A Tour of the Veduka River, Part I - The Journal of Anther Strein
The Journal of Anther Strein
Observations from a Travelling Naturalist in a Fantasy World
Written by Lachlan Marnoch
with Illustrations by Nayoung Lee
Previous: The Various Vermin of a Veduka City
Photo by Eutah Mizushima, via Unsplash
A Tour of the Veduka River, Part I
Praeday 17th of Rewis, 787 AoC
Rivership Wise Proverb, near Kaagmester, upon the Veduka River
We have secured places aboard a vessel named Wise Proverb, a river trader that regularly makes the voyage between either extreme of the Veduka River. The ship has just come from the mining ports at the south-west, laden with minerals. She rides a little higher in the water now than when she arrived, having traded a chunk of her precious metals for coin and crops, and there is room enough for passengers. The craft is not sailing to Delta City express, instead planning to pause at each major port along the way. This is the best we are likely to do. Although he is a Torvan national, the captain has a passable knowledge of Swamplander, which allowed me to bargain quite smoothly1. Although often glancing at Prentis askance, he did not do so at our coin. Our quarters are far from glamorous, but this is to be expected – she is a trading ship, not a ferry. I have taken a seat on the top deck to watch the scenery pass by as I write - the vessel is now making its happy way along the vast, grey-brown torrent of the Veduka River.
Home to a huge variety of fish and other wildlife, starting at the tiny and spanning to the vast, the River is the lifeblood of the rainforest kingdoms. It traces a sinuous, winding route from its glacial sources in the Crown Mountains all the way to distant Delta, where it pours into the Spine Ocean – at every step, accumulating a greater flow from its many tributaries. Even at its narrowest points, and during the dry season, the river is wide enough to swallow a large erefal tree laid length-way across its stream. In places, to encompass some of its vast river islands, it broadens to almost fifty kiloheights across. Trade, war, and diplomacy all take place along its superb length. The Kingdoms with direct access to it – Torvus, Clearleaf, Vedukish, Delta and the Swamplands – wield the most power, and it seems impossible to argue against some correlation here. The river forms a border between Torvus and Clearleaf, while Vedukish and the Swamplands straddle it on either side. Delta Kingdom lies entirely between the river’s banks, with Katho to the north and Farcri to the south. Each of the Rainforest Kingdoms can field a brown-water navy of decent size, to protect its interests in the waterway and its tributaries. The Swamplands have always led in this respect, and even this far west the dragon crest of House Torgien can be glimpsed flying from the mast of an occasional patrol ship.
Climbing aboard the Proverb was a relief in some ways. Even though I am a native of the tropics, in my long absence I have grown used to the more temperate climate in Essiloreth. Although we are entering the cooler months in the year’s centre, the forest retains a tropical heat. Entering the city only made matters worse. This discomfort is abated partially aboard the Proverb, as the air over the river is cooler and our movement through it creates a pleasant breeze.
The wind cannot be relied upon to maintain sufficient power for the propulsion of a ship, especially against the current, and so the Proverb is equipped with banks of oars. Essilor, whose bodies are better suited to the task of rowing, and whose comfort is less valued, are employed to man them. Often this has been a position occupied by slaves, especially on the Swampland warships that once sailed upriver in conquest. Proverb, like any vessel that passes through multiple kingdoms, does not use slaves, but you might not know it from the disdain with which the rowers are treated by the Paluchard crew.
On our passage from Kaagmester, I caught a glimpse of an agricultural innovation-in-progress. Past the outskirts of the city, tumbling down the plateau wall, are tiers of flooded terrace, tended by Paluchard and Austium farmers. These are the result of experiments with a new crop, fresh from the Old World – rice. This makes sense of something I saw yesterday: a street food stall in one of Kaagmester’s riverside markets, serving steaming bowls of vegetables heaped on rice. As a vegetarian and a naturalist, I felt bound to investigate the meal; I found the rice bland but unobjectionable (although the vegetables, prepared just as my mother used to, were something of a treat). I suspect it would be much improved with liberal application of sauce of some kind. I had thought the new crop a rarity, but it seems Clearleaf is flirting with a wider introduction. Rice requires a ghastly amount of water to grow, but water is one thing in which Veduka is rich, and so it may prove a success here, or even in Essiloreth. It will, I suspect, fare far less well in the arid Proesus mainland.
