The gangway sat unsteadily between the two ships, swaying as juts of seafoam sprung from the waves that crashed against both hulls. Mist invaded the air, drifted over to Augustus, and left a salty taste in his mouth, one that he had become all too familiar with throughout this long uncomfortable voyage.

He pulled his delicate robe taut, stretching out the wrinkles, then made small adjustments to his garment, making it look as regal as possible. He felt the bumps of the embroidery, the artisan stitching that made his robe a work of art. It was a dress to impress, showcasing his lineage and status as a member of the Castellian family. White stitching over finely woven linen dyed deep reds and yellows, with a pattern that, if you looked closely, told the tale of his family's rise to wealth. It made him a vibrant figure, set amongst the dreary colours of the crew of The Scarlet Wind. Even his attendants wore the cheaper, muted grey, white, and brown colours. It was especially apparent now, with all of the crew gathered together in a crowd about him, although they still left a respectful buffer to not overcrowd him. They were all gathered to greet the other crew, the crew of The Killian.

He watched the crew of The Killian finish placing the rails. The first of them attempted the crossing with a gulp, gripping the railing in one hand, and with his other, he held his wide-brimmed hat in place, guarding against gusts of wind. He took careful steps on the gangway as it swayed from side to side. The wind picked up, sweeping his thin, loose-fitting clothing against the side of his limbs. As he was about to make it to the other side, he reached out to have someone take his hand. Yander DeMerio, the captain of The Scarlet Wind, obliged with a hefty yank, and he pulled the man aboard. Augustus studied the man’s face from a distance, noticing nervousness and a hint of fear. Something about his slow pace and shrunken posture betrayed a reluctance to do his duty.

Augustus looked to his side to see his two trusted attendants looking forward. "That isn't Marcus," he said to them.

Of the members of The Killian, Augustus knew there was but one person he would recognize, their captain, Marcus Dayton. That man was his older brother's former tutor. The man Augustus saw Yander hug and greet was apparently a man of no important standing.

"That must be the first mate," responded Castor. He scratched his bald head, squinting in thought. "Juan, yes, I think I've met him before."

Yander had the man in question by the shoulder. He steered him across the ship–not forcefully, but the way one might guide a drunkard through the streets of Venocia, urging him forward and toward Augustus. In the background, more of the crew of The Killian braved the crossing, but with more confidence than the first man, their supposed first mate.

As Juan approached, his eyes widened, showing recognition of Augustus. The man grabbed his hat from his head to hold it against his chest. He kept his chin tucked in, baring the top of his head as he approached, revealing his bald spot.

Yander released the man for the final few steps, knowing not to be too casual in front of Augustus in such a formal circumstance. Yander straightened his posture from the casual stance of a man among friends to the puffed-out chest, and high chin required when presenting to a man of higher standing.

"Augustus, I present to you the first mate of The Killian, Juan," said Yander with a slight bow. Juan lowered his head in unison, dropping down lower than Yander. An overly deep and respectful bow. "Juan, I present to you Augustus DeCastellian, member of the main branch of the Castellian family and third son of Giovanni DeCastellian."

"It is an h-honour to meet you," said Juan with a stutter before lifting his head and daring eye contact.

"Yes, indeed. Where is Marcus Dayton, your captain?" asked Augustus dryly. He was trying to follow Castor and his father’s teachings, to always stay calm, project confidence, and be observant. They had taught him that emotions could cloud his vision of events, that he should always seek more information, and that only once things have been thought through should any action be taken.

Juan opened his mouth to speak, but the words got caught along the way. With a shaky hand, he pointed out over the side of the ship at the island. "He stays on the island, close to the native village."

"Master Augustus, we should all talk in private," said Castor. "We need to be briefed on what's happened in the past two years."

"Yes, I agree. And the sun is starting to burn my neck. Let’s find some shade." Augustus rubbed the back of his neck as he gestured over to the aft deck, pointing at the wooden door that led to the captain's quarters, a place Augustus had made himself quite accustomed to during the long voyage.

"Please, let's sit down in my quarters," said Yander. "Come on, Juan, I'll pour you a glass of spirits to calm your nerves." Yander put his hand on Juan's shoulder again to steer him and pushed him forward.

Augustus led the way, along with his two personal attendants. They were Castor, his former tutor and now head attendant, and his bodyguard, Heratio. Both followed closely on either side of him. Heratio, ever cautious, rested his hand on the hilt of his sword as he scanned his surrounding, looking between crewmembers of The Killian. Despite his suspicious eyes, Heratio smiled with a casual walking gait. Heratio was much taller than him. He had a round face with bushy eyebrows, a prominent jaw, and wild hair, and his skin tanned darker than Venocians because he was of Brenish descent.

