The System Seas

They pulled into port slowly, The Foolish Endeavor gliding in under Marco’s hand. Dockhands paused at their work to stare. The ship drew odd looks, and Marco knew why. She was no ordinary vessel. The hull wasn't made of normal wood, and chunks of paper were fixed into the deck as though grown there. Every movement of the ship was precise, responsive, and too clean compared to the lumbering sway of other craft. Dockworkers muttered to one another as the vessel came to rest, wary and fascinated at once, watching a ship that was clearly touched by magic touch down in their lives.

"Where first, Riv?" Marco asked. "This is your world. We'll follow."

"To my parents, but we'll pass a lot of stuff on the way. Let's get moving."

They moved together through the docks area, boots ringing against planks that had seen long use. This was different from most of the places they had been recently. Here, the structures stood on more permanent foundations, put together in a way that spoke of decades, if not centuries, of problems, rebuilding from problems, and general growth. Defensive walls ran along the landward side. They were not the sort that could hold against a true siege against real power, but were better than nothing and would buy precious minutes even against fleets like the one Marco had fought just a few days earlier.

Watchtowers jutted above the rooftops, and more than one mounted cannon pointed out toward the sea, ready to warn away trouble or batter invading ships, if needed. The docks themselves stretched deeper into the water, anchored with heavy pylons sunk firmly into the seabed. Even the houses that lined the waterfront showed a sturdier sort of build, with thicker walls, doors, and additions built on over generations rather than slapped together in a hurry until something better could be erected. The whole settlement bore an air of permanence that outer sea settlements just didn't have.

Riv let out a low laugh as they walked. "Funny. I never noticed how sturdy everything was before. When I was growing up, this was just normal."

Elisa glanced around at the walls and towers, then back to Riv. "I don’t think any of us would have noticed, back then. We didn’t have anything to compare it to. Out there, most places are still trying to prove they can survive. Here, it looks like they already have.

Riv led them off the docks and onto cobbled roads that wound into the heart of the settlement. The stone underfoot and the smell of flour on the wind spoke of more than fishing and trade; there were established mills here, sturdy storehouses with iron-banded doors, and all the other pieces of the heavier-duty side of a trade island. Riv pointed as they passed. “I worked over there,” he said, nodding toward a mill, then pointed again. “And over there. And that one too. Most of these buildings, actually.”

Marco raised a brow. He had worked everywhere on Gulf Island, but he had been working towards a particular kind of overachieving that didn't seem much like Riv's style.

“Why so many places?”

Riv shrugged. “A level one Sturdy isn’t exactly a hot commodity anywhere. I took whatever work I could, day to day. Didn’t matter what it was.”

He led them further along, past the last of the mills and into streets that carried a different feel. The industrial edge softened into a mix of residential and commercial spaces. Shops lined the main road. Produce stalls bright with vegetables and fruit, bakeries letting out warm, yeasty smells, and butcher shops with smoked cuts hanging in windows. Above many of them, tidy apartments pressed upward, homes for the owners who lived above their trade. Deeper still, the bustle thinned into quieter lanes where houses stood in rows, chimneys smoking and laundry strung to dry in the yards.

"There are so many kids." Marco took a step back to allow a group of young children playing a game cross in front of him. "We were in and out of Jare's city so fast I hardly noticed any. They are everywhere here."

"Well, that's how people are." Riv motioned towards the houses. "When they are safe, they put down roots. At least that's how my parents were. They had work and money; they lived in a place where that wasn't likely to go away, so they bought an old wreck of a house and fixed it up, then started having kids."

"Sounds nice."

"It was. A good enough way to grow up, anyway."

A startled yelp sounded out in the space, a young woman's voice that sounded almost as if she had tripped. Marco turned to find that was indeed the case, and that the woman had sprawled out over the ground, groceries that had once been in her basket strewn out over the ground.

"Jane!" Riv yelled, dropping to the ground to help her up. "Guys, this is Jane. A friend. Elisa, she's skinned her knees. Could you help her?"

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"Of course. If that's all right with you, of course."

With Riv's help, Jane managed to pull herself off the ground, blood seeping out of both her knees. She really had taken a hard spill and seemed like she hadn't even noticed the wounds. She stared at Riv as if he was a man returned from the dead, which to her he must have seemed to be.

"Of course. Thank you," she said. "It's my fault. I told my friend I'd help with a project. I didn't leave myself much to keep my natural defenses up."

"Jane's a feeder," Riv said. "She got her class when I did. It's a rare. Very valuable."

"Ah." Elisa's hands flared green, and Jane's very shallow wound all but snapped shut. "That explains it."

"Don't worry, Marco. I don't know what it is either. Jane, what does your class do?" Aethe asked.

"Oh, well, I suppose you'd think of me as a living buff. By being around me, you can share in my stats. I can also share yours or even temporarily share my stats with someone else. It just leaves me weakened for a while afterwards."

