Cast Off

Upon the pier of seaside Onaffor, a procession of flames could be seen dancing upon the snowcapped dock. In the low light of the early evening, one would be forgiven for thinking that the bustling merchant's town had been set ablaze, but to the Onda, it couldn't be mistaken for anything but a sendoff to those who would sacrifice their lives for Fleecia. Draped in enveloping, crimson robes of fine silk, countless masked Onda marched at a glacial pace to the pier's end, each of them carrying in hand sceptres tipped with flaming braziers.

The honoured ritual, which was said to grant good luck to prospective sailors, had been a facet of Fleecian culture since before writers had existed to document it. Firewood, kindling and tinder had always been in great demand within the country, and so occasions of grand importance were often commemorated by offering fuel as a sacrifice. The red robes of the shamanistic practitioners of Fleecian faith claimed their spectacular colour from flowers native to the highland valley, often picked during the summer--their vibrant dye emblematic of the country's fierce resilience in the face of danger and a major export to Tor.

A fleet of both traditional Fleecian longships and modernised galleys inspired by the naval designs of the mainland were moored or idle in the water close to the pier--almost 80 vessels in total, with each of them housing between 50-90 sailors. In total, the fleet contributed close to Fleecia's entire naval strength, decimated by Leviathan's attacks but still numbering in excess of both Tor and Khazman's warships. It was quite possibly the single largest collection of military vessels the world had ever seen at that point in history. Rumours of God-King Emir plotting to destroy the Heavenly King had been circulating ever since the fiend of water first appeared across Onaffor-Hen, and it was plain to see that his plans were finally coming to a head as caravans from all over the country arrived to supply the fleet with the necessary supplies to ensure its survivability.

"Hoh…" From atop a hill overlooking the coastal town, a woman watched the scene unfold with interest, "Ships have certainly come a long way in 500 years, haven't they? Compared to these, the vessel I once sailed to confront Leviathan seems like a death-trap."

"I'm pleased to hear that the fleet is to your liking." From her side, Emir expressed his gratitude, "We stand to depart at the crack of dawn. My druids have informed me that today's wind is to be a favourable one."

"Even so, you must understand that without the Hero, many lives will be lost in the coming battle."

"Are you under the impression that these sailors are unaware?" Emir replied, "They have all embraced that truth--no, it could be said that the threat of death has only served to spark a fire in their hearts. Any of these fine warriors would be more than honoured to lay their lives down in service of Fleecia. I wonder how they will react knowing the Great Hermit will be accompanying them on their journey?"

"You haven't told any of them?"

"I'm sure it will make for a pleasant surprise."

"Hm." Shilahi's eyes wandered, "I suppose you'll be handing that weapon over to me?"

Within Emir's grip was a spear--magical at a glance but mundane enough in its simplistic design to fool one from a distance. More than anything else, it appeared to be tremendously ancient. The tip was afflicted with a strange, blue rust that dulled its metallic gleam.

"Of course, as a boy who once dreamt of becoming king, I was enamoured with the legends of our people…" He reminisced, "But this spear--proof of my worthiness, has always captivated me the most. I would not believe for a spare moment that the imperfection upon its tip was anything but the encrusted blood of a Heavenly King. It warms my heart to know that faith was not misplaced."

The spear was Shilahi's. What began as a mere enchanted weapon rose to infamy shortly after it was used to land the killing blow on Leviathan 500 years ago. Preserved as a sacred treasure of Fleecia, only the various God-Kings across the ensuing ages were entitled to touch it, and even fewer had the will to use it, for the spear had developed a reputation for cursing whoever wielded it with terrible misfortune--a leading cause of death for overzealous rulers. It was said that the blue blood staining its point retained Leviathan's endless rage.

"I must confess… I've yet to strike down a fly with this spear." He continued, "-But, perhaps that's because I've always known it was never mine to wield."

Emir handed the spear towards Shilahi.

"How could I possibly claim this spear now, when its original owner is standing right here?"

"There's nothing special about it." Despite those words, she took the weapon without a moment's hesitation, "It just happened to be in the right place at the right time."

"The same could be said of all arms."

"Perhaps." She remarked, "I do appreciate your sentimentality."

"The very notion of slaying Leviathan is beyond all comprehension." Emir replied, "Knowing that you once emerged victorious from an encounter with the beast accompanied by only two comrades is almost unbelievable. Countless ballads have attempted to capture the essence of that battle, but I wouldn't say that any have ever succeeded."

"There is no glory in slaying a beast." Shilahi mused, "-But as to whether Demons can be considered beasts, I cannot say for certain. This day marks only the return of a cyclical calamity destined to one day rewrite history from scratch. Even if Leviathan is killed, its corpse will rise again. That is why I must leave."

"To find the Hero?"

"If only things were so simple."

"...What do you mean by that?"

"A terrible battle awaits on the horizon. One that breaches the confines of our small world, and one that will decide the future of all life. To be victorious will be to triumph over the whims of the very Gods. For that, a strength greater than any Hero will be necessary. My journey's purpose is to ensure the existence of that strength. If I cannot find it, then Leviathan will prove to be the very least of our worries."

"To triumph over the Gods…" Emir smiled, "A worthy challenge for the Holy Alliance."

"-But for now, the time to slay the serpent will soon be upon us." Wandering away from him, Shilahi carried her spear proudly, "I'll be taking the largest ship for myself, naturally."

