Beep beep, on revient à nos moutons.
Chapter 5: Warmed by the Fire
After a couple days of navigation only, the Indian Ocean was crossed. From there on, it was but a short distance to their destination, a continent in the heart of the Fire Ocean as they called it.
Zia had never been to this part of the world, but even then she could sense something was off. It all felt jarring. The places she had traveled through so far all breathed of ancient times; but this one was different. It was oh so different.
From the harbor, she could see high buildings towering into the sky. She could see streets paved with stone, decorated with ornamental flowers and metal statues. Machines started unloading the boat once they docked, and carts pulled by no animal she could see went to welcome passengers and merchandises. Zia watched it happen as she stood on the deck awkwardly, wondering what she should do, making sure to not be in anyone's way.
“Scary...”, Pichu commented, as another loaded shipment walked right past them.
“A little.”
Zia turned to the city she could see in the distance.
“Do you think...this is it? The continent of Mu, in the flesh?”
“Remember the people of Mu! Wisdom, wisdom of Mu!”
“Yes. It'd take a lot of wisdom to build something so...so Muan.”
She watched for another moment, still unsure of what to do. It took a servant ushering her in the right direction for her to finally follow, walking down to solid land after what has likely been the shortest ocean crossing of her life.
Down on the port, Kane'Oro was being greeted by his fellow people. They were all bowing and showing him great reverence, which made Zia rather uneasy. Whoever he was, he had status, power; she felt even smaller, standing next to him. So she tried to retreat a little, but she kept being pushed forward, towards this welcoming crowd of giants. And perhaps he sensed her unease, for he decided it was time to go.
A coach was waiting for them. It was richly decorated with gold and glass, and made of a style unlike anything she's seen. Kane'Oro and a couple of followers entered in, and Zia was invited as well; so she shyly took a seat, watching the city around as the vehicle started moving on its own, pulled by no horse or man. Pichu squeaked in fear, and hid in her sleeve for a good moment, as she tried to reassure him that all would be fine.
Perhaps he sensed the lie in her voice, for he didn't come out.
A conversation in Muan was going on, of which she didn't dare ask the meaning. The situation was all too familiar of her time at the Court of Spain, where she learned that the best way to keep alive was to be quiet and never bother anyone. So she made herself even smaller than she was, petting Pichu's feathers to keep herself grounded down, to not slip into a state of panic and make a mess of herself. Instinctively, bits of countenance and stance came back to her, and she tried to be as still and unnoticeable as possible. To not bother, to not impede, to not be in anyone's range. To pass for a doll with no feelings and no needs, like they would want her to be.
That's about when a large hand pat her shoulder.
[...]
Read the rest at:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/25015 ... s/61360891