Reception

Chapter 8: Reception

Shaela

I stood at attention, waiting below an overcast sky for the witch representative to arrive. I had arrived thirty minutes ahead of schedule, as per my parents’ advice, to ensure that we could receive the witch and get them safely to the estate via carriage. I hadn’t counted on my parents’ rumor turning my public appearance from a gesture of good faith into the talk of the town. I winced, thinking that our conversation at Clashers may have contributed to the rumors reaching outside the noble houses, as not just soldiers and aristocrats surrounded the dock, but the common people, too. “Why again were we not allowed to use the military dock?” I spoke out of the corner of my mouth, still at attention.

“You’ll have to take that up with the Grand Admiral, Miss MacCrow,” a reply came from the driver’s seat of the carriage.

I took a deep breath, shaking my hands and shoulders to relieve any cramps, and broke from attention. I had pulled my pocket watch from my coat. It read a few minutes past high noon. I had been standing for over half an hour now and felt that if I stood still any longer, I would turn to stone and be a new statue for the docks. “Sergeant!” I barked, and one of the soldiers maintaining the perimeter hustled over, saluting when they arrived. “These clouds make it hard to see any ships on approach. Have we heard anything from the Dockmaster?”

“No, Sir.” The sergeant replied. “If I may, we could request the Dockmaster divert trade to the port outside the city, to be sure we know of the representative's arrival.”

I paused for a moment and sharpened my stance, affixing my gaze on the horizon for any sign a ship was coming. Gesturing at the crowd that had amassed, “No, we shouldn't give the Dockmaster any more trouble than we already have.”

“Sir!” The sergeant saluted, making ready to return to their post.

“But.” I continued, and the sergeant returned to attention, twirling on the heel of their boot to face me again. “Tell the Dockmaster their marines can clear out the crowd if it’s causing trouble, and if they face any push back, he can invoke my authority.”

“Sir!” This time, the sergeant sprinted off into the Dockmaster’s building that connected the base of each of the towers.

I checked my pocket watch again, almost a quarter past noon, and caught in my peripheral vision, marines ordering the crowd to disperse. I sighed, my posture turning to a small slouch, and turned to watch as most of the crowd faded away, leaving only dockworkers, crews, and passengers milling about. I could expect to be chewed out upon returning home, I’m sure, and with that thought considered how long I wanted to linger here.

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Silva

I had lingered long enough and dipped below the clouds again, following my insistent crow.. It was a decent bit past high noon, and by some fortune, the crowds had to disperse, directed by soldiers away from the docks and towers. This time, there were two sets of soldiers, those in red uniforms and another set in navy blue uniforms. With my curiosity about Prydannian military branches piqued, my time to arrive had come. I diverted off towards the mountains and lake, following a treeline before shooting up right to the edge of dock nine. With my broom level with the dock and out of sight, I stepped, for the first time, into a world unknown to me. I marched forward, the click of my boot heels announcing my arrival, each click turning another head of the guardsmen that had held back the crowd, until I stopped a few feet before the carriage and the waiting soldier, who turned to greet me.

“Apologies if I’ve arrived a little behind schedule.” I curtsied and tipped my head forward, so that the brim of my hat blocked my eyes. I peered through its weave to get some early insight into the soldier's reaction. She took the chance to scan across the faces of her men and the horizon beyond, surely looking for the method of my arrival.

“It’s quite alright,” her voice was cheery and confident. “I’m sure the journey up here is no easy task.

I smirked from behind my veil, thinking to myself of my leisurely journey hopping from island to island. “It’s my first time coming to Prydannia,” I said, raising my head and giving her a once-over. My eyes were immediately drawn to her waist, from which hung two unexpected items: a saber on one side, and a leather pouch with the handle of a handgun peaking out on the other.

“Let me be the first to welcome you then,” She bowed low, one leg crossed behind the other. “Lieutenant Shaela of House MacCrow.” She rose from the bow and extended a white gloved hand, her palm facing upward, “To whom do I have the pleasure?”

I hadn’t expected to be greeted by the noblewoman herself. I grasped her hand in my own black leather-gloved hand and shook it firmly, being sure to make eye contact. The gesture startled her a little, and we both took a step back after I let go. “Silva, Representative of the Mistborn Witches,” my eyes darted from hers down to her weapons and back up again, “the pleasure is mine.”

Her eyes traced my gaze to her waist. “Sergeant!” Shaela commanded, and one of the other soldiers ran over. She removed the saber and gun from her belt, extended them to the sergeant, and issued another order, “Have a runner return these to my estate.”

“Sir!” The sergeant saluted and ran back to join his men, passing off the weapons.

“Thank you for the gesture, but it was no problem.” I protested, half relieved at the removal of the weapons, and half embarrassed at how easily she picked up on it.

“They’re just for show, part of the uniform, really. Please don’t hesitate to ask for any other accommodations. You are a welcome guest.” Shaela swept her hand across her body, extending it back towards the carriage, “After you.”

I followed her gesture and stepped into the carriage. We had similar wagons and carriages back home, none this fancy, but what was particularly peculiar was the lack of a horse or ox out front to move it. Instead, a mess of wooden planks faceted together by iron bolts and clamps sat unmoving in front of us. I seated myself inside, facing forward in the small cabin, and Shaela followed me in, seating herself across from me. As soon as she had secured the door shut behind us, we lurched into motion. “What a strange carriage.” I had to raise my voice to get over the clattering of wood and iron that echoed from head of us.