1 Swamplander is the de facto lingua franca of the Veduka region – the Swampland Kingdom remains the most powerful of the kingdoms, and has at various times conquered most of the others. In cities such as this, it is common to encounter people who know it at least haltingly. Such are the benefits of being born to a successful imperialist state.
Pahlaviday 24th of Rewis, 787 AoC
Rivership Wise Proverb, near Greystone, upon the Veduka River
Without walking or wildlife to occupy us, boredom has set in partially – I have been teaching Prentis to play kingsboard, for which the captain keeps a complete set. In turn, Prentis is tutoring me in stones, to which the kingsboard can be easily adapted with a little imagination. At first we played in the captain’s cabin itself; although an impressive map of all the forest’s winding waterways stands pinned to one wall, we soon missed the sight of the true river, and moved our games outdoors 2. We play on a quiet, out-of-the-way portion of the upper deck, watching the forest slide by between turns.
Today there was much to see - we passed by a great landmark of archaeology, an ancient, completely abandoned city hewn from immense blocks of grey stone3, lining the river for a kiloheight or more. Trees strike up from between the enormous flagstones now, and the slabs that make up the walls are crowded with moss and vines. Standing at the River's highwater mark, half-collapsed, was what might have been at one time a boathouse; none of the rocks of which it consisted were less than four heights across, and yet all were flawless in shape to the eye, at least from our distance. I have read that more stone slabs lie on the riverbed, the remains of an ancient wharf - once graduated with several levels to accommodate the annual rise and fall of the river. From the upper deck, we could see the tip of the vast pyramid at the city’s heart.
What caused the abandonment of this mighty ancient metropolis, and when it occurred, is a mystery, although it must have taken place thousands of years ago. Beneath the moss, much of the stone is blackened as though exposed to a great fire, although few are the fires in the Rainforest that can burn out of control - let alone in a city made of stone. I have read of this ruin but never visited, although I would quite like to; this was the first time I laid eyes upon it, however briefly. As little fondness as I have for cities, a different quality exists in ancient, empty ruins – there is something wonderfully humbling to the way in which the work of sapient hands is reclaimed by the wild. Beside which, none of the Paluchard cities come to a tenth of this site’s grandeur. Although archaeologists of my species like to claim the site as an example of our early civilisations, I suspect otherwise. The desire to assemble enormous feats of architecture has never been a Paluchard trait; even the modern halls of the great Houses are humble in comparison to this antique. Besides this, the doorways and artefacts seem mostly of the wrong proportion for my kind. I think it more likely, as do scholars whose biases are not quite so bound up in nationalistic pride, that the city is of Praesul make. Perhaps this sheds some light on its abandonment.
As our craft passed the forgotten city, I caught a glimpse of a Veduka wasorac, Wasoracii terribilis, stalking among the ruins. The wasorac is a ratite - a large, flightless bird with kin in the elari and the desert runner. Mostly frugivorous, the wasorac has a vicious reputation, able to bring to bear its lethal kicking claws in self-defence. When in heat, it may even attack unprovoked. Paluchard children are taught from a young age to keep a healthy distance from the blood-red crest atop the bird's featherless head, and our hunters only ever engage it from range. It can reach astonishing speeds over short distances, so hunters must do their best not to miss. A second species, the southern wasorac (Wasoracii sonari), is to be found on the other side of the Crown Mountains, although it has grown rare.
2 The captain was not happy to learn of this state of affairs, but accepted it upon being paid a deposit (one I suspect to be several times the actual worth of the worn, wooden set).
3 I can be no more specific than that in identifying the rock; my knowledge of geology is thoroughly lacking. This, I am beginning to realise, shall have to be remedied if I am to truly understand the origin of species – too much of the natural history is bound up in the ancient rocks of the world for it to be unfurled by a geological ignoramus.
