editing...
A slave ship from the north on due course to U.A. was making a two-day stop at Lwendolen. This ship was not the Florence, but a ship that went by the name of Princess Rosella after the shipmaker's wife's loyal poodle.
It carried a dozen or so slaves in its cargo hold and a dozen or so passengers. Many passengers got off at Lwendolen to stretch their legs, but in truth they were tickled with morbid curiosity to see the destitute country and the shadows of its once grand days. Some well-to-do patrons from U.A. took an unhealthy liking in urchin boys, enticing them with money and candy to bring them home to their plantations to work them, but not just in the fields.
Others who had heard of the fall of an elite family called the Quads, road the train—which they had never seen before and 'my, how lovely!'—and went all the way to Nimrod City to take a gander at the old Quad mansion now deserted and constantly trespassed into. It was a ghost of any former glory with an overrun garden out front. Still the shattered glass where bullets were said to have shot the patriarch of the house in the chest—a rumor much embellished—were still there and visible. Photographs were taken to commemorate the experience and, of course, the U.A. tourists had to visit every single location involved in the 'Quad Incident' as it was now called.
The city of Mourning—which was pretty much abandoned save for a few middle-aged street musicians who refused to leave. Leftover Restaurant—now transformed into a tavern where the poor could get a pint to drink for less than a copker which was the equivalent to a lanny in U.A. Then there was the place commonly referred to as the 'Black Mansion' because it was painted all black—U.A. tourists went there to see the name plaque that read "Sorientto" and shook their heads. There had been potential in the young businessman called Fernando Sorientto thirty years ago until greed got the best of him and he began to perish at his own hands.
Fernando Sorientto now lived in his home country of Sensland alone with no wife as she divorced him two years after giving birth to their daughter. Wife and child went to live in Parajan while Fernando went from high to low. U.A. tourists who had businesses of their own knew they could have saved him from his demise because they knew better, or so they thought. Though neither of them could see past their own egos as it were.
And so, the U.A. tourists hurried about to get all their morbid curiosity satisfied in two days before Princess Rosella would leave Lwendolen and make her way home to less gloomy grounds.
But not everyone was as enthusiastic as the U.A. tourists. There were a few passengers who were on study tour from Koltsland and this was not all fun and games. They were on their way to U.A. for the first time and they didn't want to mess around.
One of these serious folks was Allen Steel. Anyone who met Allen would have been intimidated by his broad shoulders and huge stature. He was a big man to say the least and even at the age of fifty-five, he retained the fitness of his younger days. His bushy black mustache, light brown skin, and shaggy black hair gave the impression of a countryman.
He was standing on the docks, still wanting to stretch his legs on non-moving land, but staying close to the ship. Being in Lwendolen made him anxious. He had a past here he didn't like revisiting. Lwennen police made him nervous even though he knew they wouldn't recognize him. No one had since the day he "died".
Although he did give off the impression of man who didn't want company, if anyone were to talk to him, they would soon realize he was a true friendly Kolt that drawled out all his vowels and took his leisurely time to answer questions even in the most immediate of situations.
Allen gazed out at the docks of Featherly, the coast of Nimrod, but still an hour's worth of train ride from the main part of the city. It was a cloudy, brooding day and he had always known Nimrod to be this way. He didn't like that he could remember it. But forgetting a past that was engrained in his very existence here, today, was not an easy task. Even though thirty years had passed since his "death", Allen was still captured in Nimrod's talons.
He found his relationship with Nimrod to be 'shite business' and 'as black as sewage'. Those were the best phrases he could come up with using his otherwise peaceful vocabulary.
A sudden wave made the ship lurch and a shoulder bumped into him. He turned to the woman he'd bumped into. She tensed under his towering gaze.
"Sor'y, miss," he promptly apologized with a smile and walked off to a less populated part of the ship. That was the thing with being a big man. He had to watch the space he was in all the time.
From where he stood, Allen casually let his eyes wonder over her for a second. She looked to be just about his age. He longed for love and he could have married, but underlying trauma from his youth still affected him to this day even though he seemed fine on the outside.
Many in this day and era were like Allen—fine on the outside. Especially after the three big wars that shook the world and turned the lives of thousands upside down. Everyone claimed they were "fine on the outside". Even if such people could convince those around them, they could not convince themselves about it. They really were not fine.
Nobody was actually fine in this day and era. They were broken and shattered, and beaten and tattered. Yet, somehow, they found the will to keep going often conforming to a religion.
Allen never conformed to a religion despite that Koltsland was the most Christian place a country could get. He always thought that since he had escaped death, he could never fully be 'naked in the eyes of God', or so religious people often said. Basically, it meant admitting all their sins, but Allen wasn't sure if his was a sin. He let his eyes gaze upon the woman in the shawl as she searched the ship's deck for someone.
"Ella!"
The woman turned her head to smile at a thin man coming up to the boat in a flimsy. Anyone familiar with his yellowed skin would recognize him as from Jonchin. He was wearing a cap upon his head and a dark green vest that didn't suit the rest of his black-and-white striped shirt and pants. He was trying to balance on the slightly teetering ship while also chasing after two young children with a third upon his back.
"Ella!" He breathed out, adjusting the youngest girl on his back so she wouldn't fall, "They wanted come back ship." His words were missing some points of grammar—typical mistakes of a Jonchese.
Allen turned his head back to the ocean and gazed wistfully at the greenish blue horizon, wondering what the world would be like out there. And, would he find someone at long last? Was someone like him, who escaped death, be allowed to love another?
