The Storm's Eye

By John W Otte

Discover the secrets of Paine, the teacher's son who unexpectedly finds himself at the right hand of the King of the Xoniel Dynasty.

Paine would have been content to simply be a teacher in his father's Dynastic school in the small town of Breakwater. But his life takes an unexpected turn when he stumbles into a scandal involvin

• Language: English
• Publisher: John W. Otte
• Release date: Oct 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9798985810349

Book preview

Introduction

The night he was born, his father defied convention and culture by taking him out into the storm.

He would never admit to it in later years, especially not after his son had established himself in the palace. A proper image had to be maintained, after all. While what he did that night wasn’t illegal, it was frowned upon. But one night, his father had told him the entire story. His mother’s long labor, conveniently crescendoing as the storm rolled in. How as the midwives attended to Evva, Obba had wrapped him in a rough blanket and slipped out of their house. How Obba had nearly turned back so many times because of the wind and rain and thunder and lightning. But how Obba had finally found an open spot where the sky was clearly visible overhead. No small feat, given where they lived.

Then, gingerly, carefully, cooing comforting sounds to his newborn son, Obba laid the baby on the ground, pulling back the blanket so the storm could caress his tiny face. He howled. How he howled! Enough to drown out the storm itself. But that was good. That was expected. It was the way of their people, so long abandoned. Scream at the sky and let the gods hear the roar to know that another Kolvese stalks their land.

As the baby cried, Obba leaned in and whispered the ancient truths into his ear. Truths about the world. Truths about people. Truths that their own people had forgotten, for the Kolvese saw these ways as obsolete. Archaic. A relic to be spoken of with dismissive reverence. But not Obba. Never him.

The baby eventually stilled as the rain mingled with his tears and he listened to his father’s voice. And though others might deny it, Obba swore that his son began to whisper the truths back to him. How could he not? He was a child of destiny, one who would shape and then shake the world.

He was so certain of it, that the final thing Obba whispered was a supplication to the ancient gods and even the new ones his people worshiped, a wish for his son to speed his destiny. And while some might doubt that such a prayer could work, Obba was certain that it had.

By the time Obba returned home with the soaked baby, Evva was frantic. She upbraided him for his stupidity and recklessness, and Obba took the abuse with stoic silence. Why wouldn’t he? He had done right by his son.

Five days later, in accordance with the old customs, Obba bestowed another gift upon his child. A name. A proper name, one that had been passed through the family for generations. Each bearer held it dear, refined it, made it stronger and prouder. And Obba knew his son would do right by it.

And thus, the baby who screamed into the storm was given the name Paine.

PART I

1

Once again, Obba had chosen Paine to look for the truants. He claimed he always chose him for the job because he knew Paine wouldn’t miss anything important in the lessons. But Paine knew the truth. Obba always chose him because none of the other students would actually do the job. So once again, Paine set out from the Dynastic school, the third-hand digital scriber tucked under his arm. Not that he needed it. He had the list of missing students committed to memory. It was always the same six.

Pelarr, Okor, Ballast. Softglow and Errion. And, of course, Eyesore, he muttered as he left the school for the streets of Breakwater.

Sweat immediately erupted along his brow as the summer sun baked his skin. He fought the urge to swipe at his head. He was on official business for the school’s headmaster, after all. He must look the part. So he squared his shoulders and headed out, taking a right as he left the school’s property and headed for his first stop.

As he walked, he cataloged the people who streamed past him. Most of them were Grerid, which wasn’t a surprise. The Low River Province was their ancestral homeland. But he did spot a few fellow dark-skinned Kolvese, along with blue-tinged Weyfir and even what appeared to be a Maotoan. Weyfirs and even the Maotoan weren’t a surprise; Breakwater was situated on the Bearer’s Repose, a massive inland sea. Fishing and merchant vessels came and went constantly. Most residents of Breakwater worked the boats in some capacity. Many of them thought it a waste of time to send their kids to school. It was a minor miracle that more of Obba’s students didn’t slip away to start their careers on the open water more often. But the Dynasty had decreed generations ago that it desired an educated populace. Receiving an education was the first step toward citizenship and who didn’t aspire to that precious status? So most of the classroom were full every day.

This part of Breakwater was crammed with shops and restaurants that were trying desperately to appeal to the social elite. No one bought into the illusion. Most of the businesses’ patrons were lower class, ordinary people. But that didn’t stop restaurants from advertising that they sold the best daggerfish steaks, reminding passersby that it was King Girai’s favorite meal. Paine had no way of knowing if that was true, but enough restaurants and cafes proclaimed that, so maybe there was a modicum of truth to it.

Paine skirted around a cluster of rough-looking young men. A local gang, most likely, although he was surprised to see their leader walking with his arm around a young lady, maybe sixteen or seventeen. In spite of the heat, she wore long sleeves as well as mirrored eye coverings. She offered him a shaky smile, which he returned, but then they both went their ways. No one interacted with others in Breakwater unless they absolutely had to. Safer that way for everyone.