Moonsday 26th of Rewis, 787 AoC
Rivership Wise Proverb, near the Grand Arch, upon the Veduka River
We passed just now under the Grand Arch, the only bridge to straddle the entire River in a single span. Living up to its name, it climbs in a shining silvery arc from the city centre on the eastern bank, soaring, like a stream of water fired from a pumped hose, to an astonishing height above the river; from there it plunges again into the jungle on the western bank, all apparently of a single, perfect piece. Nothing supports it from below or above – whatever strength it has must come from within. The materials from which it is constructed are equally mysterious.
Like many such impressive feats of engineering, the Arch is ancient – the knowledge to replicate it does not exist today. An adjunct to this gap in understanding is the knowledge to repair and maintain it, and for this reason you will never catch me lingering on the Arch for any extended time, no matter how seamless it may outwardly appear4. Such fears, it bears noting, have not prevented good use from being made of the bridge - when has an eventual danger ever stood in the way of commerce? - and a steady flow of traffic passed overhead even as we sailed below. Craning my head, I noted what could have been one or two heads peering at us from the balustrades.
I write these words as the Arch recedes behind us. Hidden from us by the forest, Bridgeton lies at the great bridge’s western foot. Opposite, the city Arcing crowds about the bridge’s eastern extreme. The slums of the city are visible in the Arch’s shadow, while the more affluent neighbourhoods lie a safer distance. Should the bridge ever crumble, it will crush sizeable portions of both settlements – too many people to think about. Little different, I suppose, from living in the shadow of a dormant volcano or in a region swept regularly by bushfire.
Vedukish Kingdom, of which Arcing is the capital, is famed across Proesus for its fermented plum drinks. It is a pitcher of one of these that Prentis and I are partaking in now. In a rare fit of generosity, likely related to the unexpected windfall he came upon in Arcing5, the captain purchased several barrels to be shared among the crew.
The juice is brewed from a domestic variety of the bobbing plum (Globoxus andreas), a fruit found commonly along Veduka’s rivers - which the plant exploits for its own distribution. The tree drops its buoyant fruit in the waterways, to be conveyed far downstream. Herbivorous animals complete the task, dragging the fruit from the water for its sweet flesh – or else the plum can take root where it is caught on the bank. This is all quite well-documented – it is how the plants came to be upstream in the first place, using this apparently one-directional mode of transport, that is somewhat less understood (although I suspect that sapient intervention may have lately played a role). Even the plum's wild counterpart is greater in size than my head, appearing to forestall any bird-based argument 6; the domestic breeds are even larger7, and full of delicious juice. A related fruit, the Sanctuary plum (Globoxus umber) - although famously hardy in the face of great temperatures - is quite bitter by comparison, and has never been domesticated. Why even make the attempt, when its relative is so much more appetising?
Barrels of Vedukish plum juice bear the iconic bobbing plum logo on the label - purple, almost spherical, with a flat crown of green leaves. It is agreed by Essilor, Nuntium, Austium and Paluchard alike to be quite delicious (a surpassingly rare condition in any food or drink). Some Essilor have an unfortunate allergic reaction to the juice, which enhances its intoxicating qualities – although I must say that, even without this added effect, the substance goes quite swiftly to one’s head8. As the effects make themselves known, it becomes increasingly difficult to focus on writing – or to interpret my own scrawl. I shall hence cede the struggle and lie back in my chair, to enjoy the evening breeze as the Veduka Rainforest passes beside us.
4 Although surely one crossing couldn’t hurt… I would dearly love to see the view someday. The Proverb stopped only briefly in Arcing – not long enough for the ascent and descent by belly.
5 The current king of Vedukish has scientific aspirations, and the latest fancy to which he has dedicated himself is the mystery of galvanism. He is buying up large quantities of metals, no matter if as ore or in refined form, that are believed good hosts of galvanic currents. The ship's remaining stock of copper, gold and silver was thus able to fetch a much grander price than usual. The captain descended quite efficiently, and with copious grumbling, from the high spirits this prompted upon the realisation that he could have made a much greater profit had he loaded the whole ship with these metals, and not unloaded any in upstream ports. Fortunately, by then the plum juice had already been tapped.
6 Although birds certainly enjoy the fruit. Vedukish plum plantations are engaged in an ever-escalating feud with the local parrots, flocks of which will take any opportunity to gorge themselves on ripe crops - and, by all reports, become increasingly canny at discerning them from the unripe. It occurs that a plum farmer will inspect his fruits in the evening and go to bed with the knowledge that a ripe crop will be awaiting harvest come morning, only to discover his trees stripped bare and a flock of fat, juice-stained birds cackling at him from the branches.