Like Heratio, Augustus tried to study the crew from The Killian as he walked but could only read joy and relief from their faces. Sensible, as they knew they'd soon be returning home.

They entered the spacious naval quarters. A red oak desk and chair faced the aft windows where one could watch the ship's wake as it sailed through the water. In the centre of the room was a dark-stained table with four chairs, where Augustus and his two attendants would always eat with the captain. Two bookcases furnished the walls, along with paintings and a framed map of the known world done in black and white, with diamond red markings to indicate the location of the Castellian-owned ports.

Augustus' eyes wandered for a moment to the green tome, with gold-coloured embossing that sat on a top shelf. His gift to Yander the day they set off on this voyage, months ago. It contained the tale of Allegrio, a merchant sailor, documenting his negotiations with the Synician archipelago and his study of their culture. Augustus felt it was a fitting gift, seeing as the voyage took them along the coast to those very Synician shores before leaving the known lands and venturing deep into the Maysian Ocean.

Yander sat Juan down in a chair, then went to the desk to grab his bottle and two glasses. He placed them down and sat, then poured a generous amount from the bottle into each glass. Across from them sat Augustus and Castor, while Heratio leaned against the wall, ever vigilant.

"See, just like this," said Yander, taking a big swig. Augustus knew it stung the throat, having tried it on one occasion. Juan drank from his glass meekly, only a couple of tiny sips.

Augustus brandished a warm smile. "Enjoy it? Calmed the nerves a bit?" he asked. Juan nodded. "Now then, would you tell us what's transpired here since The Calianis departed?"

Juan looked at Yander first, perhaps for reassurance. Augustus assumed they hadn’t known each other well, but maybe the simple sharing of a profession provided a sort of camaraderie that Juan could draw from. Yander just slapped him on the shoulder and said, "Don't worry, just tell the truth. Augustus is a fair man. I don't know why you're so afraid, but you have nothing to fear from him."

"Where should I begin?" pondered Juan. His eyes looked from side to side as he took deep breaths. "When The Calianis left, things went well. Marcus and a small group of his trusted lieutenants would hike each day into the jungle to meet the natives. I went a few times too. I saw him work to learn their language, immersing himself among them. He would even dress up like them, dance with them... But then things turned... They started to get fevers and would vomit uncontrollably. None of us got sick, which turned out unfortunate because then they blamed us–It wasn't us! That sickness was a curse from Nymis, the god of filth, the mad god. There is no reason for his destructive ways."

"Indeed," said Castor. "That was the will of a god. We must not think of ourselves at fault for how they torment us."

Augustus nodded. "Castor is right. Was that the reason you were scared? Did you think I would admonish you for that?" Despite their efforts to absolve him, Juan's arm visibly shook as it carried his cup up for a big gulp.

Juan gasped from the burning of his throat. "They tried to force us out of the village. Threatened us with their spears. I hear they put a spear right up against Captain Dayton's throat and walked him down the trail to the shore." Juan pushed two fingers from his hand deep into his own neck to illustrate.

Augustus put his hand up just high enough to silence Juan. "So, you weren't there? That's his telling of what happened, right?"

"I didn't see it myself. However, I saw Marcus as he rowed back to the boat and saw the natives behind him in the jungle. I saw the light from their torches... the look of fear on his face too, as he told us what happened."

"And now he lives near their village," said Castor, knitting his eyebrows.

Juan didn’t look up. Instead, he stared at his empty cup. The table vibrated from Juan’s restless legs. "Yes. The night after he returned, he got the crew together. We got out our bows and hiked to their village in the dead of night. See, all they got is spears, and most of 'em were sick or already dead from that curse. It was easy. We loosed arrows and struck down some of ‘em. We didn't have to kill too many, but those we did we hung up in a tree–only as a warning, you see. After that, we haven't had problems with 'em. Marcus mostly lives there now. I don't visit there anymore."

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Augustus looked to Castor for his reaction. He looked like he had been struck by seasickness, but Augustus also knew, through this whole voyage, that Castor never suffered that problem. Castor looked down at an uninteresting spot on the table, the many wrinkles on his forehead appearing prominently as he squinted in thought. Castor wiped his forehead, removing the beads of sweat that had accumulated there.

Augustus turned back to Juan and, with a smile and a calm voice, he said, "Let’s change subjects. Our mission, first and foremost, was trade. This all doesn't matter as long as we make a profit. What is of value here?"

Juan peeked up from his lowered gaze and let out a sigh of relief, smiling back. "There is plenty of wildlife here with interesting coats of fur. We've been skinning and tanning them. The lower deck of The Killian is filled to the brim already, and they've stockpiled more at the base camp. There's a spice that the natives here showed us, made from the bark of a common tree. Also, there's a blue gem here, but we haven't been able to mine it because we didn't have the proper tools."

