Diary of the New World - Completed 8/23/2015 - See Page 12 for latest updates
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Blackwater
Veteran
Isen spent most of that battle in a hut. Doesn't know and didn't ask.
Blackwater
Veteran
Part IV
March 9, 1420
It's nice to know that there are times when my instincts prove absolutely correct. Working to appraise the objects that the tribesmen left behind has indeed taken my mind off of... anyways. The other sailors ensured that no one was left alive in the village, so aside from the token guards that Santiagon has posted around the perimeter of the village, he has not taken very many precautions to secure the area, since he believes there is little chance of a counter-attack. When I questioned this, he pointed to the paltry defenses that the natives had erected and pointed out that if they suffered frequent assaults, this village would either be more heavily fortified or would no longer exist. He's the one who's seen warfare, so I figured I should not argue with him.
After looting the village and taking a tally of the booty that the men gathered, I am amazed by the amount and quality of the treasure that the natives have. No matter which way I look at it, there is simply no way that they could have crafted all of this. Some of the treasure, such as simple unadorned golden rings and a mask of blue stone, might have been crafted by these natives, but other treasures, such as cut and polished emeralds and amethysts, gold vases, and necklaces set with gems, I simply cannot imagine a people like this could have made. Most telling is the fact that the men gathered coins of gold and silver that, while not properly minted like Calradian coins, were crafted with distinctive faces and symbols that suggests a system of currency that these primitive tribesmen would have no use for. This suggests either a culture that was either destroyed prior to our arrival, or a more advanced civilization that we simply have not encountered yet. Or perhaps both.
The reason I believe this is based on the lifestyle of these tribesmen from what I have observed. Their most advanced weaponry consists of cleavers the size of my arm made of black stone that, while sharper than even a modern steel sword, is far more brittle. It is certainly capable of slicing through flesh with ease, but a couple of the men reported them shattering when they came into combat with plate armor. Even their bows and arrows are simple, as the bows are nothing more than simple self-bows that aren't even recurved, while the arrows are as primitive as one can imagine, using shaved sticks, flint points, and arrows haphazardly stuck to the rear of the missiles with tree sap.
The tribesmen also apparently engage in practices that are far more chilling. When going through the loot, one of the men found a stone head the size of man's stone head, which he turned upside-down. To his horror, he dumped out a number of bones which looked suspiciously like human bones, including ribs, cracked thigh bones, and vertebrae. When I examined them more closely, I was disgusted. The bones had teeth marks in them, suggesting that they had been gnawed for the meat, and some of the cracked bones seemed like they had been browken in half to get at the marrow. It would seem that these people engage in cannibalism, though for what purpose, I cannot fathom. Perhaps there is some religious reason behind it, because I doubt that famine is a factor. These people clearly eat fruit and grain, which is plentiful and there are birds and beasts everywhere that could easily provide protein. It is also possible that it might simply be a way of disposing of enemies, and they could be hostile to everyone that is not a part of their tribe, which would explain why their method of greeting me involved impaling me on a javelin. Either way, I am somewhat less upset about killing my quarry now, knowing that my ultimate fate might have been to end up in his gullet. Certainly an inglorious end to this journey.
March 11, 1420
Captain Santiagon was planning to leave this island today, but unfortunately another storm struck, delaying our departure for at least another night. Fortunately, this is nothing like the squalls that we have had to face until now, but the captain does not want to go sailing into unfamiliar waters with low visibility, especially now that we know that some of these people are hostile. While we haven't seen any evidence of any sailing ability, the captain is erring on the side of caution, which I respect. Besides, it gave us more time to scout the island, which was fortunate, as some of the scouts returned around midday with a discovery.
In their hands were small white flowers that at first seemed to be dandelions in full bloom, although much more densely packed than the Old World flower. However, the men then grabbed hold of the bulbs of the flower and began pulling them apart. The flowers seemed to actually be comprised of some sort of fibrous material, which glistened like spiderwebs, water droplets hanging off of them like pearls clinging to a string. The strands seemed to be some kind of silken material, but the Rhodoks sailors mentioned that it wasn't silk. Considering that Veluca is the heartland of the silk trade, I was inclined to take their word on it.
The men mentioned that this plant was growing everywhere towards the south side of the island. Santiagon initially had no interest in it, dismissing their discovery as nothing more than another type of plant that we hadn't encountered yet and not even worth considering. He changed his tune, however, when Tonio, one of the Rhodoks sailors, mentioned that he was a tailor before he signed on to this voyage. He is of the opinion that this plant could be easily spun into yarn, and if used to make clothing and other textiles, it would be lighter and more comfortable than linen, cooler and more breathable than wool, but cheaper than silk, since the plants seems to grow rather easily and the process for extracting the fibers from the seeds, while time-consuming, is easier than the process for creating silk. I could practically see Santiagon's eyes turn gold when he looked at the flowers a second time.
Off-handedly, he mentioned perhaps starting up colonies with materials he could gain from a second voyage. Honestly, I don't believe that it can be done, at least not easily, and the colonies would not produce the kinds of profits that Santiagon seems to believe that they will. For one thing, while we have had no problems finding wild food during this expedition, it is an entirely different matter to clear acres of dense jungle to set them up for farming. He would also need to haul tons of goods across the sea on months-long voyages to simply get a colony started, and that's not even considering the logistics of getting settlers to the New World, even if they were willing to make the journey. Slaves might be a more viable option, but they're expensive, and once let loose on the free soil of the New World, they would likely start a rebellion unless one kept guards posted in the colony at all times, cutting even further into profits. And then the upkeep for equipment and living... not to mention the constant threat of being attacked by the natives, requiring one to set up walls, guard towers....
In any case, I fear that greed has taken root in Santiagon's mind, but fortunately, this seemed to only be a passing remark. Creating a colony on this expedition is simply impossible, and even he realizes this. For now, I think he'll content himself with raiding the native population for its spoils. I just hope that he doesn't get us so deep into this expedition that we find it impossible to escape.
March 13, 1420
It's been quite some time since I was able to sit back and relax without having to worry about a native appearing out of a bush and impaling me on a spear. Despite the haul of booty we were able to obtain from the island, I did not enjoy my time on that island, since we were always on our guard, worried about whether or not we were going to be attacked by a tribe that we hadn't discovered. Fortunately, our scouts didn't find any other established villages on the island, though they could swear that they felt eyes and saw shadowy figures the entire time they were in the jungle. I will say this about the natives: they are as cunning and as elusive as rats in a sewer, and I expect that the village will be fully rebuilt before the next visitors arrive in the New World.
To commemorate our time spent on the island, Captain Santiagon was sarcastically going to name it 'Pandemonium.' Basim, however, rather wryly pointed out that if he wanted to colonize the New World, colonists were not going to want to arrive on an island that was named after Hell. Santiagon agreed with this after considering it for a while, and he renamed it Pandum, a rather innocuous name hiding a deeper meaning that I doubt anyone will ever understand (barring this diary getting published, of course).
In the meantime, we have set off once again towards the next island, which the scouts spotted across a narrow strait when they traveled to the south end of Pandum. Unfortunately, the ship was still anchored towards the north end of the island, so we lost a day or so having to return to it, but at least the weather is clear. It's also given us a break from the stress we've all been under. Between storms, cannibalistic tribesmen, and wild animals all trying to kill us at various points, it's a welcome change to just be able to relax on a ship and enjoy the admittedly beautiful scenery of the New World. Many of us have taken to simply lounging around, and I was reading a book before the fancy to write in this diary struck me. What caught our attention, however, was Santiagon playing with his macaw and talking to it. To our shock, it was able to repeat "hungry" back to him in a high, squawking voice that was nevertheless a perfect imitation of the word. We instantly crowded around it as the captain pressed it for more words, but so far it seems as though it has only mastered "hungry."
Still, to be able to replicate speech is a feat I thought only ravens could accomplish. As much as I hate parts of it, the New World is truly full of magnificent wonders that we could have never experienced had we stayed in Calradia. And it is these hidden gems that give me the drive to continue delving deeper into what mysteries the New World holds. Every time I feel as though I can no longer take it and wish to return home, these islands find a new way to beckon my interest with their siren call. And like a fool, I keep listening to their song, even though I'm well aware that the day may come that our ship lies smashed on rocky shores.
March 17, 1420
When we landed on the island of Samand - what the captain has taken to calling this latest island, named after his father - we were immediately greeted with a swarm of little weasel-like creatures that immediately came right up to us and began to sniff at us curiously. This was one of the oddest things I have ever experienced in my life. Even in the New World, animals tend to avoid us, even the larger ones, but these creatures scampered right up to us as though we were a group of toys for them to play with. I have never seen animals so fearless. They are also gorgeous little creatures too, sporting coats of glossy black fur capped off with cute white noses. I reached out to pet one of them, but it sniffed my hand and then turned its back on me, so I decided against it. It seems as though I won't be getting a pet like the captain has, but so much the better. These creatures seem to be carnivorous, and meat is in short supply on the ship. Still, astounding little beasts.
This island has featured some of the densest foliage that we have yet encountered, suggesting to me that it is another one that has not seen human contact for quite some time. I find it rather odd that the natives of this region populate some islands, and yet are unable to reach others. Clearly they were capable of sea travel at least at some point in their past. The sea in this area is fairly shallow, since the islands are not terribly far apart from each other. The closest one can spot with a spyglass standing on the correct shore and facing the right direction, so I wonder why the population is so spread out over the islands. Perhaps there is some religious reason behind it. Maybe some islands are sacred, and we're breaking taboos by setting foot on them. Since I haven't had a chance to speak with any of the natives since the Island of Nova, I'm afraid it must remain a mystery for now.
As with Coats Island, there is quite a bit of fauna to be found here. Oddly, much of it also seems dark-colored, much like the flora growing here. The weasels we encountered notwithstanding, the birds seem to sport darker feathers, and one of the men almost stepped on a black and white snake, which hissed a warning at him at the last second before slithering off into the jungle. But the most frightening moment came when a dark shape crossed our path, and the captain called a halt. Walking before us was an enormous feline, clad in sable fur and sporting teeth the size of my forearm. The cat walked blithely past us, as though it didn't even consider us prey, and when it disappeared into the next bush, we all let out a sigh of relief which we didn't even realize we had been holding in. It was here that the captain stated that we would only travel during the day, and at night he was going to double the watch.
I was unlucky enough to draw watch the second night, and I spent it up with three other men named Teron, Maxiel, and Len. What is most surprising about the jungle at night is how noisy it gets. Of course, on the other islands I have been kept up by the noise, since I am a very light sleeper, but this was the first night that I had to stay awake all the way through it. It's actually rather fascinating how many different animals this jungle has, and yet most of them seem to be so good at hiding from us that I could not place individual calls. Perhaps they are simply higher up in the trees and we have yet to spot these creatures, but I distinctly heard birds, monkeys, predators, and the scratching calls of insects all blended together in a resounding cacophony of sound. And it went on for hours. I don't remember a single span of more than two minutes where there wasn't something screaming at something else, and I had to listen to it for eight hours. That combined with the dark shapes prowling through the jungle and the glowing eyes that I could occasionally see reflecting the glowing light of the fire, and the captain could rest assured that I wasn't going to fall asleep on watch that night. My morning I was exhausted, both from the strain of staying up for eight hours and from the adrenaline constantly pumping through my veins. And then we had to march all day too. By dusk of the next day, I practically collapsed on the ground when the captain called for us to stop and make camp, and I was asleep within moments, not even putting out a bedroll.
Fortunately, Khaden was apparently kind enough to roll my unconscious body onto a sleeping fur, and I awoke the next morning feeling fully refreshed. That man is still looking out for me, and I'm eternally grateful. I asked him about it, but he commented that we'd been through so much that I was the only person he trusted on this journey. I was touched, and mentioned how thankful I was I had met him, since the journey would have been much shorter without him. He merely grinned and replied that it had just been fun getting to go on such an exciting hunt. The man has already collected furs from a half dozen species, and I doubt that he's done here. That big cat I think has caught his eye, and I wonder if it's his next target. With the exotic skins he's collected, the man is going to be able to retire as a merchant baron when we get back to Calradia. And thanks to the rest of the treasure we've collected so far, he won't be the only one.
March 19, 1420
We spent another night on Samand, but it became obvious that there was little on the island besides the beasts that prowled in the underbrush, and Captain Santiagon made the decision to explore no more, since it was proving to be a drain on our resources. When Basim slyly suggested that the captain seemed more interested in hunting for treasures than discovering what the New World had to offer, the captain merely grinned in reply. However, in this case, I think that he's right. Samand is similar to Coats Island in many respects, the most striking being that there has clearly been no one inhabiting the island for quite some time. And while the new species we have discovered on the island are certainly interesting in their own right, I find the culture of the people to be more worthy of study. And the men are certainly more interested in the treasures that they've hoarded. There's no point on wasting time on an island when there's nothing to be gained, especially now that we know that there are spoils out there that will make this journey worthwhile.
One of the things that I've noticed, though, is just how much this trip has changed us. For example, I was sparring with Captain Santiagon earlier this morning, when my bangs fell into my eyes and distracted me for a moment. The captain took that opportunity to disarm me, something that hasn't happened in a little while, as I have been growing more skilled with a blade. Santiagon was chuckling, but that was the first time that I noticed how much my hair has grown. While it was once short and neatly trimmed, it's now begun to creep down the back of my neck and into my eyes. When I pointed this out to the captain, he suggested that I keep it long, since it made me look older, and the men took me more seriously. He also mentioned that maybe I should let my beard grow out, but I've been fastidious about shaving, and that's not a habit that I intend to break anytime soon.
