Ten Years of Silence Before the Storm
The war has finally arrived, and Setreed is besieged. Messo manages to escape just before the city gates close for the last time. After months of travel, Messo and his group finally arrive at Carimpluni. Here, in the shadow of the mountains and the spray of the hidden bay, the refugees begin the impossible task of building a future from timber and hope.
When his group finally arrived, they found a beautiful bay whose distant mouth was hidden by overlapping hills. Catenum had a fully operational shipyard on the far side, and twenty ships, some clearly new, floated in the placid water. Lush hills surrounded the bay, with fruit trees clustered in groves on several slopes. The main settlement was expanding, with temporary cottages rising everywhere.
“Welcome to Carimpluni,” Catenum said. “I take it Setreed has finally fallen?”
“Not yet. Telimicas arrived just as we departed,” Messo said, his voice heavy. “We barely escaped. How many refugees have reached you?”
“At last count, we have about ten thousand souls.”
“What is next?” Messo asked after his group had settled.
“We must build ships quickly,” Catenum replied. “Telimicas will eventually find this base, so we must be ready to flee.”
“To where?” Messo asked.
Catenum gave a weary shrug.
“Wherever the seas may take us.”
The two men then stood before a gathering of refugees and pirates.
Messo called loudly. “We are in a crisis unlike any Orudara has seen. A war rages only weeks of travel from here. This base offers temporary refuge, but we are not safe. The war will reach us.”
Catenum stepped forward. “We have only twenty ships ready for a long voyage. They would hold barely one in five of you. We must build more so we can save as many as possible.”
“And why would we ever want to leave?” a man shouted. “We have everything we need here.”
Several nodded in agreement.
“This war will find us,” Messo said. “And when it does, every man, woman, and child will be fighting to the death. There will be no survivors.”
“You want to force us to work?” another yelled. “That was not in the invitation. I am done being coerced to work again.”
More voices rose in anger.
“No one will be forced to work,” Messo said. “But those who do not work for the common good will have no share in the safety it provides.”
Despite the mixed reception, workers flocked to the shipyard. Skilled laborers adapted their trades. Unskilled workers hauled timber and carried supplies. Soon the shipyard bustled with life. The air rang with hammers and the sharp resin scent of fresh-cut pine and hot pitch. They completed five ships in the first year.
Catenum’s spies brought grim updates. The outer walls of Setreed had fallen within the first month. By the sixth, defenders were fighting within the last two. Smoke from pyres hung over the fields, producing a bitter haze that clung to the lungs. Reports from other cities were no better.
Some in Carimpluni believed these warnings and pushed harder. Others called them exaggerations and slipped into the night, never seen again.
“Good morning,” a young woman said approaching Messo. “My name is Holiana. I understand you need help gathering and organizing provisions.”
Her face was scarred from smallpox, yet Messo felt unexpectedly drawn to her. Her calm, steady voice quieted the clamor inside him.
“Good morning,” Messo replied somewhat abruptly. “Please see the quartermaster for instructions.”
She walked away. She glanced back once, and he dropped his gaze in embarrassment.
Years passed, and Holiana crossed his path often. Despite his difficulties, she always brought him quiet hope.
“People are basically good,” she would say. “Give them purpose and direction. Trust them to do their part.”
One morning, a newly launched ship listed sharply. Workers pulled it back into dry dock and discovered it had been deliberately sabotaged.
“I don’t know why I bother,” Messo told her. “I believe you when you say most people are good, but what kind of person would sabotage the opportunity for a hundred refugees to leave?”
“I don’t know,” Holiana responded, discouragement showing in her slumped shoulders. “Catenum says we can fix the ship, and he has increased security. It won’t happen again.”
Messo rubbed the heel of his hand over his brow, trying to quiet the angry pulse still thudding there.
Holiana watched him.
“You care more than you want people to notice,” she said softly. “That’s why it hurts you so much when someone chooses the worst version of themselves.”
Messo looked away, unsettled. The scent of fresh-cut pine drifted between them, stinging his nose and mirroring the raw scrape in his chest.
“But you’re right,” Holiana continued gently. “Most people are trying. The sabotage came from fear, not malice.”
Messo exhaled slowly, tension bleeding from his shoulders. Her steadiness, even shaken, anchored him.
More years passed. Holiana anchored the refugees in optimism. More importantly, she steadied Messo in the quiet hours when exhaustion hollowed him out. He was particularly discouraged by the ninth-year census. Despite families growing, the village’s population was down to eight thousand.
“Holiana,” Messo whispered one morning.
“Why are you whispering?”
“We’ve been friends for years,” Messo said. “I should have said this long ago.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry I haven’t made time for formal courtship. There are so many people, and so much to do.”
He exhaled, dropping to one knee.
“Will you marry me?” he asked, grasping her hands.
“What took you so long?” Holiana asked, kneeling with him and letting her forehead rest against his. “Of course I will.”
The tenth year was ending. Time was running out. Seventy ships now floated in the bay.
Messo’s respect for Catenum grew each year. His own capacity to care for every individual had become something Catenum admired. Over time, their mutual respect deepened into partnership. Messo was no longer an inexperienced young man, and Catenum no longer a predatory pirate.
It had been six months since any of Catenum’s spies had returned. The last reports were grim. Setreed had fallen years ago. Every other Orudaran city had collapsed in turn. Only scattered villages remained untouched. Telimicas’s forces, now reduced to a few thousand, were hunting them.
Telimicas had learned of Carimpluni. His army was coming.
“The time has come,” Catenum announced to the assembled villagers. “We must halt production and provision the ships we have. Telimicas is coming swiftly. He could be here in a week or a month, but when he comes, it will be with the goal of utter annihilation.”
Which record will you examine next?
