to see it.”“Hmm, is that so?” The General says, “not on my ship, no sir. When I was in the navy, you’d have been drawn and quartered for that type of —”“We’re leaving, priest. Let’s be off.” Wittkinson cuts in.“Oh, alright then. Well, it was good to talk again, General. I’ve missed you, all of you.”“Hmm, and we’ve missed you.”“Oh, and tell The Big Man to keep singing. We can hear him back on the King’s Haul and it’s been a taste of home.”Petsune waves a hand, and the General does a swift solute with a light stamp of his boot. Wittkinson climbs down into the boat first, followed by Chapel and lastly Pet. Before Petsune mounts the ladder, he asks Chapel’s descending head, “So, what happened?”But Chapel simply frowns. “Nothing good, unfortunately. But on the bright side, you'll finally be able to see the Floating Forests of Gar Hedron.”(Previous Chapter Twenty-Three) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-Five)(hey, thanks for reading. Appreciate you.) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Second Interlude) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-Four)23rd Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned YearI speak softly to your loosely held soul,pleading not for time,nor for life,nor for ease.I beg for guidance in the world below,that I might find youbefore your final peace“Mourning Song”, From Sanctum of Souls Eulogy, Written by Saint Ründ in the Unreckoned YearsPetsune watches mindlessly as a half-empty bottle of something rolls back and forth across the decking, following the rise and fall of the waves. The smell of this ship is rancid, like rotten potatoes festering in mead on a hot day. Petsune overheard yesterday that the name of the ship is the King’s Haul. He finds it fitting since it makes him think of a heavy burden. There is some kind of rotating schedule for who is delegated what task, but with the addition of Petsune and Chapel, most of the unfavorable tasks have fallen to them, indefinitely. Yesterday, they completed the useless task of polishing the bowsprit and figurehead. Petsune ended up in the water twice.Currently, they are tasked with scrubbing down and cleaning out the crew’s quarters. This space is undoubtedly the filthiest, filled with the junk and disarray of a dozen men’s lives. There are dirty dishes, filthy clothes, and piles of stinking unknowns. Chapel and Petsune are about halfway through the area and have already filled two canvas sacks. Chapel is scrubbing fiercely at a particularly truculent patch of something sticky. Petsune is supposed to be collecting refuse, but he has become entranced by the bottle as his thoughts run away from him. The room smells like the collective bad breath of a thousand men.In the corner of Petsune’s vision, a soldier sleeps in a hammock, mouth agape. The hanging bed swings gently to the rhythm of the rolling bottle. Petsune speaks to Chapel without taking his eyes off the somersaulting glass. “How long is it to Dintish Mass?”Chapel seems to be scrubbing a hole clean through the decking. “About another 6 days, I think.”Petsune groans slightly. He returns to clearing away the accumulated dross and refuse of years. He gingerly pinches a soiled rag, or maybe it’s a shirt, between two fingers and drops it into the canvas sack of trash. Just then, Petsune catches a snatch of a faint sound on the wind, coming from the porthole. Petsune walks closer to the porthole and strains to listen over Chapel’s ceaseless scrubbing. Suddenly, Petsune can make out the sound and he tells Chapel to be quiet. The Captain leaves off the scrubbing and walks over to the porthole.From across the water, they can hear the Big Man’s sonorous voice singing. He croons out a verse, and then repeats it before adding the next line. After two repetitions, Chapel speaks quietly. “Well, I’ll be drowned. He’s singing with Sprig’s bird.”Pet smiles, picturing the scene aboard the Lady’s decks: the rotund prattlebeak perched in the rigging and the Big Man gently serenading it. They listen for a few more moments, glad of any reason to stop working. After a few minutes, Chapel speaks again. “He used to work the Mines, you know? The Mines of Vohfay are especially dark because it isn’t Saintstone but some black rock that burns. I don’t think there are any Saintstone mines in Broadfell, just deposits here and there, so the Fellbin often use special songs to communicate, it echoes better down the shafts and tunnels. It was at least a year he was on the Lady before I heard him sing again. That first time I heard him in a tavern, he was drinking to forget his pain.”Petsune doesn’t speak, opting to listen to Chapel and Benafield instead. Chapel continues after a brief pause to hear the Big Man’s song. “He lost his wife when a tunnel collapsed in the mines. He doesn’t talk about it much, but I know he is still bitter. Who wouldn’t be… Fellpost HelBenledore was pushing all the mines to dig deeper than was safe because they’d nearly exhausted Broadfell’s Saintstine.”Petsune moves away from the porthole, continuing to clean out the crew's quarters. Pet listens still to the distant melody of Benefield. “It seems like your crew has seen a lot of tragedy and pain.”“Business of righting wrongs - remember?”“You know, Harlan said something to me just before we left the Misty Shoals.”“Oh? He doesn’t do much of that.”“Yes, he said that something like ‘the best way to eliminate an enemy is to give them what they want’. Any idea what that means?”Chapel looks up and seems to consider the question. The soldier in the hammock snorts loudly, and then begins to snore. Chapel returns to his scrubbing and finally answers Pet. “You remember me saying Harlan was supposed to be hanged?”“Sort of hard to forget that, yes.”“Well, it wasn’t for being a pirate, it was because he was a member of the Fāy-Núl Tör, and the Sanctum caught wind of it.”“Oh… oh. So, he was…”“A zealot? Yeah, sort of.”“I mean, once The Great Schism occurred and the Tör split from the Sanctum, they essentially became assassins hiding behind the guise of Saint Ründ’s will.”“Right.” Chapel says.“He doesn’t sound all that innocent to me…”“Nobody is truly innocent, Pet. But Harlan didn’t deserve to hang.”“If you say so.” Petsune answers skeptically.“Harlan is very wise, and if he said something to you then you should think on it.”“But how can I think on it? What he’s saying is that the best way to eliminate an enemy - the Kingdom of Dintash - is to give them what they want - the eradication of the Coldor Cleave. There’s nothing to think on.”“The Fāy-Núl Tör are notoriously vague and mysterious. They like shrouds and shadow, and they never speak plainly, in my experience.”Petsune doesn’t answer Chapel right away. Overhead, a scuffle between two soldiers sounds like it is occurring. There is a resulting grunt and then the dull thud of someone dropping to their knees before Wittkinson’s voice rings out to halt the fighting. Petsune pulls his eyes down from their useless upward gaze and focuses on Chapel again. “But why? Why not just speak plainly if he has something to tell me.”Chapel looks at Pet. “Some truths are only valuable if self-discovered.” He continues vigorously attacking the sticky glob of who-knows-what. It appears to have shrunk a minuscule amount.They work in silence as occasional bursts of laughter or bouts of coughing suddenly break the quiet. Chapel finishes with the resilient stain, sitting back on his heels again to marvel at his handiwork. He holds out a hand and Petsune places a length of snagweed into his palm. Chapel wipes his forehead with his sleeve, then scrubs the newly cleaned spot until it shines. They move further down the area, cleaning as they go, prying crusted food off of floorboards, scraping dried liquids from the wood. By the time they reach the end of the crew's quarters, they both reek. Petsune is tempted to throw himself overboard, just for a change of scene and smell.They look backward to appreciate their handiwork and at nearly the same moment, Wittkinson’s expensive polished boots click down the steps. He approaches them briskly, momentarily taken aback by the polished sheen of the crew quarters.Despite clearly noticing their handiwork, he doesn’t comment on it. “Right. Your Captain is hailing us from the stern of the Lady, and I suspect it is to discuss the route we will take to Dintish Mass.” All of the rigidity seems to drain away from Wittkinson then, and Petsune becomes suddenly aware that this person is sailing toward war. The officer continues speaking, but no longer looks at Petsune or Chapel. “Now, I am not without sight, nor am I without feeling. I have seen how you two have worked, and I am impressed. You seem to give your best despite the circumstances. As a sign of my appreciation for your cooperation and diligence, I will allow you to row over with me to your ship. You may remain with me while I discuss our route with your captain, but you must return with me back to the King’s Haul after. Is that clear?”Chapel smiles honestly. “You’re a good man, Wittkinson. We appreciate the allowance.”Petsune asks curiously. “When are we rowing over?”Wittkinson seems to recover his sharpness, though he maintains his civility. “Now. That’s why I came down, to inform you to head topside.”Petsune feels slightly giddy knowing he’ll soon be back aboard the Lady. Suddenly it strikes him how fond he has become of the ship in such a short time, then he thinks of the crew. He genuinely misses them and will be more than glad to see them again. He has a question for Pickett about a strange fish he heard mentioned by a soldier, and a neat trick that made him think of Sprig when he saw another soldier use it. He finds himself smiling broadly as he wonders if they’ll have time for a game of Runny. He imagines Cheese picking a strange pot and laughs lightly to himself as Wittkinson ascends the stairs to the main deck. Chapel looks over at Pet curiously. “What’s so funny?”Petsune laughs again. “Just thinking how nice it’ll be to get back over there, even if for a little.”Chapel returns Petsune’s wide smile. “Yeah. I’m mostly excited to listen to someone call Mavis ‘Captain’ for a whole conversation.” The two of them laugh as they mount the stairs to the main deck.(Previous Chapter Second Interlude) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-Four) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

This is one of three bonus stories I included in the hardcover version of my fantasy novel, Swells Over Still Waters (the Amazon pricing for hardcovers is expensive so I wanted to make it special). These stories hold no spoilers for the book and take place prior to it, giving extra depth to secondary characters I liked. I’ll be publishing them alongside each Interlude.When Gorsha was a little girl, she looked up at the stars and asked her mother where they came from. Her mother told her a story of a crab that she knew as the pinchfast crab, but in the north, in the mountains of Broadfell Keep, it was called a knitting crab. Her mother explained that in the north, the crab has a different name because the Fellbin’s believe the knitting crab was once in love with the moon and all it’s splendor. But when the crab realized they could never be together, it became ashamed and sad. In it’s grief, the knitting crab fashioned a black cloth to cover the sky so that it might not have to see the moon every night. But the crab moved too quickly and clumsily for the task, and the black shroud it fashioned had many holes and gaps. The moon shown through and it’s bright light pricked the cloth all over with dots. Now, at the end of every night the knitting crab pulls down its black cloth and tries to mend the holes that the moon can be seen through, but in mending one hole, another tears open. That is why the moon is sometimes hidden completely, and other nights only part of it can be seen peeking through.Gorsha stares up at the night sky, thinking fondly of her mother and listening to the lapping water below her. Her mother told her to not be like the crab, to not just dream of the moon, but to find a way to get it. She told her that the stories say Oullman comes from an ancient language and means shining one, just like the moon. When she thinks back, she knows that is when she decided she would be the Oullman of Filkash. Someday. When Gorsha levels her gaze, her neck is stiff with age and her lungs plead for air. She kneads her shoulder and walks away from the edge of Gardeep Fill, the floating island of tangled vines where she has lived her whole life. She walks every night, gazing at the stars and feeling lonely, but tonight more so. When she enters her small home, she lights a fire in the stone hearth. It crackles a soothing melody, a new voice in the song of the lapping water. The entire world was singing, if you knew how to listen. Gorsha knows how, her mother taught her.Tomorrow is 25 years since Oullman Wellisham took on the mantle of Oullman. He has no kin who desire the title, and so it is the day of the Contest. He has chosen the Contest of Breaths, which is not one Gorsha is as confident in. Her mother taught her to not just dream though, so she plans to win. She thinks this as her chest burns and her lungs scream for air, then even her vision darkens at the edges, until she finally releases the breath she has been holding. She blows out air slowly, rather than in a desperate huff. Tonight’s walk, she made it the whole way back home and even lit the fire. It’s the longest she has ever held her breath, and she thinks she can go longer. Tomorrow will tell.She dreams of her mother knitting an endless black cloth. She wakes in the morning to the sound of distant windgulls and the nascent bustle of emerging trade, a new verse in the ancient song of the world. The nearby market stalls open like new blooms and the customers crowd like birds. The fire in the hearth has burned down to the gently breathing embers. Gorsha stirs them, digging up the orange glow from beneath the ash. She places two pieces of dry sweetbread on the baking rack, then swings it over the orange heat. As she prepares her breakfast, she holds her breath for small increments, continuing to breathe and hold the air until she sits at her table with a dish of buttered toast and a cup of tepid coffee.A high sharp horn rings out from the docks on the edge of the Fill. Gorsha walks out of town bearing a coil of rope, down to the docks where she sees the Oullman standing at the gunnel of his elaborate ship. He quiets the gathered crowd and begins speaking. “The Contest of Breaths will commence at the base of Windrock Cairn when the Saints Sun touches the base tomorrow, as is the tradition. All those wishing to compete must have a partner, and must approve their rope and marker prior to the start. Good luck all. May the Saints fill your sails —”And like a huge congregation, the whole gathered town responds, “— and may the sea find your star.”The horn peels off another high note and the Oullman’s ship pulls away from the dock with waves of both water and hands.Gorsha assumed the contest would be held at the Face of Dōmünfoll, the traditional place, but it should not make a difference. She approaches one of many stands at the dock where a contestant can barter for a partner, a rope, and a marker if they need any of the three. She attempts to barter with the man, but he waves her off. “Is nothing, no worries. I am still owing you for the bread.”She smiles and waits as he impatiently waves over a young boy. She follows him over to a small schooner and sees he cannot be older than 17, likely the stand owner’s son. She boards the small schooner after the boy, and within seconds he is steering them off the dock and to the north. Sailing across the Deep Sea will take the entire day, wind permitting, so Gorsha lays down in the front of the schooner. She listens to the straining ropes that hold the sail, the creaking hull as it twists and shifts, and the frothing water as it is carved away by the prow. She falls asleep easily.Gorsha dreams of a long crab the size of a two-masted whaler, it’s claws clacking together rapidly as it knits together a sprawling black cloth. Her mother stands in the center of the darkness and Gorsha runs to her, only to find her mother sinking. Soon, Gorsha is sinking after her, melting into the empty void and swimming down, chasing her mother’s limp and peaceful body as it is pulled deeper by the dead weight tied to her foot. She rouses to an uneasy feeling and knows that they have arrived. Being near Windrock Cairn always brings strange dreams and an atmosphere of unease. She rises from the bottom of the simple schooner and turns to see the immense obelisk of white stone rising out of the Deep Sea to stab high into the sky like a knife. It is just before the first sun’s rise, and birds are swirling around the height of Windrock Cairn, the precipice proving almost beyond sight. The white stone of the pillar glows in the early morning ambience, and when the first rays of sun touch the Cairn, it’s a beautiful and haunting sight. Misty clouds appear skewered on the massive stone pillar like ghostly fish, red light bleeding down the stone.The boy piloting the ship pulls them alongside the sprawling length of the obelisk's nearest face. There are already dozens of other boats fixed to the side of the Cairn with rigid wooden tethers. He doesn’t bother dropping the anchor, as the limit of the Deep Sea has never been sounded. Instead, Gorsha watches as he detaches a long wooden pole from the side of the ship and sticks it into a bucket of snagweed. The sticky seaweed adheres to the pole easily and when the boy jams it against the Cairn, it sticks fast. He does so again with another pole and soon the small schooner is fixed to Windrock Cairn by two poles from it’s stern and bow.When she hands the boy her coil of rope, he seems to study it critically. He nods to himself, as though he were the official approving the rope, then he attaches a small weight to one end and the other to the mast, dropping the weighted end over the far side. Gorsha unties a thin strip of purple fabric from her hair, a piece of the childhood blanket her mother sewed and swaddled her in. The boy glances at it and nods to himself again. Sometime later, Oullman Wellisham’s voice carries across the water and bounces gently off the white stone of the obelisk. “The Contest of Breaths begins now, divers: carry your markers as deep as your lungs will allow, then return to the surface to measure your results. Whoever places their marker farthest down the sounding line will be named the new Oullman of Filkash. May Delód’s breath fill your lungs.”A few eager divers drop into the water as soon as the speech is over, though the contest is not one of speed. Gorsha closes her eyes and tries to clear her mind, breathing deeply. She hears the birds high above and the water just below, the sounds of divers splashing, and the high keening sound of the wind off the Cairn. She pushes all of these things out of her mind as she begins breathing more rapidly. She removes a thumbnail-sized wooden clip carved into the shape of a crab claw, and fixes her mind on the imagined rapid clacking of a knitting crab’s claws. She sees it in her mind and no longer hears the world around her, hearing only her own rapid shallow breaths that sound like the clicking of pincers. She places the wooden claw over her nose, then dives off the far side of the boat.The moment Gorsha plunges into the cold dark water of the Deep Sea, she hears bubbles tumbling over each other to return to the surface. Then there is only the muffled creaking of submerged hulls, and as she propels herself downward, even that is soon left behind. Behind her closed eyelids, the brightness of early morning is supplanted by the dull red glow of muted light, then as she swims easily downward, the red bleeds away to black. Still she reaches over her head to scoop handfuls of the world steadily behind her, burrowing deeper into the abyss.As she tunnels deeper, swimming headlong into the deepest part of the Sea, it feels as though she is clawing her way into the earth. She pictures her mother down there, somewhere below in the perfect darkness. Her head seems to fill with air and pressure, complaining with swelling throbs. She begins letting out small amounts of air in trails of bubbles to relieve the mounting pressure inside. Her descent continues, until she feels a familiar burn in her lungs, her body beginning to fight for air. She reaches out and feels a moment of mild panic when she doesn’t immediately find the rope, then her hand brushes it. She fixes her purple ribbon of fine Filkish silk to the rope, then begins kicking to return to the surface. Except she kicks something in the blackness and she realizes with genuine panic that her foot is caught in a frond of snagweed growing on the stone pillar. She tries to hold off the terror as she kicks blindly at the sticky seaweed, all while gripping the rope.The boy in the boat watched as Gorsha faded into a dull blue shadow, then he waited. She has been down there for a while, and other divers have already begun surfacing. He begins to feel a small knot of anxiety in his gut, so he leans over, searching. Suddenly, he notices several tugs on the line. Before he can even think, he is grabbing and hauling the rope, feeling the weight of a body at the end. He scrambles to heave in lengths of rope as fast as he can, hoping the lady doesn’t prove to be one of the few unfortunates that never resurface. Then he sees a dim shape emerging from the depths.Gorsha was struggling with the snagweed, unable to free her foot, when she felt the rope being reeled in. She grabs tightly, clinging desperately to it in hopes of being pulled up out of the snagweed. The boy is strong from years of hard labor and she feels the snagweed tear away, but now she senses that she is resurfacing too rapidly. Her ears feel like a wine skin left in the sun, but she doesn’t dare to let go of the rope. She hears crackling and feels an intense burning pain in her head, then a final muted pop, followed by nothing, save for the eerie silence of endless water. She nearly passes out from the pain, but she clings to consciousness as tightly as she does the rope.The boy sees that Gorsha is alive and hurriedly begins pulling her from the water and into the boat. She is breathing, but appears dazed. The boy looks at her with concern and holds her shoulders, “Hey, hey lady? Are you okay? Hello?”Gorsha blinks a few times and can hear muffled sounds. She sees that the boy is speaking to her, but she cannot hear him, it sounds as though someone shoved moss into her ears. The boy notices with growing unease that the water dripping down the side of Gorsha’s neck has wisps of red in it, trailing up to her ears. When she speaks, her own voice sounds fuzzy and faraway, like she is still just under the water and someone is talking to her from above the surface.She stands clumsily, feeling as though the world were swirling around her. She begins to shake her head, intending to clear her ear canals of water. The boy grabs her by the shoulders, partly to help her stand and partly to stop her from shaking the water out of her ears. She looks at him and sees he is staring at her ear, then she touches the wetness there and her hand comes back a watery red. She knows then that she may never hear well again, even if her ears heal. She sits back down heavily, grieving the loss of the world's song. Yet, when she sits and closes her eyes, she returns to that moment of peace just before she dove off the boat.Later, the high note of the horn cuts across the water, but Gorsha barely hears it. She is lying in the bottom of the gently rocking boat, staring up past the swaying mast at the point of Windrock Cairn. It seems to spin as she watches, and maybe, if she focuses, she thinks she can hear the wind ringing off the edges in ghostly high tones. The boy steps into her view with a huge grin on his face and his lips say something, but she only hears garbled sounds. She stands unsteadily and sees every person on the other boats all staring at her boat — no, at her — and they are smiling, and clapping. She sees her mother’s smile in them, and she hears the muffled clicking of pincers in their clapping.Check out the novel, here at the homepage (It’s got an audiobook option as well).Check out Tragedy Mill, another stand-alone story in the world of Swells (also with audio). Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Twenty-Two) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-Three)(Authors Note: the formatting for the Interludes doesn’t hold up well in Substack, but hopefully they are still readable and enjoyable. They are not essential to the story, but they serve to color in the world. Also some of the most over-the-top and ridiculous voice work is in the interlude spaces, so enjoy that.)Excerpt From ‘Records of the Oullman of Filkash’Dōmünfoll, earliest recorded Oullman, who led for 25 years according to tradition from the age of 31 to 56, whence the Oullman was passed to his sonThe Great Schism: when the Fāy-Núl Tör seceded from the Sanctum of Souls, occurred during the 22nd year of Dōmünfoll’s leadershipDōhfass, first recorded blood successor, who led for 25 years according to tradition from the age of 30 to 55, whence the Oullman was passed to winner of Contest of WeightsGunsha, first recorded winner of the Contests, who led for 13 years from 20 to 33 until his death in a shipwreck, whence the Oullman was passed to his brotherUshin, second recorded blood successor, who led for 25 years according to tradition from the age of 26 to 51, whence the Oullman was passed to winner of Contest of BreathsJesska, second recorded winner of the Contests, who led 20 years from the age of 32 to 52, whence the Oullman was passed to her twin sisterShuntiss, third recorded blood successor, who led for 10 years from 45 to 55 until her death at sea, whence the Oullman was passed to her younger sister’s sonLaw of Reckoning is instituted by King Wonum the Wise of Dintash, existing records of Filkash compiled into an official record by ShuntissIshila, fourth recorded blood successor, who led for 25 years according to tradition from the age of 28 to 53, whence the Oullman was passed to the winner of Contest of WeightsTrowdish, the scorned Oullman, who won the Contest of Weights by way of deception and was discovered after 3 years of leadership, having led from the age of 21 to 24, whence the Oullman was passed to the cheatedJiya, third recorded winner of Contests, who reigned 25 years according to tradition from the age of 36 to 61, whence the Oullman was passed to her brother’s sonFortiba, fifth recorded blood successor, who led for 25 years according to tradition from the age of 20 to 45, whence the Oullman was passed to his sonKeelay, sixth recorded blood successor, who led for 25 years according to tradition and who broke tradition with another 5 years of leadership from the age of 34 to 64, who died in the first year of the North War, whence the Oullman was passed by wartime rights to the highest-ranking military generalWellisham, seventh recorded blood successor, who led for 25 years according to tradition from the age of 29 to 54, whence the Oullman was passed to winner of Contest of Depths.Gorsha, fourth recorded winner of Contests, who has led 4 years thus far from the age of 62From The Lineages of the Four Nations, written by Maliabar Handwell in the 93rd Reckoned Year and Revised in the 125th Reckoned YearExcerpt, ‘Uncommon and Rare Sea Life’Feverweep are long eel-like fish that reach up to a full tower in length. They have a variety of unique and noteworthy features. They possess six eyes, three on either side of the head, an inner jaw that rests within the throat to be extended out at prey within striking distance, and venomous fangs in the prominent outer jaw. They tend to be found in the Slick Sea and the Broad Sea, though there have been sightings in Strange Sea as well. They will eat anything sizable enough to merit pursuit, including other feverweep, and have even been spotted locked in combat with storm squid, though their favorite meal is the martag ray.Boiler Sharks are the largest species of shark, typically reaching lengths of 60 to 75 feet. They are normally found in the cooler waters to the west and the south of the Shipwreck Straits. In the few times these sharks have been seen hunting, it appears that they favor whales and wake folders. The boiler shark has a specialized method of stunning its prey where it passes water through its open mouth to specialized heating glands along the gills. The water then expelled from its gills is of such an extremely hot temperature that the prey, accustomed to cooler waters, is stunned into a paralyzed state. They say that a boiler shark can set the waters to boil if it is near the surface, though this has never been creditably observed or verified.Mossfin Turtles are the rarest of the eight observed species of turtles, reaching a length of 15 feet across and 15 feet in length. When seen from a ship, they resemble a mossy rock or a mound of tower vine. The shell of a mossfin is soft and pliable, lending little in the way of protection. They live primarily among the floating forests, favoring the fallen fruit as their primary food source. They have been seen out in open ocean, so it is assumed they stray from the forests for other food sources when the fruits are not in season, though it is not known what else they eat.Slump Fluke are a slow, lumbering fish named for their prominent caudal tail fin, which extends far above their dorsal fin and far below their pectoral fins. They are not commonly seen, so the general size is an average of the documented specimens thus far, which is a length of 8 feet, and 17 feet from bottom to top of the tail. They have very small and almost useless pectoral fins that remain flat against the body, a small dorsal bump, and the standard two eyes on either side of the head. There is a clear, luminescent gland beneath each eye, resembling a thick tear being shed. This has led to the slump fluke being nicknamed the sad fluke. It is as yet unknown what the purpose of these glands is.Martag Rays are classified as a ray, due to their long thin tail and their two wing-like fins, however, when spotted below the surface, they more closely resemble a fodderfin. The body of a martag is believed to be an average of 4 or 5 feet long, and half that in height. Martags can only be distinguished as a ray due to their long, thin tail that bears a pointed barb toward the end. Their pectoral fins look like a typical fish when below the water, being vertical to the body. Between the vertical portion of fin and their body however, is a thin horizontal fin that can extend outward, giving the martag a wing with a rudder on each end. They are capable of launching themselves from the water, unfolding their wings, and gliding for large distances. While not good for eating, they are still hunted by some for their strange pectoral fins, which whalers believe bring favorable winds when mounted to the figurehead.Translated From the Filkish Text, Sea Life of Yath, written by Remull Mawgard in the 100th Reckoned Year and Revised in the 124th Year Excerpt, ‘Natural Phenomena’…There are several known rock formations and underwater mountain ranges that stick out above the water. I am of course discounting the mountainous land of Broadfell Keep, which is too large to be considered merely a rock formation. One of the most famous of these formations is known as the Face of Dōmünfoll, which can be found in the Filkish Oullman, near the southernmost portion of the Sea of Saints. I could find no historical record for when this formation was named, however records do show that there was an Oullman named Dōmünfoll far back in Filkash’s history. I was unable to determine if the name stems from a likeness or is simply a title. I was able to observe and can say that the formation does vaguely resemble a face, though the suns must be in just the right position to give the proper effect. It is worth a visit in the right lighting, though is mostly unimpressive otherwise. It is this traveler's advice to visit the site just before second sunset.Another such natural phenomena I was able to observe is the immense rock wall that lies at the northernmost reaches of Broadfell Keep. It is known as The Great Unpass, presumably because it is an impassable mountain with no way through it or over it. The Unpass extends high enough into the sky that clouds typically obscure the upper portion, rendering it a truly breathtaking site. I highly recommend this site as a place that should be seen by all. During my time in Broadfell, I was never able to observe the upper heights of the Unpass. The secrets of The Great Unpass, if there are any, are closely guarded by the Fellpost’s of Broadfell. I was able to attain a brief interview with Fellpost HelBenTorkinlock, though it consisted mostly of grunts and denials. I was only able to dig up one more fact, a nickname the Fellbin’s have for The Great Unpass: They call it the ‘Stone Storm Wall’.While I was in Broadfell, I also observed the Bay of Boiling Waters, which is mostly viewed from the coast line below the Caves of Vohmun-Steeck. It is sight for certain, though is not as impressive as the name makes it out to be. The Bay gets its name from the hundreds, if not thousands of sharp rocks that jut up through the surface of the water. When combined with the crashing waves, the water becomes a frothy white foam, as though it were boiling. This is not the only place where rocks poke up through the water, but the reason this particular place is more noteworthy is due to the unique combination of crashing waves and rocks, leading to the resemblance of boiling water. There are also many large vats of glowing millie juice carefully placed around the rocks, so as to warn off sailors from piercing their hulls. It is this traveler’s advice to visit the site during a night with a blacksmith’s moon, to better see the glow.One natural phenomena I was not able to properly observe was the massive whirlpool known as The Flower, just above the Shipwreck Straits. I attempted to charter a vessel for this purpose but was viewed with great suspicion of madness and I eventually settled for a whaler that said they would come within viewing distance of the thing. We approached from the Slick Sea, sailing south toward the whirlpool. I was told we had arrived and was then handed an eyeglass and told this was as close as we would get. I was able to observe a slight sinking in the surface of the ocean, and I could see the currents were quite strong, but this was all I was able to observe for myself. Because of the danger, and thereby difficulty, in seeing the Flower, it is this traveler’s advice to forgo a visit altogether. There are dozens of accounts of ships being lost to the grasp of the Flower. I was also able to locate the source of the name, which came from the ship log of an old Dintish exploratory vessel that had the good fortune of surviving a close encounter. The captain referred to the thing as the Flower, and warned off other sailors, though not very successfully, I might add.After ridding myself of the whaler and its regrettable smells, I chartered a new vessel to see the infamous Pits of Vare Doh-shah. The pleasure barge I chartered from Folders Fill had several high lookouts from which to view the submerged holes. It is this traveler’s advice to ensure such a vantage is possible, as it renders the Pits mysterious and consuming. The captain of the vessel regaled me with stories of how an ancient cult known as the Vain Ulltor, or some such nonsense, used to sink the bodies of their victims and any unusable stolen goods down into the unplumbable depths. I doubt there is any truth to this story, though it was a fascinating anecdote. The captain also told me that there are old folktales that say the name means Pits of Blue Fire in some long-dead language. I have my suspicions about this tale as well, but it is fascinating none-the-less.My final sally into the far reaches of the map was to see a place I was not sure existed at all. I had heard rumors that there was the body of a mythical beast, long dead, somewhere in the eastern area of the Strange Sea. The place, as I heard it called, was Deepfoot Shoal, and it was a long stretching island said to be the shell of some ancient mythical creature called a Deepfoot. After much difficulty, I managed to attain a charter from Balehorn Mass southwest through the Strange Sea, then north again to make port at some man-made trade port by the name of Sailwind Stop. The trade port was not on my map, but I trusted my charter. Unfortunately, I never did see this elusive Deepfoot Shoal, however I was able to see the Floating Forest of Domevole, which this traveler does recommend a visit to. This floating forest is tinged a dull black from the Strange Sea, with bright white leaves covering the branches.From An Honest Travel Guide, written by Teller ‘Tell All’ Delkinmast in the 3rd Reckoned YearExcerpt, ‘Rules of the Contests’The Contest for Oullman shall be chosen by the current Oullman, should no blood relative desire the position. The following are designated options for Contests, however a new Contest may be formed by way of a vote.The Contest of Weights is intended to be an exhibition of an Oullman’s ability to weigh and measure the immaterial, such as truth and justice, as well as the material, such as taxes and goods.A large, measured portion of material is to be set in the center of the Fill for all inhabitants to see, then guess the weight of the material, with the closest guess receiving the title of Oullman.The Contest of Heights is intended to be an exhibition of an Oullman’s ability to brave the heights of leadership, as well as ascend to them safely.All desiring contestants will gather at Windrock Cairn with their personalized marker and set to climb the highest up its sheer face without any ropes, thus receiving the title of Oullman.The Contest of Winds is intended to be an exhibition of an Oullman’s ability to navigate the nation of Filkash through great distance and perils.All desiring contestants will gather at Nunfee Fill and set sail north across the Deep Sea to Frozen Fill, being the first to arrive, thereby receiving the title of Oullman.The Contest of Breaths is intended as an exhibition of an Oullman’s ability to withstand great pressures and dark situations.All desiring contestants will gather at the Face of Dōmünfoll and swim down its length while bearing a measured rope, with the deepest dive receiving the title of Oullman.Translated From the Filkish Dictum, Oullman of Filkash, written by Oullman Dōhfass in the Unreckoned Years and Revised in the 50th Reckoned Year(Previous Chapter Twenty-Two) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-Three) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Twenty-One) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Second Interlude)20th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned YearThere was once a man who found an ancient cave. Inside, there was a fire lit long ago, and it illuminated a large wooden sculpture wrought by unknown hands. The sculpture was perfect in every way, flawless and beautiful, and the man wept to see it. He sat and stared, transfixed and captivated by its form. The fire began to dwindle, and the cave grew steadily darker. The man could not bear to lose sight of the sculpture for even a moment, and so he burned anything he had that would light. It became so that he had nothing left, and the fire was bright for a time. But as he marveled at the sculpture, the fire again began to dim. And so it was that the man anxiously decided to shave wood off of the sculpture. He chose places where he would not notice or see. Each time, the fire brightened, only to dwindle quicker than before. And so it happened that the man whittled away at the once perfect sculpture until there was nothing left, and the man sat crying in the dark.From ‘The Sculpture and the Fire’ Parable, King Wonum the Wise in his 4th Year of Reign and 7 Years Pre-reckoningPetsune gasps as he falls toward the surface, sucking in a gulp of air just before he hits the water. It is surprisingly warm, and inexplicably soft. Once he stops sinking and the bubbles have all rolled off of him, he feels plants grabbing at his legs. He begins blindly kicking at the reaching vines, trying to swim up and away. Suddenly, Petsune feels Chapel take his arm and pull him upward, toward the surface. When he emerges from below, he is met with a world of noise and sound. The naval vessel has begun to approach the port side of the Lady. It sounds as though they are swinging alongside of it, likely to lash the two ships together and prevent another escape. Chapel listens and gazes blankly upward as he and Petsune float against the hull of the Lady. Petsune has one hand on the whaler’s platform and is trying not to make any noise.The Captain looks a bit ridiculous with Pickett’s mask on, but Pet wouldn’t mind being able to see underwater. Chapel motions for Petsune to quietly follow, and the two of them pull themselves along the Lady’s hull toward her bow. When they get to the front of the ship, they can see the nose of the navy ship now fixed in a position to broadside the Painful Lady. Chapel silently disappears below the water, appearing again by the bow of the navy ship. Petsune remains hidden from view, waiting for an opportunity to swim across the gap, praying to the Saints that he isn’t spotted. Three soldiers cross the gangway, and then there’s a moment where no one is visible and Petsune dips below the water. He swims down and across, feeling the beginnings of that primal fear bubble in his stomach. Not being able to see what is around him yet knowing that something large and deadly could be just below.Up on the decks of the Painful Lady, Mavis is doing a bad impression of being diplomatic. A gangway plank has been dropped and three soldiers cross the newly formed bridge. The one in front is a stern looking officer, the creases in his uniform and face, sharp enough to cut. He looks around, disparagingly assessing the ship he just acquired. After scoffing, he says loud enough to be heard by all, “Hardly a valuable asset, but I suppose every bit helps… even if it is minuscule.”Mavis has left the helm and is descending the stairs off the quarter deck. He approaches the officer with a face like a pin whale.The officer says to Mavis in a very bored way, “We received word from the Misty Shoals that a ship fled the conscription. It just so happens to be a very distinct ship, exactly like this one.”Petsune pushes himself to stay below the surface and kick his way through the water, but he cannot stand it any longer. The blackened world of unknowns behind his eyelids becomes scarier by the second. Pet surfaces and breathes a deep but quiet breath. When he looks about, he sees nothing but a vast empty ocean and his fear begins to return, until Chapel grabs his shoulder and pulls him backward, out of sight. Chapel has the mask pulled up on top of his head and he moves a solitary finger over his lips, then points upward with it. Someone with an unfriendly voice is speaking with Mavis aboard the Painful Lady. When Petsune looks above them however, he can see a pair of hands draped over the railing of the navy ship. Slowly, hugging the hull of the ship, Chapel moves down its port side, out of earshot for Mavis's conversation. He slides along until he is treading water under a gun port, then motions for Pet to come.On the deck of the Lady, Mavis crosses his arms and simply stares down the rigid Officer. The soldiers each stare down a crew member for a few moments before the Officer continues speaking. “The king has issued a proclamation of war against the Coldor Cleave, in retaliation for the assassination of our beloved King, Bornidin the Young. I’m sure you are aware, because I know you wouldn’t willingly flout your duty to the Kingdom, isn’t that so?”Mavis remains a statue, his face as inscrutable as the deep. The other soldiers blanch, but the Officer still stares into Mavis’ hard eyes. “If you agree that there was some type of… misunderstanding, and respond accordingly, we are prepared to grant you leave of this vessel in the war against the Coldor Cleave.”Mavis seems to grow a subtle shade of red and responds intensely. “And if we should not agree?”