The reflection of the sun’s light cast countless rays amid the silvered halls of the floating palace as Jorrus Faultspire, 2nd Praetor to his Majesty Emperor Gaius Starwind walked across the smooth stone floors of the floating palace towards the Consol room. Jorrus was pushing forty, with tinges of grey flecking both sides of his hair and his beard, which was immaculately groomed as any high ranking officer under his Majesty’s Service would keep it. His metal backed boots clacked loudly against the stones as he rapped the wood and iron door that led into the chamber of the Consol. The floating capital city of Galma was exquisite in its own right, but the size and immaculate detail of the Floating Palace stretched beyond the city as well. High aqueduct walls surrounded the palace, water rushing up and down the thick stone walls, creating a neverending cascade of mist and rainbows around the white walls of the palace. The halls were less grandiose, especially in the small chambers where the Consol met. These were halls for important business, not grandstanding and fancy feasts. A place where the real diplomacy happened.

“Come in Praetor,” a gravely old voice from beyond the wood called, slightly muffled by the thick door. Jorrus, always a dog of the Empire, did as he was told.

“My lordships,” he began, as he stepped into the center of the room; face to face with a large arched table with seven figures sitting at it. He knelt down to one knee, his red cape dragging against the dusty floor and he lowered his head, removing his silvered helm and caressing it against his chest.

“Rise, Praetor. We have much to discuss with you.” The man sitting in the middle, the oldest member of the Consol and the emperor’s uncle, Delphus Starwind stared at Jorrus with wizened grey eyes. “We have heard your expedition into the Lost Sea was successful. And yet you have brought no treasure or key with you.” The elderly man crossed his gnarled hands together. “What did you find in the cursed locker?”

“Only riddles, my lordship. But riddles which speak about the lost city, and its treasures beyond.”

“Riddles need answers, Praetor. We pray that you have some.”

“With time, I belie-”

“We do not have the luxury of time, Praetor!” The old man rose in his chair, shaking with the rise of his voice. He slammed his ancient fist against the wooden table, shocking some of the younger members of the Consol. “Right now endless Divers search for Gaea, aiming to be the ones who will plunder its secrets and treasures. The man who finds the lost city will have the power of the gods, as the old texts say.”

“Yes your lordsh-”

“I am not finished, Praetor.” The old man sat back down. “Secrets weapons to destroy any army. The power to harness the sun and moon. The power to staunch even death itself…” Delphus starred Jorrus down, and in that moment the Praetor who had fought in countless battles, seen the most horrifying monsters of the deep, and had led countless men to their deaths suddenly felt very afraid.

“You will answer these riddles, or we shall find a Praetor worth more than war medals. After all, Praetor Alexia has not failed us in her investigations of the North.”

“Y-yes my lordship.” Jorrus tightened his eyes and tried not to feel the heavy burden of shame now cresting above his shoulders. He was beginning to understand his father’s words when he had become a member of the Palace Guard fifteen years ago. The burden of duty may one day become a noose around your neck, my son. Be careful you do not let it become too tight, nor lose your footing. He was now feeling as if he was on a precarious ledge, and this noose of duty was squeezing too tight for him to breathe.

“You don’t have a chance against me, foul beast!” The young man spun a large, awkward blade around in his hands, facing off against a foul, three headed creature. The blade shone with a bright light against the hot sun, reflecting off its carefully crafted metal. The thin blade curved upwards, like a normal saber, but the tip of the blade was different. Instead of a solid tip, it curved back into a sharp tip like a harpoon’s. The blade itself seemed to be an oversized fish-hook, albeit one with quite the sharp edge. The man charged forward, his mop of shaggy brown head blowing back as he spun the blade in a wide slash; carving off one “head” of the beast.

A thick brown coconut head flew into the air, and was then pierced by the tip of the blade. “Ha!” The man bellowed, grasping the fruit and pulling it from the blade. He took a swig of the bitter milk, then smiling, turned to his young onlookers, grinning like a madman. “See? I TOLD you I could do it!”

