Heretical Fishing

Book 3: Chapter 5: Rude Awakening

“To define enlightenment is to shackle the fledgling meditator with an unfair burden. What it means to be enlightened is subjective, and it falls upon each child to traverse this path alone, lest their road be ravaged by false information.”

Excerpt from Prologue, House Kraken Manual

In the predawn hours, George, the lord of Tropica, let out a slow sigh.

He’d had a terrible sleep, riddled with interruptions that he couldn’t explain. The first had pulled at his core just after midnight. Unable to calm his racing heart, he’d remained awake for who knew how long, and just when slumber welcomed him into its open arms once more, the second event occurred. Unlike the first, this one seemed to constrict his entire body. It only lasted for half a breath, but that was plenty of time for anxiety to shoot up his spine and ruin any chance of more sleep.

Which was why he decided to meditate instead.

As he traversed his way toward his study, George had wondered if he was close to reaching the ‘enlightenment’ his family spoke of. The term was loosely defined, the texts insisting that if explained, it would be harder for one to reach it. What else could these strange occurrences be? After all, they had only begun after he and his wife, Geraldine, started reading House Kraken’s manual. The better they got at the meditations listed within, the more frequent and powerful the unexplainable events became.

Realizing he was lost in thought, George shook his head, smiling at himself.

I claim to be getting better at the meditations, yet here I am, lost in past worries and future possibilities.

George sat cross-legged in his study, and he let out his breath, focusing once more on the sensations of his body in space, just as his family’s tome instructed.

The hardwood of his study’s floor beneath him. His breaths, cooling each nostril when he inhaled and warming them when he exhaled hot air. The spot where his hands rested on his knees, and the tingling that ran up and down his fingers. Together, they rooted him in the present, an unignorable tether to the here and now.

But then the knock came, three sharp raps of a knuckle on his front door that made adrenaline shoot through George’s body.

He took a deep breath, holding it and willing his heart to remain calm. Just when he thought he’d lose the battle, a hand rested softly on his leg. George cracked his eyes and peered over at his beloved wife.

Geraldine gave him a kind smile, rubbing his knee softly with one hand. “Want me to get it, dear?”

“No,” he replied, getting to his feet and stretching. “I can handle him.”

He bent and kissed the top of her head before striding out the door and heading for the stairs. As he walked down them, he didn’t rely on the ornate banisters to either side. House Kraken’s manual was strict with one’s diet, and George had been following it militantly. Though it had been hard to give up his sugary treats at first, that temporary discomfort was nothing beneath the weight of George’s former stressors. His prodigious size had melted away like candle wax, leaving behind a body that could move much more freely.

As George reached the landing, he paused for a moment in front of the door. Taking one last calming breath, he opened it.

Fischer was standing there, his hand upraised and ready to knock again. “Oh. G’day, George. How are ya, mate?”

The village girl Fischer was often with stood beside him.

“You remember Maria, don’t you?” Fischer asked.

“Of course. Hello.”

“Hi!” She gave him a brilliant smile. “Good to see you!”

“And this is my doggy pal, Borks,” Fischer continued. “I’m not sure you’ve been introduced.”

The golden-colored dog wagged his tail as he stared up at George.

Was he expected to greet the dog, too? He decided it was safest to do so.

“Hello, Borks.”

The dog let out a soft bark, his tail swishing faster.

George pursed his lips, looking back up toward Fischer. The faintest whispers of the day to come shone over the eastern rooftops, the sky there turning a light purple as the sun announced its arrival.

“What can I do for you at this early hour?”

“Sorry about that, mate. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Not at all.”

“Good. I came with a request, actually.”

“Oh?” George swallowed, hoping he hid the spike of fear that drove into him. “I can do my best to fulfill it. What did you need?”

“I want to see your wedding ring, mate.”

George froze, his skin prickling. What did Fischer want with his family’s treasure? The rings he and Geraldine wore were passed down for time immemorial, always going to the heir of House Kraken. Given Fischer’s position and how low George’s house had fallen in recent years, if Fischer saw fit to confiscate the iridescent-stone-encrusted jewelry, there was nothing George could do about it.

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“Everything okay, mate?” Fischer asked, his predatory gaze drilling into George’s very soul.

“No,” he forced out through a suddenly dry mouth. “Of course you can look at it...”

As George slipped the ring off, Fischer’s eyes never left him. They weren’t on George’s face or hands, though—they seemed pinned to his abdomen for some reason.

“Here...” George said, offering the ring on a shaking palm.

Fischer plucked the ring from George’s hand, and as he held it up before his face, Fischer’s eyes went distant. They seemed to look through the ring, and as something flashed in Fischer’s pupils, George felt a tug at his abdomen.

It was nothing like the strength of those last night. The pull was so faint that George thought he might have imagined it at first, but it continued, his very core getting drawn towards... Fischer. George’s abdomen started to tingle, then it started to buzz, and sweat sprouted from his pores.

Abruptly, Fischer’s eyebrows shot up, and that same weighing gaze drifted to George. There was something in the crown agent’s scrutiny that made a primitive part of George’s brain want to flee. He needed to escape, to get as far away from the threat as possible. Of its own accord, his right foot slid back, ready to sprint.