“Well then,” the officer steps closer, and continues in a low threatening tone, “in that case Mister — I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name, brave merchant?”“Mavis.”“Well then, Mister Mavis, if such an egregious act was perpetrated willingly, the participants would all be quartered and hanged from their own yard arms.”On the other side of the navy ship, Chapel whispers softly and Petsune turns his ear toward him. “We’re going to clip her wings.”Petsune turns his head and looks at Chapel, dramatically mouthing words with little sound. “What in the depths does that even mean?” Chapel whispers a response and Petsune points his ear again. “We’re going to cut all the sail ties and rigging, so they can’t move.”Chapel reaches up and grips the gun port. He pulls himself up so that his arms are inside, and then a moment later, so is the rest of him. Petsune waits a moment but when Chapel doesn't immediately return, he begins to worry. Pet whispers a raspy, desperate plea. “Captain? … Captain? … Chapel!”Chapel’s head suddenly pops out from the port hole. “Shhh! Saints, Pet. Haven’t you ever snuck aboard a navy ship before?”Petsune answers as Chapel extends a hand down to help him into the ship. “No! Have you?”“I would’ve thought it was obvious. ‘Course I have.”As Chapel pulls Pet into the navy ship’s orlop, Mavis continues his friendly chat with the officer. He doesn’t balk at the threatening manner, instead looking down into the officer’s sharp face. “I didn’t catch your name either, mister…”The officer’s eyes burn as he bores holes into Mavis with his glare. The Officer responds in a clipped manner, “Officer Wittkinson.”This time Mavis takes a subtle step forward, and the two soldiers behind the Officer take equally subtle shifts backward. Mavis speaks in a voice like the Cold Sea. “If this conscription is as the North War was, then the crew of all conscripted vessels will bear a naval rank equal to their standing prior to the war. Which means, I outrank you aboard this ship Officer Wittkinson.” The Officer blooms a brilliant purple color and his upper lip twitches slightly. “Am I to understand you have chosen to do your basic duty as citizens of Dintash then, rather than enjoy some sun on your yard arm?”The power struggle is almost visible between the two. Mavis speaks in a louder voice that is clearly not meant for the Officer. “General Tarlatan: would you kindly remove our red colors and hoist the blue mainsails.”The Officer stands silently for a few moments, likely contemplating Mavis’s usage of the ‘General’ title. When next he speaks, he appears to have gained some composure. “That is well and good, but due to the previous misunderstanding, two of my soldiers will remain aboard this vessel until we reach the Royal Mass, and two of your crew will remain on my ship — to ensure no more misunderstandings occur.” Wittkinson ascends the gangway, not bothering to turn and look as he speaks. “You may send whichever two of your rabble over to us, then we will set sail for Dintish Mass immediately.”At the same time as the officer crosses the gangway back to his ship, Petsune attempts to sneak below decks. He tries to creep through the orlop, staying on Chapel’s tail and in the shadows. Petsune’s heart seems to be attempting to run out of his chest. “Where are we going?” He asks.Chapel doesn’t turn around, opting instead for an unhelpful finger pointed up. They sneak through the underbelly of the ship, all the way back to the stern. There is some type of holding cell, likely for mutinous crew members. Petsune finds it speaks volumes that the Lady doesn’t even have one. Just outside the cell, within tantalizing view of the cell, is a porthole. Chapel points and Petsune comments exasperatedly. “Didn’t we just come from out there?”Chapel turns with a half-smile. “Your job is to find the tiller line and cut it.”“The what?”“The rope that runs from the ship wheel to the rudder. It’ll be running through pulleys.”“How will I know if I find the right thing?”“Just cut any rope you find.”Chapel places a finger in front of his lips, then winks his infuriating wink.Back on the decks of the Lady, Mavis is worried and unsure of what to do. Chapel’s insane plan didn't work last time at Folders Fill, at least not how he thought, and it likely wouldn’t now either. Almost at the same time as Mavis thinks this, he sees the lithe form of the Captain crawl out of a porthole in the stern of the navy vessel. Chapel climbs out the porthole and up the back of the ship. When Pet sticks his head out and peers up, Chapel is already halfway up. Mavis begins waving his arms wildly, attempting to get Chapel’s attention, to tell him the plan has changed. Chapel sees this and gives a friendly wave back, completely missing the signal.Inside the navy ship, Petsune quietly leaves the room with the cell and looks for anything that could be a tiller rope. Suddenly he hears a shout from behind him. “Hey! What’re you doing down here?”Petsune goes wide eyed. “Uhhh… looking for the tiller line?”The man grabs hold of Petsune and unceremoniously deposits him into the cell, confiscating the knife.Above, Mavis watches as Chapel descends the side of the ship, evidently having understood the signal. Mavis breathes a sigh of relief and then walks up to the quarter deck. Inside the navy ship, the soldier locks the cell door on Petsune. As the key turns and the lock clicks Chapel's legs enter through the porthole and the man backs away in horror. Chapel slides back inside the hold, seeing Petsune first. “Pet, what are you doing? Did you —” Chapel sees the guard step back into view, “— Ohh. Hello.”“You — time to join your friend, there.” The soldier gestures toward the cell door as he draws a flintlock pistol and points it at Chapel’s chest. The door locks again and this time Petsune and Chapel are both inside the cell. The soldier leaves the room to go and report to the Officer what he has managed to do all on his own. Chapel and Petsune can hear the shouts from two decks up as the Officer yells. “You did what? I sent for them; you drowned imbecile! Get them out and put them to work!” Chapel and Petsune exchange looks and Chapel merely says, “See, this plan works every time.”(Previous Chapter Twenty-One) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Second Interlude) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Twenty) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-Two)20th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year… like a Saintstone coin hurled into the sea are words of wisdom to them that will not hear…From ‘Wisdom of Saint Delód’ of the Church of the Deep, Written by Saint Delód in the Unreckoned YearsAfter the midday meal, Petsune cleans up with Shushilah. While they are finishing up, the Big Man pokes his head into the cooking area. “You two up for a game of Runny then?” Shushilah and Pet both agree. When they all three sit at the crate along with The General, Petsune produces the prattlebeak feather from under his belt. He hands it to The Big Man. “I believe this clears all my debts?”Benafield laughs loudly. “Hah! Aye, it does indeed, little Pet. Where did you get it?”“Sprig’s bird left a few behind in the captain's quarters.”“Aye, you had it easy then. Cheese will be climbing through the rigging ‘till she finds one. Hah!” He slaps his knee and roars joyously.Before they roll the first round of Runny, Sprig shouts from somewhere above them. When they look up, Sprig is clambering out from the crow’s nest shouting, “Shallowback!”. He climbs down so rapidly, Petsune isn’t sure he even touched the rigging. “That boy sure packs a light kit, don’t he?” Says Benafield.Sprig is vigorously pointing off the starboard side, still shouting alternating cries of “Shallowback!” and “Pickett!” Sprig excitedly busts into the captain’s quarters, half raving. Chapel doesn’t even startle, but merely looks up. “Sprig, is this going to become a regular thing with you? Because if it is, I’ll prop the doors open. Also, your bird is in here again.”“Captain, Captain! It’s a shallowback, an’ he’s right at the surface! Can we drop anchor, just for a bit? Please!”Chapel rolls his eyes in amusement, then gets up from his chair. “Alright, fine. But we don’t have long, Sprig. We need to make good time to the Royal Mass.”“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”Sprig runs out of the captain's quarters, yelling out Pickett’s name. Pickett is already at the railing looking out at the form of the shallowback. Petsune and Shushilah wander over to where Pickett is standing, Sprig quickly joining them. Sprig is practically bouncing. “You got it? You got the thing?”Pickett nods once and appears unaffected by Sprig’s excitement. Pickett hands a strange object to Sprig, and then the two of them climb over the railing. Petsune asks Shushilah, “Why is Sprig so excited?”“You saw the thing Pickett had? Is a mask he made. Very clever, truly. Is a sort of breathing trunk, like the shallowback has, fixed to a, uh, a window - a lens, that’s it. Is the eye lens of a fisher shark, yes?”“Ahh, I see.”“Yes, the shallowback, it has a big flat back, like a sandbar. A lot of things grow and live on this. But is only when the shallowback grazes at the surface that you can stand on it’s back. Yes?”“What’s on the back of shallowback whales?”“Oh, there is many, many things: small pebbleclaw crabs, muckfins, cow nose gillfish, maybe some blunderkits. An’ there are the plants too: fickle willow, barrel plant, wig moss, an’ the thing Sprig wants most — the green king-shell crab. Is a rare thing, though. He’s not finding one so far.”“Why does he want one so bad?”“Oh, I don’t know. I think is for making a flute? The shell, I mean.”Petsune and Shushilah watch, bemused, as Sprig and Pickett swim from the roots of the ship, over to the shallowback. Petsune can see the two breathing trunks bobbing at the surface, but he isn’t sure which direction the body of the whale is. Suddenly, Sprig and Pickett are standing in the sea. Petsune realizes that what he thought was a shadow is really the immense back of the whale. It is well over 4 towers long and is very wide. Sprig pulls on the mask that Pickett made, and then he submerges himself in the water. Petsune watches as he occasionally surfaces and hands something to Pickett, who stores it in a canvas bag. The tip of Sprig’s breathing trunk mills about up and down the length of the shallowback as Petsune watches. Chapel appears beside him as Shushilah wanders off.The Captain calls out over the water to Pickett who raises a hand in recognition that their time is up. Chapel and Petsune stare down over the railing, watching the tops of the tower vine sway just beneath the surface of the water. Chapel gestures down to the submerged forests as they swirl and twist. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”“It is.” Petsune answers.He is entranced by the gentle shifting of the vines and weeds. Mavis breaks his reverie with a call to Chapel. “Captain, ‘fraid we’ve got some snag weed caught on the anchor. She won’t come up.”Chapel sighs. “This is what we get for indulging our tiny captain. Get The Big Man and Bor and we’ll see if we can muscle it up.”“Aye, aye, Captain.”Petsune watches Pickett and Sprig swim back to the Lady and climb aboard, Sprig still sporting the mask that Pickett made.Mavis is heading to the foredeck to recruit Bor for the job of hauling up the anchor, when he spots sails on the horizon. It seems they appeared from nowhere and are fast approaching. Petsune is about to ask Chapel about Sprig’s mask, when he turns to find him gone. He looks around, seeing nothing, then he hears the Captain from the rigging above him. “Mavis, get that anchor up, we’ve got blue sails off the port side.”Benafield, Bor, and Mavis each heave on the winch, but it doesn’t budge. Petsune feels a knot of nerves begin to constrict around his chest. Mavis shouts to Chapel. “Is it a two or three master?”Chapel maintains his vigil on the rigging above Pet, shimmering eyeglass held steady. “Can’t see yet, but she’s coming straight at us.”The entire crew is aware of the ship now, anxiously awaiting orders. Moments pass as Mavis and the others struggle against the winch. Chapel calls out from the rigging, “she’s a two master.”Petsune approaches Shushilah. “That’s good right? It’s not a big war galleon - a King’s Fist.”“Mmm… Is no good, no. The two masters, they are faster in the water, yes? Harder to outrun.”The knot of anxiety tightens in Petsune’s chest. The ship has grown closer to where blue sails can be perceived by the naked eye. Chapel climbs down from the rigging and hurries over to the winch where Mavis, Bor, and Benafield struggle. He gives a good effort alongside them, but still the anchor won’t come up. Suddenly, Chapel is running down to the main deck to where Pickett and Sprig stand. He speaks quickly. “Sprig, may I borrow your mask?”“Sure, Cap. Jus’ don’t bust it.”Chapel takes the mask and hurries over to Petsune with another request. “Pet, is that Sanctum dagger sharp?”“It’s Saintstone, so very. Why?”“May I borrow it?”“I suppose, so long as it isn’t your normal kind of borrowing.”Chapel winks, dons the strange mask, then takes the proffered dagger.Without another word, the Captain runs at the railing of the ship and dives over the side. There is a soft splash as he lands in the sea, and Pet is left wide-eyed. Mavis stops pushing on the anchor winch but tells Bor and the Big Man to keep at it. He gives everyone a position to take so that sails can be loosed immediately, once Chapel frees the anchor from the snag weed. The wind seems to be favoring the navy vessel as it grows steadily closer. It is close enough that Petsune can just begin to make out a few scrambling crew members on the decks. Meanwhile, Chapel disentangles himself from the tower vine he landed in and begins swimming under the boat. The breathing tube on Pickett’s mask doesn’t work when this deep, but he can see perfectly. If he wasn’t in such a pinch, he would stop to marvel at the beautiful underwater forests. He makes a mental note to borrow Pickett’s mask again when they aren’t in the sights of the navy.The Captain swims over to the thick boat rope that leads down into the luscious green forest. He pulls himself along the rope toward the anchor but fears he won’t be able to free it. The vines and snag weed are thick, and he can’t even see the anchor yet. Once into the dense verdant forest, Chapel loses all sense of direction. His hand on the taut rope is the only thing that keeps him oriented. Once he locates the anchor, he can see that it is enveloped in a large knot of snag weed and tower vine. He swims back up to the surface for some much-needed air. When Chapel breaks the surface, Petsune calls down to him. “Did you free the anchor?”“No, I don’t think I’ll be able to quickly. Tell Mavis we’re doing a cut an’ run.” Chapel sucks in a lung full of air and dives back down.Petsune can see the distorted form of the Captain as he kicks his way down to the anchor. Pet runs up to the quarter deck where Mavis is, hurriedly relaying the Captain’s message. “He said we’re doing a ‘cut and run’?”Mavis groans in frustration, “Must we lose another anchor? This is the Lady’s third, and they aren’t cheap.”While Mavis yearns for a more frugal Captain, Bor and Benafield find the resistance to the winch has been removed. They both begin rotating it and reeling in the anchor. Petsune glances out to the port side horizon and finds the ship has grown considerably closer. Harlan appears from somewhere in the rigging and speaks to Mavis in a cool voice. “The gunports are facing directly at the ship, and it has come within range.”Mavis seems to consider for a brief moment before answering. “No, we’ll not dig a deeper hole. Not yet.”Chapel’s voice calls from over the side of the boat. “Stop the anchor winch, please. Before you break my arm.”The Big Man locks the winch and looks over the railing alongside Pet. The Captain is hanging on the rope where the anchor ought to be, dripping wet and smiling broadly. He speaks again, “And here I thought keelhauling was a punishment,” Chapel laughs, “that was fun.”“Glad you’re enjoying yourself Captain,” Mavis quips sarcastically, “meanwhile, we’ve got company that we’ll need to entertain. Any thoughts?”“Well, First Mate Mavis, there’s nothing for it. We’ll just have to be gracious hosts, I think. Say… remember what we did at Folders Fill?”“Oh no…” Mavis groans, “the crew still calls me Captain Mavis. Must we do this again?”“It worked so well last time.”“Did it really? I must be rememberin’ a different time at Folders Fill.”“I’ll take Pet with me this time.”“That’s hardly any consolation, Captain — no offense intended, Pet.”Petsune blinks a few times and raises an eyebrow. “Um. Perhaps you could fill me in — I’m a bit lost.”Chapel walks over to Petsune and lays a soaking wet arm across his shoulders. “Don’t worry, Pet, I’ll explain on the way.”“On the way? What in the depths is —”As Petsune is trying to figure out what is happening, Chapel jumps back off the ship, tugging him along for the ride. The two of them splash into the sea and Mavis grumbles something unkind about repeating the past. The blue sails of the navy ship draw close to the Painful Lady with clear intentions to board.(Previous Chapter Twenty) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-Two) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

I watch the hole in the man’s forehead be healed by a magic bullet. His brain matter and blood leap off the asphalt and crowd into the crimson gash above his eyes. The bullet departs through the unmarred back of his skull. The man is left unharmed and crouching over a shattered phone, a hammer held aloft in his hand, rage colored in his cheeks. The ruined phone begins to assemble itself on the driveway from chunks of sharp and shiny glass. Bent metal straightening out into sleek and profitable designs, glass knitting together to create a black reflection. The spidering cracks retreat, a web being unspun, creeping under the flat face of a hammer. With each bash of the ball peen, pieces roll closer, attaching themselves into a flawless, recognizable whole. After five strikes, the hammer hovers over a pristine phone. The tool lowers and the phone jumps up into the man’s waiting hand. I see him bring it’s front-facing camera close, one black eye gazing back into his own two blue eyes. The reflection of the phone sits on their wet surface and I stare, watching, seeing.The phone slips into the man's pocket as he steps backward away from the scene. In the garage, the busted backup camera on the car begins to twitch. When the man’s hammer makes contact with it, it ceases to move, now whole and complete. The door to the kitchen bounces toward his arm and he catches it blindly. He storms into a scene of chaos. His wife is frozen, bent slightly over, face the color of raw meat. The fifteen year old daughter stands with a face of horror, tears being heaved up from off her cheeks to fill already brimming eyes. The refrigerator is damaged; on the counter, a smashed tablet lays amid the wreckage of its screen; on the island, a laptop is strewn mutilated atop a splay of printed photographs; the ruined shells of two smartphones sit glittering on the living room coffee table; and the TV has several impacts pocked across the display like bullet holes. The man continues to back up, bits of plastic skitter toward the fridge. All the shiny pieces fly around, swirling to the hammer as it moves toward the ruined smart display, glitter and plastic rushing in to hide under the blunt head. Each blow of the hammer sucks in more pieces, fits them together until the refrigerator screen displays the time.The man backs up swiftly to the smashed smart tablet laying by the toaster. Each tap of the hammer vacuums the shards together to restore the screen. He turns to the kitchen island, his hammer fixes the ruined laptop. His wife stands motionless, bent, coffee forgotten on the counter, eyes seeing nothing, one cheek an angry red. The man steps back into the living room, things shifting toward him. Two mangled smartphones gravitate to the hammer, sliding across the coffee table, pulled in by the blunt blackhole. The daughter winces with every blow, her eyes tracking the wave of restoration. The man erases each pockmark on the TV with a touch from his magic tool. I watch, fascinated.One of the kitchen drawers is open. It shakes slightly, calling the hammer home. The wife stands bent down and away from her husband as he steps back across carpet to tile, placing the tool into the drawer. He whips around, his wife staggers up to meet his open hand with her face. She pushes the hand away with her pale cheek, sending it speeding back into a full draw, coiled snake-like by the man’s shoulder, only to drop to his side. The red has been leached from her cheeks by his vampire hand, leaving it thin and colorless. The daughter is still, sucking tears up into her eyes, each one tracing the snail trails on her face. The three of them stand in the kitchen, unmoving. The splay of photographs on the island begin to slide into each other, hovering about, piling into a stack. They rise up into the man's hand, angelic, ascending as he begins to yell.Spit flies from unseen places, through the air to collect in his mouth, motes of moisture making a home in his maw as he points, yells, gesticulates, shouts, his open mouth pulling more and more spittle from the air while his wife rises further and further out of herself until she speaks back. Subtle, unobtrusive gestures move her hands, her mouth moves minimally. The daughter is motionless, in shock. The man’s tirade ends. He looks at the photos in his hand. He stares at the bottom photo of the stack, the rest held away in his other hand. Written in silver marker across each photo is a different shiny word. The man stares at the picture from the bottom of the stack, the word “EYE” staring back at him. It is a picture I took from his car's backup camera of him kissing a woman. It is not the woman standing next to him. It is not his wife.Wife and daughter step subtly closer to view the images with bulging eyes. The man slides down the next image from the front of the stack. It is from a store security camera, the word “BLACK” written in silver across the wife at a glass countertop.She is buying a gun.When she sees the picture, her eyes cease to bulge, her face loosening into concern.The man flips to the next photo. This one is from a phone camera, his fifteen year old daughter’s phone, the word “ONE” scrawled over it, reflecting the light. It is his daughter, unaware her phone is taking her picture, unaware I am watching with my one black eye. Beside her is half of a disinterested boyfriend whom the man has never heard about. Behind her pale blank face is a partially cutoff sign reading “nned Parenthood”. The man looks over at his daughter, her face a spectral mirror of the one in the photo, pale and empty. He looks back to the image, then flips the next one forward.A glossy print pulled from the desktop webcam at his office, the word “MY” winking silver up at him. It is the man at his desk, a woman standing behind his chair, seductively draped over his shoulders, massaging them. The man quickly flips the next photo down, anger and embarrassment fighting for space in his expression. The penultimate photo features the word “WITH” in silver overtop and the man's wife in color below. The image came from a phone's rear-facing camera, showing her seated lower half. Sitting on her thighs is a pamphlet detailing flight times and destinations.The man flips the final image down and reads the graphite-colored words “I SPY”. It is a still image screen-grabbed from the front-facing camera of a tablet. It is him and his wife connected physically, cemented together by the frozen frame of a camera, him behind the couch and her sitting on it, immortalizing the moment his fist first made contact with her soft face, melting a crater in her skin and confidence, leaving behind one black eye and a broken spirit.It was the first time.She never saw it coming.They all three stare at the photo for an eternity.Out of the trashcan flies a manilla paper ball. It arcs smoothly through the air and into the man's extended hand. His fingers begin to massage it open. It uncrumples into a large envelope. The man slides the stack of glossy photos up into the envelope. The daughter scowls. The wife grabs her mug and begins spitting coffee into it. I pause the video and smile. It is even more fun to watch in reverse. I hit play and watch it forwards this time, from the beginning. I never expected things to go so well with that family. It was a high bar to beat. I minimize the video, opening the window of my live feeds. I am watching a woman, waiting for her hidden life to surface, to pull screenshots of her true self. I will see it with my one black eye, the eye that is always open, always on. I wait to capture it on the camera that is always filming, always shooting. So small, that one black eye, yet so vast is its gaze. I watch the woman through her laptop camera and I smile. She is forgetting the most important rule of camera safety: Treat every camera as if it’s loaded.Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this piece. It was a fun challenge that I have been wanting to tackle for a few weeks and this was the perfect opportunity. There are plenty of other Small and Scary/Big and Beastly stories to read, right here. Go check them out and show some love to Erica Drayton and Garen Marie. Also I felt very honored and cool to have designed the logo for this event and seeing it pop up everywhere was sort surreal. Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Nineteen) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-One)20th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned YearMarry, aye yay, and marry, aye nowTook me a wife and made me a vowMerry, I get, and Mary I foundNow love me my life when you are aroundMarry, aye mend, and marry, aye canBetter my being by my being your manMerry, I get, and Mary I knowGuild me in smiles and wreath me in bowsMarry, aye might, and marry, aye whenLonging my heart for my life to spendMerry, I get, and Mary, I willLabor be love but be my heart not stillMarry, aye live, and marry, aye seeIf there were a many, with Mary I’d beMerry, I get, and Mary, my heartMiss you my Mary, when we are apartFrom ‘Miss You My Mary’, Shanty Composed by Benafield of Broadfell in the 105th Reckoned YearChapel and Mavis are speaking on the quarterdeck when Petsune finds them. Mavis is in the middle of speaking. “It’s definitely made us lighter in the water, but now we’ve nothing to sell if we get in a pinch.”Chapel looks thoughtful. “Well, we can cross that bridge when we get to it. Oh, and I wanted to ask you something: you did some carpentry work before you joined me, right?”“Aye, but that was a lifetime ago. I hardly remember anything. Why?”“Ah, no reason… Nothing I can’t do myself.”The Captain turns and suddenly sees Petsune. “Oh, hello, Pet. I didn’t see you standing there. What’s up?”“I just wanted to say, the decking is awfully slick there by the starboard railing. I saw Shushilah fall earlier, and I nearly did myself.”Mavis strokes his thick beard. “Hmm. That’s no good.”Chapel snaps a finger and seems to formulate an idea. “Why don’t you go dig up The General and work on cleaning it? Wipe it down good and make sure it isn’t slippery. My guess is someone accidentally spilled some red whale oil when we offloaded the cargo at Misty Shoals.”Petsune is a bit flustered at having been set a big task alongside Tarlatan. “Oh, um, yes sir.” He can’t help but feel a strange tension whenever he’s with The General, and he isn’t sure what it is. It feels as though Tarlatan is pretending to be fine so that Petsune won’t feel bad, or maybe so he won’t bring it up. Pet spies him speaking with Bor by the foredeck and says a quick prayer to the Saints that they would give him wisdom. He approaches Tarlatan warily. “Hello, General Tar. The Captain has given you and me a job, to scrub the decking over there. It’s rather slippery for some reason.”“Aha, yes of course. Can do, can do. Say, Bor, might we trouble you for a bucket and a rag or two. Thank you.”Once the General has the bucket, the two of them walk over to the portside railing. They set to scrubbing and Petsune is immediately reminded of some undeserved punishments he was doled out during his time with the Sanctum. He was once set to scrub the entire sanctuary after arguing with one of the church elders over a theological matter.As the two of them work, they quickly begin to realize that a wet rag has little effect on an oil spill. The General grumbles. “This isn’t doing a drowning thing… and who christened the deck here anyway?”This reminds Petsune of an old trick Father Haltur used to clean the anointing oil off of the Window to the Deep. He would use rock wart to soak up the oil and then snag weed to polish the wood. Petsune excuses himself for a moment and walks back over to Bor. “Excuse me, Bor.”“Hm.”“Uh, do you have any rock wart, or snag weed?”“You’re joking, right?”“Um, no. It’s good for oil spills, so I thought—”“Listen, Pet, I like you. But, I’m very busy. You want rock wart? It covers the outside of any waterbound ship’s hull. You want snag weed, check the oars and rudders. They call it snag weed for a reason.”Pet is left blinking while Bor moves on to begin cooking the midday meal.Petsune walks back over to The General, who is still on his hands and knees, scrubbing. Petsune leans over the railing to look down at the hull of the ship. Sure enough, there are rock warts growing all over it, down close to the water. As the sea splashes up onto the wart, it opens its hard rock-like exterior to expose the soft mossy inside which soaks up water. Petsune slips then and lands on the bottoms of Tarlatan’s boots. The General is startled. “Whoa there, boy. You’re cleaning the deck, not my boots. Say, what were you doing there?”“Sorry, General. I was looking for rock wart. I think it will help with the oil spill. And snag weed too.”“Ah yes, the old rock wart. A wonderful little thing, isn’t it? For oil, you say? Never thought of that… brilliant, dear boy. Brilliant! You just climb on down there and fetch us some, hmm? Go on.”Before he can even catch everything The General said, Petsune is being pushed down through the railing. Around the outside of the hull is a narrow platform for harpooners to stand on when whaling. Petsune carefully drops down to the platform and nearly slips. There is a patch of rock wart growing just below the platform he is on, so he lays on his stomach and reaches down to grab some.Lying down, Petsune is looking into the sea and he realizes how clear it is away from a Mass. He can see far below the ship. Trailing along, occassionally eating at the growths on the hull, are several large stout-nosed gipps and a few of the smaller snub-nosed gipps. Looking far below the ship, about a tower deep, there is a school of fodderfin swimming. Petsune finds himself staring at the beauty of it all until The General yells down, “C’mon, Pet! That oil won’t clean itself!”Petsune pries off a few barnacles of wart and then stands on the platform to give the moss to The General. “Well done, well done. Now for the snag weed. Check this root here above your head — yes that one —check the end of it. Down in the water. You’ll have to climb across. Just jump up and grab it, you’re young, then shimmy on down to the end, hmm?”A bit warily, Petsune grabs hold of the root and clings to it with his arms and legs. Without looking down at the water, he begins to slide himself down the length of the root, to the ocean at its end. All of the roots are connected by a narrow buoyant wood. Pet makes it down to the narrow beam that connects the roots, and he can see some snag weed on the root next to his, but not the one he is on. Cursing the Sea for his luck, Petsune looks to the next root, about eight feet away, and thinks he can walk across the connecting beam if he is quick enough. He waits for a still moment in the Lady’s ceaseless rocking, then let’s go of his root. He takes a step and slips immediately down into the water with a splash. When Petsune surfaces, he can hear the General calling to him, “You alright there? Haven’t broken anything, I hope? Get the snag weed while you’re down. Hah!”Sprig and the Big Man both appear at the railing next to The General and they begin laughing and calling over other crew members. Petsune meanwhile is uneasy in deep water and is scrambling to find purchase on the root to pull himself up. He does find some snag weed and drapes it around his neck before pulling himself up onto the support beam between the roots. He nearly slips off again which sends the crew into another fit of laughter. Petsune graces them with a choice hand gesture favored by the Sanctum. Suddenly, it seems the entire crew is there; Sprig, the Big Man, The General, Cheese, Mavis and Chapel are all at the railing now and most are laughing. The General calls out, “C’mon now! Climb up if you can!” Petsune mutters to himself as he hugs the root and shimmies up to where it reaches the railing. Exhausted, he flops over the railing onto the deck in a wet heap.Chapel moves to stand over him and block the Saint’s sun. “Pet? You’re all wet.”“I… ha… hadn’t noticed…” Petsune gasps.“What were you doing down there? Sprig didn’t push you overboard, did he?”Petsune is helped to his feet by Benafield and Cheese, both of whom are laughing still. Sprig comes over and attempts to help by removing the snag weed from Petsune’s neck and throwing it over the side. Petsune just watches it go and says through gasps, “I was… ha… getting… snag weed…”Sprig just looks at him. “Snag weed? Oh, I’ve a bunch of that.”Cheese looks at Sprig with a quizzical expression. “Sprig, why the depths d’ya have a stash of snag weed?”“‘Cause it’s sticky. It’s good for tricks an’ pranks.” Sprig has an evil smile on his little face, and he runs off to get some snag weed for Petsune.Chapel stares down at the sopping form of Petsune. “Why exactly do you need snag weed and rock wart, Pet?”Petsune is still mostly out of breath. “Good… for… oil spills. Ha… wart first… then…. Snag…”The General grabs the rock wart and begins rubbing it on a slick spot. The hard exterior opens and it begins absorbing the oil. Next, The General polishes the spot with the sticky snag weed and it shines like new, without being slick at all. Mavis touches the spot and says, “Well drown me for a milly… where’d you learn that, priest?”“The anointing oil in the Church of the Deep… it would sometimes spill… on the… the thing…”Chapel puts an arm around Petsune and smiles. “Well, you are a rather strange priest. If you really want to go overboard, just ask next time.”The Captain winks and leaves, along with the rest of the crew.Petsune kneels next to The General and begins using the rock wart and snag weed. Tarlatan says, “Don’t you want to dry out a bit, hmm?”“I’m alright. Thank you. These are Deepblood robes: I think you'll find they dry rather quickly.”The two of them return to scrubbing. Petsune begins to feel that unspoken tension between them. General Tarlatan doesn’t seem to be himself, instead being overly chatty. Petsune and the General scrub away with the patches of rock wart, then polish the spots with the snag weed. The General seems to try to fill the silence. “I’m a military man, myself. We used to have our own little tricks like this; blisker leaf to get out gun grease, fickle willow in the boots for comfort, wig moss for blood stains, bell beetle if you’re tired.”“Oh?” Petsune says politely.“Ah, say. Do you know why they call it wig moss? Hmm? Well, I’ll tell you. It’s a name coined by the navy. See, wig moss grows incredibly fast on wet surfaces, as you well know. And the boys in the navy would wet a man’s face and head when he slept and put the moss seed on him, then quick as a runnykit, he’d have a beard and full head of hair. Baha! Yes! It’s true. Happened to myself once. You know navy boys, always harassing their generals…”Petsune is half listening and giving affirmative sounds when appropriate. But more than this, he is trying to think how best to broach the subject that The General seems to be so energetically avoiding.Cheese sneaks up beside Pet and whispers to him. “Could out-talk a prattlebeak, he could.”Before Petsune can even turn to reply, she vanishes, climbing up the rigging. The General is still going. “Do you know, Pet, I was in the North War? Yes, indeed. That was a time of guts and mettle, no room for millies then. No, sir. I was in charge of a hundred men on one ship, leading the charge against those Coldor dogs when the wind just vanished — gone. Not a spit of wind, I tell you, not even a lick. It was like those Coldor’s had power over the weather —““I’m actually Coldor…”Petsune can’t help defending his people, and he kicks himself mentally for making things tense. The General goes quiet. “Oh. Oh, I’m sorry, Pet… I feel I have truly fit my boot into my mouth.”“It’s alright, I understand,” Petsune says, thinking quickly, “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said or done things I wish I could take back.”Petsune sits on his heels and takes a moment to look at Tarlatan. “If you feel, because of this or anything else, that you have disappointed me or let me down in some way: I assure you, that isn’t the case.”The General stops scrubbing for the briefest of moments but does not look up. “Thank you, Pet. I feel you have seen through me… You remind me of the Captain… He has a way with people, you know? Thinks the best of them…”Petsune smiles and returns to scrubbing at the deck. They finish cleaning off the deck after all three suns have risen. Bor has been feverishly cooking up a storm the entire time, and he is just about ready to serve. The General looks to the newly cleaned deck and says approvingly to Petsune, “Not bad. Not bad at all.” Bor comes out of the steamy kitchen area, bringing sensational smells that make Petsune’s mouth water. The small meal bell is rung, and the crew start appearing. Cheese shows up next to Pet, nudging a plate into his hands. “Got ears still? General didn’t talk ‘em off?” Petsune simply smiles.Petsune gets to the front of the line and Bor fills his plate with delicious steaming food. There’s a pile of small potatoes seasoned with something green, a sizable cut of beef with sautéed onions on top, and a slice of grapple delight with cubed padada on the side. Petsune has never eaten this good in his life and he finds himself savoring every bite. He finishes his plate and is perfectly satisfied rather than overstuffed. Petsune approaches Bor with a look of awe on his face and says, “Bor, that was incredible. Truly, this is the best I have ever eaten, even my time in the Sanctum pales in comparison.” Bor looks the slightest bit satisfied, the ghost of a smirk hiding under his gruff demeanor.