The Winds of Tridecim
We loaded the Piersym Rowe, the biggest freighter on the lake, on the 22nd of Duodecim, one more big load before the major shipping was going to shut down for the winter. Mostly iron and steel that had been refined at our smelter, headed down to Steel Falls for further work, along with some jewelry for sale. They were supposed to bring in a load of grain to bolster our stores through the winter.
Not even a full day after they set sail, the winds started. The winds of Tridecem, sure, but Tridecim hadn't started yet. You could always count on the winds by the 20th, and sometimes they'd set in mid-month, but no one living had seen them in the first week, much less starting up in Duodecim. But as the cold poured down from the mountains, we knew they were coming, and they would be bad. For once, we hoped the crew had made poor time and hadn't gotten out into the deep water by the rocky shores yet.
The storm was as bad of one as I've ever seen - the winds pummeled the docks, and only the docks hewn from the rocky shore survived. The stout evergreens bowed under the pressure of the wind and sleet, as their branches became crusted with ice. You couldn't be outside for long before risking frostbite, and we all hunkered down to wait it out.
By the middle of Tridecem, the storm had blown itself out. The first patches of ice were starting to form, and we'd heard nothing back from the Rowe. We sent a group down the coast to the fishing villages, and the news was discouraging. They had seen the ship pass by before the winds hit, and it was almost certain to be caught in the open water. We prayed for them, but there was nothing more we could do. It would have to wait for the thaw, and we'd have to get by with the supplies we had.
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