A poster with a fine drawing of Sigurd fluttered against the port's cool breeze. There was to be a play about the vicaul hero, prepared by the bard Coran and the ever so theatrical, Zaffiro. I did not know Sigurd at the time, but I did see him carry a troll once and heard a great many more things. Seeing it would be something I'd make sure to do that gathering.
"Move it, hangman!" a brawny man barked at me while carrying a massive wooden beam along with several other leather-faced dock workers.
I apologized and made way for the group, who then marched towards the towering galleon - The Dreadnought. I had never seen a bigger ship like it and while it was unfinished and depended on its many tethers within the walkways, it was also the biggest thing in Port Frey.
"I don't care if it pays poor," an old dock worker said to a younger one. "I'm only working outside of that thing!"
"You really scared of the rats?" the younger one scratched his flakey head. "I swear there's probably only six left in there."
"It's not the damn rats, boy. It's... the air in it. Not the smell, but the feeling. The way it wraps around your skin."
"How?"
"It's like...it's like it's holding on to you. Gripping and sometimes scratching."
Their conversation then turned quiet the moment they saw me. I gave them a quick, apologetic bow and went on my way.
The sun was about to set and I knew as well as all the other returned what that meant. More of us, and for me, that meant more stories.
*** *** ***
The scent of Chef's cooking gently poured out of the warmly lit tavern. A few Returned from Cole were already inside, looking for a good drink to quench their thirst. None of them sang their shanties yet, but seeing as some were already two tankards in and laughing at the presence of each other, that wouldn't be so for long.
The town guard patrolled the outside, circulating the streets with the clings and clangs of their shields and armor. Voices of passing townsfolk scattered about with mumbles, whispers, and the occasional passive aggressive remark to the Returned. I personally had one about my noose and whether I'd be hanging around town for long. If I had a copper for every time I heard that...
I took a table in the tavern and found a place on it to lay down my journal, flimsy pen, and recently acquired spear. I proudly reveled on the latter, rubbing the flat of its hot blade and gripping its leather-wrapped body. It was heavier than the sticks I practiced with in Mandala, but I didn't worry. I learned the sword and the stick in a few weeks. The spear shouldn't be an issue.
"Merry," a reverberating hand fell on my shoulder.
I turned to it, tracing the black mass of an appendage to Renzer - or at least I think it was. Both the man's hands were enveloped by a darkness and traces of an ethereal white. Half of his face was now consumed by the colors and he bore an expression more confident than last we met. He was different, and if I was being honest with myself, sinister even. Still I was glad to see a familiar face so early that night.
"How have you been, my dear friend?" I grabbed his braced arm for a shake. It hummed to the touch. "You've changed I see."
"So have you," he pointed to my spear. "May I?"
I happily handed him the weapon and, to my surprise, was quickly lifted along with it. Panicked, I asked him to let me down. He did so and laughed. So did I, but was a little less sincere about it.
*** *** ***
We shared the table soon after and traded stories of our time between the gatherings of Solace and our journey back to the port where we met. Drinks would have also been on their way if it were not for the sudden entrance of a group of solemn individuals. From their colors alone I could tell they were Celestine, and by the way their hands were clasped together, they were without a doubt religious bunch.
They made their way to the center of the tavern, where a tall, yellow haired priest opened his arms to the cobwebbed ceiling. Bless this, bless that, be thankful for whatever life has given you and whatnot - was all I bothered to hear. They then dispersed and began entangling any unfortunate folk that dared glance at them. Renzer shook his head.
"It's a bit confusing isn't it?" I whispered to him. "Dedicating your life to what's probably just stories written by some man many years ago."
"Like how you're dedicating your life to stories?" Renzer raised his only visible brow.
"Well that's different," I told him. "I find-"
"What is it that is confusing?" a woman from the group approached.
I sighed as her tranced eyes and eccentric smile loomed over me. I tried to ignore her.
"Good sir," she pressed. "What is it that is confusing?"