(Previous Chapter Nineteen) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty-One) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Eighteen) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty)18th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year3But before the beginning, there was light, and there was a cold wind called Nüm. 4The cold wind blew and formed the three Saints; Delód, Wōde, and Ründ. But first among them was Delód. 5The Saints grew tired of the endless light, and so they spake, creating darkness and separating it from light. 6But when the cold wind blew through the darkness, it formed a fourth Saint called, Vésh. 7And so it was that the three Saints came to regret their first creation and so sought to create something good. 8Delód, foremost of the Saints, spake thus:“We regret what our words hath wrought. Let us now make a new thing, one which will be good.”9And so they created Yath, and it was empty, lacking all life, and void. 10The Saints were proud, but they were not yet filled with joy. 11They worked tirelessly, filling Yath with life. 12In their toil, the sweat of the Saints rendered the oceans salty. 13They spake their words and formed the Deepfoot, ancient of beasts, that they might traverse the ground and press it flat. 14Then the Saints spake again, filling Yath with all manner of living things, 15but none of their creations brought them joy. 16Delód spake thus once more;“Let us now make a new thing, one in our own image, that they may bring us joy.”From “Book of Creation”, Chapter 1 verses 3-16, Church of the Deep, Written by Saint Delód in the Unreckoned YearsThe King’s Fist rocks gently a few hundred towers off of the Mass. It is positioned sideways, with 50 small black holes pointed toward the Mass, and 50 pointed away. Mavis holds the Captain’s expensive eyeglass and watches the hull of the galleon with its dozens of bobbing dark eyes. The rest of the blue sail vessels are spaced evenly around the port of the Mass. He speaks while keeping one eye trained on the King’s Fist. “She’s got her gunports open, Chapel.”“I see them…”“Seems they want a dance. Is the Lady willing?”“Indeed. Let’s loose the sheets and make a dash for it, the wind is as good as we’ll get.”Mavis carefully collapses the ornate eyeglass and shouts out orders in the powerful voice of a lifelong First Mate. “Hands make sail! Keep ‘em taut!”Chapel laughs at the sudden oomph of a strong gust in their sails. “Hah! Well, let’s see if we can’t slip between these dancers and leave the party early.”Mavis yells out. “Aye, aye, Captain. Hold the Lady steady, crew, else we be forced to court with one of these fine young gents!”Petsune stands at the helm watching the ships in the distance and listening to the orders being called out. His only job is to loosen or tighten the topsail ropes to give an extra boost in speed. He can’t help but feel that this is more like what he pictured of ship life: orders being barked out and sails being manipulated by deft and calloused hands. As they move noticeably away from the port, the closest King’s Hand vessel appears to swing about to pursue. Mavis shouts to Chapel at the shipwheel. “Don’t think we’ll be sneaking out of this ballroom, Captain. King’s Hand, starboard bow. She’s taken notice.”“I see her. Well, let’s take her for a spin then.”Petsune watches Chapel as he pulls a wooden dowel rod out of the ship wheel, and he places it into the inner circle. Suddenly, the inner portion of the ship wheel that was not spinning begins to move slightly alongside it, pinned by the rod.As they approach the line of navy ships, the King’s Hand that marked their movement begins to aim to intercept them. Petsune isn’t sure if their intentions are hostile yet, or if they are simply trying to stop them from leaving. Once they realize that the Lady plans on deserting, all depths will break loose. While Petsune is thinking this, there is the distant boom of a cannon which lands loudly in the water next to the ship. Chapel calls backward for Petsune to loose the topsail, and he does. The Lady picks up speed and is now being pursued by the King’s Hand. There are two stern breaker guns mounted in the bow of the King’s Hand, and as Petsune stares backward at the encroaching ship, he can see two cannons being pushed out of the gun ports. Petsune turns and shouts to Chapel. “They have forward facing guns, they’re about to shoot!”Mavis calls out. “Steady as she goes!” and Pet watches the Captain. There is a moment of tense silence until Chapel calls out, “Hold fast!” He grabs a hold of the ship wheel and turns, moving the inner wheel rapidly along with it. Instead of turning off sideways, the Lady moves laterally without pointing her bow that direction. Petsune stumbles sideways at the same time as cannon fire explodes behind them. Two splashes bloom from the surface of the sea, a mere ship's length off the starboard side. Chapel laughs like a madman as the distance lengthens between the stern and the King’s Hand. The chase seems to end as quickly as it started, with the navy deeming them not worth pursuing. Petsune has found his feet again and approaches Chapel. “Saints, Chapel! What in the depths was that?”Chapel laughs. “Yeah, I bet they’re scratching their heads still.” Chapel waves jokingly at the quickly diminishing ship. “The Lady is fitted with a bow rudder that can be used for emergency maneuvers. It’ll drop your speed but it’s good for getting out of a tight spot.”Petsune stares at the ship wheel and then at Chapel. “Any other secrets this ship has?”“Oh, I’m sure, but I don’t know them. Yet.” He winks.“So, how does it work? How do you use the bow rudder?”You just pull this peg out of the shipwheel and push it into any of these slots. This smaller wheel won’t move unless it’s linked to the main ship wheel with the peg. That links the two rudders, meaning the bow of the ship turns the same direction as the stern.”Petsune contemplates the bizarre concept. “So… could you move the wheels in opposite directions? Make the ship turn a tight circle?”“Well, you could, but the wind would hardly ever allow it. It’s more for slight movements.”Petsune marvels at the craftsmanship and ingenuity of the Coldors, feeling closer to them than ever.Far back behind the stern of the Lady, Misty Shoals Mass shrinks along with the blue sails of the navy ships. Chapel calls out to Mavis. “Make us a heading, Mavis. We’re heading for the Floating Forests of Gar Hedron, about a 5-day sail south-west of here.”“Aye, aye, Captain. Plottin’ a course. If we follow the Misty Shoals borderline, it should lead us right to it.”“Alright. Wheel’s all yours, Mavis.”Chapel steps away from the ship wheel and Petsune fastens the rope to the topsail, leaving it open to catch the breeze. Chapel and Petsune walk off the quarter deck and down into the captain’s quarters below. In all of the excitement, Petsune forgot about The General.Chapel and Petsune walk to the back of the room where Tarlatan lay snoring on the bed. Bor enters behind them and gives Chapel a small cup of something rancid. Petsune gives Chapel a questioning look. Chapel responds, “It’s fickwill. Ya know, fickle willow? Helps you sober up.”“Ah, I’ve never heard of that application. It’s used in the Order as ink instead of the more expensive storm squid ink.” Petsune helps Chapel pour the foul liquid down The General’s throat. “So, why the Floating Forest?”Chapel wipes a bit of dribble off Tarlatan’s chin like a doting mother. “The Lady’ll blend in better with floating trees than regular ships. Plus, there’s a small Mass just south of the Forest, called Garwon Mass.”“I suppose that makes sense…” Petsune looks at The General with concern, “will he ever be rid of this… habit?”“It’ll be a battle he fights for the rest of his life, I fear. But with our help, he may be able to kick the drinking. We just need to be patient when he slips.”“I feel like I failed.”“Not at all. In fact, I’m impressed with how well he did, considering we were sailing toward his home Mass. Don’t leave off talking with him. Whatever you said made a difference, so keep at it. It’s a process.”Chapel moves over to a desk area that has his captain's logbook folded open to a page half-filled with scrawls. Petsune follows and points to the logbook. “Is that the book you were speaking of? With the Vánüm language?”Chapel appears occupied, looking for something in various compartments. “Hmm? Oh yeah, that’s it.” Petsune takes hold of it gently and thumbs through the pages. There are dozens of entries of Vánüm words with definitions and uses, some in collections that spell out familiar places. The first to catch his eye is an entry on the nearby Floating Forest, it reads:‘Gár Hē-Drō-N’ - Steadily Growing GreenGár or Gar, definition : steady, slow, subtle.Hē or He, definition: to increase, more, grow.Drō or Droh, definition: green.N - must be our language?Petsune speaks to a rummaging Chapel without looking up. “You wrote here that Gar means steady or slow. I wonder if that’s where the garpus gets its name?”Chapel answers distractedly, “Yeah, probably. Tussle is really slow.”Petsune continues to look through the entries until a loud crash startles him into looking up. When he does, Chapel is underneath a shelf that appears to have collapsed onto him. Petsune hastily sets the logbook down and goes to help the Captain. “What happened? Are you alright?”“Yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t realize that the shelf wasn’t actually mounted…”“What in the depths were you doing?”“I was trying to make a hole in the ceiling there.”“Why, by all the Saints, were you trying to put a hole in the ship? Isn’t that the last thing you should try to do?”“Well, I thought Sprig’s little trick with the sharksbane was actually very clever. Thought maybe I could rig a similar thing from the ship wheel to here. Ya know, for communication.”“I see…”Petsune helps Chapel out from under the collapsed shelf with its trinkets and devices. The Captain sets about restoring everything to its proper place, meanwhile Petsune finds himself looking at the map on the wall again. Chapel places things back on the shelf and notices Pet staring. “You look at the map a lot.”“Oh? Do I? Perhaps… I’ve just realized how much of the world I haven’t seen. So many places I’ve never been and stories I’ve never heard.”“Well,” Chapel says, replacing the last item, “we’re heading for the Floating Forest, so you can check that off your list.”Petsune nods, then gestures obliquely at the map. “So, what is our route to Dintish Mass?”“Well, we’ll need to head south to get around this.” Chapel taps a small swirl labeled ‘The Flower’.“Why do they call it The Flower?” Petsune asks.“I think it was named by an exploratory vessel that nearly sunk in it a long time ago. During King Boltigaw’s reign, if I remember my history. It was a ship called the Reachmast. The captain coined the term when they wrote about it in their logbook. When you see the massive whirlpool from a distance, it does sort of look like a flower. It’s because the warmer Green Sea meets the water of the Cold Sea there, or something like that.”Petsune notes the things Chapel lists on the map. “So, we obviously don’t want to sail through that.”“Right,” Chapel continues saying, “and I would prefer to avoid the Dead Ships too, so from the Forest we’ll go straight south for a day then cut west to the Royal Mass.”“The Dead Ships?”“Sorry, sailors name for the Shipwreck Straits.”There is some kind of commotion on the deck outside. Suddenly Sprig bursts into the cabin, chasing a squawking prattlebeak. The bird is evidently distressed, squawking and flapping like mad, desperately trying to escape the nimble boy. Chapel shouts over the din. “Sprig! What the depths are you doing?”Petsune attempts to corral the bird and guide it out of the cabin, but it lands on the ceiling truss and refuses to budge. Sprig yells at the prattlebeak. “C’mon, ya drownin’ bird! Get outta here!”It calls out in Sprig’s own voice. “Get outta here!” then it flaps its wings.Sprig looks at the Captain and at Petsune. “Pickett and I been trainin’ it to be a messenger beak, but I’ve about given up on it.”Petsune speaks first, “it? Doesn’t it have a name?”“I suppose it does, but it ain’t told me, so’s I call it Bird.” Sprig fixes the bird with a murderous scowl. Petsune scoops a fallen feather off the ground and chuckles, twisting it between two fingers. Behind them, The General snorts softly but doesn’t wake.(Previous Chapter Eighteen) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twenty) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Seventeen) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Nineteen)18th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Year of ReckoningA strange and twisted form reaches from the bottom of the sea.Pale, solid, white…A gaunt and wretched stone stands stretching out to thee.Not sail, nor stolid, nor right…It beckons, unwavering, and it calls ships and sailors forth…The strange pale shape, unknowable,of Windrock Cairn of the north.From “Windrock Cairn”, Filkish Poems for the Wanderer, Oullman Ushin in the Unreckoned YearsHarlan is leaning against the mizzenmast, quietly sharpening a menacing spear. Petsune is on his way to the hold where he’s pretty sure Mavis is, but Harlan stops him. “I saw you in town yesterday. With the blisker leaf addicts.”Petsune is still a bit uncomfortable around Harlan, as he knows very little about him. Pet responds cautiously, “Oh? Yes, I was helping the Empty Hands serve a meal.”Harlan stares critically into Petsune’s eyes. “Are you an honest man, priest?”“Um, I don’t know…” Petsune looks away, “I would like to think so. But you would have to ask those around me.”Harlan continues to stare at Petsune. “Do you know what blisker leaf is? What it does?”Petsune answers questioningly. “It’s some type of fish-eating plant. It has fine nettles on the leaves that, I believe, paralyze and numb fish to that end.”Harlan still stares unblinkingly. “The nettles don't paralyze or cause pain, like a millie’s or ghost fish. They cause pleasure, which makes the fish swim back after brushing against the leaves.”Petsune returns Harlan’s stare, searching his intent. “Oh. That’s fascinating, but why are you telling me this?”Harlan continues to lock eyes with Petsune. “Because sometimes the most effective way to eliminate an enemy is not to cause pain or suffering, but to give them what they want most.”Petsune raises one eyebrow. “If the Kingdom of Dintash wishes to see the Coldor Cleave eradicated, then I can hardly agree that giving them what they want would be a wise choice.”Harlan squints ever so slightly, and still seemingly has not blinked. Petsune meets his gaze, then walks away to find Mavis. Petsune is confused by the exchange, not certain what Harlan was trying to say or what his intentions were. On top of this, Harlan seems to be the type of person for whom violence is a typical response, if you get one at all. The only thing Petsune knows about him is that he was rescued by Chapel from being hanged, and Chapel said he didn’t deserve it. Petsune trusts Chapel’s judgment.While Petsune ponders the exchange and the person of Harlan, he finds First Mate Mavis in the hold. He appears to be staring out at nothing, in more ways than one. He speaks, somehow aware that Pet is behind him. “Delód’s breath… Look at this, Pet. Not even a crate of goods down here… I haven’t seen it this empty in — well, I’ve never actually seen it this empty.”“I haven’t been here long, but it’s strange even for me. How long have you been on the Lady?”“Oh, well now, let me think… must be near 7 years now.”“How did Chapel get you?” Petsune asks curiously, “it seems there is some strange tale behind his meeting each crew member.”“Indeed. Not so for me though. He was looking for someone who knew their way around a ship. Said he would pay good, so I took the job.”“Oh, is that so? Do you like the job?”Mavis turns from the sparsely populated hold and looks at Petsune. “I’ve been a hired hand all my life, never calling anywheres home. Until the Lady. Chapel has yet to pay me a scale for my work, it’s somethin’ of a runnin’ joke… but I came to trust him, as I see you have.”“Yes, I have. I’m not quite sure how he managed it.”“He’s got guile, I’ll say that much. He dupes people by his honesty.”“That is certainly true…”Mavis turns to glance once more at the hold with no goods, and Petsune asks him a question. “Has Chapel ever, uh, discussed me with you? That is to say, do you know anything about me?”Mavis eyes him from the side. “You mean like that you’re a Deepblood, or that you’re a Coldor?”Petsune’s mouth opens slightly, and his eyebrows raise. “You knew this whole time?”Mavis laughs lightly. “Well, I do now. It was just a lucky guess. I heard Sprig sayin’ how he saw you arguing with a crier on Thune.”Petsune goes quiet, then looks to Mavis for advice. “Do you think — if I tell the crew, I mean — do you think they’ll be angry? Will they hate me?”Mavis pats Petsune’s shoulder, more gently than he would’ve expected. “If you thought that was possible, I don’t think you’d have stayed.” And with that he walks up out of the hold.Petsune feels the smallest bit of shame for doubting the crew of the Lady, but it is overpowered by a deep appreciation. He follows Mavis above deck and is greeted by most of the crew. Chapel swings down from somewhere above and says loudly enough for everyone to hear, “A Royal messenger beak just arrived. I saw it land aboard the King’s Fist docked off the Mass.” Chapel looks around then speaks again, “We will be leaving when the Saint’s sun sets in a few hours, that way we’re sailing into the light of the Small sun. It’s not much but it may give us an edge in visibility if we’re pursued.”The Big Man speaks up. “Aye. An’ it seems we’ll be needing every advantage we can muster.” The Big Man gestures with a large hand toward the blue sails. The ships appear to be spreading out slightly, creating a berm against attackers — or deserters.There are nods and murmurs from various crew members. Sprig speaks up unexpectedly. “Where’s the old goat? Ain’t seen ‘em since this mornin’.”Cheese is the first to respond. “I’ll have ‘em here before we’re ready to weigh anchor, don’t worry Captain.” And with that, she hastens off the ship in search of General Tar. Concern is written acutely in the lines of Mavis’s face, and Chapel seems worried too. He shakes off his worry and looks to Petsune. “Pet, if you wish to send a messenger beak, now is the time.”“I looked for a Roost yesterday, but I never found one. This Mass is too small to need one. Perhaps we could stop along the way?” Petsune appears sheepish.The Captain answers, “While I appreciate your optimism, Pet, this doesn’t feel like a trip where we’ll be sightseeing along the way. But I’ll do what I can.”Petsune nods in gratitude. Sprig speaks up again. “I’ve a prattlebeak I been trainin’ as a messenger? It can repeat whole sentences now.”Petsune looks at Sprig’s deceptively innocent face with fondness. “Perhaps, Sprig. Thank you, it means a lot.” Sprig smiles his snaggle-toothed grin and then dashes off to raise mayhem somewhere alongside Bungle and Tussle. Petsune walks over to Chapel and inquires quietly, “Are you certain we should bring Sprig along for this? There’s a high chance of cannon and rifle fire. I don’t want him to get hurt.”The Captain looks quizzically at Petsune. “Well, he could get hurt anywhere, Pet?”“Yes, but aren’t we increasing his chances by bringing him?”“He has a family of people here who wish to protect him. Pretty sure you won’t find that for him on this Mass.” The Captain walks away and Petsune gets the distinct feeling that Chapel has already wrestled with this same question.Almost an hour later Cheese appears with The General. She has one of his arms over her shoulder as she supports his weight. They stumble off the gangway onto the ship and The Big Man catches them both. Petsune watches, saddened at the sight of an inebriated Tarlatan. The Big Man carries The General into the captain's quarters, no doubt depositing him into Chapel’s expansive bed. Shushilah comforts Cheese and asks, “Where did you find him?”She sighs loudly. “At the second bar I went to, he were outside slumped against the wall. Poor old man…”Petsune’s heart hurts for The General, and he has to beat back the feeling of failing. The Big Man returns from the captain's quarters and approaches Petsune. “He’ll be alright. Aye… Bor is bringing him a ficklewillow tincture. You must not be too hard on him, little Pet.”The Big Man seems to mistake Petsune’s slight scowl for disappointment in The General. “I’m being hard on myself. I feel as though I let him down in some way. I spoke to him, tried encouraging him a few days ago. I thought maybe I had reached him, that he… I don’t know… that he would be better than before.”The Big Man looks both fond and sad as he places his hands on Petsune’s shoulders. “Ah, little Pet. I am sure you helped. Aye, it is not so simple. I wish it were…”The Big Man releases Pet and walks away to help Shushilah raise the gangway. The Captain calls out from behind the ship wheel. “Weigh anchor and ready the Lady! This might get tricky.”Then the ship begins to move away from Misty Shoals Mass.(Previous Chapter Seventeen) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Nineteen) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Sixteen) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Eighteen)16th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Year of ReckoningThe Vánüm language, or the Elder Tongue: Fā, sometimes stylized as Fay, definition: violence, to undo, unmake, or to destroy (uncommon)From ‘Captain's Log’ of the Painful Lady, written by Captain Chapel in the 120th Reckoned YearThe entire crew is assembled on the deck below the imposing and beautiful tree-mast that holds the Lady’s furled sails. Petsune tried to persuade Chapel not to tell Sprig at least, but Chapel refused. He had said, “Hard things shouldn’t be hidden from children, just told with more care.” Now the Captain steps forward and speaks to the crew, “We have sad news: I’m afraid King Bornidin the Younger is dead.” There is some muttering and a few shallow gasps. Chapel continues, “I won’t hide things from you… the story is that he was killed by a group of Coldors, but I can’t say if this is rumor or truth. If it is truth, then a declaration of war will be issued by King Feyaz. Let’s all pray to the Saints that isn’t the case.”The General is the first to speak, giving voice to the thoughts of many. “Hmm. What will we do now, Captain?”Chapel looks around at the worried faces of the crew, “We will remain docked here at the Misty Shoals and wait to see if a declaration of war is made. A Royal messenger beak will be able to fly here in about 2 days. If one does not arrive, we will sail North across the Misty Shoals to the Broadfell Keep, I want to collect some trail oil over that way. If a messenger beak does arrive… well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Whatever happens, we’re family. In the meantime, we have some things to get done around the house, so to speak,” Chapel looks at each person he speaks to, “Bor, you will be heading into the markets to replenish our stock, so if anyone else wants anything in particular, see Bor. Mavis, you’ll be in charge of seeing that all of our cargo is sold off here, or at least as much as we can manage.”Mavis’s eyes go wide. “Are you certain, Captain?”But Chapel doesn’t hesitate, “Quite. Pickett, Sprig, Big Man, Shush, and Cheese - you are all going to help Mavis offload the cargo. Don’t worry so much about price, just get it sold.” There are a few nods from those named. “General Tar, I want you to go into the town and speak with anyone who remembers you. See if you can’t get more details on what’s happening back on Dintash Mass.” General Tar appears crestfallen, but Chapel encourages him. “I know it’s hard being back, but you're the man for the job. Now, Harlan: I want you to dig up a few weapons, just in case there’s a conscription… let’s hope not, but I’d rather be prepared. Pet, you’re with me. I want to talk to you about something.”The crew slowly breaks off to begin accomplishing the tasks the Captain set them. Chapel walks over to Petsune and bids him follow with a hand wave, walking into the captain's cabin. Chapel walks over to the map on the wall and stares at it while he speaks. “Ah, Pet… I hope it isn’t war. But, if it is, there’ll be a conscription, you can bet on it.”Petsune watches the back of Chapel as he stares at the map. Chapel looks down, then turns to Petsune. “I have an idea, and I wanted your thoughts first, since the Coldor Cleave is your home. I don’t want to fight in a war against your people — against any people. If it comes down to it, I think we should desert — make a run for it.”Petsune’s eyes widen. “Are you certain that’s a good idea?”“Not at all. In fact, I’m certain it isn’t, but it might be the best option we’ll have. ‘Course I’ll put it by the rest of the crew before then, just in case we need a plan.”Petsune walks up beside Chapel and stares at the large map of Yath. He places his finger on Dintash Mass, then drags it north-east until it rests on Misty Shoals Mass. Petsune wonders aloud, “A two-day flight… how many days is it to sail?”Chapel watches Petsune’s finger on the map. “It’s about an 11- or 12-day sail, depending on the weather.”“And how long to the Cleave?”Chapel looks at the map in front of them. “Sailing or flying?”“Both, I suppose.”Now the Captain raises one eyebrow at Petsune. “Why? What’re you thinking?”Petsune approaches the map, this time placing his finger on the Misty Shoals Mass and dragging it westward and slightly north until it points at the ice filled Northwest Waters.Petsune taps the Cleave with his finger. “If it is to be war, we could send a messenger beak ahead to the Cleave, that way they’ll at least have time to prepare…”“That’s true. Well, by sail, from here to the Cleave… I would say it’s about a month’s journey, if you factor in the need for making port two or three times.”“And by bird?”“That’s hard to say… at least half that, maybe faster. They would know more at a Roost. It’s not a bad idea though, to send a messenger beak I mean. If there is a conscription, it would mean the navy wouldn’t weigh anchor until a fortnight or more after the declaration, to give time for ships to respond.”“So, what does that mean? For us?”“Well, if we sail as soon as the draft arrives, we could be at Dintish Mass in, say, 8 days maybe.”“But why go there at all, if we are going to desert?” Petsune wonders.Chapel looks from the map to Petsune. “Because my father is the King’s Right Hand — he’s in command of the navy and is the King’s protectorate. He is as close to the king as you can get,” suddenly Chapel seems to focus inwardly, leaving things unsaid, “that is why this is my problem — If there is even a chance I can reason with him…”Chapel looks away and Petsune tries to look into his eyes. “Is there though? From what you’ve said, he’ll happily wipe out the Coldor, if given the chance.”“I don’t know… it’s the best plan I’ve got right now. I need to speak with him — to see if he is beyond redemption, to try and reason with him. I can’t just sit and watch,” then again, he grows quiet, “I’ll extend this last chance to him, to do the right thing. And I have questions that need answering… We’ll tell the crew when they’re all back aboard.”Chapel turns and exits the cabin, leaving Petsune to stare at the map. He looks at the Coldor Cleave, cordoned off to the northwest corner of the map and he feels a pang of pain for his people. Both then and now his people have attacked first, striking at the three allied kingdoms. The war had started with The Shot — When the Cleave, his parents, publicly tried to assassinate Fellpost HelBenledore. Since The Captain revealed who his parents were, he has become even more convinced of Coldor’s innocence. He wanted to be sure, but there is still no evidence or explanation that exonerates his parents. And now that Coldor has successfully assassinated the king, well, he can feel doubt creeping in. It’s not as though he actually knew his parents, but could they really be responsible for the North War? And if the Coldor did assassinate King Bornidin the Young, then Prince Feyaz would be right to issue a declaration of war. Petsune prays a silent prayer to the Saints for wisdom and prays that his people aren’t the death-worshiping savages everyone makes them out to be. It’s not a question or prayer he has ever had before, but things are not looking good for the Cleave. He looks at Thune Mass on the map and thinks of Father Haltur, feeling more pain seem to pinch in his chest. If there is another war, there will be so much pain and death on both sides.Petsune exits the cabin and sees some of the crew bustling about, emptying the hold of all its goods. Petsune walks across the gangway onto the dock and makes his way through the quiet markets. He walks past the familiar stands selling piles of grapples, oranges and whale fruit and the like; past stands selling fresh-caught gipp, lardfee, runnykit, and tagfin. Out of the market stalls, and into the streets where the shops are. There are cobblers, blacksmiths, carpenters, and tailors. There are guards though, more than usual for a mass of this size. Petsune is not looking at any of the shops or the guards, instead he keeps his eyes trained on the docks to his left. They encroach and recede on the street, following the raw edge of tower vines that is the end of the mass.Petsune walks for a few minutes, out past the shops and into the houses. Finally, he sees what he is looking for, a pull-ferry that leads to a Church of the Deep. This church is smaller than the one on Thune Mass, probably because they are so close to Broadfell waters. The Church of the Deep is the primary religion of the Dintish Kingdom, while Broadfell favors the Sanctum of Souls, and the Order of Loss is popular in the Oullman. This is why Broadfell tends to be more rigid while Filkash tends to be more lax. Petsune steps into the ferry, briefly noting the craftsmanship. The raft appears to be shaped like a small shallowback, with the breathing trunks stretching into the air to hold the rope. Petsune pulls himself across the gap of water to the Church of the Deep. The building is a simple building, perhaps half the size of the one on Thune Mass. The face of the building is carved to look like a forest of tower vines.The door swings inward and Petsune walks into a humble sanctuary. There are three congregants kneeling in the grooves of water, each silently praying. The Window is at the front of the sanctuary, but it is smaller and simpler. Petsune goes to the front and goes through the comforting and familiar rituals of the sacrament. First, he ingests the small cup of salt water to remind him of the toil of the Saints, then he takes the empty fish-bone cup and drops it into the well. It is weighted so it sinks, and Pet watches it descend until it is no more than a white spot in a dark blue void. Once he has finished at the front of the sanctuary, he kneels in the rearmost groove of water to pray. He petitions all four Saints to resolve the tumultuous situation without a war. Petsune grasps the small leather pouch he wears around his neck, feeling the familiar weight of his parent’s wedding bands there. Every Deepblood chooses something significant that will help center their mind and clear their focus. He prays to the Church of the Deep’s Saint Delód, patron Saint of Changing: “Please, change the path we are on. Change our hearts and our minds.” Next Petsune wraps his fingers around the vine belt that all Empty Hands from the Order of Loss possess, beseeching Wōde, the patron Saint of Stealing, to intervene: “Please, Saint Wōde, steal our malice and our hatred. Replace them with mercy and love.” Then, he places a hand over the dagger every True Soul of the Sanctum has, and he petitions Ründ, the patron Saint of Bending: “Bend our will, Saint Ründ, and bow our knee — to you, and to each other.”Finally, Petsune holds his hands open and empty in his lap and he calls to Saint Vésh, the forbidden patron Saint of Ending — and the Saint of his people, the Coldor: “I ask for a peaceful end to this tension, one without bloodshed. Please, Saint Vésh… let there be a new beginning.” When Petsune finally opens his quivering eyes, he feels much lighter. He stays on his knees for some time more, until he hears someone kneel beside him. When he sneaks a surreptitious glance over, he sees a nondescript lady dressed in something like the robes of a Deepblood, though it’s difficult to tell. The light dances across her robes in shifting patterns, changing the look so he can’t tell if they’re Deepblood robes or not. She is sitting silently with her eyes closed, and Pet assumes she is praying. He decides to leave then, so as not to disturb her. He stands and feels the familiar dribble of water run down his shins. Sneaking one last glance at the lady, he feels he knows her. He also finds himself at peace for some reason — perhaps seeing others take strength from the Saints. Petsune quietly leaves the church and slowly makes his way back to the ship, chasing the reddish light from the setting Small Sun, and feeling more at ease than he has all day.(Previous Chapter Sixteen) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Eighteen) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Fifteen) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Seventeen)16th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the 29th Year of King Bornidin the Young’s Reign, 126th Reckoned YearIt happened that a fisherman found Saint Ründ in the form of a fish caught in his net. The fisherman cried out, “why are you in my net?” To which the Saint replied, “did you not pray for the greatest catch of your life?” The fisherman replied that indeed, he did, but he could not eat the Saint. And so the Saint broke the net and swam free and said, “If you are not grateful for what is freely given, then you will never have what is carefully held back.” Then the Saint disappeared into the depths, along with all of the fish in the fisherman’s net.From ‘Saint Ründ and the Fisherman’s Net’ Parable, King Wonum the Wise in his 5th Year of Reign and 6 years Pre-ReckoningPetsune tosses in the night with a strange and feverish dream. He is swimming through the air of the fish market on Thune Mass and Father Haltur is his shadow on the ground. Father Haltur is saying “Beware the Coldor, Summon Hope.” and his face changes into a sneer. Then Petsune is on the main deck of the Painful Lady, but it’s infinitely larger and Chapel stands at the helm, towering hundreds of feet tall. Chapel turns the ship wheel so hard that the whole ship rolls over into the water and Petsune is thrown off the deck and into the sea. He is drowning, sinking down into the depths, but he isn’t alone. There are hundreds of thousands of unrecognizable people sinking alongside him. Each is being drug down by a deadweight shaped like a man heaving a heavy burden.When Petsune looks up in the dream, the Painful Lady is gone. In its place is the outline of a woman, dark against a fire that burns on the surface. The woman is made of darkness and stars, and she is reaching for Petsune - or is she pointing at him? - with her featureless outline. He feels a dense weight settle on his chest as he struggles to breathe. Then suddenly a ginder ray is under him and lifting him to the surface, but it doesn’t stop there. It flies out of the water, bursting through the flames, and Petsune is riding it like one of the flying ships from a Finger Weaver tale. He flies through an immense storm cloud, and it begins to rain heavily against his upturned face.Petsune jolts awake to find Bungle licking his face thoroughly from the side, and Tussle is seated on his chest, sleeping inside her shell. Petsune groans and rolls away from the barrage of affection. “Ugh, not you too…” he says, pushing Tussle gently off his chest. A stubby head pokes out of the shell, snub nose wriggling and eyes closed, then retracts again. Petsune successfully extracts himself from the onslaught of licks and snorts, stretching his limbs upward and yawning quietly. He looks around the hold to see who else is still sleeping. Cheese snores away in a swinging hammock, Shushilah tosses slightly but doesn’t rise, and all the rest of the crew appear to be awake. Since accidentally boarding the Lady, Pet has found his sea legs a bit more and he easily makes his way through the hold.There are hanging nets of personal items, and different tools secured in out-of-the-way places. Petsune snakes his way through crates and barrels until he is at last above deck. Nearly as soon as the fresh air hits his face, Petsune is struck with a chill. The air is cooler than it has been, and the skies are looking gray. The first rain always marks the beginning of Delód s months, and Petsune thinks it a bad omen to see such a gray sky this early in the month. Petsune stares out at the sky, remembering the strange dream he had in the night. Mavis walks up beside him and says what they are both thinking, “Bad omen, that is. Still fourteen days till the rainy season, by my mark.”“I saw a Royal messenger beak,” Petsune says, “it was flying toward Misty Shoals Mass yesterday.”“Captain mentioned it. Don’t bode well. I don’t like it…”The gray skies seem to darken ominously at the horizon, steadily leeching higher as though the unseen world beyond the horizon is leaking a poison into the sky. Mavis walks down the steps to the hold and Petsune hears the beginning of a loud wakeup call as he walks away. He joins Chapel at the helm and sees that the darkening skies have also dampened the Captain’s spirits. Petsune follows Chapel’s steady gaze however, and finds he is not looking at the darkening sky, he isn’t looking at anything. Petsune waves a hand in front of the Captain’s face and says, “Hello? Chapel?”“Huh? Oh sorry, Pet. I was just thinking.”“Yes, I could see that,” Petsune tries to lighten Chapel’s mood, “from the steam coming off your head.”Chapel chuckles. “It’s this place. General Tar hasn’t even come above decks the past day or two. Makes me think of the North War, and my father.”Petsune watches Chapel’s face. “Why are we here then?”“Well, it’s usually better to confront the bad outright, rather than run from it.”Petsune responds, “And what bad are we confronting? The General’s or yours?”“I think both…” Chapel looks at Petsune, “but I’m worried I might be running from mine.”Petsune looks back into the aged eyes of his Captain and responds kindly. “We’ll confront it together then, all of us.”They both look out ahead at the encroaching Mass, wondering what awaits them there. The closer they get, the more details can be made out. There are a typical number of ships docked at the Mass and a few with anchors dropped in the surrounding water.There are mostly green sails, with some yellow and red mixed in. Chapel and Petsune only have eyes for the blue sails that are spread throughout the area. Chapel removes his fancy Saintstone eyeglass and hands it to Pet. “Those are the border galleons docked off the starboard side of the Mass. See the blue sails?”Petsune gingerly grasps the white eyeglass, then strains his eyes and sees the blue fabric. “Yes, I see them.”Chapel “Take a closer look, would you? See anything else on the sails?”Petsune looks at the bigger galleons. “They’re certainly Royal Navy, they all have the blu—hang on… the one toward the back, it has a symbol on the sails, a gold symbol.”Chapel asks in a voice without emotion, “What’s the symbol?”“Hang on, it’s obscured…” Petsune squints, “it looks like a hand? Yes, it’s a closed hand.”Petsune returns the eyeglass, wondering not for the first time how he came by it. Chapel says, “It’s a fist. The Royal Navy’s large war galleons are called a King’s Fist, they have 100 cannons. The smaller galleons have 40 cannons, and they’re called a King’s Hand. Normal Navy ships have 20 to 30 guns.”“So, what does that mean? That a King’s Fist is here.”“We’ll know soon, but probably nothing good.”Chapel and Petsune look toward the approaching Mass,Chapel remains at the helm as they coast closer and closer to Misty Shoals Mass, proving to be just as adept at piloting the ship as Mavis. There are a few other vessels coming in and out from the port, but things seem slower than at Ginders.The blue sailed navy ships have each weighed anchor just outside the Mass ports, meanwhile Chapel steers the Lady into the docks. There are a normal number of ships, each color sail represented, but there is hardly any bustle. The merchants are at their stalls, and the patrons are making their purchases, but all move quietly. It’s as though the entire Mass is in a daze. Once they are docked, Mavis begins dictating what is to be offloaded and sold, and Bor is given a list to purchase from the markets.The gangway is lowered, and Chapel calls out to the man assisting them on the other end, “Awfully quiet here.”The man shouts back as he fastens the gangway down, “Haven’t you heard? The King is dead.” Chapel and Petsune exchange grave looks. Petsune looks to the man on the dock and asks, “How did this happen? Was the King taken ill?”The man finishes fastening ropes and ties. “If only it was an illness. He was killed: murdered by a group of those Coldor barbarians. I heard they even butchered his body, layin’ it out in pieces, some type o’ savage ritual for their devil-god.”The man on the dock walks away disgusted and Chapel looks at Petsune with a strange look of contemplation. Pet speaks first, “What does this mean?”Chapel looks over toward the collection of blue sails. “It means my problems might have come to confront us.”