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It’s hard to interact with people who do things he hates, say things he hates, and are surrounded by an empire built up on hate and the robbery of other’s lives — because he still does not hate them, no matter how much he tries. It’s terrible. Because that’s what they should deserve. They deserve to feel resented, to know what it is like to lose everything you have. Or maybe they don’t, and nobody deserves suffering, which renders his own useless. In the full scope of things, Vis has just been incredibly unlucky. Fantastically, undeniably unlucky.
Thinking about Suus makes him want to throw up, and even then, the others assume he’s just seasick like Belli is. At this moment, she’s in her seat, a little bent over, her red hair hanging over her face. Her hand is over her mouth, and she looks green. She winces at the sound of the waves sloshing against the ship. It is a painful, pathetic sight.
Seasick! Like Belli Volenis from Class Three! What a laugh, that would be! Vis would be dead before he’d ever felt seasick the way a citizen of Caten would be. This place was his home. This place was his.
( Was. But that doesn’t change anything, despite it changing everything to ever exist to him. )
Emissa slides up next to him, flashing him a chagrined smile. Or like she’s pitying him, which is infinitely worse. “You look terrible.”
Vis is not in the mood for light-hearted banter. “I know.”
She had checked up on him just earlier. It’s more of a repeat of their previous conversation than anything. Emissa had asked him if he was alright, and he had said ‘he didn’t do well on water’. It made him want to dig his fingernails inside his palm, but he had managed to pass it off like he meant it. He had messed up, actually, when Belli had questioned his false backstory with the Edaro River. Still, it proves that he’s slowly losing his edge. Or his mind.
“I’m not the best with water, either,” Emissa says, after a moment of silence.
“Ah,” he eventually chokes out. “It takes one to know one.” He masks his disgust with a weak cough.
Emissa nods, patting him on the back. She means well, probably, but he can’t help but feel restless. The way the Thirds try to treat him like an old friend is strange. He feels glad for Emissa’s presence, but it is odd all the same. Being in classes below Class Three means having to avoid people that mess with rankings, to climb higher up the classes. But the Thirds are free to do anything, it seems. Or at least, from an outer point of view.
Emissa’s hand lingers on his back, but when he doesn’t react — not like he might’ve on a usual day, she takes it back. “You’ll get used to it. I know you can.” She’s smiling again, and uses her fist to playfully bump at his shoulder. “Indol wasn’t, at first, you know. No Transvect, and all. And in warmer seasons it’s hard to stop sweating. But it’s a nice place, Suus.” Her lips playfully quirk up. "Or so Indol says."
Vis does not respond.
Indol, who is sitting opposite of him, grins at Emissa, and then at Vis. Indol looks aggravatingly put-together. The most calm out of all of them. It’s awful, really. His perceived indifference is the most painful to witness. It’s as if he’s accustomed to this place, as if he has any right to be. “My Father’s considering having some type of Transvect system put in Suus soon, so we’d be able to visit the estate without any unimportant inconveniences. One day, we can all come here without…” Indol glances at Belli, whose hand is now clasped over her eyes, as if seeing the ship move is the root of her queasiness, “...well. Having to clean up afterwards.”
Belli retches. “That would be the day.”
“One day,” Emissa cheers. Vis can feel her gaze from his peripheral vision.
Vis expects their heads to turn to him, for them to expect him to add anything significant to the discussion, but they carry on to the next topic. Of course, he should have expected this. He is still not close with them, but just enough so that they can probe at his opinions on the ‘usually lovely, really, albeit humid weather’.
It happens again, and again, throughout the ride. They acknowledge him somewhat, but there is a gap. It is common knowledge there is a great divide between every class at the Academy. There always has been, but the Thirds are free to act like they don’t ever notice. These Thirds can allow Vis into summer home vacations with senator fathers, but draw the line at meaningful conversations about better things, and other places than here. They dance around addressing their republic but are completely enthusiastic about asking about his traumatic experience within the Naumachia. It’s so obnoxiously Hierarchy of them. But they can be so human that Vis finds it hard to resent them the way he would with the idea of them.