“One of our craftsmen came up with them amidst a crisis,” Shaela flicked a latch on the door’s small window, and slid it upwards to open it. “Go ahead and take a peek.”

I leaned my head out of the window as much as I could, removing my hat and holding it in my lap so it wouldn’t get in the way and scanned first across the crowd that hurried along to get a glimpse at who the MacCrows had invited into their city, and then to the mechanism that propelled us along. The machine whirled and galloped ahead, pulling us along less like a team of horses, instead more like a giant skittering spider. I pulled my head back in, breathing deeply with my eyes closed to try to see the world again as Mother did. I brushed my hand over the velvet-covered seat, trying to focus past the clatter of the mechanism, and instead on how wooden the arms felt. To where they had come from, which forest or grove. To the process that turned them from raw lumber to precise pieces not yet fused together by the artisan behind this carriage. The world slowly faded away around me. It was just me, the lieutenant, and the carriage plotting along through an empty expanse. But instead of being told an arboreal tale, my senses were overwhelmed by static. Turbulent magic flowed in and around our little vehicle, forming cracks of lightning and violent currents that raged behind my eyelids. Startled, my eyes shot open and met Shaela’s. She had been talking during my mediation, gazing out of the window as we moved through the city. “Installing sewage systems across the whole of Prydannia would have taken too long, so these,” she threw her hand up, thumb pointed behind her to where the locomotive of our carriage would be, “these ended up being the solution.”

“Is that so?” I feigned curiosity, still a little shaken. “How do you handle the sewage now?”

“Since the horse manure crisis is over, we could take our time installing gutters and drains and whatnot across the city one block at a time.” Shaela elaborated. “The capital has been done for some time now, I can’t speak for the other cities’ progress.”

I let out a small sigh of relief. My question hadn’t been something she had already explained. “So you’ve doubly solved your horse problem then. Impressive. I’d love to learn more about the creator of, I’m sorry, what did you call this type of carriage again?”

“Crawlers, and we’ll have plenty of time tomorrow for any sightseeing you’d like to do when I give you a tour of the city.” Shaela’s gaze snapped back to mine, and she shifted to fix her posture. “I trust you had a chance to go over the itinerary.”

“Of course. I hope my tardiness didn’t interfere too much with today’s schedule.” I replied in an even tone, matching Shaela’s shift from an enthusiastic storyteller to a stoic diplomat.

“Then you’ll know that I left us plenty of time for you to settle in before dinner,” Shaela glanced downwards at my satchel, “and you seemed to have packed light, which will make up for any time we lost.” She paused for a moment and passed her thumbs over one another. “I planned to host you for several days, will you be alright with just what you brought?”

“So long as I have a place to do washing and a bed to sleep in.” I nodded, letting Shaela fill in the rest, to which she returned her own nod.

Focusing back on the matters and hand and freeing myself from the distraction of the crawler, I got a good look at the lieutenant. Her deep red uniform was pristine. The only wrinkles apparent were those around her belt and waist, since she was sitting. Above her breast pocket were several metallic pins. I assumed those denoted her rank or accomplishments. Her hair was pulled back into a tight, low bun, which sat below her grey wedge cap. Not a single loose hair broke free, pins keeping it all neatly together. Her high cheekbones, pointed chin, and well-defined jaw were a sharp contrast to the wide eyes that matched her chestnut hair and paired well with her round nose that informed her jovial visage. She wore a slight smile, and her eyes had locked onto whatever was happening outside the carriage window. I followed them, leaning a little to get a better view. “Seems we’ve drawn quite the crowd. Do most dignitaries get this much fanfare?” I settled back into my seat.

“No.” Shaela quickly replied, then jumped to correct herself, sighing, “Or, well, yes, but unusually we have an established relationship already, so they can enter via either the military or the castle docks to avoid any hassle.” Shaela dropped from her perfect posture to lean on one arm, rubbing her temples. “I had petitioned for their use, but there were...” her face contorted as she looked for the right words, “some unforeseen hurdles. I’ll be sure that you are permitted to use them, should you or any of your kin visit”

Shael’s openness caught me by surprise. “Right. Of course,” I replied to show my sympathy, “It has been a very long time since we’ve visited. It’s not too surprising our rules of conduct may have been lost.” The first letter had sounded urgent, or I had thought so, and Shaela’s frustration reinforced that assumption. “For the Kingdom to reach out, I must ask: are things well in the Skylands?”

Shaela’s already large eyes nearly doubled in size. She cleared her throat and put up a friendly, smiling mask once more, “I mean no disrespect, but I think that discussion is best suited for dinner.”

“Of course.” I lowered my head in apology.

We trundled along for some time, the crowds ebbing and flowing alongside us in the hopes of seeing what all the commotion was about, before reaching an increase in the subtle incline the city had. A small window in the boards behind Shaela slid open. “We will arrive shortly, Miss MacCrow.” The driver’s eyes were all I could see as he tilted back to speak to the lieutenant.

Shaela took a deep breath, “Thank you,” and the sound of the crawler out front slowed until we eventually stopped. Taking another deep breath, Shaela locked eyes with me, “Shall we?”