II-The Calm Storm
The humans had done the impossible: against all odds, they had crossed through the eternal sea barrier of the world.
A few souls had been lost, but otherwise, the crossing of the Ring of Storms was considered a success for no single ship was claimed by the Roaring Sea.
The sun crossed over the horizon and rose in the sky as it banished the accursed Ring of Storms and the cadaver of the Moon of Thalon into the depths of the ocean behind the humans.
The settlers all patiently waited for the sun's orange and gold rays to bless them. No one had slept through the storm, and now everyone waited on deck to witness their first sign of hope.
Miria stepped forward to Gilbert with a single tear in her eye. She could not believe they had made it. Everyone stared in awe at the rising sun, and as the beacon of hope revealed itself, the first captain turned to his queen.
“The first sun of a new world. I have been many places, seen a lot of strange things, but this . . . for some reason, this is something else.”
The queen smiled happily at the captain and answered. “Amazing how such a familiar sight can change its meaning so quickly, isn't that right, captain?”
Gilbert laughed as he slumped over the helm, enjoying the scenery. “That it is, queen. That it is indeed.”
While everyone looked at the sunrise and thanked the gods for their protection, the queen picked up a spyglass and searched for signs of the remainder of the fleet. However, she was graced with nothing, but the blue ocean. The three ships led by Jameston and Rorrick were nowhere to be seen.
The queen's voice took on a tone of worry. She set the spyglass down and spoke with urgency to the tired captain. “Gilbert! I don't see Jameston's or Rorrick's ships anywhere—what do we do?”
The seasoned captain decided his break was over. He quickly stood up, cracking his back into place. With a slight groan of pain, he answered his worried superior. “Don't worry queen, if they got the message they will stick to the plan and meet us later. We'll just keep heading west, do some charting, and if they’re lucky, maybe they'll meet up with us. If they don't, well . . . just don't think about it if they don't. Do what you do best as a queen and help everyone keep their spirits up. We just survived the edge of the world—the last thing these people need is to feel despair again.”
Miria looked with a twinge of worry to the distance. She sighed and forced a smile. “Very well. Captain Gilbert, bring us to some new land then.”
“Aye, Your Highness.” Gilbert expertly turned the helm and set the fleet back on course, westward.
The settlers mourned their friends and family who had fallen from Jameston's ships. Unlike Miria's passengers, the sun rays did not bring them hope; the salt burned their skin and their tears dried, as mothers cried for their drowned children.
Jameston looked upon his people from the helm. He felt their pain, but he also sensed peace in his heart; he knew the death of a handful of settlers and his scribe was Fortuna’s will. He needed only to stay true to her.
The first mate was frowning at the count when out of nowhere a sailor emerged from the weeping masses to announce a new problem. “My lord, we are out of food. Most of the cargo was lost in the storm.”
Jameston smiled as the first mate and the sailor both looked at him with confusion and horror. “Fortuna has given us another chance to prove her protection over us.”
“What do you mean, lord?” The first mate asked, fearing both temporal and spiritual punishment.
Jameston shook his head in disapproval of his first mate's lack of faith. “Do you have a bottle?”
“Huh, yes. I got a flask of liquor here.”
“Give it to me.” The first mate passed the bottle to the count, and after he had dumped the liquor in the ocean, he placed it on the floor and spun it around.
The first mate's anger was contained by his fear of the count, and as the bottle spun, the count rose up and told his people, “My subjects, do not cower! I shall prove to you that we are still blessed. I will spin this bottle and we'll follow its directions and arrive on our promised land!”
The people below did not know what to think. They clung to the uncertainty of the gods’ protection, like a gambler to the next hand, hoping the count would win them the pot.
Everyone watched the bottle spin. Jameston crouched and frowned at the prospect of making a terrible decision. Then the sailor exclaimed.
“Sir, look! It's the dove from the royal armada.”
Jameston lifted himself up and looked back, his expression bewildered as he saw the dove fly down from the heavens, supported by the golden rays of the west. The same sun that brought hope to the Mirian fleet finally brought it to Jameston.
As the dove flew ahead and landed, the people felt a renewed hope, as if the gods themselves had sent the dove to guide them.
