Storm Over Tranquil Waters

My mission is in a dire state. It is in a position such as this when I long for my sister’s advice now more than ever; I must find a way to contact my family as soon as possible. The way forward is no longer as clear as it was.
 
But first—an explanation.
 
We crept back to the inn in Yokozu, only to find it empty, abandoned in a hurry. I find myself thankful for Nobler’s nose and Orlando’s keen wit; the two of them traced the tracks of this revived Gaku back to the docks. By the time we arrived, he had already taken off—he was sailing off into the distance some ways away, rowing our longboat with strange, stiff, strokes.
 
I attempted to grapple him with my exoskeleton, to no avail—I must continue to develop my capabilities with this wondrous technology. Before despair could threaten my heart for a moment, though, Nobler took careful aim and obliterated the head of this serpent. Triumph!
 
…Or so we thought. But indeed, this monstrosity simply kept rowing, regardless of the mangling Nobler had dealt it with his shot. We gave pursuit, commandeering a boat a villager had no current need of.
 
The fiend kept a swift pace, even headless, and it was a pace undeterred by the many mortal wounds Nobler peppered it with over the course of a few minutes. Our own boat was heavy with the weight of ourselves and this strange dwarven woman, and our pace lagged. It was then I realized we needed to destroy the boat, not Gaku. I lit a pair of torches and set Baltos to work; it is truly a strategic marvel, having a flying, quasivisible imp at one’s disposal. Even having set flame to the longboat, however, Gaku’s corpse continued to row, undeterred, and we had the grim realization of the presence of Nema, unconscious within the ship. What seemed an advantage turned to a dire threat within moments.
 
Thankfully, though, Nobler proved relentless in his aim, another volley devastating the ship’s hull. Gaku’s still-churning remains toppled into the sea, Nema in tow. Nobler and I wasted no time—we jumped in after them.
 
Some foul force yet beyond my comprehension propelled this emaciated mess through the water, woman in tow, at speeds which seemed to me simply absurd beyond my imagining. This freak became a fish in the water, and it proved slippery in its pursuit. Even harried and torn asunder by the agents of the Protector Spirit, it persisted, persisted unto the open waters. Eventually, though—after we had harpooned it multiple times and it had almost pulled Orlando into the water with it—Nobler crippled the monster, we pulled his love loose, and I fried the thing with my breath.
 
It seemed a grim reminder of the might of the world’s more fell spirits. Evil beings exist in this world, beings beyond light or dark with no deference to harmony or balance. Beings which would echo even through the body of a corpse to wreak mayhem. But there was no time to reflect; Nema wasn’t breathing.
 
It was with the aid of Nobler’s breath that I purged the seawater from her lungs. Strange, how even without lightning lapping at his teeth, his breath may serve to save a life instead of take it. It’s in these odd moments where I find life’s mysteries to be most amusing. That said, saving Nema was a close feat; we very nearly may have lost the poor woman. I left her to Nobler to tend to after that. I was trained to heal the body, not the mind. We’ve put her through much, without much say of her own. I tell myself it is in the interest of her own safety, but frankly… she’d likely be safer on a dinghy in the open ocean with broken oars than with us.
 
We returned to the vicinity of Yokozu. Even after all we had encountered, it was Orlando’s desire to return in a brazen swath of glory directly to the town. I cannot claim to understand his reasoning—I was struck, rather, by what seemed to be two manifestations of Orlando. There was the charming swindler and charlatan which I had often known him by, as I had met him, but now I was faced with a strangely altruistic young man who said he wished to see our commandeered boat returned to the people and the Yokozans comforted by tales of our excellence. It bears remembering: one does not require training as a Blade to possess a Sun and a Moon within their heart.
 
And Nobler! Nobler had that fire in his heart again as he spoke of the wrongs done to his “family.” It bewilders me still how he refers to people who caged and abused him as “family,” but perhaps it is simply a concept in human terms beyond my reckoning.
 
Ah, humans. Though I understand neither of my companions may entirely be called such, they maintain the same bizarre quirks of the species which I myself simply do not understand. They argued about our next course of action as if it were a problem which lay between us instead of ahead of us. Had I a draconian team, a simple dispassionate tactical assessment would have sufficed.
 
This debate was more fiercely fought by my companions than it was by myself. I was struck by the passion by which they approached it, taken aback. We had experienced misunderstandings due to confusion and doubt before, but there was a heat here which concerned me. I knew not what to say, only that I did not desire it to continue. I offered to slip back into town to pay for the boat and obtain rations, and left quietly. Orlando accompanied me, taking the boat with him. Still so many mysteries to unravel about this man.
 
Yokozu was quiet, it turned out. I was relieved to see no pirates to be found within, and was greeted at the shrine by the same shrinekeeper who spoke to me earlier. She confirmed my earnest hope: harmony had been restored, and deference for their valiant protector spirit would be maintained. I joined her a moment in prayer, in peace. I felt a renewal I had not felt in what seemed like many days.
 
As I returned my spirit to the physical realm, I noticed a shape upon the water, washed ashore by the foam. Despite its odd appearance, I could not mistake its purpose: magitech. A plate for the exoskeleton I now wear. Still, I could not yet discern its specific purpose, and some discovery was beginning to surface in my mind—I stowed the mysterious artifact for the time being, and went to see what sort of hijinks Orlando had initiated.
 
We had a buyer—Sneer, I believed was his name? An ironic title, considering he had not enough teeth to make such an expression convincing. Still, he had a small sailboat, and we had gold. Orlando regaled him with tales of my encounter with the Protector Spirit, and we made off with the vessel.
 
