Caesar lay on a bed inside a dark, cramped, windowless cabin, which came with a tall stool that doubled as a desk, a wood bucket for waste, and a straw mattress that itched and scratched at his back. In the darkness of the room, he felt himself rock back and forth as he sailed towards his fate. Since boarding getting good sleep had been impossible due to the constant rocking of the ship, the crashing of waves, and the endless creaking of the ship's wooden frame.
Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!
Handheld bells rung endlessly accompanied by the cheering of the crew onboard. On northeastern ships, this custom traditionally signaled the approaching end of a voyage. Caesar groaned as he got dressed in his uniform to prepare for arrival. After nearly a week and a half at sea, he had finally reached his fate, Greenland.
Caesar grabbed a small bag filled with his belongings and stepped out of his cabin, walking through the small halls of the ship where the smells of whale oil and fish were omnipresent. This was because the whaling industry was the primary reason anyone ever ventured to Greenland. To get Caesar away from Boston as quickly as possible instead of waiting for a military vessel to become available for the transport, Captain Delata chose to stuff Caesar onto a whaler named "Pirate's Bane" which regularly made trips back and forth between Boston and Greenland. It was captained by a grizzled, middle-aged man named Hatin Flinn.
Caesar emerged onto the deck of the ship greeted by the blinding sun, salty air and bitter unseasonal cold. Caesar shielded his eyes, adjusting to the light. Once he regained vision, he looked towards the horizon and saw the rocky drab landscape of Greenland stretching out in front of him. Snow-covered mountains, rugged shores, and a flat, dull gray greeted him. Caesar sighed at the sight. Once he set foot on Greenland soil, he'd be stationed there indefinitely, likely to never return to Boston.
After 10 minutes of sailing, the Pirate's Bane approached a dock filled with various vessels. Past the dock, many buildings lined the coast, some wooden, most stone and brick. This was Greenland's largest port, New Haven, named after its counterpart in New England. Caesar watched as the crew prepared to dock. After 5 minutes of directionless drifting, the Pirate's Bane pulled into the dock and lowered its anchor. Once the boat was secure, the crew lowered the gangplank, allowing exit from the ship.
Caesar took a deep breath. The solid ground would be his fate's final seal. He hesitated and contemplated jumping off the ship and attempting to swim back to Boston. He felt a hand come onto his shoulder. Caesar turned around to see Captain Flinn standing behind him.
"Don't worry, kid, you'll get used to the cold weather after a while."
Flinn patted Caesar on the back twice before walking down the gangplank himself. Caesar head down, followed suit, descending off the Pirate's Bane. As Caesar stepped onto the pier, he noticed a line of soldiers awaiting his arrival. They stood at attention in furry green uniforms, holding rifles, and wearing helmets with steel visors. Caesar counted six soldiers total one of whom stepped forward and saluted him before removing his helmet, revealing a man with dark brown skin, a small black afro and a handsome clean-shaven face.
"Welcome to Greenland Corporal Parna, I am Lieutenant Sanaida, I've been instructed to escort you and your companion to Fort Paradise."
Right, Lars also got transferred here poor guy .
Caesar saluted back, "Understood."
The pair waited on the dock until they sighted Lars coming down the gangplank carrying a large chest. He was a pale middle-aged man with short black hair, dark eyes and a gray beard. Like Caesar, he was dressed in a buttoned green military uniform and had a rifle slung over his shoulder. The two didn't speak during the trip outside of basic introductions and mealtimes, as Lars rarely ever left his cabin.
From the limited conversations he had with the man Caesar learned that Lars was originally stationed in Nantucket fortress located on the approach to Boston, when Caesar asked him about the reason he was being transferred Lars responded vaguely saying he "pissed off the wrong guy." Caesar sensed that the truth was more complex, but chose not to push the matter. He sensed that Lars had his own baggage and troubles to deal with, so he let the man be.
