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XVI. Stoic, approaching the third island
With a finger pointed down towards the land below, Sundahl shouted, "Look! I can see the island."
"Yes, we know," Alastor said while wiping a tear from his eye because of how quickly they were traveling. "I am just glad that we made it out of the burning sea. Is everyone okay?"
Most answered, some nodded and some simply did not respond at all due to the exhaustion of having to endure the heat and steam for as long as they did. But the dense steam faded slowly as they came close to the shoreline.
"I can finally breathe," Gaijin said quietly in relief. He promptly lifted his fingers from his nose. It was his first time speaking in a long time. During their long and arduous trip to the third island, he had confined himself mostly to silence. The others took him for a man of few and choice words and in some truth, they were not wrong. Gaijin was often to himself, joining in on conversations typically when someone would inquire a question directed towards him; Atlas was often that someone. Gaijin had been mostly in conversation with Prometheus, his closest living friend, much to the others' ignorance.
"I apologize for the unpleasantness," Atlas shared. "We did well and I am pleased that there were was not a single Deathknight or even Shadowbird. That is a good sign."
"Yes, it is. I am pleased and relieved as well," said Alastor. "The people that I could make out in the first and second islands seemed to be fine and that is good to see. I doubt they were even made aware of the havoc in the neighboring country. And that is bad but good at the same time for two simple reasons alone because since we're still working out evacuation plans we absolutely cannot afford any cause for hysteria in the islands. But it is bad because of their ignorance to the current situation."
"It's been what...four days? They would surely know by now," Maddard questioned with outrage. "How could they not know?"
"I understand your thinking, Maddard. But the islands and Shyonnississ are simply neighboring countries. Beyond that, there are no official ties between them. So say there is an ongoing catastrophe in Shyonnississ like we have now, Shyonnississ is under no obligation to warn the Rare Nations and the Rare Nations is under no obligation to aid Shyonnississ. Also, it is difficult to send and receive information because of the distance and heat created by the burning sea. Messenger birds often do get lost in the steam, and traveling by ship would take days. But, it is merely a matter of time before the citizens are informed. Do not fret, Bessarian. We will inform the magistrate as soon as we reach the citadel and we will be there soon, I assure you. Magistrates is the equivalent to the rank of the emperor in this country. He is a good man. I appointed him to his position personally. He is like your brother in some ways, their adamance is parallel," Atlas chuckled. "His name is Sebastian H. Roth. I think you will take a liking to him."
"Okay," Maddard said with a sigh.
"Pontus will take us before the citadel steps. Because we will be there within the hour, I suggest finishing the food and drinks now," Atlas stressed.
"What about you, father? I haven't seen you eat," Olympia asked with genuine concern.
"I am still in my six month fast, Dande. I have one month left. But, trust that I will be fine."
"I am not so sure, father," Baccus challenged. "With all that is happening...we will need all the strength we can get. Father, can't you break it for this emergency?"
"I am afraid I cannot, Baccus. You know how sacred the fast is. At my age, refraining from food and water is not an issue the way it is for humans. And besides you have the Rare Men, what do you need an ancient fossil like me for," he giggled, his hand rubbing Baccus's hair.
Baccus shrugged and sighed to himself. "Fine, do what you want..." He muttered under his breath. Baccus was a bit disappointed that Atlas would make such a foolhardy decision. He knew about their fasts and how long some of them could live on without food or water. But it was not all glitter. There was a point in Baccus's life, around his early twenties, when he noticed Chaos going through a three month fast. He could not believe what they'd put themselves through. Chaos, during his three month period, would not so much as consume any sort of food or beverage for weeks on end. His veins had been pressed against numerous parts of his face as if they were stuck in some sort of permanent pausal, his ribs poked into his belly, there was not a moment where his stomach was not grumbling and crying aloud. But that was not the worse of Chaos's physique that Baccus pondered on. It was something of the bizarre; Baccus actually saw wounds on Chaos's body. He'd never seen a Purple Man bleed. Baccus took careful notice of how lethargic and sickly Chaos was during the latter part of the three month fast. So to see Atlas fasting for six months meant nothing good to Baccus. But he just sighed and shrugged it off.
Atlas rubbed Baccus's shoulder before pressing his forehead against his. He was tearful but no tears fell from the mighty man's eyes.
"All shall be well, my son," he said.
He pulled his forehead away and took a hard exhale.
A deal of time passed and the group found themselves looking down upon a grand assembly of large buildings and fancy statutes that stood dozens of feet from the mosaic tiles embedded in the ground. They arrived at the citadel in Moros, the third island of the Rare Nations. The two others they passed were Atland which was the first island they were in, and then the second island, Kingrose.
