Chương 59: A Genre Unto Itself

I've since done some more reading about the First Emperor of Stormvast." Jordan glanced over at Canyon sitting on the other side of the wagon. Only the top of her head—the part covered by her dark-gray headwrap—was visible above the cauldron-wheelbarrow contraption that separated the two passengers, making Jordan wonder for the umpteenth time why the woman had chosen to sit there of all places." Eh? You're gonna have to speak up. Can't hear you over all the rattling."

The 'carriage' was really more a tarped wagon used for transporting supplies or a squad of troops. It was open and breezy, appropriately so for traveling in the summer sun. It also made a lot of noise as it rolled across northern Featherift's rocky terrain." You're not getting it, Miss," Foxhill chimed in from the front of the wagon. Another advantage of the carriage's airy design—or perhaps a drawback, depending on who you asked—was that the driver could easily listen in on the passengers' conversation.

"What the Mister means is he wants you to sit closer. You know, so the two of you could really put your heads together on this."" No, I'm fine yelling," Canyon yelled. If she'd detected an ulterior insinuation behind Foxhill's words, she didn't acknowledge it.

"You should hear this too, Pathfinder. The better we all understand the task ahead of us, the smoother it'll go." Foxhill chuckled into the wind. Jordan sighed and waved for Canyon to go on. As he did, he could only stare at the hazy-pink rim of his cauldron—temporarily full until he found a way to unlock that second tier of its Vessel Capacity." Naturally," Canyon did go on, straining her voice to be heard, "I became curious about this concept of [Crossing the Void].

And as I dug deeper, what I'd once assumed to be a throwaway passage in an obscure travelogue became the common thread to a whole… genre of strange accounts about Zaul Wreathworn's life."" Genre?" Jordan parroted.

"Interesting word choice."" A deliberate word choice. You see, these stories are all told by commoners Zaul met in his younger days, years before he began his unification campaign. Each rather mundane on its own, perhaps. But together, they paint the picture of a young man who, for all intents and purposes, seemed to have dropped in from another world. Which gave all such stories a certain feel, shared among themselves but with none other—a genre unto itself." Jordan froze, hardly believing what he was hearing.

At the driver's seat, Foxhill stole a meaningful glance over one shoulder as he asked," And pray tell, Miss. How does a young man manage to seem like he dropped in from another world?"" There's the tale of a Basinsider fisherman who claimed to have once saved a young man from drowning—found clinging to driftwood all by his lonesome, leagues out from the nearest shore. When asked how he ended up there, the young man said nothing, leading the fisherman to assume that he was mute.

Based on official records from the time, there's strong evidence to suggest this young man to have been Zaul Wreathworn himself. We know he wasn't mute, so we can only assume that he didn't want to or couldn't answer the fisherman."" Couldn't?" Jordan parroted again, drawn in despite a growing sense of misgiving about the whole topic.

"You mean like he lost the capacity for speech, or…?"" Temporary shock from the near-drowning? Plausible, but there's an even simpler explanation. You see, I also found the personal writings of a Mistlorn priest from the same time period. Among the scrolls upon scrolls of frankly trite and self-absorbed philosophical musings, there's a narrative account of his having taken in a young, severely ill traveler.

Said traveler spent several months recuperating at the temple, and from the way the priest described him—"" Let me guess. He sounded exactly like Zaul Wreathworn."" Precisely, but that's not all. For the most fascinating aspect of this story is that the young man could barely speak a word of Mistlorn!

You see, before the promulgation of Stormvast's official and unified language, each of the nine kingdoms spoke its own dialect of the Common Speech—distinct and recognizable, but similar enough to each other to allow for everyday communication. But not so for this strange traveler who couldn't even explain to the priest which kingdom he hailed from."" Wait a second. You're telling me the First Emperor of Stormvast had to learn his own language from scratch?"

The top of Canyon's head disappeared behind the cauldron before reappearing a second later. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions." That is the conclusion I've reached, yes. It's also borne out by accounts from the royal court of Morrowtide—the kingdom that would go on to become our nation's capital. Multiple family members, personal attendants, and ministers attest to Zaul having changed seemingly overnight.

Different personality, different goals, and even a strange new accent not heard anywhere in the land. And keep in mind, this all happened before Stormvast had made any contact with foreigners." Canyon took a moment to catch her breath. All that yelling must have done a number on her throat, but the woman was nothing if not stubborn."

