Waters of Prophecy: The Pirate Legend Chronicles

Chapter 2- Perduithin

 King Adjourn had grown short and frail with age, yet he made every effort to conceal this weakness from his people. His elaborate, embroidered gowns, stuffed with goose feathers, trailed on the floor to hide his lifted boots. Though the people noticed his insecurity, they treated him kindly. This was not out of ignorance, but out of respect. For while the king had physically weakened, his mind had sharpened, and his wisdom grew. Most of his days were spent in the Grand Hall of Justice, where he listened to his people's grievances for hours on end. When his daughter turned sixteen, he insisted she sit beside him for at least six hours a day, learning what he called the "suffering of Perduithin."

For five years, Princess Olgarisha sat by her father's side, absorbing the lessons on how a true ruler should conduct themselves. She prepared for the day when she would choose a suitable heir to the throne, one who would rule alongside her and serve as her council. Today was that day—her "hand day"—when she would be announced to the world as ready to receive offers of marriage.

The morning candles had just been lit. A roaring fire burned in the center of the hall, casting shadows on the stone mosaic walls, while the flames reflected light up through the spiral glass ceiling like a beacon toward the thick white clouds above. Outside, several men, women, and children stood in the gentle snowfall, waiting for the massive bronze doors of the grand hall to open.

Among them were soldiers, eager to pledge their loyalty to the fair princess in hopes of joining her Knight Guard. Young girls held instruments, ready to sing in her honor. Merchants (or those posing as such) had horses laden with large sacks, boxes, and barrels—gifts and blessings for the princess. Kings, their sons, and their knights huddled in vibrant clusters of color, their magnificent gowns, armor, and tunics catching the eyes of young, giggling women who carried baskets of exotic fruits from distant lands.

"The Perduithin hold the same belief as the old, forgotten Nortviks—that whatever the future queen sows on her hand day, she will reap in a husband," King Arishor of the Amethyst Isles whispered to his young son, whose eyes leapt eagerly from maiden to maiden.

"Elijah," he said firmly when he realized his son was not paying attention. Elijah, tall for his 15 years, often carried himself like a knight. Dressed in vibrant pink, white, and golden armor, he bore the family's banner, a pink dolphin crowned with amethyst—a striking yet gentle emblem.

"Where do these maidens hail from?" Elijah asked, watching them dance by.

"Avalorn," his father replied with a chuckle. "But they will claim to be from Merdus. Best not to argue—those women are as clever as they are beautiful."

"Avalorn? I read it was a land of ruins and pestilence, a place for the lowest of criminals," Elijah said, confused by his father's praise.

King Arishor smiled knowingly. "Aye, that's what its king wants everyone to believe."

"There's no king in Avalorn, father. I'm certain of it," Elijah protested, tightening his grip on the banner.

Arishor's smile widened. "He's not a king who wears a crown or wields armies. He's a pirate. But the people of Avalorn chose him as their leader. It's his wealth that's rebuilding their lands."

The bells began to toll, signaling the beginning of the ceremony. Clerics placed a giant circular lens over the fire, causing the smoke to change color—blue and white, the colors of Perduithin. Banners of a polar bear, crowned and seated on a throne of human skulls, unfurled alongside the hall's stained glass windows.

"It's nearly time," King Brand of the Brotherhood Islands remarked to his sons—Lord Fletcher, the self-denounced prince, and Krane, the rightful heir.