"Way'en I don't come 'ome, darlin' good, find me name on the ocean breeze," he quietly recited a poem. It was a wistful poem for a wistful moment. A story of a sailor who dreamt of finding a girl once the wars ended and he could go ashore. The sad poem never permitted him to find a girl and he died at sea. At his death, he became the ocean breeze. The writer of the poem was unknown.
Someone tapped Allen on the shoulder. He turned to a man with red hair that had streaks aging white. He was about Allen's age holding out his hand in friendly greeting. He was the other Kolttsman on this ship.
"I heard yer accent," he drawled his vowels. "Study tour, reck'n."
"Yeah. Allen." Allen gripped the hand in a firm handshake.
The man flashed a smile with a few teeth missing. "Name's Owen."
"Ironworks?"
Owen nodded. "From Evrenland, but orig'nally a Kolttsman meself." He leaned on the railing. He was a head shorter than Allen as most Koltts were. "First time to the big country?"
Allen nodded, remembering the reason he was nervous to get on the ship a few days ago. The only big trip he ever took was from Sensland to Lwendolen and he was young then and didn't remember much about it. So, this would be one of the biggest trips of his life.
"First time?" Allen asked and Owen nodded.
"But heard the big man's big in U.A." Owen pointed to the heavens. Allen instantly understood that Owen was a man of religion. His gray sweater vest, his white shirt, and his neatly parted-in-half hair made it out like he was a true church boy. Owen Orem was known for one more thing and now he reached into his pocket.
"Just got this lil'one down at the Nimrod pub." What he had taken out was a bottle cap. He was one of those collectors who were obsessed with collecting things that frankly Allen didn't understand. But he wasn't one to judge.
"Souvenir?"
"Yoop!" Owen grinned and pocketed the bottlecap, jingling his pocket. There were many more where that came from and most were in his suitcase. All fifty-four bottlecaps. Now it was fifty-five and he hoped to grow it to a hundred in U.A.
"Goal's a hundred of 'em," he said with a laugh. "Say, will you be goin' up to Circumspice? I heard the only way there's be horse 'n' buggy. No trains! Say, we goin' to change that, eh, mate?" He slapped Allen on the shoulder. Allen gave him a grin and a nod.
"To Teddy Walker?" Allen mentioned the name of the boss of Circumspice Iron Company, or, The Old Ore as it was called by the locals.
Owen whistled and his chubby cheeks puffed up. "The money man, eh? Think he's gonna pay us dough whenor we get there, or not until later'in whenor we show him what we've got?" It was a rhetorical question, but Allen shrugged anyway. There wasn't a clear deal as to what was going to happen at the study tour and when they would get their pay and who was going to take care of their accommodations. But Allen was a Kolttsman to the core and Koltts didn't fret about such things.
Allen shifted his weight to lean on his elbow. "All comes when it comes," he began.
"And when it comes it'll be good." Owen finished the popular Koltsland saying, and the two men shared a knowing smile. The message was that there was no point in stressing about the unknown. As long as you had a positive outlook on the outcome, everything would more or less work out. Like most Koltts, Allen and Owen lived by that.
* * *
During that day and the next before the ship left Lwendolen, Allen and Owen became close friends. They had the same humor, the same laid-back typical Kolttsman personalities, and they were both unmarried and hoped to find themselves a lovely woman in U.A.
It was an important matter to both men of middle-age to discuss what they wanted in a woman. And they did so in the diner belowdecks. Of course, they wanted someone who was pretty, but unlike their youthful days, comfort and companionship was more important.
"And," Owen stuck out his thumb to make a point, "she should be willin' to leave U.A. She should come live in me homeland. I am not living in a country that still supports her slavery. It goes against ev'ry fiber of me religion!" Then he shuddered like he was having a seizure and moved onto passionately voicing his opinions on slavery in U.A. His perfectly parted hair flapped like wings when he nodded his head, agreeing with himself.
Allen just listened and nodded. He was thinking about his past and staring at a reflection of himself in a decorative pot that hung behind Owen's head on one of the beams.
How he looked so much like his brother. Allen had recently seen his brother's face on a newspaper article. Fernando had not aged well with such sunken cheeks, but it was understandable. The Lwendolen boss of North Parajan Company—a once thriving company in the exotic country of Parajan—was going through financially tough times. Especially after the war that left Lwendolen in shambles, it was hard for any Lwendolen-based company to survive. It was only a matter of time before it went bankrupt.
Allen gave a nod and a serious frown at Owen who was talking about how slavery should not be a thing ever and that God should punish the people who treated others like animals.
Allen's thoughts soon moved to the past again. No matter what he did or where he went or how he changed his manner of speech, the family shadow still followed him.
Especially now that he was in Lwendolen again after escaping police and family clutches thirty years ago. 'Aulen Sorientto' was the brother of Fernando Sorientto. Even though the cloaked man helped him die as 'Aulen' to start his life anew as Allen Steel, the shadow of the past clung heavily on Allen's shoulders.
"And that, that's me view, mate. Say, let's head up to the decks 'n' get some fresh o' air before bed." Owen headed up the steps.
Up on the decks, the last light faded, turning the ocean dark. Tomorrow, they would be in U.A. and both Allen and Owen hoped it would be good. To this unspoken thought, they gave another toast belowdecks and snoozed the night away in their rooms.
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Note from Author:
Author here again. Here we meet Allen Steel and Owen Orem. These two guys were quick to become friends. Now, all countries mentioned have their origins in our world as we know it.
Comment your guess! If U.A. is inspired by U.S., where do you think Koltsland is? The hint is in the name =>
Comment your thoughts on how the three asterisks (time jump within chapter) and five asterisks (POV jump within chapter) are working for you =>