However, it was then that I decided to re-examine myself. Aside from my hair, I have become much more fit. While I am not strong in any sense of the word, underneath my skin are distinct lean muscles that had never been there before. My skin, while still very fair, is no longer pale thanks to long exposure to the sunlight. What's more, according to the captain my posture has improved, and I carry myself much more confidently, with greater balance and a more assured stride than before, especially when we're on land. According to him, while I'm not a true sailor yet, he would gladly hire me on for another voyage if I continued to improve at this rate.
All in all, I'm glad that I've taken this journey, despite all the hardships. It's been good for me in more ways than one. If I'd stayed in Swadia, I'd probably be miserable. Best-case scenario, perhaps my father would have backed off of me and allowed me to study history to finish out my degree, but I would still not be allowed to see Kivana. If he'd pressured me further, perhaps he could have even swayed me into pursuing medicine, despite how little I wish to learn it, simply because I would have had no alternatives. Instead, here I am halfway across the world, seeing sights no man has ever seen before now, and enjoying the company of men who, while they still poke fun at me from time to time, I am more than proud to call my comrades and crewmates. And I know that any one of them would be happy to fight for me as well. We've done so many times already, after all, and I'm certain that we haven't seen the end of it. But for the first time, I feel confident that we can meet any challenge the New World sends our way.
March 21, 1420
Before we even landed on the next island, we knew that there was something special about it. For one thing, this island is twice as large as the next largest island we have landed on up to this point. For another, its appearance was almost... mystical. It was a foggy morning when it first came into view, rising out of the early morning mist with the sun rising behind is, bathing it in golden light. When the captain ordered us to the boats, we did so with an almost military precision, indicating just how used to this procedure we've become.
The island proved to be one of the most placid that we have yet encountered. Unlike every other island since Nova, we were not attacked by natives or swarmed by beasts as soon as we set foot in the jungle. In fact, it was eerily quiet, almost disconcertingly so. It felt more as though we were walking into a graveyard than embarking on a new adventure, but there was a strange sense of peace about the island as well. The foliage was also surprisingly sparse, so we were able to move at almost double speed through the jungle. Despite the large size of the island, we were able to make excellent time, and by midday, we were probably about halfway through the island.
At this point, Khaden was guiding us through the jungle, so he was the first to spot it. He let out an awed gasp that caught our attention, and we rushed forward as he pushed aside the branches to reveal a clearing. In the center of this clearing was a cluster of small buildings constructed out of grey stone, carved in a style I have never seen before. It almost seemed to evoke an ancient Calradian feel to it, but the pillars that held the buildings were square, unlike the elegant ionic columns that one saw in the Neo-classical style in Praven or Veluca. Some of the rooftops were also capped with an almost pagoda-like structure similar to what one might see in the more remote areas of the Khergit Khanate, while others were crowned with domes that would have been at home in the Sarranid Sultanate. However, all of these were dwarfed by the massive structure that dominated the center of the clearing.
I have never seen nor heard anything of the sort in any part of Calradia. It was a massive pyramid structure careved of grey stone, with gradually decreasing layers of stone until one reached the top of the structure where a shrine rested. The structure was well over two hundred feet tall, dwarfing even the Papal palace in Praven. It was an awe-inspiring sight, and we were unable to tear our eyes from it for several long moments until the captain snapped us out of our shock with a clap of his hands. He then told us to start exploring the ruins, and to keep our eyes open for anyone who might be living in the ruins, since he didn't want his first casualty on this voyage to be due to carelessness.
Fortunately as we began exploring, it quickly became evident that no one had lived in this city for centuries. However, it had been built at least relatively recently, as the jungle had not yet begun to reclaim the buildings. Vines of ivy could be seen creeping up the pillars of some of the buildings closer to the treeline, but for the most part, it was almost untouched. The other thing that quickly became evident was that this had once been a civilization of some prestige. While certainly not as advanced as any current kingdom in Calradia - or, indeed, any civilization on the continent for at least the past couple thousand years - it was certainly several steps up from the rude huts of the cannibals. Though I have found no evidence of metalworking more advanced than copper, their abilities with stonecrafting is clearly evident. And that extends to their gemstones.
It was one of the sailors who first found the stone chest filled with rare gemstones. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds, diamonds, topaz were all stored in a chest in one of the central buildings, which I suppose must have been a stonecuttery of some sort, given that we also found some obsidan tools in the same area. Unlike the small gems that we found in the native village on Pandum, these were large, polished, and intricately cut with skill rivaling that of the best jewelers on Calradia. Santiagon's grin nearly split his face when he caught sight of the loot, and he immediately gathered the gems in pouches and ordered a few of the men back to the ship to store it in a more secure chest with a proper lock. He did, however, give the man who found the gems a handful of them. It was only a small part of the prize, but I'm sure he could have bought a couple hundred acres of good farmland with that reward.
While I wanted to inspect the massive temple more closely, the captain told me to hold off, saying that he didn't want to risk me if the temple was unstable, since I'm the only one that speaks the native tongue right now. When he saw how crestfallen I was, though, he did say that he would let us go exploring tomorrow, though some of the sailors would go first to make sure it was safe. I can hardly wait. While the gems are certainly not a prize I'm going to scoff at, I'm much more interested in discovering who lived here, how they lived, and why they abandoned this city when it's a shining gem compared with the primitive nature of their descendants. But that's unfortunately a mystery that shall have to wait until tomorrow.
March 23, 1420
As the captain promised, yesterday we were allowed to head up into the temple shortly after breakfast. I was practically giddy with excitement, since this was the first time that I would be able to examine the culture of the New World without fear of breaking some tribal taboo or getting killed by an unseen native. The scouts had spent much of the day before traveling through the jungle to ensure that there was no one else on this island, but the area is surprisingly tame. The most threatening predator that they found was a sort of spotted cat the size of a housecat, and it seems that no one has lived on this island for decades at least. It was the first time in a long, long time that I was able to sleep restfully through the night.
The captain assigned Khaden and Ferdinand to head up the steps of the temple before me, after telling us to strip off our armor to ensure that we didn't accidentally disturb any loose stones with excess weight. Thank God, too. It's a nice change to be able to walk around in a loose tunic, since I no longer feel as though I'm suffocating in the heat, though they seemed uncomfortable being so exposed. The pair of them advanced slowly, but as we ascended the temple, it quickly became apparent that the stone was still sturdy. There were no signs of cracks or crumbling, and not even the vines seemed to be breaking apart the stone. About halfway up, Khaden declared it safe and we climbed the rest of the way without any problems.
Once inside the temple, the first thing that I noticed was the carved stone on the ground. Pulling on a pair of gloves, I asked the other men to help me try and pull it back into its original position, but Ferdinand complained that it was too dark. Fortunately, after a moment of looking around, I saw that there were still torches in the sconces, and they were lit in a moment thanks to some flint and steel Khaden had on him. We then spent about five minutes trying to pull the carving back into position, but it proved too heavy to move. The structure seemed to be a jar of some sort fixed to a stone cube, and it was all clearly supposed to stand in the center of the temple.
After inspecting the altar, I took some time to examine the walls, but unfortunately they were surprisingly unadorned with what one might expect - pictures, designs, tapestries. They were bare, not what one would expect from a clearly religious building. In fact, upon closer inspection, I found no evidence of anything resembling pigment or paint, no decoration of any sort, on the entire surface of the temple. Perhaps it was an ascetic religion not unlike some forms of Calradian religions that are devoid of idolatry and expressionism, but if the religion was as prevalent as I assume - clearly it had enough influence to encourage followers to build a temple dedicated to its practice - then why would a religion that was devoid of expression produce a culture that was also able to craft such fine treasures as the ones we've found thus far?
In one corner of the room, we also discovered a small chest filled with a golden urn, a cask of oil, and a stone knife. The knife in particular caught my attention. It was the size of the average dagger, and the hilt was carved with intricate designs that seemed almost Nordic. Swirling patterns crept up the length of it to part of the blade, though they came to an abrupt end when the stone tapered off into the actual cutting edge. What was most disconcerting was that the blade was coated with dark stains that I can only assume are dried blood. Still, I decided to take it with me as a memento to show to the university when we return.
As we descended from the temple - my compatriots rather annoyed that we hadn't found more loot in the most important building in the city - I developed a theory. The fact that many of the buildings are in almost pristine condition suggests that this city was abandoned rather than sacked by an opponent. It's clear that it was meant to be some sort of central gathering place for the people of the island, and it's possible that it was surrounded by farming communities that have long since been swallowed by the jungle. Perhaps it was even the capital of the surrounding islands, as this is the largest island in the region and easily accessible even by primitive boats and ships. The temple itself revealed a few things about the religion that these people followed too. The stone knife suggests that sacrifice of some sort was an integral part of the worshiping process, though human or animal I cannot say, as we found no bones, and even then the findings would be inconclusive unless the skeleton was dismembered in some way.
However, this is what I can speculate about. Given that the surrounding islands practice cannibalism, I can assume that it is at least derived from the teachings of this island. The jar in the center of the room could have easily been used to hold blood, and if one considers the ritual cannibalism aspect of it, then it's possible that the people of the village were to ascend the steps, drink the sacrificial blood, and then descend while a priest oversaw the entire process. Perhaps this practice later devolved into rampant cannibalism across the islands, and the temple was abandoned for some reason. Perhaps a famine struck and the people thought the religion to be false and saw no further reason to follow it, or perhaps the practice of drinking blood facilitated the spread of diseases (a radical new theory in medicine, but one that my father has been considering as having some merit). Until I get more information or confirmation from one of the native peoples, all I can do is speculate, but I believe this theory could hold up in academic circles across Calradia. Besides, who's going to refute the only man who's seen it with his own eyes? Still, I will hold off on jumping to conclusions until I collect more information and have explored the entirety of the New World.
March 26, 1420
Thanks to the lack of dangerous animals, hostile natives, and even tempestuous weather, the last few days on this island have been surprisingly pleasant. The city has a sort of peaceful, soothing nature about it once one gets past the fact that it's essentially a graveyard, and some of us have even taken up temporary residence in the abandoned buildings, where it's cooler at night thanks to the shade. However, that peace came to an abrupt end earlier this morning.
I was working with Basim and another man named Anton to excavate some of the ruins in the hopes that there might be gems buried beneath the floors of some of the buildings. This, of course, proved to be futile, but it was fun digging through the ruins anyways. Santiagon was watching us working, when he commented that he hadn't yet thought up a name for the island. Looking around, I off-handedly suggested New Praven, earning myself looks of amused disbelief from the other men, and Santiagon mentioned that he thought I could do better than naming an island after my country's capital city. However, I explained my reasoning to them, in that this seemed to be a regional capital city, perhaps even the capital of an empire. Praven was once the capital of the Calradian Empire, and we were in the New World. Not to mention the fact that some of the buildings had an Imperial feeling to them, but a fresh, new appearance to our Calradian eyes. Thus, I explained, we should name this island not in honor of Swadia, but of our shared Calradian heritage, something that we all could take pride in.
The men listening to my little speech stared at me, surprised, and then Santiagon grinned and agreed that he thought, when put that way, it was a perfect name for the city and the island. However, behind me, I then heard a short, barking laugh full of derision and contempt. Turning around, I saw Ferdinand standing against a pillar, his arms crossed as he shook his head at me. His attention, however, was focused on Santiagon as he asked why I was getting so much preferential treatment. Santiagon looked confused, but Ferdinand pointed out that I was a foreigner, and yet I was being humored with not having a heavy workload as a sailor, being allowed to translate for the group, and even having other men's lives put in danger so I could play around in the ruins, as with the temple expedition a few days ago. Santiagon protested that it was because I'd proven myself valuable, but this set Ferdinand off.
Storming across the courtyard, he screamed at Santiagon about how he was tired of not having his own work recognized, nor that of the other sailors. In fact, he should have seized command of the ship during the attempted mutiny when he had the chance, and none of this would have happened. A few of the men were reaching for their blades to silence Ferdinand, but Santiagon stopped them before patiently asking what Ferdinand wanted. Ferdinand sneered and announced that he wanted to lead the land expeditions from now on, since he was the one with the most scouting experience. I was confused by this, but held my tongue, as Ferdinand added that he also wanted half of the spoils that they found from that point on, so he could dole them out to his men as he pleased. Again... his men? I shall have to make a note to ask about this later.
To his credit, Santiagon showed great restraint in not simply running Ferdinand through where he stood, but what was even more shocking was when he agreed. I haven't said anything but... half of all the spoils? Ferdinand leading the expeditions? What's next, is he going to demand that we call him 'captain' and that he take complete command of the voyage? I have no idea what the captain is thinking, but I'm not going to draw attention to myself right now, since I was apparently the catalyst that set him off. There has to be a story behind this though. I'll ask the captain about it the next time we're on the ship. Preferably in his cabin with the door locked.
March 9, 1420
March 9, 1420
It's nice to know that there are times when my instincts prove absolutely correct. Working to appraise the objects that the tribesmen left behind has indeed taken my mind off of... anyways. The other sailors ensured that no one was left alive in the village, so aside from the token guards that Santiagon has posted around the perimeter of the village, he has not taken very many precautions to secure the area, since he believes there is little chance of a counter-attack. When I questioned this, he pointed to the paltry defenses that the natives had erected and pointed out that if they suffered frequent assaults, this village would either be more heavily fortified or would no longer exist. He's the one who's seen warfare, so I figured I should not argue with him.
After looting the village and taking a tally of the booty that the men gathered, I am amazed by the amount and quality of the treasure that the natives have. No matter which way I look at it, there is simply no way that they could have crafted all of this. Some of the treasure, such as simple unadorned golden rings and a mask of blue stone, might have been crafted by these natives, but other treasures, such as cut and polished emeralds and amethysts, gold vases, and necklaces set with gems, I simply cannot imagine a people like this could have made. Most telling is the fact that the men gathered coins of gold and silver that, while not properly minted like Calradian coins, were crafted with distinctive faces and symbols that suggests a system of currency that these primitive tribesmen would have no use for. This suggests either a culture that was either destroyed prior to our arrival, or a more advanced civilization that we simply have not encountered yet. Or perhaps both.