“Huh...” Fischer said, and all at once the ferocity melted away, leaving behind features covered in surprise.

George wiped perspiration from his brow with a shaky movement as he brought his leg forward again. “Is...” The word came out strained, so he cleared his throat. “Is something wrong?”

Fischer grinned. “Not at all, mate! Thanks for that.”

George accepted the offered ring, staring down at it numbly.

“I’ve been really curious about jewelry lately, and seeing this design was a big help. Could I ask one more favor of you, mate?”

“Of course,” George replied, slowly raising his head to look at Fischer.

“Thanks, George. Do you know where Tom Osnan Jr. lives? I wanted to have a peek at his rings too. He has so many of them!”

He nodded, still half expecting Fischer to attack. He hadn’t missed the omission of ‘Lord’ from Tom Osnan Jr.’s name, and winced internally at his disrespect of such a powerful family. “If you follow this street and turn right at the intersection, it’s three houses down. You’ll know it when you see it…”

“Cheers, mate.” Fischer reached a hand out, and in its approach, George saw his doom. The limb seemed to come in slow motion, but when it reached George, Fischer patted him softly on the shoulder. “Have a good day, yeah? See ya round.”

“Bye, George,” Maria said, giving him a wave as she turned and followed Fischer’s departure.

“Until next time...”

George stepped back inside and closed the door, his legs giving way the moment he was alone. He slid down the wall and came to rest on the floor.

“What in Poseidon’s salted shaft was that...?”

***

When my enhanced hearing caught George’s whispered curse, I stopped mid-step, turning to raise an eyebrow at Maria.

She covered her mouth, her eyes bugging out as she stifled a laugh.

“Maria!” I whisper yelled, trying to hide my amusement. “We shouldn’t laugh at poor George’s social anxiety!”

“I can’t help it! I never thought he’d say something so crass!”

I shook my head. “Poor bloke. He’s been doing so well, but every time I talk to him, he reverts back to his anxious self.”

“Okay, you’re right. I shouldn’t have laughed.” A smile tugged at her lip, betraying her true feelings. “So. Did you learn anything?”

“I did,” I replied, chewing my lip as I recalled the ring’s description.

Iridescent Ring of the Kraken

Epic

A ring of precious metal, adorned by the most sought-after stones found in the Kallis Realm. More than just a symbol of wealth, this ring has a multitude of purposes for those with the requisite knowledge.

I relayed it to Maria, and it was her turn to pause. “You’re serious?”

“I am, but that’s not all. I felt chi from George.”

“You did?” she asked entirely too loudly, then winced, adopting a quieter tone. “He’s a cultivator? Why did we leave, then?”

“Not a cultivator, no. It was weird. He hasn’t awakened yet, but there was definitely something there...”

“That’s... troubling.”

I shrugged. “We’ll have to keep an eye on it, but I’m not worried about him. George is a good bloke.”

Maria chewed her cheek. “I’m not too sure about that, but he has been doing good by the villagers lately...”

We slipped into silence as we followed the street, only our footfalls and the tapping of Borks’s nails interrupting the quiet. As we entered the intersection, I looked up, gazing three doors down to the home of Lord Osnan Jr.

“Holy frack…”

“Yeah,” Maria agreed. “George wasn’t kidding when he said we’d know it when we saw it.”

***

Lord Tom Osnan Jr., heir to house Osnan, woke abruptly.

“What...?” he asked, sitting upright and looking around.

The sky past his silken curtains was still dark, only hints of the sun’s rays cresting the horizon.

His wife, Joanne, groaned from beside him, rolling over and covering her head with a lush pillow. “Someone at the door,” came her muffled voice.

Surely that wasn’t the case. What sort of fool would—

Thump. Thump. Thump.

For a moment, Tom was confused, but then fury roiled within him. He’d already had a fitful sleep after being woken twice by waves of chi, and now he had to deal with some idiot—probably a peasant—knocking on his door in the predawn hours.

He shrugged a robe on, adopted his best scowl, and stomped downstairs. Throwing the door open, he cast his displeasure out onto the street. Three smiles met him.

“G’day, mate. Nice to see you again.”

It was the upstart that had accosted him the other week. Tom had tried to slap him, but that fool George Kraken caught his hand.

I should have used my full strength... Tom thought. Then I wouldn’t be dealing with this moron right now.

“Everything okay, mate?” the peasant asked. “You having a medical episode of some sort?”

Tom’s lip twitched, and he didn’t bother hiding his displeasure. “Knock on my door again and you’ll regret it.”

He made to close the door, but the man put his foot forward, blocking it. “I’m afraid I must insist, mate. It’s important.”

“Very important,” the woman added, giving him a grin through the crack.

“Why don’t you invite them in, Tom?” Joanne asked, striding down the stairs.

He spun on her, confused by her appearance and the suggestion, but then he caught the righteous anger lining her face.

“Maybe you’re right, dear,” he replied. “Where are my manners?” He swung the door open again. “Would you like to come in and discuss it? We’d be more than happy to hear you out.”

“Thanks!” the man replied, leading them in.

As the three sorry souls entered their home, Tom and Joanne Osnan shared a smirk.