This transformation," she went on," historians attribute it to a divine intervention of sorts—Zaul Wreathworn receiving the Mandate of Heaven, thereby embarking on his grand task of unifying the nine kingdoms. Embodying a whole new persona, therefore, may have been one way to impose his newfound ambitions. But what if there's another explanation, outlandish though it may be?

What if Zaul Wreathworn was a Voidcrosser— having traveled through time, through space, perhaps even from another world—to usher in a new and unprecedented era for all Stormvast?" Intelligence DC 16: success Fuxi:"If you're wondering, the answer is no. We gods have never interfered with the course of history, though there have been more than a few occasions where we've been tempted to do so.

Whatever strange sea change came over this First Emperor, it had nothing to do with a Mandate—certainly not a heaven-sent one." Good to know, Jordan thought. He was even tempted to share this information with the group, but decided to hold his tongue. Just as well. Across the wagon, the Chronicler was far from finished." Then, of course, there's the matter of the cauldrons …" Jordan, already rapt with attention, sat up even straighter. From the corner of his eye, he saw Foxhill tense in his seat."

You see," Canyon said with obvious emphasis—a flair for the dramatic,"I found them."" You found them?" Jordan parroted a third time, utterly taken aback.

"What, like, all nine of them?" At this, Canyon poked her head into Jordan's line of sight, just enough to reveal a pair of eyes widened in surprise." I never said anything about there being nine cauldrons. How did you…?" Jordan clenched up, thinking he might have let slip more than he ought to have. But he unclenched just as quickly, deciding this was one cat that was never getting back inside the bag." Just a pet theory I have," he explained.

"Nine cauldrons for nine Gates of Ascension. The steps I have to go through for my Vessel to reach its full potential. It just seemed to fit."" I see." Canyon sat back down, taking her eyes with her.

"Well, you might be happy to learn, Jordan, that your theory is also corroborated by history. Well-hidden history, I might add, written in ciphers by a Sunsteader spy from inside the Morrowtider court. I admit that I needed a lot of help with this one. Madam Thousand's archaeology friends worked from sunrise to sunrise to decipher the journal, which speaks of a secret chamber in the palace where Zaul kept nine tripod cauldrons, all filled to the brim with mana.

The spy then arranged for reinforcements to help steal the cauldrons. Only, when the Sunsteader operatives returned to the chamber—"" The cauldrons were all gone," Jordan blurted, even as he reeled from another powerful wave of déjà vu.

"And no one ever found them again. Not even Zaul."" Y—yes," Canyon concurred, herself sounding more than a little taken aback.

"As far as I can tell, the Sunsteader spy's journal is the only account of the nine cauldrons anywhere. The cauldrons disappeared from Zaul's secret chamber, at the same time as they also faded from history."" Until—"" Until you, Jordan Yu. And until the missing cauldron from the burial site, one now presumably bound to Garuda Akula. And so… here we are." Canyon paused again. Jordan would've bet all the silvers to his name that this pause was for effect." I admit that none of this is hard evidence.

That all this could just be one big, bizarre coincidence. But… I don't think so. As a Chronicler, it's in my nature to find stories where others might see nothing. And this… this may well turn out to be the biggest story I've ever chased. I believe that you, Jordan, are in possession of an ancient artifact that inexorably links you to others in the same boat. And therein lies the rub.""

He who crosses the Void," Jordan quoted, surprised that he'd remembered the words so well,"must look within to see the shape of the world." Another nod from across the wagon." If you are to fulfill your Vessel's potential, Jordan, you must retrace Zaul Wreathworn's journey in your own way. You might not have drowned in the Basin Sea, but you did flounder in Featherift's great grass ocean—a start that mirrors the beginnings of Zaul's strange adventures.

A sworn soldier of the Imperial Army though you may be, it's clear to me that you were never meant to be bound to one creed—never meant to stay in this one province. You'll yet see the shape of the world, Jordan Yu, but should you ever be lost and rudderless… remember to look within." The Chronicler fell silent then, voice spent, story told yet unfinished. Neither the Pathfinder nor the Gatekeeper made any comment, each lost in his own thoughts.

And the world spread around them in all directions, even as horse hooves beat and wagon wheels rocked in time with the rhythm of the land.