The Needle (Summit Lore)

[Long]

The Needle

Ikan

(Artwork from the internet because I am an art noob)

Ikan weaved. The chaos of yelling and bantering did a number on the man. He decided to sit back, and knit his findings. Grabbing two threads, one of deep violet and the other a soft red, he stitched the start of his mission.


High King, I report to you my arrival to the harbor of Yukrovia. The weather brings good promise for an excellent mission. With this stitch ~ I, Ikan, shall begin my reportings on the city. Glory to the Vantian Empire.


Tying the two threads together with his needle, he sighed and sat back into his pillows and blankets. Ikan felt out of place compared to the rest of the crew. Most of them didn’t even own a pair of shoes, a few without a shirt. The weather quickly got brutal as they crossed the Dunsmoor coast - greeting them with a biting cold wind. He tapped his knees mindlessly, bored with the whole voyage. That made him smile slightly - a man his age - still unable to sit still. ‘Well,’ he thought to himself ‘might as well do something.’ He got up and rolled his scarfs into a nice bundle, then made his way to the helm of the ship.


The captain of the ship bellowed out orders from above to the merchants and their slaves below. He was a very noticeable man - Vantian maybe? Tattoos everywhere and the stereotypical ‘don’t mess with me’ attitude, what was his name again? Ikan pursed his lips - he didn’t seem to remember a thing about him other than the silly squiggles on his arm. He shrugged and joined him by the wheel.


“Ah, isn’t it beautiful? The city of Yukrovia - I read quite a bit on their culture on our voyage - most interesting!” Ikan said, staring ahead to the town.


“Bah, why anyone would want to live in such a frigid place is beyond me. You should take your leave old man, my crew is getting worried about your...antics.” the man spoke with a thick northern Vantian accent.


Ikan frowned and poked the man’s arm who merely sighed, “That is no way to speak to your elders, squiggle-man.”


“Squiggle-man?”


“Your arms, boy. If there is a strange one here - it is certainly you.”


The man chuckled and shook his head. “I will be so glad to be free from your presence, merchant. Go get your girly strings packed, you leave soon.”


Ikan didn’t bother to respond to the sailor, twirling a needle between his fingers. Now that the captain did mention it, he did get strange looks from the crew like he was some sort of Salvager. He grinned and bared his teeth to one heading to the stern and hissed, getting the man to yelp and jog ahead. Yup. All shall fear the girly string man.


“Ikky,” a feminine voice said behind him. “there you are. Four be damned - we need to get packed, lets’ go!”


He turned to see Yaysha, his wife, carrying a large carpet under her arm, panting and exhausted. “You know, Ikky isn’t the most affectionate thing to call a man.” he said, wagging the needle towards her. She simply shook her head and tossed the rug.


“Come. I feel we aren't exactly welcome here. Let’s find somewhere to rest and then set up shop on the decks.”


“Always so serious, aren't you dear?


“Only because if I wasn’t, you would be dead by now.”


“Don’t you worry - I can weave myself out of everything!”


To that, she only glared at him, but finally laughed. “I hate you sometimes.”
Ikan grinned and followed her to their quarters, carrying his yarn bundles over his head. He almost looked like a circus act, with all the colored streams and metal clinking flying around his head.


His room on board wasn’t the most exciting thing. Very dull and bland. Plain sanded wood and the bare essentials for the journey. For crying out loud - they didn’t even give him an extra pillow! He stitched a small ‘O’ in a piece of fabric. Yaysha sighed ahead of him.


“You can’t just use your job as a way to complain about personal problems, dear.”


“This is not a personal matter! A craftsman without his comforts will slack and produce poor cloth!”


She shook her head and opened the door, motioning for him to go in. “I feel you already annoy His Majesty enough with your rants on how the birds yell at you every morning Ikky. Don’t make yourself seem more like an idiot please.” Ikan just grinned and walked in, greeting him were his children around the dinner table arguing with each other.


“Where’s Sulin and Baros?” he asked confused.


“They both are in their own quarters I believe - had to take care of some shipment details.”


“Ahh….so boring adult stuff.”


He only got a flat stare for that. Oh well.


