Chapter Text
jespers stomach was a cesspool of dread. His skin crawled and hairs stool on end as he and the other ‘new’ grisha boarded the ship that would be taking them across The Fold. The vessel was surprisingly large considering the fact that its primary purpose, besides transportation, was to garner as little attention as possible. Ducking his head as he entered the doorway, as to not bump it, Jesper scanned the room. It was large, and seemed to be a communal area. There were no windows as it was technically ‘below deck’, though there was no actual water to be under, a fact that both amused and frightened Jesper.
Situated around the room were various luxurious lounges, tables and chairs, as well as little gilded sconces fixed to the wall. On the starboard side of the ship was a room guarded by 2 men in red keftas, which piqued Jespers interest, as he wondered what was so important inside.
Jesper was slightly lost. He barely knew anyone on the ship besides one of the children, who had made fun of Jespers hair, before admitting he was actually really scared. Moreover, he had no idea where to go, or even what to do. He gave a confused look to one of the soldiers who seemed to be from the first army, hoping he would receive some guidance.
Thankfully, the man gave a small smile, telling Jesper that the deck was free rein, and that he shouldn’t go to the top deck as it would annoy the grisha working up there. Uttering a small “thanks”, Jesper made himself comfortable at one of the lounges opposite from the ‘mystery room’. Bored out of his mind, though he had only just sat down, Jesper sighed. Honestly, he felt exhausted, like his energy had run dry.
Jesper estimated that an hour had passed on the ship, meaning there was little to go. The first jolt of movement throughout the boat had almost heave him a heart attack with how sudden and swift it was. Since then, they had been traversing the thick blanket of nothingness with few issues. A bump or two here and there, but nothing too serious.
With nothing to do and no interest in chatting up the soldiers or grisha, Jesper allowed his mind to relax. Usually, his mind was always running, a cyclone of thoughts whirling around in his mind, but now, he was almost completely zoned out, picking at his fingernails.
A flash of movement caught Jespers eye. Turining his head to the left, he saw that the door was finally open, and standing in its frame was none other than ‘darkling jr’. Curious, Jesper squinted his eyes to see past his figure, interested in the contents of the room. Could it be a war room? A bedroom? No. Jesper saw the outline of bookshelves and a dark, lacquerd wood desk. Oh. So an office then.
Just as swiftly as he appeared, the boy was gone. Retuning his interest to his fingernails, Jesper realised that he was walking towards him. Abruptly, Jesper put his hands in his lap and lifted his face upwards to meet that of the boy.
“Hi,” he said, his voice soft yet raspy, “I’m kaz”.
“Hello, I’m Jesper”, Jesper replied, a nervous laugh escaping his lips.
“You’re the only one here sitting by themself,” kaz pointed out, “can I join you?”
Skeptical, but happy to have his latest interest offer himself, Jesper nodded.
He had so many questions to ask him. Kaz was wearing dark trousers with a grey undershirt, black waistcoat and black blazer, giving him a matured and professional look. Jesper wondered if he was grisha too, if the treatment he received around camp was anything to go by, he would think so; however, he wore no kefta so perhaps not.
“Who are you?” Jesper blurted out, surprised by his own impulsivity. Kaz too looked surprised, a quirked eyebrow conveying his emotion, like it wasn’t a common occurrence for people to be clueless about his identity. With a light chuckle, he replied,
“That’s right, your from Kerch, yes? That explains your confusion, I’m General Kirigans son.”
Oh. Well that explains the uncanny resemblance.
“Oh,” he begun, dragging out the sound, “are you..”
“Grisha?” He interrupted, “yes”. Jesper let out a sound of contempt, satisfied with his answer. Before he could say anything else foolish to the Generals son for Ghezens sake, kaz was already talking.
“I’ll probably be seeing you around the little palace,” he said, “whats your order?”
“Durcast”, Jesper replied, bluntly, seeing as there was nothing extraordinary about his abilities. Kaz nodded his head in acknowledgment before fishing out a book, from who knows where, and begin to read it intently.
