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1.08 - Stormfront

There are some who see an approaching storm as an omen of doom, but the wise seafarer accepts the ocean in all her forms. To battle against the changing tides is a war you cannot win.

-Excerpt from “The Divine Encyclopaedia, Volume 3” published by the College of Divine Studies at Tidespire Keep

They sailed into the oncoming storm during the night, and Rose woke to the frantic shouts of the crew as they rushed to prepare the ship for the furious winds and torrential rains.

After all her learning, she had the knowledge and training to help them out, but when she took her first tentative steps out onto the deck, clad in just a form fitting dress and her leather boots, a gust of wind almost blew her off the side of the ship. Jade appeared from nowhere, yanking her arm so hard it felt like it had popped from its socket and throwing her onto the wooden planks beneath.

“Keep your legs spread wide or you’ll end up in the ocean. And we can’t stop to save you, so if that happens then it’s no more Rose,” she shouted while handing her a rope, just about audible over the deafening sounds of the storm. “Hold this tight, and when I give you the signal pull with all your strength.”

The captain had appeared for the first time since their last meeting, hand clutching a three pointed blue and gold hat to his head, drinking in the situation with an analytical gaze. His embellished jacket fluttered in the wind, and unlike the bookish shut-in Rose had taken him for during their first meeting he now filled the mould of a stoic hero of the seas as he barked orders to each of the crew before taking hold of the wheel and locking it in place in a display of strength that didn’t fit his wiry frame.

He caught her eye and his straight lips curled upward just a tad and he threw her a wink. Perhaps the situation wasn’t as bad as it seemed. There was a first time for everything after all, and Rose hoped this wouldn’t be the last storm she weathered on board a ship.

She heard a faint, familiar yell to her right and panicked, letting the rope in her grasp slip a little. It began to carry her with it, but after a herculean effort she stilled its momentum and looked to the source of the shout, catching sight of Jade frantically waving at her.

Rose didn’t understand what she was trying to say but the message was clear. She dug in her heels and heaved on the rope, every inch won a desperate struggle against the gale force winds that lay on the other end of the tug-of-war.

However, she wasn’t battling alone and through the combined efforts of the crew they brought the ship under control. The sails had been furled—leaving them open risked the winds ripping through them and leaving them stranded once the weather had calmed. All that remained was to sit tight and hope Unrequited Love was able to see them through.

The captain waved them all back inside once things were under control. Only Derrick and Jordan remained on deck. The quartermaster was at the wheel, ensuring they didn’t veer too far off course and Jordan stayed near the masts to catch any stray rigging that might come loose.

She’d planned to head to the mess and grab an early breakfast alongside the others, but Captain Bradshawe waved her up to the poop deck. Rose followed him into the corridor that housed his quarters, his office and the map room of the ship.

Once they were inside and the sounds of the storm were kept away by the thick wooden door, he took off his captain’s hat and motioned for her to follow him into the office. Rose was curious what the man wanted but it was rare to get a moment alone with him. She stayed silent and took a seat opposite him at the desk, which was messy with open books, quills and the familiar ink jar.

“I noticed you drawing last night. What level is your skill at, if you have it?” he asked, once again looking the part of a mousy librarian rather than the bold captain he had been moments before.

“You did? I thought I picked a quiet spot to draw in, but I guess it’s hard to escape every gaze. Actually, I reached level ten yesterday. Earned the first trait. I’m rather pleased with myself,” she replied.

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“Very impressive, given your age. Most don’t reach level ten in a skill until they’re seventeen or so, unless they focused on just one. How old are you, by the way? I guessed around sixteen, but looks can be deceiving.”

“I turned fifteen quite recently. A week before you found me, in fact. And drawing isn’t my only skill at level ten, I’m level twelve in fishing too.”

Divulging so much about her status to what was ostensibly a stranger may have been a risk, but Rose trusted the captain, and the crew. They had shown her tremendous warmth and hospitality since rescuing her and even though she had only been on board the ship for six days felt like she was becoming part of the family.