"As you wish." He conceded, "May the winds favour your voyage."

…

..

.

Every Onda knew the legend of the Great Hermit, but few had ever expected to see the woman in question, isolated within the crumbling ruins of the highlands as she was. When Shilahi descended to the town of Onaffor, it wasn't a surprise that she went unrecognised in the hours leading up to the fateful voyage, when sailors gorged themselves on meals fit for kings within the coastal settlement's bustling taverns.

When Emir, too, appeared to make the announcement of her arrival, his words were first of all met with scepticism, but as parallels were drawn between historical accounts of Shilahi's appearance by those who were well-versed in the scholarly disciplines, and as the revelation dawned upon the inhabitants of the town that Emir's spear had been entrusted to the girl, few dared to contest her identity. On the contrary, just as Emir had predicted, Shilahi's presence was met with much rejoicing.

The sombre ritual of that early morning was transformed into a raucous gathering of festivity. Worries of the fleet's survival were replaced by unquenchable hopes, with warriors arguing over who would land the fatal blow upon the dreaded beast. As she bided her time with a drink--the first she had tasted in over 500 years, Shilahi was hounded by sailors and bards demanding to be a part of her personal crew, or to spill the details of her past triumphs. A few headstrong Onda even had the bravery to ask for her hand in marriage.

But never were those sailors so indulgent in their feasting and drinking as to be unprepared for the coming voyage--only enough to steel themselves for the battle. When all was said and done, every tavern in the seaside town had been emptied of bread and wine. Embarking onto the channel of Onaffor-Hen, Shilahi was naturally keen to commandeer the fleet's largest vessel, and assembled her crew from the finest labourers available. With spear in hand, she couldn't help but feel slightly nostalgic as memories of her time travelling with Barion and Dorma came flooding back.

Their plan was simple--incur the wrath of Leviathan by encroaching on its territory and slay the fiend in glorious battle. While it may have been considered suicidal by mainland standards, such strategies were not unwelcome in Fleecia. Amidst the flowing tide of ships and sailors were arranged bowman, harpoon-throwers and attendants to the cannons of those vessels which were fortunate enough to store them. The idea couldn't be entertained for a second that such weapons would penetrate Leviathan's scales, but with Shilahi alongside them, those sailors had been granted a hopeful purpose--to draw the beast's ire while the Great Hermit sought the killing blow.

Sailing in a loose formation to counter the Heavenly King's sheer size, many of Onaffor's residents watched with conflicted eyes as the fleet disappeared towards the horizon--the rallying cries of rowers audible until the moment they disappeared from view completely. Fleecians were no strangers to the sea. It could be said that they alone had the right to Leviathan's head, for depriving them of the deep blue they so adored. Unlike the saddening passing of a Kraken, which was heralded as the embodiment of the wide ocean, tranquil and cruel in equal measure, Leviathan was a godless fiend in need of quelling.

There was no need for scouting. Leviathan's arrival would be signalled by death and destruction. Despite the lively atmosphere of that morning's festivities, a worried silence dominated the fleet as it progressed further into the tainted domain of Onaffor-Hen, with sailors unwilling to stare over the salt-encrusted hulls lest the depths return their gaze. Shilahi, in the meanwhile, occupied herself with meditation in preparation for the battle, recalling her previous encounter with the eater of worlds. Would the beast still recognise her? Or, was that incarnation of Leviathan a separate creature entirely?

"O-Oi!" Through the door to the captain's cabin, her meditation was interrupted by a panicked voice, "I saw something! I saw something sinking into the water!"

Her heart jumped. The time had come. Barging onto the deck, she held the shaft of her spear in an iron grip and marched towards the bow, witnessing nothing but the sea foam lapping at the ship's hull.

"Captain…" As the crew rallied, a sailor approached her, "There was something… it was like the body of a snake, but larger than anything I've ever seen…"

"We've no doubt rattled its cage." She replied fearlessly, "Sound a horn. If the other ships-"

Though she continued to speak, her voice was drowned out by a peculiar sound, like a volcano erupting from beneath the waves. A thunderous geyser of roiling water had completely engulfed a longship near the fleet's front, and out from the explosion of foam and sound rose a black shadow--no, it was a deep-blue, with scales that glistened against the rising sun and heavensward eyes which dwarfed any of the vessels witnessing its horror. Like that, the longship was engulfed in a single snap, swallowed whole by a creature of unconquerable proportions.

As it descended back into the ocean, the waves created by its breach threatened to crack the hulls of those shell-shocked ships, sending sailors overboard and into the hopeless depths.

"By the Gods!" As droplets descended upon them like rain, Shilahi could just barely hear the lamentations of her crew, "It's the size of a mountain! How are we supposed to fight something like that!?"

Without hesitation, she leapt up to the gunwale and gripped a knot of a nearby shroud to steady herself, eyes scanning the waterline and below for signs of any movement. As if hunting a mere bass, her spear was readied as if to strike down the first sign of life that revealed itself. As the seconds passed, the bells of nearby ships could be heard signalling the beginning of a truly ferocious battle--bowstrings straining and cannonballs lugging into place below deck.

"I can hear it again… the song of a frenzied whale…" Shilahi muttered, closing her eyes and taking a shallow breath, "Once more… I'll stain this channel black with your blood."