The crook of Emissa’s elbow is bumped on his shoulder. “You look incredibly bored.”
“Only nervous. It’s not everyday a Fourth is invited to a trip with Thirds.” He wonders how many times he can insist on this excuse before it becomes hard to believe.
She laughs. “Calm yourself, Vis. We all know each other here.” She glances away, her gaze on the seawater for a moment. The tide is crystal clear as they near the land. So similar to before, and yet so entirely different. Emissa turns back. “And anyways, none of us besides Indol have been to Suus before. And we’re all not really used to this place. Not even him.”
“Naturally.”
They lapse into useless small talk, with Vis mostly doing his part in curt answers.
( Vis is going to kill Relucia. Well, of course, he’s not. He couldn’t. But he yells it inside his own mind as the boat nears the very shores he walked upon. He’s going to kill her. It does little to console him. How could she even consider setting this task upon him? Vis knows she lacks empathy, but is a little humanity too childish to ask for? )
And, now that he really lets his mind stir upon the matter, it wasn’t like he was able to kill a little Alupi pup back when he was hungry, let alone Estevan when he was being a mass murderer, let alone Relucia , even after all her wrongdoings. The memory of his father’s advisor hits him like a looming Transvect, and his breathing quickens.
Estevan, now known as Melior . A man Vis’ family had put their entire trust on had murdered thousands of civilians, innocent or not. Those very civilians had, in more than one way, contributed to the murder of his own family. The Anguis, against them, had contributed to the murder of theirs. It’s a never-ending loop of terrible events and terrible people and Vis has no idea why the world deems it so necessary for the wheel to turn.
Whether his people will recognize Vis — or rather, Diago — is up to fate.
His stomach stirs. Is it true what Relucia had said? That he has grown so fast, and become so unrecognizable that she would not register him returning to be a risk? Vis restrains himself from tapping his foot, or gripping his own hands too tightly, and tells himself to breathe slowly. He can’t risk giving something away, some hint of fear that goes beyond a school holiday excursion.
If Emissa begins to notice his internal spiral, she does not comment any further.
Tribal. Unadvanced. Inerudite. Unaccomplished. Quaint. Rough. Primitive. These are few of the hundreds of words that the Thirds have said about Suus before the Catenan ‘improvements’. Vis’ tongue is sore from how much he had been biting it. Advantageous. Convenient. Opportune. Generous. Bloodless. These are words the Thirds had used to describe the invasion of his home.
Here are words Vis would use to describe Catenan Republic : Ignorant. Blind. Violent. Savage. He’s not naive enough to comically call them evil , but they are the closest thing to it.
The day has become so awful that even Emissa’s side comments are grating Vis’ nerves. That’s how bad it’s getting. Indol and Belli are nowhere better.
“I can’t believe how long this place has lasted, to have been without Will,” Belli muses, though the island does not seem to impress her all too much. She looks upon Suus as if it is any other place. For her, maybe, it is not worth so much.
Indol nods. “They didn’t even have heated baths. Can you imagine that?”
“Baths!”
“Father assumes they bathed in the sea or some other before we had our own baths installed. I don't think that's the case, but it's what most people are saying now.”
Belli gags again, this time without trying to hide it. Vis thinks it is truly a wonder he hadn’t lunged at her at some point during the trip.
Indol continues and the others listen, as if Indol Quiscil, son of Magnus Dimidius Quiscil, is a historian well-versed with the history of Suus. “Since they didn’t have Will-powered transport, or anything, really, they had to manually maneuver with these boats — usually for fishing. Not like our kind, though. Theirs were skinnier and weaker, without any shade above, and their boats could easily be knocked off balance if rocked with force. It’s parching during the summer here, but the people have become so used to the weather that they do not even burn themselves after spending hours under the sun.”
Belli walks near Indol as he talks, nodding along. Emissa watches them from behind, looking vaguely amused, before doing the same with Vis.
They walk on, and Indol points toward a row of houses. Not the unbearably modern ones that the Hierarchy had built. A few of the older ones, now worn with time. Some stand tall under wooden poles. Some are vaguely recognizable. “Those ones are made of wood and dried grass. They have a method, actually, to weave baskets and such together with the grass. Strong enough to hold water. Some have patterns, too. It's an art form, here in Suus.”