“They’re plans from the royal fleet, my lord.” As the sailor said this, Jameston felt like the God of earth, Lutum, was tearing open a colossal chasm inside him.
On one side of his coin was his loyalty to the queen, his true divinely ordained sovereign; on the other side, his loyalty to the goddess who had helped him achieve all he had.
The people and his crown called for the queen. His soul and his coin called for the goddess. For once, Jameston could not flip his royal coin, for he knew what answer it would give him.
With a scream to the heavens that sent the dove flying back east to old Vaelia, Jameston made his decision, and his old self disappeared with the dove. He pointed to the sky and the bottle. “Let Luck decide!”
The bottle then stopped spinning and pointed southwest.
“Sail that direction, no matter what.”
Waves bathed the reef rocks that sprouted from the deep blue domain. In a small cluster of multicolored sea flowers, above the ocean line and the waves, Stein slowly awoke. The ocean water rose up and covered him, before sliding back to the deep.
Stein took a moment to inspect where he was. Among the multicolored sea flowers and the rising reefs that enveloped him, he saw an opening in the middle of the rocks—a door to the ocean below. In it, his savior patiently waited for his senses to return.
Her lower body and legs were submerged in the water, while she used her arms to pick a few of the reef coral in reach.
Stein was still in shock from the ordeal that he suffered: the storm, his encounter with this woman from the depths, and now his survival. All thanks to her.
He moved slowly so he wouldn’t startle her, pulling a small booklet from his pocket, only to realize that it was drenched and unusable.
The scribe wanted to write about her behavior. He had heard stories of strange creatures in the ocean—odd tales from fishermen whose accuracy could not be entirely trusted.
To see new a sight like this was worthy of note.
Alas, Stein realized his only option was to observe and write about her later, if there was a later.
The scribe noted that while outside of the water, her scale colors stopped in a cold shade of blue, and her kelp like hair seemed to shrink. But in the water, her feet and legs glistened with innumerable colors and kept her body afloat above the ocean hole in the reef.
The woman examined various reef herbs and carefully harvested some odd specimens from the underwater flora, joining them in a sort of flower bouquet.
Then she noticed that Stein had awoken and slowly turned to face him.
“Hello?”
The woman looked confused.
“I guess you can't understand me,” he continued. “Well, thanks for saving me either way.”
He tried his best to mime her saving him.
Stein had already ruled out the idea that the woman was not intelligent, but when she smiled at his miming, he knew for sure that she was not an irrational beast.
She carefully put her herb bouquet next to Stein, and eating a small piece of it, she gestured for the scribe to do the same.
The smell was strong, but not wanting to disrespect his savior, Stein took a small mixture of herbs from the bouquet and ate it.
Like he expected, it tasted like salt and spices. However, after eating it, Stein felt invigorated again. Just like when the woman had saved him from death, Stein felt his energy return and his drowsiness disappear.
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He wondered if this was a usual diet for the woman's kind, if there were more like her, and if it had some correlation to her physiology.
The scribe wished he could communicate with the woman; he was fascinated with her. There were so many questions racing through his mind, yet all he could do was wait and watch her. In fact, he was so intrigued by her that he had almost entirely forgotten that he was now stranded in the ocean without drinkable water or the means to contact his country’s ships.
The scribe had spent his life at the palace in Silvin. He was always surrounded by dusty tomes and limited to hearing accounts of fantastical tales from books. But now that he stood right in front of a new discovery, he could hardly contain his happiness.
He couldn't care less if he was stranded. The mere fact that he had survived, that he had encountered a brand new species—and the fact he would probably not need to see Jameston again—made him truly happy in a way that he had not felt since before Jameston arrived at the palace when he was a kid.
Suddenly, the woman pulled his scribe’s coat and gestured for Stein to look upwards.
To Stein's disbelief, the Mirian ships were approaching.
Stein wondered if it was luck, but he quickly drowned such thoughts; they brought him rage and fury that he did not want to show his savior.
The woman pulled him toward her, and after she had grabbed Stein's hand, she kissed it and handed him an odd-looking spiral shell. After Stein smiled back at her, she dived back into the mysterious blue ocean below and disappeared.