The book was in Ravkan, Jesper noticed. It hasn’t occurred to him that both the second army and first army soldiers that he had thus far interacted with spoke to him in Kerch when it was probably their second language. Kaz, though he only spoke a few words to Jes, seemed to speak it fluently with no accent.
Of course being the Generals son meant he got better lessons. He probably had better training too, physical at least, but since he was grisha there was no doubt he probably got the best lessons for that too. Things are funny, like that, Jesper pondered, how you can just be born and have everything handed to you on a silver platter. The exact opposite was true for himself. Born on a farm in the heartland of novi zem to a family of farmers. It has hard work, every year for harvest, until his pa died from farm machinery and ma got ill and died. All the orphanages were full, so none could take him, except for the ones overseas. It was that cursed plauge. The same one that wiped out the crops had mutated so it could infect humans too. That’s how ma had died.
The voyage across the sea was horrible. Cramped in a ship with hundreds of other orphaned children on their way to Kerch. At that time plauge and sickness were kept at bay, and so there were many orphanages with spaces open. He knew once he got there he couldn’t stay. Which was why he ran. Ran away to the city. There he could have a life. There was money, food and endless exploration there. Sure, it was rough, joining a gang, growing up on the street, but it sure as hell was better that being confined to some drafty, creaky building. Here, he could be free.
Jesper snapped out of his reminiscing when kaz suddenly stood up, waving a pale hand at him, as to say goodbye. That’s when he noticed soldiers buzzing around the cabin. We’re close, Jesper realised. A flood of anticipation filled his body with the idea of disembarking the ship.
the reality of his situation finally set in a Jesper realised he was in Ravka, kilometres away from ketterdam, going to The little palace. Far away from his gang, from Inej, his closest friend. He had to remind himself, that this was for her. To protect her. Jesper knew this was inevitable. You can’t have grisha running around the streets, free. Most were slaves, or indentured in Kerch, so he should be glad he was one of the lucky few who had avoided the talons of merchers.
When the soldiers decided it was time, they herded the group out of the ship. Jespers heart skipped a beat, nerves tingling with the prospect of what was soon to come. the sun greeted him as his skin broke free of the stale ship air and into the fresh atmosphere of Ravka.
They were taken to a small area of grass that bordered the army camp where a grisha in a red kefta was waiting for them.
Thank you for making the journey, your sacrifice has not gone unnoticed,” he purred, a cocky grin spread over his face, “you will all remain here for processing, before you will board a carriage taking you to the little palace.”
Great. More waiting, Jesper thought, annoyed. The crowd seemed to share the same sentiment, as a wave of annoyed murmurs washed over them.
Time passed, as people were slowly filtered into tents within the border of the camp for ‘processing’, whatever that meant. Finally, it was Jespers turn. He was lead into a canvas tent by a soldier of the first army, clad in typical military garb, a bored look on his dark face.
The room was mostly bare, save for a makeshift desk, papers disastrously placed haphazardly on the floor in stacks. A mousey woman sat behind the desk, a pair of thin-framed glasses sitting neatly on her pointed nose as she frowned deeply.
“Well?”, she snapped, “are you going to sit?”.
Quietly, Jesper obliged, before the lady began to ask him a series of questions: his name, his race, spoken languages ect.
Finally, after an intense interrogation, another Corporalki entered the tent, escorting him to a black, wooden carriage. It looked as if it was made to appear luxurious, yet it gave off a mass-produced, gaudy vibe. The inside was spacious, Jesper realised, as there were a few familiar faces already seated from the group of wayward Grisha.
Jesper was the last to board this particular carrige, as this particular model could only hold 7 people, meaning he was lucky enough to sit beside a window. The cabin was surprisingly quiet, no one daring to utter a word. If they were like him, then Jesper would predict they too, were pondering their future.
Glancing out the window, Jesper sighed. The carriage had begun to move, bumpy and rattling on the country road as the fold became nothing more than a speck in the distance.
It was long to be a long ride.