The reason I believe this is based on the lifestyle of these tribesmen from what I have observed. Their most advanced weaponry consists of cleavers the size of my arm made of black stone that, while sharper than even a modern steel sword, is far more brittle. It is certainly capable of slicing through flesh with ease, but a couple of the men reported them shattering when they came into combat with plate armor. Even their bows and arrows are simple, as the bows are nothing more than simple self-bows that aren't even recurved, while the arrows are as primitive as one can imagine, using shaved sticks, flint points, and arrows haphazardly stuck to the rear of the missiles with tree sap.
The tribesmen also apparently engage in practices that are far more chilling. When going through the loot, one of the men found a stone head the size of man's stone head, which he turned upside-down. To his horror, he dumped out a number of bones which looked suspiciously like human bones, including ribs, cracked thigh bones, and vertebrae. When I examined them more closely, I was disgusted. The bones had teeth marks in them, suggesting that they had been gnawed for the meat, and some of the cracked bones seemed like they had been browken in half to get at the marrow. It would seem that these people engage in cannibalism, though for what purpose, I cannot fathom. Perhaps there is some religious reason behind it, because I doubt that famine is a factor. These people clearly eat fruit and grain, which is plentiful and there are birds and beasts everywhere that could easily provide protein. It is also possible that it might simply be a way of disposing of enemies, and they could be hostile to everyone that is not a part of their tribe, which would explain why their method of greeting me involved impaling me on a javelin. Either way, I am somewhat less upset about killing my quarry now, knowing that my ultimate fate might have been to end up in his gullet. Certainly an inglorious end to this journey.
March 11, 1420
Captain Santiagon was planning to leave this island today, but unfortunately another storm struck, delaying our departure for at least another night. Fortunately, this is nothing like the squalls that we have had to face until now, but the captain does not want to go sailing into unfamiliar waters with low visibility, especially now that we know that some of these people are hostile. While we haven't seen any evidence of any sailing ability, the captain is erring on the side of caution, which I respect. Besides, it gave us more time to scout the island, which was fortunate, as some of the scouts returned around midday with a discovery.
In their hands were small white flowers that at first seemed to be dandelions in full bloom, although much more densely packed than the Old World flower. However, the men then grabbed hold of the bulbs of the flower and began pulling them apart. The flowers seemed to actually be comprised of some sort of fibrous material, which glistened like spiderwebs, water droplets hanging off of them like pearls clinging to a string. The strands seemed to be some kind of silken material, but the Rhodoks sailors mentioned that it wasn't silk. Considering that Veluca is the heartland of the silk trade, I was inclined to take their word on it.
The men mentioned that this plant was growing everywhere towards the south side of the island. Santiagon initially had no interest in it, dismissing their discovery as nothing more than another type of plant that we hadn't encountered yet and not even worth considering. He changed his tune, however, when Tonio, one of the Rhodoks sailors, mentioned that he was a tailor before he signed on to this voyage. He is of the opinion that this plant could be easily spun into yarn, and if used to make clothing and other textiles, it would be lighter and more comfortable than linen, cooler and more breathable than wool, but cheaper than silk, since the plants seems to grow rather easily and the process for extracting the fibers from the seeds, while time-consuming, is easier than the process for creating silk. I could practically see Santiagon's eyes turn gold when he looked at the flowers a second time.
Off-handedly, he mentioned perhaps starting up colonies with materials he could gain from a second voyage. Honestly, I don't believe that it can be done, at least not easily, and the colonies would not produce the kinds of profits that Santiagon seems to believe that they will. For one thing, while we have had no problems finding wild food during this expedition, it is an entirely different matter to clear acres of dense jungle to set them up for farming. He would also need to haul tons of goods across the sea on months-long voyages to simply get a colony started, and that's not even considering the logistics of getting settlers to the New World, even if they were willing to make the journey. Slaves might be a more viable option, but they're expensive, and once let loose on the free soil of the New World, they would likely start a rebellion unless one kept guards posted in the colony at all times, cutting even further into profits. And then the upkeep for equipment and living... not to mention the constant threat of being attacked by the natives, requiring one to set up walls, guard towers....
In any case, I fear that greed has taken root in Santiagon's mind, but fortunately, this seemed to only be a passing remark. Creating a colony on this expedition is simply impossible, and even he realizes this. For now, I think he'll content himself with raiding the native population for its spoils. I just hope that he doesn't get us so deep into this expedition that we find it impossible to escape.
March 13, 1420
It's been quite some time since I was able to sit back and relax without having to worry about a native appearing out of a bush and impaling me on a spear. Despite the haul of booty we were able to obtain from the island, I did not enjoy my time on that island, since we were always on our guard, worried about whether or not we were going to be attacked by a tribe that we hadn't discovered. Fortunately, our scouts didn't find any other established villages on the island, though they could swear that they felt eyes and saw shadowy figures the entire time they were in the jungle. I will say this about the natives: they are as cunning and as elusive as rats in a sewer, and I expect that the village will be fully rebuilt before the next visitors arrive in the New World.
To commemorate our time spent on the island, Captain Santiagon was sarcastically going to name it 'Pandemonium.' Basim, however, rather wryly pointed out that if he wanted to colonize the New World, colonists were not going to want to arrive on an island that was named after Hell. Santiagon agreed with this after considering it for a while, and he renamed it Pandum, a rather innocuous name hiding a deeper meaning that I doubt anyone will ever understand (barring this diary getting published, of course).
In the meantime, we have set off once again towards the next island, which the scouts spotted across a narrow strait when they traveled to the south end of Pandum. Unfortunately, the ship was still anchored towards the north end of the island, so we lost a day or so having to return to it, but at least the weather is clear. It's also given us a break from the stress we've all been under. Between storms, cannibalistic tribesmen, and wild animals all trying to kill us at various points, it's a welcome change to just be able to relax on a ship and enjoy the admittedly beautiful scenery of the New World. Many of us have taken to simply lounging around, and I was reading a book before the fancy to write in this diary struck me. What caught our attention, however, was Santiagon playing with his macaw and talking to it. To our shock, it was able to repeat "hungry" back to him in a high, squawking voice that was nevertheless a perfect imitation of the word. We instantly crowded around it as the captain pressed it for more words, but so far it seems as though it has only mastered "hungry."
Still, to be able to replicate speech is a feat I thought only ravens could accomplish. As much as I hate parts of it, the New World is truly full of magnificent wonders that we could have never experienced had we stayed in Calradia. And it is these hidden gems that give me the drive to continue delving deeper into what mysteries the New World holds. Every time I feel as though I can no longer take it and wish to return home, these islands find a new way to beckon my interest with their siren call. And like a fool, I keep listening to their song, even though I'm well aware that the day may come that our ship lies smashed on rocky shores.
March 17, 1420
When we landed on the island of Samand - what the captain has taken to calling this latest island, named after his father - we were immediately greeted with a swarm of little weasel-like creatures that immediately came right up to us and began to sniff at us curiously. This was one of the oddest things I have ever experienced in my life. Even in the New World, animals tend to avoid us, even the larger ones, but these creatures scampered right up to us as though we were a group of toys for them to play with. I have never seen animals so fearless. They are also gorgeous little creatures too, sporting coats of glossy black fur capped off with cute white noses. I reached out to pet one of them, but it sniffed my hand and then turned its back on me, so I decided against it. It seems as though I won't be getting a pet like the captain has, but so much the better. These creatures seem to be carnivorous, and meat is in short supply on the ship. Still, astounding little beasts.
This island has featured some of the densest foliage that we have yet encountered, suggesting to me that it is another one that has not seen human contact for quite some time. I find it rather odd that the natives of this region populate some islands, and yet are unable to reach others. Clearly they were capable of sea travel at least at some point in their past. The sea in this area is fairly shallow, since the islands are not terribly far apart from each other. The closest one can spot with a spyglass standing on the correct shore and facing the right direction, so I wonder why the population is so spread out over the islands. Perhaps there is some religious reason behind it. Maybe some islands are sacred, and we're breaking taboos by setting foot on them. Since I haven't had a chance to speak with any of the natives since the Island of Nova, I'm afraid it must remain a mystery for now.
As with Coats Island, there is quite a bit of fauna to be found here. Oddly, much of it also seems dark-colored, much like the flora growing here. The weasels we encountered notwithstanding, the birds seem to sport darker feathers, and one of the men almost stepped on a black and white snake, which hissed a warning at him at the last second before slithering off into the jungle. But the most frightening moment came when a dark shape crossed our path, and the captain called a halt. Walking before us was an enormous feline, clad in sable fur and sporting teeth the size of my forearm. The cat walked blithely past us, as though it didn't even consider us prey, and when it disappeared into the next bush, we all let out a sigh of relief which we didn't even realize we had been holding in. It was here that the captain stated that we would only travel during the day, and at night he was going to double the watch.
I was unlucky enough to draw watch the second night, and I spent it up with three other men named Teron, Maxiel, and Len. What is most surprising about the jungle at night is how noisy it gets. Of course, on the other islands I have been kept up by the noise, since I am a very light sleeper, but this was the first night that I had to stay awake all the way through it. It's actually rather fascinating how many different animals this jungle has, and yet most of them seem to be so good at hiding from us that I could not place individual calls. Perhaps they are simply higher up in the trees and we have yet to spot these creatures, but I distinctly heard birds, monkeys, predators, and the scratching calls of insects all blended together in a resounding cacophony of sound. And it went on for hours. I don't remember a single span of more than two minutes where there wasn't something screaming at something else, and I had to listen to it for eight hours. That combined with the dark shapes prowling through the jungle and the glowing eyes that I could occasionally see reflecting the glowing light of the fire, and the captain could rest assured that I wasn't going to fall asleep on watch that night. My morning I was exhausted, both from the strain of staying up for eight hours and from the adrenaline constantly pumping through my veins. And then we had to march all day too. By dusk of the next day, I practically collapsed on the ground when the captain called for us to stop and make camp, and I was asleep within moments, not even putting out a bedroll.
Fortunately, Khaden was apparently kind enough to roll my unconscious body onto a sleeping fur, and I awoke the next morning feeling fully refreshed. That man is still looking out for me, and I'm eternally grateful. I asked him about it, but he commented that we'd been through so much that I was the only person he trusted on this journey. I was touched, and mentioned how thankful I was I had met him, since the journey would have been much shorter without him. He merely grinned and replied that it had just been fun getting to go on such an exciting hunt. The man has already collected furs from a half dozen species, and I doubt that he's done here. That big cat I think has caught his eye, and I wonder if it's his next target. With the exotic skins he's collected, the man is going to be able to retire as a merchant baron when we get back to Calradia. And thanks to the rest of the treasure we've collected so far, he won't be the only one.
March 19, 1420
We spent another night on Samand, but it became obvious that there was little on the island besides the beasts that prowled in the underbrush, and Captain Santiagon made the decision to explore no more, since it was proving to be a drain on our resources. When Basim slyly suggested that the captain seemed more interested in hunting for treasures than discovering what the New World had to offer, the captain merely grinned in reply. However, in this case, I think that he's right. Samand is similar to Coats Island in many respects, the most striking being that there has clearly been no one inhabiting the island for quite some time. And while the new species we have discovered on the island are certainly interesting in their own right, I find the culture of the people to be more worthy of study. And the men are certainly more interested in the treasures that they've hoarded. There's no point on wasting time on an island when there's nothing to be gained, especially now that we know that there are spoils out there that will make this journey worthwhile.
One of the things that I've noticed, though, is just how much this trip has changed us. For example, I was sparring with Captain Santiagon earlier this morning, when my bangs fell into my eyes and distracted me for a moment. The captain took that opportunity to disarm me, something that hasn't happened in a little while, as I have been growing more skilled with a blade. Santiagon was chuckling, but that was the first time that I noticed how much my hair has grown. While it was once short and neatly trimmed, it's now begun to creep down the back of my neck and into my eyes. When I pointed this out to the captain, he suggested that I keep it long, since it made me look older, and the men took me more seriously. He also mentioned that maybe I should let my beard grow out, but I've been fastidious about shaving, and that's not a habit that I intend to break anytime soon.
However, it was then that I decided to re-examine myself. Aside from my hair, I have become much more fit. While I am not strong in any sense of the word, underneath my skin are distinct lean muscles that had never been there before. My skin, while still very fair, is no longer pale thanks to long exposure to the sunlight. What's more, according to the captain my posture has improved, and I carry myself much more confidently, with greater balance and a more assured stride than before, especially when we're on land. According to him, while I'm not a true sailor yet, he would gladly hire me on for another voyage if I continued to improve at this rate.
All in all, I'm glad that I've taken this journey, despite all the hardships. It's been good for me in more ways than one. If I'd stayed in Swadia, I'd probably be miserable. Best-case scenario, perhaps my father would have backed off of me and allowed me to study history to finish out my degree, but I would still not be allowed to see Kivana. If he'd pressured me further, perhaps he could have even swayed me into pursuing medicine, despite how little I wish to learn it, simply because I would have had no alternatives. Instead, here I am halfway across the world, seeing sights no man has ever seen before now, and enjoying the company of men who, while they still poke fun at me from time to time, I am more than proud to call my comrades and crewmates. And I know that any one of them would be happy to fight for me as well. We've done so many times already, after all, and I'm certain that we haven't seen the end of it. But for the first time, I feel confident that we can meet any challenge the New World sends our way.