Mala, a young dark-haired boy laughed. “Wow Mar!” He said. “You were like the old heroes from Chief Talu’s legends!”

“Oh, i’ll be better than a bunch of dusty old heroes!” Marlowe turned back to the now two-headed coconut beast, running towards it. “It’s time for my finishing move!” He bellowed, before tripping on an outstretched vine, sending him careening through the air and into the dirt, at the straw “feet” of his beast. His sword landed with a loud clang near him.

“Annnd Mar is killed by the beast.” Mala muttered, shaking his head. “You always screw up your moves by yelling them out!”

“Thanks Mala,” Marlowe muttered with thick embarrassment in his voice as he pushed himself off of the sandy ground. He brushed off flecks of thin grass, dirt and sand from his blue shirt, and knelt down to pick up the fisherman’s saber, placing it firmly back in its leather sheath.

“Why do you practice all the time anyways? Do you want to be a Diver or somethin’? There’s nothing worth Diving for in the southern seas, that’s what Chief Talu says!”

“I don’t care about what’s in the Southern Seas,” Marlowe muttered, picking up one of the coconut “heads” from his false-monster. “There’s a huge world out there, ready to be explored!”

“But...doesn’t everyone already know what’s in the seven seas?”

“No! That’s the exciting part. We’ve lived on the seas for thousands of years, right? But there’s still so much that’s unknown to people!”

“How can people NOT kno-” a loud boom erupted over the island, and a huge gust of wind nearly blew the children off their feet. This was not the first or second big explosion they had experienced this week. Ever since the huge storms appeared over Gullspire Rock, every day large thunder claps, accompanied by gusts of wind and even minor earthquakes shaking the small island. The children on the island were terrified of the once quiet rock in the far distance now creating such a cacophonous display; any many of the village elders moaned that a new calamity was coming; that Mother Ocean was unhappy with their sacrifices to her name and she would now destroy their peaceful home.

During the first week, Chief Talu was calm. “It’s fine,” he began, talking to many of the frightened people at a Chief-meet. “It is simply a storm, it will blow over as soon as the breezes come.” But many breezes had followed in the days thereafter, and the storm continued to circle around the rock. Windward Island was a moderately sized island in the Southern Seas, and they were known in the local islands as a wonderful place for Krayfish spearing and for their various fruits. Every year they even hosted a Krayfish Spearing contest; something that Talu had told Marlowe of when he was younger. His mother had been a champion in the contest for many years before meeting his father, and the necklace he wore was a symbol of her skill. The island itself was roughly fifteen miles in acreage, and the village was built around the natural curved bay of the island, where their “port” was found. The port was small like many of the village ports, big enough to handle a monthly visit of skiffs and barges from the other island and the occasional merchant vessel, but nothing so grand to bring in visitors from too far.

“Let me take a small skiff out there, Talu!” Marlowe had fussed in the days after. “If it’s too dangerous, I can turn around. But there could be something there causing this storm!” Marlowe had spent much of his youth sailing a small skiff, and he’d traveled around Gullspire Rock countless times. But now it seemed to an alien; the font of a grand adventure wrapped around a dangerous cloak of a storm.

“Don’t be suicidal, boy,” Talu muttered incredulously. “Even our sturdiest fishing boats would be torn apart in a storm like that. After a few more days of no changes, Talu sent a gull with a request to Sun’s Rest, the largest island in the southern sea and the home of the local Diver’s guild.

An odd storm has appeared near Windward Island. It is unnatural and may be caused by some ancient device. Windward Island hereby requests any divers brave enough to travel to Gullspire Rock and to end this unnatural storm. Payment: 500 shelma, plus any artifacts found... It was a pittance of a job. In the Imperial Sea, 500 shelma was the reward for slaying three Razorshark or finding some trifle in a dive. And the southern sea was not a place well known for its treasures. This was the most shallow of all the seven seas; the only sea without an immortal Leviathan stalking its waters for unwary divers. Talu knew they would not get many who would brave the trip.

