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The Circle
Part 1
The Explorer was moored near Longpoint, a lighthouse that jutted out into the middle of the harbor. A sea of merchants and commoners surrounded the dockyard to witness the start of this historic voyage. The people stood quietly and still, as was expected in the Hansic Alliance. They did so despite the constant sting of light sleet and mist that swirled around the pier. This was winter’s last desperate attempt to hold out against spring, and the common folk, unlike the dignitaries below them, shifted their weight from one foot to the other to try to keep warm.
An enormous galleon bobbed in the water before them. Rugen’s normally crowded harbor front had been cleared of traffic for this occasion — all the other ships had been moved or rerouted to Lubec, which lay on the opposite shore of the River Odra’s mouth.
The galleon’s skipper was a retired navy captain who had a handpicked crew with which to explore the unknown waters of the Great Sea. If any land existed beyond the realm of Halcyon, it had been forgotten. If any civilization existed in the midst of the Great Sea, it, too, had passed from memory. They carried enough supplies for a three-month voyage, after which they were to return and report on their findings. The motives were purely economic: the discoverers of any new resources stood to profit tremendously from the monopoly they would gain, as would their patrons.
Behind the crowd, a pair of robed figures stood motionless. Their bodies were completely covered, one in crimson, the other in navy blue. Long cowls hid their faces. Subtle bulges at the chest were all that identified them as women. Except for a map case dangling from the shoulder of the one in blue, the color of their attire was all that distinguished one from the other. They engaged in a silent conversation, nodded and parted ways. The one in crimson was now left alone to watch the proceedings on the pier.
The crashing surf was the only sound to be heard as the captain and her crew stood at attention while the governor inspected them. Forty ceremonial guards from the district garrison waited patiently at the opposite end of the pier. Rivulets of sleet marred the oiled surface of their black, padded leather armor. Their faces stung from the constant pelting of tiny ice pellets, but they pretended not to notice.
The robed figure watched as Governor William Lessander continued with the inspection, studying each sailor’s face in turn. The crew arrayed before him consisted of hardened professionals, more than three hundred souls who wore poor masks over their brimming pride. These men and women were being afforded the highest honor possible in the Hanse — short of meeting the chancellor.
The crew members stared straight ahead in a military fashion they had learned during their service in the Hansic armed forces. Such tours of duty, whether in the militia or the navy, were required of every citizen in the realm upon reaching the age of eighteen, and they remained in the service for three years.
Despite the distance, the figure in crimson had no trouble making out Lessander’s features, marking him for their encounter later on. A light breeze tousled his jet-black hair while his plain, expressionless features showed no hint of emotion. His eyes were the only crack in his stoic demeanor — eyes that betrayed his intense pride. The governor was dressed in formal garb. His black overcoat and pants were tight and uncomfortable, and they featured a navy-blue sash that ran from shoulder to opposite hip. The district crest was sewn over his heart and he wore a short dagger at his side — this was more of a throwback to archaic times than a modern fashion statement, though more than one political leader had been called to defend himself against a highland rebel who managed to break through the array of bodyguards.
Just as the crimson-robed observer began to grow impatient, the inspection ended. Lessander came about to face the captain. The old sailor was decked out in full naval regalia, a reminder of her esteemed service to her country.
The unseen observer concentrated slightly to augment her hearing. Her instructions were to record every moment of this event for the Inner Membership.
Governor William Lessander spoke formally. “Captain Grayden, I commend you. Yours is the finest crew I’ve seen in a long time.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Do you have any final words to speak on their behalf?”
“No, sir.”
A pause. “Very well.”
Lessander spun around, marched halfway to the honor guard, and turned to face the crew of the Explorer. He looked at the cleric of Samlah who stood nearby. The priest was of medium height, rotund, and his head was shaved according to the demands of his order. A platinum pendant depicting a closed fist hung from his neck. He stepped forward with two acolytes who carryied a brazier. They placed it on the dock and the cleric reached into a pouch at his side. He produced a pinch of dust and sprinkled it over the element while the acolytes did their best to shield it from the breeze and the sleet. They lit the brazier and it gave off a strong aroma.
The priest had to raise his voice over the blowing drizzle so everyone could hear him. “We bow our heads in meditation,” he called. Everyone present, including the sailors and soldiers at attention, did so and concentrated intensely. “We pray to the Spirits, that in their Games our comrades may find fortune and favor. You follow in the tradition of our ancestors, distant cousins who explored the waters of their own world seeking treasure and glory. Though the full story of their deeds is forever lost to us, Ahenak’s Codices tell us that a quest into the unknown is a search for greater understanding. Hear the words that Elren, Bestower of Wisdom, inspired him to write: ‘The individual attains Truth by exploring the natural world and applying reason, for only through reason can we unmask the universe.’ Godspeed. May Yarmah of the Seas grant you safe passage, may Qedem guide you truly, and may the Spirits in their Forum view you with favor. Amen.”
Everyone repeated “Amen” and the acolytes removed the brazier to conclude the proceedings.
Using this as a cue, a military band at the back of the crowd struck up its instruments. The all-brass ensemble played the Hymn to the Hansic League. It was a tribute to the short-lived antecedent to the Hansic Alliance that existed three and-a-half centuries earlier, and it was now the Hanse’s national anthem. The hymn had a slow meter, but the tone was respectful. The people stood quietly at attention, as did the sailors. The militia troops and government officials saluted.
*
Aboard the Explorer, muffled sounds of the ceremony penetrated the captain’s quarters, where the woman in the navy blue robe sat hunched over a desk. Rifling through the captain’s trunk, she removed several large maps. Unslinging her map case, she exchanged the captain’s maps with some of her own. Carefully, she placed the maps back in the trunk in exactly the order she found them. After one final cursory glance to make sure nothing was amiss, she stood straight and concentrated. In a moment, she was gone.
Stay tuned for the next chapter…
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