From this height, the sea looked a vast flat plain. All three realms called it by the same name: The Boiling Sea, though many believed it to be an enormous river, or perhaps even a channel of sorts. It would explain the lack of waves; even the larger lakes in the Central Triskellion Valley had waves. But the idiosyncrasies of the boiling sea didn't begin and end there. Of its many quirks, the slow, relentless, northern flow was the most easily explained. The current made its way from the south south east, past the Engledite cliffs and the pale sands of the Vadir and Dekkon beaches, the eastern border of the Collosean realm, until it became the great waterfall known as The Flume, where the water fell into an endless nothingness. The title 'sea' was created in the common Orosian language for the sole purpose of naming this particular phenomenon, for no other body of water in all of Oros came close in terms of size.

  Iskal didn't like the term 'Orosian'. It implied unification, a singular collective rather than the three discrete realms within Oros. He also held a similar distaste for the name 'The Boiling Sea', for it produced more of a steady simmer than a boil. However, he never grew tired of gazing upon the sea's ambling flow from that same spot on the same bench, the one carved out of the lip of a flat boulder, throughout each day of the watchmonth. He loved it's constancy and the silence of the movement and the milky blue colour. It was one long sweeping decline down to the coastline from here, with little but trees and a township to obscure the view.

  The mist from the simmer was now rising in thicker plumes and beginning to catch the tangerine light of the evening sun. The day had been sunny and beautifully clear until now, a perfect final day of the watchmonth. Iskal felt a slight melancholy. The eastern watchmonth was a polarising topic amongst those in the Collosean regiments. Some hated to be away from their families for such a length of time, or even just the seclusion that comes with the duty. In peacetime, only a few soldiers were stationed at each post during their tenures. Iskal savoured these watchmonth periods though, regardless of whatever post he was sent to along the Eastern Collosean coastline. The air was forever pure, even in moments where smoke from the Easthaven Township further down the mountain would mingle with the mineral tastes of the sea mist as it sailed up towards the small encampment. The Monthwatch also offered moments of introspection that could never truly be found in the inner mountain cities. He did miss his partner, though. There was an unmovable ache when he thought of her, but it reminded him of the love they were lucky to have. When he looked out at the mists, the wisps sometimes formed into an image of Viella holding their son, who himself was quickly growing too big to pick up.

  Iskal looked down at the winding path that wound down the mountain slope like falling string, until it reached the mountainside town of Easthaven. A tall individual dressed in thick leathers was lunging up the path towards him, close enough for Iskal to make out that it was one of the Nomad Commanders, whom he'd been expecting. He followed their journey all the way up. This was his first time meeting a Nomad Commander, as it was a relatively new rank in the Collosean army, and, despite their supposedly-high position in the military hierarchy, NCs had yet to garner much respect from the rest of the soldiers. Bureaucrats, if anything. Walking outpost to outpost for hundreds of miles in one big ovular loop, keeping tabs on the soldiers stationed there, kicking those who they found asleep on the job.

  Iskal was passively casting small pebbles at a rotten branch as the NC approached. He didn't look up when they came to a stop.

  'Chieftan 2nd class Iskal Marks?'

  'I'm not a Chieftan anymore, Commander. I was discredited back to Acting Frontstock 18 months ago.' Iskal's head was up now and cast with a tranquil gaze, squinting in the setting northern sun, his pale face a flattering glow of amber.

  'My title is Nomad Commander.' The NC corrected.

  'Aye but it doesn't exactly roll of the tongue.'

  The NC waited a moment to process the irreverence. She was tall and prim-looking with somehow not a speck of rock dust on her blue-green leathers, despite the long march up the dusty mountain path. She also possessed an odd, slightly misaligned posture, like a kinked pipecleaner. 'With grace or disgrace?' She asked.

  'Does it matter?'

  'Of course.'

  'Disgrace.' He gently cast the remaining few pebbles from his hands.