Still, on the 3rd day of the season of Meera, the small port of Windward Island was full of ships. People of the village were standing shoulder to shoulder to see who would step out onto one of the port’s four docks; which already seemed crowded and crushed together due to the different ships. Marlowe found himself behind those much taller and those even older than he; and realized with a sigh that he would not have a chance to see who was coming to explore the tall rock that he had sailed around in a skiff in his younger years. He still could see the ships from his position: none were ironclads, of course. Some were transport and merchant ships, others were diver ships, ran by rookies or by old fools, or simply those who thought they could find an easy job with a chance at nice salvage. A reward allowing all artifacts to be kept was always a boon. Most cities demanded 40 to even 60% of the salvage, arguing that they were entitled to it through their contracts. Towns would feed, sell gear at cost, and give places of rest to divers. The salvage was their take, of course.

Marlowe was busy rubbing his shins, wiping of the dirt and sand from his fall. He didn’t need Marea seeing he’d hurt himself again. He felt bad, as if he was always worrying her due to his antics. He was, after all, older than her. He should be the one worrying, the one responsible. And yet, Talu always left her in charge, always put his trust in her.

She wasn’t born cursed. Marlowe let the younger children run by him as they made towards the docks to see who had come to the island, hoping to see heroic divers, merchants peddling wares from the far-off dragon sea, and as they ran, Marlowe could see the small marks on their upper shoulders. Blue and orange, marking of the sun and the moon. And in that moment he felt naked in the knowledge that he would never have such a mark. After all, when he was born, there was no sun or moon. Mother Ocean had not blessed him.

He sighed and continued on, running faster to push the dark thoughts from his mind. Now was the time to see who had come to the island, and who would end these storms.

An odd storm has appeared near Windward Island. It is unnatural, and may be caused by some ancient device. Windward Island hereby requests any divers brave enough to travel to Gullspire Rock and to end this unnatural storm. Payment: 500 shelma, plus any artifacts found.

Marina Watercrest looked over the contract she held in her hands, thinking on the prospects of such a venture.

The purple-haired young woman had come to The Southern Sea only a few months prior, looking to start things anew. She hadn’t joined any crews in her time, preferring to remain independent for reasons she never fully explained to the faction leaders in charge of the diver’s guild that operated in the Southern Sea. She insisted she had her reasons and that the ‘right’ crew hadn’t come along yet. It was a bold-faced lie, but Marina had her reasons for not telling the truth.

Five hundred shelma? Are you serious? Whatever artifact I find on the dive better be worth it.

She took a light breath as she put the piece of paper down on the table in front of her. She was already sworn to the contract so she supposed she had little choice. Besides, it wasn’t exactly like any of the other possible contracts in the area were any better. At least with this contract she could come out with a treasure of some sort that she could either pawn or barter with in an exchange. She grabbed the glass of coconut milk in front of her as she leaned back, the fruit’s liquid emptying from the glass before her reddish-brown eyes looked back toward the skies above. The heat was awful and the storm a few leagues away was no doubt effecting the abhorrent and humid weather. The Imperial Sea wasn’t exactly frozen or brisk, but Marina was still undoubtedly getting used to the southern heat.

It was one of the reasons she had taken to the harbor tavern of The Sunken Shepherd – a place where diver’s gathered before they left for assignment. It wasn’t quite like the guild halls she had been used to, but it was a decent enough replacement. Especially considering Windward Island was basically a nowhere island that didn’t really deserve a guild hall proper.

I wonder what kind of divers I will be working with...

The port’s size was as anticipated. Too small to handle any good ships. The Skullfish was a hardy vessel; any Diver Crews who were recognized by the Guild in the Ancient Seas had to be a hardy vessel. But she was meant for exploration and marking important sites for the larger vessel to haul up. Bron knew that no other Guild divers would show up. The shelma wasn’t worth this trip, and the chances of artifacts were…well…minuscule at best.

