Blackwater
Veteran
Aaaaaand updated. Long wait, I know.
Diary of the New World - Completed 8/23/2015 - See Page 12 for latest updates
- 主题发起人 Blackwater
- 开始时间
正在查看此主题的用户
Veteran
Blackwater
Veteran
Part X
June 26, 1420
My diary entries are becoming more and more spread out, I notice, as I have less and less time to focus on writing due to my navigational duties. But I do seem to have at least a little time this evening while I'm eating dinner - fresh fish caught by the men over the side of the ship along with boiled maize and fresh fruit. It's the best dinner that we've eaten in days. However, I find that I'm increasingly yearning for the native food of Calradia. Boar rather than elik roasts, bread instead of maize, the crisper and less tangy fruits of my homeland. Proper wine would be a welcome change as well, even watered down as it usually is. But I'm not complaining that we don't have food. For the moment, we're very well-stocked, and I pray that it will be enough when we reach the proper ocean, which is drawing nearer with each passing day.
We've continued our travels to the northeast, relying on beating to travel against the prevailing winds. This technique enables us to at least travel slowly, but as it's impossible to sail completely against the wind, we're having to take it in stride, keeping a close eye on the wind and using it to propel ourselves as far as possible. It's also made my navigation erratic and difficult, but I've been able to keep up with it thanks to Basim double-checking my work.
Fortunately, our bearing and position has not been very difficult to keep track of. We've been sailing along the northwestern coast of Samand for the last couple of days, keeping the shore to our right to ease the difficulty of realizing our position. I suspect that even though this is taking more time, it's also so that Basim can allow me more practice with my navigational techniques, using landmarks as clear bearings to understand where we are. He's been having me check our position without looking outside, and then taking me outside to ensure that we're still on course based on visual cues. At first I struggled, but I've become gradually more accurate. Though I have yet to make pinpoint readings to the level of proficiency Basim displays, I can at least now more or less keep us on course throughout the course of the day. The main enemy I face is fatigue, when my concentration begins slipping towards the end of the day as I grow tired and hungry. However, even this is fading as I've grown used to the long hours spent navigating.
The other advantage keeping to the shoreline grants us is access to fresh food. We've sent scouts along the treeline occasionally during our drifting pace to catch fish that swim close to shore or fruits from nearby, low-hanging branches. Twice we were spotted by one of the native tribes, but warning shots from our cannons steered them away from the men. They were unloaded, but the sheer noise and spectacle of the cannons firing was more than enough to deter the would-be attackers. Soon, however, we'll have to make a decision. I suspect Basim will want to start moving in a more northerly direction, in an attempt to catch his theoretical trade winds and hopefully help us sail our way back home. Until then, I'm enjoying the leisurely pace and the pleasant scenery. The weather has been calm as well, without a storm in sight. It seems a rare moment of peace before the real work begins.
July 3, 1420
For the past few days, we'd been sailing along the southern coast of an island that we hadn't encountered yet before reaching open ocean again. At first, I thought it might be Fjoror, the island where Aeric the Navigator landed and first discovered the New World. However, my theory was proven incorrect earlier this morning when we reached the coast of a new island even further to the east. This island actually matches the description of Aeric's island better based on what he wrote in his own journals, though the previous island also seemed to be a worthy candidate, so my confusion is natural. Upon looking over the maps, Basim decided that the island that we discovered before was a new island that we simply didn't bother exploring very much. He gave it the name of Eztes, a name that in the Sarranid language simply means "east." It's a fitting name, as it's served as a guidepost for what we considered was the easternmost island until Fjoror was rediscovered.
We anchored on the southern coast of Fjoror, which I sincerely believe will the our last stop before we depart for Calradia. It's a little ironic in my eyes. What was the first place ever discovered in the New World will, for us, be our last bit of land for several weeks, if my calculations are correct. Naturally, since this was our final stop, we decided to spend a couple of days taking the risk of exploring the jungle so that we could secure enough food for a possible return trip. Most of our cargo space is now being taken up with food and water, and even then I can only hope that it'll be enough. Much of our food consists of dried maize, dried fruit, dried meat, salted fish, and the remnants of the hard bread what we brought with us in the first place. Hopefully we'll be able to supplement our diet with a little fish on the way, but catching fish at sea is a difficult task at best. We shall see.
