The Divide

Chapter One: Harry

Auroria looms like a brilliant and yet oh-so-boring stain in the distance.

I keep trying to occupy myself with something other than staring at the perfect pillars of the castle or the grassy, rolling hills behind it, but my eye keeps being drawn back to the damned metropolis no matter how hard I try. The walls surrounding the city are tall and pale with luxurious bronze accents that look like treasure themselves, but I can't marvel at the city's beauty for long. The sight of it just makes me pissed off. I've never seen something as beautiful in Greymoore---other than my Da's ship.

The Kingfell, the vessel we currently sail on, had belonged in Auroria once. If not for the scrapes and scratches that cover its once polished sides, or the pieces of scrap wood that hold the hull together, it might still look like its anchor belongs here. Those days, however, are long gone. The flag of Auroria was replaced with the flag of Greymoore ages ago, though it wasn't entirely my Da's choice to do so. His exile from Auroria is a topic rarely talked about in the Murchadh household, and myself and my sibling Echo have learned not to ask questions where there aren't likely to be answers.

Truthfully, considering that my Da doesn't like to talk about his time in Auroria very much, I know very little about the land we'll soon dock at. All I know is that it's filled with pricks and ponces and that the last place I want to be is here. I'll take a stinky marketplace by the seaside back in Greymoore any day, even if the only loot of value is fresh fish or material barely salvageable enough to craft into clothing.

What Da had told me about Auroria, however, had been enough to convince me to come on this voyage with him. There'll be loot, lads and lasses all around, me boy, Captain Bartholomew Murchadh had said to me, a particular sparkle in his eye that I know means adventure. Whether they're for lovin' or lootin', they'll be easy targets.

I did not need much else.

"We'll be dockin' soon, Harry," a nasally voice says behind me, one I know belongs to that of my Da's First Mate, Wiley.

It's not that he knows the name that I prefer to be called by---anyone who knows of me or my reputation won't dare call me by my birth name, Henry. It's the fact that he's been around since before I was born, and therefore I've had the somewhat unfortunate experience of knowing him for as long as I've been alive. A stout old man, he's often a nervous wreck. I'm not sure if he was like that before my father got his hands on him or if it was after they met that he was reduced to the blithering idiot he is now, but what he lacks in confidence he makes up for in loyalty. His white hair coats his head thinly, his clothes are old and worn, and there is a pink tinge to his cheeks and neck.

I shoot him a sideways glare. "Dae ye think ah cannae see th' docks minutes away?"

Wiley's wrinkled eyes widen. Sometimes I take pleasure in the fact that he most likely sees my Da in the way I look at him. I've been told we look exactly alike---I have his blue eyes and his black hair, but our stances are what differentiate us most. My Da likes to retain that he was once a man of high standing, whereas the way I carry myself consists of years of lurking, fighting and intimidating.

Wiley stammers, "Well, I, erm... I just came tae say that ye'd best git yer finest clothes on afore yer da comes an' sees ye in yer casuals, that's all."

I frown at Wiley, glancing over his own raggedy clothes. I'm not usually one to judge---okay, no, that's a lie. I judge and then that judgement usually turns into me stealing the other person's stuff, unless they're bold enough to fight me. Those are always fun days; it's not often you find someone willing to square up to the son of Captain Murchadh. It's just that if Da expects me to dress up for these poncy pricks... oh, he can think again. If Wiley's not going to meet the royals in his finest clothes, then I'm not either. Considering that Wiley is very rarely found far from his captain's side, it's likely that the blithering idiot is coming with us.