Qeresî

Chapter 12 Preview, Part 6: The Crown's Hometown

Added 2024-10-07 17:32:01 +0000 UTC

I think posting these previews was really the Best idea because I'm finding myself writing daily again!! Not in huge numbers, but we're ~25k words into the chapter, which is double the amount I had like 2 weeks ago lol.

This preview is also one of my favs as this section of the chapter is providing pretty big Set-Up for the expedition to the mountains 👀

It's a relatively big spoiler in that it signposts what you can expect to see in CH13/14 as well, but it's also a major component of the Crown's backstory and their personal character arc, so... if you're curious to get some sneak peeks for that, read on!

“Where are you from, my Crown?”
You part your lips reflexively to reply, but then pause when you realize you don’t know how to answer. “What do you mean?”
Ishrah gives you a confused look as she fluffs up one of your pillows. “I mean your hometown. Where are you from? I’m from Çenare, I don’t know if you’ve heard of it- you probably wouldn’t have, it’s quite small. It’s on the border with Zerat, south of Marabad.”
You suddenly realize you don’t know its name.
“Your Imperial Majesty?” Ishrah stops her work. “Are you alright?”
Her words hardly get through to you as you stand there and stare off into the distance, frozen in time and place.
You don’t know the name of your hometown. You don’t know the name of the place where you were born. Where your mother is from, where your father is from. You never learned the names.
“Ishrah, do we have a map of Rojan?” you ask, frowning as you wonder why it never occurred to you before.
You suppose by the time you were old enough to ask such questions, starting from eight years old, you gradually became accustomed to being on the run. Perhaps you asked your parents once, but you do not remember if they ever answered. Everything of your memory from around the time you and your parents first left your hometown is blurry and difficult to recall. You only remember the chaos of it all, the fear in your parents’ faces…
Ishrah looks at you with concern, then quickly turns to one of the many bookcases in your room. She takes a thick scroll from among a small stack sorted neatly beside some books, and moves it to your desk in front of the windows. You follow her as she spreads the scroll out across the polished wooden surface, revealing a detailed map of Rojan drawn in black ink.
You start from Marabad, marked with a notable dot on the map, and retrace the steps of your journey, trying to reorient yourself. You know, vaguely, where the place of it should be. Among the hills that are situated at the base of the Armas Mountains, near the mountain pass that opens up to the Sacati Steppes in the north of Arsur.
The maps your mother owned, which you used to travel, always had it marked plainly with a simple diagonal cross. It didn’t list its name, but you knew that it was your home.
When you look at this map, made for a Crown, you don’t see it.
“It’s not here,” you say, eyes flitting across the ink with your frown deepening. “Why isn’t it on the map?”
“Most smaller villages aren’t,” Ishrah says from beside you. She points to an empty spot beneath Marabad. “See? Çenare isn’t on the map either. I think the cartographer who made this only mapped out the larger cities.”
When you remain silent, eyes fixed on the map as if staring long enough would spontaneously make your village appear, Ishrah gently touches your shoulder.
“Crown $name, what’s wrong?” She finally voices her puzzlement at your behavior, though it isn’t a judgmental one. “We can have someone draw a new map for you with your hometown on it if it would please you.”
You exhale a long, weary sigh. “I don’t know its name.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I don’t know what my village is called.” You push away from the map. It shouldn’t matter, it doesn’t change anything, but how could you not know?
You feel suddenly, and terribly, adrift. When you traveled by yourself before, you thought the lack of companionship was what weighed heaviest on you, but now that you’re surrounded by people, you realize that might not have been its only cause.
This, this not knowing, is a loneliness you cannot put into words. An otherness that has severed you from something as essential as breathing: belonging.
“We can ask someone,” Ishrah says, smiling at you in an effort to cheer you up as you slowly sit down on the edge of your bed. “Surely a well-traveled cartographer could tell you the name. Or we could send one to your hometown! It would only take a week to travel, and—”
[...]
You instruct Ishrah to go find R and tell them to come see you as soon as they have the time. Thankfully, you do not have to wait long for your Sorcerer to appear, knocking at your door a short half hour later.
“Is something wrong, $name?” they ask, frowning with worry. “Ishrah said it might be urgent.”
“Not urgent, strictly speaking.” You point to the map on your desk, having poured over it while waiting as you tried to remember the exact location of your hometown. “It’s related to the Armas Mountains. Since we have started planning the expedition, I thought it would best for you to know as soon as possible.”
R moves forward to join you by your desk, casting a curious glance at the map. “Is it regarding the route?”
“If possible,” you say, “I would like to visit my hometown on the way to the mountains.”
While R looks mildly surprised by the request, they don’t question it, simply nodding as they return to looking at the map. “Whereabouts is it?”
You point to the small smattering of hills drawn beneath the eastern part of the mountain range. “Somewhere near here is my best guess.”
“That’s on the other side of the mountain pass,” R notes, pointing out the passageway to the steppes to the north of Rojan, the territory of nomadic Sacati tribes. They hum in thought. “It would be quite a detour to head for the eastern ranges, four days at least. Your father’s goal was Peak Asha, was it not?”
“It was.” The longer you are away from your throne, the greater the risk the nobility will notice something amiss. Perhaps it isn’t worth the danger, and you should plan the visit to your hometown for another time.
R thinks on it a moment longer, and then says, “We could arrange to have shirdals delivered to us after we visit your hometown. It would cut the detour short to just a day or two.”
“To carry us up the mountains?” You can’t quite hide the wonder in your voice. Only a few times have you caught sight of shirdals being used as mounts before, carrying messengers quickly through the air.
“As far as they are allowed to go by Şahmaran, in any case.” R taps on the edge of the map, staring at the circle drawn around Peak Asha. “Shirdals do not have as much endurance as horses, so we could not ride them from here to the mountains or to your hometown. They are not beasts of burden. But a trip from your hometown to the mountains would be just about doable, especially if we send some soldiers ahead of us with supplies and travel light.”
You do know that shirdals are mainly used in emergencies since they are quite temperamental as mounts and very difficult to tame, so horses are the preferred choice. For short journeys, usually a day or two at most in short bursts, they would be sufficient, but for anything longer than that would be a challenge—not to mention that flying through the air is much more perilous for the rider. Still, the thought of being able to fly through the air on the back of one makes you almost forget about the danger.