DRAGONS OF THE CHIME - 2 - Itsuki of the City Militia (by Steve Gearhart)

("DRAGONS OF THE CHIME" is based on the world building exercise that was done at On-Con 2020, hosted by Geek Archaeology, panel by Brent P. Newhall, world created by attendees. The stories in "DRAGONS OF THE CHIME" are written by Steve Gearhart, me, unless noted otherwise. Please enjoy! - Steve) 

The harbor was placid. Almost no discernible movement. The water still dark, but starting to take on a sparkling brilliance as the sun rose. The city was just quiet enough to hear the gentle waves lapping at the stone sides of the canal. The gulls were just waking up.

At the inner harbor, the markets on one side extended far over the water. A network of piers and buildings of various sizes and designs. No more than three feet above the tranquil water, they were sitting on solid and ornate pilings, whose designs went into the water below.

The stately buildings hid large rooms of expensive décor of stone and coral, with enormous, lacquered tables where items were presented with suggested prices. The closed doors would eventually slide open to the air, allowing the customers to walk in to appraise the goods within.

These rooms were being attended to by women in smocks who would then disappear until nightfall. Then they would return from their nearby homes to come back to clean and to stand watch overnight. At this point in the morning, they still had an hour before they would slide open the large doors and slip away as the salesmen sang their welcoming songs to potential customers.

And in every single building that sat on these piers and pilings, there was an opening with marble stairs leading into the tranquil water below. The last thing the women would do before sliding open the doors would be to kneel before the water entrance, and press down with both hands, a wooden tile to the right that had the image of a conch shell engraved on it.

Once depressed, there would be a click. The water would ripple for a moment and depending on how far down the gate was, the women might hear the gate slide back and end with a bang; now open. At night, on the left side of the entrance, they would turn the crank until it stopped, which denoted the underwater gate's closure and locking.

Outside, the piers went back to shore. The buildings became somewhat smaller, somewhat less fancy as they got closer to the shore. The ones furthest out into the harbor sold art, rare items of wonder from a past age, examples of rare fish and kelp and the rare unfinished stones from the deep ocean and sometimes even metal.

The buildings closer to land dealt with spices, fruits, vegetables and lumber. Also included were the machines of springs and gears. Examples of industrial-sized equipments to simple trinkets. They were still impressive stores, just smaller as many of the items were things the merfolk often did not need.

All during the morning, there would be customers looking over the merchandise, whatever it may be. And if a sale were to be started, the customers would indicate a starting price on piece of paper and given to the salesman. He then placed the bid into a container. The container was then given to the merchants who owned the buildings.

They would then place it into a tube, press a button and a powerful spring would launch the offer through the tube, that ran along the bottom of the harbor to a corresponding building on the other side. At that point, the representatives of both the sellers and buyers haggled and would send back the final price for confirmation.

The commerce made the harbor area of the city refined and orderly. No one wanted business to be interrupted. No one wanted violence here. No one wanted a disturbance. It was quite frankly the safest place in the island city. Commerce was good for all, so why disturb it?

The trade between the men and women of the city and the merfolk was often prosperous. Centuries ago, the merfolk came to the people of the islands in good faith. They made offers of help and badly needed materials for things that only those who lived above water could supply to them. The relationship was mutual and satisfying.

The merfolk would come up the stairs to trade, using a rod to tap to announce their arrival. Then, like the other customers, would peruse the items on display after setting up their own goods on tables reserved for them, close to the stairs. The merfolk could walk on land, but only for so long.

Violent crime here was almost unheard of here. Sometimes, there would be pricing scandals, but such crimes rarely needed brute force as a solution. However, appearances of stability were needed. Even if they were small examples.

There were only two militia police stations in the inner harbor of the city. One on each side of the harbor. It was the best, most relaxed and safest duty. Each station had only ten men, and they had private rooms not a barracks. They got the best food and equipment.

If a member of the militia police were to be stationed here for any length of time, it was because they were about to retire after a lifetime of good service or as a reward for being a hero. One was only posted here for a job well done.