Yander looked over and nodded. "Augustus, I'll go tell the men to start preparing the rowboats with any supplies that would help with mining. We'll leave for shore as soon as you’re ready."

Yander stood and left. Juan stared longingly at the door after it shut. “Juan,” said Augustus, and Juan turned in a startle. “We will be heading to visit Marcus. Please choose a few of your crew here to act as our guide. However, you look unwell, so wouldn’t it be best for you to stay back here?”

Augustus nodded. Sympathetically, Juan did the same. “Yes, as you wish.”

“No, no. It is you who wishes for it, is it not? You are dismissed.” Augustus gestured to the door, and Juan walked out with a sunken posture, leaving just Augustus and his two attendants.

“Castor, you too look unwell. I think you should stay behind on the ship as well.”

Castor looked shocked. He made a face that begged sympathy, but Augustus just got up from his seat and stared out the window at the rolling waters. "Master Augustus, I assure you I am fine. Besides, this is your first expedition. You may need my advice–"

"Enough. You will wait here. At least then I can assure any mistakes I make will be my own.”

Long ago, back in Venocia, Castor would always take Augustus to the ocean to watch the trade ships leave for their expeditions. Back then, Castor was still strong enough to help Augustus up onto a banister, and, from there, he sat and waved at the Castellian ships he recognized as they came and went. Castor would tell him tales of the expeditions, always giving vivid colour to any place he’d visited personally. Now, Castor’s disappointed face reminded him of the joy and uncharacteristic energy that returned when they learned Augustus was to leave for his first expedition.

The sound of the water splashing up against the ship and the creaking of the boat as it swayed became unbearably noticeable as Castor took his time thinking of his next words. He would know that the matter was closed. Augustus rarely spoke with that tone while uncertain. "You know there's more going on here than Juan told us about. I fear it is something that wouldn't reflect well on the Castellian family," said Castor.

"And what would you have me do? I know something is going on here, but I refuse to go back to Venocia empty-handed. It would be a disgrace. I have too much coin invested in this expedition. " He refrained from raising his voice, but he had a slow cadence to his words that emphasized each point. "Now, you must excuse me. I need to change into more appropriate clothing for a hike through such a jungle."

Augustus left with Heratio following closely behind, going across the deck then down the stairs to the crew's quarters. He changed from his ceremonial robe into light white linens that would fare better in this heat, with Heratio standing guard outside the door. He washed his face with the shaded water that, despite being warm, felt cool against his skin. It cleansed away the accumulation of sticky sweat and weighted down his curly brown hair, temporarily straightening it. How well would he tolerate this oppressive heat while having to trek through what looked like a dense jungle? A wasteful worry, he pushed the thought aside. He packed his ceremonial robes carefully in a distinctly carved wooden chest that he brought above deck.

"Put this in my rowboat," Augustus ordered a random crew member, handing him the chest.

Yander turned from his conversation as soon as he noticed Augustus and approached. "Everything is loaded on the boats. Shall we head out?"

"Yes.”

Yander bellowed out his orders to the crew. They started moving to the rowboats on either side of the ship. Augustus narrowed his sights on the three crew of The Killian that were chosen to be their guides. He walked over to them and the rowboat next to them. He introduced himself and invited them to use the same boat as him. Heratio held the boat steady while Augustus climbed aboard. When Heratio let go, the boat swung, throwing him off balance. It took a second for Augustus to catch his balance and, once he did, he was thrown again by the next person coming aboard.

The sea-tested members of The Killian crew hopped over gracefully and, with sure footing, moved around to make room for each new occupant of the boat. With a gesture from Augustus, they lowered the boat into the water. He grabbed the side of the rowboat tightly, an unintended reflex to the jarring impact with the water.

"Don't worry, Master Augustus," said Heratio with a chuckle. "We won't capsize. Besides, even if we did, we'd just get a bit wet. We got two ships full of people that would be all too happy to save a member of the Castellian family."

Except for Augustus, the men got hold of their oars and rowed toward the island. Augustus, exempted by his status, stared off at the island. These were unknown lands to the population of Venocia. He'd read books telling tales of explorers and always found them exciting. Now, he could hardly believe that his first time leaving the city of Venocia would be, not just as a merchant, but as an explorer too.

The shore slowly approached. Along the coast was a thick wall of vegetation with a canopy that went up five stories high and sat behind a small beach. He heard the strange sounds of exotic beasts from within. Birds of fanciful colour flew out from a branch, then back in to disappear again. When Augustus looked over the side of the boat, he saw the water forming ripples next to the hull, but the water remained clear enough to make out the fish swimming beneath the surface.

"How has your time been here these past two years?" asked Augustus.

"It… It has been good, Master… DeCastellian. Though, it will be better to go home."

"Oh. Don’t be so nervous. I'm Augustus DeCastellian. Who are you?"

