Chapter 5 “Others"
Present Day
Moisture was heavy in the air; the skies, greyed by the cover of low-hanging clouds. A light drizzle fell upon Roelon's face. Fitting, for this area was not one of leisure. Smells of sea water, rotting wood, and the local fisherman's daily catch were amplified by the heat pouring in from the nearby barren lands.
Roelon stood upon a short wooden pier, he leaned upon a railing, calmly peering into the waters that were stirred by brief gusts of wind. Encompassing the pier, wooden buildings were built into the recesses of the stone walls. All around him, as if the rain had no effect, people bustled about their business. Fishermen dangled lines in the sea, porters carried wooden crates to and fro, and a group of travelers conversed nearby.
Roelon awaited the ferry. Adorned in simple commoner's clothing, he stood idly by as the town carried on around him.
A slender figure made his way toward him. Though his back was turned, he felt her as she moved toward him. A simple figure flashed in his mind as she forcefully brushed by him, not even bothering to excuse herself.
...A symbol ““ one that was not yet familiar to him.
...A flag - an ornate symbol of an kinship
The woman was only visible as a silhouette as she calmly walked toward the end of the ferry's pier. Roelon leveled a stare that went unnoticed by the other. He examined her as she waited. Her strawberry-blonde hair was neatly managed, and tied into a bun. Markings adorned all exposed areas of her flesh.
Slowly, the ferry docked. His mind drifting, Roelon thought for a long moment as to the time it would have taken to make such a vessel. Made entirely of wood, it towered over him as it docked, casting a shadow on him in the already-dim evening. The swollen wood creaked as it neared the narrow pier. A woman, obviously an employee, who was standing at the end of the pier, called for everyone to board.
Roelon made his way to the end of the pier toward the ferry when he was met by the onslaught of the disembarking passengers. Finding himself in a wall of people, he slowly made his way down the pier. He was overcome by what he saw. So many bodies rushed past him... so many memories filled his mind - ... so many images flashed in his head.
A young boy passed by, an image of wooden horse filled Roelon's mind. A fat woman... an image of a stone-laden forge. So overwhelmed was he, that he lost sight of the slender figure that had preceded him onto the ferry. As the pier emptied, composing himself, Roelon again advanced toward the ferry. One last passenger approached him. He was the slimy sort; carried about him the air of self-importance. As he left the ramp from the ferry, Roelon scowled at the image in his mind.
...a woman. Screaming.
...â€ÂNo!! ...please stop!â€Â
Roelon stopped in his tracks. Without a word, he gave way to the man on the narrow pier. Just as the man passed by him, Roelon turned toward the stranger. The stranger's back was to Roelon. He quickly grabbed the stranger by the back of his shirt. With the man's collar in his hand, Roelon pulled forcefully toward the ground, causing the man to fall, slamming him to the ground with such a force as to shake the floating pier.
Flat on his back, quite dazed, the stranger looked to Roelon with a puzzled look on his face. A swift kick to his ribs sent the stranger rolling off of the pier into the sea.
Roelon took a long moment and paused to look upward toward the dismal rain, calming himself. His glance turned toward the employee. She was frozen, unsure of how to react to what she had just seen.
In a calm tone, low and coarse, Roelon spoke only one word.
“Rapist.â€Â
She remained frozen as Roelon calmly passed by her, climbing the ramp to the ferry.
Silently, Roelon proceeded into the hold of the ferry.
The room was large. Wooden crates sporadically lined the hull of the vessel, secured by heavy netting. Sturdy pillars stood erect from top to bottom through the middle of the room. The wooden ship seemed to have been swollen from the heavy air, for with every step taken, a loud creek would follow. Oil lanterns suspended from iron facets adorned each stud.
Once inside, he again saw the group of travelers. Some carried on with idle chatter, others boasted their grand tales. One in particular boasted his grand size, and the fact that he was positively a large fellow, though he stood only one meter tall.
No sight of the tattooed figure. The ship was now under way. As the doors to the hold latched shut, the doors to the observation deck opened. Everyone poured out of the hold and made their way up the stairs.
As Roelon climbed the stairs from the hold, he noticed a familiar face. A ferry worker stood proudly behind a wooden countertop and smiled slightly. She then placed both palms on the counter at which she stood. She tapped her fingers, on one of which, adorned an unremarkable copper ring. Smiling, Roelon silently nodded as he carried on.