No, Bron was here because he’d made a promise. He scanned the bright island, squinting his small, grey eyes at the sea of people standing near the docks. He was still on the bow of the Skullfish looking. “Of course he wouldn’t still be here,” the burly man muttered. Bron was a tall, broad-shouldered man, draped in leather gear with his own thick ornate rebreather wrapped around his neck. Resting on top of his brow (he’d been bald for roughly fifteen years now) were a part of brass goggles. An artifact he’d found in his youth that had helped him in countless expeditions.

The Skullfish’s other crewmen, Martin, was busy checking the small aether engine of the ship. The wizened middle-aged man called to his boss, “We can still pull anchor and head back to Sun’s Rest! There’s better treasure to find north of here. Half a days sailing, we could be in the sea of stars, find a small wreck and make-“

“You remember Kelman, don’t you Martin?”

“Of course I do. Damn-fool researcher under Jerrah’s crew, right? You used to sail with him.”

“Aye. He had a family in the southern sea.”

“You don’t mean-“

“Kelman was not a foolish man, Marty.” He walked back to the engine room. “He was also not a man keen on retiring.”

“Jerrah said he was dead. Found his sword and everything.”

“And maybe he is. But did you ever wonder why he spent so many years in the seas that everyone claims has no research merit?”

“He liked the weather?”

Bron sighed. “If the mission isn’t worth it, we’ll scuttle it and be in Goldhold by tomorrow noon, alright?”

“Now you’re talkin’ boss!”

“Marlowe, I can’t see!” Mala was tugging on Marlowe’s arm now. The young adult sighed, kneeling down to lift the smaller boy up onto his shoulders. Mala wiggled with excitement as he could see those getting off the ships. “Wow! Look at that ship! It has so many boxes! And that fellow there! He’s got such weird clothes! A-ha! Look, look, that girl leaped into the water!”

Marlowe of course, was unable to see any of the events transpiring. But, at least Mala was exited. Besides, seeing all of these divers and merchants from far off would do nothing but to fuel that desire to leave the island again and again. He’d had a chance, roughly two years ago when a small crew came from Sun’s Rest recruiting anyone with sailing experience. Marlowe had actually gotten to show his skills with a skiff, and his ability to sail around the island with some skill. Then came the questions…

“So, what aether sign are you? I noticed people in the Southern Seas wear their sign on their shoulder. But…you don’t? Are you not from here originally?”

“No, I-“ Marlowe looked down at the question. He already knew how it would end. “I was born during an eclipse. I don’t have a sign.”

“I’m sorry,” The man muttered, his voice dropping. “It’s just…well, you know the story. Sailors born during an eclipse are-“

“I know.”

Marlowe was so lost in thought, he almost jumped when he was Marea in his peripheral vision. “S-sorry Marea,” He muttered, as Mala kicked him on the shoulder for nearly losing his grip on the boy. “You know me: head in the clouds.”

He tried not to grimace at the thought of her finding out that he’d been out training again. She’d always supported him, but he hated to see it go back to her with Talu. The Chief was never angry at her, nor did he punish her. But he always remembered that slight disappointment Talu seemed to have any time Marea helped him out at all. For Marea, Talu was a father. Even if they weren’t related by blood, he’d been a father to her, ever since they’d found her encased in ice. Talu had always treated Marlowe with some distance, like many of the adults in town had. He had his own hypothesis why they treated him with such distance: they blamed him for his mother’s death.

“It’s exciting though, isn’t it? Even on feast-days or on important holidays we never see such people.” He smirked at the girl he was raised alongside. “It feels like something is brewing in the air. Not just that storm around the rock, I mean. Something big is happening!”

Marina smirked as she was apparently approached by a brown-haired insane person whom sought her out to “partner up” for the upcoming dive.

It was an amusing notion, but Marina didn’t reject it with a scoff or roll of the eyes – in her mind the character that had just stolen one of her table’s many chairs was a wild character that reminded her of fairy tale heroines and their eccentric sidekicks. Marina held her glass in her hand as she looked her over, letting her speak the many sentences she chose to utter. The purple-haired noble wasn’t expecting the stranger to ask for her name, refusing to take no for an answer in her request to partner up.