March 21, 1420
Before we even landed on the next island, we knew that there was something special about it. For one thing, this island is twice as large as the next largest island we have landed on up to this point. For another, its appearance was almost... mystical. It was a foggy morning when it first came into view, rising out of the early morning mist with the sun rising behind is, bathing it in golden light. When the captain ordered us to the boats, we did so with an almost military precision, indicating just how used to this procedure we've become.
The island proved to be one of the most placid that we have yet encountered. Unlike every other island since Nova, we were not attacked by natives or swarmed by beasts as soon as we set foot in the jungle. In fact, it was eerily quiet, almost disconcertingly so. It felt more as though we were walking into a graveyard than embarking on a new adventure, but there was a strange sense of peace about the island as well. The foliage was also surprisingly sparse, so we were able to move at almost double speed through the jungle. Despite the large size of the island, we were able to make excellent time, and by midday, we were probably about halfway through the island.
At this point, Khaden was guiding us through the jungle, so he was the first to spot it. He let out an awed gasp that caught our attention, and we rushed forward as he pushed aside the branches to reveal a clearing. In the center of this clearing was a cluster of small buildings constructed out of grey stone, carved in a style I have never seen before. It almost seemed to evoke an ancient Calradian feel to it, but the pillars that held the buildings were square, unlike the elegant ionic columns that one saw in the Neo-classical style in Praven or Veluca. Some of the rooftops were also capped with an almost pagoda-like structure similar to what one might see in the more remote areas of the Khergit Khanate, while others were crowned with domes that would have been at home in the Sarranid Sultanate. However, all of these were dwarfed by the massive structure that dominated the center of the clearing.
I have never seen nor heard anything of the sort in any part of Calradia. It was a massive pyramid structure careved of grey stone, with gradually decreasing layers of stone until one reached the top of the structure where a shrine rested. The structure was well over two hundred feet tall, dwarfing even the Papal palace in Praven. It was an awe-inspiring sight, and we were unable to tear our eyes from it for several long moments until the captain snapped us out of our shock with a clap of his hands. He then told us to start exploring the ruins, and to keep our eyes open for anyone who might be living in the ruins, since he didn't want his first casualty on this voyage to be due to carelessness.
Fortunately as we began exploring, it quickly became evident that no one had lived in this city for centuries. However, it had been built at least relatively recently, as the jungle had not yet begun to reclaim the buildings. Vines of ivy could be seen creeping up the pillars of some of the buildings closer to the treeline, but for the most part, it was almost untouched. The other thing that quickly became evident was that this had once been a civilization of some prestige. While certainly not as advanced as any current kingdom in Calradia - or, indeed, any civilization on the continent for at least the past couple thousand years - it was certainly several steps up from the rude huts of the cannibals. Though I have found no evidence of metalworking more advanced than copper, their abilities with stonecrafting is clearly evident. And that extends to their gemstones.
It was one of the sailors who first found the stone chest filled with rare gemstones. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds, diamonds, topaz were all stored in a chest in one of the central buildings, which I suppose must have been a stonecuttery of some sort, given that we also found some obsidan tools in the same area. Unlike the small gems that we found in the native village on Pandum, these were large, polished, and intricately cut with skill rivaling that of the best jewelers on Calradia. Santiagon's grin nearly split his face when he caught sight of the loot, and he immediately gathered the gems in pouches and ordered a few of the men back to the ship to store it in a more secure chest with a proper lock. He did, however, give the man who found the gems a handful of them. It was only a small part of the prize, but I'm sure he could have bought a couple hundred acres of good farmland with that reward.
While I wanted to inspect the massive temple more closely, the captain told me to hold off, saying that he didn't want to risk me if the temple was unstable, since I'm the only one that speaks the native tongue right now. When he saw how crestfallen I was, though, he did say that he would let us go exploring tomorrow, though some of the sailors would go first to make sure it was safe. I can hardly wait. While the gems are certainly not a prize I'm going to scoff at, I'm much more interested in discovering who lived here, how they lived, and why they abandoned this city when it's a shining gem compared with the primitive nature of their descendants. But that's unfortunately a mystery that shall have to wait until tomorrow.
March 23, 1420
As the captain promised, yesterday we were allowed to head up into the temple shortly after breakfast. I was practically giddy with excitement, since this was the first time that I would be able to examine the culture of the New World without fear of breaking some tribal taboo or getting killed by an unseen native. The scouts had spent much of the day before traveling through the jungle to ensure that there was no one else on this island, but the area is surprisingly tame. The most threatening predator that they found was a sort of spotted cat the size of a housecat, and it seems that no one has lived on this island for decades at least. It was the first time in a long, long time that I was able to sleep restfully through the night.
The captain assigned Khaden and Ferdinand to head up the steps of the temple before me, after telling us to strip off our armor to ensure that we didn't accidentally disturb any loose stones with excess weight. Thank God, too. It's a nice change to be able to walk around in a loose tunic, since I no longer feel as though I'm suffocating in the heat, though they seemed uncomfortable being so exposed. The pair of them advanced slowly, but as we ascended the temple, it quickly became apparent that the stone was still sturdy. There were no signs of cracks or crumbling, and not even the vines seemed to be breaking apart the stone. About halfway up, Khaden declared it safe and we climbed the rest of the way without any problems.
Once inside the temple, the first thing that I noticed was the carved stone on the ground. Pulling on a pair of gloves, I asked the other men to help me try and pull it back into its original position, but Ferdinand complained that it was too dark. Fortunately, after a moment of looking around, I saw that there were still torches in the sconces, and they were lit in a moment thanks to some flint and steel Khaden had on him. We then spent about five minutes trying to pull the carving back into position, but it proved too heavy to move. The structure seemed to be a jar of some sort fixed to a stone cube, and it was all clearly supposed to stand in the center of the temple.
After inspecting the altar, I took some time to examine the walls, but unfortunately they were surprisingly unadorned with what one might expect - pictures, designs, tapestries. They were bare, not what one would expect from a clearly religious building. In fact, upon closer inspection, I found no evidence of anything resembling pigment or paint, no decoration of any sort, on the entire surface of the temple. Perhaps it was an ascetic religion not unlike some forms of Calradian religions that are devoid of idolatry and expressionism, but if the religion was as prevalent as I assume - clearly it had enough influence to encourage followers to build a temple dedicated to its practice - then why would a religion that was devoid of expression produce a culture that was also able to craft such fine treasures as the ones we've found thus far?
In one corner of the room, we also discovered a small chest filled with a golden urn, a cask of oil, and a stone knife. The knife in particular caught my attention. It was the size of the average dagger, and the hilt was carved with intricate designs that seemed almost Nordic. Swirling patterns crept up the length of it to part of the blade, though they came to an abrupt end when the stone tapered off into the actual cutting edge. What was most disconcerting was that the blade was coated with dark stains that I can only assume are dried blood. Still, I decided to take it with me as a memento to show to the university when we return.
As we descended from the temple - my compatriots rather annoyed that we hadn't found more loot in the most important building in the city - I developed a theory. The fact that many of the buildings are in almost pristine condition suggests that this city was abandoned rather than sacked by an opponent. It's clear that it was meant to be some sort of central gathering place for the people of the island, and it's possible that it was surrounded by farming communities that have long since been swallowed by the jungle. Perhaps it was even the capital of the surrounding islands, as this is the largest island in the region and easily accessible even by primitive boats and ships. The temple itself revealed a few things about the religion that these people followed too. The stone knife suggests that sacrifice of some sort was an integral part of the worshiping process, though human or animal I cannot say, as we found no bones, and even then the findings would be inconclusive unless the skeleton was dismembered in some way.
However, this is what I can speculate about. Given that the surrounding islands practice cannibalism, I can assume that it is at least derived from the teachings of this island. The jar in the center of the room could have easily been used to hold blood, and if one considers the ritual cannibalism aspect of it, then it's possible that the people of the village were to ascend the steps, drink the sacrificial blood, and then descend while a priest oversaw the entire process. Perhaps this practice later devolved into rampant cannibalism across the islands, and the temple was abandoned for some reason. Perhaps a famine struck and the people thought the religion to be false and saw no further reason to follow it, or perhaps the practice of drinking blood facilitated the spread of diseases (a radical new theory in medicine, but one that my father has been considering as having some merit). Until I get more information or confirmation from one of the native peoples, all I can do is speculate, but I believe this theory could hold up in academic circles across Calradia. Besides, who's going to refute the only man who's seen it with his own eyes? Still, I will hold off on jumping to conclusions until I collect more information and have explored the entirety of the New World.
March 26, 1420
Thanks to the lack of dangerous animals, hostile natives, and even tempestuous weather, the last few days on this island have been surprisingly pleasant. The city has a sort of peaceful, soothing nature about it once one gets past the fact that it's essentially a graveyard, and some of us have even taken up temporary residence in the abandoned buildings, where it's cooler at night thanks to the shade. However, that peace came to an abrupt end earlier this morning.
I was working with Basim and another man named Anton to excavate some of the ruins in the hopes that there might be gems buried beneath the floors of some of the buildings. This, of course, proved to be futile, but it was fun digging through the ruins anyways. Santiagon was watching us working, when he commented that he hadn't yet thought up a name for the island. Looking around, I off-handedly suggested New Praven, earning myself looks of amused disbelief from the other men, and Santiagon mentioned that he thought I could do better than naming an island after my country's capital city. However, I explained my reasoning to them, in that this seemed to be a regional capital city, perhaps even the capital of an empire. Praven was once the capital of the Calradian Empire, and we were in the New World. Not to mention the fact that some of the buildings had an Imperial feeling to them, but a fresh, new appearance to our Calradian eyes. Thus, I explained, we should name this island not in honor of Swadia, but of our shared Calradian heritage, something that we all could take pride in.
The men listening to my little speech stared at me, surprised, and then Santiagon grinned and agreed that he thought, when put that way, it was a perfect name for the city and the island. However, behind me, I then heard a short, barking laugh full of derision and contempt. Turning around, I saw Ferdinand standing against a pillar, his arms crossed as he shook his head at me. His attention, however, was focused on Santiagon as he asked why I was getting so much preferential treatment. Santiagon looked confused, but Ferdinand pointed out that I was a foreigner, and yet I was being humored with not having a heavy workload as a sailor, being allowed to translate for the group, and even having other men's lives put in danger so I could play around in the ruins, as with the temple expedition a few days ago. Santiagon protested that it was because I'd proven myself valuable, but this set Ferdinand off.
Storming across the courtyard, he screamed at Santiagon about how he was tired of not having his own work recognized, nor that of the other sailors. In fact, he should have seized command of the ship during the attempted mutiny when he had the chance, and none of this would have happened. A few of the men were reaching for their blades to silence Ferdinand, but Santiagon stopped them before patiently asking what Ferdinand wanted. Ferdinand sneered and announced that he wanted to lead the land expeditions from now on, since he was the one with the most scouting experience. I was confused by this, but held my tongue, as Ferdinand added that he also wanted half of the spoils that they found from that point on, so he could dole them out to his men as he pleased. Again... his men? I shall have to make a note to ask about this later.
To his credit, Santiagon showed great restraint in not simply running Ferdinand through where he stood, but what was even more shocking was when he agreed. I haven't said anything but... half of all the spoils? Ferdinand leading the expeditions? What's next, is he going to demand that we call him 'captain' and that he take complete command of the voyage? I have no idea what the captain is thinking, but I'm not going to draw attention to myself right now, since I was apparently the catalyst that set him off. There has to be a story behind this though. I'll ask the captain about it the next time we're on the ship. Preferably in his cabin with the door locked.
Blackwater
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Well, you won't have to wait long to find out. Updated!
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Geh. Holidays are slow. Updated early. Enjoy!
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Aaaaaand updated. Slow post, I know, after all that action, but I felt we needed a breather.
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Huh. I thought that this was going to be a hard post, since not much is ON Samand, but sometimes I guess letting your mind wander produces results. Go figure.
Also. That's right. We have saber-toothed panthers.
Also. That's right. We have saber-toothed panthers.
Blackwater
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New post. Fun stuff next update, I promise!
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And a new post is up. Enjoy!
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Theories about the New World's past! Enjoy.
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The plot thickens! Enjoy!
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Quick modification, posting order and all that to get Part V on its own page.
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Huh. Apparently I've been writing too much and had to put up Part V sooner than I expected. Ah well. Enjoy!
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Part V:
March 28, 1420
We departed New Praven shortly after Ferdinand's outburst, since we felt that we had uncovered all that we could from the ruins. The crew hadn't been this tense since we were on the verge of turning back from the New World. Most of us seem to be on Santiagon's side regarding Ferdinand wresting command from him, but there are a few who seem to favor him, which surprised me to no end. I couldn't fathom how they could even imagine that Ferdinand would make a better leader than Santiagon, but they were clearly leaning towards him in some of the hushed discussions I overheard on deck.
When I had a chance, I knocked on Santiagon's door and was invited inside. I closed the door behind me, and Santiagon looked up at me with mild surprise, asking me if there was anything wrong with anything that I had discovered. I told him that there wasn't, but then I suddenly burst out my opinion that Ferdinand didn't deserve to be in command, and that I wanted to know the captain's reasoning for letting him take control so easily. Santiagon, however, merely smiled and motioned for me to take a seat across from him. As I did, he pulled out a decanter of rum and poured us both generous glasses before settling back in his chair and letting out a long, slow sigh. He was silent for a few moments before he began speaking.
