ROLEPLAY

Winderly 14, 1st AC 2619

If only I had had any idea of what awaited us.
Fort Beacon, in my imagination, was a small camp, on the edge of a cliff, lost in a most hostile environment, a bit like the camp of the Watchers. A brazier fixed to the top of a pole, on a hillock, high up. A bunch of irritable, rough Rangers, fighting against the elements. Three tents, a campfire.
We discovered a small town, built inside a part of the Canopy, lit up with incredible magic. I didn't expect to have such a shock until I saw the ramparts of Fyre. The top floor, where the light comes from, is a clever tangle of objects, the "lenses" of a Karavan ship, apparently wrecked and looted centuries ago, as the camp steward explained to us. Objects that reflect and amplify the light of a large brazier. I was able to observe one of these objects, up close, one of the lenses that was a bit broken. One can see through it, in a way, as if it were solidified water, embedded in a large ring made of the strange material of Karavan ships. As I watched Azazor through it, I laughed, he seemed to have regained the weight he had lost over the past few weeks. Oy, we tend to float in our armor, I must say.
The steward may well have told me that there was no magic in them, I still think they're some kind of amplifier, like the ones we wear, but specifically for light. Something magical that distorts reality. I asked if I would be allowed to take one of these lens fragments with me... Then thinking for a moment, under Azazor's heavy eye, I added: "On our way back... We are loaded enough as it is". She smiled, and offered to talk about this when we come back.

The steward, Tao, is an incredibly calm homina. She asked about the New Lands, and listened without really seeming to be impressed by anything. I told her what I thought: a bedridden Fyros emperor with no descendants, the Theocracy always terrified when a yubo farts some goo, Trykers who stick their noses in everything... We didn't really talk about the Matis.Azazor gave some other news, perhaps a little less disillusioned than mine. The homina was watching us, and seemed to be amused by our diametrically opposed personalities. We talked about the Nexus too, about the bark quake, about the gibbais, about raw materials, a subject that aroused more interest in her. Azazor also told about his fall into the rift, his famous encounter with Fyrak. Like me, Tao did not hide her doubts. He then pulled out an object, which he obviously kept in a pocket of his armor, like a storyteller displaying evidence. "I brought this back," he said. "A tooth, which embedded itself in my armor when I thrust a spear into its gaping maw. A Fyrak tooth, of a material as cold as the fragments of the Karavan ship we had observed earlier. I looked at Azazor in amazement, but added nothing.

Then I explained to Tao that I had been a Ranger, for years, before joining the Drakani to serve the Federation of the Lakes.I asked why the Rangers here didn't use tunnels to get around. Her answer was so obvious, I felt like an idiot. The tunnels on the New Lands are only a few miles long at most, and it's still a dangerous mode of transportation, no matter how well controlled. Moreover, the Almati Rangers' contacts with the two Powers assure that, if something goes wrong, a homin will be brought back anyway. Here, the distances to travel are infinitely greater. "We have developed and sought out these passages," she said, "but we have had too many casualties. In our country, a homin who gets stuck in a tunnel has no chance of ever seeing the light of the surface again."

Anyway, we talked a lot with the steward, and with Kickan too, over a few drinks.
Azazor is relatively less talkative with him. For my part, I like this Tryker. It has to be said that I got the habit of being surrounded by his kind, these last years. I realize that I miss those Drakanis tricksters a little bit. I guess Kickan has the same caustic and sincere sense of humor as their. We laughed while comparing his accent to that of the New Lands. He explained that the Rangers here were speaking the Ranger dialect among themselves, and that it is possible that the tyll and other homin languages had less opportunity to distort over time. We also tasted their local liquor, baba, and I tried to get him to taste some leftover of the gingerbread Eolinius gave me, which is a bit dry now. I had to explain to him that it was a local specialty and that it was much better fresh, nothing doing! Even dipped in baba. Well… it was as dry as a legionary's snack.
When I asked him why so many homins lived here and why they didn't come to live in the New Lands, he answered:
"Why leave here? To go and crowd us into the New Lands, to have to respect the whims of your emperors and kings... And then, if we don't stay, who will do our work here? Who will take in the unwary like you? "He laughed, I laughed too. Azazor not so much.
Then he added with a smile, "The Oflovak's Halt hosts at least ten times as many homins as Fort Beacon, and yet there is enough room for all. You will see that soon. We depart for there in five days."
We opened our eyes wide and waited for his explanation, "I couldn't wait to get back over there. I just got permission from Tao to see to the next liaison instead of Pad'ocett and Laniolle. Two of us always at least travel for that normally, and my usual crewhomin is currently on other duties. But since you'll probably be along for the ride... We'll be enough of three."
We smiled. Five days was enough time for us to fully recover.