“Marina.” She responded as her interest widened in the young woman. “Though, what makes you think I want you as a partner? Hm?”

The woman was correct to be interested in the great Marina Sorellia Watercrest of the Isle of Galma, though Marina’s ego was often tempered by her almost flirtatious curiosity. She wasn’t one of those nobles who demanded people to address her by title, rank, and full name. No, that kind of grandiose was a bit absurd and Marina had no interest declaring herself in such a way in a scummy port that would take advantage of such things. Besides, why would you announce such things when the person in front of you obviously knew you were of high birth? As far as Marina was concerned, the wild sidekick woman in front of her already knew where she stood and obviously knew Marina wanted someone to prepare to join with her. The contract on the table was obvious enough that she was a diver. But Marina wanted to play with her food, even if it was for a moment.

“What can you offer?”

She took a final drink from her glass.

“Heh.” She scoffed, her smile widening as the northern woman closed her eyes in satisfaction. Marina could feel her stomach growl in hunger, not for food or anything of the sort, but something else entirely.

She could hear her father’s pride puff up inside her, insulted by the fact that this Terhikki Vepsalainen would dare refer to her by such a common nickname. But at the same time her mother’s playfulness was making Marina ignore it utterly and completely. As she placed her now empty glass on the table, she wondered what exact truths were to Terhikki’s wild claims. “The best of the best.” was a large claim to make and the antics she made suggested something of a bluff. It was hard to tell after just meeting a person. For Marina it was the first interesting meeting of a person she had made since she arrived in the Southern Sea several months ago and she was recklessly excited. What was the special thing Terhikki wanted? How much of her skill was simple boasting? How far was she willing to go?

There was so many questions.

“My, my. How could I refuse such a cute, precious thing?”

“Do you really think they'll be able to fix it, though? I don't think any of these Divers come from the area, so they won't know what all to look out for, especially with their thoughts occupied by treasure.”

Marea’s words struck true to Marlowe, as they usually did. She was terse but to the point and that was something Marlowe needed in his life. She was a grounding force that he didn’t have when it was just him and Chief Talu. Still, it was hard to truly gauge her feelings—beyond what she explicitly stated. Marlowe did not believe that any one person could truly be so calm and neutral always. The irony was lost to him, of course.

“It’s Chief Talu’s request, though. He won’t let anyone from the village sail out to Gullspire in a skiff.” Not that anyone besides Marlowe had requested to sail into the storm. He’d called it suicidal. Marlowe simply thought it would be dangerous. He never expected to die from such an endeavor.

“For good reason as well. ” The stern chilly voice was deep and well-known to everyone in the village. Chief Talu stood behind Marlowe and Marea, his arms crossed. “Marlowe, I thought I told you earlier to get the contracts from the meeting hut and to bring them to the tavern.” Even though Marlowe was fully grown, Talu still stood a head taller than the young man, his skin dark tan and his hair neatly shaven. He was not wearing his ceremonial garb; there would be time for that later; for now, he simply dressed nicer than most of the fishermen. “Marea, thank you for delivering the food.” He smiled at the girl, and turned to walk towards the tavern. “You should strive to learn from her, Marlowe. Marea works hard and is well respected. She’s like your mother.”

Marlowe sighed, kneeling to let Mala down, and started walking towards the meeting hut, his attitude now sullen. Whatever excitement that was building in his chest was now deflated by Talu’s words.

And now I am all wet. How lewd.

Marina looked down to her soaked travelers cloak and let out a slight giggle at the randomness that Terhikki showed. Being impulsive herself, she understood what it was like to act before thinking. It was relatable. She wondered how many people Terhikki unknowingly offended just by being herself. Through Marina's point-of-view, she was fortunate that a great noble diver like Marina was here to be forgiving and accomodating.