Ferdinand had been a manhunter before this voyage. Growing up a slave, he didn't aspire to free his brethren, but instead only saw that people with money had power, that there was money in slavery, and that if one wasn't a free man, they were a slave. Thus, when he escaped from his master, he turned to slave-hunting himself, taking command of a small group of manhunters by the age of eighteen. I suppose this explains why his weapon of choice is a heavy sledgehammer instead of a more traditional weapon like a sword or an axe. As it turned out, growing up as a slave had given him insight into the thought processes of slaves, such as where their favorite hiding spots were, where the safehouses could be found, and where they were likely to try to escape once they had managed to break their chains. Ferdinand was very good at his job, and by the time he was my age, he was a slaver chief, known throughout Rhodoks for being one of the most ruthless but effective slave-hunters in the region.
When the Coastal War between Rhodoks and the Sarranid Sultanate began, Ferdinand saw even more money to be made off of trading prisoners of war. Rhodoks, like every country, has never been averse to hiring mercenaries to bolster their numbers, and so Ferdinand and his crew were hired on as marines. They were part of Santiagon's crew, in fact, but actually saw little combat, as Santiagon was too skilled a sailor to permit boarding most of the time. He preferred to outmaneuver his opponents and blast them with cannon fire instead of engaging them in close-quarters combat. Ferdinand grew to detest Santiagon, believing that he didn't have the stomach to command effectively, since in Ferdinand's mind, the only true show of strength was physically dominating your opponent, which he had learned as a slave. Santiagon, however, ignored most of Ferdinand's complaints, but kept him on as a crewman since he was so effective as a fighter, and his slaver crew made up roughly a third of the marines on his ship at this time.
After the war, Ferdinand went back to slave-hunting, but he still held a grudge against Santiagon in that he hadn't made enough during the war to retire. Thus, when Santiagon announced his intentions to travel to the New World, Ferdinand saw it as his chance to earn the spoils that had been denied him during the war. Santiagon, for his part, was leery about hiring him back on, apparently, but couldn't deny the man's skill or the number of men under his command, and he reluctantly signed them on for the voyage. When the captain finished, I mentioned that this was all well and good, but still didn't understand why he had let Ferdinand take command. Santiagon, however, merely smiled at me over the rim of his glass and replied that at some point, Ferdinand was going to try and wrest control anyways. This way, he could settle the situation peacefully enough, without having his crew kill each other, at least for the time being. And a few gems were a small price to pay for the knowledge I was collecting during this voyage, which he knew was worth a fortune more than even the precious rocks and metal we had collected up to this point. I wanted to ask more, but the captain then shooed me out of his cabin, stating that he had work to do, and so did I.
I'm still not convinced, but even if I don't trust Ferdinand, I trust the captain, and this is his ship. Perhaps Ferdinand will indeed prove an effective guide on our next expedition to the newest island, which was spotted about an hour ago. I can only hope that the captain has some scheme in mind, since I believe that if Ferdinand has his way, we'll all be in chains, he'll take everything that we've earned, and he'll live like a king while we're working his ill-gotten estate a year from now.
March 31, 1420
We arrived on the new island yesterday, the easiest one to spot in the New World so far, thanks to the large mountain that's growing out of the center of it. Ferdinand, of course, wasted no time naming the island after himself, though I managed to dissuade him slightly from simply using his own name. Instead, I suggested the name Fernandina, which he was confused about, but I told him that it was an affectation of the ancient Calradian language, which made it sound more regal than the more modern variant of his name. Mollified, he accepted this, and thus the island was named. What I didn't mention was that this is the feminine version of the old Calradian name, but from the looks Basim and Santiagon gave me, they at least understood the veiled insult.
When we first landed on the island, it became quickly apparent that this place was inhabited. The first thing that we saw were natives spear-fishing on the beach. They took one look at us and disappeared into the jungle, obviously not wanting to take on such large numbers but clearly prepping for a fight. It's a shame, too, since I had been rather enjoying exploring New Praven without having to wear chainmail. What concerned me, though, was that Ferdinand was clearly eager for a fight. If he intends to capture and enslave these people, he's a bigger fool than I thought. There's no way that the carrack can double as a slave ship, and trying to transport slaves back to Calradia will only prove to be a drain on our already limited resources. Fruit doesn't keep for very long, and we're starting to run low on the dried food we've had since Calradia. Maize keeps for a long time, fortunately, but I doubt that we want to subsist solely on it the entire journey back.
After landing on the beach, Ferdinand announced that he was going to take the lead on this expedition, and that everyone else should march in a formation, as though this was a military exercise. Though I was able to keep from scoffing, I could see a few of the other men share my opinion. The dense jungle is no place for formations, and the natives have a habit of trying to pick us off from a distance. From my experience, it's proven more advantageous to move in a loose cluster, with teams of two or three men working with each other, supplemented by a crossbowman. However, as Santiagon said, Ferdinand is in charge for now. He's going to get us killed, I can tell.
The trek through the jungle was slow, hot work, particularly because today was especially humid. After just fifteen minutes, my under-tunic was soaked with sweat. Made even worse was the fact that Ferdinand's clear goal was the top of the mountain, which he said was going to serve as an excellent vantage point to map the island. Unfortunately for us, it proved steeper than how it looked from a distance, and we were soon trying to climb up an almost sheer rock face in full armor without any equipment. It's a miracle no one fell in the hour that Ferdinand tried to spend scaling the mountain before finally giving up and announcing that we would simply have to make camp, as it was growing dark. Fortunately, he was smart enough to post guards around the perimeter of the camp. However, if my tone hasn't made it perfectly clear, I have no respect for this man, and I can tell it's only going to get worse. Tomorrow, he intends to travel around the mountain, which means we're going to have to attempt to climb it again. I can only pray he doesn't get us killed in the attempt.
April 1, 1420
One of the most obvious features of Fernandina is that, compared with the other islands in the New World, this one is surprisingly sparsely populated with vegetation. Much of the island is either sandy beach or rocky mountainside, at least on the eastern half of the island. It made travel rather easy, but it's a bit of a moot point when there's not much to explore. Ferdinand fortunately had the good sense to bring the ship around, and we spent much of the night sailing around the edge of the mountain rather than trying to climb over it like he initially wanted. A good thing, too, since as we were descending yesterday, one of the men - Linnel - injured himself when a chunk of rock came loose under his boot and he fell a good fifteen feet before landing hard. He sprained his ankle, and he was lucky that it wasn't worse. The one good thing that came out of it was that it dissuaded Ferdinand from attempting another climb the next day.
We landed on the new beach a little before dawn, and Ferdinand had us up and ready to march before we'd even eaten. For once, I was grateful for the chainmail, as its weight provided a bit of extra warmth as we began to move through the surprisingly chilly pre-dawn mists. With low visibility and a sudden reappearance of jungle canopy, it was slow going until the sun rose. Fortunately, I was able to pick a few edible fruits from some low-hanging branches as we were walking, so I didn't go hungry.
By the time lunchtime rolled around, we had been traveling for hours, but by now we were used to such treks. However, the journey was worth it this time. For a while, we had been following the sounds of drumbeats, which were growing steadily louder. No doubt, Ferdinand expected us to stumble across another village laden with treasure. The trek came to an abrupt halt, though, when he suddenly stopped at the crest of a hill and told us to be quiet. He knelt down and peered over the edge, before urging us to come closer and look with him. I was skeptical, but did as ordered.
In the valley beneath us, a group of tribesmen were gathered around a low stone pyramid similar to the one that we had seen on New Praven, but much smaller in scale and lacking a temple. On top of this pyramid was an altar, where an old man was laying peacefully on it as natives swarmed around him, singing in some language that was similar to the one Tlaxlcoatl taught me, but different enough that I could not understand what they were singing. As we watched, one of the tribesmen withdrew an obsidian knife and began chanting something while the other tribesmen continued to sing and the old man looked up at him placidly. The chanting grew louder and louder until at its crescendo, the native plunged his knife into the chest of the old man, who gasped once, twitched, and lay still. Instantly, the other natives descended on him like rabid wolves, devouring his still-warm flesh. I couldn't take my eyes off the ghastly sight. It was horrific, nauseating, and fascinating. And it revealed to me a couple of things about the natives.
My theory about ritual sacrifice was correct, but it seems that my assumptions about its details were off. For one, the jar, in retrospect, was probably a brazier similar to the one that was lit above the man while this ritual was taking place. A rather embarrassing mistake. Furthermore, the cannibalism seems to extend to the entire body, not just the blood as I had originally assumed. I noticed as well that some body parts seemed more important than others. I witnessed a pair of tribesmen fighting over a severed hand, which confused me, since it's not as though the hand is a particularly fleshy part of the body. Perhaps there's a significance behind it, or perhaps the hand is simply more delicious. Having never sampled human flesh, I would not know. However, it's clear that these people do not simply kill and devour their own kind, but that there seems to indeed be a very religious significance behind it. More than this, though, will require further study.
The scene, however, was abruptly broken up with Ferdinand suddenly stood and roared a challenge at the natives, drawing his mace and waving it over his head. The rest of us were as startled as the natives as he charged down the hill towards the tribesmen, who floundered to pick up the spears and bows they had left beside the altar. The rest of us likewise were slow to get to our feet, and Ferdinand had already cracked a couple of skulls before the rest of us could join him in attacking the natives. For my part, I stayed out of the fighting as much as I could. The thought of killing still leaves a sour taste in my mouth, so I hovered near the edges of the melee, trying to stay out of the way. Once, one of the natives spotted me and charged towards me, but one of the other men intercepted him before he could reach me and dispatched him with a crossbow bolt.
At the end of the fight, the natives had either been slaughtered or fled into the jungle. Sadly, however, this was also where we had our first tragedy. One of the men, Chesith, had been unlucky enough to take an arrow through his eye, and had died instantly. When Santiagon discovered this, his calm demeanor dropped, and he screamed at Ferdinand for the first time, saying that the attack was reckless and unnecessary. Ferdinand, however, shouted over him that he had been put in charge, and that Chesith had known the risks when he took part in the voyage. Santiagon seemed about ready to come to blows, but Khaden stepped in and pulled the two men apart. Ferdinand spit at Santiagon when the man had his back turned, while the rest of us remained silent.
Chesith was buried under a tree, and one of the men sang a traditional Rhodoks song of sorrow while the rest of us listened quietly. We then went about picking through the remains of the battle. There was little of value, save for bits of obsidian, but Ferdinand discovered a chest at the foot of the altar containing a pile of rare gemstones and a golden vase, all of which he declared to be his personal property. The rest of us were too tired to argue, and we made camp about two miles away from the altar. It was a quiet, somber night with underlying tension simmering between the two groups of men - Santiagon's and Ferdinand's. I've decided to turn in early tonight. Between the natives (who, if they weren't hostile to us before, certainly are now) and the looming civil war, I'll be lucky if I'm not woken by the sounds of screaming and battle.
April 2, 1420
Amidst the growing tension between the two factions that have become increasingly hostile to one another on this trip, it's nice to know that there are still several opportunities for me to complete the mission that was given to me. Namely, documenting everything that I can about the history and culture of the New World. I'm also glad that it continues to surprise me. When we first landed and encountered the natives, I had feared that the entire world would be populated with nothing but savages who had not advanced beyond stone technology and rude huts. It seems, though, that the further west we go, the more advanced this society - or societies - become.
As we penetrated deeper into the jungle, we encountered more shrines and altars, but these were thankfully deserted. I've said my piece on Ferdinand, and I feel that saying any more will be beating a dead horse. However, attacking the natives does seem to have encouraged them to give us a wide berth. Once or twice I could swear that I heard rustling in the jungle, but no one disturbed us as we traveled west. Thus, we were completely unopposed when we stumbled upon the greatest discovery yet on this island.
Looming before us in a dense jungle was a temple, similar to the one that we had seen on New Praven, but different in several remarkable ways. The most obvious difference was in the design. While the buildings on New Praven were constructed of a heavy grey stone, these are made of white stone, though they do not seem to be made of marble, like ancient Calradian structures. Furthermore, this temple was painted in bright shades of red and blue, with intricate patterns seen, as opposed to the dull, featureless style of New Praven. The temple was also approachable from all sides, with the temple - a different structure entirely from the previous pyramid - open on all sides, suggesting that architectural knowledge had advanced. In fact, I believe this temple to be newer than the one on New Praven, both due to the more advanced techniques used in its construction, its improved condition, and the fact that despite being so deep in the jungle, it's remained relatively untouched by the surrounding vegetation.
Inside, we did manage to find a box filled with offerings of gemstones, but I had little interest in these, since we already have enough treasure to buy a small country by my reckoning. Instead, I'm more interested in what this new discovery means for the timeline of the New World. Could it be that the eastern islands were settled first and subsequently abandoned as the natives moved westward? It would explain the lack of naval technology, which may become more prevalent as we travel. In fact, could ancient Calradians have been the first settlers centuries ago, perhaps Sarranids from the desert somehow utilizing heretofore unknown advanced sailing techniques? Or rather, could it simply be that the eastern civilization decayed with lack of contact and trade between the islands resulting in a degredation of a relatively advanced society, until the people devolved into little more than animals with only vague memories of a decadent past? All theories that I wish to explore more. But one thing is certain. Though the New World is reluctant to give up her secrets, I'm slowly beginning to puzzle together what might have happened in the distant past that would explain the current state of this wild, exotic region.
April 5, 1420
I'm writing this entry from the brig of the ship, surrounded by about ten other men, including Captain Santiagon. All of us are bound in chains, and I'm struggling to see in the dim light of the lanterns that were left lit for us. Fortunately, though my hands are bound, the chains are loose enough that I can write, and I was able to keep my diary, a quill, and a bottle of ink, which I've kept in a small pouch on my belt for the last few months. Perhaps I should explain, however.