7 A sport has sometimes been made by young children of riding these plums along the current, clinging to the leaves.
8 I have lost three consecutive matches of kingsboard in a row to Prentis successively since our pitcher arrived.
Pahlaviday 29th of Rewis, 787 AoC
Rivership Wise Proverb, upon the Veduka River
I, just now, encountered a grazing spider (Nogsaeg chaesigjuui) making its way across the railing of the ship. This most peculiar green spider, usually measuring five fingers long, is the only arachnid known to be completely herbivorous – feeding only on the leaves of rainforest trees. It has a venom capable of sickening most sapients, but this is only ever deployed in self-defence. The poor confused thing must have inadvertently stowed away at one of our ports. I have captured it in a glass jar for later release.
We are proceeding currently through the Swamplands, the largest of the Paluchard Kingdoms. Here the river slows to a crawl and unfolds into an immense bayou, in which abide a preponderance of muddy islets. The Proverb runs too deep to attempt the shortest route through the marshland’s centre, so it will instead take one of the deeper streams that cut along its margin. We will, however, pass along the edge of Bayou itself, the capital city of the Swampland Kingdom.
Before broadening, the river passes by a long series of towering Paluchard statues, each more worn than that following. Although uniform in scale, they become more impressive as we advance, graduating from blocky approximations to sinuous detail, with a plunge and then resurgence in artistry toward the end of the series - no doubt reflecting the advancing skill of the stonemasons from which they were commissioned. Each of the effigies wears the ornate crown of the Swampland Kingdom. The most recent statue, depicting Bandon Torgien IV9, the King when I was last in my homeland, is still clad in a latticework of wooden scaffolds. Masons were putting the finishing touches on His Royal Majesty’s left nostril as we passed.
The first of the statues, and the most ancient, stand on an old border of the Kingdom. I have little doubt that these grand portraits were constructed to intimidate citizens of rival kingdoms entering the Swamplands from upstream. Perhaps the grey stone city belonged to one of these rivals. In any other setting, the statues would be spectacular in their scale – but here, they are simply dwarfed by the immense waters over which they stand guard.
9
I remember his name only because of how often it was drilled into us in school, and recognise his face from the portrait that hung at the front of the classroom. His son is the King now, Derstan Torgien III, long may he reign. Bleh. Force of habit.
Praeday 2nd of Corper, 787 AoC
Rivership Wise Proverb, upon the Veduka River
We passed today by the entrance of the Forgetful River, yet another of the Veduka’s tributaries. Along that waterway, distant north-west from here, lies every place I knew before age sixteen. I watched from the top deck as the yawning mouth, flanked by a small town, approached and then receded, rearing tall to peer as far upstream as I could manage - as though, with enough straining, I might catch a glimpse of my hometown Popolopoloi. Little chance of that, of course. The village lies at least three days’ journey along the river. I wish I had the time and opportunity to visit; I sorely miss the sights and smells of my childhood home. I have seen nothing of my family but letters for fifteen years. Perhaps once I have established a name for myself, I will find time to visit. I hope so. Echoes of my mother’s pouch-song have lived in my dreams ever since we came to the Rainforest.
I am now retracing a segment of my first journey away from Popolopoloi, taken when I embarked toward Forum to begin my studies at the College. My parents accompanied me all the way to Bayou; further than my mother had ever travelled, and equal to my father’s record. That was… nearly fifteen years ago, by Febregon. A ludicrous figure, somehow both far greater and much lesser than I can possibly entertain.
I was determined, then, to join the Disciples of Sunon, to contribute great things to the study of the natural world. Somewhere along the way, I lost that determination, or let it dull in my decade of mandatory service. It is curious how the spirit of youth is diluted by time. I am beginning, I think, to find it once again, perhaps renewed by the energies of my remembered past self. She watched the astonishing waters of the Veduka with wide-eyed wonder, and could find no room in her emotions for anything but enthusiasm for her future. In returning, that excitement is tainted by sad nostalgia – but not, I hope, lessened by it.