I actually did take this opportunity to go ashore for a change, accompanied by a couple of men, to see if I couldn't at least find the remnants of the village that Aeric claims that he raided. We traveled through the jungle for most of the day, and while Fjoror is one of the smallest islands we've ever visited, the mass was still substantial enough to keep us from penetrating very far into it before we had to turn back to shore. We found no evidence of a village, but that neither confirms nor refutes Aeric's claims. For one, a typical village is made of wood and reeds, the sort of things that could be easily burned in a raid and reclaimed by a jungle afterwards. There's also the fact that we anchored on the southern end of the island and did not go very far, while Aeric would have likely landed on the northern coast if he was coming from Calradia. We also didn't encounter any natives on the island (thankfully), but whether this means that Aeric killed all the inhabitants or if we simply didn't see any, I will never know. Nevertheless, it was a fruitless trip, and none of my questions were answered, but such is the nature of academic study sometimes.
I did return to the ship feeling somewhat refreshed. Perhaps it was the chance to stretch my legs after being aboard the ship for so long. Perhaps it was being able to explore one last time for the sake of study, even if nothing was found, and not having to truly fear for my life during the expedition. Perhaps it was even a bit of nostalgia for when we first arrived on the island. It was certainly an interesting look back. When I first arrived, I was fresh with ideas and misconceptions about the New World, a wholly alien environment untouched and unexplored by man. Now much of the mystique is gone, and I'm certainly not the man I was when I first arrived. All in all, despite all the hardships, I certainly don't regret coming on this voyage. But I would be lying if I didn't say that I wasn't eager to finally be returning home.
July 5, 1420
We finally left the New World behind and headed out into the open ocean. We're completely stocked on food, with enough to hopefully last us a few months, though I doubt we'll ever develop a major taste for the food. The cook, Eran, has found a way to grind up maize with a mortar and pestle and bake it in a way similar to bread so that it stays fresh longer. These hard crackers aren't particularly appetizing, but neither is hard tack made from wheat. My only real complaint is that the seeds tend to scratch my throat on the way down, so I've been drinking a fair bit more grog than I would have when I first started on this journey. It's not as though we seriously have to ration it, either; harsh as it sounds, one of the few good things about having a smaller crew is that there's less need to fight for one's dinner, though Basim still wants us to ration our meals in case something unforeseen happens. I can sympathize, but it's also a relief to know that the consequences likely won't be as dire.
When we started out into the ocean, everything seemed to slow down for some reason. Perhaps it's the sheer scope of what lies before us, or perhaps it's the fact that we no longer have to fear reefs and sandbars, but there's a general sense of calm, even lethargy among the crew. It could also be weariness after so many adventures, or the fact that we can simply point the ship more or less in one direction and keep it there with few deviations. All I have to do at the moment is take morning and evening readings along with intermittent smaller readings throughout the day, which is a welcome change from the much more difficult navigation I had to perform when in the New World. The only problem is that the going is slow. The wind is strong, but it's blowing in a direction that the ship is hard-pressed to sail against, so it's a good thing that we have so much food to last us.
The other problem has become fighting off boredom. I've taken to playing with some of the men in their card and dice games, though I never play if stakes are wagered. After all, I've had my fair share of testing my luck in the New World; I don't need to do it here. Among the wagers of the men are rations of grog, small shares of treasure (which we are fully laden with, and every man is likely to have a small fortune if we sell it anyways), and some of the strange dried leaves that the natives gave us. I haven't gone into these much previously because I don't partake in the practice, but the natives have a plant that they call topako, which they stuff into pipes and light ablaze before inhaling the smoke. It releases a sweet, earthy smell and I'm told that it leaves one with a pleasant floating feeling. Personally, though, I've also seen some of the men coughing afterwards, and fear that it might do damage to my lungs. The only thing I intend to inhale is pure air, and it also makes it easier to decline placing bets on the games of chance when I don't even have a share of the topako to wager in the first place. Funnily enough, because I'm not risking my health, I'm sure my father would be proud.
July 9, 1420
It's been an interesting night. I've fallen into a routine of taking measurements of the stars about an hour before sunrise and two hours after sunset, when the stars are at their brightest, so I can approximately gauge our location based on their position. As I was taking the evening reading, I was surprised when Basim came up and stood beside me. It was then that I noticed he had extinguished the lamps on the deck, leaving us in darkness, and he stood beside me with his hands folded behind his back. He didn't say anything, but merely stared up at the stars for a long while. Just when I was starting to wonder whether or not he wanted me to say something or just head inside, he spoke up, mentioning that this was the first time in a long time that he'd been able to see the stars clearly, rather than through the canopy of a jungle or on a ship with the lights on. There was something comforting, he said, about being able to see every star in the night sky. It was something that reminded him of his home.