“That’s a magnificent achievement—one you can take real pride in. Do you know how to read and write? I’ve found myself in need of an assistant for some of the accounts and ledgers and Derrick is far too busy dealing with matters of the ship to pick up the slack. It’s fine if you can’t, though it may mean more studying—which I’m sure you’re tired of after Felix’s crash course.”

A rumble of thunder and a flash of lightning interrupted the conversation, and Rose jumped in her seat. The captain remained still, even as the waves splashed against the windows of the office.

Given that they were ten metres above the water level that was quite frightening, but he would know better than her if there was any trouble.

“I can read rather well. My father taught me, so I could read the story books to myself when he grew tired of me asking for the same ones every night. Writing I’m not so proficient at, but it shouldn’t be difficult to practise. What exactly would I be helping you with?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just updating the ship’s log and doing inventory for our food, water, and other supplies. I could teach you the basics of the finances too, though there won’t be much need for that until we arrive at Highbream. What do you say?”

“I’m happy to help. It’s the least I can do to repay you for saving my life.”

“Not at all, anyone would’ve done the same in our place. It’s a sailor’s honour, to look out for each other.”

“I see. I’ll keep that in mind, but I’m still grateful. Should we start now? I was going to eat breakfast but it can wait.”

“Sure,” he replied, handing a heavy book bound in worn brown leather over to her.

Rose laid the book on her lap and gave it a cursory glance. It was filled with lengthy paragraphs written in difficult to read scrawls. She guessed it was the ship’s log. The inventory book and any ledgers would be more organised and have more numbers. This looked like a story.

“Can you understand it?” asked the captain.

“The writing is a little messy, but I get the gist.”

“Yes, I have quite poor handwriting. My mother always scolded me for it as a child, but despite the best efforts of my tutors I was never able to improve much. Even now I can’t advance beyond level fourteen—and I spend most of my days cooped up in here with the quill and ink.”

“That’s a lot better than me.”

“You have a decade to catch up, Rose. Don’t make an old man feel so lacking. Now, read that first paragraph out loud to me, then copy it down onto this sheet of paper,” he said, placing an off white sheet on the desk in front of her, along with a shorter quill than his own crafted from a scarlet feather.

She looked down at the first word written on the page. Right above it was a brownish-red stain that she hoped wasn’t blood. After taking a breath, Rose began to read.

“Twelfth of Erelis’an, year six hundred and twenty-three of the fourth surge, sixday.”

“You can read the date then, not many can with such accuracy. Good. Continue.”

Her mother had taught her how to read the date, tell the time and a plethora of other little bits and bobs that it might be useful for her to know. Plenty of folk back in Fairwater Bay didn’t bother. After all, if you just needed to know that when the sun rose you were heading out to fish and when it set you got in bed, was there a need for anything more?

At the very least, everyone knew that a year had three hundred and sixty days, split into twelve months of thirty days, which were named for the twelve major deities of the Divine Pantheon.

Erelis was the Goddess of the New Bloom, a domain of life and renewal. Her month was the first of the year, and signalled the end of winter and the beginning of spring, at least in The Bluestone Sea. It may have been different elsewhere, though the order of the months was constant across the known world. The Allfaith Order ensured it.

Rose continued, reading from the first line of the actual body of the log. “Today we are preparing to leave Pallis for the Felmoor Archipelago. I was unable to source any grassweed, which is a major source of frustration. The herb is in high demand in the archipelago and we would have turned a great profit. At least Jade’s expert haggling has filled the hold with cheap bloodfruit and Zorian maplewine. Last night, while in the tavern, we met a young man with similar hair to my own. He was hiding from someone, and while at our table started to babble in incoherent streams of nonsense. Jordan took a liking to the youth, Felix, and through a somewhat strange turn of events we now have a new member of the crew…”