Chapter 96: Gerrymandering

ger·ry·man·der

/ˈjerēˌmandər/

verb

gerund or present participle: gerrymandering

manipulate the boundaries of (an electoral constituency) so as to favor one party or class.

achieve (a result) by manipulating the boundaries of an electoral constituency.

The night disappeared into a blur of teeth gnashing out of the darkness. This time they were attacked by skysharks, Will was aboard a ship filled with hundreds of other Climbers, so he was able to pace himself and let others take their places on the ship’s railing, stabbing anything that got too close.

While the task of defending the ship was spread out, it was also a much larger attack than the one they’d experienced before, stretching out for hours rather than a few adrenaline-filled moments.

Even those who made their homes on the 6^th Floor were stunned at the skyshark’s sheer numbers.

By the time morning rolled around and the sharks retreated back to their floating cloud coral, Will and the other Climbers were exhausted, having been fighting mechanically the entire night.

Stab, push, stab, push, stab, push.

You are now a level 27 Resourceful Climber

The dawn light and the relief of victory drained all the energy out of them, leaving every Climber a puddle of a man, incapable of moving from where they lay slumped over the ship’s railing…or thinking too hard about anything in particular.

Which was exactly what the Granesh clergy wanted.

Clunk, clunk, Will heard the sound of expensive boots on expensive wood, and mustered the energy to turn his head to look:

A half dozen men wearing the ostentatious robes of high-ranking Granesh priests marched from the bowels of the ship, fresh-faced and bright-eyed with zealotry. Close behind them was a double row of Climbers that stretched beyond Will’s sight into the bowel of the ship, each of them wearing pristine Relics, unmarred by blood or battle.

“Shit,” Will muttered, taking in the near-defenseless state of himself and others. The church of Granesh wanted to kill him as bad as the skysharks. Maybe more. The fight against The Tower was over, but he wasn’t out of danger.

An image of a young man crucified in the basement of the church crossed Will’s mind.

Unmarred by blood or battle? Will thought, his gaze flickering from the line of Granesh believers to a serrated tooth that was embedded into the wood of the deck beside him, where they’d pried a skyshark’s mouth off of it not an hour ago.

Will rolled over, facing away from the marching troops, not having to struggle too hard to feign exhaustion. He pried the triangular tooth out of the wood and used it to score up the end of his truncated arm and cutting over his eyebrow, desperately stifling his whimpers as his body flooded with pain.

You go through a whole battle completely unscathed, and you’re forced to do this, Will thought sourly, aware that he’d probably added more time to the recovery of his left hand. Not a lot, but some.

He needed to be able to sell the idea that the lost limb was recent, and the blood currently dribbling down his brow and over his nose would at least somewhat mar his features.

The footsteps grew closer, and Will wiped the blood out of his eyes, making sure to smear it across his face.

Pass me by, pass me by…Will thought as the footsteps grew closer and closer.

The footsteps stopped behind him. Will wasn’t sure if it was his whimpers of pain or him hiding his face, but all the same, he felt an expensive boot poke him in the back.

Damnit.

“Climber, turn around.”

Damnit!

Will turned around, and a grizzled priest of Granesh squatted in front of him, peering down at him. His gaze landed on Will’s face before drifting down to his arm.

“Looks fresh,” the priest grunted, rising back to his feet.

“Can you bring it back?” Will asked, adding a note of hopefulness to his voice, trying to sell the bluff.

It was a mistake, as the priest paused and gave Will a second glance that seemed to stretch on for three more heartbeats than it should’ve. More attention than Will wanted.

“…No. That level of healing is currently reserved for the mortally wounded. Petition at the church after The Flotilla reforms. Joshua will seal the wound.” The priest said, turning away. Once he was past a junior member of their order broke away from the stream of zealots, kneeling beside Will and putting a hand on him, his nose wrinkling up as he did so.

“Did you step in something?” The Junior member asked as his hands glowed, causing the wounds on Will’s truncated arm to seal.

Why are they all acting like I smell bad? Was it some kind of divine thing? Granesh saying ‘hey, look over here!’ or was Will just permeated by the rotting fish smell onboard Shimmer?

“Fish guts,” Will spoke as the junior priest stood. “Plenty of them flying around last night, priest. For most of us, anyway.” Will said, eyeing the man’s pristine cloak.

“R-Right,” Joshua said guiltily, nodding.

“Before you go,” Will asked the young priest. Young was relative, as he appeared to only be ten years older than Will, while the grizzled priest in the front of the line looked like he and the ocean were old rivals. “Can you tell me who that is?”

“That’s Saint Jairus, I’m sorry, I’ve got to…” Joshua trotted across the deck to rejoin his place in line, which had been left open for him.

Saint?

The title of Saint, according to what Will understood, was granted by the church to members at least level 50, or higher.

Which meant Will had to get off the ship. Maybe he could beat a Saint, maybe he couldn’t, but either way, he’d rather not engage him in such a disadvantageous setting. It wasn’t Will’s boat, and it wasn’t Will’s people that surrounded him.

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Will scanned the boat and spotted Alicia and Mason, looking wrung out, leaning against railings. Bee, Jean, and Ria looked fresh enough, as fighting all night was a quick warm-up for them.

Anna was still on Shimmer. Hopefully it hadn’t sunk.

Reggie was splayed out on the ground, staring at the sky, while June was slowly climbing up the mast, carrying her bow, aiming to get a good view.

At least someone sees how bad this is, Will mused.

Wait, where’s Loth?

“Climbers!” The old man’s voice rose above the others while Will was trying to find Loth.

Will’s gaze was drawn back to the speaker, who had arrived at a podium built into the fore of the ship.

“By the grace of Granesh, we have survived!” Saint Jairus said, raising a fist.

There was a weak, half-hearted cheer from the Climbers strewn about the deck, reinforced by a more forceful one from the hundred or so fresh-faced priests and devoted Climbers.

“Granesh is the champion of unity, of solidarity, and so now it is time for us to show our solidarity by reaching out and lending aid to those who share our convictions. We must put our best foot forward and demonstrate that the church of Granesh is…”

The saint’s impassioned speech faded into the background as Will’s gaze landed on a young man handing out pieces of paper to the other priests, who then turned to their Climber Parties, speaking softly.

Will’s Acuity allowed him to read a snippet of paper where it was visible past a man’s elbow.

It appeared to be a list of ships.

Will’s eyebrows rose as a snippet of the saint’s speech sunk in.

‘Those who share our conviction.’

So, if…every time there’s a Scramble, they devote all their effort into preserving the most Granesh-friendly ships and crews, then eventually, the entire Flotilla would be Granesh, through sheer attrition.

That didn’t feel like the whole story. It wasn’t like you could predict when a Scramble would happen, and typically the event wasn’t accompanied by a monster attack making it significantly more lethal than it might otherwise have been.