"Quando hay frialdad en la tierra e la mar, vuelve tu rostro hacia el sol."

– Old Serkonan Proverb, from an upcoming book of translations.

/

"Daddy!" Jessamine said, tugging insistently at his long sleeve, shouting over the ocean crashing against their ship. "It's so bright here. Are we going to the sun?"

His face, straight and serious for so long, softened as he turned to smile at her, pulling his hand from her grasp. "Not quite, darling," he said, patting her head. "But it feels as if Serkonos is closer to the sun, doesn't it?"

She nodded excitedly. "It's too hot. Will we burn up?" she asked.

That made him laugh, though she didn't know why. "Not at all, Jessamine. There are people that live there, and they don't burn up."

She thought about that, fingers in her mouth. "Are they sun-people?"

Another smile was all the answer he gave her before he looked away again, gazing past the front of their ship, arms behind his back in that way he did when he was conducting business. Far away, she could see a growing line of white and green on the ocean, boats the size of tiny tree-leaf insects bobbing on the water.

Jessamine went to the ship rails and looked through them, down at the swirling white ocean around the boat. Waves of shiny green-blue and cloudy foam reflected light into her eyes. Sunlight burned on the back of her neck, even when she covered it with her hands.

"Jessamine, come away from there," daddy said. "Cole, would you take her to the cabin? She can explore on land soon enough."

"Right, sir." She heard Cole approaching, his boots with the dull steel toes thumping behind her. She turned and gave him her most well-practiced pout, folding her small arms. Cole, sand-colored hair ruffling in the wind and good eye squinting against the light, laughed.

"Come on then," he said, herding her toward the cabin. "Move along, little krust pearl. You'll have your adventure soon enough."

/

Jessamine Kaldwin was five years old when she set foot on Serkonos for the first time.

She stepped off the dock where it stopped being one and became lengths of wood, lined one after another across the beach (nothing like the piers and water gates back home). She kicked at wet sand with her shiny shoes until the nursemaid scolded her. Skipping wasn't allowed, either—she had to stand still and quiet and keep her arms at her sides (and no swinging) as she followed daddy and Cole, the four of them surrounded by daddy's guards.

A group of well-dressed nobles and other serious-looking guards met them on the wooden path. She had never seen such dark-faced men in all her life, some with hair as long as a lady's. One shook hands with daddy in that stiff way diplomats and associates did, and his voice sounded thick and funny when he spoke. "It is a pleasure to see you again, Emperor Kaldwin."

They talked a while about boring adult things—Jessamine scuffed her foot very carefully against the sand so the nursemaid wouldn't notice—before the dark man said, "I quite agree. My men will escort your family to their quarters, if such is to your liking, and we can discuss matters further."

"Excellent," daddy said, and lifted a hand to signal the guards. "My men will attend as well. Mr. Griggs will come with me."

"Of course," the dark man said, his face still as a painting. He gestured behind him, where the beach became a busy, noisy and brightly-colored street. Near trees that bowed with the weight of big, leafy tops stood a line of red and bronze carriages, each with two horses of many different shades. "Shall we?"

"Jessamine, darling," daddy said, turning to pat her on the head. "Be good for Marta."

"Yes daddy," she said, but it was with a pout and sideways look at the cranky nursemaid.

Her father and the dark man walked toward one of the carriages at the end. Cole followed, some of the dark man's guards going with them. The rest stayed, standing up straight and serious in their fancy uniforms alongside daddy's guards. One gestured to the nursemaid and said, "Right this way, ma'am."

Jessamine got to skip now; the nursemaid was too amazed with this new place (and a little nervous, looking in a shifty way between the dark man's guards) to really notice, and none of the guards told her not to. One even smiled.

"Have you ever been to the sun?" she asked him, swinging her arms back and forth.

The guard thought that was a funny question. His eyebrows went up, then just one, and he chuckled in a confused way. "I have not, little miss."

"Daddy says Serkano is closer to the sun than Dunwall, so it's the closest I've been ever," Jessamine said. The guard smiled again.

The street was noisy and filled with people, some dressed in shirts without sleeves, some even wearing trousers that didn't reach their ankles. She saw fancy dresses and jewelry as bright and colorful as her paints back home. The nice guard helped lift Jessamine into the carriage, and the spicy smell inside tickled her nose.

Two of daddy's guards got in with them, the rest moving into the second carriage, before their driver cracked the reigns and the carriage started to move. The horses pulled it through what felt like the whole city, tall buildings made of red clay and white stones reaching up to great, leafy trees planted by their doors. Big, vibrant banners stretched across storefronts—she could read some of the writing, or at least recognize it, but the rest looked very strange. Men called loudly from behind carts laden with smoke and odd-looking food, handing out bowls and things on sticks that people held in their hands to eat. She saw a crowd around a woman playing an instrument in the shade of a tree. Jessamine put her hands against the window when they passed jets of water that came straight out of the street, as many children as she had ever seen playing in the streams.