Stein was in awe of his encounter, his soul and mind racing with all sorts of emotions and thoughts. But before he could process any of it, he carefully put the gift from the sea woman into his pocket and climbed up the rocks to signal the ships.
He waved his arms and screamed at the top of his lungs to the royal fleet, and surely, they noticed him and sailed toward the scribe.
In his mind, he decided to keep his encounter a secret. He came up with a fake story about how he had survived by holding on to several wood planks.
He did not know why he felt such an intense need to keep it a secret. Perhaps he felt he would be betraying his savior. Or, maybe, he just wanted time to research and find her again.
Either way, he stroked the shell in his pocket, and instead of thanking the gods, he thanked his savior and hoped he would meet her again and find a way to thank her with his own words, rather than just in gestures.
“Oh Captain
Oh Captain
Can we have some gold?
Shut up, lad
Shut up, lad
Before I put ya in the hold.
Oh Captain
Oh Captain
The crew wants its share.
Shut up, lad.
Shut up, lad.
Ship's mine, 'n it's fair.
Oh Captain!
Oh Captain!
Give us the gold!
Shut up, lads!
Shut up, lads!
And do as yer told!
Oh Captain!
Oh Captain!
Then drown with yer gold.
Shut up, Lads!
Shut up, Lads!
Ya do this cause I'm old!”
The pirates sang their shanty to the ballad of the waves as they celebrated their crossing of the Ring of Storms.
“She's still got it in her lads. There really ain't no better ship in Vaelia like Salty Susan here,” First Mate Ivan shouted to the skies and the crew.
A sailor stepped forward.
“Oh don' sell yerself short like that Ivan, we got Salty Susan here thanks to yer captainship.”
“Aye, good old Ivan never lets us drown,” another sailor said as he heard a slight grumble next to him.
“He ain't that great . . .”
The spirit on the mercenary ship was lighthearted and hopeful. To all of them, it felt like a lifetime achievement. But they remembered their bound duty when Rorrick appeared on deck.
“Indeed, that was some beautiful seafaring you did there. Once we all get established, I'll make sure to write a ballad so we never forget this moment. It's a promise,” Rorrick said, smiling at the mercenary crew. But only a few smiled back.
There was an uncomfortable silence for a minute or two, and the rays of sunlight barely pierced through the clouds. Like the weather, the trust toward their captain was cloudy and uncertain.
The sailors saw Rorrick as an outsider and a representative of the Crown—which he was, to an extent.
In those few uncomfortable minutes, Rorrick looked warily between the faces of the crew until Ivan broke the silence.
“Aye. We crossed the Ring of Storms, which no one but us and the royal fleet on this side has done.” Ivan stumbled through the deck and toward the rest of the crew, his boots thudding on the deck. “We have the cargo stacked with food and gold,” the planks underneath his boots cracked with the weight of his and the sailors’ realization, “and a brand-new world to explore.”
Rorrick felt something was off in Ivan's enunciation and tried to re-affirm his authority. “Huh, y-yes, you. I mean, we, have all that, and we're going to follow the royal fleet! Isn't that right Ivan?” The bard nervously asked as he felt like the planks were falling from under him.
Ivan kept quiet, mulling over their predicament, then he turned back to the bard. His expression changed to a devious smile. "Nay. We no longer have any obligation to you or the Crown. From now on, we are free. Free to sail and do what we want! What do you say, lads? Are ye all with me?!”
Rorrick felt the sun disappear as the clouds blocked the last remnants of light. To his dismay, after a few seconds, the majority of the crew raised their arms to the sky and proclaimed in unison: “Aye! Hurrah for Ivan!”
A few went against the mob and joined Rorrick's side. They were both young and old and from them, a sailor that looked remarkably like Ivan spoke out. “Ivan! Ya can't do this. This is mutiny, brother! He don't look like it, but he's still our captain—we have a code to respect.”
Ivan laughed as his loyal sailors picked him up, and from the top of his mob, he spoke. “Oh but I ain't, brother. We would be breaking a code if we were still in Vaelia. As far as I know, we have sailed past the edge of the world. Any deal we have made no longer works here. Give up Henrik, ya can't win this one.”
Henrik felt powerless to speak against his older brother, but mustered all his courage. His blue gaze pierced like a storm, and as he pulled the sleeves of his blue jacket, Henrik threatened Ivan. “Well then it's mutiny! We are loyal to the captain. We will follow our old code and throw ya out then!”
