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24th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the First Year of King Feyaz’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year

Tradition is a love and respect of the past,

and defiant ignorance can be much the same.

Contentedness is a gratitude for what is in the present,

and complacent slothfulness can be much the same.

Hope is a desire and yearning for the future,

and ungrateful greed can be much the same.

From ‘Sayings of Saint Wōde’, Order of Loss, Written by Saint Wōde in the Unreckoned Years

Mavis steers The Painful Lady frightfully close to the edge of that ancient wonder, the Flower. None of the crew balks at the daring maneuver or the imminent danger, they all have loss weighing too heavily on their minds. No one could have survived long in the churning waters below, even Harlan. The entire crew has thrown themselves into the task of manning the ship, following and preempting Mavis’s orders. The Big Man has returned to the crow’s nest, and the rest of the crew remains on the main deck. The Lady begins to lean heavily to the port side as they sail a precarious line across the inner swirls of the Flower. Benafield is forced to place his feet on the sidewall of the nest to keep from falling out. The rushing noise of falling water has made it difficult to hear Mavis’s calls, but the singular mindset of the crew affords them an intense focus. Back in the crow's nest of the King’s Haul, Petsune can hear Officer Wittkinson call out to the helmsman. “Take the ship as far to starboard as our leash allows.”

Soon, Pet begins to faintly hear what the crew of the Lady hears; a rushing noise, like a strong wind blowing across his ears, but distant. When he looks out from the crow’s nest, off the portside prow of the ship, he can see it in full: the Flower. It is an immense and awe-inspiring sight, terrifying in its scale. A huge swirling pool of ocean that dips lower, as though there were a valley in the sea, until it falls away into blackness at the unfathomable center. It is probably hundreds of towers wide, making the Painful Lady look like a twig about to be sucked down into a washtub drain. Clouds of mist rise out from the center, hardly visible in the darkening dusk. Petsune shudders as he takes it all in. It does resemble a flower — an enormous and living flower that hungers to consume the entire ocean, churning and devouring anything unfortunate enough to be caught in the currents.

Ahead, Mavis holds the Lady’s ship wheel tightly and can feel the surge of speed as they ride the currents northward alongside the dark pit that is the center of the whirlpool. Petsune watches The Painful Lady from his vantage point. It is so horrifyingly close to the center, being pulled toward that bottomless pit — toward the ravenous mouth of the Flower. The sails and mast of the Lady have begun tilting further toward the swirling whirlpool as it speeds across the inner layers. The Lady rides the current across, picking up momentum and drawing the rope tighter between the ships: the King’s Haul behind and to the east of the Painful Lady. Petsune cannot see his face, but Mavis stares ahead, undaunted, holding the Lady in an unyielding northward line. Mavis thinks he sees white flashes in his peripheral vision, but he doesn’t spare them a glance or a thought, instead fixating completely on the task of saving the rest of the crew. Aboard the Haul, Chapel and Wittkinson both feel the shifting in momentum: from drifting to the west and into the Flower, to being discernibly pulled ahead to the north. The entire crew of the Haul feels the sudden tug and Wittkinson shouts orders to the crew. The momentum won’t last long, and they need to utilize it.

Mavis continues to pilot the Lady in a straight northward line, passing the zenith of possible momentum and beginning to fight the Flower’s raw strength. Now the current works against Mavis, dragging at the side of the Lady’s hull and pulling them to the southwest. The rope that binds the two ships has become the slightest bit slack as the Haul continues to ride the momentum of the current and the Lady’s pull. Wittkinson calls to the helmsman. “Hard to port!”

Suddenly, the King’s Haul veers violently off to the west, becoming in effect, a swinging pendulum. They follow the currents west across the top of the Flower, using the Painful Lady as the rigid point that they attempt to swing around. Mavis can feel the sudden drag on the Lady’s momentum and Bor shouts out from on the main deck. “We’re losing speed.”

Chapel, Petsune, and Wittkinson find themselves sailing almost directly at the center of the Flower. They sail closer and closer, even nearer than Mavis had. Petsune is laying down on the wall of the crow’s nest to keep from falling out. He stares down into that gluttonous swirl in the ocean, watching untold amounts of water pour down into whatever unknown place lies below. The King’s Haul drifts closer to the center while The Painful Lady struggles to remain the rigid point that they swing around. The Big Man calls down from the crow’s nest in a loud voice. “Aye, Mavis! We’re being pulled back!”

Mavis begins to lose hope, seeking to drive the Lady on by sheer force of will. The King’s Haul sails right next to the Flower's all-consuming center, and Petsune cannot look away from the gaping mouth of it. He is nearly lying down, forced to stare into the impermeable depths of the roiling sea below. He completely forgets himself and the Lady, frozen in terror at the sight below. Deep in the black water, eerie white flashes from storm squid can be seen as they swim and hunt. The depths light up for incredible singular moments and Petsune holds his breath as those moments pass. Water crashes against the Haul and surges up the side of the starboard hull. Petsune stares on, silently petitioning the Saints for safety in the face of such beautiful danger. He watches, awe-struck, as the storm squid flash and swim inside the yawning maw. He can see the looming shadows through the wall of water on the distant side, the bright white flashes silhouetting the squid and their prey.