Two days ago, while we were once again boarding the ship, Ferdinand demanded the key to the storage room from Santiagon. Santiagon, naturally, refused, and demanded in turn to know why Ferdinand wanted access to the lower decks. Ferdinand calmly explained that, as Santiagon had agreed, half the treasure was now his. I've never seen a man turn such a deep shade of red so quickly, and Santiagon's voice was shaking as he said softly that that had never been part of the arrangement. At this, Ferdinand merely smiled and explained that it was part of the arrangement now, and since Santiagon had refused, he would be taking all of it.
Before we could react, roughly a third of the men drew their swords and began slashing. Unfortunately, three of the others were unable to dodge their assailants, but in that short span of time, the rest of us were able to get our weapons ready. Honestly, I suppose I should thank the natives, since they gave me a little experience in real battle, and that's why I was able to keep from running like a coward when this mutiny suddenly occurred. However, I was in a rather poor position. Though I was able to draw my blade, I was facing down a skinny man by the name of Raddis, who wasn't as burly as some of the men but as quick as a snake. The two of us squared off, and it quickly became evident who was the superior duelist. It was all I could do to keep parrying his blows, which were much faster than when I practiced against Santiagon. Fortunately, though, I've become much faster and much more confident in the months since we first set sail. No longer did I merely try to parry his blows, but I was actually able to throw a couple of strikes against Raddis, which seemed to surprise him. Still, it was only a matter of time before he disarmed me and his blade was at my throat.
Still, I suppose that I was one of the lucky ones, as at that point Ferdinand announced that there was no need to kill the rest of us. By this point, nine men lay dead on the deck, and he said that if he lost any more, we would be unable to sail the ship effectively. Thus, he ordered us prisoners locked in the brig. However, before he did so, he approached Santiagon, took the ring of keys from his belt, and struck him across the face. The captain slumped, blood dripping from his mouth as Ferdinand ordered us below decks and clapped in irons.
Personally, I have no idea why he would choose to strike now. I suspect that he's been planning this for a long while, and he thought this was the best chance to seize control, when we were all tired from the long trek through this latest jungle and the skirmish that he put us through. I also noticed that he spared people who have a purpose beyond merely sailing. For example, Basim was spared, likely for his navigational skills. Khaden is a scout, and the officers were saved, even though they're loyal to Santiagon. I suppose that he didn't kill me because of my linguistic abilities. But I don't understand why he spared Santiagon instead of killing him. Maybe he simply wanted to see Santiagon suffer, stewing in his failure to keep command of his ship.
At the moment, the captain is sitting silently, staring blankly off into the distance. It's the same look I had when I first killed a man, but somehow... even deeper, as though he's carrying the weight that I carried, multiplied. I hope he doesn't blame himself for the deaths of his men, since I believe he couldn't have prevented this. If he had killed Ferdinand earlier, his men llikely would have revolted then and there, and this entire journey would have been scrapped. I don't regret anything that's happened so far, even if this is a rather... unpleasant turn. But there's no point in losing heart now. A chance will surely present itself the next time we land. Already some of the men are whispering to each other, trying to figure out a plan on how to get out of this mess. Aye, this mutiny won't last long, I wager. Ferdinand has his men, but he left the smartest, most skilled members of the crew alive, and all are firmly against him. The tide will shift again soon, I'm sure. We just need to wait for the right moment.
April 7, 1420
Personally, I don't know what Ferdinand is thinking, but this is quite possibly the stupidest idea he's ever had. When we reached the next island, which he named Senja after his wife, he immediately came down into the brig and ordered me, Khaden, and a couple of other sailors who had sided with Santiagon to our feet, explaining that we were going to explore this new island together. When we stood, however, we had two guards watching us with blades pointed at our throats as they clapped us in new irons and told us to walk up on deck. They guided us to lifeboats and into the water, before rowing us to shore like always. Half of Ferdinand's men stayed behind, so we were going into the jungle with roughly a third of the men we had on previous journeys. Not only this, but our wrists had chains hanging off of them that bound us together in a line. When I mentioned that this was a stupid way to travel, Ferdinand admitted that he needed the skills of those he had brought with him - me for my translation and medical abilities, Khaden for his scouting, Senn for his foraging skills, and so forth - but that he couldn't trust us not to turn on him. Senn pointed out that we couldn't very well fight with our hands bound if we ran into trouble, but Ferdinand merely smirked and explained that it just gave Khaden more incentive to be extra careful then.
The trek this time was thoroughly unpleasant. While I welcomed not having to wear chainmail for the first time since New Praven, it was quite another thing to have a man constantly pointing his blade at you to make sure you don't cause trouble. At one point, Senn had to sneeze and raised his hands to his face, whereupon three men instantly had the points of their weapons on his body. On the other hand, though, it showed just how paranoid Ferdinand was and how incompetent of a leader he was if he had to coerce us into working for him.
In any case, the island was typical of the New World in many ways. There was little in the way of flora that was new, which is a bit of a disappointment, as up until now, discovering new species of plants and flowers has been one of the more interesting parts of the trip. Cotton and spices especially were fascinating discoveries, but here, we saw nothing that we hadn't seen before in that regard. The fauna, however, was another matter entirely. Roaming around this island were several cow-like creatures, but with huge horns that extended and twisted far above their heads. The creatures seemed skittish, though, and we only caught glimpses of them watching us intently before skirting off deeper into the trees. Other than these creatures, we also caught sight of a feline creature that came stalking out of the underbrush to survey us. This animal was not unlike the large black cat we saw before, but its fur was spotted, with a tawny yellow coat beneath the dark spots and two large, sickle-like teeth hanging down from its upper jaw. Ferdinand ordered one of his men to shoot it and scare it off, but it escaped before he had even loaded the bolt.
If there's one thing that I can say about this island, it's that it would make any hunter into a very wealthy man. There is a huge potential for ivory trade, especially if those horned creatures can somehow be domesticated. I would be cautious around the felines, though, since they seem to be smarter than Calradian predators. If not domesticated as well (unlikely though that seems, but a possibility, I suppose) or wiped off the island, they could pose a major problem to any colonization efforts to take place on this island. I say this only because I know Santiagon will ask about it later. Or... he would have. He's been listless for the last few days, and I can't decide if he needs a stiff drink or a smack to the face, but something needs to wake him up. Hopefully the others still on the ship can knock some sense into him before we return. With half the guards gone, this is one of their best chances to overthrow their captors, and I would much rather return to a vessel where Ferdinand has a nasty surprise waiting for him in the form of his men laying slaughtered on the deck and Santiagon back in command of his ship.
April 9, 1420
It seems fortune has finally decided to smile on those of us that sided with Santiagon, although fortune tends to be fickle and good luck rarely comes without a price of some sort. In this case, our stroke of good luck came as we were travelling through the jungle, trying to keep up with Ferdinand's pace. The man had been growing increasingly irate as we penetrated the jungle and it became obvious that there was little of value on this island in terms of the gold and gems he was looking for. Once again, it seemed as though we had stumbled across an island that was relatively unspoiled by man's touch. There were no signs that humans had ever been on this island, not even so much as an abandoned campsite or a hut somewhere.
Of course, that's not to say that the island wasn't interesting in its own way. By now, we'd grown sick of jungle, but this particular island had its own charm to it. The animals here were generally larger than those found on other islands, perhaps because humans hadn't hunted the majority of them for food until only the runts remained to breed. As such, we came across several animals we hadn't seen before. The deer notwithstanding, we also saw some larger apes deeper in the jungle, as well as a strange beast that seemed to be a cross between an elephant and a horse which took one look at us before trotting deeper into the underbrush. But there were no signs of gold or gems.
It was around midday when one of Ferdinand's men, Rolan, demanded that we stop by a stream nearby and get some water. It was not particularly humid this day, but as summer was approaching the days were only growing hotter. Ferdinand, however, refused to allow us to rest, but he stopped when he heard groans from two or three of his men. Turning to face them, he asked them in a low voice whether any of them had any complaints. To my surprise, Rolan stepped up, stating that this had been nothing but a wild goose chase for the past couple of days, and that we were still circling this island even though it was obvious that there was nothing on it. He then pointed out that the only reason we were still here was that if Ferdinand didn't return with something, he would lose face with the mutineers who were still hesitant about having joined him in the first place. Ferdinand responded by smacking Rolan across the face and shouting that if he had a problem with it, he shouldn't have joined Ferdinand in the first place. Rolan responded by shouting that he was wishing that he hadn't. Before this could go any further, however, we were caught off-guard by a flash of yellow.
Unbeknownst to us, one of the sabre-toothed spotted cats had apparently been stalking us, and Ferdinand turning his back to it had been a signal to strike. While his armor protected him from the claws and teeth of the thing, he couldn't match its raw strength. It knocked him to the ground and took a few swipes at him as he screamed and tried to get at his mace. As we watched, the cat batted his head again and we heard a sickening snap before Ferdninand stopped moving, his eyes lifeless. The cat then began devouring him as the men began retreating into the jungle, screaming, but those of us that were tied up didn't move, instead watching the cat feast on Ferdinand's corpse, much to my disgust. He was a terrible man, but no one deserved to die like that.
When the cat had finished its meal, it turned to us and appraised us. For a moment, I feared it might see us as even easier prey, but it apparently decided we weren't worth the effort and stalked off into the jungle. We remained frozen for a few minutes more, but when it became apparent that the beast wasn't returning, Basim pulled us to the corpse of Ferdinand. On his person were the keys to our cuffs, which Basim relieved Ferdinand of and unchained us. Khaden then commented that he had been keeping track of where we were going, and he had a general idea of where the ship was last anchored, so provided it hadn't moved, he could get us back without too many problems. Fortunately, we still had plenty of light, so it was only a little past sunset when we reached the beach. Khaden had misjudged the position of the ship, but only insofar as it was further down the beach than we had suspected. An hour later, we were back on board the ship.
We had been debating over the course of the ride whether or not we would need to storm the ship and how to go about it without any weapons, but it seems there was no need. A few of Santiagon's men, led by his officers, had staged a rebellion the first time a guard had reappeared. As it turned out, though, the guard was willing to let them go, pointing out that Ferdinand claiming the treasure had been for himself and not the entire crew as had been promised, so there was no reason to follow Ferdinand anymore. They had freed Santiagon and the others, though no one walked away with fewer than ten lashes for their part in the mutiny. When we returned, we brought news that Ferdinand had perished and the others had run off. There was a brief debate as to whether or not we should go after them, but Santiagon refused. He seemed... colder, harsher after this ordeal, and he stated flatly that they should be left to the fate they had inflicted upon themselves. Thus, we set sail for the next island without further debate, closing a chapter of this story that none of us will forget, but which I will be more than glad to leave in the past now that I no longer have to speak of it.
April 12, 1420
The ship has been rather quiet ever since we departed from Senja. Much as I hate to admit it, it's as though the very soul of the ship has been lost now that Ferdinand is gone. Certainly, he was a bastard by all definitions of the word, but it's the men that went with him that are missed the most. I can even understand their reasoning, to a degree, since many of them fought with Ferdinand in Calradia, and it must have been difficult to try and go against someone who they considered a friend, a brother, perhaps even a father in some cases, just for the sake of following someone who had a ship and the title of captain. But many of us had also made friends with Ferdinand's men, and having to fight them was difficult for even me, and I wasn't even particularly close with any of them. I can't even imagine how some of the others must feel, having to turn their blades on people that they had shared drinks with, fought with, spent these last few months building trust and companionship with, all to have it tossed aside because of one man's ambition. It must feel like they were struck across the face.
Santiagon in particular has been rather withdrawn. Before, he was a cheerful, friendly man who was happy to chat with any of his men and assist them with any problems they'd been having. For the last few days, though, he's been locked in his cabin, only stepping out to eat a meal in the galley by himself, refusing to allow anyone to sit with him. I think he must feel not only the sting of Ferdinand's betrayal, but the weight of indecision about whether or not he can effectively lead the rest of us. Ferdinand's men turned against us so readily, so what's to stop us from doing the same? Of course, everyone left here is loyal to him, but I suppose there's no way for him to know that. It could also be that although he saw this mutiny coming, he must have felt he could prevent it by allowing Ferdinand some freedom. So, should he tighten the reins more, or simply allow another to rise up to the post of captain since he's clearly unfit to lead? At least, that's what I suspect is going through his mind right now.
What's worse is that we're already feeling the loss of men in the daily shipboard duties. Because we don't have men to spare, everyone is having to work twice as hard. I've been pulling ropes and hauling cargo half the day, something I'd never done before. Fortunately, this lifestyle has been good for me, as it's something I would have never been able to accomplish before, but even now I'm feeling my muscles screaming in protest whenever I try to tackle another task. As a result, it's been slow going despite the fact that we've been working harder to get to the next island. Supplies aren't running low yet, as there are less mouths to feed and food is easier to ration, but we've encountered a different sort of problem in that the fruit we collected is starting to rot without enough people to eat it. We've had to toss two barrels of it overboard, and we can only live on dried food for so long. Fortunately, our next destination was spotted a half hour ago, so hopefully we can find some more food before this entire expedition falls completely apart.
March 28, 1420
March 28, 1420
We departed New Praven shortly after Ferdinand's outburst, since we felt that we had uncovered all that we could from the ruins. The crew hadn't been this tense since we were on the verge of turning back from the New World. Most of us seem to be on Santiagon's side regarding Ferdinand wresting command from him, but there are a few who seem to favor him, which surprised me to no end. I couldn't fathom how they could even imagine that Ferdinand would make a better leader than Santiagon, but they were clearly leaning towards him in some of the hushed discussions I overheard on deck.
When I had a chance, I knocked on Santiagon's door and was invited inside. I closed the door behind me, and Santiagon looked up at me with mild surprise, asking me if there was anything wrong with anything that I had discovered. I told him that there wasn't, but then I suddenly burst out my opinion that Ferdinand didn't deserve to be in command, and that I wanted to know the captain's reasoning for letting him take control so easily. Santiagon, however, merely smiled and motioned for me to take a seat across from him. As I did, he pulled out a decanter of rum and poured us both generous glasses before settling back in his chair and letting out a long, slow sigh. He was silent for a few moments before he began speaking.
