Leviathan Spotter

393 AC - He would often sit off on his own, polishing his conch while others grabbed a drink at the bar. His conch was almost a part of him: He used it as a horn to sound the alarm if there was an attack, or as a trumpet when dawn peeked above the horizon. We had gradually grown accustomed to hearing it in the morning – an often cheerful melody to gently wake the troops as the first rays of sunshine lit up the bridge. As the years passed, it had become a sort of routine to look out the window while listening to those few brief notes. It was the sign that a new day had begun, a brief pause before hunting or training started.

I'd had doubts when Maanus first joined us. He looked like a wrestler, whereas our work required agility. And where the others were outgoing and enthusiastic, he was taciturn and reserved. But he made up for his apparent awkwardness with his keen eye and unfailing tenacity. We rarely dwelled on our past lives and what had driven us to wage war against the Leviathans, so as not to rub salt into our wounds. But one day, he sat down across from me and told me his life story. With an unwavering voice, he told me everything: where he came from, his previous life as a woodcutter, and then how everything had been taken from him… And there, lurking under his calm veneer, I had felt the violence of his resentment, like an unexpected groundswell.

SOLEDAD