Despite Lars's own apparent resignation about the matter, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. The ring on Lars's finger implied he had a family back home and probably kids. Caesar wondered if Lars would ever see them again. As much as he internally whined about his transfer to Greenland, he wouldn't be stationed there eternally, eventually after 5 to 20 years, he could request a transfer to some place warmer. He was still young and had options. Lars, on the other hand, looked to be approaching 50 and could spend the rest of his life stuck on the island. To transfer someone so close to retirement by itself was cruel enough as it forced an extension of service, but a transfer like this to Greenland was tantamount to torture.
As Lars made his way to the dock, Lieutenant Sanaida and the six soldiers nearby saluted Lars, who briefly dropped the chest in his arms to return the gesture. As it hit the ground, it made a metallic clinking noise. Lieutenant Sanaida said, "Welcome Lars Salemanson, we have been awaiting you." Lars grunted in response. Sanaida gestured for the soldiers nearby to pick up the chest, but Lars picked it up himself before they could reach it, saying, "Thank you, but I'd rather carry it myself." Lieutenant Sanaida shrugged and said, "Please follow me to Fort Paradise; Captain Siku Brown wishes to greet you personally."
The trio left the dock, entering the town of New Haven. As he walked, Caesar surveyed the town, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of his new home. Buildings made from stone, bricks and wood lined the streets. The various store fronts and signs were all written in Yankish advertising food, clothing, alcohol, and other goods.
Aside from the streets, which seemed to just be local permafrost pathways connecting the buildings, creating a weblike road network, New Haven resembled any small New England town during winter. Despite the sun being high in the air, aside from the occasional passerby, New Haven's streets seemed devoid of life.
Caesar asked, "Why's it so empty?"
Lieutenant Sanaida replied frankly, "Most people sleep at night, Corporal Parna."
Caesar blushed and spent the rest of the journey walking silently under the light gaze of the eternal blazing sun.
***
In the scorching's aftermath, Kevin wandered aimlessly through the streets of Myami unsure of what to do now after witnessing such a gruesome and unsettling spectacle.
"Hallowed elder, you, the light of the past, shall soon shine above the whole world"
The oracle's words kept echoing through Kevin's mind, haunting him as he tried to make sense of the ordeal. He soon reached the obvious conclusion. While the other parts of her tirade were intended for the Chief Magistrate and the crowd, her words in English were targeted specifically for him. Even if there was someone else in the crowd that spoke the language, he was the only one who had it as a first language.
"Bringing hope and despair in equal measure. Your journey will shake the foundation of everything. Prepare yourself!"
The oracle's words implied of a journey waiting for Kevin in the future, one that would allegedly be dramatic and impactful. Kevin didn't know how to respond to these ominous predictions. It was hard for him to tell whether he should take the oracle's words seriously or dismiss them as ramblings of a madwoman.
They wouldn't have just killed her like that for no reason, would they?
The Oracle's execution had been very public and violent, suggesting that the authorities viewed her with intense suspicion and hostility. Kevin's deficient understanding of Yankish prevented him from completely understanding Deadbrown's speech. He only knew that the oracle even was an oracle because the word in Yankish was extremely similar to its counterpart in English.
Assuming the oracle was indeed an oracle, Kevin wasn't sure if her words be taken at face value. In the past, the logical answer would've been to assume that her execution was just a modern version of a 17th century witch burning and dismiss the whole affair as the product of ignorance and superstition. However, after bearing witness to three separate supernatural occurrences, Kevin couldn't simply dismiss her ravings so easily now.
What could it mean if it's all true?
What journey possibly awaited him in the future, and why would it shake the foundations of everything? For more information, he would likely have to find Carlos in the future and try to squeeze out a translation of what both Deadbrown and the oracle's words.
As grey clouds gathered in the sky, Kevin's unguided wandering was interrupted by the body of someone who hadn't moved out of the way. Adjusting himself in the aftermath, Kevin gazed upon the person he crashed into, a woman with deep ebony skin, a thin frame and a large untamed afro.
Kevin said "Sorry ma'am....."
As he rubbed his nose, he saw the woman's eyes, which were devoid of irises, staring back at him blankly.