Roelon was the last to make it up to the observation deck, or so he thought. From behind, a tap on the shoulder caused him to turn on his heel. Surprised, his eyes met those of the mysterious figure he'd encountered on the pier.
She asked his name, not offering hers.
Roelon replied, “I go by Roelon.†as he nodded.
Her response took him aback, “You go by 'thief.'â€Â
Roelon raised a brow. He stammered for a reply. “I'm... not more than a commoner."
She leaned in to whisper. In a barely audible tone, she said, “Well, I only have use for a thief.
Suggestively grabbing her by the elbow, he spoke with no loss of calm, tilting his head, “Maybe you'd like to go below deck for a drink?â€Â
She nodded, not breaking the stare she had on him.
They proceeded below deck, passing by the furtive glances coming from the group of nearby travelers.
Below deck, Roelon again passed by the wooden counter. The same worker approached, and without a word, started tapping her fingers on the counter.
Roelon motioned to the worker, holding up two fingers.
Nodding, the worker poured a brown liquor into two small pewter cups.
Throwing a few copper onto the countertop, Roelon grabbed the goblets, one in each hand. Passing one to the slender stranger, he raised the other to his lips. The woman took the drink in both hands and raised it to her mouth, but never broke her stare.
Roelon finally spoke. In a slight whisper, he said, “We are in the company of friends here, but there are prying ears nearby. Make quick with your proposal.â€Â
The woman paused for a moment. She calmly set the drink down on the nearby countertop. She placed her hands on Roelon's shoulders, then followed his arms down, resting her grasp on his hands. Leaning in, standing on her toes, she planted a kiss on Roelon's lips.
Roelon was quick to step away, but found himself in her grip. She pulled him in and whispered, “Cargo room. Third crate on the left.â€Â
Stunned, Roelon froze as the mysterious figure slowly walked away.
Roelon looked around the room, trying to make sense of it all, when his eyes met those of the worker behind the bar. The worker chuckled a bit as she drank from the very glass that the mysterious woman had abandoned.
Pouring the strong drink down his gullet, Roelon slammed the cup onto the countertop, furrowing a brow at the worker.
He made his way into the cargo hold of the ferry...
Present Day
Moisture was heavy in the air; the skies, greyed by the cover of low-hanging clouds. A light drizzle fell upon Roelon's face. Fitting, for this area was not one of leisure. Smells of sea water, rotting wood, and the local fisherman's daily catch were amplified by the heat pouring in from the nearby barren lands.
Roelon stood upon a short wooden pier, he leaned upon a railing, calmly peering into the waters that were stirred by brief gusts of wind. Encompassing the pier, wooden buildings were built into the recesses of the stone walls. All around him, as if the rain had no effect, people bustled about their business. Fishermen dangled lines in the sea, porters carried wooden crates to and fro, and a group of travelers conversed nearby.
Roelon awaited the ferry. Adorned in simple commoner's clothing, he stood idly by as the town carried on around him.
A slender figure made his way toward him. Though his back was turned, he felt her as she moved toward him. A simple figure flashed in his mind as she forcefully brushed by him, not even bothering to excuse herself.
...A symbol ““ one that was not yet familiar to him.
...A flag - an ornate symbol of an kinship
The woman was only visible as a silhouette as she calmly walked toward the end of the ferry's pier. Roelon leveled a stare that went unnoticed by the other. He examined her as she waited. Her strawberry-blonde hair was neatly managed, and tied into a bun. Markings adorned all exposed areas of her flesh.
Slowly, the ferry docked. His mind drifting, Roelon thought for a long moment as to the time it would have taken to make such a vessel. Made entirely of wood, it towered over him as it docked, casting a shadow on him in the already-dim evening. The swollen wood creaked as it neared the narrow pier. A woman, obviously an employee, who was standing at the end of the pier, called for everyone to board.
Roelon made his way to the end of the pier toward the ferry when he was met by the onslaught of the disembarking passengers. Finding himself in a wall of people, he slowly made his way down the pier. He was overcome by what he saw. So many bodies rushed past him... so many memories filled his mind - ... so many images flashed in his head.
A young boy passed by, an image of wooden horse filled Roelon's mind. A fat woman... an image of a stone-laden forge. So overwhelmed was he, that he lost sight of the slender figure that had preceded him onto the ferry. As the pier emptied, composing himself, Roelon again advanced toward the ferry. One last passenger approached him. He was the slimy sort; carried about him the air of self-importance. As he left the ramp from the ferry, Roelon scowled at the image in his mind.
