He was able to get a small blank book with a hardcover made of leather. It smelled funny. It was a perfect book for keeping a journal. Along with this journal was a writing stick that was the size of his middle finger. Writing sticks were popular in the Old World and were better than the ink and pen that usually made him almost throw fits of anger. He hated dipping the pen on the ink bottle. They were also cheaper to buy, although some preferred ink and pen as it made them feel elegant. In the end, however, it was still a tool used to write, and he couldn't understand why people preferred one over the other.
As for why he bought these items, he had to have something that would keep his mind in check. He had no convent, confessional stand, convenient bystander, or friend who could understand the words of the lost. Two years after he escaped Fort Rava, he became a member of the Frontiersmen of Old Carthan, but he had no one to share his thoughts with and didn't want to share them either. This journal was his way of examining his thoughts. To understand himself.
As he neared the docks where the Grand-Galleon was, he saw the beautiful elven woman who had graced this town. Her hair reminded him of the color of wheat, and her movements were so graceful that they stunned him. He felt like a creep for eyeing the maiden, but she was the fair maiden who had come here to share her people's art and provide help.
The help that came from their Artes, rare spells that the Elvens used. The Elvens themselves were rare and few, and to pursue them was immoral and illegal. Evil men had wanted to get their hands on the Elvens, but as they were blessed by Nature, capturing them was an impossibility.
Her maiden's name was Eletha Erna of Roan, and though she was of smaller stature even for a woman-elf, she had earned the respect of the people of Old Carthan. The people of Old Carthan don't trust people, and seldom do they have good thoughts towards the elven, so it was astonishing to him how she could gather the trust of these people.
As he found himself staring at her, her cold eyes sent him packing. He had it in his mind that there was no way for him to acquaint with a woman-elf of her caliber. He was avoiding her and watching from afar in fear that his curious eyes would disgust her. But then again, his whole world did not revolve around her. He couldn't help but admire her like a beautiful flower seated upon a golden mountain. After all, her status was the same as Holy in the eyes of men.
Going back to the journal with empty pages, he bought this journal in hopes of discerning his thoughts. Elder Khan, a good friend, and a teacher of the Academy in Accad, master of sword and bow, had lectured him in his theology classes about memories from past lives. He described memories as strange tiny lightning that formed a complex web inside the head.
"What happens to the lightning inside our heads? We know that lightning itself can conduct through lightning rods, so what happens to our memories?"
He believed that his memories were his own. Memories of metal birds and weapons that could destroy nations. Most of these memories were blurry, and he would forget most of these dreams.
He came to Old Carthan to ease his concerns over his dreams. In the library of Old Carthan, there were books written by old people who remembered their memories. He was convinced that some of them were imaginations, while others made him feel as though their experiences were the same as his. Despite this, he did not abandon these memories. The use of these memories had landed him a job to join the Thousand Islands Expedition. His life in Fort Rava had taught him to accept the imaginations inside his head as tools. He used them to his advantage instead of seeing them as a disability. He was sure that he wouldn't be here if he didn't accept them.
Nonetheless, he was commissioned by the Lord of Angus, through Magistrate Abad. It was his first time seeing a Magistrate, one who had been guarding Old Carthan against foes. He remembered the Magistrate seated with discerning eyes, watching as he allowed him to join the voyage.
He was assigned to one of the Grand-Galleons as a doctor. His position was eclipsed by the title of Healer, which belonged to Lady Eletha of Roan, the Lady of the Ship. There was also a Surgeon coming later, which made his position even lower.
Before he began living on the Grand-Galleon, he gathered his belongings and placed them in his cabin. His cabin was located in the last deck of the ship, near the office and clinic of the Grand-Galleon, the deepest part of the ship appointed by the Chaplain. He believed that it was placed here to prevent the smell of the dead from contaminating the decks. The Grand-Galleon did not stack bodies unless it was necessary. The Surgeon would handle most of those things, but he was there to help if he could.