"I bet it was Porri. Doing some experiment." Riv finished reloading all of Jane's groceries into her bag and stood. "She always did try to do more than she could."

"You got it in one. But, Riv. You've been gone for… gods, it feels like forever, Riv. Where did you even go?"

"It's…" Riv grimaced. "It's a long story, Jane. Really long. And I haven't seen my parents yet. Have they been well?"

"Oh, certainly. You know them. There's never been two people who did better, I think. You are heading to see them now?"

"Trying to," Riv said. "But I'll be in town a day or so, at least. Can I catch up with you later?"

"Of course." Jane smiled and put her hand on Riv's shoulder. "It's really good seeing you, Riv."

Riv watched as Jane finally turned and left down the street. Marco, Aethe, and Elisa exchanged looks behind him, the kind of knowing glances that didn’t need words. When Riv turned back around, they were all wearing the same thin, teasing smiles. He blinked at them, confused. “What?”

"You know what," Elisa said. "What in the world was that? You could cut the tension with a knife."

"She's a friend," Riv said, turning a slightly deeper shade of pink. "A good friend."

"I'm Marco's friend," Aethe said. "A very good friend. It doesn't keep us from, you know. Being more."

Riv was ever the joker and had given Marco more grief over the course of his relationship than Marco could even keep track of. It was sort of pleasing, then, to see how very poorly he was able to cope with being on the other side of the getting-made-fun-of table for once. Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on novel(ꜰ)ire.net

"Yes. I know. But we were really never anything but that," Riv said. "Marco remembers. Back on the island, I told him about her. She was the girl that those guys wanted to keep me from, remember? I told you then that it wasn't like that. They misunderstood."

“See, I used to think that,” Marco said. "You believed him too, right? Elisa?"

"I did. But then you see it, and it changes everything," Elisa said.

"Yeah. I'm thinking Dello, Gamble, and Rice might have had a point."

"Oh, for the sake of the gods. I'm telling you. It's nothing." Riv started down the street in a sort of stiff, brisk march. "It's never been anything, and I don't think it ever will. Now let's go and see my parents already, okay? I don't want to get yelled at for stalling."

Once Riv had a pretty good lead on them, Elisa leaned over. "He really doesn't know, does he?"

"I don't think he does. We were all pretty young when we left, after all. You get it too, Aethe?"

Aethe smiled ear to ear. "Yes. He can't make jokes about her. He doesn't even bring her up."

"Yup." Elisa started to follow after Riv. "He's in love with her. I wonder if he even knows."

—

Riv did not bring up Jane again for the rest of the walk, and the others decided to be polite enough to let him preserve whatever shred of dignity he still clung to. Marco privately doubted he would have received the same courtesy from Riv if the roles had been reversed, but he kept the thought to himself. Riv was good in other ways that Marco wasn't, after all. That was a kind of balance in and of itself.

They trailed behind as Riv took the lead once more, guiding them deeper through the settlement.

The cobbled lanes shifted as the commercial bustle thinned away, giving over to rows of homes and small courtyards. Riv slowed, pointing ahead as if he could already see what waited.

"My parents are both building classes. I'd say specialized forms of sturdy, but it's a little more than that. They focused on construction and repair. They never needed a workshop of their own."

"Not at all?"

“No. They'd just have the materials delivered to where they were working. Occasionally Dad or Mom might make something really specific at home, but it was always just a single piece, something they could just cut in the yard. They can build just about anything,” Riv said, a touch of pride in his voice. “And if it broke, they could fix it twice as strong.”

"They sound like something," Elisa said. "My dad just does deluxe cursive."

"I suppose that has its place, though. Right?" Riv said. "Someone has to make the wedding invitations."

They finally reached a modest home tucked along a quieter lane, shaded by a pair of leaning trees. Riv stopped at the gate and gestured almost sheepishly. "Well, here it is. This is where I grew up."

At first glance the house was nothing remarkable. Modestly sized, even small by the standards of a family of three or four, it was far from a palace. The roofline was simple, the yard was compact, and there was a narrow path leading up from the cobbled street to a simple, sturdy-looking door. There were no carved lintels, no stained glass, no banners or charms. It was just a home.

But the longer Marco looked, the more something bothered him. He couldn’t put his finger on it at first, so he simply stared, trying to take in something intangible below the surface of it all. Slowly, things started to come into focus. The house was simple, yes, but it was hard to find anything in it you might call a flaw. The walls joined the foundation in perfect, seamless lines, without the signs of sag or settling buildings of age usually carried. The wood beams sat square in a way that went beyond normal precision, with every angle precise and every nailed connection flush. The house did not lean, did not creak, did not show weakness. It was as though the place had been set into the earth by some sort of domestic god, forcing a perfect structure into existence through will alone.