That group had come from Stumblers’ Row, a street jammed with bars and taverns. Paine hurried past them. At thirteen, he couldn’t drink. And given that the students he hunted were of similar ages, they shouldn’t be there either. While there was a long distance between shouldn’t and couldn’t, especially in Breakwater, but he knew his quarry; none of them would be in the bars.

He found Pelarr, Ballast, and Okor in a back alley stones-n-bones game. Not a surprise. The trio loved to hustle the sailors who simply couldn’t believe that three teenagers could take them all for their wages. But for someone who knew them, it wasn’t much of a surprise. Pelarr, the reptilian Plissk, had a disarming charisma that set everyone at ease. Ballast, the young Kolvese, was a mathematical genius, able to juggle the odds better than anyone Paine knew. And Okor was just big for his age and looked like he could destroy anyone who got upset at being ripped off. Thankfully, Okor knew better than to try to intimidate Paine. The moment they saw him, they gathered up their winnings and scurried out of the alley. Paine ignored the indignant cries of the trio’s victims. Maybe they would learn a valuable lesson as well.

Softglow and Errion would be harder to locate. The young lovers often found dark corners for quiet romantic moments. But like with the three gamblers, Paine knew where they liked to hide. They weren’t behind the Erratic Puppet, the Dunestrider theater. Nor were they tucked between the Plissk and Ixactl restaurants—a wise choice, given how rancid both establishments’ garbage smelled that morning. That meant that they were most likely secreted away in the Weyfir Cultural Outreach Center, a glorified collection of rare sea shells and objects made out of the same. Even on good days, the Center was deserted, the perfect place for an assignation, as Obba would put it. So Paine headed in that direction.

On the way, he spotted a disturbance moving down the street. Pedestrians quickly parted, pushing up against the buildings, allowing a small group of people through. Paine moved out of the way, even though he didn’t know exactly who he was showing deference to. But that question was quickly answered.

Four young men strode down the street, glaring at the people they passed. Two of them were darker-skinned Grerids, one a pale-skinned Hinaen, the fourth a Kolvese like Paine. They carried themselves with an air of authority and menace, glaring at everyone who dared even glance at them. When one older woman got in their way, their leader yanked back his sleeve and flashed his forearm at her.

That told Paine everything he needed to know. All four of them had to be either members of or employed by the Hollowbrooks, the noble family who controlled most of Breakwater. The Hollowbrooks had a habit of branding their family crest on the right forearm of their children. Those who merely worked for them followed suit by tattooing the crest on their forearm. Hollowbrooks and their minions used the brands and tattoos to flaunt their authority. Paine couldn’t see if the man flashing his forearm had a brand or tattoo, but then he caught sight of the Hinaen man’s eyes. They were a shimmering, metallic red. Only members of the royal family or noble families with some sort of ancestral connection had metallic eyes. This young man was no hireling.

Paine averted his gaze as the four men tromped past. He studied the ground and quietly counted to fifteen. He didn’t know what the Hollowbrooks were doing, but he didn’t want to attract their attention. Breakwater was filled with stories of people who had been roughed up or worse by the Hollowbrooks.

Once he was certain the Hollowbrook squad were gone, he set out for the Outreach Center. Sure enough, Softglow and Errion had squeezed themselves in between two display cases. Errion at least had the sense to look abashed when Paine found them. Softglow just shouldered him out of the way and led Errion back to the streets.

Five found. One left. And he knew exactly where to find Eyesore.

He headed for the docks. They stretched the length of the city, jutting out into the Bearer’s Repose. All manner of ships rested in their berths: fishing boats, pleasure yachts, private ships, even a few naval vessels. Sailors, merchants, and others mingled in small knots and flowed from warehouses to offices to other buildings. Paine slipped past them all, heading for a long-abandoned wharf, where the wood rotted into the water.

There, seated at the end of the dock, was Eyesore. She stared out at the water, her knees tucked under her chin. Paine regarded her for a few silent moments. Her long blond hair drifted in the breeze, but in moments of calm, it draped halfway down her back. She had wrapped her arms around her long legs, presenting as small a profile as possible.

After a few minutes, she sniffled and, without turning, said, Your father sent you.

Paine cleared his throat. He did.

She sighed. I thought maybe today would be the day.

She always did. Eyesore’s family technically owned this dock, and her dad had sailed away from it ten years earlier. No one really knew why, especially since he left during winter when the storms on the Repose were at their worst. Most of the whispers in town suggested he had most likely died, his ship sunk by a storm. Why else had he never come back? But Eyesore held on to hope that one day, he would return.

Eyesore rolled to her knees, then rose, turning to face Paine. Paine braced himself. Even though he knew what he would see, he still had to take a moment to prepare himself. Eyesore appeared human at first glance, but it didn’t take long to notice the strange lumps at her forehead and the cracks in her skin that revealed her heritage. Eyesore was only partially human; one of her ancestors had clearly bred with one of the Dynasty’s non-human races. Most people would openly guess that she was partially Ixactl or possibly Plissk. They would whisper that she might be Elbrekkian. Her physical deformities earned her the nickname most people knew her by.

