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“Land…,” Gale said as the yellow line on the horizon became more and more pronounced. “It’s really land.” Tears sprang from his eyes, dripping onto his cracked and tanned hands. “It’s really, really land…”
Breeze patted Gale’s back. “Thanks for the ride,” he said, looking behind himself at the five armored figures sitting atop a leviathan skeleton. “I’m not sure how much longer he would’ve lasted.”
“Don’t thank us,” Charlotte said. “It was Mistle who brought you two along. I just wish she weren’t so … free. Abandoning us after setting up that current, what’s she doing that’s so important?”
Abel snorted. “If you really were thankful, you wouldn’t be keeping so many secrets from us,” he said. “We’ve been drifting together for over ten days, but I still only know your names.”
“Ah?” Breeze tilted his head. “Didn’t you hear a lot of our conversations? How come you didn’t pick anything up?”
“Your conversations were the same exact exchanges at the same time every day!” Abel said and clasped his sword’s hilt. He exhaled and released his hand when the other four members of the Fangs of Capitis stared at him. He lifted his helmet and spat into the see before glaring at his teammates. “What? Was I wrong?”
“Well, the contractor’s a bit addled,” Charlotte said with a sigh. “We don’t know how long they’ve been lost at sea. It might take a while for him to recover, if ever.”
Sobbing sounds pierced through the sound of lapping waves. “It’s really, really, really land…”
“See?” Charlotte asked and shook her head at the crying pope. “Look at the poor man. Cut him some slack.”
“Whatever,” Abel said and lay down. He placed both arms under his head and stared up at the sky. He closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose, listening to the sounds of the ocean. A sorrowful hum drifted into his ears, causing him to furrow his brows. “Are the whales singing?”
Gale’s sobbing figure froze. His eyes widened as his hands trembled, his face staring at the yellow line on the horizon. “No…. No…. No!”
“Is he alright?” the Fang with the rifle asked Breeze. “We’re almost there? Why’s he panicking?” He tilted his head and clapped his hand onto Breeze’s shoulder. The blob of darkness didn’t respond. “Hey. You two alright?”
“Hush,” Charlotte said, turning her head to the side. “Do you hear that?”
Thank the mistress for her grace.
“What?” the Fang with the rifle asked. “Did that come from ashore? Those aren’t whales, Abel.”
Thank the mistress for her grace.
“It sounds like a chant,” Charlotte said. “Like the ones the holy dragon churches use when they’re holding mass.”
Thank the mistress for her grace.
“It sounds more like brainwashing to me,” the Fang with the whip said. “Who’s this mistress?” He turned his head towards Gale, who buried his face into his hands and screamed. “Hey…”
Thank the mistress for her grace.
“How loud are they that we can hear them from here?” Abel asked as he sat up. He shielded his visor from the sun, peering at the shore. White, blue, and red dots were peppered on the shore. “Is it a religious ceremony? Do the fishmen hold those?”
Thank the mistress for her grace!
The Fang with the axes slapped his thigh. “It’s a work song!” he said and removed his helmet. He cupped his hand over his ear, pointing it at the shore. “When I used to work on the farm with my family, we’d sing to pass the time. My father would say a line, then we’d chant our line back at him.”
Thank the mistress for her grace!
“It’s getting a lot louder,” Charlotte said as she removed her helmet as well. She bit her lower lip. “How many people are there? I thought the shores were supposed to be the least populated regions next to the frostlands. If only Mistle were here.”
Thank the mistress for her grace!
“It’s them, isn’t it?” Breeze asked Gale. “Those skeletons I tried to avoid. What did we do to deserve this?”
“You know what’s going on?” Abel asked.
Thank the mistress for her grace!
“When we were still drifting around,” Breeze said. “We encountered a galleon made of singing skeletons. They definitely established themselves on that shore.”
“Are you stupid?” Abel asked. “Skeletons don’t sing. And they can’t swim either! They can’t stay afloat without flesh.”
Breeze pointed at the leviathan skeleton underneath the Fangs. “Look at what you’re riding on.”
Thank the mistress for her grace!
“Mistle enchanted it,” Charlotte said. “Abel’s right. A normal skeleton can’t swim, never mind forming a galleon by working together.”
Breeze snorted. “You’ll see when we get there. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
The Fang with the axes made a shushing noise. “I think I can hear the leader’s verses. Quiet down, please.”
“You’re enjoying this,” Charlotte said.
“Sometimes, I miss the simple times with my family,” the Fang said and shrugged.
Raise your shovels, ready your seeds.
Thank the mistress for her grace!
The fish are hungry, sate their needs.
Thank the mistress for her grace!
We don’t fight; we farm the land.
Thank the mistress for her grace!
Life is boring; the food is bland.
Thank the mistress for her grace!
The Fang with the axes smiled. “See? It’s a work song.”
Wait for the day when we can kill!
Thank the mistress for her grace!
Laugh as their heads roll down the hill!
Thank the mistress for her grace!
Our food is bland, but blood tastes sweet!
Thank the mistress for her grace!
Trample the world beneath our feet!
Thank the mistress for her grace!
“Those are some bloodthirsty farmers,” Charlotte said with a pale face.
The Fang with the axes scratched his head. “Maybe we should prepare to face some undead when we land,” he said. “You know, just in case.”
“Yeah,” Charlotte said and put her helmet back on. “Just in case.”
The Fang with the rifle took out some bullets. He placed them into his gun and propped the barrel up along his body before nodding. “Just in case.”
Abel snorted. “Look at all of you, panicking over some rumors of skeletons,” he said. “We’re the Fangs of Capitis, the strongest party on the continent! So what if they’re actually skeletons who can speak and sing? Which they can’t. But if they could, it wouldn’t mean anything.”
Thank the mistress for her grace!
Gale let out a whimper.
Six paragraphs down, (He lifted his helmet and spat into the see before glaring at his teammates. “What? Was I wrong?”)
“See” should be “sea”.