“It’s fine. You’re excited. But you really should keep that contained to the bedroom. This is a public place.” She remarked at the woman's apologetic tone, giggling at the whole insane situation.

As Terhikki took her seat again Marina began to realize how correct she was in that Terhikki had no idea what she was doing and often leapt before looking. Her eyes moved up to meet the northerner’s own as she grabbed the paper in front of her. Marina had been one of the first people available to volunteer to aid in Windward Isle’s particular problem. But she was told they didn’t want just her services but one of a independent team of sorts so that she would have to wait until the ships of divers came into the harbor. That all had come to pass and now the very cute, impulsive, and illiterate woman who wanted ‘in’ sat across from her anxiously awaiting their soon-to-be-had adventure.

“It’s a diver’s contract for Gullspire Rock. I’m sure you’ll get your own very soon, especially if you want to work with me. Don’t worry about reading it. I have no problem helping you out as long as you don’t mind a little intimacy.”

Marlowe remained silent as they approached the Meeting Hut. It was a large, circular hut next to the Chief’s house, where the three lived. The hut was simple, with a large pallet in the far corner for Talu to sit, and places for up to twenty to sit around the room. It was usually for monthly meetings of the tribe; for those to discuss the health of crops, the best fishing spots, and to settle disputes from families. Marlowe and Marea, since they still lived with the Chief, were only permitted to bring things to the meetings, but never allowed to actually sit in or bring their own grievances.

“When you get your own home and start providing for the village, that’s when you get to participate,” Talu’s words echoed in Marlowe’s ears as he walked over to the Chief’s pallet to find a large stack of handwritten papers. Carefully and meticulously worded in the Chief’s own hand, Talu had spent sleepless nights writing them out for any divers who would arrive. One woman had already arrived, and Marlowe wanted to meet her, but Talu had approached her himself, going over the contract.

“Well…” Marlowe muttered, turning to Marea with a mischievous grin. Talu said to get the contracts, so that means he must need someone to give them to the Divers as well, right?” His mind was racing with Marea’s words as well. “This is my chance!” He exclaimed to her. “Maybe I can impress some divers with my knowledge about Gullspire rock, and they’ll want to bring me along on this mission. Then I can prove myself by fighting monsters, overcoming dangers and helping them find incredible lost treasure!” He was now too excited and too far into his fantasy.

He haphazardly stuffed the papers under an arm and dashed past the girl. “Come on! Talu’s probably talking to some of the villagers right now, plus he’s got to get dressed in his goofy outfit! Now’s the time to make our mark!”

Marlowe dashed back into the town, dodging pods of people standing around talking about the merchants and divers, and finally ducked his way into The Sunken Shepard. He started handing out the contracts to some of the strangers, knowing they had to be divers. He finally made his way to the table with two women talking closely, handing one to the girl dressed in…barely anything. He did his best to keep his eyes on the level, his mind constantly reminding him to stay on course. He turned to the violet-haired girl sitting across, nearly handing her a contract. “Wait-“ he stopped. “You’ve already got a contract, right?” Even if he was forbidden to try and hop on board with these divers, he’d still snuck around the tavern and scoped out anyone new for the past few days.

“Signed, sealed, and delivered.” She replied, motioning to the contract that was in her hands.

Marina looked at the man – he looked familiar, like someone that she had seen when she spoke with Winward Isle’s leader about employment on the island. She hadn’t interacted with him, but Marina never forgot a face. Especially a face she had yet to taunt.

Normally she would wave off a person if they were asking obvious and redundant questions with a sarcastic quip, but in this case Marina did think he had a particular use after Terhikki had admitted that she couldn’t comprehend written language. It was a concept that Marina was still amused by and knew that the man in front of her was able to pass out contracts he was able to explain them for the inept. Marina smiled warmly as she raised a hand, in her noble way, to imply she had more to say and for him to not interject.

“However, there is something I need from you. My partner here is unfortunately illiterate, so could you do me a favor and explain it to her so I don't have to? I’d really appreciate it.”