(Previous Chapter Fifteen) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Seventeen) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Fourteen) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Sixteen)15th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the 29th Year of King Bornidin the Young’s Reign, 126th Reckoned YearKingdom, Oullman, Cleave and Keep.All were happy as could be.Till the Shot heard from the Strait.Now all are sinking with deadweights.Kingdom, Oullman, Cleave and Keep.All are sinking in the deep.Don’t look down or watch your feet.Kingdom, Oullman, Cleave and KeepFrom ‘Kingdom, Oullman, Cleave and Keep’ Common Children’s Rhyme, Author Unknown in the 97th Reckoned YearDinner is announced by the high-pitched ringing of Bor’s bell. Petsune arrives in line just behind Chapel. Chapel turns to hand Petsune a plate but sees that he has one already. “I hope you didn’t steal that from Bor’s kitchen. We’ll be eating Petsune stew tomorrow.”“Ah, no. I wouldn’t dare. The Big Man traded for it from the Good Lend.”“Oh? Well, that’s good. He’s a thoughtful man.”“Yes, he is, I was rather surprised.”“Yeah? Well, he may be big, and he may not harbor much love toward the churches, but he is a genuinely kind man. I was rather surprised he likes you, but like I said, he’s a good man.”The crew devours the incredible food Bor cooked up. It is allegedly some fancy dish from the Oullman. There are a few slices of snub-nosed gipp sautéed in something sweet, with thin grapple slices, all atop a slice of sweet bread. It’s without a doubt the best meal Petsune has ever had. When Pet looks over at Bor, he is beaming with pride at the delicious creation. Petsune offers his extreme thanks alongside the rest of the crew, and as he does every meal now, he offers to do the washing.Chapel and Petsune tackle the cleanup. “So, Captain, I don’t believe you ever said where you met Bor?”“Didn’t I? No, suppose I didn’t. Well, it’s a funny story actually. He was the personal Bor to Fellpost HelBenledore up in Broadfell, but apparently the Fellpost wasn’t as appreciative as our Bor would’ve liked. I heard he corrected the Fellpost on his manners and then HelBenledore had him cast out.”“Oh wow. He’s lucky he wasn’t executed for something like that.”“Yeah. But, anyway, when I came across Bor, he was berating some poor cook in a tavern. I showed him the ship and he said something about it being a ‘vessel worthy of his talents’ and that was that.”“I pity whoever he was belittling…”The two of them continue washing and cleaning up. Bungle and Tussle are gnawing away contentedly on some leftover gipp, just outside the kitchen doors. After they finish washing everything and carefully placing it back in Bor’s designated locations, Chapel speaks, “Oh, I wanted to say thanks. I’m not sure what you said to the General, but he does seem to be doing better.”“Of course, I’m happy to engage in priestly duties. Tar did mention something I didn’t know about you.”“Yeah? What’s that?”“Well, I recited a poem from this book I read once when I was in the Sanctum. It’s called Musings of the Hollow Trees. Anyway, he had said you collect sayings from the Hollow Trees, that you seek them out even.”Chapel's face changes into a look Petsune knows well, the fond memory of a lost thing. Pet gives him the silence, allowing him to speak in his own time. “My mother wrote that book, Musings of the Hollow Trees…”“Oh, wow. Really? I had no idea. Why didn’t she list herself as the author?”“She believed the Hollow Trees should receive all the credit. Thought of herself as merely a messenger, I suppose. She sailed with my father, long before I was born, following him from naval outpost to naval outpost. She developed her own hobbies and passions along the way, to keep busy, I guess. She encountered at least three Hollow Trees that she had longer talks with, and I guess at some point, she started writing things down.”“She sounds brilliant… I’m sure she was a wonderful person.”Chapel looks upward at unseen things. “Yeah, I’m sure she was… She was the first person to realize that every Hollow Tree’s name is a palindrome: the same front and back.”Petsune considers this revelation, thinking of the names listed in the Musings. “You know, I never even realized that… hah I spent hours copying out the text once while I was in the Sanctum, and I never even noticed.”Chapel continues to stare deep into the past, until snapping back and looking to Pet. “Yeah… So, now I collect the sayings of Hollow Trees. It’s a way of keeping her with me, I guess. Even named the ship after one of the sayings she wrote in her book.”“Ah, yes, I think I do remember that one. The Painful Lady.”“Yeah, pretty sure it’s Saint Vésh’s title in the Cleave. But I doubt anyone else in Dintash is aware of that.”“Huh… That’s interesting. I don’t know that I would have made the connection either. It sounds plausible though, each Saint has a few titles used to speak of them: Saint Delód, Lady of Currents; Saint Wōde, The Hand that Holds; and Saint Ründ, The Only Unbent. Those are the main ones.”“Yeah, Painful Lady fits right in there.”They each grab a door and close the foredeck kitchen. Petsune follows Chapel up the steps to the bow of the ship. Bor is leaned against a railing smoking a rather elegantly formed pipe. He nods, first to Chapel then to Pet, then he turns to look out at the yawning horizon. The small sun is nearly set, casting a dim purple hue over everything. Chapel and Petsune find elbow room on the starboard railing, while Bor leans on the portside. Chapel leans over the prow and tosses some leftover sweet bread out onto the dull, crepuscular surface of the water.Chapel speaks first, “Most people think Hollow Trees are only sages of parables and poetry, but they actually know a lot more than that.”Oh? Like what?”“Well, after I learned about my mother’s interest in the Hollow Trees, I started reading any information I could find about them. Most people get stories or advice or poems from the Trees. There were some that wanted knowledge, which is how I learned about the Vánüm language.”“Vánüm? I’ve never heard of it…”“You may have seen it written about as the Elder Tongue, or the Ancient Speech?”Petsune appears thoughtful. “It doesn’t sound familiar to me…”“Well, the Hollow Trees say it was the language of the Saints. They spoke words in Vánüm to create Yath, and these words have been passed down throughout history, some still surviving today.”“Hmm,” Petsune thinks about what each church believes and speaks aloud, “that does make sense. Each of the churches believe in words being spoken to bring about the creation of Yath, they differ in just about everything else though.”They both laugh lightly in understanding of the churches and their differences. Down at the surface of the now dark water, the glowing shapes of ghost fish begin to emerge from the black depths. Petsune and Chapel watch, mesmerized by the soporific dance of the ghost fish. Petsune continues their conversation, “But what do you mean ‘still surviving’, how can that be?”“A lot of our own language comes from this forgotten Speech of the Saints; we’ve just lost the meaning and understanding over time.”Petsune’s eyebrows both climb up his forehead. “Really? Like what?”“I’ll happily tell you what very little I know, but I only have a few of the words memorized. The rest I have written down in my captain's log. Feel free to check it out whenever you like.”“Thank you, I will. But isn’t a captain’s log supposed to be used for important things? Like a log of where you’ve been and what you’ve sold and all that?”“Yes and no. Captains logs often have that stuff, but they are also sort of just a journal the captains keep for themselves.”“Huh… I never knew that.” Petsune says contemplatively.“Yeah, I think it’s also to keep record of what happened aboard the ship if it should turn up empty or something suspicious happens.”“That does make sense. But anyway, what were you saying?” Pet asks.Chapel recalls, “Uhh — Vánüm.”“Right.”“So, let me think here…” Chapel bores holes in the railing with his fixated gaze.Petsune lazily watches the ghost fish. Towers below, in the pitch-black depths, he thinks he spots the glow of a flashing storm squid, but he doesn’t see it again. Chapel finally perks up with remembrance. “Got it, I remember one. The word is Fē.”“Fee?”“Yeah, Fē, and it means sweet, like the flavor. So, a lardfee is just lard from our tongue, and Fē from the Vánüm tongue, meaning sweet lard.”“Interesting…” Petsune says, “do you remember any others?”“Actually, that reminds me of an even better example: runnykit.”“What, like the fish or the game?”“Well, the game is named after the fish but yeah, the fish. I figured out that the word is two Vánüm words combined: Rün and Ckit —”“Rune and Kit? Those are Vánüm words?”“— yeah, Ckit means fast and Rün mea—”“Let me guess, it means Bending?”“… Yeah, how’d you know?”“Saint Ründ, Patron Saint of Bending.”“Hah! I never even thought about that… Yeah, I guess that fits.”“So then, for the fish, runnykit: it would mean fast bending. Hmm, they are very fast fish.”“Very. And think about our sayings too, like ‘he carries a light kit’ —”“Ahh, yes. It does make a lot of sense, I suppose.”The minds of Petsune and Chapel are whirring away with their intriguing insights and revelations. The ghost fish glide just below the surface in lazy circles, their salient organs imitating the eternal scream of a drowned sailor. Petsune watches them finish off the final mushy bits of sweet bread and then eerily descend into the darker waters below. The ghost fish make him think of death and dying, and he thinks aloud, “I wonder… if Saint Ründ’s name is Vánüm, I wonder if all of the Saint’s names are? If each name is simply the Vánüm word for what they are the patron of?”Chapel raises one eyebrow and contemplates the idea, turning it over in his head. “Yeah, that would fit. Ründ, Patron Saint of Bending; Delód, Patron Saint of Changing; Wōde, Patron Saint of Stealing, and… Vésh, Patron Saint of Ending.”“Hmm… maybe you have some new words to add to your logbook?”“Maybe. When we find a Hollow Tree, I’ll have to ask.”Petsune stares blankly up at the moon now high in the sky, a full and luminous pale light. It reflects in skittering lines across the ocean, causing the surface to sparkle like millie juice. Petsune yawns lightly, then speaks to the moon. “I’ve always wanted to meet a Hollow Tree…”Chapel rises off his elbows and turns for his cabin, “Well, stick with us, Pet, and I’m sure you will.” Chapel waves a hand, and though Petsune can’t see his face, he pictures it winking as it takes the steps off the foredeck. Petsune heads down into the hold where Chapel’s favorite chest has been moved. There are several loud sawing noises emanating from lumpy forms under blankets. It puts Petsune right to sleep.(Previous Chapter Fourteen) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Sixteen) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Thirteen) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Fifteen)15th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the 29th Year of King Bornidin the Young’s Reign, 126th Reckoned YearWho are those that have a purpose?They are the Misguided, for they do not watch their feet.Who are those that hold a truth?They are the Mistaken, for what they hold they make cheap.Who are those that house an answer?They are the Misled, for they love the ring in their nose.Who are those that heed a moral?They are the Misused, for they scorn the story told.Who are those that harbor a voice?They are the Misspoken, for their words are not their own.Who are we that speak these oaths?We are the hidden ones, never to be known.From ‘The Hidden Liturgy’, Fāy-Núl Tör, Author Unknown in the Unreckoned YearsThe first cry of ‘shallowback’ rings through the air mere hours after Chapel’s warning. Mavis calls out, “Shallowback off the starboard prow!” from behind the ship wheel. Petsune is interested in seeing one, so he makes his way to the starboard gunnel. The only other crew members that come over are Pickett and Sprig. At first, Petsune can’t tell where the whale is. Sprig says, “See them two dark things? They’s the breathin’ tubes. The head’s somewhere below eatin’ gunk.” Sprig points and when Petsune follows his finger, he sees two shapes moving slightly along the calm surface of the sea. Sprig appears disappointed. “Ah, it’s down too deep. Come’on, Pick.”Sprig turns to leave but Petsune is confused. “What do you mean? Why’s it too deep?”Pickett stares out at the two shapes in the water. “There isn’t much algae on the surface this far from the Misty Shoals, so the shallowback is deeper to stir algae off the tower vines.”The three of them watch the breathing tubes until they suddenly disappear beneath the surface. Pickett walks away first without saying anything. Sprig gets a little excited and then looks at Petsune. “Wait’ll you see one at the surface. They’re my favorite.”Petsune asks, “Oh? Why’s that?”Sprig looks smug. “You’ll just have to wait and see.” Then he too walks away from the railing. Overhead, a flock of prattlebeak and windgulls float in place as a breeze holds them in the sky like an unseen hand. Petsune watches them, hearing faint echoes of Mavis’s voice calling out shallowback. He watches the flock until a lone bird crosses his vision and forces him to look twice. The bird’s talons glitter with an unmistakable white glare as it flies off ahead of the Painful Lady. Petsune looks up to the crow’s nest, but Chapel isn’t there. When he looks to Mavis, he is focused on a compass and hasn’t seen the bird.Petsune looks for Chapel and finds him in his cabin, writing in the captain's log. He closes it when Petsune enters. “Hello, Pet. I was just about to come looking for you. But you found me first, so go ahead. What’s up?”“I just saw a Royal messenger beak flying toward the Misty Shoals.”“Are you sure?”“Pretty sure. I saw the glint of the Saintstone bands they place around the talons.”“I wonder what the King could possibly want with the Misty Shoals… Well, suppose we’ll find out when we make port.”“I don’t like it, Chapel. Messenger beaks are only used in war or proclamations relevant to the entire kingdom.”“Well, the catch is under keel.”“What the depths does that mean?”“The catch is under the boat. If you harpoon a whale and it dives under the boat, there’s nothing you can do but wait and see where it surfaces.”“Ah, I see. Let’s hope that we’re waiting to see what the whale does and not the ones with a harpoon in our back.”Chapel appears slightly troubled, but Petsune is realizing that he has been bothered the whole time. “Is something bothering you, Captain?”“Yeah, it’s the General. I’m afraid he’s getting worse.”“You mean his, um, drinking?”“Yeah. He’s getting more irritable and desperate for it, maybe because we’re approaching his home Mass. I was gonna come talk to you about it.”“Me? Why me?”Chapel smiles beautifically. “Well, you’re a priest, aren’t you? Thought maybe you could speak with him.”Petsune looks at the Captain doubtfully. “I can try, of course. But I don’t know how much help I’ll be.”The Captain smirks, closes his eyes, then leans back with his hands behind his head. “I’ll tell you what a clumsy priest once told me, it went something like this: ‘Blah blah, I don’t know anything. This crew respects you, even if you don’t see it. Blah blah, they trust you, and I trust you, even if you don’t trust yourself.’ Something like that, I think.”Petsune laughs and rolls his eyes. “Yes, that sounds about right.”Chapel laughs at the ceiling.Petsune comes out of the captain's quarters and nearly runs into the Big Man. “Saints! You’ve got to stop doing that to me.”“Hah! Aye, sorry, Pet. I was coming to ask if you fancied a game of Runny?”“I would, but I’m actually looking for General Tar, have you seen him?”A flash of sadness and pain flickers across The Big Man’s face. “Aye. He was below decks, last I saw.”“Thanks, Big Man.”“And, Pet?”Petsune turns back toward the Big Man. “Yes?”“He’s not himself, just now. I know you’re a priest, and I do trust you, but…”“I know, Benafield. I understand. I just want to talk and if he wants to, I’ll listen. I thought that maybe if a priest was doing the listening, it would count for something.”The Big Man shows an emotion for a moment that is hard for Petsune to place. Perhaps pain and longing, the heavy combination of a burden long born. It reminds him of looking down into the Window to the Deep. “Aye? You would do that for him?”“Of course. I would do it for anyone. I don’t think I am any better than anybody, like other priests. I just want to listen and share whatever wisdom I have found helps me.”The Big Man appears thoughtful, then smiles. “I knew I liked you, little Pet.”The General is rummaging around some crates and goods when Petsune finds him in the hold. He appears startled when Petsune speaks, “Hello, General Tarlatan.”“Oh! Oh my, I didn’t see you there. Terribly sorry, boy. What can I do for you then, hmm?”“Well, it’s… uh… or rather, I heard that you were well read. Is that true?”Tarlatan’s interest shows on his face. “Hmm? Well read? Oh yes, I should say so. Read many books in my time.”“Ah, perfect. I was wondering because I recall a poem from a book called ‘Musings of the Hollow Trees’, have you ever read it?”“Hmm… no, can’t say that I have. Though I am familiar with Hollow Trees. Fascinating things.”“Indeed. Um, anyway, I recalled a poem and was wondering if you had any thoughts on its meaning. Or if perhaps, you would want to discuss it with me?”The General sits atop the crate he was previously rummaging through, clearing engaged now. “Yes, alright. Give me a chance to stretch the old noodle, I should think. Right, well. Go on. Out with it.”Petsune clears his throat. “It goes like this;‘How high can the tower whale breach?As high as the strength of his tail will take him.How tall can the tower vine grow?As tall as the deepest part of the sea.How far can a good ship sail?As far as the strong wind will blow her.’Have you ever heard it, General?”“Hmm. Can’t say I have. It is a very pretty piece though. You should share it with the Captain, he’s got quite a thing for the words of Hollow Trees.”Petsune is surprised by this. “Does he really? I never knew.”“Oh yes, yes. He’s always chasing after the drowned things. Collects their wisdom or some such drivel.” Petsune contemplates this new aspect of the Captain, then Tar speaks again. “Now. You were hoping to get thoughts, were you?”“What? Oh yes, please. And I shall share mine, if you like.”“Hmm… well, it seems to speak to strength, of a sort. You know, grow as tall as you are able, be as strong as you might, and keep your ship as well as you can. Keep all these things in order, and you shall prosper, I should think. But perhaps if I had more time to, erm, ruminate on the matter.”“I have been thinking on this poem for a while and I think perhaps it’s about circumstances and control.”“Oh? Go on.”“Yes, I think so. The first part is something that can be completely controlled, one’s personal preparation. So if we are the whale and we wish to breach high, we must strengthen our tail and prepare for the task. This is within our control, regardless of context.”“Hmm, yes I can see that. I agree. And the second part?”Petsune allows the silence to sit for a moment before speaking again. He wants to give Tarlatan time to process each thing he says.“The second part I think is about circumstances that are sometimes outside of one’s control. ‘How tall can the tower vine grow? As tall as the deepest part of the sea.’ The vine is prepared and capable of growing, but if it’s circumstance doesn’t permit it, then it will not grow very tall. But it is possible for a tower vine to break free and grow in a deeper part of the sea. So it is still partially able to be controlled.”“Hmm. And the third part?”Now Petsune speaks softly and directly to Tarlatan. “I believe the third to be about things that are entirely out of our control. ‘How far can a good ship sail? As far as the strong wind will blow her.’ The ship is prepared, the circumstance is ideal, and yet, the wind may not blow. There are some things that only the Saints can control.” General Tar doesn’t say anything, appearing to stare through the toes of his boots. Petsune stands quietly and speaks, in a very gentle voice. “Things like war and death… Sometimes you’ve done everything you possibly can to ensure the right outcome, but the Will of the Saints proves unknowable.”The atmosphere remains gentle and still, Tarlatan mulling over Pet’s words. The General speaks then, obviously considering Petsune’s words. “It may be so, yet I fear there are some things we people bear full responsibility for…”Petsune nods just slightly and prepares to leave the General with his thoughts. “Perhaps, or at least the responsibility of the consequences. In that, I would say you have paid your due,” Petsune says a parting word before he leaves the hold, “Thank you, General Tarlatan, for your thoughts.”He looks up at Petsune with shining eyes and sniffs. “No, my dear boy, thank you. That was a beautiful poem, and I shall think on… on what you’ve said. Thank you.”Petsune walks back up to the main deck and breathes in a lungful of the fresh ocean air as it blows coolly across his face.(Previous Chapter Thirteen) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Fifteen) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter First Interlude) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Fourteen)15th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the 29th Year of King Bornidin the Young’s Reign, 126th Reckoned YearWill you meet with me,Below the deep blue sea,Down where the tower vine grow?Yea, I will meet with you,Deep under the ocean blue,Down where the light cannot go.Find me carried there,To the forests oh so fair,Down amongst the tall tower vine.Yea, I will find you, love,And carry you to stars above,Up into the light oh so divine.“Funeral Dirge”, From Church of the Deep Liturgy, Written by Saint Delód in the Unreckoned YearsFirst Mate Mavis has one eyebrow cocked like a muzzleloader as he stares at the strange creature crawling the decks of the Painful Lady.“What is it?” He says to no one in particular.The Big Man makes a mirthful chuckle then says, “Why, it’s a garpus, Mavis. You’ve never seen one then?”“Seen one? I’ve never even heard of it. What’s it for?”“Oh, aye? They’re from the Slick Rock Shores back home in the Keep. I owed Cheese a garpus from an old game of Runny. She picked the pot cause she never thought I’d get one,” Now he turns to a disbelieving Cheese and says, “but I did!” Now he bellows out a deep and uproarious laugh that everyone finds contagious. The garpus has four stout legs covered in fine fur, each limb sticking out of the impenetrable round shell that encases its body. It is currently walking in circles sniffing Bungle, while Bungle sniffs it. Cheese says offhand to Benafield, “Ya might’ve found that thing, but that jus’ means I’ll have to pick somethin’ harder next time.” The Big Man’s mirth seems imperturbable as he watches the pig-nosed creature amble about.Sprig says from somewhere unseen,“Why’s it look like that?”Rather than anyone trying to find Sprig, The Big Man simply answers, “Like what?”“Like a furry pig got stuck in a turtle shell.”Petsune laughs aloud at this, along with Shushilah and Cheese. Bor has even emerged from his aromatic cave, a cup of steaming coffee in hand, as black as the Strange Sea. Bor looks to see what all the fuss is about. He stares at the garpus with a faint interest and The Big Man shoos him away, saying, “No, no. Don’t even think of it. Tussle’s not for eating.”Mavis’s eyebrow seems to reach even more perilous angles. “Tussle?”“Aye,” says Benafield, “she’s crew now.”Mavis levels out his eyebrows, throws up his hands in exasperation, and walks away from the creature. They all laugh at the Big Man, who is down in the face of Tussle, insisting that she is in fact a very good garpus. Tussle makes no objections to the conclusion.The Big Man turns and points to Petsune and Cheese. “Now I’ve paid up. You two don’t forget what you’re owing. Ya both owe me a feather, don’t think I forgot, ‘cause I’ve not.”Petsune raises his hands in mock placation, inwardly deciding that he really would get that feather, somehow. The Captain comes crawling up over the railing of the side of the boat, having been hanging on for an unknown amount of time. Petsune is about to inquire when Chapel holds up a solitary finger over his lips. The Captain points to a barrel with a small hole in it, and proceeds to sneak toward it. Chapel flings the lid off and yells out, “Got you!” But inside the barrel is only a tin cup. The tin cup proceeds to laugh with a thin echoed version of Sprig’s laughter. Chapel picks up the cup and finds a thin reed attached to the bottom of it. Petsune watches the Captain as he follows the thin blueish-black reed out of the barrel and to a crate behind it. Just then, Sprig pops up out of the crate laughing uncontrollably now.Chapel appears impressed and Petsune is baffled. The Captain commends Sprig on another round won. “Not bad, Sprig. I can’t seem to win at all lately.”Petsune walks over and asks, “How did you manage that?”Sprig grins a childish and wholesome smile. “Sharksbane! The man said it were good for keeping away sharks, on account of it makin’ noise seem louder, but I found a better use!” Sprig looks very proud as he shows off his tin cup and bucket connected by a reed of sharksbane. He climbs out of the crate and skampers off. Petsune is constantly amazed at the boy, which brings something to the forefront of his mind. Petsune approaches the Captain’s raised posterior as he reaches for something in the bottom of the barrel.Petsune speaks to the Captain's trousers, “May I talk to you? Privately?”Chapel removes himself from the barrel and turns around. He seems to find the idea of privacy aboard a small ship funny, but he shrugs and steps away with Petsune. The two of them walk up the steps to the helm where Mavis retreated to. Once at the stern of the ship, Petsune says, “I’ve been wanting to talk about Sprig’s propensity for, uh, borrowing things. I heard him say that he was practicing. Is this really something we should be encouraging?”Chapel looks out over the receding water behind the ship and says, “Oh, absolutely. I’m the one that told him to practice.”Petsune appears scandalized by the idea, until Chapel looks over at him with a wink, “Sprig isn’t practicing stealing, exactly, he wants to become a Finger Weaver - that’s his lifelong dream. I tell him to practice using his hands every chance he gets. Plus, he returns whatever he takes. I think. It’s been a while since I was in the Tapestry.”At this, Petsune feels somewhat abashed. He hadn’t realized Chapel would take such an interest in the personal lives of his crew. Pet knows that Chapel is kind and caring, but he didn’t consider whether that extended beyond ship life. Chapel wanders off while the rest of the crew dote on Tussle. The Captain has a knack for circumventing his expectations, and once again he got the better of Pet.Petsune rejoins the crew surrounding the garpus. Bungle yaps at Tussle and receives nasally snorts in return. Petsune wonders aloud, “What are the odds that a passing ship would have one of these things…”Shushilah responds, despite Petsune thinking he hadn’t spoken aloud. “Is not so hard to find. We are close to the Border of the Keep. The real question is, what did you give them for it Big Man, is the real question?”The Big Man doesn’t avert his attention from the all-consuming gaze of Tussle. “Didn’t have to give anything. It was the Bowsun’s garpus, an he loved shanty’s. A song for a garpus, aye? Hah!” Tussle doesn’t even wince or cower at Benafield’s mountainous laugh. Shushilah remarks to the whole group, “We should stop and trade with more passing ships. Is a good idea, I’m thinking. We wouldn’t have to make port so much.”Chapel appears again and enters the conversation as though he never left. “Speaking of making port so much, we’ll be arriving at Misty Shoals Mass in about a day. shallowback’s graze all throughout the Green Sea. But we’re heading to the border waters, and shallowback’s love the Misty Shoals most, so be on the lookout.” The only kind of whale Petsune has ever seen is a pin whale, which are predominantly found in the Sea of Saints where Thune Mass is. He has no idea what a shallowback even looks like. Petsune walks up to the foredeck, hearing and smelling the work of Bor below. He approaches Pickett and asks him without any preamble, “Why do shallowback’s love the Misty Shoals so much?”Picket stares down over the portside prow. “Shallowback’s are algae eaters, and they typically eat the algae that grows on the tower vines. The Misty Shoals are warm enough however that algae grows on the surface of the water, making it a favorite grazing pasture for them.”Petsune appears thoughtful and says, “Thanks, Pickett.” Before he walks away. Pickett doesn’t look up from the water rolling off the bow in mesmerizing patterns. As Petsune walks toward the steps however, he hears Pickett softly speak. “Did you… want to know anything else?”Petsune is glad they are both facing away from each other, because his face plainly shows the shock of the question. He walks back over to where Pickett is leaning over the gunnel and casually says, “What’s the biggest thing in the entire ocean?”“Well do you mean a living thing, or anything, because there are very large underwater rock formations in both the Slick Sea and the Broad Sea.”“Oh, um, living thing, I guess.”“The Thünadín, also called the deepfoot, are by far the largest of creatures living in any sea.”“I thought they were just a myth?”Pickett doesn’t respond this time, and Pet doesn’t prod him. Petsune has learned better how to converse with him. This is the first time, however, that Pickett has initiated a conversation. Petsune feels honored but doesn’t want to spoil the moment, so he says thanks again and then descends onto the main deck. He doesn’t see as he descends the steps, but Pickett turns and watches him go briefly. He turns back to watching the Lady carve its way through the Green Sea. As he watches the hull of the ship below the greenish blue water, he sees several wakefolders swimming along under the boat. The ten foot fish swims about, flipping over onto its back as if in enjoyment. Pickett smiles as he watches.(Previous Chapter First Interlude) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Fourteen) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Twelve) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Thirteen)Excerpt, ‘Elections of the Fellposts of Broadfell Keep’Kolyada who ruled 15 years, from age 43 to 58 years, died of unknown disease, aged 58 yearsVenk-Tegg, brother of Kolyada, ruled 10 years, who died of dysentery, aged 51 yearsMargolefin Whale Bitten, wealthiest merchant, ruled 11 years, died in a whaling accident, aged 43 yearsGoardeen, self elected, ruled 6 years until the Great Schism, cast out and excommunicated, death unknown, aged unknown.The Great Schism: when the Fāy-Núl Tör seceded from the Sanctum of SoulsHelBenorg first true elected Fellpost, ruled 51 years, from 29 to 71, forfeited the position, died in bed of old age, aged 91 yearsTradition of Names established by Fellpost Helbenorg, that all men Fellpost will bear his father HelBenafort’s name and all women will bear his mother HinBriga’s nameHelBenaVindine, second true elected Fellpost, ruled 22 years, from age 20 to age 42, who died in the construction of the Mines of Vohfay, aged 47 yearsHelBenTorkinlok, third true elected Fellpost, ruled 29 years, from age 20 to age 49, who died in a drunken squabble, aged 56 yearsLaw of Reckoning is instituted by King Wonum the Wise of Dintash, official records are begun in Broadfell Keep by HelBenTorkinlokHinBrimiya, fourth true elected Fellpost, ruled 31 years, from age 20 to age 51, died of old age, aged 71 yearsHelBenshimiss, fifth true elected Fellpost, ruled 18 years, from age 20 until age 38, died in landslide on the Cliffs of Thunigh Moon, aged 46 yearsHinBridisha, sixth true elected Fellpost, ruled 33 years, from age 20 until age 53, passed the Fellpost to firstborn son upon true election, died of old age, aged 76 yearsHelBenledore, seventh true elected Fellpost, son of Fellpost HinBridisha and who has ruled 43 years, since age 20 to current age 63,Saints Be PraisedFrom The Lineages of the Four Nations, written by Maliabar Handwell in the 93rd Reckoned Year and Revised in the 125th Reckoned YearExcerpt From ‘Common Larger Sea Life’Wake Folders are currently classified as a large fish, though they bear many similarities to a whale. They breathe through a blowhole on their dorsal side, and they possess a horizontal caudal tail fin. Wake folders are extremely friendly and are often seen playing in the wakes of ships or swimming along beside them. They are known to be a variety of colors and patterns, ranging from black to a pinkish white, depending on the sea they are found in. The largest recorded wake folder was 15 feet long.Ginder Rays are the largest of the rays, reaching wingspans of several towers across. They possess four wings, a dorsal set and a pectoral set, and use primarily the dorsal set for movement. The pectoral set is often folded down to create a funnel that forces fish into their mouth which lay on the underside of the ginder ray. They also possess a large straight tail that extends off their body for several towers, however it does not have any poison. Ginders are typically harmless, save for the occasional tendency to capsize smaller vessels in their curiosity.Fisher Sharks are a deep-dwelling shark, possessing large black eyes for sight in those black abyssal waters. However, they are frequently sighted near the surface of the water during the three days of the blacksmiths phase of the moon. They possess two unique characteristics among sharks: a large torso-length frill that appears to be for breathing, in place of gills, and a cluster of tentacles on their face. The fisher shark was named for its method of hunting larger prey by spearing smaller fish on one of its two lure tentacles. It is thought that the other shorter tentacles are used to pull prey into its mouth, perhaps even fanning outward to camouflage the fisher shark as seaweed or coral.Slick Skin Sharks are long and thin, reaching lengths of 15 to 20 feet. They are most commonly found near sunken vessels and are generally not aggressive. They possess many fins, allowing for high maneuverability and they tend to swim in groups of three or four. They have four pectoral fins, three dorsal fins at different angles, four pelvic fins, and a standard caudal tail fin. All of their fins, save for the caudal, are capable of folding tight against the body for increased speed. They were likely named for their speed and maneuverability, as their skin is surprisingly rough and coarse. They are easily distinguished from other sharks and fish by their many fins and their long whiskers that stem from beside their mouth.Balehorns are six feet tall on average. They are very slow swimmers, resembling a twisted cluster of rocks more than a fish. Their head is directly above their curled tail, much like a human’s head is above their feet. The only fins a balehorn has are two weak pectoral fins on its side used to steer in slight movements, and a wavy dorsal fin that undulates for slow propulsion. Despite being one of the slowest fish in the ocean, it is still dangerous. Balehorns possess a sharp and hard horn on their face which they use to crack open shells and rocks in search of morsels. Another noteworthy thing about them is their strange habit of holding an object in the curl of their tail. The reason for this is unknown, and as the object varies from balehorn to balehorn, the purpose is also as yet, unknown.Boulderclaws are the much larger and more common variant of pebbleclaws, standing 15 to 20 feet tall. Where pebbleclaws are small and produce an expensive thread-like material, boulderclaws are masters of camoflauge. They are often mistaken for a rock or reef, which enables them to stay still and catch fish or rays. This is because they attach materials to their shell using a sticky secretion that they spit up. They often stay near balehorns, using the rubble from balehorn’s digging as their camoflauge. This is the boulderclaw’s chosen method of hunting, rather than spinning a sticky web like the smaller pebbleclaws do. Both the pebbleclaw and boulderclaw possess shells that resemble rocks, however only the boulderclaws camoflauge the rest of their exterior.Gale Rag are a lesser-known eel, despite being extremely common. This is likely because they live and hunt from burrows in the sand. They are very intelligent, often using debris or vegetation to hide their burrow until they wish to strike. They are not very thick or dense in size, being as thick as an arm, but are categorized as large sea life due to their sheer length. An average gale rag burrow can extend horizontally or vertically for a full tower. They do not intentionally harm humans, however because they are ambush hunters, and have been known to unwittingly bite those clumsy enough to disturb a burrow.Translated From the Filkish Text, Sea Life of Yath, written by Remull Mawgard in the 100th Reckoned Year and Revised in the 124th Year Excerpt, ‘Official Commission of Expansion and Exploration’To the Mines of Vohfay,I, Fellpost HelBenledore, do decree that the Mines of Vohfay be increased in depth by the addition of 20 and 5 tunnels. I hereby commission further digging into the mountains. This commission gives the high foreman of the mine the right to delegate any foreman to any new digging deemed necessary.By order of the Fellpost HelBenledoreTo the Caves of Vohmun-Steeck,I, Fellpost HelBenledore, do decree that the Caves of Vohmun-Steeck be searched out and plumbed in their entirety. I hereby commission an expedition to search out these caves, and to map out their passages thoroughly and fully. This commission gives the chosen expedition leader the right to select any miner or worker of Vohfay to assist them in the task of mapping the Caves.By order of the Fellpost HelBenledoreFrom Correspondence to the Mines, dictated by Fellpost HelBenledore, written by High Priest Benkutsawn of the Sanctum of Souls in the 89th Reckoned YearExcerpt, ‘Phases of the Night-Sky Celestial’…It is known that the phases have certain effects on the sea, as well as sea life. The phases each last three days, completing a full cycle of phases once a month. The phases are named after their resemblance and follow common trades; cobbler’s moon, farmer’s moon, carpenter’s moon, tailor’s moon, queen's moon and king’s moon, blacksmith’s moon, and the three Saint moons.The Cobbler’s Moon is when the moon's full face is lit completely by the blue-white light of the Saints sun. This phase has been associated with steeper and larger waves and has also been known to draw deep sea creatures to the surface. The Farmer’s Moon is the phase that resembles a golden sickle shape from the light of the Second sun on the right side, with blue-white Saints sunlight illuminating the rest of the moon. The Carpenter’s Moon is the phase resembling a thick gold wood shaving with darker bark on the edge. It is a fully white moon lit by the Saint’s sun, with the right side being lit by the yellow-orange light from the Second sun and a tinge of crimson along the right-most edge. The Tailor's Moon is the phase resembling a patchwork of colors. The left side of the moon is lit by the blue-white light of the Saints sun, the middle is lit by the yellow-orange light of the Second sun, and the right side is lit by the red glow of the Small sun.The Queen’s Moon is the phase that resembles a crown of gold with a ruby set into it. The left side of the moon is lit by the yellow-orange glow of the Second sun and the middle is lit by the red glow of the Small sun, which dims to a dull gray at the right edge. The King’s Moon is the phase resembling the blood of the kingly line. The left side is lit by the red glow of the Small sun, which dims to a dull gray, then black on the right-most edge. The Blacksmith’s Moon is the opposite phase of the Cobbler, when the moon remains a dull gray-black color, not receiving any of the light from the three suns. It is also associated with calmer seas and more activity from the creatures that emit their own light, such as millie or ghost fish. The three phases of the partially blue-white moon are ascribed to the Saints, though which Saint is ascribed which phase is a matter of religious preference. This completes the lunar cycle, returning to the fully lit Cobbler’s Moon.From Astronomy and Astrology, written by Orson Kowull in the 33rd Reckoned Year(Previous Chapter Twelve) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Thirteen)Thanks so much for being here. Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Eleven) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter First Interlude)13th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the 29th Year of King Bornidin the Young’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year1In the beginning, Yath existed in ceaseless light. Yath spake, and a measure of light inhabited Saint Wōde. 2Yath spake again and another measure of light inhabited Saint Ründ. The third child of Yath was ill-begotten, for no measure of light inhabited Saint Vésh. Yath spake once more and a measure of light inhabited Saint Delód. 3The heavens were now darkened by the creation of the Saints, and so they each sought to please Yath in return. 4Wōde, firstborn of Yath and foremost of the Saints, poured out a measure of his own light to create three great lights for Yath. 5Ründ, second of Yath’s children, poured out a portion of his own light to create forests and plants and things that grow from the ground. 6Delód, fourth of Yath’s children, poured out a portion of her own light and filled the seas with creatures that swim and breathe and live. 7But Vésh, third of Yath’s children and ill-begotten, had no light from which to create, and so unmade the gifts of the Saints in jealous rage. 8Forests and plants and things that grow from the ground wilt by her gaze, things that swim and breathe and live end by her word, 9and the three great lights are stolen every night by her hand…From ‘First Book of Forgotten Things’ Chapter 1 verses 1-9, Order of Loss, Written by Saint Ründ in the Unreckoned YearsThe Painful Lady dips and bobs over the wakes created by passing ships. Ginders Mass is far busier than Thune Mass was, boasting four separate ports, each devoted to a kind of ware. The fruit and produce port is where they docked, apparently called the Garden Docks, and Petsune is amazed at the feverish activity in this place alone. He watches as tall pulley systems are worked from the dock to offload heavier cargo. There are ships that seem to be veritable floating forests with how much plant life is crowding their decks. He wonders at how spectacular the fish market must be, which is apparently called Hangdog Dock. After helping to unload the crates he and Pickett sat aside, the crew is given leave to explore Ginders. Mavis looks every one of them in the eye and says, “Be back by the Second sun's set, or I’ll leave you here.” They’re all pretty sure he’s joking.Petsune is invited along by several crew members, but he decides to take this time to speak with Chapel. The propositions raised by the Captain are heavy on his mind. Petsune is afraid he would be far too inept as a captain. His time aboard the Lady has been his first on any ship that he can remember. Petsune grabs hold of the rigging and begins heaving himself upward, toward the furled green masts. He gets about halfway up and pauses to gaze about and catch his breath. He can see the entirety of the Garden Docks and markets now, and even some of the mingling crew members. Petsune continues upward until he reaches the crow’s nest that sways at the top of the mast, entering through the hole in the center. The nest is empty, but Petsune thought it would be. He watches the market, writhing and crawling with people about their business. He cannot make out any of the shouting or hawking, it is all just a buzzing din from up here.Petsune sees products being inspected and money changing hands. It feels familiar as he looks on, but it doesn’t feel like home down there. The more he thinks about it, Thune Mass never much felt like home either. He has always felt like an outsider, though some made him feel more welcome than others. But it hasn’t been that way aboard The Painful Lady. In fact, he has felt so welcome and included that he thought it strange and suspicious. He searches the extent of his vision and locates the Ginders Sanctum of Souls, radiating gilded splendor that stretches into the sky. He feels no pang of longing for their strictures or separation. He cannot see the Order of Loss anywhere, but they never have a building, opting instead to live as the homeless do. Petsune does descry someone wearing ragged clothes and the signature belt however, and he watches them for a moment.From his vantage in the crow’s nest, he cannot hear what is said, but it is as though he hears the words just the same. The Empty Hand is speaking with a disheveled blisker addict, likely offering food and fellowship. Petsune feels sympathy, but he does not long for the Order either. Finally, he gazes about and sees just the edge of the Church of the Deep. It floats alongside Ginders, attached with a fancy bridge. He pictures the Church on Thune Mass, with its Window to the Deep and beautiful stained glass. He does find himself longing to stare down into the Window, and he does miss Father Haltur, but he has no desire to return. The wonder of staring down into the depths through the Window is magnified tenfold every time he leans over the railing of the Lady out at sea. Father Haltur was kind, but even he treated Petsune as an outsider.The masts of the taller ships sway in and out of Petsune’s view as he takes in the sight of Ginders Mass. On the edge of the Garden markets, he sees a series of overgrown ships that have been permanently docked and now function as shop fronts. A fruit bearing tree seems to grow from every porthole and opening, giving the dock its name. As he gazes about he sees a few patrolling guards, their bright blue colors making them stand out. Petsune is unsurprised to hear a soft knock on the bottom of the crow’s nest. He turns and finds the Captain climbing into the nest, a weathered smile on his face. Chapel speaks first,“Well, I see you’ve been doing that considering I told you to do. Not a bad spot for it either.”“I have been thinking about it. A lot, actually. I think I have an answer, of a sort.”“Okay. Well, let’s hear it.”“I will stay aboard the Painful Lady, on three conditions.”Chapel tilts his head, curious, before he prods, “Okay…”Petsune looks out at the markets again and catches sight of Shushilah and The General ogling some colorful fruits. He continues watching them as he says,“Promise you will never lie to me.”Chapel considers very briefly then says, “Done.”Petsune turns to face Chapel and looks deep into his soul,“Now tell me you are a good man.”At this, Chapel’s smile fades down to the barest ghost of a smirk and he says, “I hope I am. I try to be.”Petsune stares for a few moments longer and then nods in acceptance. Chapel raises an eyebrow and asks, “And the third condition?”“That you remain Captain of the Painful Lady.”“What?”“I don’t know anything about ships or leading or anything. This crew - your crew - they respect you, even if you don’t see it. They trust you, and I trust you, even if you don’t trust yourself. I want to be a part of the crew, but only if you are it’s Captain.”Chapel stares at Petsune for a long time, then down at his own hands. Eventually, he speaks carefully,“If that’s what you want, I will do my best.”“It is.”The two of them sit silently for a while, watching the strange patterns of the people below as they coalesce and separate. Petsune speaks vaguely while watching the patrons,“So, what is the purpose of this ship? What do we do?”Chapel answers absentmindedly, “Do you have a purpose, Pet?”“Uh, I don’t know…”“Good. Fear the man with a purpose. We just go where the wind blows and the Saints Will.”“So, we just… drift?”“Basically. I like to think of it more as roaming than drifting.”“And righting wrongs? Is that a part of your roaming?”Chapel looks at Petsune and smirks, “On a good day.”“Speaking of: you never said how you met Harlan?”“Oh him? We were at a public event when a platform gave out, and I caught him - saved him, I guess. Been with me ever since.”“Mhm. Sprig said that you saved him from being hanged.”“Yeah, that’s what I said.”“Perhaps I should’ve been more specific when I said don’t lie to me.”Chapel stands and says, “I don’t think it’s a lie to say something nicely. Besides, he didn’t deserve it.” Then he winks and climbs from the nest into branches surrounding it, disappearing in his descent. Petsune looks back out into the Garden Markets and sees Shushilah deftly steering an oblivious Tarlatan away from the millie juice and rum stand. He searches the hustle and bustle below, seeing Cheese and The Big Man watch a Finger Weaver perform. Despite carefully scanning the crowd, he never sees a sign of Sprig, though he suspects a few empty pockets and purses are bound to be discovered later. He makes a mental note to bring this habit up to Chapel. Petsune can’t see, but he’s sure that Bor is in the nearby Hangdog markets, haggling for some fresh gipps or tagfin. Petsune thinks of the crew and finds himself longing for the open sea and life with them, and he knows he made the right choice. In a spur-of-the-moment decision, Petsune climbs down from the crow’s nest and wanders out into the busy market toward where he saw the Empty Hand. He finds them, finishing speaking with a bell beetle addict. Petsune approaches and sees the man is somehow old and young looking, in a strange ageless sort of way. Petsune is about to speak but the man silences him with a single hand, smiling a crafty smile as he does so. “I know… Now, why don’t you come with me. I need some help handing out bread to the poor.”(Previous Chapter Eleven) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter First Interlude)(PS. the hardcover has three extra stories, and an exclusive cover art designed by ~ me.) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Ten) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twelve)13th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the 29th Year of King Bornidin the Young’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year…Whisper to me a killing wordSoft as death, as light as the bones of a brittle bird.Glance at me with grave concernBrief as breath, as faint as the face of a lover spurned.Sing with me a silent verseSweet as borrowed time, as desirable as dirt…From ‘Dance of the Dintish Maid’, Finger Weaver tale, written by Galton Caster in the 42nd Reckoned YearPetsune wakes up to find Bungle curled up alongside him. While Petsune tries to extricate himself from the covers, he gets his foot caught in something and ends up falling out for the second morning. He groans, curses, and looks around to see if any of the crew witnessed it this time. Bungle chuffs out a small snore, but he is the only other presence in the cabin. Petsune untangles his foot from the sheet, and finds it is bright blue. When Pet looks back at the chest of fabrics, he sees a wide array of colors. Thumbing through the fabrics, Petsune realizes he has been sleeping in the different colored sails that a vessel flies to identify itself. Bungle wakes up, yawns and stretches, then hops down to lay on the floor. Petsune knows the red sails of a whaling ship is being flown now, and in the chest, he finds the green fabric of a merchant vessel, the white of a medical barge, yellow sails for a personal craft or pleasure barge, and black for a plague ship. The blue that his foot got caught in is for the Dintash Navy, though he doesn’t see a gold symbol on it that would indicate a King’s Ship.Petsune rifles through the fabrics but he doesn’t find the brown of a Broadfell Navy ship, or the purple of a Filkish Navy ship. After the fabrics have been thoroughly rifled and piled on the floor, Chapel walks into the room.“Wow. Love what you’ve done with the place, Pet.”“Chapel, did you know I was sleeping on the sails?”“Well, yeah? I threw them in there, so you had a place to sleep.”“I know you said you had permits for the colors, but how could this ship possibly be considered a medical barge? Or part of the Navy?”“Shushilah knows medicine from his father back in the Oullman. The blue sails were already on board when I got the ship.”“Stole.”“Borrowed. With the intent of returning it to the rightful owner.”“Whatever. My point is, won’t these blue sails be a problem when we dock at Ginders? If they do a random ship inspection.”“Never been a problem before. And before you ask, yes, they saw the blue sails. Listen, I need you to head down into the hold and help Pickett move everything we’re offloading over to the bottom of the steps, okay? We’ll be at Ginders before the Saints sun reaches the water.”“Oh, okay… Yes, alright.”Chapel winks and leaves with a parting word, “Thanks, Pet.”Petsune watches him leave, then begins restoring the sails to their chest. He feels a bit foolish for assuming the worst with the sails. Every time Petsune brings a question to Chapel, it ends up having already been considered and answered. He finishes repacking the sails into the chest, then makes his way out onto the main deck. The entire crew seems to be at work moving crates, tying knots, or cleaning something. Petsune quickly traverses the deck and descends below into the hold. He quickly locates Pickett, standing stock still amid towers of crates. He approaches him and gestures to the stacks of crates,“We need to move all of these?”But Pickett stares at his feet and only responds with a clipped, “No.”So Petsune prods, “Okay? Which ones do we need to move then?”Pickett simply points to a single tower of crates while continuing to stare toward the floor.“This stack? Alright, I’ll grab the top one, you can grab the next.”Pickett doesn’t respond, so Petsune grabs the crate off the top. Pickett grabs the next one and they walk over to the steps where Pickett sets down his crate.Petsune sits his crate atop Pickett’s, beside the bottom step. Inside each crate are piles of ripe and colorful fruits, some Petsune has never seen before. There are yellow feepears and bright shiny oranges, squidberries on the vine, large round whale fruits, and several kinds of grapples. Pickett walks back over to the crates and picks up another, maintaining his silent downward gaze. Petsune tries to engage Pickett in conversation a few more times, but to no avail. He remembers Chapel saying something about Pickett not really talking unless it was about sea life. In an attempt to make the time go by faster, Petsune asks,“So… um, do you know how big a tower whale can get?”And to his surprise, Pickett answers right away, “Tower whales can reach a length of 7 towers.” Sensing that he’s getting somewhere, Petsune asks, “And a tower is 100 feet, right?” but Pickett doesn’t respond.The two of them work in silence for a bit before Petsune tries again,“How many types of whales are there?”Pickett responds to the floor, “There are 5 known kinds.“Oh, I only know 2 whales. What are the five known kinds?”Almost right away Pickett responds in his rote manner, all while sorting crates, “Tower whale, called a tall whale in Broadfell Keep. They are the biggest of the whale species. They can grow up to 7 towers long. They are named after the vine because they like to swim through tower vine forests and are often seen with vines trailing behind them. The shallowback whale is the second biggest whale at 5 towers in length and is sometimes called a farmer’s whale because of its surface grazing habits. It is the only kind of whale that uses two long breathing trunks rather than a blow hole. Could you grab this crate please thank you.”Petsune barely registers the request, as it’s given without any break in tone or speed from the information. He stammers out a response while grabbing the crate, “Oh, um, this one? Yes, I’ve got it, uh, good. Carry on?” But Pickett is already walking away.Pickett carries a crate toward the steps and Petsune follows with the designated one. Pickett continues speaking, “The third largest whale is the pin whale at 4 to 5 towers long, called a bristleback in the Broadfell Keep or needle whale in the Filkish Oullman. It possesses two large tusks for goring it’s prey or threatening ships, as well as needle-like bristles on it’s back.”Petsune never knew any of this, but he finds himself believing every word. Perhaps it’s the confidence that Pickett says it with. Pickett continues with his list, “the fourth largest whale is the red whale at 4 to 5 towers in length, named for its pinkish-red hue. It secretes oil from the large porous holes on its back, and is harvested for the oil in its internal glands. The smallest whale is the sun whale and was recently discovered and named. Not much is known about them other than that they live in frigid waters and sunbathe to keep warm. The few sightings have been of specimens a single tower in length.”When Pickett stops speaking, Pet is amazed at the depth of information he knows. Petsune says,“Wow, Pickett. You know quite a lot about whales. Where did you learn all of this?”Pickett looks up briefly at Petsune’s face for the first time, then back down, “Books.”“That’s very impressive. Do you read a lot?” But Pickett doesn’t respond, opting instead to walk up the steps and out of the hold. Petsune assumes this means they are finished moving crates, so he ascends into the light of mid-day. When emerges from the dingey light of the hold he is met with the blinding sting of the Saint’s sun low in the sky. As he rubs his eyes, he realizes there are sails all around. It is a skyline of billowing fabrics, dominated by green but with splashes of red and blue and yellow. Petsune almost forgot what life is like on a Mass.They haven’t reached the dock yet, but there are plenty of ships in the waters surrounding the mass. Some are permanent fixtures in the seascape, others are seeking goods or selling wares. Every Mass is made from tower vine that becomes tangled into large rafts, but some are augmented with man-made docks and bridges. This means that there are often new masses appearing that are not on any map or inhabited. Petsune is curious to know what Ginders Mass looks like, so he makes his way to the bow of the ship. It is hard to see through all of the shifting sails and masts, but Ginders appears to be more manufactured than Thune was. As Petsune looks on, he can make out wooden walkways and docks, each fastened to the Mass and floating independently. Suddenly Mavis is shouting out commands to hold, tighten, and raise various things, and Petsune remembers himself.Petsune helps The Big Man ready the gangway to be lowered, while other crew members bustle back and forth. The Painful Lady seems to glide delicately through the water and the surrounding ships. It appears that Ginders also boasts various docks, each devoted to a ware rather than a ship size. Mavis has evidently been here before, as he deftly manipulates the ship wheel and stoically watches the prow. The roots that stem from the Lady’s railings down to the sea make for a buffer against swaying ships and rocking vessels. Within minutes they are safely ensconced between two larger ships, one with green sails and the other with yellow. Petsune and The Big Man begin slowly lowering the gang way through a series of pulleys. When it is fully down, it is nearly parallel to the surface of the water, meaning Ginders Mass sits a bit higher than Thune. The noise and smells and chaos of the Mass are already overwhelming Petsune, who has become used to the quiet breeze of open water. He looks around for Chapel, but sees no sign whatsoever, fondly remembering where he found the Captain two days prior.(Previous Chapter Ten) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Twelve)(PS. the hardcover comes with a special cover I designed and three bonus stories) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Nine) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Eleven)12th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the 29th Year of King Bornidin the Young’s Reign, 126th Reckoned YearThe Vánüm language, or the Elder Tongue: Dín, sometimes stylized as Din, or Deen, definition: to dwell, live, reside in or on, to house within (rare)From ‘Captain's Log’ of the Painful Lady, written by Captain Chapel in the 115th Reckoned YearThe Painful Lady drops anchor alongside the ship they spotted. It is a larger ship than the Lady, but very plainly featured. The name painted along the stern is the Good Lend, and it bears the green sails of a merchant vessel. The Good Lend raised the flags of trade and distress, so Mavis brought the ship in close. The Big Man and Shushilah lay the gangway across to the merchant ship. Benafield is still grumbling over the postponement of the midday meal, but he is friendly to the ship hands that wave from the deck of the Good Lend. The Big Man, Shushilah, and Pet all cross the upward slanted gangway and step onto the main deck of the Lend. Mavis tasked both Shushilah and the Big Man with carrying out any trade they see fit. Pet is simply curious to see how this type of interaction unfolds, so he quietly follows.The captain and the first mate greet the three of them, though they appear to be anxious. Petsune listens as the captain speaks. “Afternoon. Name’s Cap’n Tuss, an’ this here’s my first mate, Kremwin. We do ‘ppreciate your stoppin’. My first mate is a drowned dullard—”“I ain’t the one—”Captain Tuss smacks the back of his first mate’s head multiple times. “You shut it now! I’m tryin’ to fix yer mess. I oughta hand ye over to the Coldors, ye addlepated millie!”Petsune is caught completely off-guard by the outburst. He nearly forgot the total authority a captain has aboard their own ship. Chapel is so kind and laid back that he forgot the kind of power he has over the crew. Pet tries not to scowl as he listens to the rest of the exchange. Captain Tuss speaks on, “As I were sayin’, my first mate left our ice box open an’ our ice is nearly all melted now. Do you have any to spare? We jus’ need enough to keep the fish cold ‘til we get Thune.”Benafield doesn’t speak right away, using his size as a slight intimidation factor. “Aye, we do. And what will you be giving us for it?”The captain winces slightly and shoots a scathing look at his first mate. “We’ll give whatever ya like, within reason. If them fish go bad, I’ll be out more than a few bones…”The Big Man smiles suddenly, which does more to unsettle captain Tuss than anything. “Aye, and you are in luck! We are only needing two small things, just now. Coffee and fickwill ink. Oh, and a plate.”Captain Tuss is first shocked, then skeptical. “That’s all then? Truly?”“Aye, that is all. You have them?”Captain Tuss shoos off his first mate to fetch the items and Shushilah begins walking back over to fetch the ice. “Yes, we have it, we have it. May the Saints bless you! We can’t thank ye enough!” Benafield scoffs slightly at this.When the exchange is completed, the Good Lend sails off as Benafield waves. He turns around and hands the bartered-for plate to Pet. “This is for you. Bor does not like it when we show up to a meal with no dish.”Petsune stares at the plate, surprised and grateful that Benafield thought of him. After the meal, Petsune stores his plate on his make-shift bed, then he returns to the main deck. Sprig is regaling Cheese with an exaggerated story of Petsune’s poor attempts at squashing pitmites, including dramatized reenactments. Pet watches, amused. The next few hours consist of tailing one or another crew member and performing redundant checks on various knots, crates, and pegs. When next he looks up, Petsune sees the Second sun descending rapidly toward the liquid horizon. The first and brightest of the three suns, the Saints sun, has already disappeared. Pet turns away from the bow and walks back down to the main deck. He descends the steps, and Bor comes out from the kitchen area below to ring a small bell that must mean mealtime.The decking is suddenly swarming with scrambling crew members, each seeming to surface from holes and nooks. They all swarm toward the kitchen area where Bor stands ready to ladle out the day’s stew. Petsune makes his way to the back of the line and finds Chapel waiting for him with an extra bowl. Chapel winks at him and says, “Bor gets upset if you show up without a bowl.” Pet takes the bowl and says thanks. Despite this being his second night on the Painful Lady, this is Pet’s first dinner meal and it appears to be a vastly different experience from those he has had elsewhere. Meals in the Church of the Deep consisted of small portions eaten alone in some cold corner, sequestered away from anyone else. Meanwhile, mealtime in the Order of Loss was typically just bread broken in communion with all the other members. And the Sanctum of Souls always had large, lavish meals eaten in silence at long tables.Aboard the Painful Lady, things seem much more relaxed. The entire crew is moving things into a large sort of circle, so that everyone can sit. After he receives a healthy portion of mouth-watering stew, Petsune finds a wooden pale and turns it over to sit on. Chapel sits down cross-legged next to him on the deck and starts talking to Sprig who is sitting on a large crate, slurping soup right out of the bowl. Petsune looks around at the groups of people talking to each other, not so much hearing but simply taking it all in. The setting is shockingly similar to his time in the Order; very communal and uplifting, but the food is infinitely better. Bor’s stew is one of the best things Petsune has ever tasted. He moves his spoon around and sees chunks of runnykit and lardfee, some red onions, potatoes, and other unidentifiable chunks, all in a delicious milky broth. Surprisingly, it doesn’t taste fishy at all. Looking up from his stew, Pet notices that even Harlan is sitting with the rest of the crew, conversing with Mavis. His eyes dart this way and that, though they seem to flick toward Sprig more often. Once everyone has a bowl, Bor comes over and sits next to Mavis and Harlan, listening to their conversation.The groups that Petsune noticed at first seem to shift and meld with other groups. There is no clique or person that doesn’t talk with another, everyone seems very at ease and comfortable, friendly even. That’s when it hits him - what makes the crew so strange: it’s because they have treated him as one of them from the moment he was aboard. He has never felt like an outsider and that made him slightly uncomfortable. Yet, everything has been honest, and everyone has been kind. The Big Man comes by and talks with Petsune for a little, then Shushilah and Cheese. Sprig asks an unprompted question. “So, why’s there three churches?”The Big Man shifts uneasily, and Petsune attempts to answer. “Well, there are more than three churches — but I presume you mean the main three that follow the Saints?”“Yeah, them.”The Big Man wanders off toward Mavis and Harlan, and Petsune scoots closer to Sprig. He quickly learned not to treat Sprig like an ignorant child, yet he still finds it difficult to speak with him, never sure if he’s joking or serious. Petsune takes a breath, trying to organize his thoughts. “The churches do all believe in the same figures, but they disagree about pretty much everything else,” Chapel laughs quietly, making Pet aware that he is listening too, “they each believe their chosen Saint is the foremost of them, and that their divine will has been revealed to their respective church.”Chapel tilts his head slightly, then he asks, “So, isn’t it impossible to be a follower of all three?”“Yes and no,” Pet says, “you can’t fully accept every tenet of every church, some are at odds. But I believe each church has something valuable in it.”Sprig feigns a loud exaggerated yawn, then hops off his crate to join Pickett and Bor. Chapel nods thoughtfully. As Pet gazes around, he feels a funny warm feeling in his chest and throat. He realizes with a slight shock that he feels like crew, just as the rest of them do — like family.Petsune finishes his soup and is told by Chapel that he’s on clean up duty. He wanders over to the kitchen area and Bor wordlessly gives him a towel for drying the pots and utensils that he’s washing. Pet stands next to Bor in the kitchen area underneath the foredeck and he looks out through the open double doors to where the crew ambles. Some members have begun a new game of Runnykit. Bungle is licking out a bowl of soup that someone set for him. A few other crew members have wandered toward the sleeping quarters below the main deck. Cleaning up doesn’t take long, and soon Petsune is also wandering his way toward the captain's quarters. He feels as though he has worked harder today than he ever has, and yet it is satisfying. The offer Chapel posed flitters into the forefront of his mind, and he briefly thinks that he wouldn’t mind the life of the Painful Lady.Suddenly the Captain is there, appearing from nowhere as always, with an arm around Pet. “I wanna show you something.”Chapel takes him up the steps to the quarter deck where the helm is. Mavis has just dropped the anchor and locked the wheel for the night so the ship won’t stray. Mavis passes by Chapel with a swift salute and then a tip of his large hat to Petsune. Now they are alone on the quarterdeck, though down on the main deck The Big Man and Bor are talking and telling stories. Chapel points out to the small sun as it drops to the horizon, the final sunset of the evening, and he says, “We’ll arrive at Ginders tomorrow.” Petsune isn’t sure what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. They listen to the sound of gently lapping waves against the hull. There are a few prattlebeak roosting in the branches and rigging.Chapel turns to Petsune and says, “Have you thought at all about what I said?”Petsune looks down over the railing at the surface of the water, eventually answering, “I am still considering… Can I ask you, how did you come to be, um, sympathetic with the Coldor Cleave? In my experience, there aren’t a lot of people who are.”“Oh yeah? How many others have you met?”“None, actually - you’re the first. Though some people are more kind than others.”“I’m sure…” Chapel says regretfully.“You didn’t answer my question.”“No, suppose I didn’t. Remember how I said I was in the business of righting wrongs?”“Yes?”“Well, It’s sort of a long story…”“Well, I sort of have a long time.”Chapel looks over at Petsune and smiles, “Alright, Pet. Suppose it’s fair, since I know quite a bit about you.”There’s a silence that settles between them, though not awkward or tense. The only sounds are those of the sea and the ship, and the only witnesses, the stars. Chapel begins speaking softly, reliving the story, “My mother died when I was very young, shortly after I was born. You know about the Shot of the Straits?”“How could I not… was your mother killed in the attempt?”“No, no. But she died shortly after, in the fighting that started because of it. The Sunken Markets used to be in the Straits, but they were called the flooded markets back then, and she was killed there. It was a place where all four nations used to gather to trade, so there was already a lot of tension between the people. When the Cleave publicly attempted to kill Fellpost HelBenledore, the tension between the Fellbins and the Coldor exploded. That was the day the North War started, and it was what made my father hate the Coldor. He blamed them for what happened to her… My father reenlisted in the Royal Navy shortly after, and I was sent off to be raised by an aunt. I think he never wanted to leave the navy, never wanted me, but when he found out my mother was pregnant, well…” The Captain looks out at the sea, pausing for a moment in his story. “I didn’t see him again for years, not until my aunt passed. He came to say he was sorry and that I was being taken in by the Tapestry. That was the last time he saw me, though I’ve kept tabs on him. He rose through the ranks of the navy to the King’s Right Hand — the Royal protectorate.”“Saints… I’m so sorry, Chapel.”“It’s alright, whatever pain there was in the story has long been drained out by time. I grew up in the Tapestry, learning the storytelling art of the Finger Weavers. I left when I was still pretty young, 14 or 15. I sort of distanced myself, ran away from my pain and problems, but I kept an eye on my father…”Again, a gentle quiet spreads itself between them, until Chapel speaks, “Anyway. That’s some of my story, and that’s why I came to sympathize with the Cleave. I saw the hatred in my father, and I knew that wasn’t the answer. I don’t think they killed my mother that day, the chaos did, and Coldor families have been hurt just as badly.”“It’s quite the story. I’m sorry the Saint’s haven’t made it easy for you…”“Ah, that’s alright. An easy life never made a good man, I’d wager.”“But if you know the Coldor betrayed the Alliance, and caused your… caused everything, why do you sympathize with them?” Petsune asks partly to know the Captain’s answer, and partly because he wants to hear someone else say they believe Coldor is innocent.“Well, one thing I’ve learned watching my father and sailing the world — people never do anything without what they deem to be a good reason. I don’t know why the Cleave betrayed the Alliance, so until I do, I’ll withhold judgment.”“Hmm. I suppose that makes sense.” Pet says, slightly disappointed.“Well, Pet, let’s call it a night.”“But, didn’t you say you wanted to show me something?”“Oh, right! Almost forgot.” Chapel reaches inside a pouch on his belt and draws out some sweet bread. “Do you know what a ghost fish is?”“No, I’ve never heard of it.”Chapel sprinkles the sweet bread over the railing. Within a minute, a faint glowing shape emerges from the depths. It reaches the bread and swims parallel to the surface. Petsune gasps in horror at the glowing shape below. It is 6 or 7 feet long and looks exactly like the pale ghost of some poor fallen sailor, wailing in pain.Chapel explains as a few more show up and swim about, “Ghost fish are a translucent jellyfish, and they glow a pale green because they feed on gips, which are green.”“But why do they look like people?”“That’s their internal organs you’re seeing, the eyes are swim bladders, the nose is the heart, and the mouth the stomach. The placement just happens to give off the eerie effect of a face.”“But what about the arms and legs? What are those?”“They’re tentacles. The arms are actually shorter latching tentacles for mating, and the legs are longer grasping tentacles with stinging barbs on the end.”“Amazing. It’s beautiful, in a haunting sort of way.”“I think so too. You’re welcome to sleep in the chest again, by the way.”“Oh? Isn’t that your favorite spot?”“It is a good one, but the captain's bed is unbeatable. I'm usually up through the night anyway, so feel free to use whatever.”Petsune bids Chapel goodnight, receiving a wink in reply, then drowsily makes his way down toward the captain's quarters. When he looks back, Chapel is staring out at the night sky. The firmament above is anything but empty. There are barely discernible swaths of deep blue and green and red amid the glittering black sky. The stars populate every inch of the canvas above, like a million drops of silver frozen in time. The Long Ships constellation shines brightly tonight, and Ründ’s dagger as well. There are silhouettes of flying things Petsune doesn’t recognize, each silently feasting on the myriads of buzzets and other insects. The tri-colored tailor’s moon shines brightly in the third day of its phase, the combinations of light dancing on the surface of the waves. Petsune sighs softly as he takes it all in, marveling at the beauty of the world. Then he enters the captain's quarters and falls comfortably to sleep in the chest of fabrics.(Previous Chapter Nine) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Eleven) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Eight) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Ten)12th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the 29th Year of King Bornidin the Young’s Reign, 126th Reckoned YearThere once was a sailor who drown at sea, the baddest sailor ever was he.He went for a swig,down in the brig,and fell in the barrel of mead.Down, oh, drown oh, fell in the barrel of mead.There once was a sailor who drown at sea, the baddest sailor ever was he.He went for a piss,off in the mist,and fell off the decking so dandy.Down, oh, drown, oh. Fell off the decking so dandy.From ‘The Baddest Sailor’, Shanty, Author Unknown in the 54th Reckoned YearFirst Mate Mavis makes Cheese and The Big Man spread sand on the decking they got wet. Shushilah and Petsune are tasked with putting away all of the Runnykit supplies. Petsune grabs the four cups and Shush grabs the dice. When Petsune sees the leather arm guards again he mentions them, “So why a tower whale? Is there some significance for you?”Shushilah sighs loudly and says, “Significance? Yes, yes. Is important for all to remember, I’m thinking. The tower whale, she swims through the forests of the vines, yes? Is where she gets her name. The vines break and they float up, up, up, until they are reaching the surface and getting tangled there. This is where the Fill come from, or Mass, as you Dintish say. Is important to remember, everything has a place, yes?”Petsune is touched by the significance, and his perspective of Shushilah shifts. Together they replace the dice in the captain's quarters, then return the cups to an irritated Bor. After everything is cleaned up, Mavis calls Petsune up to the helm, where he stands behind the ship wheel, looking important. Petsune is still intimidated by Mavis. He wouldn’t be surprised if the man had a peg leg and maybe drank sea water. Once up at the helm, Mavis starts giving orders to Petsune as if he’s a crew member, “Go grab the pitmite paddle from Sprig, I’m sending you below decks to the food stores. Bor said there were a few of the nasty little buggers rolling around down there.”“Oh um, yes, sir.”Petsune has no idea why but he does a military salute and then walks away, cursing himself for a fool. Before he gets more than ten steps Mavis calls to him, “On second thought, take Sprig with you. Wherever he is. He probably needs something to do.” Petsune gives another enthusiastic yes sir and then walks off. As Pet walks away, Mavis mutters “…probably wouldn’t be able to get the paddle out of the rascal's hands anyway…”Petsune hears Bungle barking and figures that’s probably where Sprig is, so he walks that direction. He follows the sound toward the bow of the ship, and then hears Mavis’ voice again, “On second thought…” but Petsune turns and sees it's only a prattlebeak sitting up in the rigging. He contemplates a plan for procuring a feather, but it is too high, and Mavis gave him a job. Instead, he keeps walking after the yips until he locates Bungle. The small billypug is barking at Bor in the kitchen area, and Bor is yelling at Bungle“Get out of here! You’re not getting any!”Bungle snatches something off the corner of a cutting board and scampers off, followed by curses and threats of basting from Bor. Petsune slowly backs away, deeming it wise to leave Bor alone for the time being. He remembers that Mavis said he was to go below deck, so he decides to check there next for Sprig.As he walks, he considers the crew and his opinions of them. He finds them strange, but he can’t find a word for what it is about them that is so different. They are friendly enough, and they seem to be orderly while allotting time and space for leisure. It isn’t at all how Petsune pictured the ship life. He imagined a cut-throat environment where tension bubbled below the surface like a boiler shark. Yet, that’s not at all how it is on board the Painful Lady. It’s not only clean and civil, but also actually sort of fun. Not to mention the incredible sights. He’s only been aboard for about a day and has already seen the incredible migration of the ginder rays. He walks back along the ship's railing, thinking about what Chapel told him.When he walks back under the branch where the prattlebeak was, he hears Sprig’s young and spry voice coming from the above, “Have you seen Bungle?”This time however, when Pet looks up, there’s Sprig sitting on a branch next to a large round prattlebeak. Petsune never realized how big they really are; the bird is almost the same size as the boy. Petsune answers Sprig’s question with a pointed finger and poses his own question,“Could you perhaps grab a feather off that bird for me? I would greatly appreciate it.”“An’ what’s a Deepblood want with a feather?”“Well, Cheese won the first round of Runnykit and —”“I like Cheese. She’s funny. I don’t think I like you. Priests ain’t funny.”“Is that so?”“Yup. They never is. They’s always yellin’ ‘bout somethin’, an’ it’s never somethin’ worth yellin’ ‘bout.”Petsune considers this for a moment and finds himself agreeing with Sprig. In all his years with various churches, the Fathers only seem to yell when it’s trivial. They try way too hard to remain calm and collected during the serious stuff. “Well, Sprig. I agree with you in that. Now, Mavis asked me to get a ‘pitmite paddle’ from you? He said we’re to go down to the food stores an —”The prattlebeak interrupts by repeating “pitmite paddle” in Petsune’s own voice. Sprig leaps down from the rigging and lands heavy with a stumble into Petsune. Pet helps him gain his balance again and then follows him. Sprig says, “You mean the slacker whacker. Mavis uses it to punish anybody who don’t chip in enough.”Just before they reach the stairs, someone says Sprig’s name. It’s Harlan and he speaks in a flat voice and says, “It’s not good to lie to a priest, Sprig. Worse yet to steal from one. Give it back.”To which Sprig replies, “Give what back?”But Harlan simply says, “The sea is not deceived.”