But Paine had always thought she was the loveliest person he had ever seen.

Let’s get going, she muttered.

Paine fell into step just behind her. He had tried to walk next to her once, only to be met with a withering glare. So he followed dutifully behind, just happy that for a few moments, he could be in her presence and maybe, someday, work up the courage to let her know how he really felt.

But that wasn’t that day. Instead, they returned to the Dynastic school and returned to their classes. Obba nodded as he, Eyesore, and Ballast returned to his classroom. He barely broke stride in his lecture on King Kastian’s northern campaigns. Paine settled into his seat, his errand over. For just a moment, though, he wished that he had been able to join the others on their adventures outside of the school. Well, maybe not Softglow and Errion. But he couldn’t really think of a better way to spend an afternoon than being with Eyesore, just sitting at the end of her dock and watching the water.

2

At the end of the day, Paine left the school before Obba could. He knew all too well that if he lingered, Obba would find some chore for him to do. It was bad enough to be the headmaster’s son. Leaning into that role, even a little, was a good way to invite further ostracization.

Even though he was in a hurry, he slowed when left the school. Standing by the front gate were the same Hollowbrook squad he had seen earlier. They glared at all of the students as they left the grounds, occasionally flashing their tattoos and brand to stop one of them for a closer look. As Paine approached, the Kolvese nudged the one with metallic eyes and jerked his chin in Paine’s direction. The nobleman frowned at him, then recognition blossomed on his face.

Hey! We saw you earlier, didn’t we? The way he phrased it, it wasn’t really a question.

Paine nodded, trying to adopt a submissive posture: head slightly bowed, not making eye contact, hands held loosely at his sides where they could be seen.

The nobleman took a step closer. And now you’re at a school? What kind of a scam are you running here?

Paine shrugged. No scam, sir. I’m just a student who—

The man guffawed. A student who what? Got time off for good behavior?

His friends joined in his derisive laughter. Paine’s cheeks heated but he kept his head bowed. If they would have let him explain, maybe they wouldn’t have found it so funny.

I think that’s pretty suspicious, don’t you? the man asked his companions.

One of the other Grerid snarled. Sure do.

I think we’d best take this one in for some… questioning. The man imbued the word with enough malice to make Paine’s skin ache.

I didn’t do anything wrong, Paine said quietly.

The laughter died out and the nobleman’s friends glared at him, aghast. The nobleman, though, took a step closer, peeling up his sleeve to reveal the Hollowbrook brand.

Look at it! the man said, his voice a bare growl.

Paine did. The brand looked like an old scar, a complex weave of lines that probably resembled a stream flowing from between two mountains at one point. Paine was familiar with the design. It was emblazoned throughout Breakwater. But the scars were so faded as to be almost unrecognizable.

Do you know what this means? I have the authority to detain you if I feel I need to. I can ask you any question, rip your pathetic little life apart, and leave you with nothing! I’m Pellias Hollowbrook, and my family owns this town and you, dustdrinker!

He spat the last word with enough venom that Paine sucked in a sharp breath. He shot a glance at Pellias’s Kolvese companion to see his reaction. The man flinched, shooting a worried look at Pellias. But then his face twisted back to a mocking scowl. Paine wanted to laugh at him. How long until Pellias leveled that slur against him? But Paine didn’t say anything. What Pellias had said was absolutely true. Because he was part of a noble house, Pellias lived above the laws that constrained regular folk. All Paine could do was keep pleading his innocence and hope that Pellias would grow bored throwing around his authority.

So this is what I’m going to do. Pellias jerked a thumb at his companions. They’re going to put you in manacles. We’re going to take you to a safe place and you’re going to answer any question I can think of until I’m satisfied. Understood?

Paine nodded, his body and mind suddenly numb. Safe in this context meant safe for them, not him. He might not be released for hours, maybe even days. But what could he do?

What do you think you’re doing?

Obba’s voice snapped Paine to attention and he was suddenly, keenly aware of Obba’s presence behind him. Pellias actually stumbled back a step, his eyes widening.

I am Vessel, the schoolmaster here. Why are you interrogating my student? Obba asked.

Paine winced. Why didn’t he claim him as his son? But he clamped his mouth shut.

We spotted this kid out on the street earlier, and— Pellias said.

He was looking for truant students on my behalf, Obba said coolly. Since when do the Hollowbrooks concern themselves with such trivial matters?

Pellias’s cheeks blazed and his lips twitched into a snarl. Do you know who I am?

"Pellias Hollowbrook, son of Kysin Hollowbrook, younger brother of Mestik Hollowbrook. Did you know your uncle, the head of your family, is one of this school’s primary benefactors? How do you suppose he would react if he found out you