  The NC seemed unbothered by the answer. 'My information for this outpost is clearly obsolete then.' She pulled a sturdy wooden clipboard from the space between her back and her travel pack. 'Am I right in saying there are four marchers, one of them 1st class, stationed here under your command?'

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  'That's correct.'

  'I presume they're in the barracks house over there? Bring them out to attention.'

  Iskal turned to the barracks house. Another misnamed thing - it was no more than a wide shack built into a hill mound made of bound logs with a low tin roof. He called to Bilman and Fadaka, and they emerged after half a minute and walked across the grassy barrackhouse forecourt to stand to attention without prompt in front of the NC. Iskal stood also and looked at the youngsters with his hands at his hips. He could see now that the NC was about 5 inches taller than him. She blocked the setting sun, now nearly out of sight behind the Ruskel Mountain range to the North.

  'Where are the other two?'

  'Out on patrol.' This was a lie. They were currently enjoying their last day of the monthwatch by crawling between the pubs and later brothels of Easthaven. Fadaka and Bilman shared a sideways glance.

  The NC looked down towards the town. 'Are you sure that, if I walked back to Easthaven, I wouldn't find them there?'

  'It would be a long way to go just to find nothing.' Remarked Iskal. He stood straighter now with his hands together and tried to add some reverence to his tone to soften the NC's suspicion.

  It seemed to work. The NC sighed. 'Okay, your monthwatch period is over tomorrow morning at first southlight. It looks like you're all travelling to Embestour. Are you packed and ready? Anything to report from the month?'

  'Yes to the first and no to the second.'

  The NC ticked some boxes on the grainy cream paper attached to the clipboard. Iskal felt a little guilty now. The NC was a fellow soldier at the end of the day, one of seemingly decent stock and temperament as well.

  'Do you see it?' He said, motioning with his head at the horizon beyond the sea mists. It was perhaps the most common question to be asked at introductory meetings around these parts, besides 'how are you?' and 'windy today, aye?'

  'Yep,' she said with a slight smirk as she scribbled something on the paper, 'do you?'

  'Yes.'

  'No.'

  'Yes.'

  The three soldiers replied at the same time, Bilman being the Negative party.

  They were talking of course about the Phantom Shore. The faraway coastline beyond the ghostly steams of the boiling sea, observed by some and dismissed as hallucination by others. It was claimed to be seen only at the highest points of the Eastern Collosean Mountain peaks, where the steam began to dissipate. The great distance and endless mist painted the sight as a crude landscape, but it was agreed by most that mountains could be seen to the South east, and a large meadow and rockfield to the north east. Others, though, thought of it a hopeful illusion caused by the sea vapours. Numerous attempts had been made to send signals to those lands lining the far horizon, the primary means of doing so being the use of light

  beacons from huge bronze gas lamps. However, to that day, there had been no sign of a reply, despite the watch duty of Collosean guards such as Iskal and his men. For decades, the finest shipwrights from the three realms were employed to build a vessel worthy of withstanding the sea's violent nature, but attempts had thus far been futile, and every crew that had set sail met a cruel death by boiling. The preeminent University of Collosea even had a college devoted to solving that ages-old problem. Bridges of both stone and metal were devised at great expense over the years. However, each of these structures corroded and toppled into the sea just days after construction began, prompting the theory that the water also contains destructive chemical properties. Although, strangely, tests on the water by Collosean chemists found it to be only mildly alkaline. Still, the work continued because of what the Phantom Shore represents: A place beyond Oros. A world outside of this great ring of land upon which all known life resided. A place where they could look back at their

  home from a different view, where new elements may be discovered, new people, new life. A way of satisfying that want for exploration which drives so many. This was posited to every young Collosean in their lessons, especially those who'd denied the Phantom Shore as hearsay from an early age.

  The NC finished her writeup and wished them a safe journey home to the Realm's Capitol. But, as Iskal would soon discover, this wish would hold no power beyond the words.