"You will be quartered in the Regent's guest estate," the dark man's other guard, a man with peppery-looking hair, told the nursemaid. "I believe you'll find it comfortable."

The way she was staring out the window, Jessamine didn't think the nursemaid really heard. "And where might that be?" the nursemaid asked, vaguely.

"All offices of esteem are located in the Colina District, ma'am," he said, gesturing out the window. There was a great hill in front of them, covered with more trees and short-looking buildings, only their rooftops peeking out past the green.

"They're little," Jessamine said, kicking her legs. "Dunwall Tower goes up into the sky. Why are they so short?"

"Jessamine!" the nursemaid snapped, waving a finger at her. "Don't be rude! We are guests here."

"It's all right, ma'am," the nice guard said, and leaned forward so he was eye-to-eye with Jessamine. "You might be surprised, little miss. Even the smallest diamonds shine in the light."

The nursemaid made a face she didn't think anyone saw. Jessamine ignored her, and smiled at the nice guard.

They took a long, winding path up the hill, the crowds around the carriage thinning as they climbed higher and higher. It wasn't long before the ocean crawled into view past the trees, bright with the shining sun. The people started to look more serious, dressed the same with long trousers and sleeves, some even walking in lines and formations. The buildings were still that same red and white, but there were fewer decorations and more gates, guards posted at entryways. The buildings were taller than they had looked, set far enough back to almost be part of the mountain, like they were ducking away into the forest.

They turned onto a path near the edge of the hill, the nice guard waving his hand out the carriage window. The footmen at the entry opened a gold-colored gate, and after a few more bends and twists a great white building poked through the trees. It was made of that same white stone, the walls and walkways bright with it. Three-story wings with red tile roofs made a horse-shoe shape around a walled courtyard—she could see green grass through a wide, curved entry, and people moving about inside.

As one of daddy's guards set Jessamine down outside the carriage and turned to help the nursemaid (who seemed to have caught wheel-sickness), Jessamine snuck closer, putting her hands on the doorway to peek in.

A group of boys were standing in lines, jumping back and forth and waving wooden swords. Most of them were older than her—from boys barely an inch taller than she was to men with broad shoulders and little beards—but she did see one or two her age, barely reaching the others' elbows. They all did the same steps and turns, and though some weren't perfect (she saw one of the boys her age stop, look around, then carefully matching the others) they seemed to move together, like one thing with a hundred faces. They swung their swords, letting out a cry that she could feel in the tiles. Jessamine blinked, pushing up and down on her toes.

"Ah, you should come away from there, little miss," she heard, before the nice guard took her hand and pulled her gently away. She whined, looking over her shoulder and straining to see as the courtyard disappeared behind the wall. When she couldn't see inside anymore she scurried to match the guard's footsteps, grabbing and tugging on his sleeve.

"What're they doing?" she asked, pointing back at the courtyard.

"They're training," he answered kindly, nodding toward the surrounding wall. "One day they'll be Karnaca's city guards and Serkonos' soldiers."

"Did you do that too?" she asked.

He smiled, nodding. "I did."

"Can I?"

"I don't think that's the kind of thing an empress would like to do," he said carefully. "But perhaps you can ask your father."

He said it in the way adults did when they meant to say no. Her shoulders sank a little, and she sighed. "Okay."

He did something that most adults didn't, and gave her a sympathetic look. "We'll show you where you'll be staying," he said as they met up with daddy's men (who were giving the nice guard strange looks) and the peppery-haired guard (who was helping the nursemaid balance). "It's very nice."

Their room was in leftmost part of the horseshoe, all the way up the stairs and on the other end of a covered walkway, shaded by plants that wrapped around the railings. At its far end, the guards opened a door, and Jessamine and the nursemaid stepped into a suite that was only as big as daddy's bedroom and the music room put together. But the sitting room was bright, painted a soft yellow color, with wide windows and a balcony on the other end. There were plants too, growing from painted pots, some with vines that climbed to the ceiling. The nursemaid took her time saying goodbye to the peppery-haired guard before she shut the door, leaving daddy's guards outside, and grumbled about unpacking their bags.

When she wasn't looking, Jessamine snuck over to the balcony. Sliding open the glass door and closing it so quietly that the nursemaid would never hear it, she turned and looked out at the grounds.

Dark wooden beams supported an overhead sunshade with something hanging from its edge, tiny metal loops chiming together in the breeze. She could see people on the walkways of the building's other wing and green trees all around, swishing and swaying. And then, there was what she was really looking for: the courtyard with the training boys below, her balcony high enough for her to look right over the walls.

Jessamine wrapped her hands around the black railing (letting go when it was hot against her palms) and watched them. They swung their swords back and forth, this time at each other. She watched them attack and then jump out of the way, trying not to be hit themselves. She saw one boy knock another down and the second one jump up, growling and yelling—some of the older ones came running over, scolding them loudly, before ordering them back to their task.

And while they trained to be guards and soldiers and protect the country in the sun one day, Jessamine Kaldwin stood on a balcony overhead, bobbing on her toes and swinging her arms in turn.