Ten Years of Silence Before the Storm
The war has finally arrived, and the armies of Telimicus lay siege on Setreed. 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.
Messo’s group finally arrived months later. 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. I hope you like what you see,” 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 organize. Building ships needs to be a priority,” 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.”
“That’s a very pirate response,” Messo said.
“What else can you expect?”
“We need to inform the community,” Messo said. “They have to know what the plan of action is.”
The two men then stood before a gathering of the Carimpluni community.
Messo called loudly. “We are in a crisis unlike any Orudara has ever seen. A war rages only weeks of travel from here. This base offers temporary refuge, but we are not safe. Telimicas will find us. The war will reach us. If we aren’t prepared to flee, we will die.”
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.
“You have everything you need except security,” Messo said. “We have all the raw materials here to prepare for flight if you contribute your labor.”
“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. And those who don’t work for the common good are welcome to stay, but they won’t share the benefits of the common effort.”
Despite the mixed reception, workers flocked to the fields, vineyards, and shipyard. Everyone found their place.
The shipyard was the hub of all activity. Skilled laborers adapted their trades. Unskilled workers hauled timber and carried supplies. Soon the community 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 regularly brought updates. The news was grim. The outer walls of Setreed had fallen within the first month of the siege. By the sixth month, its 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 who believed these warnings and worked harder. Others began to shut down, believing the cause was hopeless. Those who called the warnings exaggerations and slipped into the night, never seen again.
Just when Messo fell into a desperate routine, something happened. It wasn’t earthshaking, but it was trajectory altering. A smiling young woman approached him one day.
“Good morning,” she said. “My name is Holiana. I understand you need help gathering and organizing provisions.”
She was not at all tall. Her clothes spoke of privilege–a background in wealth. The smallpox scars on her face spoke to the fact that her privilege had not spared her every hardship. Despite their obvious differences in background, Messo felt unexpectedly drawn to her. Her calm, steady voice quieted the clamor inside him.
“Good morning,” Messo replied more gruffly than he had intended. “Please see the quartermaster for instructions.”
She turned, surprised by the response, and walked away. He gazed after her apologetically. She glanced back once, and he dropped his gaze in embarrassment.
Years passed, and Holiana crossed his path often. At first, he thought it a chance nuisance. As time went on, however, he began to look forward to those meetings. No matter what difficulties he was facing, 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 drydock 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. “I don’t think that’s the right question to ask. Instead, why don’t we move forward better prepared? 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.
“It’s not that you don’t believe the best of people. 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. I know. I ran away from my family because they feared to leave their accustomed lifestyle in the face of evident danger.”
Messo exhaled slowly, tension bleeding from his shoulders. Her steadiness, even shaken, anchored him, helping him find strength to move forward.
More years passed. Holiana steadied Messo in the quiet hours when exhaustion hollowed him out. Holiana’s efforts didn’t just anchor Messo. She brought hope and optimism to all the refugees.
Messo was particularly discouraged by the ninth-year census. Despite families growing, the village’s population had dwindled to eight thousand.
It was time for him to do his part.
“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.”
Catenum married them. The ceremony was simple and private. Neither Messo nor Catenum wanted a spectacle to distract from Carimpluni’s mission.
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.
The tenth year was ending. 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. Time was running out. Telimicas was approaching. Seventy ships now floated in the bay.
“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?