Belli holds her head high. “How did they clean them? Having old, dried grass to hold water doesn’t seem safe to me.”
Indol inches away from Belli, ever so slightly. Emissa snickers. Belli frowns. Indol coolly ignores both of them, and Vis notices Indol walking in front of the others more than alongside them, like earlier. “You can ask later. We have people working in the palace grounds who know Suus better than I do.”
Vis’ stomach drops. He begins to walk behind the others.
They’ve now formed an odd line, with Indol at the very front, Belli trying to catch up with him, Emissa behind her, and Vis at the very back.
Vis tries regulating his breathing.
Emissa notices, and attempts to walk with him again.
“The weather is so nice,” Emissa coos, tapping Vis’ shoulder so that he has to turn his head to look at her. She’s smiling wide. Her eyes are bright green under the daylight, like dazzling emeralds. She holds her arms up, as if trying to catch as much sunlight as she can. Like a plant. Like she’s sunbathing. Is he delirious already? Emissa’s voice brings him back. “I keep forgetting it’s even winter. It must be horrible to be in Solivagus at this time of the year. Too bad for the others.”
“Probably.” Vis tries to smile. Emissa is trying so hard for him. It’s the least he could do.
“Someone’s acting off.”
“It’s nothing. It’s just that Suus is near Aquiria. It reminds me of before.” This is as realistic as his lies can get.
Emissa taps her chin.“Don’t they share a dialect?”
“I think. Maybe.” Vis knows they do, and exactly how much. Aquiria and Suus don’t share a language fully, but mostly, and the dialects are similar enough that the languages feel like one, though with slight changes in accent and wording. But he can’t let Emissa know that he even knows facts about Suus in the first place. It wouldn’t add up with his backstory, and the several lies he had made on the ship earlier.
“You must be really hungry, if you can’t even reply to me normally.”
Vis’ stomach twinges. It’s too much, all of this. He’s thinking of everything again. His sisters. His mother. His father. “Knowing Indol, we’ll be having a big meal. A plentiful one. I look forward to it.” Vis forces himself to grin at Emissa. There’s no sparkle in either of their eyes, this time.
Dinner is a blur, and a slap in the face together.
Gone is the long, singular table in the centre of the dining hall, stretched out and reaching across the room, where his family had eaten together. Now it is replaced with several smaller tables, surrounded by three couches on each side, in the typical Catenan style. The walls are adorned in Catenan tapestries with the Catenan colors. Orange, white, and purple. Bright. Dull. Rounded. Sharpened. There is Catenan mosaic in its colors. Catenan art depicting Catenan events. It is hideous. The others look around and admire what they see. It is the first time Belli compliments something about ‘Suus’, other than when she had seen the Catenan architecture earlier. Everything is Catenan. The Hierarchy chewed itself and spat it all out, all over Vis’ home.
In his head, Vis is screaming. He grips his hands, as if he has them clasped and orderly. In reality, he is digging his fingernails into his skin. He leaves marks.
( At some point, Vis excuses himself to the latrines. He’s been chewing on his cheek the entire day. When he spits out near the drain, he sees blood. )
There are faces. Vis doesn’t care. He’s never cared about these faces. He probably was never meant to meet them. But he hears names, and recognizes them from Lanistia’s rigorous training sessions. He sees politicians and senators gather around. Cooks and self-proclaimed historians. All Catenan. They brag about the food cooked in the Catenan style, about how it is one hundred percent accurate to the traditional dishes in Suus. They muse about how lovely their vacations have been. How irritable it had been to meticulously install all their precious, Catenan things, to improve the living conditions in Suus.
Vis shakes hands with several people, most of whom have contributed to the destruction of his life, to the deaths of his family. It happens again, and again, and again. Greet. Smile. Chat. Repeat. Greet. Smile. Chat. Repeat. He excuses himself to the latrines again, where he washes his hands, over and over again.
Vis sips on wine that is passed around to the rest of the guests. Someone else, presumably working to serve the others, spills it on the ground. The worker apologizes profusely. The spill is red, like blood. He sees blood everywhere. There is blood on his tongue, blood on the ground, blood on their hands. At some point, he thinks back to the Naumachia. He’s too far gone, by then. All he can do now is listen for information spread around, so he can report it back to Relucia. The world is a daze. The rest is babble.
At some point, Emissa rescues him from the others. They talk in a corner of the room, about little things that would never matter in the bigger picture. With Emissa, the world is quiet. Everybody else is so loud.
From the corner of his eye, Vis can see Ulciscor.
Vis is crying, and he only realizes after his tears drop to the ground. And then his legs drop too, because he can barely stand on his feet on his own, anyway. He succumbs to the gravity pulling him down and then, Fadrique’s arms are around him. At some point, he is transported back to all those years ago. At some point, he is fourteen again.
He sees his things. His things! His sisters'! The little trinkets he and his sisters and collected over the years. Seashells that Cari had held so dear. Pages of writing that Ysa had kept to herself. His mother’s bow, his childhood books, the gifts he had carved as a child to give to his father. Little structures of boats with hidden slots and choppy shaping. The one with his real name is missing — the irony of it all is its own story. Things he had touched before, things that the Hierarchy had never touched. He runs his hands over the dust, over the wood, over the leather-bound covers. This is home. Not whatever monstrosities that were forced on his land.
At this moment, time isn’t real. How could it have been? It could have been yesterday when he was studying with Ysa above the cliffs he had walked on just earlier, with the gods-damned Thirds. It could have been yesterday that he was watching Cari from the shore, as she swam around, not him and Indol and Belli watching Emissa. It could’ve been yesterday, him playing around the hidden, Suusian tunnels with his sisters, and not crying in the dark with Fadrique, a man who is alone as he is. All the memories he had taken for granted for so, irreparably long.
Time had moved too fast, too slow, in cutting edges like the daggers that stabbed him, in the swirls of color like the sky he used to lay under every single day. Nothing in his life has ever been fair. Not time, not the people within it, not his memories, and perhaps not even himself.
The sun is golden, and it illuminates the rest of the sky in humble candlelight. Vis takes time to watch it. He’s usually so occupied that he doesn’t get the time to take a scenic route. It’s alright. He’s breathing. He lets himself breathe. It’s only himself, right here. Himself, and his feet planted on the ground, and the sunlight, and the breeze through his hair. The ocean reflects the sky. His gaze is set on the endless horizon. It glimmers in the setting sun. It smells of salt, and greenery, and smoke.
He’s the type of person with much on his mind. Now, his mind thinks of one name — Cari.
The sea is her tomb , he thinks. Endless. Haunting. A tomb of many others.
Vis closes his eyes. He sees green hills, sloping valleys, and palm trees. Damp sand, hundreds of seashells, and the warmth of the world. He sees his sisters, and their sun-browned faces, their radiant smiles, their dark hair, their laughter. What has always been his home.
Vis opens his eyes, and looks around. He sees what once had been his home. He sees how much change has occurred in such little time. Has anybody felt the same, or is he alone in his thoughts, too?
"Not ill anymore?" From the looks of it, this is the only time Indol is feeling particularly conversational with Vis, since the last time he and Vis had spoken on the beach. They're sitting across from each other, as Belli and Emissa are studying together for the day, and neither Vis or Indol have literally any other plans, nor the direct incentive to leave. Indol leans as he patiently waits for Vis to reply.
"Not coughing, not sneezing." Vis cocks his head. "But my throat is still sore." It isn't much of a lie. And anyways, although Indol had been somewhat avoiding him these days, Vis needs to learn as much as he could from the boy. Indol must be doing something right, if he's the top student at the Academy. Ulciscor would be kicking Vis down a flight of stairs if he didn't bother worming for information at least once. The least he can do now is gain a smidgen of Indol's trust. Even if unlikely, Indol trying to deflect away from Military is blackmail enough. "But less pain than before."
( Actually, they have blackmail for each other. Which is...clearly not ideal. Indol is, by far, the closest to figure out Vis' past. At least Vis had managed to redirect it somewhat. )
"Such is the path to healing." Indol closes the book he is reading. Vis can see the title from the other side of the table, which reads The Eternal Count : A Comprehensive Guide to Will-based Arithmetics and Numbering Systems. Indol must have caught Vis' gaze on the cover, because he then adds, so jovially that Vis cannot tell if he is sarcastic, "Only light reading."
"Of course," Vis says, mostly to gauge Indol's reaction. (Depending on how he would respond, Vis would figure out whether to admit he does not consider guides to Will-based numbering systems or related numerical Will concepts to be any kind of light reading in the slightest.) His eyes glaze over the increasingly pretentious titles in a stack of books next to Indol. Vis is somewhat grateful that Lanistia hasn't tortured him with those. The only other person Vis knows would bother reading those books would be, maybe, Callidus. And even then, Vis theorizes that Indol has only read, at most, two of them. Then again, who was he to think so? He should never underestimate a fellow academic opponent. "The highest form of fun. Many such cases."
"Had any fun with Emissa lately?" Indol raises his eyebrows.
"Well, she hasn't swam in any life-threatening lagoons, if that's what you're wondering."
"At least it makes for a good story to tell."
"To what, the school?"
"To be fair, gossip spreads fast around the Academy."
"I doubt they care."
Indol cocks his head. "About another tale of Catenicus' heroic adventures? I doubt you know how much word has spread about you."
The four of them are at the beach, once more, though Emissa and Indol are chatting along the shore, and Belli is strategizing with the Foundation Board somewhere almost far off. Vis is sitting by her, mostly to peer at whatever strategies she tends to utilize the most. She has a good eye, and Vis can tell. She uses both textbook Foundation moves and the slightly lesser-known ones. She tends to play with a healthy mixture of offense and defense, and while attacking she prepares, even before an attack on the other side has been made. And he notices, now that he is near, that Belli tends to rub her thumb against the nub of her missing finger whenever she is thinking.
Nobody is playing against her today. It isn't even her playing against herself. It's mostly just her fidgeting with the Foundation pieces, lining them up in different ways and visibly thinking to herself. Or at least that's what it looks to Vis. Whatever it is, she seems to find it a lot more entertaining than hanging around wet sand — which she had repeatedly muttered is her absolute worst nightmare. Besides the hotter days at Suus, anyways, since sunlight is also a great enemy of Belli Volenis.
Belli suddenly scowls. "If you're going to watch me do this without trying to hide it, you might as well just play against me instead."
Vis raises his arms, chuckling. "I already told you. I'd rather not embarrass myself."
"Scared?"
"Admittedly, maybe." It would be more useful for Belli to underestimate him than to think of him as an additional opponent. Vis had already learned this lesson with Aequa. He idly wonders how her Father reacted to her sudden change of ranking within Class Four. Or if he even knows about it at all — did Aequa even tell him of this in the first place? After all, Ulciscor had celebrated her failing so vehemently, but that was only after Vis had told him. Either way, she is still in Class Four. Just not the nearest to Class Three, not anymore.
Belli shakes her head, visibly unimpressed. She moves a piece across the board. "Boring."
"I like to think we are all equally boring here. You find moving Foundation pieces around an empty board the most fun thing to do here."
Belli grunts. "And your brilliant source of entertainment is watching me do so?"
They're a pause. Touché.
Vis nods toward her hand. "Did it hurt?"
Belli's neck snaps up. "Excuse me?"
"The..." Vis falters, mouth twitching. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say. "Your finger?"
Belli seems to have prepared for this question. It's the type of quick reply that tells Vis she must have been asked this dozens of times. "I was bitten by a Yellowsnake when I was thirteen, and cutting my finger was the only way to save the rest of me. This is old news, Vis."
"My fault for asking. I was just curious why you were near a Yellowsnake in the first place."
Belli doesn't look away from the red, triangular piece in her hand. She picks at it. "Accidents happen."
Indol and Belli have given up on teasing Vis and Emissa, now that they begin to realize that their dynamic is no secret to anybody anymore.
“It takes the fun away,” Belli points out flatly, eyebrows raised after she had caught Emissa whispering something to Vis, “if you just flaunt it now. Go back to pretending nobody notices. It was stupid that way. Easier to make fun of.” (Emissa giggles in the distance.)
Indol, to his credit, begins to skirt around Vis. It is probably since they are even, secrets and all. Leaving Military is a big deal, anyway, and Indol had definitely not intended for Vis, of all people, to know. Now that Vis can think of it, Indol is beginning to look rather annoyed with this turn of events. Every time Vis squints at Indol to scrutinize him, the other boy gives a resigned shrug, and then engages in useless small-talk.
Emissa sits with Vis more often than ever before. This is probably beginning to annoy Indol further, who is now, out of common decency, forced to sit beside Belli.
“I have something to show you,” Emissa says, one day. She’s peering over the edge of the doorway of Vis’ room, where he is now studying by himself.
Vis looks up from his (arguably overcompensating) book — The Nature of Will and Will-based Machinery through Modern History . Indol had recommended it to him for ‘future reference’, though Vis had majorly just been dragging his eyes through the bulk of the words. Callidus would have understood this more than him, for sure. He tells himself to ask him about this when he returns to the Academy. “Hm?”
“It’s really pretty. You have to see it before the sun sets. I’ve been walking around Suus earlier.”
Emissa takes him up a cliff path, holding her arms out as if to balance herself. Vis, remembering what Indol had told him some days ago, pretends to be scared of heights as well. At least, for the moment. He forgets this is supposed to be a priority after some time.
And then Emissa stops. Holds her arms up to signify that Vis can stop walking. “What do you think?”
The view is breathtaking. The clouds and the sky are in blending hues of pink, and orange, and gold, and purple, like watercolors being smeared across the horizon. The towns of Suus bustle below. It’s so mellow, and colorful, and muted, and —
“Ah!”
— familiar.
Emissa looks confused. “What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful. Really. Thank you.”
“Right? I was walking up this path,” Emissa gestures around them, and he can see faint footprints in the dirt, presumably from earlier, “and was wondering why it led to nowhere. Safe to say there was truly a reason. The sunset here is stunning, don’t you think? You can see so much from up here.”
This was where Vis and Ysabel used to study, where they would escape off to when they felt bored with their own tutors. This was their spot. Their view. But Vis isn’t angry at Emissa. Not in the slightest. All she did was spot something beautiful and try to share it with him.
( Breathe , he tells himself. He relaxes his fists. )
Still taking slow breaths, Vis sits himself at the edge of the cliff, making himself comfortable. His legs hang down. The sunlight shines on his face. He watches the people below, go about their day. It’s so different, now. Catenans and Suusians and all.
When he glances back, Emissa looks slightly awkward. “I don’t know how I feel about sitting at the edge of the cliff,” she admits.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know — I just,” Emissa shakes her head, and then lingers behind him, but not at the edge, “It’s a big fall. And it’s so windy. And it takes just one wrong move. I can't always rely on you to save my life. You’ve played hero enough. Let’s be honest.”
“Of course.” Vis certainly hasn’t been honest this whole time. He suddenly feels ill. Not in the way he actually was a while ago, but in the way where everything is terrible and sometimes something is a fault of his own. Emissa could be putting her trust in him. But he can’t risk anything, not to anyone. “We’re just here to appreciate the view.”
If his life had room for romance, something real — maybe Vis would’ve been looking at Emissa when he had said those words. Maybe he would've trusted her and her word for it. Maybe he’d be searching her green eyes, or listening to the sound of her laugh, or letting her talk with him so could hear her voice, or holding her steady so she’d know she wouldn’t fall. But he can’t do that. He can hang around her all he wants but he will never be able to pursue something fully. So he trains his eyes on the bustle below, and his shoulders feel heavy. He sees people. His people, his enemies, and the ghosts within the sea.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Emissa bursts, out of nowhere.
There’s silence, now, and the both of them stare at each other like idiots. Emissa's expression in particular is ridiculously hard to read. Vis is majorly just bewildered by this turn of conversation. He merely blinks.