I felt strange about my relationship with the spirits being leveraged as a bargaining chip. Valuable a move it was, certainly, considering the old man’s piety, but… I felt reluctant to buy into the ploy. Such a thing is not a token to be proven. It is a strength to be held within, and perhaps a doctrine to share. Orland managed the talking just fine. We loaded the rations he’d obtained onto the ship—strange, as they seemed more than might be readily available for sale anywhere in such a small town—picked up our companions, and set off… back to goddamned Del’Orta.
 
The seas were calm on our journey back, but grim ships were poised on the horizon—Imperium ships. And they were surrounding the very waters where we knew Del’Orta to be, some form of blockade. Nobler looked upon them with a sense of solemn familiarity; as it turned out, he told us, he had grown up in the Imperium, been raised with an unfortunate familiarity with their ways. There would be no bargaining our way past their blockade, and no monstrosity of theirs apt for us to confront.
 
We took the long way around. The coastline was marked by abandoned shacks and a whale slain by some unknown illness, one we had no desire to get close to. The waters themselves, it seems, are choked with poison. Still, it was four days of rest, with gentle waters and enough food to go around. I meditated as we went, musing upon the week’s events and the road ahead. A realization was near at hand for me—I had for many days now been reconciling the apparent need for my armor to protect me, even as it hindered my ability to go discreetly. Every time I have donned my shozoku, I have felt an acute sense of vulnerability, a sensation which creeps into my mind every time I must make decisive action. My hesitance to engage Akl-Go, my shock at having been caught off-guard by Gaku, my captivity by the pirates—in each, I was hindered either by the ostentatious presence of my plates, or the vulnerability I felt at a lack thereof. In each scenario, it is my attachment to these physical concerns which prevents me from acting decisively. The key to freeing myself from this attachment… it was close at hand.
 
In the meantime, the Pirate’s Den greeted us with casual violence and general unrest. Something was in the air with the Imperium, and the De’Ortans knew it, too.
 
We decided to split up. Nobler would work with Nema in an attempt to rouse our unconscious dwarven charge, while Orlando would pursue his own leads—something about finding his father?
 
I had a contact to meet.
 
Approaching the house of the Flying Flynns, I was greeted by a pirate who knew me by name, a scoundrel I had never met before. Mai Lin, apparently, had been talking, which did not bode well at all.
 
Still, the leader of the Flynns agreed to meet me regarding my captive friend. The head honcho was a formidable-looking man named Armitage—it was easy enough to see at a glance that he had not won his position through kindness or trust. I offered information in exchange for communication with Mai Lin; I could, after all, tell them about the encroaching force of the Imperium, or how the Maycomb crew was consorting with demons, or how the Red Devils had been overcome entirely and their holds were ripe for the taking.
 
But Armitage had nothing to offer in return, nothing except for a single fact which shook me to my core: Mai Lin was dead. Executed for spying, only after having been tortured for information about me and the knowledge I sought. Knowledge that the Flying Flynns now possessed as documents in their very hideout.
 
I could not discern any lies. Armitage spoke evenly, beyond my capabilities to parse away. Beyond that, he even offered me comfortable rooms at a local inn—ridiculous, a mockery. A safe haven, perhaps, but only another way they might keep tabs on my friends and I. There were, he claimed, two ways I might discover what secrets the documents contained: stay for the approaching confrontation with the Imperium, or persuade the Draconian Imperial Republic to recognize Del’Orta as an independent state.
 
The latter was impossible, though not worth asking my superiors about. I must find a way to contact them as soon as possible—too much has transpired to not. The former, though, was much more foreboding in its possibility. What lay upon these documents the likes of which Armitage thinks he could turn aside the Ember Imperium with?? The gravity of this turn truly shook me, and rocked me with dismay. If only I had attempted to free Mai Lin sooner. If only I had acted more swiftly, more boldly. If only I had been more decisive. I feel a burning desire in my chest to seek the help of my mentors, and yet I fear reprisal at the thought of delivering such grave news. It would not speak well for my house’s reputation to have my sister still recovering and me having lost substantial ground in my assignment.
 
My sister… I must contact Hikari. The more secure the missive, the better.
 
I need your guidance now more than ever.
 
I left Armitage with words which felt hollow, and returned to the square to see my hopes hanging from a noose.
 
When I was briefed on my assignment, I had been told Mai Lin was a dragonborn with a distinctive scar over his right eye—but now a bag was thrown over this corpse’s head, with orders not to examine it. Was Armitage attempting to deceive me? Was Mai Lin still alive, battered in the Flynns’ brig, still overflowing with secrets? My hopes hung by a thread. But seeing him hanging there, the realization which had been growing within me finally bloomed:
 
I live in a world or gods and spirits, where a needle may prick as sharply as a sword and word can kill just as surely. In this world, it is not my armor that will protect me; I will protect me. The only being in this world who carries the last word in my sanctity is myself, and as long as I have my kesh’tam and my rash’tam, my fang and my claw, my sun and my moon, I have all I need. No shield. No shell.
 
I am a Blade.
 
May the Great Spirits watch me through the gleam of my sword, guard me in the plates of my armor, guide me in the words of the strangers I've yet to make familiar, and bless me in the light of sun and moon. May they walk in the stride of those I walk amongst, and touch the world through the hands of my companions. May their deeds echo in my actions and their will echo in my wishes. I am but a transient pilgrim walking the tracks of this past and future world, my blood the blood of my lord and my father and my people.