Ivan’s crew laughed at the empty threat.
Rorrick was surprised to see that even a handful had decided to stay by his side. He sneakily put his lute behind his back and took an odd-looking dagger from a secret compartment. After, he hid it in his sleeve and stood his ground with his supporters.
“Well ain't ya look at that! We have a mutiny boyos! What do ya say we do with 'em?” Ivan mockingly asked his crew.
“I say stick 'em to the mast!”
“Nay, tie 'em up in the ship's hold!”
“No boyos, put 'em in a rowboat and send 'em to the Sea Devils.”
After the last one spoke, the sailors all raised their voices in a resounding “Aye!”.
Ivan looked with disdain at his brother and the crew that surrounded the bard. “Oh brother, ya were always a stubborn little brat. Round 'em up, boyos.”
The sailors surrounded the faithful crew who in turn raised their black carrack swords. Rorrick, however, stopped them. “Don't. It's fruitless.”
“But Captain!”
“It's an order! Trust me, I have been in situations like this before. We are at a severe disadvantage. If we fight, it's only going to end in our deaths. At least the sea might be merciful.”
“Captain, we can't just allow for them to do this!” Henrik said, looking fiercely at the surrounding mob of sailors.
“I know, you are feeling angry, but trust me. For now, put your sword down, Henrik.”
“Captain's right, Henrik. I can't believe our own friends and crew could do this, but let's follow the captain's orders. If we don't, we're no better than this band of traitors,” an elderly and seasoned sailor said through his bushy white beard, as he tried to calm his mate and hold the sailors at bay.
Henrik shook with the sword in his hand and after he had spit on the deck of the ship, he slowly sheathed his sword. “Aye aye, Captain.”
Ivan gave a devious smile and issued his orders. “Thank ya, Mr. Rorrick, I guess ya weren't that bad of a captain after all. Put 'em in the rowboat.”
The sailors seized the loyal crew's swords and placed them one by one on a rowboat without supplies. Rorrick kept his dagger hidden and peacefully sat with his companions on the rowboat.
The traitorous sailors dropped them into the Roaring Sea.
“Bye my friends. Say hello to the goddess Aqua for me when you see her,” Ivan mocked as the rowboat hit the water.
Soon enough, the Salty Susan fled into the horizon, and as the crew sighed collectively Henrik asked the bard, “Well, where to Captain?”
Rorrick had a vacant look. He did not wish to let the sailors down, but he had no idea where they were or which direction they should take. His head felt heavy as he tried to think of a plan.
“Uh, Captain?”
Rorrick thought and thought. But no matter what, he could not think of a scheme to escape.
“Captain?”
He blamed himself—he had escaped so many worse situations before. Why could he not solve this one?
“Captain!”
“What Henrik!? I’m trying to think!”
“There’s a dove on yer head.”
Rorrick silently realized that, indeed, a dove had landed on his blonde head.
As the sailors looked dumbfounded, he slowly grabbed the dove and checked its feet. He could not believe it; once again, his long-time lover, Miria, had sent him his salvation.
Tied to the dove were the plans the royal captains had agreed upon. Rorrick jumped with glee as he shouted hurrah’s and yes’s, almost tipping the rowboat.
“Captain .calm down! Are those the plans from the royals?” A sailor said from the side of the boat.
“Yes! Indeed they are. Oh, I knew my beloved Miria would never let me down!” Rorrick kissed the paper.
“That's great news! So where are we headed?”
“I—I don’t know. I can't read these. I don't know how your sailor speak works,” Rorrick said as he shamefully sat back down again.
“Ack, gimme that.” The white-bearded sailor said, taking the paper from the bard's hand. “Well, lads. If we're lucky, I think we may just make it. We need to go west.”
The crew felt a renewed sense of hope. They grinned at each other and looked with trust at the bard.
“Well, so where we heading, Captain?” Henrik said with starry eyes, almost forgetting the fight with his brother.
“My faithful crew, let us sail west! Toward bountiful new lands!”
“Aye, Captain!” The crew said in unison with resounding praise as they started to paddle, for their new goal and for survival.