The Painful Lady has ceased struggling and begun to be pulled backward by the weight of the Haul. Mavis silently bows his head, accepting that he tried his best, but that it wasn’t enough. Just then, he feels a cool breeze on his neck, causing him to look up at the sails. They billow out and fill with wind, causing the ship to stop being pulled. Suddenly able to fight the current, Mavis yells out at the wind and the Saints. “Delód’s breath, blow! Come on!”

The Lady begins to gain ground and sail away from the Flower. In the dark, they push ahead with only gritted teeth and determination as their companions. At the same time, The Kings Haul makes a slow curving turn, keeping the tether taut and riding the swirling current as long as possible. Petsune feels the Haul turn and he watches the whirlpool grow further away as the mast begins to tip back into an upright position. Pet watches the Flower as it is left slowly behind them, unable to take his eyes off its majesty. A cold breeze fills their sails, and they sail northward. Petsune can see The Painful Lady off the starboard side, a darker shadow on the sea amid lesser dark shades. The cold wind gives both ships just enough of a boost to fight the clawing currents.

Without ceremony or pomp, both ships pull far enough away from the Flower that they exit the noticeable swirling currents. Wittkinson’s crew begins whooping and shouting as the discernible ripples of the sea recede behind them. The crew of the Lady sail into the calmer waters without celebration. Instead, they loosen their clenched jaws and find themselves feeling defeated, despite their incredible feat. It is rare that a ship strays close to the Flower, let alone the stunt they just pulled. The Haul begins to move at a normal pace, no longer facing the drag of grasping water. Wittkinson looks to Chapel and claps him on the shoulder. “It worked… I can’t believe it really worked. My crew and I owe you our lives.”

Chapel doesn’t look at Wittkinson or smile, responding in empty emotionless tones. “That’s Mavis for you, he could sail a stick through a storm.”

Wittkinson looks at Chapel more critically. “Don’t worry about the desertion charges just yet, we still have a long way to go.”

Still Chapel doesn’t look at him and responds with only a small amount of effort and attention. “No, no I’m not too worried.”

Wittkinson continues to stare at the side of Chapel’s face. “Something wrong, Captain?”

“I don’t know yet,” Chapel responds forlornly, “but I aim to find out.”

Wittkinson follows Chapel’s distant eastern gaze and finds the Lady at the other end. He speaks more softly this time. “I understand, Captain. And I believe you have earned the right to stay aboard your own vessel.”

Finally, Chapel breaks from his morose stare and looks to Wittkinson. Chapel smiles and lightly pats Wittkinson’s shoulder. “I would greatly appreciate a return to my ship, Witty. Thank you.”

Wittkinson nods in return and says, “I think I should be thanking you, but if you ever call me ‘Witty’ again, I will have you thrown off my ship.” Chapel gives the slightest of winks and walks away from Witty, speaking over his shoulder. “It’s not as bad you’d think — keelhauling.”

Petsune is still in the crow’s nest, facing the ship's stern and watching the receding swirls of water. He breathes a sigh of relief as the Flower shrinks steadily into the wake of the ship. He prays audibly to all the Saints and vows to give alms at whatever Mass they end up at next. Pet begins cautiously climbing down the ratlines and finds Chapel below him, leaning against the mast. When he jumps down and approaches, he knows immediately something is wrong. There is some kind of air, or attitude, that Chapel usually has that’s faded or been lost. Chapel walks over to the railing, and they both breathe deep sighs but neither of them speak. The entire ordeal with the Flower feels like it was both an eternity and a heartbeat. Chapel speaks after some time. “Wittkinson is letting us go back to our ship.”

Petsune replies hesitantly, sensing there is something else going on. “That’s good… I’ve missed everyone.”

“Yeah, me too,” then Chapel says, almost despondently, “but I think something has happened. I have a bad feeling…”

Petsune has never seen this side of Chapel, and he wishes nothing more than to be able to banish it — to cheer him up. Instead, he simply stands at the railing with Chapel, the two of them watching the endless horizon that now lies ahead off the bow. Their course has been changed by the Flower, and now the ship points northwest. They must be in the Slick Sea, named for all of the red whale oil trails that make the water slick and shimmery. If the Flower turned them around as far as Petsune thinks, it means they are facing Broadfell Keep to the North, and it means that he is the closest he can ever remember being to the Coldor Cleave. Pet stares out to the northwest, absentmindedly fiddling with his Deepblood talisman which he wears around his neck in a pouch. He expects to feel some type of longing for the Cleave, but his gaze is drawn over to The Painful Lady northeast of them, and he finds himself longing for that ship and that family instead.

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