Ferdinand had been a manhunter before this voyage. Growing up a slave, he didn't aspire to free his brethren, but instead only saw that people with money had power, that there was money in slavery, and that if one wasn't a free man, they were a slave. Thus, when he escaped from his master, he turned to slave-hunting himself, taking command of a small group of manhunters by the age of eighteen. I suppose this explains why his weapon of choice is a heavy sledgehammer instead of a more traditional weapon like a sword or an axe. As it turned out, growing up as a slave had given him insight into the thought processes of slaves, such as where their favorite hiding spots were, where the safehouses could be found, and where they were likely to try to escape once they had managed to break their chains. Ferdinand was very good at his job, and by the time he was my age, he was a slaver chief, known throughout Rhodoks for being one of the most ruthless but effective slave-hunters in the region.
When the Coastal War between Rhodoks and the Sarranid Sultanate began, Ferdinand saw even more money to be made off of trading prisoners of war. Rhodoks, like every country, has never been averse to hiring mercenaries to bolster their numbers, and so Ferdinand and his crew were hired on as marines. They were part of Santiagon's crew, in fact, but actually saw little combat, as Santiagon was too skilled a sailor to permit boarding most of the time. He preferred to outmaneuver his opponents and blast them with cannon fire instead of engaging them in close-quarters combat. Ferdinand grew to detest Santiagon, believing that he didn't have the stomach to command effectively, since in Ferdinand's mind, the only true show of strength was physically dominating your opponent, which he had learned as a slave. Santiagon, however, ignored most of Ferdinand's complaints, but kept him on as a crewman since he was so effective as a fighter, and his slaver crew made up roughly a third of the marines on his ship at this time.
After the war, Ferdinand went back to slave-hunting, but he still held a grudge against Santiagon in that he hadn't made enough during the war to retire. Thus, when Santiagon announced his intentions to travel to the New World, Ferdinand saw it as his chance to earn the spoils that had been denied him during the war. Santiagon, for his part, was leery about hiring him back on, apparently, but couldn't deny the man's skill or the number of men under his command, and he reluctantly signed them on for the voyage. When the captain finished, I mentioned that this was all well and good, but still didn't understand why he had let Ferdinand take command. Santiagon, however, merely smiled at me over the rim of his glass and replied that at some point, Ferdinand was going to try and wrest control anyways. This way, he could settle the situation peacefully enough, without having his crew kill each other, at least for the time being. And a few gems were a small price to pay for the knowledge I was collecting during this voyage, which he knew was worth a fortune more than even the precious rocks and metal we had collected up to this point. I wanted to ask more, but the captain then shooed me out of his cabin, stating that he had work to do, and so did I.
I'm still not convinced, but even if I don't trust Ferdinand, I trust the captain, and this is his ship. Perhaps Ferdinand will indeed prove an effective guide on our next expedition to the newest island, which was spotted about an hour ago. I can only hope that the captain has some scheme in mind, since I believe that if Ferdinand has his way, we'll all be in chains, he'll take everything that we've earned, and he'll live like a king while we're working his ill-gotten estate a year from now.
March 31, 1420
We arrived on the new island yesterday, the easiest one to spot in the New World so far, thanks to the large mountain that's growing out of the center of it. Ferdinand, of course, wasted no time naming the island after himself, though I managed to dissuade him slightly from simply using his own name. Instead, I suggested the name Fernandina, which he was confused about, but I told him that it was an affectation of the ancient Calradian language, which made it sound more regal than the more modern variant of his name. Mollified, he accepted this, and thus the island was named. What I didn't mention was that this is the feminine version of the old Calradian name, but from the looks Basim and Santiagon gave me, they at least understood the veiled insult.
When we first landed on the island, it became quickly apparent that this place was inhabited. The first thing that we saw were natives spear-fishing on the beach. They took one look at us and disappeared into the jungle, obviously not wanting to take on such large numbers but clearly prepping for a fight. It's a shame, too, since I had been rather enjoying exploring New Praven without having to wear chainmail. What concerned me, though, was that Ferdinand was clearly eager for a fight. If he intends to capture and enslave these people, he's a bigger fool than I thought. There's no way that the carrack can double as a slave ship, and trying to transport slaves back to Calradia will only prove to be a drain on our already limited resources. Fruit doesn't keep for very long, and we're starting to run low on the dried food we've had since Calradia. Maize keeps for a long time, fortunately, but I doubt that we want to subsist solely on it the entire journey back.
After landing on the beach, Ferdinand announced that he was going to take the lead on this expedition, and that everyone else should march in a formation, as though this was a military exercise. Though I was able to keep from scoffing, I could see a few of the other men share my opinion. The dense jungle is no place for formations, and the natives have a habit of trying to pick us off from a distance. From my experience, it's proven more advantageous to move in a loose cluster, with teams of two or three men working with each other, supplemented by a crossbowman. However, as Santiagon said, Ferdinand is in charge for now. He's going to get us killed, I can tell.
The trek through the jungle was slow, hot work, particularly because today was especially humid. After just fifteen minutes, my under-tunic was soaked with sweat. Made even worse was the fact that Ferdinand's clear goal was the top of the mountain, which he said was going to serve as an excellent vantage point to map the island. Unfortunately for us, it proved steeper than how it looked from a distance, and we were soon trying to climb up an almost sheer rock face in full armor without any equipment. It's a miracle no one fell in the hour that Ferdinand tried to spend scaling the mountain before finally giving up and announcing that we would simply have to make camp, as it was growing dark. Fortunately, he was smart enough to post guards around the perimeter of the camp. However, if my tone hasn't made it perfectly clear, I have no respect for this man, and I can tell it's only going to get worse. Tomorrow, he intends to travel around the mountain, which means we're going to have to attempt to climb it again. I can only pray he doesn't get us killed in the attempt.
April 1, 1420
One of the most obvious features of Fernandina is that, compared with the other islands in the New World, this one is surprisingly sparsely populated with vegetation. Much of the island is either sandy beach or rocky mountainside, at least on the eastern half of the island. It made travel rather easy, but it's a bit of a moot point when there's not much to explore. Ferdinand fortunately had the good sense to bring the ship around, and we spent much of the night sailing around the edge of the mountain rather than trying to climb over it like he initially wanted. A good thing, too, since as we were descending yesterday, one of the men - Linnel - injured himself when a chunk of rock came loose under his boot and he fell a good fifteen feet before landing hard. He sprained his ankle, and he was lucky that it wasn't worse. The one good thing that came out of it was that it dissuaded Ferdinand from attempting another climb the next day.
We landed on the new beach a little before dawn, and Ferdinand had us up and ready to march before we'd even eaten. For once, I was grateful for the chainmail, as its weight provided a bit of extra warmth as we began to move through the surprisingly chilly pre-dawn mists. With low visibility and a sudden reappearance of jungle canopy, it was slow going until the sun rose. Fortunately, I was able to pick a few edible fruits from some low-hanging branches as we were walking, so I didn't go hungry.
By the time lunchtime rolled around, we had been traveling for hours, but by now we were used to such treks. However, the journey was worth it this time. For a while, we had been following the sounds of drumbeats, which were growing steadily louder. No doubt, Ferdinand expected us to stumble across another village laden with treasure. The trek came to an abrupt halt, though, when he suddenly stopped at the crest of a hill and told us to be quiet. He knelt down and peered over the edge, before urging us to come closer and look with him. I was skeptical, but did as ordered.
In the valley beneath us, a group of tribesmen were gathered around a low stone pyramid similar to the one that we had seen on New Praven, but much smaller in scale and lacking a temple. On top of this pyramid was an altar, where an old man was laying peacefully on it as natives swarmed around him, singing in some language that was similar to the one Tlaxlcoatl taught me, but different enough that I could not understand what they were singing. As we watched, one of the tribesmen withdrew an obsidian knife and began chanting something while the other tribesmen continued to sing and the old man looked up at him placidly. The chanting grew louder and louder until at its crescendo, the native plunged his knife into the chest of the old man, who gasped once, twitched, and lay still. Instantly, the other natives descended on him like rabid wolves, devouring his still-warm flesh. I couldn't take my eyes off the ghastly sight. It was horrific, nauseating, and fascinating. And it revealed to me a couple of things about the natives.
My theory about ritual sacrifice was correct, but it seems that my assumptions about its details were off. For one, the jar, in retrospect, was probably a brazier similar to the one that was lit above the man while this ritual was taking place. A rather embarrassing mistake. Furthermore, the cannibalism seems to extend to the entire body, not just the blood as I had originally assumed. I noticed as well that some body parts seemed more important than others. I witnessed a pair of tribesmen fighting over a severed hand, which confused me, since it's not as though the hand is a particularly fleshy part of the body. Perhaps there's a significance behind it, or perhaps the hand is simply more delicious. Having never sampled human flesh, I would not know. However, it's clear that these people do not simply kill and devour their own kind, but that there seems to indeed be a very religious significance behind it. More than this, though, will require further study.
The scene, however, was abruptly broken up with Ferdinand suddenly stood and roared a challenge at the natives, drawing his mace and waving it over his head. The rest of us were as startled as the natives as he charged down the hill towards the tribesmen, who floundered to pick up the spears and bows they had left beside the altar. The rest of us likewise were slow to get to our feet, and Ferdinand had already cracked a couple of skulls before the rest of us could join him in attacking the natives. For my part, I stayed out of the fighting as much as I could. The thought of killing still leaves a sour taste in my mouth, so I hovered near the edges of the melee, trying to stay out of the way. Once, one of the natives spotted me and charged towards me, but one of the other men intercepted him before he could reach me and dispatched him with a crossbow bolt.
At the end of the fight, the natives had either been slaughtered or fled into the jungle. Sadly, however, this was also where we had our first tragedy. One of the men, Chesith, had been unlucky enough to take an arrow through his eye, and had died instantly. When Santiagon discovered this, his calm demeanor dropped, and he screamed at Ferdinand for the first time, saying that the attack was reckless and unnecessary. Ferdinand, however, shouted over him that he had been put in charge, and that Chesith had known the risks when he took part in the voyage. Santiagon seemed about ready to come to blows, but Khaden stepped in and pulled the two men apart. Ferdinand spit at Santiagon when the man had his back turned, while the rest of us remained silent.
Chesith was buried under a tree, and one of the men sang a traditional Rhodoks song of sorrow while the rest of us listened quietly. We then went about picking through the remains of the battle. There was little of value, save for bits of obsidian, but Ferdinand discovered a chest at the foot of the altar containing a pile of rare gemstones and a golden vase, all of which he declared to be his personal property. The rest of us were too tired to argue, and we made camp about two miles away from the altar. It was a quiet, somber night with underlying tension simmering between the two groups of men - Santiagon's and Ferdinand's. I've decided to turn in early tonight. Between the natives (who, if they weren't hostile to us before, certainly are now) and the looming civil war, I'll be lucky if I'm not woken by the sounds of screaming and battle.
April 2, 1420
Amidst the growing tension between the two factions that have become increasingly hostile to one another on this trip, it's nice to know that there are still several opportunities for me to complete the mission that was given to me. Namely, documenting everything that I can about the history and culture of the New World. I'm also glad that it continues to surprise me. When we first landed and encountered the natives, I had feared that the entire world would be populated with nothing but savages who had not advanced beyond stone technology and rude huts. It seems, though, that the further west we go, the more advanced this society - or societies - become.
As we penetrated deeper into the jungle, we encountered more shrines and altars, but these were thankfully deserted. I've said my piece on Ferdinand, and I feel that saying any more will be beating a dead horse. However, attacking the natives does seem to have encouraged them to give us a wide berth. Once or twice I could swear that I heard rustling in the jungle, but no one disturbed us as we traveled west. Thus, we were completely unopposed when we stumbled upon the greatest discovery yet on this island.
Looming before us in a dense jungle was a temple, similar to the one that we had seen on New Praven, but different in several remarkable ways. The most obvious difference was in the design. While the buildings on New Praven were constructed of a heavy grey stone, these are made of white stone, though they do not seem to be made of marble, like ancient Calradian structures. Furthermore, this temple was painted in bright shades of red and blue, with intricate patterns seen, as opposed to the dull, featureless style of New Praven. The temple was also approachable from all sides, with the temple - a different structure entirely from the previous pyramid - open on all sides, suggesting that architectural knowledge had advanced. In fact, I believe this temple to be newer than the one on New Praven, both due to the more advanced techniques used in its construction, its improved condition, and the fact that despite being so deep in the jungle, it's remained relatively untouched by the surrounding vegetation.
Inside, we did manage to find a box filled with offerings of gemstones, but I had little interest in these, since we already have enough treasure to buy a small country by my reckoning. Instead, I'm more interested in what this new discovery means for the timeline of the New World. Could it be that the eastern islands were settled first and subsequently abandoned as the natives moved westward? It would explain the lack of naval technology, which may become more prevalent as we travel. In fact, could ancient Calradians have been the first settlers centuries ago, perhaps Sarranids from the desert somehow utilizing heretofore unknown advanced sailing techniques? Or rather, could it simply be that the eastern civilization decayed with lack of contact and trade between the islands resulting in a degredation of a relatively advanced society, until the people devolved into little more than animals with only vague memories of a decadent past? All theories that I wish to explore more. But one thing is certain. Though the New World is reluctant to give up her secrets, I'm slowly beginning to puzzle together what might have happened in the distant past that would explain the current state of this wild, exotic region.