...a woman. Screaming.
...â€ÂNo!! ...please stop!â€Â
Roelon stopped in his tracks. Without a word, he gave way to the man on the narrow pier. Just as the man passed by him, Roelon turned toward the stranger. The stranger's back was to Roelon. He quickly grabbed the stranger by the back of his shirt. With the man's collar in his hand, Roelon pulled forcefully toward the ground, causing the man to fall, slamming him to the ground with such a force as to shake the floating pier.
Flat on his back, quite dazed, the stranger looked to Roelon with a puzzled look on his face. A swift kick to his ribs sent the stranger rolling off of the pier into the sea.
Roelon took a long moment and paused to look upward toward the dismal rain, calming himself. His glance turned toward the employee. She was frozen, unsure of how to react to what she had just seen.
In a calm tone, low and coarse, Roelon spoke only one word.
“Rapist.â€Â
She remained frozen as Roelon calmly passed by her, climbing the ramp to the ferry.
Silently, Roelon proceeded into the hold of the ferry.
The room was large. Wooden crates sporadically lined the hull of the vessel, secured by heavy netting. Sturdy pillars stood erect from top to bottom through the middle of the room. The wooden ship seemed to have been swollen from the heavy air, for with every step taken, a loud creek would follow. Oil lanterns suspended from iron facets adorned each stud.
Once inside, he again saw the group of travelers. Some carried on with idle chatter, others boasted their grand tales. One in particular boasted his grand size, and the fact that he was positively a large fellow, though he stood only one meter tall.
No sight of the tattooed figure. The ship was now under way. As the doors to the hold latched shut, the doors to the observation deck opened. Everyone poured out of the hold and made their way up the stairs.
As Roelon climbed the stairs from the hold, he noticed a familiar face. A ferry worker stood proudly behind a wooden countertop and smiled slightly. She then placed both palms on the counter at which she stood. She tapped her fingers, on one of which, adorned an unremarkable copper ring. Smiling, Roelon silently nodded as he carried on.
Roelon was the last to make it up to the observation deck, or so he thought. From behind, a tap on the shoulder caused him to turn on his heel. Surprised, his eyes met those of the mysterious figure he'd encountered on the pier.
She asked his name, not offering hers.
Roelon replied, “I go by Roelon.†as he nodded.
Her response took him aback, “You go by 'thief.'â€Â
Roelon raised a brow. He stammered for a reply. “I'm... not more than a commoner."
She leaned in to whisper. In a barely audible tone, she said, “Well, I only have use for a thief.
Suggestively grabbing her by the elbow, he spoke with no loss of calm, tilting his head, “Maybe you'd like to go below deck for a drink?â€Â
She nodded, not breaking the stare she had on him.
They proceeded below deck, passing by the furtive glances coming from the group of nearby travelers.
Below deck, Roelon again passed by the wooden counter. The same worker approached, and without a word, started tapping her fingers on the counter.
Roelon motioned to the worker, holding up two fingers.
Nodding, the worker poured a brown liquor into two small pewter cups.
Throwing a few copper onto the countertop, Roelon grabbed the goblets, one in each hand. Passing one to the slender stranger, he raised the other to his lips. The woman took the drink in both hands and raised it to her mouth, but never broke her stare.
Roelon finally spoke. In a slight whisper, he said, “We are in the company of friends here, but there are prying ears nearby. Make quick with your proposal.â€Â
The woman paused for a moment. She calmly set the drink down on the nearby countertop. She placed her hands on Roelon's shoulders, then followed his arms down, resting her grasp on his hands. Leaning in, standing on her toes, she planted a kiss on Roelon's lips.
Roelon was quick to step away, but found himself in her grip. She pulled him in and whispered, “Cargo room. Third crate on the left.â€Â
Stunned, Roelon froze as the mysterious figure slowly walked away.
Roelon looked around the room, trying to make sense of it all, when his eyes met those of the worker behind the bar. The worker chuckled a bit as she drank from the very glass that the mysterious woman had abandoned.
Pouring the strong drink down his gullet, Roelon slammed the cup onto the countertop, furrowing a brow at the worker.
He made his way into the cargo hold of the ferry...