The first of his kids to notice him was Aro - sitting in the backdrop with his face buried in a book. He simply nodded to his father, who returned the silent greeting. The rest of them were in a heated debate about Gods knows what. He sat down next to them and let out a sharp exhale. Silence filled the room. Opening one eye and scanning the room, all of his children except Aro looked at him, fidgeting.


“Now now, I know you are all excited about Yukrovia. However, we should first focus on the plan at hand.” he scanned the room, then focused on Myu. “Report.” Ikan said dryly. Myu, the oldest of his children, always seemed the most like his father. He had a very strict face and actions to beat, yet could flip on a dime. He began in a hushed tone.


“The village...if you can even call it that...is rather brutal to those first arriving. I’ve overheard many of the crew saying us ‘sandfolk’ won’t last hardly a good week in town. They are pushing for new markets and exotic trade - which could help us to easily establish a network in Yukrovia. However, the commoners of the city are irritated with the whole election. We will most likely have to deal with more than just odd glances and grunts.


Ikan nodded thoughtfully. This will be difficult, especially since they couldn’t draw too much attention to themselves. They would have to deal with, and act like the commoners to thrive. He nodded to Myu, then at Shira to continue.

“As requested...we have located some good starting locations,” she began. “the most easy way to begin would obviously be the tavern. Unfortunately there is only one in Yukrovia - The Blue Flag.”


“What seems to be the issue with that?” Ikan pressed.


“With the boom and focus of new trade, and the gathering of many nations to this summit - getting a room will be a task on its own. We have to get off this ship now and get a room.” Everyone in the room exchanged glances.


“Shira it’s past midnight now.” Aro sighed.


“I already know that! But think about it - tavern keepers are usually awake, if we act fast we can easily take a room before the overcrowding.”


Ikan simply clapped his hands once, and stood up to walk out. No one made a peep except for the flipping pages of Aro’s book. Stepping outside he found both of his disciples - Sulin and Baros. Both Vantian of origin, possibly from the lower tribes - they were very loyal and good friends of his. They nodded to him, and Sulin spoke.


“We heard all that is needed, Ikan. The ship as already begun moving towards the docks at haste. Luckily it is dark enough that many won’t care much for our approach. Let’s hurry.”


The three of them marched down the halls of the ship, with his family following hastily behind. Opening the large wooden door to the deck - the sharp cold night air pinched his cheeks. Yukrovia in its glory shined in front of them. A small warm glow in a bowl of cool blues. Narrowing his eyes to avoid the snow - he left the ship. A small stout dockmaster met his gaze. He seemed exhausted and annoyed. This should go fun, they were fun enough as is to get permits…


“Hey Shenny lad - it’s past regular hours. Get back on your ship and wait for sunrise.” He said with a thick accent. Ikan simply stopped, then knelt down to face the man face to face with equal exhaustion.


“You must forgive us, sir.” he said - trying to mimic a poor old man. Gods he hated doing this. “...you see, my family is awfully weak when it comes to staying on the seas for so long. We simply wanted to book a room to rest was all.”


That only made the dockmaster look at him quizzically, yet less annoyed. “A Shen? Sea sick? I’m not buying it.” Rats, bastard! Of all excuses… The dockmaster chuckled and raised his hand to motion the guards - Ikan seized it, holding a large gem in his other hand, a glove of five sharp needles.


“Tavern. Now.” He said sternly. He could faintly smell the urine of the damned mans’ pants. Lovely. The dockmaster took the gem slowly, then backed off looking down. “Welcome to Yukrovia…” he said, defeated.


No one was out at this hour - but that didn’t mean people were asleep. Guards roamed and protected the large building built into the cliffside. That must be where Rurik and other notables were located….Ikan stitched another glyph into his scarf, hastily done but it would have to do. Most candles were lit inside the homes, and you could see faint silhouettes move out of view when they got close. His son was right...they really did not want them here. Thankfully, the tavern wasn’t much farther off.  Now the real job began.

-End of Part 1-

---

Hey there! Thanks for reading this lore. If you want to share your thoughts and help me improve as a writer, feel free to fill out this survey: 

Survey Link