Revolutions

4 - Walumaq

I twist and twirl my finger just above the surface of the tide pool and watch the water rise up slightly, flowing to and fro and following along with my movements. Being on the coast a bit aways from the castle in Haqiliqa is soothing, breathing in the crisp smell of the salty air as the towering Eternal Flame of Iaqa burns brightly far down the shoreline, watching over the island. There's only so much I can handle of the constantly busy docks and the bustling crowds, not to mention the day-to-day operations of the castle. Here, I find much needed peace in the solitude, among nautical life like the minnows, tadpoles, and other creatures floating around carefree in the shallow waters. I imagine swimming among them, exploring the vastness of the sea and traveling to wherever we please. Tiny crabs with their dark red and greenish colored shells pop out to investigate the large human crouched down near their homes. But once they deem I'm not a threat, they carry about their activities, scurrying around the rocks and dried coral.

The evening sun ducks behind the horizon of the sea to the west where the continent resides beyond, indicating to me that it's time to return home before my parents start to question where I am. I let out a small sigh, pick myself up off the rocky beach, and begin walking along the shore, carrying my sandals by my side.

At the edge of town, the light brown dirt road is lined with the small stone homes of fishermen and dockside workers. The saltwater air is still crisp as it breezes past my cheeks, and the briny finish revitalizes me each time I breathe it in. The noise of the merchants and fishmongers grows louder the further into town I go, trying to hustle one last sale before day's end. I mostly ignore the shouts and enjoy my relative anonymity—my cape's hood drapes around my face and obscures my distinguishing features that make it easy for most people to place me as the daughter of the Sanqo ruler, Siunqi, renowned captain that transported the heroes to the island to defeat the Timuaq. Or so goes the embellished legends people have been speaking since the end of the War of Liberation.

Observing the moss-covered stone walls as I walk toward them, the rigid architecture of the castle is discordant and antithetical to the rolling, curving, and colorful shorelines nearby, rich in deep greens of the conifer trees and deep blues of the sea. The guards, with their polished bronze helmets and armor glimmering in the evening light, instinctively look at me suspiciously. I adjust my hood to slightly reveal my scarred face, one of the distinct trademarks clearly identifying who I am. The men loosen the grips on their halberds and respectfully bow their heads as I walk past.

I find my family seated at the large wooden table at the center of the great hall. The chamber is decorated with numerous shields painted in an array of colors and symbols. Each one indicates a family or house who has pledged fealty to our family and swore to defend the island and Sanqo people. Most of the iconology involves a marine creature: An octopus, a swordfish, a whale, a shark, other various fish. Being a unified nation, despite the assortment of independently-minded factions, speaks to my father's incredible diplomatic capabilities. In my mind and from what I've witnessed, it's no easy feat to get epically stubborn people who have their own agendas to agree to work with you and adhere to your policies.

Seated at the head of the table is Siunqi, as expected, wearing a deep blue and bronze colored robe with our family's sigil, the sea serpent, large and colored teal. It wraps around his body as if he's being strangled by the monstrous beast. My father is adorned in bronze bracelets and necklaces, his strong, boxy jaw juts out as he looks upon the table, impatiently awaiting the feast. My mother, Cheqansiq, is perched beside him to his left, leaning over and speaking to him in hushed conversation that I can't make out. Her bronze necklaces are embedded with turquoise stones and clink as she emphatically speaks to him, her light brown hair tied in a bun at the back of her head, and her long turquoise earrings bounce and shake each time she makes quick and abrupt hand gestures. Despite the intensity of her motions, her face is bright and beaming, and after a servant in a long, light brown skirt refills her chalice with the golden-hued chicha, her long and slender arm extends to nonchalantly grab the beverage without taking her eyes off of her husband.