Or, as Itsuki mused, one was posted here as a final mercy before dismissal.

Itsuki was leaning on the railing of the Kuula Bridge. The first bridge to cross the canal right as it met the harbor waters. Like all of the canal bridges, the Kuula was tall enough for ships to pass under. But unlike the other bridges, the Kuula Bridge was made of stone.

Itsuki looked down and watched the waters of the canal and the harbor swirl where they met just before the bridge. He had read the news yesterday on the community bulletin board outside the main precinct house. The crowd had parted and looked away as he left the board after reading the news.

He was disgraced.

Then the posting came this morning. No mention of what had happened. His superior simply nodded and left Itsuki to gather his gear to transfer to Station One, on the customer side of the inner harbor. While many would consider this a well-earned post, he knew he was being held in a fancy prison until the militia decided what to do with him.

Itsuki believed they did not consider him as a traitor. He became a hero at a very young age, just two years after arriving here to be married.

It was an arranged marriage. He was thirteen when he came down from the sky to be a husband to the daughter of a militia officer. He was fifteen when he became a hero of the city.

He wasn't even supposed to enter to the militia. His wife's father had wanted him as a son-in-law due to his ability to shape wood and give it the permanence of ironwood. The father had wanted his family to become richer in the lumber trade and to get away from generations of militia service.

Then two years after being married, all males strong enough to hold weapons were drafted into a fight with pirates. It turned out that Itsuki was good in a fight and he developed a deep bond with the merfolk soldiers. Then he did one heroic thing and his father-in-law was forever denied a rich, family legacy and forced to keep Itsuki on in the militia.

But now, that looked to change. Itsuki sighed, pushed away from the railing. He turned to walk to his new posting. He wondered what would happen next. His wood-working magic was strong, but he was never properly trained. He was married off too young. There was no time to learn anything but to be a good soldier and to police the city.

He knew that the worst thing that would happen to him now would be dismissal. Everyone knew he came from the sky islands. That right now, the sky islands were starting to buck their traditional role as subservient to the sea island masters. But no one held any fault to him for that.

However, the unthinkable happened. And he had a direct, familial link to it...and that meant he may not be trusted to be in the militia anymore. A job he was good at. Far better than his ability to work wood. If he was dismissed, he would be jobless.

And not only would he lose his rank and station, but his wife as well. Honor would demand that he leave his marriage behind so that his wife and her family would not be tainted by his disgrace.

Itsuki looked inland at the mountains. He looked to the highest peak and found the tether. He followed the tether all the way up to the large sky island above. So much larger than the island he had come from. He shook his head.

He was Itsuki Tenchi, a surviving member of the Ryuzo clan from Yasahi Kaze. Great-grand-nephew of the sky island's last chieftain, Musui. Ordinarily, this lineage was somewhat impressive.

But Musui had sent letters out to many of the leaders of different sea islands and denounced the sea islanders and their greed. Blamed them for the decline of the clans of Yasahi Kaze, the destruction of the beloved keijo forest and damned them for the death of his wife. And then he committed blasphemy by stating that he would try to invoke a dragon.

Itsuki's eyes cast downwards. This was a Musui he did not remember. The Musui he remembered was kind, smiling and his great-aunt a lovely woman. Itsuki did not know this Musui. If it had just been the letters, then Itsuki would not be mistrusted. But Musui did more than write provocative letters.

Musui cut the tether to Nagashino, the sea island Yasahi Kaze was to serve. He and the island floated upwards, into the clouds...taking away resources from those below. All in an effort to invoke a dragon to help him in what could only be assumed as revenge.

Itsuki was not only part of the Ryuzo clan, but a blood relation of Musui. He knew he would be dismissed. Musui had disgraced him. It was just a matter of time before the order came.

He lifted his head. In the meantime, before he would be judged, he still had his job. He still had a wife to take care of. He could still protect and do what he did best. And at least his last few days on the job would be at an easy post.

In fifteen minutes, he would report to his last duty post at Station One. And by mid-day, during his first patrol of the piers, he would learn that his last posting was not going to be peaceful, easy or enjoyable.