April 5, 1420
I'm writing this entry from the brig of the ship, surrounded by about ten other men, including Captain Santiagon. All of us are bound in chains, and I'm struggling to see in the dim light of the lanterns that were left lit for us. Fortunately, though my hands are bound, the chains are loose enough that I can write, and I was able to keep my diary, a quill, and a bottle of ink, which I've kept in a small pouch on my belt for the last few months. Perhaps I should explain, however.
Two days ago, while we were once again boarding the ship, Ferdinand demanded the key to the storage room from Santiagon. Santiagon, naturally, refused, and demanded in turn to know why Ferdinand wanted access to the lower decks. Ferdinand calmly explained that, as Santiagon had agreed, half the treasure was now his. I've never seen a man turn such a deep shade of red so quickly, and Santiagon's voice was shaking as he said softly that that had never been part of the arrangement. At this, Ferdinand merely smiled and explained that it was part of the arrangement now, and since Santiagon had refused, he would be taking all of it.
Before we could react, roughly a third of the men drew their swords and began slashing. Unfortunately, three of the others were unable to dodge their assailants, but in that short span of time, the rest of us were able to get our weapons ready. Honestly, I suppose I should thank the natives, since they gave me a little experience in real battle, and that's why I was able to keep from running like a coward when this mutiny suddenly occurred. However, I was in a rather poor position. Though I was able to draw my blade, I was facing down a skinny man by the name of Raddis, who wasn't as burly as some of the men but as quick as a snake. The two of us squared off, and it quickly became evident who was the superior duelist. It was all I could do to keep parrying his blows, which were much faster than when I practiced against Santiagon. Fortunately, though, I've become much faster and much more confident in the months since we first set sail. No longer did I merely try to parry his blows, but I was actually able to throw a couple of strikes against Raddis, which seemed to surprise him. Still, it was only a matter of time before he disarmed me and his blade was at my throat.
Still, I suppose that I was one of the lucky ones, as at that point Ferdinand announced that there was no need to kill the rest of us. By this point, nine men lay dead on the deck, and he said that if he lost any more, we would be unable to sail the ship effectively. Thus, he ordered us prisoners locked in the brig. However, before he did so, he approached Santiagon, took the ring of keys from his belt, and struck him across the face. The captain slumped, blood dripping from his mouth as Ferdinand ordered us below decks and clapped in irons.
Personally, I have no idea why he would choose to strike now. I suspect that he's been planning this for a long while, and he thought this was the best chance to seize control, when we were all tired from the long trek through this latest jungle and the skirmish that he put us through. I also noticed that he spared people who have a purpose beyond merely sailing. For example, Basim was spared, likely for his navigational skills. Khaden is a scout, and the officers were saved, even though they're loyal to Santiagon. I suppose that he didn't kill me because of my linguistic abilities. But I don't understand why he spared Santiagon instead of killing him. Maybe he simply wanted to see Santiagon suffer, stewing in his failure to keep command of his ship.
At the moment, the captain is sitting silently, staring blankly off into the distance. It's the same look I had when I first killed a man, but somehow... even deeper, as though he's carrying the weight that I carried, multiplied. I hope he doesn't blame himself for the deaths of his men, since I believe he couldn't have prevented this. If he had killed Ferdinand earlier, his men llikely would have revolted then and there, and this entire journey would have been scrapped. I don't regret anything that's happened so far, even if this is a rather... unpleasant turn. But there's no point in losing heart now. A chance will surely present itself the next time we land. Already some of the men are whispering to each other, trying to figure out a plan on how to get out of this mess. Aye, this mutiny won't last long, I wager. Ferdinand has his men, but he left the smartest, most skilled members of the crew alive, and all are firmly against him. The tide will shift again soon, I'm sure. We just need to wait for the right moment.
April 7, 1420
Personally, I don't know what Ferdinand is thinking, but this is quite possibly the stupidest idea he's ever had. When we reached the next island, which he named Senja after his wife, he immediately came down into the brig and ordered me, Khaden, and a couple of other sailors who had sided with Santiagon to our feet, explaining that we were going to explore this new island together. When we stood, however, we had two guards watching us with blades pointed at our throats as they clapped us in new irons and told us to walk up on deck. They guided us to lifeboats and into the water, before rowing us to shore like always. Half of Ferdinand's men stayed behind, so we were going into the jungle with roughly a third of the men we had on previous journeys. Not only this, but our wrists had chains hanging off of them that bound us together in a line. When I mentioned that this was a stupid way to travel, Ferdinand admitted that he needed the skills of those he had brought with him - me for my translation and medical abilities, Khaden for his scouting, Senn for his foraging skills, and so forth - but that he couldn't trust us not to turn on him. Senn pointed out that we couldn't very well fight with our hands bound if we ran into trouble, but Ferdinand merely smirked and explained that it just gave Khaden more incentive to be extra careful then.
The trek this time was thoroughly unpleasant. While I welcomed not having to wear chainmail for the first time since New Praven, it was quite another thing to have a man constantly pointing his blade at you to make sure you don't cause trouble. At one point, Senn had to sneeze and raised his hands to his face, whereupon three men instantly had the points of their weapons on his body. On the other hand, though, it showed just how paranoid Ferdinand was and how incompetent of a leader he was if he had to coerce us into working for him.
In any case, the island was typical of the New World in many ways. There was little in the way of flora that was new, which is a bit of a disappointment, as up until now, discovering new species of plants and flowers has been one of the more interesting parts of the trip. Cotton and spices especially were fascinating discoveries, but here, we saw nothing that we hadn't seen before in that regard. The fauna, however, was another matter entirely. Roaming around this island were several cow-like creatures, but with huge horns that extended and twisted far above their heads. The creatures seemed skittish, though, and we only caught glimpses of them watching us intently before skirting off deeper into the trees. Other than these creatures, we also caught sight of a feline creature that came stalking out of the underbrush to survey us. This animal was not unlike the large black cat we saw before, but its fur was spotted, with a tawny yellow coat beneath the dark spots and two large, sickle-like teeth hanging down from its upper jaw. Ferdinand ordered one of his men to shoot it and scare it off, but it escaped before he had even loaded the bolt.
If there's one thing that I can say about this island, it's that it would make any hunter into a very wealthy man. There is a huge potential for ivory trade, especially if those horned creatures can somehow be domesticated. I would be cautious around the felines, though, since they seem to be smarter than Calradian predators. If not domesticated as well (unlikely though that seems, but a possibility, I suppose) or wiped off the island, they could pose a major problem to any colonization efforts to take place on this island. I say this only because I know Santiagon will ask about it later. Or... he would have. He's been listless for the last few days, and I can't decide if he needs a stiff drink or a smack to the face, but something needs to wake him up. Hopefully the others still on the ship can knock some sense into him before we return. With half the guards gone, this is one of their best chances to overthrow their captors, and I would much rather return to a vessel where Ferdinand has a nasty surprise waiting for him in the form of his men laying slaughtered on the deck and Santiagon back in command of his ship.
April 9, 1420
It seems fortune has finally decided to smile on those of us that sided with Santiagon, although fortune tends to be fickle and good luck rarely comes without a price of some sort. In this case, our stroke of good luck came as we were travelling through the jungle, trying to keep up with Ferdinand's pace. The man had been growing increasingly irate as we penetrated the jungle and it became obvious that there was little of value on this island in terms of the gold and gems he was looking for. Once again, it seemed as though we had stumbled across an island that was relatively unspoiled by man's touch. There were no signs that humans had ever been on this island, not even so much as an abandoned campsite or a hut somewhere.
Of course, that's not to say that the island wasn't interesting in its own way. By now, we'd grown sick of jungle, but this particular island had its own charm to it. The animals here were generally larger than those found on other islands, perhaps because humans hadn't hunted the majority of them for food until only the runts remained to breed. As such, we came across several animals we hadn't seen before. The deer notwithstanding, we also saw some larger apes deeper in the jungle, as well as a strange beast that seemed to be a cross between an elephant and a horse which took one look at us before trotting deeper into the underbrush. But there were no signs of gold or gems.
It was around midday when one of Ferdinand's men, Rolan, demanded that we stop by a stream nearby and get some water. It was not particularly humid this day, but as summer was approaching the days were only growing hotter. Ferdinand, however, refused to allow us to rest, but he stopped when he heard groans from two or three of his men. Turning to face them, he asked them in a low voice whether any of them had any complaints. To my surprise, Rolan stepped up, stating that this had been nothing but a wild goose chase for the past couple of days, and that we were still circling this island even though it was obvious that there was nothing on it. He then pointed out that the only reason we were still here was that if Ferdinand didn't return with something, he would lose face with the mutineers who were still hesitant about having joined him in the first place. Ferdinand responded by smacking Rolan across the face and shouting that if he had a problem with it, he shouldn't have joined Ferdinand in the first place. Rolan responded by shouting that he was wishing that he hadn't. Before this could go any further, however, we were caught off-guard by a flash of yellow.
Unbeknownst to us, one of the sabre-toothed spotted cats had apparently been stalking us, and Ferdinand turning his back to it had been a signal to strike. While his armor protected him from the claws and teeth of the thing, he couldn't match its raw strength. It knocked him to the ground and took a few swipes at him as he screamed and tried to get at his mace. As we watched, the cat batted his head again and we heard a sickening snap before Ferdninand stopped moving, his eyes lifeless. The cat then began devouring him as the men began retreating into the jungle, screaming, but those of us that were tied up didn't move, instead watching the cat feast on Ferdinand's corpse, much to my disgust. He was a terrible man, but no one deserved to die like that.
When the cat had finished its meal, it turned to us and appraised us. For a moment, I feared it might see us as even easier prey, but it apparently decided we weren't worth the effort and stalked off into the jungle. We remained frozen for a few minutes more, but when it became apparent that the beast wasn't returning, Basim pulled us to the corpse of Ferdinand. On his person were the keys to our cuffs, which Basim relieved Ferdinand of and unchained us. Khaden then commented that he had been keeping track of where we were going, and he had a general idea of where the ship was last anchored, so provided it hadn't moved, he could get us back without too many problems. Fortunately, we still had plenty of light, so it was only a little past sunset when we reached the beach. Khaden had misjudged the position of the ship, but only insofar as it was further down the beach than we had suspected. An hour later, we were back on board the ship.
We had been debating over the course of the ride whether or not we would need to storm the ship and how to go about it without any weapons, but it seems there was no need. A few of Santiagon's men, led by his officers, had staged a rebellion the first time a guard had reappeared. As it turned out, though, the guard was willing to let them go, pointing out that Ferdinand claiming the treasure had been for himself and not the entire crew as had been promised, so there was no reason to follow Ferdinand anymore. They had freed Santiagon and the others, though no one walked away with fewer than ten lashes for their part in the mutiny. When we returned, we brought news that Ferdinand had perished and the others had run off. There was a brief debate as to whether or not we should go after them, but Santiagon refused. He seemed... colder, harsher after this ordeal, and he stated flatly that they should be left to the fate they had inflicted upon themselves. Thus, we set sail for the next island without further debate, closing a chapter of this story that none of us will forget, but which I will be more than glad to leave in the past now that I no longer have to speak of it.
April 12, 1420
The ship has been rather quiet ever since we departed from Senja. Much as I hate to admit it, it's as though the very soul of the ship has been lost now that Ferdinand is gone. Certainly, he was a bastard by all definitions of the word, but it's the men that went with him that are missed the most. I can even understand their reasoning, to a degree, since many of them fought with Ferdinand in Calradia, and it must have been difficult to try and go against someone who they considered a friend, a brother, perhaps even a father in some cases, just for the sake of following someone who had a ship and the title of captain. But many of us had also made friends with Ferdinand's men, and having to fight them was difficult for even me, and I wasn't even particularly close with any of them. I can't even imagine how some of the others must feel, having to turn their blades on people that they had shared drinks with, fought with, spent these last few months building trust and companionship with, all to have it tossed aside because of one man's ambition. It must feel like they were struck across the face.
Santiagon in particular has been rather withdrawn. Before, he was a cheerful, friendly man who was happy to chat with any of his men and assist them with any problems they'd been having. For the last few days, though, he's been locked in his cabin, only stepping out to eat a meal in the galley by himself, refusing to allow anyone to sit with him. I think he must feel not only the sting of Ferdinand's betrayal, but the weight of indecision about whether or not he can effectively lead the rest of us. Ferdinand's men turned against us so readily, so what's to stop us from doing the same? Of course, everyone left here is loyal to him, but I suppose there's no way for him to know that. It could also be that although he saw this mutiny coming, he must have felt he could prevent it by allowing Ferdinand some freedom. So, should he tighten the reins more, or simply allow another to rise up to the post of captain since he's clearly unfit to lead? At least, that's what I suspect is going through his mind right now.
What's worse is that we're already feeling the loss of men in the daily shipboard duties. Because we don't have men to spare, everyone is having to work twice as hard. I've been pulling ropes and hauling cargo half the day, something I'd never done before. Fortunately, this lifestyle has been good for me, as it's something I would have never been able to accomplish before, but even now I'm feeling my muscles screaming in protest whenever I try to tackle another task. As a result, it's been slow going despite the fact that we've been working harder to get to the next island. Supplies aren't running low yet, as there are less mouths to feed and food is easier to ration, but we've encountered a different sort of problem in that the fruit we collected is starting to rot without enough people to eat it. We've had to toss two barrels of it overboard, and we can only live on dried food for so long. Fortunately, our next destination was spotted a half hour ago, so hopefully we can find some more food before this entire expedition falls completely apart.
Blackwater
Veteran
And posted. Kind of a weak one, but it's set-up for the next one, which will be better.
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There we go, new post. More on the island to follow tomorrow!
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And updated. Enjoy dissertations!
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Plot twist! o:
