'Wasn't the first trial supposed to be… a bit easier than this? Or am I just too weak?'
Arthur thought to himself as he lay on the hard wooden platform. It felt like he was back on the ship's wreckage—only this time, more tired and sore than before.
He spotted a canoe with an armored man inside. No one wears full-body armor without knowing how to fight or defend themselves, so thinking it would be easy to push the man off and somehow fight the other person was nothing but stupid. But it made sense now—why he'd acted so foolishly just moments ago. It wasn't drunken confidence. It was the Sailor's Rum, and more importantly, the Scar he'd received had a Corrupted bearing.
'How could I ignore something like that?'
Arthur had always believed he wouldn't make a mistake so careless it could cost him his life—but here he was.
There were two types of bearings a Scar could have. The first was normal—it came with no side effects beyond what was listed in its description. But then there were those with Corrupted bearings—Scars obtained from a Corrupted. These carried a fixed backlash, unrevealed by the Hex in its description.
And the Sailor's Rum seemed to have the ability to dull one's critical thinking to some extent.
Arthur cursed himself silently.
"Son, we know you're awake, so stop pretending. We're not going to harm you."
The man in shining iron armor spoke. His voice was deep and gruff, but it had a soothing quality that made it hard to doubt him.
Arthur pushed himself up and sat facing the man. He looked to be in his late sixties, yet had aged gracefully—a head full of short, ashen hair, a thick beard to match, and crow's feet at the corners of his brown eyes. If one word could describe him just off of his appearance, it was wise.
"Seems like that child was right."
Arthur turned and saw an old woman. Up close, she looked ancient—her face a web of deep wrinkles, several teeth missing, eyes cloudy, and hair thin. She was wrapped in a muddy blue robe. Beside her lay a pile of cloth.
'It's the same strap that pulled me up.'
Arthur recognized it right away. The white cloth strip was undoubtedly an enchanted item.
"are you one of the rebels, son—" the old man began, but quickly caught himself.
"Oh, I apologize for the late introduction. I'm Earl, and that there is my twin sister, Pearl. We both come from downstream."
Half of what he said went over Arthur's head, but he didn't show it.
Old Man Earl looked at him expectantly.
"I'm Arthur Dahl," he said plainly.
Earl gave a subdued smile and nodded.
"How did you survive?" Pearl asked. Her voice lacked the soothing tone of her brother's.
'Her name doesn't suit her.'
"I don't know… I just made sure not to drown under the shipwreck," Arthur replied vaguely.
Everything had taken a turn. He couldn't just tell them he had no idea whose body he'd taken control of, or that he was inside a trial—created entirely by the Hex. They'd think he was insane.
"What made you think I might be a rebel?" Arthur latched onto Earl's earlier question. If they suspected him, he could circle back with an excuse about not trusting them.
Truth was, Arthur had no real direction in this trial. The Hex had given him nothing, and these were the first people he'd met since being thrown into this place.
Earl raised a finger and pointed at him. "That lamp—it's the kind I've only ever seen rebels from upstream carry. Not like I've been upstream myself."
"You'd know since all your life you were busy hunting rebels in this river. Never had time for anything else, General," Pearl scoffed.
Arthur's gaze snapped back to Earl as he processed what she'd said. The old man noticed the frown on Arthur's face and raised a hand in dismissal.
"Don't worry," he said. "I'm… no longer part of the Navy. I've lost both the position and the motivation to keep being a pawn."
Earl looked around them. "Are you injured anywhere?" He asked the obvious, but Arthur immediately understood Earl's concern.
Arthur had a pale tunic and cotton lowers on—both dampened and clinging to his body. He slowly pulled the lowers up, revealing his left calf... or at least what used to be his calf—it was almost completely bitten off.
Somehow, his lowers were not damaged, only soiled by blood—and that was the concern, because blood attracts the corrupted.
It was always a hassle, because even after death, corruption takes control of the dead and turns once-intellectual beings into mindless abominations that know nothing. These corrupt have no concept of thought, pain, or fear—only insatiable hunger.
Which seemed to be true here, as it is in the real world. Arthur tensed up, knowing this injury was nothing but an invitation he had given out to uncomfortable monstrosities lurking beneath the serene surface of these dark waters.
Pearl stood up. "We need to return to the convoy. Now."
Arthur was brought out of his thoughts. "Where are we going?"
Pearl looked at him, but as if uninterested, she stepped towards one end of the canoe. There, she plucked out a nail with her bare hands. Only when she moved the nail did Arthur notice a thread tied to it—one end fixed to the nail and the other stretching far away, floating just a few feet above the water.
Pearl stretched her hand behind her, tightening the thread, arching her back in a practiced manner, and closing her eyes. The old woman then tucked into the string with her other hand, her bony fingers pulling it as if it were some sort of musical instrument... only there was no sound—it was dead silent.
Before Arthur could process what was happening, wind hit his face. His body lurched back from the immense force, his vision blurring from the splashing water—the canoe was moving. It sped more and more with each passing moment.
Earl firmly put his hands around Arthur's shoulders, and despite all the noise around them, Arthur heard his words loud and clear, as if the old man were speaking inside his mind.
"Kingdoms, monarchs, churches, armies, and rebels... Places we once belonged to are gone. We—the people—have been abandoned by our gods. This damned river is going to kill us eventually, so before that happens, we've decided to conquer The Last Spire."
The terrible ride lasted for a few minutes before it came to a sudden halt. Arthur would have gone flying off the canoe if not for Earl holding him with all his might. On the other hand, Pearl stood straight, as if everything that happened had no effect on her.
...Or so Arthur thought. But before he could understand, Pearl collapsed. Earl left Arthur staggering back and picked up his twin sister.
Arthur ignored them both and looked around. The scenery had changed—it was no longer endless dark water. They were now in the middle of an encirclement of hundreds of huge ships, all connected to one another with wooden bridges or ropes. People roamed about, hauling, shouting commands, and cursing, as if all were in a hurry for something.
It was like a massive floating city in the middle of nowhere.
"Where the fuck am I?"