Later that evening, as Azazor was beginning to sleep on his feet, or grumbling in his corner as usual, I casually asked if there were any Trytonists on the island of Oflovak. He nodded and smiled, "Oh, those who fight the Powers of the New Lands? Not so much at the Halt, no. From what I know, they gather at Shady Shore to escape the Karavan. That is their hideout. Besides, if they came here, they would have no more reason to be Trytonists. There are no Powers here."
I replied that, from what it seemed to me, it wasn't really about fighting, that they weren't attacking the Powers head-on, but were mostly trying to maintain some balance. He laughed, stood up and took a few staggering steps (or was it a dance?) toward the bar. "Balance, we're the kings of balance here!". He returned with more doses of baba.
As he sat down, his gaze ostensibly fell on my hand, the one where that black spot remains embedded in my skin. I froze, what a ramèch toub I am forgetting to wear a glove. Then his eyes landed on me, and he stared at me for a moment. I remained silent, feeling like he was reading my mind. After a moment, he held out a vial of baba, smiled and said:
"You know what a Zorai says when he bumps into a bar table?"

"Tahi!!! This is going to get me a bruise again."(*)

(*) Untranslatable pun : EN "bruise" and EN "blue" (the color of zorais' skin) both spell "bleu" in FR.

*****

Today I was allowed to go with two Rangers, a Fyros and a Matis, on a guard tour around the Fort. This is a task they perform very regularly. Azazor stayed at the tower to try to access the archives. He wants to know which homins from the New Lands have stopped here. I guess he's obsessed with it.
We started by following the path up to the cliff, the one we had taken when we arrived. This time it seemed like a much shorter distance... We must have been in a really bad state upon arrival. They inspected the path and looked for signs on the ground, explaining that on rare occasions the Sea of Wood's predators had ventured out here, leaving numerous claw marks in the sawdust. This could have been a sign of some unusual agitation. If so, we would have to postpone our departure to the Halt. But everything seems quiet and usual right now, they told me.
Then we went northward along the cliff. They noted a couple of landslides, common in this area and not very serious. From one spot, we had a clear, unobstructed view of the mist topping the Sea of Wood. The sky was relatively clear. They pointed out an area to me, in the distance, a trail of mist that seemed to be rising a little higher, as if stirred by some turmoil on the ground. "They're on the hunt," they told me. "This area to the north is one of the most dangerous, the higher up you go, and usually the closer you are to a cliff flanked by a ramp." I squinted, trying to observe. "They're seven or eight kilometers away, you won't see anything more from here. Down there, we get our bearings mostly by their screams."

Predators do not stay in this area, they told me later. They only come to hunt and feed, in packs. It is also because it is difficult to survive as you go deeper into the center of the Sea of Wood, a difficulty the homins undergo too. Only the armadai and some other creatures as strange as discreet live there. The packs generally come from the north, sometimes from the south, and the Rangers suspect that one or two packs have found refuge on one of the high islets, a little further south. As the claws of these kind of big yetins hardly cling to the cliff of Fort Beacon, they only venture there if they are surprised by strong thunderstorms or sawdust tempests.

We left the cliff and headed for the bark below. They pointed to the horizon, straight ahead:
"The Eternal Tree is in this direction. On a very clear day, like today, we can see its top from the top of the tower."
As we moved through the bark, we went from a desert area to a kind of jungle. We arrived in what they call the Sleeping Stumps. A place that immediately reminded me of the Barkgully, between Pyr and the Oflovak's Oasis, but covered with a dense and varied vegetation. It is filled with residues of pieces of the Canopy, fallen during the natural formation of the Fort. A multitude of bark chunks, some gigantic, fallen from the sky centuries ago. Suffice to say, I was amazed by this place. The Rangers were on the lookout, as the jugulas sometimes venture here to hunt the small herbivores living here. I picked up a few specimens of leaves, small trees unknown in the New Lands, as well as some small pieces of bark.

Then we carried on, staying at a distance from the Fort, and without really losing sight of it, describing a wide circle. The two Rangers observed several herd movements, jugulas in the distance, some groups of herbivores, including yelks very similar to those of our Desert. After an hour or two of walking, we headed back to the Fort, to return.
"While we do the northern part, another team takes care of the south. Otherwise the tour is much too long to be done in a sole day, especially when unforeseen events occur. But it's a quiet day, not much to report."

On the way back, I met up with Azazor and we climbed to the top of the tower, to admire the crown of the Eternal Tree, still lit by the evening light. What we can see is only a tiny part of this gigantic tree, which stretches for thousands of miles on the ground. I wonder if it is possible for homin eyes to admire the whole of it in its immensity. Other Rangers came to rekindle the flame of the great brazier that illuminates the Beacon. We watched them, then Azazor went back down at the call of the evening meal. I stayed up there alone for a while, imagining myself staying and spending the rest of my life in this place. Then I thought about the path left to us, and about all the people waiting for us to come back.
We leave in two days.

I still have to write two letters, seal them, and give them to the steward, hoping that a not too bumbling someone will soon make the trip towards the New Lands. One is for my friends in the Lakes and the Desert. The other, coded, for Mazé'Yum, through Nikuya for greater discretion, I think she'll be able to find him. With the instruction on each envelope to pay the bearer on arrival only if the seal is intact.