“What for?” He scrunches his face, now remembering Indol's suggestion to stop looking so unbothered by cliffs. Vek. Idiot. It wasn't like there was any way to back out of it now, since Vis was already sitting down on the ledge and immediately scrambling up would be too suspicious. “Not being able to sit on a cliffside? That’s a completely normal thing to worry about. Don’t worry. Heights don't bother me personally, is all.”
“No, I mean,” For half a second, Emissa looks distressed. She huffs. “I’m so sick of walking. Belli challenged me to do extra laps with her, just earlier in the day. I’m too scared to sit by the cliff but I’m too tired to keep standing. It’s stupid, I know. I showed you here to see this view and then started to regret it after the ache in my legs crept up again. Climbing up here was work enough.”
Vis blinks again. Then, laughs. “You should work on your timing. You made me worried.”
“It’s my bad, really.”
“Do you want to go back?”
“Maybe. You just seemed so peaceful, I didn’t want to ruin the moment.”
Vis tries to stand, but Emissa ushers him down, shaking her head. He frowns. “I’ll leave with you. It’s not a problem.”
“I’ll go on my own. Really. You seem like you’d want the rest and quiet, and all. You looked so solemn, and it's so pretty out here. I'll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Emissa nods, and takes one last glance at the view before she steps back. The sun is setting, so most of the colors have shifted to a dimmer orange. “Belli’s probably looking for me, anyway. I told I was going to go over the history of Catenan agriculture with her, but I haven’t done so all day. You know her. She wouldn’t shut up about it if I ended up not showing at all.”
“I know I’ve asked, but are you sure you don’t want me to — “
“Don’t worry about it!” Emissa's voice sounds more distant. “I’ll see you in the morning!”
“Tomorrow morning, really? That's when we return back, isn't it? How about — ” When Vis turns to crane his neck at her, Emissa is already gone. “Ah.”
Vis is left alone with his thoughts again. If only for a while.
At some point, Vis is reminded that he has been hungry all day. He decides he has one more thing to do. He'd never forgive himself if he decided not to do it, the day before his return. He walks along the path near the town, and then stands in front of a tavern. The very one the Thirds have been sent out of, not long ago. The wood is dark, and the interior seems dim from outside, through its several windows. The door is chipped, and yet he pushes it open.
Was I recognized? Was I remembered, the way Fadrique had remembered me?
The question echoes inside Vis' mind as he eats. He receives no answer in return.
Vis savors the meal until its last bite.
The oysters, the shrimp, the crab, the lobster — and all the Suusian sauce that comes with it. He’s so wrapped around eating the meal that he nearly forgets to wipe the sauce that has made its way to the sides of his mouth. When he’s done with the meal, Vis takes the cup that Menendo had intentionally placed beside him and relishes every drop of the sweet-tasting, rich wine. Their exchange had completely omitted any speaking. And even then, Vis was given a meal fit for a king.
His home is no elaborate villa, no stolen palace, and certainly nowhere alongside the Hierarchy. His home is here : at the corner of an old tavern, near a wide window, where he can learn to ignore the Will-powered ships and focus on the tinier fishing boats, narrow and all, their sails furled yet withstanding. Where he can watch the sea from a distance, hear the waves and the wind, and eat with his people, whether they recognize him or not. Whether he has a name worth remembering.
Does he hear whispers? Does he gain looks? He tries not to turn away from the window until he leaves. No matter what, he will be welcome here.
Parting ways with Suus again is another kind of feeling. It isn't disappointment, or sadness, or even heartbreak. This isn't the same Suus he had left all those years ago. This isn't the same fourteen-year-old boy, either, with floppy hair and sun-tanned skin and a family he had recently lost to the Hierarchy. This is Vis Telimus, Catenicus, and his main priority is making it to the Iudicium and graduating Catenan Academy.
But as he glances back at the island one more time, the ship against the current, Vis reminds himself that his family hasn't been forgotten. That there are some on his side, this time, and those who still know of Diago. He may be Catenicus to the Hierarchy now, but he has once been the Prince of Suus to his people.
And maybe he still is.