And The World Shifts

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== Summary ==
== Full Text ==
Sean Dansson: The ice was finally melting along the sluggish river Ván, the frozen chunks slipping away into the dark water’s current. The air tingled with the return of spring and the tiny port nestled within the river’s curve was finally showing its first signs of excited restlessness. There was a buzz in the air, talk of travel and trade, and of preparing for the upcoming fishing season. On the very edge of the river’s bank away from the main village squatted a sturdy hut, its dark brown walls tricky to find among the currently-dead trees. The sun rose on its murky windows and worn steps, well-trodden by the same pair of feet for years. A few beached boats rested beside it in a kind of makeshift shipyard, waiting to be mended and set free.
The thought of it made the old man, miles down the river in his own less-than-reliable craft, quite homesick.
The trees were different; the smell of moss rather than familiar bracken coating the air, released by the rising sun, the water a milky emerald rather than deep gray. He flexed his aging, weathered fingers over the oars and scratched the scruff on his jawbone idly. He’d been rowing for quite a while. He should come ashore and find food and rest soon.
The Empress: The embers crackled in the mid afternoon sunlight, warming a small cauldron filled with a peculiar mixture of bottom feeders and dragon-scale dust. Even more peculiar was the woman stirring the mixture. Her hands turned to leather from long working hours, hair dreaded and filled with beads. She held a lopsided grin as she hummed an ancient, long forgotten, tune. 
Her eyes turned to the river passing before where she made camp in her caravan. An elderly man was drawing nearer from upstream. It’s been a long while since I’ve had company… What has Providence brought to us today?
She moved pushed the locks of her sideburns behind her ear and then waved to the old man. “Fine day we’re having, isn’t it?” Her voice thick with an obviously foreign accent to these parts. 
Sean Dansson: Sean tilted his head at the new voice, spying the woman and drawing one of his oars in, the left one carving a lazy path nearer to the bank. “Couldn’t be grander!” he said in a cheerful brogue, waving to her across the water with a free hand. He tilted his cap up to get a better look at her. “Havin’ the mornin’ meal, miss?”
The Empress: The woman gave a wry smile, “It’s a tad late in my day to be calling it a morning meal, but a meal nonetheless. Would you care to join me? I have enough for the both of us, in exchange for any news of the world nearby.” She made a slight beckoning motion as she spoke. 
Sean Dansson: With another gentle shove, the weary rowboat scraped up against the short bank and the man leapt onto land with surprising agility, taking a hold of the rope tied to the bow and securing it to a firmly rooted tree, tying an experienced knot. “I’d’a be quite rude ta not, when such a fine lady invites me so.” He looped the strap of his pack around his fingers and made his way towards her, tipping his cap. “Sean of Salmon Port, at your service.”
The Empress: “Sean.” She gave a short bow of her head. “You can call me Zol. Now come, rest and I will serve you up.” She made a motion around the cauldron, adding spices and final ingredients before placing an ornately carved stone bowl in front of Sean. “Careful, my dish has a wicked tongue. Not for the feint of heart.” Her eyes sparkled a bit as she jested. 
Sean Dansson: He put a hand over his heart in mock offense as he sat, laying his bag at his feet. “Beyla’s brigands, you underestimate me, madam.” Taking a bravely hearty helping of the dish, his eyes widened and he coughed at the unexpected strength of the flavor; it was like nothing he was used to, even in his homeland. Eyes watering, he grinned apologetically at Zol. “Was not…expecting that.”
The Empress: Zol laughed, “you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
After the meal Zol walked to the river side and washed her stone bowls. She spoke to Sean over her shoulder. “I don’t know if you’re the one to ask, but, have you noticed any strange sightings or people around these parts? Outside of myself that is?”
Sean Dansson: Sean stretched his hands behind his head and leaned back against a stout tree, lifting an eyebrow. “It’d be in the eye of the beholder, what’s strange, what isn’t…I did see a very interesting breed of cat a few days ago, the confused lassie. Six legs. Six! Gods know what befell her. Ah, and a fine troupe of traveling actors from across the Sea of Sand, they were grand to be around.” He paused for a moment, gaze unfocusing into the distance. “Ah, yes, and consorting with the finest of nobility, albeit the strangest.” He chuckled, his tone vaguely dark. “Now they…they were a mysterious lot.”
The Empress: “You’ve piqued my interest, sir.” She leaned in closer to Sean, resting her elbows on her crossed knees. “Nobility is rare in the midlands, very few of the lands rely on a monarchy in this age…” Zol chewed the inside of her lip thinking back to years before. 
Sean Dansson: Another mysterious smile graced his face. “Indeed. Even rarer that so many of them were related–and so old.” Sean tsk-ed a bit. “So high and haughty were they; you’d have thought they were descended from a mighty empress. I’m sure none of them have ruled anythin’ bigger than an estate, as you said.”
The Empress: “Do you have any idea where these strange folk were heading? I should very much like to meet them.” She gave a small start of a laugh, thinking how ironic it was if the fisherman before her knew exactly what he was saying. If her suspicions were correct, that is. 
Sean Dansson: Scratching the back of his neck, he shrugged. “Many o’ them are scattered. This way an’ that, scouring the South, mostly. It was hard to get straight answers outta them, to be perfectly honest. I did hear of a celebrated Viceroy passin’ by the Southern capital, at least. Perhaps that’ll give you a start.”
The Empress: “A thousand blessings and thanks to you, Sean.” Zol reached into a leather pouch on her side. “Here,” Zol produced a small sealed envelope, “if you see any of them again in the near future give this to them.” She then reached in another pouch tied around her waste. “And have some of my spices for your own dishes, for the trouble.” She gave a sly wink before standing. “I have to end our meal here though, this changes things.”
Sean Dansson: Sean accepted the envelope and stood as well, dipping his head. “But of course, my lady Zol. However I may be of service!” He stepped back and returned to his boat, whistling a jolly tune and casting off again, with one small glance back at the woman on the bank.
What a strange person.
Category:The Empress
Category:Sean Dansson
Category:Legacy
Category:Events