Pelasgia
Established Nation
Sun of the Archipelago: An Anthology
Scenes of Daily Life from the Principality of Rumelia
~
I. A Ship Named "Mermaid"
Scenes of Daily Life from the Principality of Rumelia
~
I. A Ship Named "Mermaid"
Saint Olga, Dekeliya Province, Rumelia
Dawn had finally broken over the rocky shores of southern Rumelia. Already, the soft, salty breeze of the early spring morrow flew with the azure waves of the White Archipelago as they crashed into the sands and rocks of the Land of the Sea Slavs. For most Rumelians, this was perhaps their waking hour; for the fishermen of Saint Olga, however, this was merely their call to start returning to port, carrying the catch of the day to sell on fish markets all across the coast--and beyond it, thanks to the blessings of modern refrigerated trucks. Among the innumerable fishing boats, the tratsi, that constituted the town's fishing flotilla, all painted white and blue per tradition, one stood out for the likeness of a mermaid painted on its side--appropriately bearing the name of Rusaliya or "mermaid"--and sailing quite close to the rocky inlets that dotted the coast of Dekeliya Province.
At the very tip of the boat's bow, right were the wood met the waves, stood a boy of twelve years. Neither too pale nor too olive skinned, with dark hair and eyes, and of decidedly average height for a region inhabited by tall Slavic and shorter Meridian nations, the boy was the very image of the average Rumelian. From within the unbuttoned collar of his white shirt, a golden baptismal cross and a small icon of Saint Andrew, the lad's namesake, protruded. Like the famed naval saint, Andrei braved the waves without even grasping the boat, confident in his young sailor's footing.
"Andrei!" called the boy's grandfather, Nikolai Nikolov, from the pilot's cabin. "Andrei, my boy, what are you doing out there?"
Andrei smiled--his grandfather loved him far too much to be mad at him. "Enjoying the sea, grandpa!"
"Enjoying the sea? My, if a wave sweeps you off the deck, you'll enjoy the bite of dogfish!" the old man barked grumpily. "Anyway, come to the starboard and watch the waters closely for me, in case I miss some rock."
Andrei obliged, and the boat kept its course, cruising through the waves with a full day's catch of anything from bogue and cod to squid and shrimp. At some point, the young boy's eyes caught the sight of the old medieval fortress of Stara Kula or "Old Tower", built on the roughest, tallest peak overlooking the coast by the Propontines back when they still ruled Rumelia--a long time ago, judging by the current, ruined state of the castle. Andrei knew that, around the corner from the fort, his hometown of Saint Olga would be built around the base and first low slopes of that very same rock, having once relied upon the castle's protection from pirates and raiders to grow and prosper. So long did Andrei marvel at the familiar sight of the fort's silhouette against the rising sun, that he nearly forgot that his grandfather seemed to be navigating the wrong way.
"Grandpa!" he cried out, neglecting his rock-watch duty to look inside the pilot's cabin. "Shouldn't we have turned by now? We'll miss Saint Olga!"
"We're no headed for Saint Olga," old man Nikolai replied. "With a catch like this, we can fetch a good buck at the fresh seafood market of Dragonitsa. Those urbanites at the provincial capital will buy sand smelt for the price of mackerel!"
Andrei should have normally been excited at the prospect of seeing the big city, let alone making such a lofty profit--but he was not. "Grandpa," he said. "Will we make it back before noon? I have to... play with my friends."
The grey old man adjusted his fisherman's cap and let a grimace appear on his tan face, which was covered in two-days' silvery scruff. "Play with your friends, are you? More like play with girls! My, you start young these days."
Andrei blushed but he said nothing, preferring to look down. His grandfather, on the other hand, roared with laughter. "Alright, my boy, alright; we'll be back in time for you to meet your damsel. I'll even get you some candy to share with her from the portside pastry shops--as long as you help me unload quickly, that is."
The boat was not even in sight of Dragonitsa, and Andrei jumped and headed for the cargo straight away. "Of course!" he cried with excitement.
Old man Nikolai smiled. There was no "rock watch duty" nor had there been a need to go so close to shore; but he needed to know whether his grandson was on his way to becoming a man. And now, he knew.
At the very tip of the boat's bow, right were the wood met the waves, stood a boy of twelve years. Neither too pale nor too olive skinned, with dark hair and eyes, and of decidedly average height for a region inhabited by tall Slavic and shorter Meridian nations, the boy was the very image of the average Rumelian. From within the unbuttoned collar of his white shirt, a golden baptismal cross and a small icon of Saint Andrew, the lad's namesake, protruded. Like the famed naval saint, Andrei braved the waves without even grasping the boat, confident in his young sailor's footing.
"Andrei!" called the boy's grandfather, Nikolai Nikolov, from the pilot's cabin. "Andrei, my boy, what are you doing out there?"
Andrei smiled--his grandfather loved him far too much to be mad at him. "Enjoying the sea, grandpa!"
"Enjoying the sea? My, if a wave sweeps you off the deck, you'll enjoy the bite of dogfish!" the old man barked grumpily. "Anyway, come to the starboard and watch the waters closely for me, in case I miss some rock."
Andrei obliged, and the boat kept its course, cruising through the waves with a full day's catch of anything from bogue and cod to squid and shrimp. At some point, the young boy's eyes caught the sight of the old medieval fortress of Stara Kula or "Old Tower", built on the roughest, tallest peak overlooking the coast by the Propontines back when they still ruled Rumelia--a long time ago, judging by the current, ruined state of the castle. Andrei knew that, around the corner from the fort, his hometown of Saint Olga would be built around the base and first low slopes of that very same rock, having once relied upon the castle's protection from pirates and raiders to grow and prosper. So long did Andrei marvel at the familiar sight of the fort's silhouette against the rising sun, that he nearly forgot that his grandfather seemed to be navigating the wrong way.
"Grandpa!" he cried out, neglecting his rock-watch duty to look inside the pilot's cabin. "Shouldn't we have turned by now? We'll miss Saint Olga!"
"We're no headed for Saint Olga," old man Nikolai replied. "With a catch like this, we can fetch a good buck at the fresh seafood market of Dragonitsa. Those urbanites at the provincial capital will buy sand smelt for the price of mackerel!"
Andrei should have normally been excited at the prospect of seeing the big city, let alone making such a lofty profit--but he was not. "Grandpa," he said. "Will we make it back before noon? I have to... play with my friends."
The grey old man adjusted his fisherman's cap and let a grimace appear on his tan face, which was covered in two-days' silvery scruff. "Play with your friends, are you? More like play with girls! My, you start young these days."
Andrei blushed but he said nothing, preferring to look down. His grandfather, on the other hand, roared with laughter. "Alright, my boy, alright; we'll be back in time for you to meet your damsel. I'll even get you some candy to share with her from the portside pastry shops--as long as you help me unload quickly, that is."
The boat was not even in sight of Dragonitsa, and Andrei jumped and headed for the cargo straight away. "Of course!" he cried with excitement.
Old man Nikolai smiled. There was no "rock watch duty" nor had there been a need to go so close to shore; but he needed to know whether his grandson was on his way to becoming a man. And now, he knew.
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