"I must admit. The north's beauty is truly a wonderful thing to be admired. It reminds me that there is more to this world than just the heat of the sun and the sands between my toes," the eldest nobleman spoke. It had been a while since he last talked. He was mostly seen staring contemplatively at the wide scenery below: the smoldering ocean, the occasional view of partially frozen over pastures, the grand kingdoms that would stretch across for miles in all directions.
"It reminds us that there is always more out there," Atlas said. "Bound to both ignorance and imagination until we are blessed with the opportunity of getting to finally experience it. Truly a thing of wonder."
Pontus began lowering the group down to the citadel right before the Dornham castle, the castle that all appointed magistrates occupied during their time as ruler.
Before the castle doors were four brawny guards who were dressed in quilted clothing to help them to endure the harsh cold of the north. Strapped onto their cozy clothing were sheaths with steel swords inside. They peered up and saw the group descending down like angels from the heavens high above. As they caught a better glimpse of what they were seeing, the guards immediately dropped to one knee as if they shared a hive-like mind. They bowed their heads with their hands placed flat on the cold ground. Their faces were solemn and unyielding.
Those like Maddard, Gaijin, and the noblemen were shocked by the sudden behavior of the guards. They were not at such a far distance, so they could see very well what the guards did.
Reading into Maddard and Gaijin's puzzled faces, Baccus moved next to them and said, "Remember when we were in Kingrose and I told you to be prepared to meet the people in this part of the Rare Nations. When I said they respected and revered the Purple Men as gods, I was not kidding. This island is where the Rare Nations began over three hundred years ago. It was Atlas who helped create the country to what it is now all those centuries ago and ever since, Atland has the most loyalty to the Purple Men. They call it Atland because of Atlas. But most believe Atlas died centuries ago, but only a few know he is still alive. To show respect for him, they honor each and every Rare Man with esteem higher than their own magistrate. It is actually in their statute to do so and has been all those years since."
Pontus dropped everyone down to the steps, causing the guards to stand up and salute the incoming Rare Men. They touched ground. The guards averted their eyes in respect. They hurried for the doors and pulled them open. They walked inside the group, none speaking a word to any of the girls, apart from Olympia who thanked the dutiful guards.
Atlas took the lead and guided the group through the heavily staffed castle. The halls were flooded by waves of servants and workers who quickly panicked at the sight of the scuttling Purple Men. Droves after droves removed themselves from the Purple Men's path. They even took idle glances at Gaijin which would turn to internal hysteria. They did not know what they were seeing as they gazed upon those long furry arms, the purple eyes that glared like purple embers, and the piercing claws that were sticking from those scaly hands of his. Gaijin was surely an unusual sight for them, even in a world with super human beings who glowed purple and flaming armored beasts and dark flying creatures the size of noble castles.
The group paced down several hallways that had many twists and turns to them but the Purple Men led them through it all. Even Baccus, who was very familiar with the castle had difficulty remembering where he was in the building. But when they turned a corner and arrived at a large set of double doors with fancy ornaments in the shapes of lions embedded into the framework, everything came back to him. Even the door handles were shaped and rounded out into the face of fearsome lions with two rings hanging from their mouths. They were walking directly toward the magistrate's chambers. Upon reaching the doors, Atlas knocked on the door and shouted the magistrate's name.
"Roth," he shouted while knocking upon the door. Feeling a presence lurking from behind the door, Atlas lowered his hand and stepped back from the door.
A gust of wind swirled as both doors began splitting from the middle. They were being pulled into the room and immediately they beheld a room that glistened golden like the sun. The chamber room was adorned in gold fashioned into lions with wild manes that spread like heat radiating from a star and in between it stood a bold man with blonde hair and irises so light blue one could think he was born from the seas themselves. He was a beautiful man with tanned skin, hair that curled and flowed down his back like soft cotton, and a jawline with stubble so chiseled it rivaled Atlas's. To say bluntly, he was handsome. He was tall and muscular.
On his face was a cheery expression. His arms were spread out wide, inviting the embrace of the others, Atlas especially. He welcomed Atlas and the others whom he'd known into his arms. A tearful gleam beamed past his shut eyelids in the form of a tear that streamed from out of his right eye. Alastor laughed hardily and patted the blond man on his shoulder before coming come to shake his hand.
"It has been a long time since I've seen you all," Roth exclaimed happily.
"It has," Alastor agreed.
Roth paused for a moment after noticing more people who lingered in the back. He saw a few of them behind the Sundarians and Purple Men but only caught. Initially, he was confused once he recognized men adorned in southern garments but then he took notice to their necks. They each had a purple cloth tied around their necks, from there he immediately knew why they were here.
"Are these southern men your new pupils, father?"
"These are the new apprentices, yes."
He laughed mightily. "How I remember those days in their shoes." He turned and addressed the noblemen, "You are each in good hands. By the time you have all completed your apprenticeship, you will become better men."
As he completed his last words, he caught a peculiar looking individual covered in all black. His heart nearly fell from his chest.