“Ah, you ain’t no fun Harlan. He didn’t even know…”Petsune is shocked that Harlan knows this phrase. Is he a Coldor, or a friend to the Cleave? Who is he, really.Meanwhile, Sprig reaches inside his tattered shirt and removes Petsune’s adorned dagger from his time with the Sanctum of Souls. Sprig carelessly hands it over to a dumbfounded Petsune. Not only is he shocked at Harlan, but now he is horrified at having been robbed. What exasperated the whole situation is how little it seems to matter to anyone, particularly Sprig. Petsune takes the proffered dagger and says heavily, “You know, the last two people who stole this from me ended up cursed.”Sprig’s interest is apparently piqued because he turns and says, “What curse? How?”Petsune fashions his face into a look of grave seriousness. “Oh yes… they were bullies at the Church of the Deep, and they stole it just as you did. But the next day, they were both met with so many misfortunes that they begged me to forgive them.”A look of genuine concern crosses Sprig’s face before he responds, “And… did you? Forgive ‘em?”Petsune nods sagely and answers in his most priestly voice, “Yes, yes, I did. Of course. I couldn’t let them suffer when they clearly acknowledged their wrongdoing.”At this, Sprig drops onto the ground at Petsune’s feet, startling him. He sounds like he is sobbing and pleading for Petsune to forgive him, and Pet feels a pang of guilt before Sprig begins laughing.Now Petsune realizes that Sprig has been playing him for a fool. Sprig rolls over laughing and holding his stomach. Harlan doesn’t make a sound or comment, simply walks away in silence. Eventually, Sprig is wiping tears of laughter from his face and saying, “Oh, I got you! I got you good. You thought you had me, but I got you!”Petsune appears annoyed, but then he realizes that he was also trying to trick Sprig. Seeing that he was simply outmatched, Petsune replies amiably, “Indeed. It seems I am in the presence of a master. Teach me your ways, o’ great one.”Sprig laughs again and then comments,“Okay, okay. Maybe you ain’t all bad.”Sprig leads Pet down to the food stores. Once they are out of earshot, Sprig begins badmouthing Harlan, “Harlan’s no fun. He’s always watchin’ me. I weren’t gonna keep your knife. Just practicing. Honest!”Petsune decides to not comment on the practicing bit and finds himself believing Sprig’s intentions. Petsune opts for the common ground, “Yes, Harlan is very, um, intimidating. I don’t think he likes me…”“Pft. Join the club, Priest.”“Chapel-er-The Captain called him a ‘brooding pirate’, is he really?”“Oh yeah, he broods all the time.”“No, I mean a pirate - is he a pirate?”“He were tellin’ me once that Chapel saved him, jus’ before he were hanged! It were a right good story actually.”“Oh… wow. It sounds like it.”At the bottom of the stairs, Sprig grabs the pitmite paddle off a hook on the wall. He does this without looking, suggesting this is a frequent practice of his. The food stores are under the foredeck and the kitchen, so they walk through the hold toward the bow. They pass a variety of areas and small doors, all places Petsune has yet to see.As they get closer to the food stores, Petsune begins to hear chittering and clicking, and something like chewing. Before they reach the door, Sprig suddenly asks a question out of the blue, “Do you really believe our souls sink to the bottom of Yath when we die? I heard that Deepbloods believe that.”Sprig pauses before opening the door and looks right at Petsune with a very genuine and inquisitive face. Petsune cannot tell when the boy is being genuine and when he’s playing him for a fool. He decides he would rather be kind and assume the boy is genuine, rather than think him false and be hurtful. So Petsune answers with a serious response, “Well, yes. Deepbloods do believe the dead sink to the depths, sort of. We believe our faults become weights that will drag us into the depths, if we have done enough wrong. The Church teaches that believers in Delód will remain buoyant and be whisked away while the unbelievers will sink into the silt, eternally drowning in the mire.”Sprig looks at Petsune with a nonplussed face and then turns to open the door to the food stores. Inside, there are dozens of orange-sized pitmites crawling around, but when they notice Petsune and Sprig, they curl their legs flat against themselves and begin to roll around. Petsune finds it sort of cute when they do this, but overall, they are more a nuisance than anything. He knows pitmites store food in their legs, so the fatter the legs, the more food stores they have eaten. These pitmites have average sized legs, so they haven’t been down here long. Sprig whacks one with a paddle but he hits the hard shell on the back and sends the pitmite flying instead of squashing it. Out of nowhere, Sprig poses another question to Pet, “What do the other Churches think? Big Man says the Sanctum has their head stuck ‘somewhere the sun don’t shine’, wherever that is. So, what do the other ones think? About when you keel over.”Just after he asks, he whacks a pitmite hard on the back which smooshes the bulbous underbelly, causing it to splat all over the wall it was on. “Well,” Petsune replies, “the Sanctum teaches that when a believer in Ründ, um, passes on, they are greeted into a great hall of feasting and celebrating.”“But what if you ain’t a believer - then what happens?”“Well, the unbelieving soul is cast off Yath, into the outer darkness.”Petsune tries to step on a rolling pitmite, but it narrowly escapes. Sprig has squished two more into the floorboards. This time it's Petsune’s turn to ask a question, “What about you? What do you think happens?”But Pet receives a curt reply, “Don’t know.”Then Sprig leaps onto a crate and tries hitting a pitmite crawling on a ceiling truss. He swings and misses, then asks, “And the Empty Hands? What do they think?”Petsune gives a good stomp and hits one, but it just bounces off toward the door. “Well, The Order believes each person’s soul is made of starlight. So, when they die, they return to the night sky to make a new star or relight an old one.”“An’ if you ain’t believed? Where do you go?”Almost all of the pitmites are squashed, except for a few that scuttled off behind the crates. Petsune moves a crate so that Sprig can get at the one behind it. “Well, the Order believes there is no distinction between those that believe in Wōde and those that do not.”Petsune watches Sprig crawl back behind the crate, then hears the paddle connect with a pitmite’s soft side. Sprig’s head pops up from behind the crate with a slight smile on his face,“I like that one.” He asserts.Petsune asks, “Why’s that?”Sprig shushes Pet and is looking around the room, listening for scittering. When he’s sure they got all the pitmites, Sprig says, “‘Cause I ain’t a believer in nothing. An’ I don’t wanna spend forever drownin’ in mud.”Petsune isn’t sure what to say to this. He realizes this is likely Sprig’s first civil interaction with someone wearing robes. He suddenly feels very underqualified to be reassuring someone about what comes after death. “Well, um, I don’t think, or at least it’s not likely that you would, uh, do that.”Sprig fixes Pet with a very quizzical look, then says, “You’re weird.”Petsune says more to himself than to Sprig, “So I’ve been told…”Petsune follows Sprig as he bounds up the stairs. Soon after they are above-deck, Bor rings the meal bell, and the crew gathers round for the midday meal. Bor lists off what the meal consists of, and Petsune’s mouth begins to water. “We have pan seared gipp, sautéed in barrel plant extract, with sides of caramelized padada and cubed toskar root, drizzled with gar lily honey.”The crew shuffles anxiously, inching closer to Bor in anticipation of the meal. Despite the eagerness of the crew, a single glare keeps the crew in a well-formed line. Benafield holds out his plate, staring at Bor’s hands with a look of pure expectation, his tongue licking his lips. Suddenly Chapel shouts from somewhere above, “Sails off the starboard stern!” The Big Man watches Bor’s hand waver and then replace the food into the pot. He appears seriously aggrieved, and Pet can just barely hear him mutter under his breath, “Ah, drown it all…”(Previous Chapter Eight) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Ten) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Seven) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Nine)12th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the 29th Year of King Bornidin the Young’s Reign‘From where does the cold wind blow?’, asked the sea to the sky.But the sky did not reply.‘Where does the sun's warmth go?’, asked the depths to the sea.But the sea did not reply.‘To where do all whale songs flow?’, asked the sailor to the depths.But the depths did not reply.‘Will you go where all sailors go?’, asked Death of the sailor.But the sailor did not die.From ‘Sayings of Saint Wōde’, Order of Loss, Written by Saint Wōde in the Unreckoned YearsPetsune sits in the captain’s quarters, gazing blindly at the wall. His entire understanding of the world, and of himself, has dissolved into a swirling pool of questions. He scrutinizes what Chapel told him and finds himself trusting the Captain and what he said, despite still having unanswered questions. There is something honest and trustworthy about Chapel, and yet he seems not to trust himself or his leadership. Petsune stands, rubbing the back of his neck and sort of ambling about the cabin, lost in thought. The ship rocks gently on its keel, swaying the hanging bits of cargo and personal effects in a hypnotizing pendulum. Toward the back of the cabin, Petsune finds a map of Yath on the wall, and he marvels at how much of the world he has never seen, consigned to his speck in the sea. Thune Mass is a mere thumb print in the sprawling blue ocean. Petsune covers it with his finger, then traces a line north-east, through the Bay of Rays, and into the Green Sea where Ginders Mass sits. He looks at the map closer and realizes a good bit of it has been added by a careful hand, as the writing is vastly different.His eye wanders across the map and finds the Coldor Cleave in the North West. He slowly runs his finger across the soft canvas, from Ginders on the mid-right side, across to the icebergs of Coldor in the top left. It seems a whole world away to him, and yet he has somehow never felt closer than on this ship. He decides now, though it feels more like acknowledging a decision made long ago, that he will stay on this ship. Petsune gazes for some time at the deftly made map, with its faraway locations and strange names. He hears a soft knock on the door frame. He assumes it is the Captain and so he says, “Captain, I would like-” but when he looks it isn’t Chapel, but rather the Filkish man. Petsune cannot recall the man's name and says with consternation, “Hello, Mister… um…”“Shushilah, but the crew, they are calling me Shush.”“Ah, that’s right, I’m sorry. My head is in a hundred places at the moment.”“Is okay, Pet! Is okay, no worries. Is a good time for distraction, I’m thinking? We are about to begin a new game of the Runnykit. You want to play, yes?”Before Petsune has time to protest, he is being pulled forward and herded out of the cabin door like a lost garpus. Petsune can’t help but notice the intricately embossed vambraces that Shush is wearing as they push and pull him out of the cabin toward the rest of the crew. He comments,“Those are beautiful — your arm guards. The leatherwork must have taken quite a while.”Shushilah glances at his arm and brightens, “Oh, yes? You are liking them? Is a common thing in the Oullman - uh, where I am from.”“Might I ask, what is the design on it?”“Of course, Petsune! Of course! A tower whale, here — see? And she is swimming through the tower vines, there.”The two of them reach the group of crew members that are playing Runnykit and Shush gestures for Petsune to sit in the place vacated by General Tar. Petsune obliges, sitting on a sturdy barrel filled with some type of sloshing liquid.Once seated, Shushilah speaks,“The Big Man, he will be better explaining this, I’m thinking.”Taking his cue, The Big Man begins espousing passionately,“Okay, Pet. This is a game of skill and luck both. Three words to know, Aye? Wager, call, and take. Now, each player gets a die — you can have more than one, but we will not get into that just now. You roll the dice in the cup, like this, and when all the cups are upside down on the board, then each player makes a wager and a call. With me so far, little Pet?”Petsune looks up from the cup engulfed in The Big Man’s hand and blinks rapidly before Benafield continues,“Aye. The call is what you think your die will read when you lift your cup. So for a one die game, it is any number between one and six — same for wagers. Now, if you are right, you count whatever number you wagered as your take plus 6. But if you are wrong! Aye, if you are wrong, your take is 6 minus whatever your wager was.”He holds up his other huge hand, “Let me explain: if nobody calls their roll right, everyone gets 6, minus the wager they made, Aye? With me still?”Petsune is listening carefully, but his head is still caught up in the revelations of earlier. The Big Man heedlessly plows forward into the final aspect of the game,“Lastly. If any dice show the same roll, the first to yell Runny! earns their wager, and! - the wager of the duplicate roller. The winner is whoever has the biggest take at the end. Okay, little Pet, ready?”The Big Man lifts his cup with two hands over his shoulder and prepares to play immediately, but Cheese cuts him off, “You forgot the drownin’ pot, ya millie!”Benafield looks horrified at having missed a part of the game in his exposition, “Aye! Sorry, Pet... I do enjoy this game, hah!” His laugh nearly rattles the cups. “Right, lastly: if you call your roll three times in a row, that is a Saint’s roll, and you win the game straight out.” Confused, Petsune makes some type of sound that everyone else seems to take as agreement. A wooden cup is thrust into his hands by Cheese, the ivory die rattling in the bottom. Suddenly everyone raises their cup and Petsune follows suit, slamming it down a moment later.Shushilah calls out, “Wager 1, call 3.”The Big Man rumbles, “Aye. Wager 2, call 2.”Cheese confidently says, “Wager 5, call 4.”Then all three look expectantly at Petsune, who suddenly realizes he has no idea what he’s wagering, “Um. I don’t have any money?”Shushilah sort of waves a hand at him, as if swatting buzzets, saying, “Is okay. We don’t play for money; Mavis says no money. Just make a wager.”“Um, alright… Wager 6, call 4…?”The crew's eyes widen slightly at his wager, which does not ease Petsune’s mind. The Big Man tempers his surprise by saying, “Aye, and… cups!”At this pronouncement, everyone lifts their cups, Pet following a moment behind. Shushilah’s die shows 3 pips, Benafield’s has 6, and Cheese shows 3. Petsune’s die displays 1 black dot. Cheese quickly sees Shush’s die and cries out “Runny!” causing the Big Man to grumble and hit the ship railing he’s sitting on. Shushilah makes a tsk sound and pushes his cup away in disappointment.Cheese is looking very pleased with herself when Petsune asks, “Uhhh, what just happened?”Cheese replies in a very smug tone, “ya lost.”“Right, but lost what? I don’t have anything.”“Depends. First winner picks the pot,” Suddenly a rather devious smirk emerges on Cheese’s face, “and the pot’ll be… prattlebeak feathers!”Groans and complaints erupt from Shush and The Big Man, But Petsune is somehow even more confused. He looks at each of them and asks,“Prattlebeak feathers? Why…”The Big Man rolls his eyes and points at Cheese with an immense finger, “She is always doing this, thinks it funny. She picks something crazy, aye? And then we all look like fools trying to get it. Last time was wigmoss off the side of the hull!”Cheese makes a face at the Big Man and says, “Least I pick somethin’ new each time. You just pick everyone’s dessert rations.”The Big Man scoffs and says, “Bah!” while shooing away Cheese’s words with his large hand.Petsune is still, not quite, but almost entirely lost. “Do we need to, um, pay up now? … or when do I do that? I’m just a little bit confused about what’s happening. I owe her… a feather? …”Cheese, still smiling mischievously, says, “Yeah, ‘splain it bennie.”The Big Man says in a low voice, “Do not start with that Bennie nonsense.” then he turns to Petsune,“Right. The pot is decided for the remainder of the game by the winner of the first roll, aye? But the game can only stop when the losers of the round agree - meaning they have to pay up, as you say.”Shushilah stands up and says amusedly, “We are ready to be done now, I’m thinking…”Petsune, finally thinking he understands, says, “So if we are done now, we being the losers this round, then we all owe her a prattlebeak feather?”Shushilah answers, “Right. This is why I’m thinking we are done, maybe. The pot cannot change now.”The Big Man huffs and stands then grumbles quietly, “I hate when she wins first roll…”But before either man can stomp off, Petsune speaks up, “Wait, I didn’t agree to end yet. I would actually like to keep playing, at least a few more times. If that’s alright?”The Big Man has a pleasantly surprised look on his face and says, “Hah! Yes, very good, little Pet. We’ll make a Runny player out of you yet.” Shushilah sighs lightly, but he appears content to continue playing.Once everyone is seated again, The Big Man’s zeal for the game seems to return. He lifts his cup high, the die rattling away like a trapped insect, and he says, “Down!”As all four cups meet the surface of the crate, Cheese loudly proclaims, “Wager 4, call… 5.”Then Benafield, “Aye. Wager 5, call 2.”Followed by Petsune, “Wager 1, call 3.”And lastly, Shushilah speaks, “Wager 6, call 4.”Looks are exchanged around the table, then Cheese says, “Cups!”And everyone raises their cup. Petsune gets his call right, but no one else does. Shush has a 2, Cheese has a 6, and The Big Man has a 4. Petsune is looking pleased, until Cheese speaks, “Well look at you, priesty. Not bad, but you ain’t wagered hardly nothing at all. I still got the biggest take.” This time no one seeks to end the game, and so another round begins.Cups are raised into the air like some sort of toast or salute. The Big Man has a very intense look as he says, “Down!”All the cups come slamming down, then all three look to Pet to make the first wager. He hesitates and then says, “Wager 6, call 1.”Next, Benafield, “Aye… Wager 6, call 6.”And then Cheese takes her turn, “Wager 5, call… 6.”At this, The Big Man shoots a glare her way, then Shush speaks, “Wager 3, call 5.”Everyone looks at each other, and The Big Man says, “Cups!”Before Petsune even has time to look at the dice, The Big Man’s booming voice yells out, “Runny!” as he stands up, nearly toppling the crate and falling backward over the rail. Irritated, Cheese pushes The Big Man the final inch he needs, and he goes back over the railing, splashing loudly into the water below. Petsune is backing away quickly, afraid some hidden tensions are surfacing.All three of them rush to the railing to see the hulking form of Benafield floating lazily on his back, and he calls up in a taunt, “Guess you owe me a prattlebeak feather! Hah!”Then he spits water up into the air in a playful fountain. Cheese tries to look angry with him down there, but she and Shushilah quickly begin laughing. Petsune is relieved to see it is all a jest and not malicious. Suddenly, Mavis is there speaking, “Why in the depths is The Big Man in the water?”Shushilah tries to say through his laughter, “Is okay, Mavis, is okay. He won and Cheese, she pushed him. Ahhh, it was very funny.”Mavis rolls his eyes and says in his grumbling voice, “Drown these two, always up to something…” then he yells down to the floating Big Man, “Get up here, Benafield! And you, Cheese. You two need to stop with all this taunting and rivalry.”The Big Man grabs ahold of one of the roots that extend from the railing down to the water, and he climbs back up to the deck. Petsune is surprised to find himself laughing slightly as The Big Man climbs back up onto the ship. Mavis, Shushilah, Cheese, and Petsune all watch as the Big Man pulls himself over the railing and folds an unwilling Cheese into a soaking wet embrace, then pats the top of her head, saying, “I will be expecting my feather then. Same goes for you two.” As he points thick fingers toward Shush and Pet.(Previous Chapter Seven) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Nine)While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Six) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Eight)12th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the 29th Year of King Bornidin the Young’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year…you can stir the sea with a spoon, but you cannot steer a ship without a crew...From ‘Wisdom of Saint Delód, The Church of the Deep, Written by Saint Delód in the Unreckoned YearsAfter the introductions, Chapel takes Petsune back to the captain's quarters and explains what the next two days will look like. “The Painful Lady is a house; we all live together here. And the crew is family, nobody is too good for a job, and nobody is above anybody else. Except for Mavis. You should probably listen to him.”Petsune appears confused and says, “and you?”But Chapel waves him off saying, “I’m not important, just listen to Mavis. Now, you are aboard the Lady for the next two days, so for these two days, you’re family here. That means helping out. And listening to Mavis. And me, I guess.” Petsune gets the feeling that Chapel’s carefree manner hides a lack of confidence in his ability to lead. The Captain continues, “Anything important will likely come through Mavis anyway.” Chapel claps loudly and says, “Well, now that’s done with. Any questions?”Petsune blinks a few times before saying, “Uh, yes. I have a lot of questions.”Chapel flings himself into a not particularly comfortable looking hammock hung from a truss. Petsune remembers what the Captain had said about the switching of sails and he feels that Chapel is deliberately making him think the worst. So, he confronts the Captain about this matter first, feeling it would further his understanding of the type of dealings the Lady has. When Petsune asks, “So the ship changes sails, but you said that is illegal?”Chapel simply responds disinterestedly, “Yeah, it is illegal, if you don’t have the permits for the colors. Which we do.”Petsune feels that familiar frustration mingled with admiration begin to creep up, but he continues with his questions in a level headed manner. “Alright. Next question, where did this ship come from?”This time Chapel doesn’t respond immediately and Petsune feels he has perhaps asked a difficult or tricky question.After a few moments however, Petsune hears soft snores coming from the hammock. Now his frustration gets the better of him and he says loudly, “Captain Chapel! Could you please manage to stay awake and explain where in the depths this ship came from!”Chapel snorts into a waking state and responds, “huh, what? What did you say?”Petsune nearly growls out, “Where. Did the ship. Come from?”The Captain yawns and says, “I have no idea. I borrowed it indefinitely from a dock on Dintash Mass. They didn’t seem to be using it.”Petsune stammers. “You… you what? You stole it from the Royal Navy?!”“Well they stole it first so-““Chapel! That makes you an enemy of the crown. They could be after you, and this is a very distinct ship.”“Yeah, I thought so too, that’s why I borrowed it.”“If they’re after you, then they’ll consider me one of your crew. I can’t go to prison; I have to get back to Thune Mass: Father Haltur is expecting bread and fish!”Much to the chagrin of Petsune, the Captain simply laughs loudly. After laughing for an infuriating amount of time, Chapel says, “Ah, Pet. I’m no more an enemy of the crown than you are. I heard your argument with that street crier back on Thune Mass - you do know Coldor Cleave is an enemy of the crown, right? That includes any sympathizers. There is that small matter of their betraying the alliance.”Petsune looks away but says, “That’s different. I didn’t steal a ship from under King Bornidin’s nose!”“Neither did I,” Chapel looks very self-satisfied as Petsune expresses bewilderment. Chapel continues, “I borrowed a ship out from under the nose of Prince Feyaz. He’ll never tell the king he lost it for fear of punishment, if he even notices it’s missing.”“How long has it been missing?”“Oh, maybe 8 or 10 years?”Petsune merely blinks in astonishment. The Captain appears to be checking his nails for dirt or something when Petsune follows up the question with another, “And how long was the ship under Prince Feyaz’s nose?”Now Chapel leaves off whatever he was doing and sits upright, looking at Petsune more seriously. The Captain says, “About 20 years.”The timing of things begins to click in Petsune’s mind, and he thinks aloud, “So about 30 years give or take… which is about when the North War ended.”Chapel smiles slightly and verbally prods, “Mhmmm.”“So, this ship was taken during the war? This is a ship from the Coldor Cleave?”“Bingo! That did not take you nearly as long as I thought it would. One detail you're missing though, this isn’t just a Coldor ship. This is the ship of the Cleave of Coldor — their rulers.”Petsune contemplates this added detail but doesn’t see how it matters much, until Chapel speaks again, “The war ended and the Coldor were pushed into the Northwest Waters when the Cleave was killed and this ship was taken.” Again, Petsune contemplates this, suddenly seeing the beauty of this ship in a new light. The Captain watches Petsune as he gazes about the cabin.Chapel speaks again, more softly this time, “The ship wasn’t all they took. The Cleave’s only heir, their son, was aboard this ship - the only survivor.” Petsune looks to Chapel and feels a profound sadness overcome him, imagining a child in the midst of the carnage of war. The Captain asks, “Petsune. How old are you, exactly?”And now the final pieces click into place, and he understands. “You mean… Me?”The Captain looks into Petsune’s eyes with an apologetic sorrow and says, “It’s you, Pet. You’re the son of the Cleave of Coldor, heir to the empty throne.”Petsune feels dizzy and sits down in the chest he slept in just hours ago. The whole world seems to have changed so much so fast. The hurt that he has carried all these years resurfaces and shifts around into new and unfelt emotions. He isn’t just Coldor, he is royalty - not just an enemy of the crown but the biggest threat to the kingdom. His parents are responsible for the North War and betraying the Alliance. A new thought surfaces in Petsune’s reeling mind, “But… how do you know all of this?”After a prolonged silence, Chapel finally speaks again, his face suddenly very intense “Well, I’ve been looking for you for a while now.”“What? Why? What do you want with me?”The Captain turns his intense gaze inward and stares at nothing, then he says, “Let’s just say I’m in the business of righting wrongs. I borrowed this ship without knowing anything about it. But when I learned your story, I wanted to… I dunno, reunite you with it, I guess. It’s the last thing that remains of your family.” Petsune and the Captain sit in silence, the creaking hull of the ship and the strain of its ropes are the only sound for some time. Petsune stares unblinkingly at his lap, seeing the snatches of memory from his earliest years. He wonders what happened and what will happen now, when Chapel speaks again, “that’s why I had Sprig steal your offering plate, to sort of lure you here but—”“Wait, what? That was you? You had a child steal from a priest for you?”“Well, he’s very goo-”“You lured me here? Why in the depths would you do that? What do you want with me?”“Okay, maybe lure isn’t the right word but it’s like I said. I want you to have what belongs to you: I want you to have the Painful Lady.” Chapel continues speaking but Pet is lost in his own crumbling mind. He finds himself once more rendered speechless by Chapel’s words, unable to comprehend their gravity or meaning.Then Chapel is there, seating himself next to Petsune in the chest of fabrics. Again, Petsune fails to find words to say, and Chapel speaks first, “I know this is a lot. I know that. But would you think about it? Just consider what I’ve said until we dock at Ginders Port, then give me your answer. If you want, we’ll take you back to Thune Mass after we’ve unloaded our cargo. I’ll even have Sprig give you back your shiny bowl. Or if what you want is to be captain of the Painful Lady, I will happily return what is rightfully yours. It’s the least I can do.”Petsune’s mind spins but he finds a voice for one thought, “Who else knows?”“Nobody but you and me, Pet. And it’ll stay that way until you say otherwise. In the meantime, until you decide, we’ll treat you as crew. And aboard the Painful Lady, crew is family.”“Right… um, yes… Okay.” Petsune is clearly still in a daze and Chapel simply pats him on the back then soundlessly disappears from the cabin.(Previous Chapter Six) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Eight)While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Five) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Seven)12th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the 29th Year of King Bornidin the Young’s Reign, 126th Reckoned YearBeware the flower at the center of the world, for many a ship does it entice.A keen craft sails around its petals unfurled, ne’er to draw near would be wise.From ‘Captains Log’ of the Reachmast, Author Unknown in the Unreckoned YearsThe Captain is leading Petsune over to a group of four sailors who are sitting down playing a game of some sort. Chapel speaks in such a way that only Petsune is really being spoken to, “The one furthest from us on the railing is Shushilah. He’s from Folders Fill, which is in the Filkish Oullman, if you can’t tell by his accent.”“What’s a Filky doing all the way over here on your crew?”“I met him when I was down that way, and he was so taken with the ship that I couldn’t get him off it.”Shushilah is wearing the typical clothes of an Oullman citizen; a hooded waistcoat, thick leather armbands embossed with a design, and pants that are baggy at the bottoms and can be rolled up in a hurry.“You know the one on the left barrel, that’s the Big Man. If you ever hear singing, it’s him: composes his own shanties, even. He loves music of any kind. One of the friendliest people you’ll ever meet. Just don’t try to convert him.”“Ah. And how’d you meet him?”Captain Chapel sort of looks up at nothing, reminiscing some far-flung memory. When he speaks, it’s from somewhere far away, “I was in Broadfell, though I don’t remember why… selling goods probably, and I heard him singing in a tavern - offered him adventure and new song material, and he’s been with me ever since.”Now that Petsune can get a proper look at him, the Big Man is wearing some of the garb common to Broadfell, but not entirely. He wears a tight-fitting leather cap with two bones or teeth made to resemble horns, a typical Fellbin hat; a sleeveless waistcoat with a fur collar, also seen frequently in Broadfell; and pants that were mutilated into shorts, not typical Fellbin garb, but it fits the look, Petsune thinks.Shushilah exclaims something rude about the game they’re playing, and then Chapel continues his introductions, “the one on the right side is Cheese.”“Why is she called Cheese?”Petsune looks at Chapel and thinks he sees a shadow pass over his face when he responds, “That is a story for another time. I met Cheese recently, but she has fit right in and proven a very valuable crew member.”Petsune wonders about the name, but Chapel is already introducing the fourth player of the game, “and this gentlemen on the crate closest to us is Tar.”As Chapel gestures obliquely, the man called Tar turns to look back over his shoulder and says, “Hmm, that’s General Tarlatan to you, young man, thank you. Mmm, General Tarlatan of the Misty Shoals.”Petsune feels flustered and stammers out his reply, “Oh, um, yes, uh, sir? Yes, sir. Of course, uh, General.”The General turns back to the game and Petsune turns to Chapel with a quizzical look. Chapel answers his unspoken questions, “Yes, he really is a general. Or he was. He was dishonorably discharged. We call him Tar, General Tar, Tarlatan, Gen Tar, old goat - whatever works really.”“Why was-““He was a General in the Royal Navy, served under King Bornidin the Old.”“Oh… oh, I think I see…”“Tar saw a lot of good men die during the North War, men he was responsible for. But it wasn’t until after he came home that he really broke… People can be cruel.”Unsure what to say, Petsune looks at his feet. Shushilah breaks the awkward silence, calling to Petsune, “Hello, Pet! Is a fun game, yeah? You want to play, I’m thinking?”“Oh, um, no, thank you. Maybe next time.”Chapel chimes in, “I am showing our new Pet around, but we’ll make a Runny player out of him, don’t you worry.”Before they walk away, The Big Man slams his oversized fist into the table and sends dice flying. With that, Petsune is being led by the familiar hand-on-the-back gesture, over toward the foredeck door at the bow. A few feet before opening the short door, Petsune smells something wonderful. When the door is swung outward, a whole host of delicious smells follow. Petsunes mouth immediately begins to water as he enters the kitchen-like area under the foredeck. It’s cramped, steamy, and sweltering, but Petsune feels closer to the Saints than ever. He is walking slightly forward with his eyes closed while he speaks, “What is that wonderful smell…”When Petsune opens his eyes, his nose is raised mere inches from the face of a tall and hard looking man. Chapel speaks from somewhere behind in the steam, “The man you are pointing your nose at is Bor. Bor, meet Pet - Pet, Bor.”The man called Bor is looking at Petsune with a hard glare, and Petsune squeaks out, “Um, hello, Bor. Sir?”Bor continues his glare, but then it loosens, and he speaks to Chapel, “I like this one. He appreciates my art.”With that, Bor turns and goes back to chopping up something with dexterous speed. Petsune obsequiously backs out of the cramped space and whispers a question to Chapel, who is closing the doors, “Why do you call him Bor? Isn’t that just a fancy cook, like on Dintash Mass?”“Oh yes, and don’t ever call him a cook. He’s a Bor - the Bor - and what he does is art, as he puts it. We are very lucky to have him aboard, or so he keeps telling me.”Chapel walks around to the top of the foredeck, above where Bor is cooking, so Petsune follows him. There at the tip of the bow, facing outward and watching the horizon, is a figure. He is dressed in an unusual fashion; everything is tight fitting and there are belts running every which way, each of which bears a knife, or gunpowder, or shot. On the figure’s back, there is a large spear with a leather wrapped handle. The sharpened tip is wicked and unlike anything Petsune has ever seen. Chapel begins speaking, “This is Harlan, our very own brooding pirate.”The Harlan figure doesn’t move to greet them other than a raised hand, despite facing away from them. Chapel begins leading Petsune down the other side of the foredeck. Seeing Harlan and hearing Chapel’s introduction of him brings back one of Petsune’s questions, “So… uh, why do you change sails? Isn’t that, um, illegal?”Chapel responds with his usual nonchalance, “Oh, yes. Very.”Before Petsune has time to pose more questions, he is being introduced to two more people. Both people are leaning way over the starboard railing and one of them is pointing at something. Chapel stands a little way back from them, so as not to disturb whatever they are doing, “This is Sprig and Pickett. Sprig is the little one: watch out for him, he’s as quick as wig moss and can rob you blind without you even suspecting. And the taller one is Pickett: he won’t speak to you, unless you can get him to talk about sea creatures. He knows just about everything there is to know about them.” Petsune looks at the two youngest crew members and sees that there is a very tight knit bond there. Chapel points toward the quarter deck, right at Mavis, and says, “and that is First Mate Mavis, as you well know.” Petsune looks at Chapel, who is smirking, and gives him a sardonic smile back.Chapel flops down into a pile of ropes and what looks like old rags. He immediately has his eyes closed and his hands clasped behind his head, in a look of serene bliss. He is about to speak when a small bundle of fur leaps from somewhere unseen, right into Chapel's lap and tries to lick his face. Chapel, seeming to have taken a stray limb to the groin, attempts to groan out, “…mmm and this… is Bungle… our… billypug…mmphh…”Petsune watches Chapel roll around slightly, curled in on himself while Bungle soaks his face. Petsune feels slightly bad for Chapel, but he also has the biggest smile on his face since he left Thune Mass, and a long time before then even. Seeing Bungle reminds Petsune of his other question, so he asks, “and what is the name of this strange ship?”Chapel has recovered slightly and is rustling Bungle’s fur, “You mean you haven’t… mmm… you haven’t heard of it? Depths… I thought we’d worked up a better reputation than that. This is the Painful Lady.”Petsune blinks a few times before finally saying, “No, doesn’t ring any bells.”(Previous Chapter Five) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Seven)While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