"I'm Gregor. But a simple, loyal man in the employ of your great family. I apologize for not knowing who you were–I should have. Your older brother Giovannus has sailed with us before."

"Think nothing of it. It makes sense that you wouldn't recognize me. This is my first expedition, after all. How did you fare with my brother?"

"Your brother is a great man, like all in your family, " Gregor said with full confidence. "If I may ask, how old are you?"

"This past winter made me seventeen,” replied Augustus. “Time enough for me to start leaving home to earn my keep."

He used the time to talk with the others on the boat, doing his best to drop any pretence that could come from his status. He wore a warm smile and spoke with enthusiasm, doing as his father once advised, asking them about their lives. His father said once, “Sailors away from home will talk endlessly about their home. For their talking is a form of remembrance. All you need to do is give them the prompting, and they grab onto that like a buoy, to disappear in their memory.”

Augustus asked them about their families, their hobbies, and their skills. They responded with great enthusiasm, talking far more casually than Augustus’ servants back home would. Augustus soaked it up, committing the little details to his memory.

After Gregor finished talking about his family back home, Augustus mentioned the letters they’d brought. “I must confess, I forgot about those letters until just now. I will make sure to distribute them to your crew as soon as possible. I haven’t read the letters, but they must say how well they are doing since they are collecting a portion of your pay.” The words brought a bright smile to Gregor’s face.

They beached the boat in the shallow water. He made sure to imitate the others when they cast off their shoes and jumped into the water. He splashed into the water, feeling the mud squish between his toes. The others got a rope from the boat that they used to pull it onto land. Augustus just watched them work. He had a slender frame and none of the musculature that came from the hard labour that these men often performed. They were all strong and muscular, a stark contrast to Augustus’ thin frame. Despite that strength, they still needed to work together with timed heaving to move the boat.

Augustus took a step onto dry land, the first he’d taken outside of Venocia his entire life. The ground was a mixture of sand and rocks that felt like hot coal against his bare feet. He hopped from foot to foot briskly, moving forward until he landed on some cooler soil.

“Master Augustus, here are your shoes!” shouted Heratio, with the final rowboat dragged up onto land. He threw the shoes with a high-arched toss into a bush nearby. “Let’s move the boat a bit further to keep it safe when the tide comes in.”

Other rowboats landed shortly after. The crew worked like an orchestrated dance piling up the crates, chests, and bags near the head of the trail, then gathered diligently. They weighed each other down with as much as each could carry, except Augustus, Heratio, and the captain, Yander. Yander got one of the crew of The Killian to lead the way, and, single file, they started along the trail.

After they passed the threshold of the outer foliage and bushes, the underbrush surprised Augustus. Rather than a slow trek, hacking away at branches and thrush, the tree trunks were spaced enough to make travel almost leisurely. Augustus felt the cool air, and it came as a great relief. Pillars of light came down from gaps in the canopy, illuminating the ground with bright spots as if a painter flicked a paintbrush at an empty canvas.

"If I may be honest–I didn't expect a Castellian to bother coming out here,” said Gregor. “It's a long voyage, and there are always risks on such a long voyage, so far from land. Especially considering that it's your first voyage."

"This is an important expedition. The first trade mission to a new land, this will be written about. My father felt it fitting for a name from our family to adorn those pages.". Augustus grabbed at the root system of a large tree as he scrambled up an incline. He looked back to see Gregor struggle. Although strong, Gregor moved slowly and carefully because of his unusual centre of mass. Augustus thought to lend him a hand—No, their differences in status should always remain clear. He knew that.

"Have you visited the base camp often? How is it there?"

Gregor seemed to sink his head and averted his gaze. It took him a moment to respond. He started and stopped a few times without getting a word out. "I've not been there often. I mainly stay on the ship. You will soon see it for yourself, so I don't want to say something that could be quickly proven false."

"Any interesting foods out here?" Interjected Heratio.

"Yes. There's this spice that the natives showed us, it wasn't to my liking at first, but it's grown on me, I must say. There are also the turtles. Such a delicious animal. Extremely moist meat when cooked."

Heratio smacked his lips together and smiled. “I would very much like to try those turtles.”

“Yeah, you need to go by ship to a cliff face that can’t be accessed by land to get them. They are giant. Their humps are as tall as a full-grown man.”

“Maybe we can get a few before heading back to Venocia,” said Augustus. “I’ll ask the captain before we leave.”

The hike had a gradual incline. Augustus’ feet and legs felt sore, but he refused to show weakness in front of the others. Especially since their labour looked so much more impressive with all that extra weight. He kept his mind from his exhaustion by marvelling at all the unique flora and fauna. Even the moss that grew on the trunks was different. The bugs were larger, the bird calls sounded unlike anything he’d heard before, and even the seeds that fell from the trees looked strange.