The Voyage of the Amaranth

Preface - 1900

There are in Plato's narrative no marvels; no myths; no tales of gods, gorgons, hobgoblins, or giants. It is a plain and reasonable history of a people who built temples, ships, and canals; who lived by agriculture and commerce: who in pursuit of trade, reached out to all the countries around them. The early history of most nations begins with gods and demons, while here we have nothing of the kind; we see an immigrant enter the country, marry one of the native women, and settle down; in time a great nation grows up around him.

Ignatius Donnelly, Atlantis: The Antediluvian World, 1882, Chapter III

Circles of reds, yellows, and blues danced across Aristide's face and the surrounding walls, decking them in the kaleidoscopic fractals of morning sun. The windowed doors opposite his bed stretched from floor to ceiling and the thin silken coverings, left slightly ajar the previous night, directed the light towards him. Bleary-eyed he glared at the gap in the coverings and pulled the blanket across his eyes, but even with his eyes tightly closed the light was too bright. He stifled a yawn as he searched for his glasses on his bedside table, precariously stacked journals, the most recent placed flat from the night before obstructed his view of the circular frames. Aristide ran a hand through his hair, pushing back the slightly overgrown curls, and picked up the journal and pencil.

He cautiously pulled back the covering from the windowed doors, trying to minimise the light entering the room. Glancing back at the bed to check he had not woken Kalile, he pushed the stained-glass door slowly. The stained-glass depicted the last moments of Ædiko's battle against the Hrycians, a folktale as old as the city itself, it was a triumphant coronation gift that showed the guardian's final moments leading the charge to the waterfront, Ædiko silhouetted at the town's entrance with her sword aloft. Kalile stirred as the door opened, rolling towards the middle of the bed, entangled in blankets. Aristide closed it quickly, trying to avoid the creak of the hinge, watching as the light in Ædiko's glass image fell across Kalile's sleeping figure.

On the balcony he sat at the small table, on a clear day balcony he could see the entire kingdom. The castle was at the top of the cliff and the balcony overlooked everything from the newly erected statue of Ædiko at the waterfront, to the temple at the midpoint of the cliff. The houses, visible only by their grey roofs, snaked their way up the cliff; the white stone carved out of the cliff face, staggered in the historic defensive style. The streets, like the grey roofs, concealed the houses with clumps of deep-blue flowering evergreens. The lapis coloured flowers, unique in their taxonomy and unlike any other coastal flower he had ever archived, merged with the water giving the appearance of a river flowing from the cliff.

Aristide smiled as he turned back to his journal, pushing his glasses back up his nose he spread the journal across the table, pulling out the loose sheets of paper he had tucked in the folds of the pages. He tucked the pencil behind his ear, resting it between his earlobe and the thin brassy frames as he reread the accounts, jotting notes in margins and checking them against previous entries. Each account was refolded, tucked into the folds of the pages, secured with Gem clips of his own making. The last account was the oldest, and most detailed. He dated his notes in the margins and leafed through the dates to secure it, before coming across a pressed lapis flower from the harbour, pressed in the pages. Holding the flowers up towards the sun, he spun them between his thumb and index finger, watching as the light caught the brilliant blue petals. Securing the page, he returned to the present entry and clipped the flowers in place to the upper corner of the page. Taking his pencil from behind his ear he began to sketch out the flower, removing the clip every so often to turn the flower this way and that before reclipping it and adjusting his sketch.

"Chocolate?"

Kalile leant against the doorframe, her robe billowing around her ankles as she hugged a mug to her chest.

"That would be great."

Kalile disappeared inside for a moment before returning to the balcony. The mugs had no handles, they were brightly painted with intricate line drawings of the royal crests. Each rim was encircled by a dragon-like sea creature who moved in a serpentine fashion, staring with blank white eyes.

"A bit of colour and that'll be as good as any flower on the hillside"

Kalile placed his cup on the table before kissing him on the forehead. Standing by the table she leant on the balcony railing, her hands cupping the mug as she looked down the cliff to the harbour. Aristide kept his ship docked there, the exposed mast with its rolled sails stood double the height of any other ship and looked the very image of naval power. From the castle the Amaranth looked plain compared to the colours of the harbour, but up close her details became more apparent. It was his pride, every element designed, carved, and painted by his own hand from the mermaid on the bow to the hand painted name on the stern.

Kalile turned back to face him, her brow creased,

"Will she head the fleet tomorrow?"

"I'll be at the helm myself; we'll be right behind you."