The most important part of a Finger Weaver’s act is not the intricate puppets, it is the stage itself. A four foot wide box with an open front and back. The puppets are a focal point for the audience, but only if the stage creates a window to a different world. Debinaud understands this. It must be fashioned so the arms of the Weaver can reach through the black curtains that cover the open back, to manipulate the puppets into every inch of the 4 foot platform. Deb crafted his own stage, knowing the importance and the placement in every knot of wood. He put care into each inch, building concealed drawers and hidden compartments, fitting in pulleys and levers and switches. He made it from the lighter wood of the Broadfell trees, then stained it a dark subtle color so it disappears in the act. He has seen too many Weavers bend forward during the final act of their performance from the weight of the stage on their chest. A true Finger Weaver wears the stage, not the other way around. Deb understands this too.The leather straps on Deb’s stage have worn thin where the weight rests on his shoulders. He tugs on them, testing their strength. Though he is young, it has been a long time since he created this stage. As he moves through his ritual of checking each lever, string, and switch, his hands shake and his stomach quibbles with his heart. This will be the largest crowd he has ever performed for, and likely ever will, yet that is not why his insides feel taut. He is no stranger to crowds or even high-born families, though he has never performed in front of them. No, he is anxious because his father will be there, and he has never seen him perform — he doesn’t even know he is a Finger Weaver. He will after tonight. Deb’s black Weaver veil will hide his face, but it will not mask his voice.Deb runs his fingers along the dark wooden grooves of the miniature stage, internally tracing the lines of his thoughts. If he can say the right words, then perhaps the night will not end in disaster. He mindlessly tests the pulley system for the curtains, staring down at the black shark puppet next to his stage. The idea for the act has been fermenting for a while; he has all of the necessary props, and knows all of the lines, yet he doesn’t feel ready to show it. Some of the maneuvers are still tricky for him to accomplish, and no Weaver has attempted to use flame and smoke and light in their act. Still, if not now, then when? Will he ever feel ready to share his innermost self? To trace out those fine lines of thought and feeling on display for all? Deb picks up the puppet of the boiler shark, moving it toward the candle lighting his space. A small flask of millie juice is coaxed to life by the heat, and the shark puppet begins to glow red from within. He stares at the heat breathing in the puppet’s gills, his greatest creation yet, and makes his decision. There is only the craft, the art, the performance. It doesn’t matter who is on the other side.Part of Deb’s draw to the Tapestry and the art of Finger Weaving was its anonymity. The Weaver remains veiled while the performance is displayed, and that appealed to him. He never expected to become popular for his work, perhaps respected among peers at most. He always created without thought to the reception of his performance, and yet he continued to gain renown. When the Royal festivities were announced to celebrate the 75th anniversary of Wonum’s Law, Deb thought little of it. Until King Bornidin sent for the preeminent Finger Weaver of the Kingdom, requesting a performance at the festivities. Deb knew all too well that a King never requests anything, so he obsequiously accepted. Now, as he dabs red whale oil onto the joints of the shark puppet, he wonders; would he have started his journey at the Tapestry if he knew this would happen? He never wanted fame. He wanted to create.Deb sought out the Tapestry in secret, his father would never allow it. To him, the arts were a feminine thing. Deb’s father was prone to anger and not accustomed to disobedience. The Tapestry allowed him in under certain restrictions. He had excelled at the craft and was quickly given his own stage. He began to write his own plays and became increasingly popular, something he did not expect. Yet, as he tests the joints of the shark puppet, Deb knows he would do it all again, despite being forced to confront his father. These moments of performance have been the best of his life.Debinaud sets down the puppet of the boiler shark, its glow slowly dying away. A peace settles over him with his decision. He will perform The Boiler Shark and the Fisherman’s Son and through it, he will say all of the things he has been forced to keep quiet. His father may rage, may even hate him, but Deb is no longer afraid of him. He assembles the supplies he will need for the performance, mentally rehearsing lines of verse. Lastly, he unwraps two glass vials of storm squid ink. He sits them inside a drawer with a slanted bottom and allows them to roll and clink together. They brood and flash with the brilliant white of a lightning storm. He wraps them again to ensure they do not contact each other before the right scene. Once he has every prop and puppet assembled, he practices.Deb slides his arms through the straps, bringing the stage up onto his chest. The weight of it hangs on his shoulders familiarly, the leather straps creaking kindly. Lastly, he dons the black veil every Finger Weaver wears. He breathes slowly, banishing all thought. When he pushes his hands through the rear curtain at the back of the stage, the sensation pulls him out of himself and into the performance. He does not see puppets being moved by his hands, but watches living things dance; he does not hear the subtle creaking of wooden joints, but listens to the crashing of swells. Deb moves through the play, reaching the moment when the boiler shark must be made to glow, but a fleeting thought of his father distracts him. He knocks over the candle in its concealed drawer and curses, putting out the flame before it does damage. This will be the trickiest part of the play. He nearly wishes he never thought to make the shark actually glow, but he knows it will be worth it if he pulls it off. When he pulls it off.Deb begins again, running through the play and perfecting the movements. He reaches the scene where the shark begins to glow. He attempts to bring the puppet down to the candle to coax the millie juice into a red glow, but he focuses too hard on the shark puppet, forgetting to dust the toskar root over the flame with his free hand. He runs though the play again, closing his eyes as he brings the shark down to the hidden candle, letting the heat guide his hands. As he does, he hears a knock on his doorframe. Deb looks up through his veil to see it is time. Hours of practice have flitted by unnoticed. He repositions the stage to his back, resembling a Filkish fabric merchant, their packs burgeoning with cloth. He leaves the black veil over his face. The journey to the palace is familiar and well-trod by Deb. Without thought, he arrives and is granted entry to the palace, then the Throne Room. He does not look up, not to see the dais where the Throne of Seas is, not to view the gleaming white arches of Saintstone in the vaulted ceiling, and not to glimpse his father or his brother. Deb knows he will remain a shrouded mystery until he speaks, and he tries to find comfort in this. He will be revealed to them, to his family, but so will his heart. Whether they express understanding or outrage is beyond his control.The festivities begin. A band plays delicate instruments and intricate melodies while the feast is served and ravenously consumed. The Royal Win-Bor has outdone himself on the meal, the tables piled high with tall fruit sculptures, large bread bowls of desserts, roasted beasts laying across lengths of massive tables, and glowing fountains of millie juice and wine. Debinaud does not partake. His stomach recoils at the idea of food. Instead, he watches and calms his nerves. When the meal reaches a close and the people have had their fill, a troup of jugglers and dancers performs while the bulk of the food is cleared away. The King taps his scepter against the Saintstone throne, which rings out in strange tones, filling the hall with a high humming buzz. All sound ceases from those in attendance, and the King’s Right Hand announces Debinaud under his stage name.“Finger Weaver, Tragedy Mill.”Deb walks forth to the elevated area below the throne and stands in front of the crowd. He is given the floor to the left of the throne, so everyone might observe the performance. Deb shifts the stage from his back to his chest, tightening the shoulder straps and finding comfort in their familiar creaking voice. He opens the drawers on the back of the stage, eyeing the props inside. Deb’s veil flutters silently with his breath as he implements the first Tapestry teaching: make the silence yours. He reaches his hands through the rear black curtain and tugs the pulley to open the red curtains at the front of the stage, then attaches the twine to his belt. Deb waits, taking in the silence and feeding it to his nerves. He will not look for his father, he will not think of his brother. He will say what is in his heart. Debinaud speaks and his musical voice washes through the room.“Once there was a fisherman who held a taste for pain.He, the ship — his fury, the wind, and it did blow untamed.He reveled in the gutting, took pleasure in the gore, enjoyed the heft of spear.The blackened hull of the fisherman’s ship, did every creature and man, fear.”Deb bobs the wooden cutout of a fishing vessel on waves of blue Filkish cloth, and the room rustles with an unseen whisper of wind. No one moves or mutters, and Deb has gone to a place where they do not exist.“The fisherman was only matched in vile spark, by the fire of the dread boiler shark, which did steal his catch and net.The blackened hulls would swell with heat, the fisherman’s net be pulled down deep, and he, pulled down into debt.The sea roiled with the anger of the fisherman, the sky filled and swirled with oaths spoken in haste.Those he knew told of his doom, and his son watched him wither and waste.One fateful day, when death and folly had their way, the fisherman set out to fulfill his vow.He sailed away, without a word to say, naught but a sharpened spear in his bow.”Deb moves the puppet who clasps the glinting spear, up onto the cutout of the ship, sailing it away across rippling fabric. The fisherman’s son is left alone on the prop docks. Deb moves his right leg backward and the curtain is pulled silently closed by a line of twine running from his belt to his foot. He switches out props with masterful swiftness, trading the ship for a smaller version and removing the docks from the scene. When he moves his right leg forward again, and the thin twine hisses through its rivets, and the red curtains bunch away neatly, and the crowd cannot wait any longer, the scene is set.A small vessel rides a massive undulating wave of cloth. Deb lets the vials of storm squid ink clink together, they spark with a dramatic lightning flare. A cool breeze pushes its way through the attentive crowd, it smells of a distant storm. Deb lets the ship flounder on the cusp of the fabric, making the silence his own, before he brings forth a looming black fin. Then he speaks, his voice harsher than before.“The sky cracked and the wind wept when the fisherman found his prey.The boiler shark, large and dark, scared his hand to stay.The yawning maw opened wide, the ship was stoved, and the fisherman fell within.The son sensed the father die, the mouth was closed, and the ship sank down, unbid.But the tale of the fisherman was not yet finished, for his son was made to continue his business.The anger of a boiler shark, like blood in the water.A love of hurt and death and pain, caught the son from his fisherman father.He hooked his prey and he slew his enemy; he made the sea to boil.He baited the kind and he kicked the weak; he sowed ash into soil.He beguiled the sea and had not a friend to speak of.Vengeance for his fisherman father was all he could think of.”Deb pulls his right leg back and draws the vermillion curtain closed on the first Act. The audience lets out a collective breath but doesn’t move. During the time between Acts, it is common for a Weaver to allow an intermission, but Deb has never held a crowd so completely bound to his performance. Despite himself, he turns to gaze at the King. His countenance is a foreign language; distant and unknown. Deb looks away, readying the props and puppets for the second and final Act. He removes the boiler shark puppet and lights the candle in the drawer, ensuring the flame cannot be seen. From the top of his stage, he lowers the model of a keel. Finally, he moves the blue Filkish cloth to act as a veneer across the front of the stage. The crowd remains silent, not a susurration to be heard. Deb breathes out, his veil flutters, and he enters the liminal space of performance. He moves his right leg forward and the crimson curtain recoils to reveal the window to another world: dark waters below the floating keel of a fishing vessel.“The son cared not for his fisherman father, but was furious for his life being consigned to net and spear.He sought revenge on that fiery beast of water, and so stepped into his father’s ship without fear.The fisherman’s son hefted his sharpened spear and made to thrust it down into the shark’s boiling gill.But the black shark began to glow and set the sea to boil and overflow, gnashing its shining teeth for the kill.”Deb exhales, soothing his nerves and closing his eyes. Deb brings the shark puppet down closer to the flame of the candle, letting the heat guide his hand in the familiar path. There is a brief moment where he fears it hasn’t worked, then he hears the soft gasp of the crowd — audible amazement and visual wonder. Deb understands this, he loves this. His eyes open and the boiler shark glows red. He remembers at the last second, and with his free hand, he sprinkles a pinch of toskar root into the flame, creating a steam-like visual. He hears the crowd gasp louder, pulling the air from the room. He grabs the puppet of the fisherman’s son, then continues to perform.The fisherman’s ship overturned, and the fisherman’s son fell to the sea.The glowing water churned, and the fisherman’s son could not see.The shark attacked the sinking son, its teeth sank into his lower half.The son thrust his spear into the dark eye, burying it to the shaft.The sea ceased to boil, the thrashing shark ceased to roil, the life fading from its eyes.The fisherman’s son ceased to toil, his anger proven disloyal, his strife dying away with his cries.”Deb slides his right leg back slowly, dramatically shuttering the stage curtains, ushering his entranced crowd back into this space. He speaks the final verses of the play as he does so, smothering the candle. The ferocious glow inside the black shark puppet begins to dull behind the curtain, and smoke from the candle drifts out around the stage. The final images are the silhouettes of a large curled shark, a fisherman in its mouth and a spear in its eye, the fisherman reaching up weakly toward the surface. This fading silhouette is coupled with Deb’s soft voice.“Take heed all ye consumed by anger, lest ye be devoured twice.For the boiler shark and the fisherman’s son both died of this vice.”Debinaud stands motionless, and the room sits silent. With only the complaints of leather, he shifts the box-like stage onto his back. No one claps. No one moves. He looks up toward the King who sits impassively slouched back, idly twisting his scepter. The King lifts it imperceptibly and lets it clink against the Throne of Seas. The tingling high note sings out and the King’s Right Hand steps forth. Deb doesn’t hear anything the man says, his mind fixated on the task of deciphering the weathered King’s face, the unknowable language of lines and thought. Without pomp or ceremony, the dessert’s are ushered out. Vast, overburdened trays of sweetbread and feecakes and other delectables. Deb dislikes the opulence of the palace, and he makes his way out of the throne room unnoticed.When he passes through the outer gate, he hears his birth name called as a question,“Debinaud?”He turns to see the favored prince, Bornidin the younger. Deb goes still and the Prince approaches to a distance almost conversational, yet still removed. The prince points a thumb over his shoulder, “You’re lucky father didn’t recognize your voice.”Deb shifts the weight of his stage, “He never spoke to me enough to learn the sound of it, I suppose.”A ghost of pain squirms across Bornidin’s face. “Is that what you think of him then? The whaler.”“Fisherman.”Bornidin grips his forehead and sighs, “I’m sorry, Deb. You know how he is, though.”“I do, I only hope you do too.” Deb watches his older brother for anger, but he does not see it. “You don’t have to share any more than his name, you know?”“I know…”Deb stands, the city at his back, and watches his older brother, the palace at his. He turns and walks away, not saying anything more. Bornidin watches him go, but before Deb is beyond hearing, he calls out, “It’s a good play.”Deb pauses, smiles to himself, then walks on and away. Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Four) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Six)12th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the 29th Year of King Bornidin the Young’s Reign, 126th Reckoned YearFollow the rainbow, we’ll leave you a sign’, so I look for treasure to find.All my loves have gone away, away, sailed away.All the suns have set away, away, set away.They left behind, treasures to find, and riches there untold.So I will follow, through sea and hollow, an’ seek my loves gold.All my loves have gone away, away, sailed away.All the suns have set away, away, set away.Left me alone, no love to call my own, but with gold yet to find.Behind, they left me, alone lost at sea, with treasure on my mind.So I follow the rainbow, to treasure left behind…From ‘Treasure Left Behind’, Shanty Composed by Benafield of Broadfell in the 123rd Reckoned YearPetsune grumbles in annoyance at his climb up to the crow’s nest. Chapel’s insult of him being slow makes him even more irritated, so he answers peevishly, “I don’t think priests' robes were made with rigging in mind…” Looking at the goofy smile on Captain Chapel’s half obscured face, Petsune finds himself impossibly disarmed and annoyed at the same time. “So, Captain, is there any particular reason you brought me up here?” The Captain points his fancy white eyeglass away from Petsune and continues scanning the sea, then says, “Nope.”“No?”Chapel turns the whole way round and is facing away from Petsune and then says, “Not any particular reason, no. I happened to be up here. You happened to be down there.”Chapel doesn’t say anything else, just scans the endless horizon. Petsune says with annoyance, “How very considerate of you.”For some reason, he finds himself comfortable enough around Chapel to be making snarky comments. The Captain doesn’t say anything, so Petsune follows the angle of his eyeglass, squinting to see what he’s looking at. Petsune strains to make out anything of interest, to no avail, but Chapel speaks up again, “Are you afraid of heights, Pet?”Petsune relaxes his gaze and looks at Chapel, who is still gazing through his eyeglass. “Heights? No, I uh, I never had problems with heights…”Chapel turns to meet Petsune’s gaze, his eyeglass lowered and the goofy smirk is gone, supplanted by a look of seriousness and gravity. The captain locks eyes with Petsune and inquires, “And what are you afraid of?”The shift in tone is so jarring that for a moment Petsune forgets his comfortability and recalls all the nagging questions he has. Could this strange man be a decoy Captain? Maybe Mavis is the true Captain and this is a pirate vessel? Maybe they sent him up here to keep him out of the way… Chapel’s gaze is still fixed on Petsune, so he begins stammering out a reply, “Scared? I, uh, I’m not scared. Of anything. Or I mean, I am, um scared - not of you, of course, your perfectly nice hah… I’m just, um, well I’m…” Through all the stuttering, the Captain keeps his gaze on Petsune. He finally gets out an answer, “I’m… I’m scared of the water… well not just water, but uh deep water. There’s so many dangerous and um big creatures out there, that’s what’s scary. I suppose.”Chapel stares into Petsune’s soul a few seconds longer and then replies, “Yeah, there are big things out there. And you probably should be afraid of them. The sea is not a safe place. It demands respect,” And then the goofy smile returns, and he adds, “but it’s fun. Not to mention beautiful: the things you witness out here… Gives you perspective.”With that, the Captain takes up his eyeglass and begins scanning the nearby waters again. Petsune is left feeling flustered, so he doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he looks around and still doesn’t see what the Captain is looking for, so he speaks up, “Why are you up here? What exactly are you looking for?”The Captain doesn’t leave off his scanning of the waters, but responds in his usual friendly carefree manner, “You remember where we’re going?”“Yes, you said you’re sailing for Ginders Port, right?”“Right. They call it Ginders Port because it lies along the migration path of the ginder rays that come down from the Green Sea in the east.”“Okay… so you’re… looking for Ginders?” Petsune replies incredulously, “aren’t they supposed to be harmless?”At this, the Captain collapses his eyeglass and looks at Petsune with a smirk, “Didn’t I just get done telling you the sea isn’t safe? Have you ever seen a ginder, Pet? They are two towers wide, and a tower long.”“I’m not familiar with this measurement, is it a whaling term?”“Yeah. A tower is 100 feet.”“Oh… so… oh… wow. That’s bigger than I thought…”The captain’s smirk broadens and he says, “Remember what I said about respecting the things out there? A good sized ginder could accidentally capsize a boat that isn’t paying attention.”Then he extends his eyeglass and resumes his vigil. For the next ten minutes Chapel scans the horizon, and Petsune sits idly. He is looking around the vast open ocean, with its glittering blue surface and featureless horizon. Below them, someone is singing in a deep voice, and Petsune finds himself enraptured by the voice and song as it drifts out across the water. It is both sad and sweet in a way, he thought only the hymns of church could be.Petsune is almost startled right out of the nest when Chapel yells out, “Ginders, portside! Hold the Lady steady!”Petsune recomposes himself and can’t help but think, “such a commanding voice… it hardly sounded like him…” With this thought, Petsune realizes that Chapel isn’t the one steering the boat. He wonders who is, and finds his mind returning to earlier concerns. Could Chapel be some kind of distraction while the true captain runs the ship? If they could distract him until they get rid of him at Ginders, he wouldn’t have time to ask questions. That would make sense if this was in fact a pirate ship. But before he can think too much about this, he sees one of the most beautiful and terrifying things he has ever witnessed. Huge diamond-shaped shadows begin surfacing from deeper below, each one with a spike-like tail longer than two main-masts trailing along behind. The closer they get to the surface, the more detail Petsune can see. They are flapping their four underwater wings in a more graceful version of flight. The tips of the top wings on the ginders closest to the boat break through the surface with a white spray of mist, leaving two wakes 170 feet apart. Petsune watches as a huge 100-foot ginder glides directly under the ship, and he marvels at being able to see both wingtips on either side of the boat. The tail alone stretches out behind for over 100 feet and is still going under the ship when Petsune looks off to the sides. Hundreds of ginders are migrating through here, each doing the slow dance of flapping their wings and occasionally breaking the surface. The imposing shadows of each ginder ray as they glide just below the surface is both a breathtaking and terrifying experience.Petsune looks to Chapel and wonders if this is as incredible to him, since he probably sees this type of thing often. One glimpse of Chapel’s face and Petsune can tell it is still an awesome experience. One of the smaller ginders is so close to the surface that Petsune can see the scratches and scrapes on its back, probably from predators or ships. As if in confirmation of this, the smaller ginder passes under the boat and Petsune feels a slight bump. This causes the boat to rock on its keel and the crow’s nest sways wildly. Petsune feels certain the mast will snap, and he ends up hugging the mast tightly as the ship settles. The ginder rays seem to continue endlessly, surfacing from deeper waters to loom just below the surface as immense shadows. Petsune thinks aloud as they watch, “Why are they surfacing here?”Chapel responds while looking through his eyeglass, down at the passing shadows, “They feed on smaller fish like runnykit, gipps, and fee. Those fish all happen to follow ships pretty closely and feed off the refuse and scraps left behind.” Chapel hands his eyeglass over to Petsune and says, “take a look”.Petsune carefully takes the proffered eyeglass, marveling at its beauty, and places it over his left eye, making small adjustments to focus it. Off the portside of the ship, Petsune can now see more detail. Some of the white frothy wakes of water are actually fish leaping up and away from the passing giants. As one of the ginders draws closer, Pet can now see that the lower set of wide-reaching wings have been curled below the ray to form a funnel. The rays swim at the fish and funnel them with their lower wings, forcing food into their mouths. The mouth of the ginder ray lay most of the way back on their underside. Petsune watches in awe as the massive beasts glide by, just below the ship. After five minutes of watching the migrating rays, the last few stragglers pass the ship and there are no longer sounds of splashing fish or curious ginders bumping the hull. Instead, there is the sound of lightly lapping waves, creaking ropes, and the soft snick of Chapel’s eyeglass as he closes it. The Captain looks to Petsune with a sort of beatific smile on his face and he says, “Well, that never gets old.”Without warning, the Captain leans backward and falls out of the nest. Petsune screams in fright and dives to the edge of the nest to see if the Captain is alright. He is standing on a branch that was just out of view from where Petsune was sitting, and he is laughing merrily as he continues to descend through the far apart branches. Petsune feels all of his earlier conflicting emotions of annoyance and respect return just as quick as they left. He descends from the nest in the intended way; via rigging and ropes. Petsune slips at the last possible rung of rope and falls to the deck with a rather heavy thud. He gets up and dusts off unseen dirt, then looks around to ensure no one saw. To his dismay, two of the crew are stifling laughter and pretending they are working. Seeking to assuage his growing embarrassment, Petsune decides to see who is piloting the ship. He looks to where the ship wheel is and is unsurprised by what he sees.There, Petsune sees a very pirate-looking Mavis steering the ship. Mavis is wearing a trifold hat that looks nailed onto his head, a worn-out waistcoat that’s unbuttoned, and a long old overcoat that a smaller man could get lost in, not to mention several guns strapped on with leather belts. The somewhat intimidating look of Mavis reminds Petsune of his earlier questions: is this a pirate ship? Who is the real captain? And why does it change its sails? Materializing from nowhere, Chapel is behind Petsune, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Petsune yells out, “Saints!” and the same two crew members from earlier burst out in uproarious laughter.The Captain exclaims with a burst of energy, “Now! Introductions!”, then he’s leading Petsune off somewhere with a hand on his back; a gesture Petsune is becoming very familiar with.(Previous Chapter Four) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Six)While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Three) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Five)12th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the 29th Year of King Bornidin the Young’s Reign, 126th Reckoned YearHow high can the tower whale breach?As high as the strength of his tail will take him.How tall can the tower vine grow?As tall as the deepest part of the sea.How far can a good ship sail?As far as the strong wind will blow her.From ‘Musings of the Hollow Trees’, Composed by Ini-Mo-Kiri-Ko-Mini, Hollow Tree, in the 90th Reckoned YearPetsune was led vaguely about the ship in a frenzied tour that he neither asked for nor remembers, then back into the captain's quarters to sleep. He was shown to the large chest along the wall, which was stuffed so full of fabrics that a lumpy pile of cloth spilled out over the sides. The lid to the chest laid open acutely on its hinges and some semblance of a pillow sat atop the pile, eagerly awaiting his head. He slept fitfully and is feeling far from rested as he finally opens his eyes. He can recall bits and pieces of a strange dream. Father Haltur was sitting on the edge of the Window to the Deep, and when Petsune looked around he saw every person he had ever known. When he looked back to Father Haltur, he was seated instead on the Throne of Seas, the glowing white throne of Saintstone and the place where King Bornidin the Younger ought to have been. And where the Church of the Deep ought to have been was now the Royal throne room. Then he became aware that everyone he knew was shouting, yelling out condemnations and insults and slanders. Father Haltur raised his hand and the room went silent, but that’s all he remembers. Petsune can feel the heat of shame and embarrassment again as he recalls the scene vividly. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and then feels a sudden impact on his stomach.Petsune folds upward as though a deadweight was dropped in his gut, smacking his head against the chest lid. “Ow! What the depths?” He is suddenly getting aggressively licked by a long, wet tongue and based on his interactions with the strange crew of the ship, he’s not entirely sure that it’s an animal. Once he gets his hands on the thing, he finds the long, wet tongue belongs to a runt-sized billypug. The small dog-like creature has it’s front two paws on Petsune’s chest, and it’s back four paws in his gut and groin. The billypug continues investigating Petsune and seems to conclude that he tastes poorly, scampering off out the open cabin door. Petsune wipes the drool from his face and looks around in shock for anything else ready to assault him from the shadows. Convinced the area is secure, he gingerly begins unfurling himself from the blanket-type things he slept in. It suddenly strikes Petsune that he has no idea what ship this is. In all of the confusion and chaos, he neglected to ask what the name of this strange vessel was. He will have to ask Captain Chapel, if he can find him. Petsune grips the edge of the chest and heaves himself out, unceremoniously flopping to the decking like a lardfee. He moans and wishes he had a wake-me beetle, or at least some coffee, to lessen the grogginess.Before he’s done groaning he hears a voice from inside the room somewhere, “Not very graceful, for a priest. You are not like those I’ve dealt with before.”Petsune gazes around and realizes he has once again mistaken the huge man for a support beam or wall. Petsune attempts to recover some dignity and rises, dusting off his robe, “Well, ahem, I’m not royalty. None of the churches believe in grace or poise. Ahem.”“Oh, aye? I should think poison would work just fine, believed in or not.”Petsune blinks a few times, “That’s not what… um, nevermind. I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced? I am Petsune - and you are?”Petsune holds out his hand in hopes of receiving a friendly handshake and a name. The big man pauses, seeming to quickly size up Pet, then gives a smile. He speaks as he shakes Petsunes outstretched hand, “Yes, aye. Our very own Pet Priest —Hah!” The man is so huge that when he grasps Petsunes hand, a quarter of his arm ends up in the man’s shake too. This causes Petsunes entire body to be shaken in the greeting. The huge man continues to speak as he kindly shakes Petsune like a doll, “I am Benafield, but everybody calls me Big Man, on account of my size.”“ReAlLy, iS tHaT wHy?” Petsune tries to say through clattering teeth.“Oh, a funny priest as well as clumsy. I may actually come to like you, Pet. Much better than the other kinds of priests.” His low laughing only makes him shake with greater energy.Petsune is led out of the cabin and into the searing daylight by the Big Man’s huge hand and his deep and mirthful laughter. He gets the feeling he likes the Big Man, despite almost having his arm torn off. As Petsune is led somewhere, he asks, “Why is there a billypug aboard the ship? I thought they couldn’t swim?”“What? You mean Bungle? He is for good luck. Every whaling ship has a billypug, if they are worth their salt. Bungle cannot swim good, but he is a drowned good climber, so he does alright.”At this point, Petsune realizes two things at the same time; the Big Man called this a whaling vessel, and the ship's sails are now red. He looks back toward the Big Man and asks, “Wait, I thought this was a merchant vessel? The sails were green, weren’t they?”“Hmm? Oh, aye, they were. We fly many colors.” The Big Man responds distractedly, as he looks around for something. Fly many colors? What was that supposed to mean? And come to think of it, was the Big Man watching him sleep? That seems a bit strange… Then the thought struck him suddenly and it felt as though it fell into his stomach like Bungle, “what if this is a pirate vessel?” Didn't Mavis look more like a pirate than a merchant? Weren’t they a little too keen on him staying?Petsunes glances worriedly back to the Big Man who still seems to be looking for something. As his thoughts travel down ever darker routes, the Big Man exclaims, “Ah, there he is! He is never where he is supposed to be, but always where you need him. Aye, you will have to climb up to him, little Pet.” Petsune sees the huge hand cast a shadow above him and looks up to where it’s pointing: the crow’s nest, more aptly named here than anywhere. The crow’s nest is made to look like an actual nest perched high in the branches that sprout off the main mast. Petsune is once again awestruck by how beautiful this ship is. The main mast perfectly replicates a tree trunk rising into the air, with numerous branches sprouting off at different places to hold different things. Underneath the beauty however, there are unanswered questions. Where did this beautiful ship come from, and more curiously, why hasn’t he been thrown off it?Before Petsune has time to ask more questions, the Big Man is giving him a gentle shove toward the main mast’s rigging. Petsune follows the ropes with his eyes to the point where Captain Chapel is perched, and feels his palms begin to sweat. He finds himself gaping up at the height he is supposed to ascend to. He ambles forward, heedless of several dozen things going on around him that he either interrupts or narrowly misses being injured by; Cheese throwing knives at a hunk of wood, an unknown crew member who let a barrel slip loose and roll down past Pet, and a pitmite being chased around by Sprig wielding something large and blunt. Petsune reaches the rigging still gazing distractedly upwards, and he places a hand on the ropes still in a daze. Sprig finally vanquishes his rolling foe with a loud splat and crunch, which brings Petsune out of his stupor. He looks over at Sprig who prods the rotund crab, then looks up flashing a gap-toothed smile and says, “Don’t fall!” Petsune swallows hard as he looks back to the poor pitmite. He places both hands on the ropes, grips tightly, and begins hoisting himself upward toward the nest.He gets his foot caught several times, and he slips frequently on the ropes, but he makes steady progress. About 20 feet up, Petsune looks around the ship below him. He sees a few crew members he doesn’t know the names of; an ambling boy attempting to stack barrels, an older man polishing the handrails of the quarterdeck, and a rough looking man cutting up bits of runnykit and lardfee, probably for a stew. Petsune’s thighs are beginning to ache and his hands are hurting too, so he finishes the climb with all haste. He passes by several branches, then finally mounts the one that leads to the crow’s nest. He climbs up through the small hole in the bottom and then out into the nest itself, finding it surprisingly spacious. Captain Chapel is sitting at the edge, looking at something on the horizon with his eyeglass. The telescoping device is evidently made of Saintstone as it shimmers in coruscant splendor in the suns light. He turns to Petsune with the shining white eyeglass still pressed against one eye. “Well, you certainly don’t pack a light kit, Pet. How was your climb?” Petsune can see a distorted version of the Captain's right eyeball blink in the lens of the eyeglass.(Previous Chapter Three) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Five)While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Two) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Four)11th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the 29th Year of King Bornidin the Young’s Reign, 126th Reckoned YearThere was a man who sought to know all secrets laid bare……and the man looked to the West in search of Truth, but saw only what lies there.And so he sailed on.There was a man who sought to know why evil does prevail……and the man looked to the North in search of Truth, but saw only what lies there.And so he sailed on.There was a man who sought to know why life is unfair……and the man looked to the East in search of Truth, but saw only what lies there.And so he sailed on.There was a man who sought to know why all things die……and the man looked to the South in search of Truth, but did not see what there lie.And so he sailed on.From ‘Sayings of Saint Wōde’, Order of Loss, Written by Saint Wōde in the Unreckoned YearsThe ship resembles one of the fruit trees you would find in a floating forest like Gar Hedron. The main mast is fashioned like a tree trunk sprouting two thick branches out to the port and starboard side. These first branches are holding the bottom of the sails, and other branches spout off further up the trunk, two of which hold the tops of the sails. The smaller mizzenmast also resembles a tree, just smaller in size. Then there are the roots that stem from the decking in wide arcs, out and down to the water. Petsune can tell they barely dip under the surface because when a slight wave rolls by you can see the bottoms of them. The ship, if it can be called that, resembles a tree that has grown out of a small merchant ship’s hull. It would be somewhat alarming if it wasn’t so overwhelmingly beautiful. Every other ship in the port is a fairly standard vessel, though some of them have embellishments and accouterments; a copper plated bottom, supposedly for speed but more as a sign of wealth and status; elaborate designs in the railings and molding; or an immense figurehead that stretches halfway down the sides of the ship.The strange tree-ship is unlike any of these and is far more beautiful. It has green sails, but Petsune finds himself wondering how such a beautiful and undoubtedly expensive ship could be used for shipping goods: it almost seems like a crime. It appears too otherly in this port full of standard ships, and despite it being smaller, it seems more luxurious - more important. If King Bornidin the Younger were to walk up onto the decks and sail away on it, Petsune would not be surprised: it has the look of a Royal pleasure craft. But no royalty show up. The more he studies the ship, the more enthralled he becomes, until without realizing it, he is walking up the gangway to board the gorgeous vessel, as though drawn to it. There is no one aboard the ship, or any of the nearby ones either. He walks up and down the decking, gazing up at the branches and sails, then he begins running his hands along the railing where the strange roots sprout from, leading down to the surface of the water. He feels a connection with this marvelous ship, almost a kinship. As he is admiring the incredible craftsmanship, he realizes it must have been created using Saintstone implements, which means that it is indeed a very expensive ship. It must have some type of ostentatious purpose: to be seen and admired.Saintstone can only be found in the iceberg fields above Coldor, and deep in the mountains of Broadfell. When the Coldor Cleave betrayed the Alliance, Broadfell became the only of the three Allied nations with naturally occurring deposits. There isn’t as much in the mountains of the Keep, which is why it has become so expensive. Despite this, the only persons who are skilled enough to craft something as exquisite as this ship are from Dintish Mass. Dintish Mass, more commonly called The Royal Mass, is known for its craftsmen of all kinds, most working exclusively with Saintstone as both tool and material to create seamless and divine works. Petsune gazes around at the gorgeous handiwork. Everything from the railings, made to look grown into place, to the beautiful pattern of roots seamlessly inlaid into the decking. Petsune follows the incredible root patter of woodwork and finds it leading out to the root-like appendages that sprout off of the ship and down to the water. He stares at the strange roots, fascinated by them, then turns to stare up at the masts made to look like trees. He is in awe of the beauty, contemplating its creation, when he hears voices on the dock. Suddenly brought out of his amazed stupor, he realizes the voices are headed his way. With feelings of panic and shame, he sneaks back toward the quarter deck in hopes of dismounting the boat, only to find no gangway. The only way on or off the boat now has two of the ship's crew members on it, and Petsune realizes with a pit in his stomach and a flash of fear that he must fess up to poking around the place, or hide. He hides.Trying the door under the quarterdeck, Petsune finds it open and hastily but quietly enters. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dark cabin area, and he quickly spots a place he can hide. He has no idea how to get out of this situation without bringing down the wrath of Father Haltur, and thus potentially being excommunicated from the Church. He is plotting when he can escape the vessel unnoticed, crouching behind a somewhat ambiguous shape that is either two barrels or a strange chest. Outside on the main deck, more than half a dozen voices are conversing and jesting. There’s even someone singing sea shanties rather loudly. Petsune is crouching behind the lumpy shape and listening, praying to all four Saints that the rather boisterous crew doesn’t find him. He listens intently and is able to catch snatches of what they are saying.“…can’t wait till we make Ginders.”“…best lardfee stew this side of the Straits, but don’t tell Bor.”“Well, now we’ve got the merchandise offloaded, we can make way for Ginders. Should only take a few days...”It doesn’t take long for Petsune to realize the ship is not making port here really, just restocking on some essentials and selling off some of their more cumbersome cargo.As if in sardonic reply to Petsune’s thoughts, the ship lurches slightly as the anchor is drawn in and ropes are untied from the dock. His mind scrambles to think of a way out of this ridiculous situation when he hears a voice just behind him that makes him almost yelp in surprise. The voice comes from behind and slightly above Petsune and disinterestedly asks, “…what’re you doing?” Petsune whirls around looking for the source of the voice, praying it’s only a prattle beak repeating something it heard. He squints his eyes and scans the area but doesn’t see anything. That is until the blob on the wooden beam near the ceiling talks, “Pretty sure you’re not supposed to be in here. Last I checked, we didn’t have any priests on board. And I checked pretty recently.” The blob turns out to be a man laying face-up on a ceiling truss, one leg hanging down, lackadaisical. The blob in the rafter speaks again, “Listen: I dunno why you’re in here, but I won’t say anything if you don’t.” Petsune can’t see in the dark cabin, but he’s reasonably sure the blob just winked at him.Petsune is thoroughly confused and still panicky, so he hesitantly asks the shape on the truss, “…you won’t tell on me? I just need off this boat, then you’ll never see me again.”To which the shadow replies with a snort, “Hah, tell on you? You make it sound like you’re a school boy! Ahh… no, no I won’t tell on you.”Petsune is quickly becoming more confused than panicky as the interaction lengthens. In his confusion, Petsune asks, “but… why? I’m trespassing… aren’t I?”The shape in the rafters again laughs a reply, “Saints only know what you're up to, schoolboy, but I’m hiding too. So, if I tell on you, I’d be telling on me too, and that simply wouldn’t do.”