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Upon entering his cabin, he found a single bed and a chest where he would store most of his things. Most of his valuables were inside his satchels. As for the office and clinic, it had beds made for patients, partitioned by a wall next to the surgery room. It also functioned as a morgue in case they needed to wrap a body or perform an autopsy. They did not stack the dead inside the Grand-Galleon. Like any ship, they threw the bodies overboard.
Back in his cabin, there were wooden pots placed near a round glass window, where a shaft of sunlight entered. He wondered why a bolted round window with thick glass was placed on the sixth deck, and how sunlight could penetrate despite the thick layer of seawater. He had no idea.
He had brought plants from his friend, and the idea of making use of them calmed him for a reason he did not understand. He turned to his table and placed his journal on the surface.
He had purchased the journal to write down his ideas and make use of them. Although some people might call him mad for keeping a box of molded bread that he had bought for five coopers, these ideas or imaginations were sometimes useful.
The box of molded bread was hidden under a loose plank that he had made for himself. The bakers who sold it to him must have thought he was mad. He hoped to use the molded bread as a medicine when it turned bluish, as his imaginations had told him to do. He had no idea how he could use it, but he believed it could become useful. The potted plants inside his wooden pots were the proof.
The pots contained rough brown plants that his friend had grown. When roasted, they produced a taste he had never experienced before, especially when sliced into thin pieces, deep-fried, and salted. The taste was heavenly in his mouth, and he kept the plants with the thought of eating them again.
This cabin filled with wooden pots was his home now. Even though it was his home, he couldn't stand the rolling of the Grand-Galleon yet. So after he placed his purchases in the chest, he sauntered to the nearest dives where he might entertain himself with a few card games and a roll of dice. Cooper Bar was one of the many dives that sailors frequented. It was close to the docks, and no one would find a thug in this place because of the drunken sailors who were cranky enough to beat down anyone who tried anything when they were on shore leave.
He liked the place. He drank here and wasted his time. He didn't know if it was the merry cheering, the drink, or the fear of the journey to the unknown, but when he walked out of that bar, he saw Lady Eletha playing a stringed instrument in her leisure. She was enjoying herself on a fence railing, basked by the shaft of moonlight that shone on her golden-wheat-like hair, creating melodies that soothed the soul. The Lady of the Grand-Galleon called the Milostiv played her sonata.
She would be the Lady of the Ship, the one who would guide them to the Thousand Islands. None could compare to an elf when it came to searching for new land; they were like treasures, but far from fragile. If anyone was needed for this trip, it was her, for she was part of the people who could ask nature to do their bidding. They were loved by nature itself, a people who could destroy towns with a sweet click of their tongues and hum a song of death. For a being like her to come and help humanity search for the Thousand Islands was a blessing. She had heard the plea and had come to aid the Fleet in their journey. Not to mention that she would be followed by her people as well.
However, Gabrio knew that the dream of reaching new lands filled with new people was only a front. But it was an adventure he was determined to undertake, no matter how foolish it may be. He was here to see new sights and didn't have to like the true purpose of the Grand Fleet.
Nonetheless, he was also the Doctor of the Milostiv, here to aid the injured and cure the sick. He intended to honor his duties in this journey, just as the Lady of the Ship honored hers as the steward, healer, and guide of the ship.
She was the one who would sing the songs of ancients among the waves, and she was beautiful. Even as Gabrio stood in her presence, he became enthralled and couldn't shut his ears away from her wonderful voice. Then, like a mirage in a dream, she vanished. He blinked and shook his head, continuing to walk back to his cabin so he could rest his head on a pillow filled with cotton and dried herb leaves.
The voyage was set to happen in five days, and Gabrio's head was in the clouds as he thought of the upcoming journey. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought of that day, the drinks he had consumed, and the prayer he had pleaded to a merciful God whose name he didn't even know.
"Let me be safe," Gabrio of Fort Rava pleaded.
It was the first day of the Third Cycle of the Year 1500 of the Ghealach calendar, the day Gabrio ended his day by traveling to the sleeping world where dreams live.