I turned to Renzer and found only an empty chair.
"The word of Aer is-"
"I'm not really interested," I gestured for her to give me space. "It's good that you have a religion, I just believe that-"
"Father Bellamy!" she called.
I cursed silently.
"This man here is confused about the word of Aer," she told him.
Father Bellamy only gave the woman a small nod and gestured her away. I was glad to be rid of her uncomfortably close presence, but only found myself missing it once the priest got even closer than she did.
"You are confused?" he asked, bearing the same smile as his followers. "What is it you are confused about, my good sir?"
"Nothing," I told him while trying to summon my own ersatz expression.
"Maybe you are confused by our faith?" He got even closer, his strands of yellow hair wisping near me. "How we are practicing it, yes?"
"I just see it as unnecessary. The way-"
"Why it is all necessary!" Bellamy chuckled as if I had told him a flattering joke. "The world we live in now, full of poverty and injustice, is so because of blasphemy and heresy. Because of these things it is now a world where gods fall from the sky. We should all find solace in faith. We should all find it with Aer."
I scoffed. "Gods falling from the sky. I doubt that's even the case."
"Well it is true, my friend," he laid his hand on my shoulder. Renzer's demonic touch didn't even feel as odd as his. "We must all call upon each other, unite under Aer and follow his word. Only then can we achieve this peace we are looking for."
I scoffed again, though this time it was only to fill an awkward silence I knew was coming. When it did come, it hit hard and Father Bellamy's tranced stare didn't help at all.
Then a comforting voice behind my shoulder caused me to jump at my seat. "You are Celestine?"
The voice came from a man who wore Celestine blue, a pair of spectacles, and a silver circlet around his short brown hair. He also had a peaceful aura around him, one that I recognized during my first gathering in Solace. Telray, another Celestine priest. I had heard he was kinder than most.
He rescued me by offering his hand to Father Bellamy for a shake. Soon both priests engaged in a conversation, one I quickly left.
*** *** ***
I found Renzer staring at the road leading to the docks outside of town. When asked why, he only told me that trouble is coming. I stood by him for a good minute or two before the sound of clanging armor approached us.
It was Sir Theodore, patrolling the now lonely streets. I had met the man for only a quick exchange in Solace and by gods was it a memorable one.
I had been writing in the tavern when he suddenly walked in with a big smile and a basket of flowers under his arm. These were not the typical heads you'd find anywhere in the mountain, for each petal was colorful and healthy. Some were circlets he happily wove himself. Everyone got one.
Now he was heavily armored with a shield on one hand and a sword on another. He also did not smile and looked at us as if a lion prowled behind our shoulders. A morbid comparison, but it was the best way I could describe it.
"How goes it, good sirs?" he bowed to us.
"Fine, Sir Theodore," I said. "We were just getting away from all that Celestine chatter inside. Father Bellamy. Do you know much about the man?"
"Father Bellamy," he raised his brows far above his already wide spectacles. "I believe he and his followers mean well but their actions have caused nothing but show hypocrisy and cast a shadow over those good men and women who practice the faith the way it should. There is nothing noble about using poisoned words to force unsuspecting individuals in a god they may not completely believe in. You have to show these people through kindness and gentleness the benefits of having a faith and only then can you actually bring in the true believers - the men and women who will entrust their entire lives for something that is real. I believe that is noble."
It was only when Sir Theodore bid us farewell did I notice how ridiculous I must have looked. Raised brows, dropped jaw, and cocked neck. I doubt I recorded each word he said perfectly, but dear reader, believe me when I say that they were reassuring and in fact noble.
I doubt even Sir Theodore himself remembered those exact words, but that is one of the reasons why I write this chronicle - to document the acts of the Returned, no matter how minute or quiet they could be.
This chronicle, which I entitled The Red Gathering, have acts that are far from minute and not at all quiet. It all began when Renzer snapped his eyes back to the docks, where screaming and fighting broke the silent night.