“So… you’re trespassing too?” Petsune asks, but the figure replies rather hastily.“In a way. Now, if you’re staying in here, be quiet and pick a better spot: I suggest inside that chest there, they’ve never found me in there before. And if you’re going to tell on yourself, kindly leave me out of it.”Petsune blinks several times, trying to figure out what in the depths is going on. The ship begins to move discernibly, and his nonplussed look is supplanted with a not unpleasant thought: he is leaving Thune Mass.Petsune begins to ask the shadow on the truss a question but cuts it off when he hears soft snoring coming from that area. Realizing there is nothing to be done now, Petsune figures the best course of action is to reveal himself rather than be discovered, and to plead for mercy at the feet of the Captain. With great trepidation, he rises from behind the barrel and begins making his way to the cabin door. The voice in the rafter speaks again, “if you’re going to tell, best do it to Mavis - only guy with a serious beard - and be sure to call him captain.”“Thanks…” Petsune says, without turning around.The figure in the rafter whispers a final addendum as Petsune leaves, “-and remember, I’m not here.” Petsune pauses briefly, then continues walking out the door, onto the main deck. The sudden shift from dark cabin to searing daylight physically hurts his eyes, and he finds himself reflexively covering his entire face.Unable to see, Petsune trips over a coil of thick rope almost as soon as he’s out on the main deck. He lurches forward into something solid and is knocked down flat on his back. Still shielding his eyes and attempting to adjust, Petsune peeks from behind his robed arm and sees what he assumes is the main mast, until the shadow of the main mast sprouts two arms that are subsequently placed on the mast’s hips in disapproval. “Got a stowaway, Mavis! It’s a drowning priest.”The hulking shadow roars in a voice as deep as the sea. Petsune’s eyes mostly adjust while he contemplates the enormous man he ran smack into. He can’t see well enough, but he’s pretty sure any person this large must be a Fellbin of Broadfell Keep. Then, from a distance, he hears more yelling in response, “Ah, drown it all! A stowaway? Delód ’s breath… What exactly were you doing back here, Cheese?”“What? Not me! - wasn’t my turn to babysit the Lady!” A female voice replies defensively. Petsune hadn’t stopped to consider that the shadow in the rafters might not be the strangest person onboard. Looking away from the enormous silhouetted Broadfell man, Petsune’s squinted eyes land on the person he presumes is called Cheese, and then he sees a large, bearded man who must be Captain Mavis. He looks far more like a pirate than a merchant, and Petsune is really wishing he would've thought this through more.Petsune is still sort of lying on the deck, so he gets a foot under himself and rises to one knee while the bearded Captain Mavis approaches. “Ca…Captain Mavis, I presume?”Petsune inquires in what he hopes isn’t a trembling voice. Behind the Captain, Petsune notices several of the crew begin snickering. Captain Mavis replies, “What, who told you that?”Petsune assumes the Captain is referring to who revealed his name, but before he can reply, Mavis is speaking again, “How many times do I have to say this: it’s First Mate Mavis, not Captain! That stunt on Folders Fill was a one time thing.”Behind Mavis, the woman called Cheese and the massive man that Petsune ran into have begun outright laughing. First Mate Mavis shoots a rather scalding look toward the hulking man and Cheese, and they both shut up, minus a final stifled snort. The First Mate eyes Petsune warily, speaking with a slight venomous edge, “What’s a Salt-blood doin’ on our ship?”Petsune manages to get up on his feet and stutter out a reply, “I… I was just, um, admiring your-or-uh the ship and then the crew came back on and they, um, they startled me. So I… I hid…”Mavis listens and Petsune can’t seem to read his expression at all, so he hastily adds, “I wasn’t planning on staying! On… stowing away… I was going to get off but before I knew it the boat was moving and… and…” Petsune trails off, staring at the indecipherable bearded face of First Mate Mavis.Petsune can feel the cold stares of the First Mate, when he suddenly realizes that the ship is nowhere near Thune Mass. Staring around him in search of some sign of the mass, Petsune feels something brush his robes and exclaims in surprise when he looks down to see a child with his hem in it’s grimy little hands. “Oh, depths! You startled me… Where did you come from?”The child ignores Petsune’s exclamation, and studies his robes intently. Upon satisfying whatever curious urge he had, the child looks up at Petsune with a strangely ambiguous look - was that jealousy, or perhaps distrust?“Sprig, get off the priest! He doesn’t have pockets, so quit checkin’.” Yells Mavis.The boy screws up his face in disgust and scampers off to places unseen, muttering something like “drowned priests… never have any pockets…”.Petsune is perturbed now that he realizes the boy was fingering his robes in hopes of nabbing some scales, and also mortified at the language the child used. The First Mate begins shouting, but not at Petsune, “Somebody find the General an’ get ‘em out here - I want this priest taken to the captain’s quarters till we figure out what to do with ‘em.”Petsune notices a few wary glances exchanged behind Mavis’s back.A rather lanky man speaks up in his foreign accent, “Uh, Mr. Mavis, sir?”Mavis whorls around and finally notices the concern that Petsune has been reading on every crew member's face. “What is it, Shush?”“Well, sir, this thing you ask - maybe is not such a good idea, at this moment? The General found them - the rum stores, sir. Is not a good moment for him, I’m thinking.”Petsune watches Mavis’s expression shift from anger to disappointment to something like pity, and then he speaks, “I’ll deal with the General later. Right now, you - Shushilah - take the priest to the Captain's quarters. Bor! - Bor?! Has anyone seen the drowned cook? Cheese, go find the cook an’ tell ‘em to whip up something that’ll coaxe our beloved Captain out of whatever hole he’s in. An’ tell ‘em to start up a fickwill tincture for the General: I want that man sober before I get to ‘em. And as for you, priest - what’s your name?”Petsune cowers slightly and just manages to get his name out, “uh…Petsune… sir…”“Right, Petsune, your walkin’ on a very fine rope here an’ if you’re as wise as your type claims, you’ll know not to push it.”Mavis turns and walks away and Petsune feels a hand on his shoulder that is not unkind, guiding him toward the door he stumbled out of a few minutes ago.Petsune turns and sees that the man with the foreign accent, Shushilah, is the one whose hand is guiding him. He must be Filkish, with that strange lilting accent. He speaks warmly to Petsune, “Don’t be afraid of the First Mate, is a nice guy, yeah? He is the hard hand, an the Captain - he is… well he is the Captain. An the crew, they need the hard hand at this moment.”Petsune gives Shushilah a poor attempt at a smile and enters the captain's quarters to await his judgement from the master of the vessel. What did Shushilah intend to say of the Captain? Is he a harder man than the First Mate? Is he crazy? Is he… a Royal? That would at least explain the beautiful boat. These questions consume Petsune’s mind as he waits. Outside, the sounds of a ship at full sail can be heard, alongside calls from the First Mate. The woman called Cheese is below the room Petsune is in, and she sounds like she is rolling barrels or perhaps disemboweling a bench.The strange sounds from below are interrupted by a nonchalant voice, “Oh you’re back - you didn’t tell them, did you?” Petsune looks to the rafters but the figure is no longer there. “Down here.” comes a voice from the chest Petsune hid behind earlier, though now it’s slightly opened.“…uhh, no… I didn’t.”“Good, good…”Petsune becomes slightly impetulant, realizing how this figure had set him up. “Why did you tell me to call him Captain; you knew he’d get upset, didn’t you!”“What, Mavis? Upset? He’s always like that, don’t worry. You probably had little to do with it.”“Well now I’m stuck in here, waiting for the Captain, who will probably shoot me or drown me or… or… hang me!”“What? Why would I do that? I kinda like you. You didn’t tell on me.”Petsune freezes and there’s an almost audible clink as all the pieces fit together in his mind, “You’re the captain?!”“Yeah.”“Then why the depths are you hiding in here?!” Petsune yells.“Because it’s the last place they’d look: the captain's quarters.”“By the Saints! I wish I never set foot on this cursed boat! Every one of you is… is… is… crazy or something!”“You know, I’ve never heard a priest swear so much.”“Shut up!”“Whoa now, let’s just calm dow-““Don’t tell me to be calm! You tricked me, you lied.”“I didn’t lie, exactly, I just didn’t tell you who I was.”“And why not? And why are you hiding!”There was a slight awkward pause where Petsune’s shouting seemed to hang in the air, then the Captain answered. “I like it in here.”“Oh, for Saints sake… what could possibly be so great about a cramped chest?”“Well, there’s usually no one yelling at me in here, for starters.” Petsune’s timid demeanor with the First Mate has almost entirely evaporated and he is quickly becoming his usual self.Petsune lets out an exaggerated sigh, “So… what do I do now? Are you going to throw me overboard or something?”The lid to the chest slowly opens, but not the whole way. The top of a head and a set of aged eyes become visible over the lip of the chest. Strange, Petsune thought he sounded younger. The mysterious Captain says, “I’m not opposed to a good toss overboard… but…” The Captain rises out of his chest and Petsune sees that he in fact is young, very young for a captain; but those eyes? They seem so old, but he couldn’t be more than 30 years. As he stands up in his chest the Captain continues his train of thought, “but… we really shouldn’t give a Deepblood over to the sea, even if Delód is your Saint of choice.”Petsune mutters softly, “…well that’s comforting…”The Captain continues as if he didn’t hear him. “Unfortunately for you, we can’t go back to Thune - bad luck to backtrack - and our next Mass is Ginders: a three-day sail.”Petsune finds he isn’t upset by this information at all, in fact he thinks he may be slightly… pleased. Without really intending to, he speaks aloud, mostly to himself, “There really isn’t anything left for me on Thune Mass, so perhaps a fresh start would do me good… ” Petsune realizes he’s speaking aloud, and stops, looking up to the Captain to see his reaction. The Captain seems to be oblivious to anything Petsune has said, and perhaps anything at all, since he’s looking down at his feet inside the chest and shuffling around slightly, inching this way and that: is he measuring it? Petsune asks something he realizes he hasn’t had the chance to yet, “I never got your name? You’re Captain… what?”He looks up at Petsune with a somewhat dumb expression and says, “Captain Chapel, at your service!” with a slight flourish and bow and then he asks, “how tall are you?”(Previous Chapter Two) (Book Homepage & Chapter List) (Next Chapter Four)While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter) (Book Homepage and Chapter List) (Next Chapter)11th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the 29th Year of King Bornidin the Young’s Reign, 126th Reckoned YearThere is a sweet and ancient song that plays when life gives way. A gentle breeze brings a whispered word with precious little to say. The sound of collapse kills off the quiet long sat with.And the end comes quick and confident.The soft face of death appears unbidden at the door, and she lets herself in without a whisper. She is darkness and stars and love and pain. She is all the things they say of her. A swift reaping of souls wrought by a pale hand, heavy laden with the burden.And the Painful Lady comes silently and unseen.From ‘Musings of the Hollow Trees’, Composed by Oyo-Po-No-Poyo, Hollow Tree, in the 90th Reckoned YearWhen he awakens in the early morning, Petsune is greeted by the sound of a few other Deepbloods chatting nearby. Pard is speaking when Petsune first begins listening, “I heard he’s a drowned Coldor, and that’s why he hasn’t got a scale to his name - Saint’s know those backstabbing heathens all live in squalor. Guess worshiping the devil doesn’t pay well.”Petsune lies on his rock-hard cot, facing the wall, his eyes open, though he doesn’t move. He can just barely hear Benalewit’s response, “Aye. He is a bit dull, I think. Not much depth to those waters.”There’s a mixture of laughs and snickers, until Petsune rises from his cot. The jeering ends abruptly, leaving a silence in its wake, pregnant with unspoken insults. Petsune goes to collect his three meager possessions, and finds they are missing. He sighs loudly, then walks over to the quietly smirking pair. Petsune holds out his hand, hoping this can be over with little more than a laugh at his expense. He receives only icy stares from the two boys, so he says simply, “May I have my things, please?”But Pard replies spitefully, “Recite some verse for us first. You should’ve learned enough by now, right? What with all the time you spent copying manuscripts in all of your churches.”Benalewit chuckles a loud and deep laugh. Petsune tries to bite his tongue, but it seems to speak without his permission, “The sea is not deceived.”“What?”Petsune replies before he has time to consider his words, “It’s an old Coldor expression, ‘the sea is not deceived’. It means the Saints see all true intentions. And yes, I have learned quite a lot of verse.”The two look at each other with wide eyes at Petsune’s brash words. Benalewit speaks first, in quiet tones, “He knows the verses of the Cleave… Only a Coldor would know something like that.”Pard spits out an insult. “Devil worshiper!”Petsune spots his things under the blanket of the cot, and he grabs them without asking. Pard continues and says, “See, I told you he’s one of them!” But Petsune simply walks away, leaving them to whisper their insults and slanders. He doesn’t really know why he said what he did, it just gets him so riled up whenever someone spews hatred at his people. Then, as always, he is forced to confront the facts: there were hundreds of witnesses who saw the Coldor Cleave attempt to kill the Fellpost of Broadfell Keep, and the North War which followed was a bloody one. The Coldor killed many but ultimately the Dintish navy’s prowess won out. Pet finds his stomach twisting as he admits these facts once again wishing he knew what happened that day. When he exits the sleeping quarters, the Second Sun is rising just above the horizon. He enters the sanctuary and walks down the aisle to the Window. He kneels in front of it and looks into the depths through crystal clear water, marveling at the unknown abyss below.He prays a familiar prayer in a hushed and reverent voice, invoking the name of the Saints, “Nüm of life, guide me through your Saints: Delód, let me change like the sea. Wōde, let me steal only to give. Ründ, let me bend so that I might not break.” Then, in a breathless whisper he adds the fourth Saint of Coldor, almost out of spite, “Vésh, let their hatred end so that something else can begin.”Petsune opens his eyes and stands. Suddenly, Father Haltur is there on the other side of the Window, beckoning him over. He begins speaking as though their conversation yesterday never occurred, “Petsune, I need you to make a trip to the markets today. The Church larder is looking a bit sad as of late. Zenisen has been complaining of, let’s see, how did he put it… Ah yes, ‘Little food an’ a lotta vittle weevils’. See if you can remedy his ailments, please.” Petsune is handed a list written in a beautiful script. He nods and turns to leave but Father Haltur speaks again, softly this time, “And Petsune? Do avoid arguing with the street criers, for both our sakes.” Petsune nearly smirks, then he is out the door and into the ferry.Though every Church of the Deep is separated from its mass, some have more elaborate ferry systems than others. Thune Mass has a modest Church, possessing a simple raft: a large Gar lily in full bloom, carved from wood, making a raft out of the twelve-foot flower blossom. Petsune pulls himself the short distance across the water, back to the dock on Thune Mass. He considers how he has never seen the floating forests of Gar Hedron, or even a true Gar lily. His whole life has been spent right here on Thune Mass, at least all that he is able to remember. There are snatches, frozen moments that he can remember of being brought to Thune Mass - the gentle rocking of a ship, a tall tree against a gray sky, the warmth of a fire — but most is lost to time. Petsune steps off the ferry and begins walking toward the markets. With the Second Sun having fully risen, people have begun to emerge from houses and shops. The streets have yet to be filled by the clamor of crowds, the criers and vendors hawking their wares. The mass is still sleepy and sparse, just the way Petsune likes it. The market is straight ahead of Petsune, and he walks right into the midst of it. He seems to wander aimlessly through the stalls and shops, no particular destination in mind, simply observing.Finally, after wandering some ways and enjoying the relative peace of early morning, he checks the list. In no hurry to finish his time away from Pard and Benalewit, he picks the first item on the list: lardfee. The fish market is easily found, with its strange and smelly catches. As he enters the stands that sell fish he sees huge bleeding chunks of unidentifiable creatures sitting on thick wooden tables. The meaty hunks bleed onto the table and into the street, and there are buzzets flying around everywhere. Petsune glances around, looking for a stand selling lardfee. He sees the ubiquitous stand selling milly juice — a market staple. He sees a small stall selling bucket-sized barrels of an oily substance, alongside reddish slabs of blubber. He walks on, looking for lardfee but more so just looking. A group of children run by chasing a billypug and dragging a thick bone on a string, and it almost knocks over a stack of the small barrels. The vendor shouts after them uselessly. A pair of royal guards, distinct in their blue colors, watches passively and the vendor waves them all off in an unappreciative gesture. Here is the stand both selling, and cooking, fish. There are the lumpy masses of lardfee, the lithe and more pricey runnykit, a few of the flat topandi, and some of both types of gipp, stout-nosed and snub-nosed. Lardfee is the cheapest fish in the market, but Deepbloods rarely indulge like the True Souls of the Sanctum do. Petsune requests a bundle of lardfee, and that it be added to the Churches tab. The stand owner picks out several cream-colored blobs the size of an arm, vaguely resembling a fish. They are wrapped in Gar-lily leaves and tied off with tower vine.Petsune consults the list, feeling steadily better as he wanders. The next item is bread, which is back past the Church and on the other end of the mass. Petsune turns around and heads that way, not at all upset at having to backtrack. Along the way, Petsune sees a few stands selling exotic wares he doesn’t recognize, the hauls of recently docked merchant vessels. He passes a large stand toward the end of the fish market, still in the process of being opened. The table is covered in ice and features tentacles and eyeballs from creatures unknown. As he reaches the end, he looks up at a large fisher shark hung up in the air between two poles, customers walking underneath without so much as a glance. There is a street crier shouting out the usual fearful message; “Beware the savage Coldors! They worship the devil, Vésh! They can curse you with a look!” This time however, Petsune spots an ornamental Saintstone dagger of the Sanctum on the crier’s waist and Pet is slightly surprised. The churches all condemn and rebuke the Coldor, but few, if any, send out street preachers. Why is the Sanctum so against the Coldor? He thinks the question but then remembers that Broadfell Keep Is closely associated with the Sanctum, and Coldor’s Cleave tried to assassinate the Fellpost of Broadfell. Petsune thinks of his own time as a True Soul and feels himself getting slightly angry. Petsune looks away, the anger simmering inside. Instead, he glances up at the huge fisher shark hung as both a trophy and sign of the fish market. Petsune stares at the shark, looking into its massive bulbous eye, totally devoid of life. Despite being dead, Petsune can almost swear to seeing malice there, in the milky black eye. He shudders and looks away from the thick and ropey tentacles of its face. Below the fisher shark, there is a stand for charting boats. Pet gazes longingly at the patron currently purchasing passage off-Mass. He glances away, ashamed at having wished to leave those who took him in. The Church is his whole identity. Yet, he can’t help but wonder at what else is out there. His conflicting emotions play across his face as he walks underneath the fisher shark, leaving the fish markets.He passes the ferry to the Church and continues on into the stands of freshly baked goods. There’s a small stand selling various plants and weeds used in making bread; a fruit stand selling grapples, whale fruit, and some other long thin fruit; and a vendor that has an impossibly large spread of delicious smelling treats strapped onto her chest like the stage of a Finger Weaver. When Petsune walks in front of her, she shouts out, “Milly cakes! Squidberry tarts!” and something else Petsune doesn’t catch. He is certain she can be heard all the way on the Royal Mass. Beside the boisterous vendor is a huge sprawling storefront with every kind of bread imaginable. Petsune walks away with a dozen Gar-lily wrapped loaves of dry bread. Out in the middle of the now bustling marketplace, Petsune checks the list Father Haltur gave him. Next item down is goat milk, which is past the baked goods market. He wanders in and out of the overburdened stalls, each seeming to burst with expertly made breads and treats.Out of the market, Petsune passes an illustrious, though sparsely populated, stall selling Saintstone items. The man behind the counter is dressed in the finer clothes of a Fellbin of Broadfell. Petsune walks on, not bothering to even look at the expensive, white things, each one seeming to glow with radiant splendor. He moves past the stall and sees the small stage of a Finger Weaver telling their stories. Pet watches the mysterious person with their black veil as they dexterously manipulate puppets and props. The story seems to be The Boiler Shark and the Whaler’s Son, but it's already started so it’s hard to tell. Petsune finds himself entranced by the storyteller's art, as almost anyone is by a Finger Weaver. He stands watching the young student of the Tapestry move a thick black shark, and is baffled when steam and a faint red glow emanate from the lifelike puppet. Petsune marvels at the art form and watches as the puppet of the boiler shark consumes the tiny whaling ship that is somehow being manipulated by the Weaver’s other hand. He is in awe, transfixed by the performance until the glint of something bright catches his eye.At first, he assumes it is from the stand of Saintstone items, but realizes it is in the other direction. Petsune squints and blocks the glare with his free hand, looking toward the place it came from. When he first looks, he doesn’t see the source, until he watches a small figure climb onto the canvas awning above a fruit stand and then leap over to an adjacent stall. It is the thief from yesterday, still in open possession of the gold offering plate. Without thinking, Petsune races after the retreating figure. He follows them away from the market stalls of baked goods and toward the low docks. The closer he gets to the drop off at the edge of the mass, the more he can feel every wave roll beneath the floating tangle of tower vines. The ground is always rising and sinking with the waves, but it is hardly noticeable in the center of the mass. Here on the outskirts, at the edge and on the docks, it is much more prevalent. He wonders briefly what solid ground would feel like, the cold snow of the Cleave, the craggy mountains of the Keep, or the islands in the unmapped west. Petsune does his best to bring his thoughts back around and remain inconspicuous as he tails the thief. When they leap off of a stand and onto a small schooner’s mizzenmast, Petsune audibly gasps.The low docks are where all the smaller vessels dock, and the high docks are where the massive imposing ships make port. Petsune watches the acrobatic little thief leap from rope to mast to rigging, before remembering he is pursuing them. He hastily scrambles after, only to lose sight of them when they leap off a railing and slide down another ship's bright blue mainsail. He races down the dock, all pretense of stealth abandoned now. As he runs down the length of the low docks, he sees two whaling ships sporting their red sails, a medicinal ship with its white sails, and toward the edge of the port, there is a strange ship sporting the green sails of a merchant vessel. Yet there is no sign of the thief. Petsune becomes frustrated and disappointed, but he looks back at the strange merchant ship with characteristic green sails. It is unlike any other ship in the port, likely in any port. It is immediately evident that it is one-of-a-kind. (Previous Chapter) (Book Homepage and Chapter List) (Next Chapter)While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

(Previous Chapter Prelude) (Book Homepage &Chapter List) (Next Chapter Two)10th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the 29th Year of King Bornidin the Young’s Reign, 126th Reckoned YearI must let you go now,like a pebble to the sea.I release you, my love,and watch you drift into the deep“Canticle for a Lost Life”, From Order of Loss Funeral Rites, Written by Saint Wōde in the Unreckoned Years Petsune shouts after the boy as he melts into the crowded marketplace, “Hey! Stop, thief!” The little rascal stole the offering plate that Petsune was collecting donations in but pitched all the money into the street before scampering off. Petsune gives chase, but almost immediately loses sight of the quick thief. He packs a light kit, that’s for certain. He wades through the sea of people, some trying to sell him things and others seeking to peruse the wares. A glint from above catches his eye. When Petsune looks up to the place, he sees the thief leaping from an awning onto an opposing rooftop, the shining offering plate still in hand. Petsune bumbles his way out of the bustling market and into the alley, following the thief as best he can. When he exits the alley on the other side however, he finds no trace of the nimble boy. He looks up and down the streets but eventually gives it up as a lost cause. Suddenly he realizes he left all the money in the street where the thief tossed it.Petsune runs back up the alley past the Finger Weaver, and through the marketplace to his place in front of the Church bridge. As expected, the street is picked clean of every coin, not even a scale left. Petsune growls with frustration, knowing that Father Haltur will hold him responsible for this. He gets into the simple ferry and pushes off from the edge of the mass. He begins pulling himself across the water to the floating Church, marveling at the simple beauty of the building. He is always struck by this church’s craftsmanship. It’s made entirely of wood and built to resemble a droplet of water. The expert carpenters that crafted this building must have used Saintstone tools because not even a seam of wood is visible. Saintstone is an extremely valuable material, more valuable than gold. It is harder than anything else, almost unbreakable, extremely light, and capable of holding the sharpest of edges. Since the North War, it comes from the mountains of Broadfell Keep, though it is exceedingly rare to find, making it even more expensive here in the Kingdom of Dintash. Petsune finds himself amazed at the capabilities of craftsmen with Saintstone tools. There are simple designs adorning the inside walls but nothing on the outside. The only feature visible as Petsune docks the ferry is the curving window that winds around the building, culminating in a stained-glass wave over the entrance. He wonders as he walks closer how such a marvelous piece of glass was wrought.Petsune walks through the entrance doors and into the sanctuary, with its high vaulted ceiling. The Saint’s sun has fully set and now the Second sun is melting into the horizon like a hot disk. Glaring red light pierces through the stained glass to illuminate the altar at the front in iridescent splendor. Standing at the front and staring into the Window to the Deep is Father Haltur, as though waiting for him. Petsune sighs as he begins to walk down the center aisle. To his left and right are the water-filled grooves that all supplicants kneel in during the service. He mounts the steps and joins Father Haltur by the large Window. Gazing down into the Window to the Deep, Petsune feels a small knot form in his stomach. He isn’t afraid of the deep water, exactly, he thinks of it as a healthy respect for the dangers that lurk therein. There is something innately dreadful about the unplumbed depths of Yath.Neither of them speak as they plumb the depths of the unfathomable well. The unobstructed view into the eerie leagues of dark ocean below sends a shiver crawling up Petsune’s spine. The sea is slightly cloudy due to the Church’s proximity to the markets, save for in the early morning when it is crystal clear. For now however, the streets are filled with townsfolk and merchants, all emptying chamber pots and refuse into the sea. Father Haltur speaks but Petsune hears not a word. He is gripped by a morbid curiosity for what lay below him at this very moment, other than the dozens, if not hundreds, of corpses. Every Church of the Deep funeral consists of deadweights being tied to the casket, which is slathered with glowing millie juice, and then the entire thing is sunken to the bottom through the Window. Petsune suppresses another shiver as he pictures all the bodies down there, wrinkled and emaciated, floating just above the bottom on their ghostly tether.Petsune is startled out of his contemplation. “What?”Father Haltur rolls his eyes imperceptibly, then repeats himself, “I said, where is the collection plate?”Petsune has the good grace to appear abashed as he says, “Someone… stole it.”Father Haltur grips his forehead with one hand and shakes his head as he quietly says, “Of course someone did.”He then motions for Petsune to follow him. Pard and Wendell are walking by as Petsune follows Father Haltur, Pard sporting a devilish grin as he draws a line across his neck with one finger. Father leads Petsune off to the side of the sanctuary and enters a narrow alcove of archives and desks. Father Haltur motions for Petsune to sit, and suddenly he has a feeling that this is not going to be a good chat.Father Haltur begins resignedly, looking as though he just buried someone, “Petsune, you are a bright boy: you must know what this is regarding?”Petsune can't look at the Father, not in this shame, and so he looks over at his desk where he spent hours translating and copying texts. His emotions are a jumbled mix of anger at the injustice of this moment, at himself for feeling ashamed of his beliefs and actions, and a profound sadness and embarrassment. His anger wins over for a moment however and he replies indignantly, “No, I have no idea, Father. Why don’t you tell me?”Of course, Father Haltur blusters slightly under this sudden aggression and responds with a slight temper, “You have taken things too far this time, Petsune. The Church cannot stand idly by while you openly preach heresy in the streets. The Coldor Cleave is an evil thing, not to be trifled with. Are you forgetting that they are the betrayers of the Alliance of Nations? They are sworn enemies of the crown, Petsune. There is animosity in the hearts of these people. The hurt of the North War still burns in the breast of many. I cannot in good conscience allow you to continue this… crusade. You have been warned and punished before; you have brought this on yourself. However,” Father looks kindly at Petsune, “I feel you should know this is not personal.” His tone becomes as avuncular as his demeanor at the end.Petsune is still upset however, so he doesn’t let up. He has been reprimanded by too many Fathers too often, and a small flame of resentment burns in him now. He snaps back, “Then why is the Church doing this - why in the depths are you doing this? I thought the Church professed to value questions?”But Father Haltur doesn’t stoop to his anger this time, replying kindly, “You know the Church values: Change and Truth. Questions are a part of that, yes, but not like this Petsune. You cannot openly support the Coldor, you will end up in a Royal cell, or worse.” Now Father Haltur turns away and he sounds deeply saddened when he speaks, “I understand your… past, but that is behind you now, Petsune. You are a good young man; you no longer need to defend those savages. You are different in your thinking, and that is what I love about you, but this goes too far. I do not wish to see you hurt over something so… trivial.”Petsune looks away from the Father, his anger cooling slightly, “It isn’t trivial to me, Father. I know you think I am only defending them out of some twisted sense of duty, but it’s more than that…” Petsune grows quiet with the weight of unspoken words pressing on his throat.He doesn’t believe the Coldor are evil, they simply can’t be — how could his people be everything people say they are? It isn’t a twisted sense of loyalty that drives his propensity toward arguments, it’s a fierce desire for truth. Something about his people's betrayal of the Alliance simply doesn’t make sense. Why would they agree to the peace talks and meet with the leaders, only to make a doomed attempt at breaking the Alliance as soon as it was signed? If he could just prove his people’s innocence, then perhaps he could return home one day. But how is he to say all of this? How can he say that he feels he wasn’t rescued from his people, but that he was stolen? How can he say that he wishes to prove the Coldor were innocent in the betrayal of the Alliance? He looks at Father Haltur and knows he cannot give voice to these thoughts, not while the Coldor are so widely hated. Instead, he simply looks at Father Haltur, who turns to him kindly and says, “I want you to think and to raise questions, I do, but this is too far. I’m afraid I must forbid you from this topic altogether. You must not speak or read or write of this matter anymore. Otherwise, I will be forced to have you excommunicated from the church.”Petsune is beginning to feel small, and now the weight of his situation is pressing in on him. “I see…”Father Haltur looks him in the eyes and says solemnly, “I do not want to do that, Petsune. By the Saints, I don’t. I am trying to give you a fresh start here, another chance.” Father Haltur begins to walk away but seems to decide on something, turning back. “I understand it isn’t just trivial for you. But I don’t want to see you forced out of the Church of the Deep as you were the others. Please, Petsune. Heed my words, understand my heart for you.” Petsune doesn’t respond, instead turning to walk away.Petsune feels a fool as he leaves the study and walks out past the Window on the altar. Father Haltur looks on in disappointment and sadness. Petsune steps down off the altar and passes the rows of grooves in the floor. Petsune briefly considers leaving the Church, The Tapestry would let him in, but as much as he enjoys the art of the storytellers, he knows it isn’t for him.For now, he would have to stay here and try to make the best of a poor situation. Petsune exits the church sanctuary and walks the short path across to the sleeping quarters. He removes three of his only possessions in the world: an ornate Saintstone dagger given to a True Soul of the Sanctum, a tattered belt woven from tower vines that is given to every Empty Hand of the Order, and the small leather pouch that bears each Deepblood’s talisman. Petsune removes each article carefully and places it below his cot, removing the leather pouch from around his neck last. He opens it and tips out his talisman, his most prized possession: a ring worn om two fingers. It is the only item he has of his past: Coldor wedding bands. He is certain they belonged to his parents. The only way he even knows they are Coldor bands is because of their usage of the number four in the design rather than three. Only the Coldor Cleave would deliberately use four as a holy number, honoring all four Saints, rather than only recognizing three. He rubs the intricate design fondly, then places it back into the pouch and stashes it beneath his cot. He lies down on his thin cot, the tailor’s moon shining through a thin window and making a line across the cool floor. He takes some time to fall asleep, and when he does it’s a fitful night, filled with anxiety and cold sweat.(Previous Chapter Prelude) (Book Homepage &Chapter List) (Next Chapter Two)While no part of this book or the audio will be paywalled, if you are enjoying it and want to support but can’t afford the book, my Substack paid subscription is 60% off the yearly ($12 a year, forever) and 50% off the monthly ($2.25 a month, foreeeever) Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe

Visual by Sandolore SykesThis piece is part of The Lot, the first volume of SUM FLUX, a collaborative Substack. Featured in Edition II, this work is one of eight contributions to this edition. Read more about this zine and its theme here: https://sumflux.substack.com/p/volume-1-the-lot.The saccade of his eyes grasshoppered from parked car to parked car in search of a vacancy, and the wipers mirrored the action. Back and forth and back and forth. He rounded the block yet again, his trawl yielding no catch. He drove down the street, but it too was lined with a wall of vehicles, until a small gap opened ahead. The man slowed down and found it was not a space, but an entrance. He read the sign: 'Parking Garage' with the word 'Free' below it. The wipers slid across the glass, and the rain murmured like a crowd. He did not recall seeing this parking garage in his earlier rounds, which struck him as strange. The man clicked his turn signal on and pulled hesitantly into the dark mouth of the garage. The low ceiling felt oppressive, and the fluorescent lighting rendered the cement unreal.The parking garage was empty.The spider webs strung along the ceiling all fluttered vacantly. The man pulled his car further in, the headlights giving life to a reflective sign mounted on a support pillar. The sign read, ‘Fill Lowest Spaces First’ with an arrow pointing down the ramp to the lower levels. The man stared at the sign, and then slowly moved the car over to the ramp.He drove down.As above, there were no parked cars, only lines for the stowing of inert forms. Down once more, deeper into a catacomb of unease. He drove around and descended another downward incline. The air had grown colder, more acrid and briny. The brakes squeaked to a halt above the next downramp, and the sound was muffled by cotton air. The man suppressed a shiver and felt the skin on his arms prickle. Halogen beams fought their way through the dark, expiring into dimness sooner than they ought to — choked out by the thick air. The man could not see what was at the bottom of the ramp. The garage was too deep already, yet there were levels lower and darker than this one. It was undefined absence down there, lack of form— nebulous.Instead of descending further, he reversed the car into a nearby space. The car idled in its unmarked grave and the man listened to the susurrations of the engine. The headlights shone dimly across the aisle, illuminating two white parking lines and a wall. His hand shook slightly, hovering above the car’s auto-start button. He felt he was not alone, that he was being watched.He pressed it.The engine chugged, then heaved to a stop. The tinnitus silence swished with the man’s elevated pulse. The whole of what existed lay confined within the theatre spotlight of headlights, and in center stage was the cement wall and the painted lines. The man did not move, save to blink and breathe, and at times, he neglected even that. He had the sense that something was not right — that he was not alone in this empty place. He sat and felt the drums in his chest staring at the cement wall and the white lines.The darkness seemed to encroach on the spotlight. The cold began to reach and grasp and press in on the glass, frost forming and growing at the edges. The man sat and stared for a liminal eternity, watching his breath twist in the air in front of his face. He inhaled and held the pressure in. A wisp writhed from over his shoulder, a breath that felt like it was not his own. Fear deepened to terror, and as the man turned to look behind, the car clicked off completely. The headlights ceased with a sigh, and darkness rushed in. Get full access to Loser’s Fiction at losersfiction.substack.com/subscribe