When I asked him if he meant the Sarranid desert, he smiled lightly and then asked if I'd like to join him for a drink. Motioning for me to follow, he led me back into the captain's cabin. It was dimly lit, and over the last few weeks he had rearranged a few things, but it was still the same general layout that Santiagon had used when he was captain. Basim motioned for me to take a seat in front of his desk before pulling out a decanter filled with a deep red liquid, which he poured into a pair of glasses. After sampling it, I realized that it was a spiced red wine, a variety that I'd never had before. When I mentioned this, Basim grinned and replied that it was actually a rare vintage that had been made by Rhodoks vinters and flavored with Sarranid spices. It had been made to commemorate the end of the war between the Sarranids and Rhodoks, and it was also a symbol of his friendship with Santiagon.
We sat in silence for a little while, enjoying the wine, before Basim asked me why I had decided to join the expedition in the first place, since it seemed like an odd choice for a scholar. I told him my reasons, from my desire to marry Kivana to my father refusing me funds and the fact that this was likely the only chance I would have to make a career out of a degree in history and the humanities. Basim listened in fascination, and when I finished, he was silent for a long while before he admitted that he didn't think he'd have the same courage that I had if he was in my situation. I don't think of it as courage so much as desperation, but I wasn't about to correct him. I then asked him what his own story was, why he'd decided to join Santiagon. I knew it had to do with their mutual respect for each other, but I was still curious what his story was. Basim obliged me by sating my curiosity.
He was born forty-one years ago as the second son of his father's second wife. In the Sarranid Sultanate, men are permitted to take multiple wives so long as they can prove that they will love each one equally. His father was an astronomer and a courtier for the Sultan, so Basim was always well-off. From a young age, his father taught him how to read the stars, as well as how to apply them to Sarranid theories of mathematics, geometry, and navigation, all of which are generally more advanced than most of the other countries in Calradia (though Swadia will never admit it). At night was the only time that the desert was cool, and Basim used to love spending hours basking in the darkness, learning the stars and constellations while spending time with his father. The two developed a strong bond, which is apparently rare for children so far removed from their father's legacy, with primogeniture in place even in the Sarranid Sultanate. Basim was all set to become an astronomer in his own right, and he was groomed for it from a young age until he reached the age of twenty-one. Then his father ordered him to make his own way in the world.
Basim responded by signing aboard a military vessel as a navigator, a fairly prestigious position and one that his father accepted. It wasn't enough to bring significant prestige to his line, but it also didn't bother his father, so the arrangement was satisfactory. At the age of twenty-two his marriage to a magistrate's daughter was arranged, and the two had a pair of sons who are now slightly younger than I am. Basim spent much of his time touring along the coast of the Sultanate and Rhodoks, serving as a pirate hunter of sorts. He was a senior officer when the war with Rhodoks broke out, and it was here that he and Santiagon fought and developed mutual respect for each other. After the war, he realized that all he knew was sailing, and since the war was over and the waters calm again, there was little to do as a pirate hunter. His sons were also grown and trying to make their own way in the world, so there was nothing holding him back from having an adventure with his former adversary, which is how he signed on for the voyage. And in spite of everything, he still doesn't regret it.
When he finished his story, our wine glasses had been refilled twice, and my head was swimming slightly; clearly, this wine was not watered down. I asked him if he intended to retire after this, since the wealth we had was more than enough to ensure that he would live comfortably for the rest of his life, even if his father hadn't been so high up in the aristocracy. Basim replied that he might, but that he would be loath to stop adventuring. That was why he had come on this trip in the first place, for the excitement of discovering what lay beyond the horizon. So he might retire, but he doubted it. He felt he still had one or two adventures left in him. He then mentioned that it was getting late and that we both had to be up again in a few hours, so he ushered me out of his office and told me to get some sleep. But despite how late I went to bed and the buzzing in the back of my mind due to the alcohol, I don't regret having stayed up to speak with him. Hearing his story has been one of the few things of note lately that has cut through the boredom of sailing on the open sea. It's why I have such large gaps in my journal nowadays. Perhaps I should speak with the other crew members and jot down their stories as well. We've sailed together for so long, and yet I barely know them. This needs to be rectified.
July 14, 1420
Stormclouds are on the horizon. And I wish that I was using that as a metaphor instead of a statement of fact. Fortunately, it doesn't seem to be a major storm, but we can see the flashes of lightning and hear the rumbles of thunder from here. It's why I'm taking a moment to collect my thoughts before we have to go out on deck and deal with the mess we're sailing into. Of course, it's not as though we can avoid it. In fact, Basim seems intent on sailing towards it, though God only knows why. He doesn't seem the type to try commit suicide at this rate, and certainly not with our lives in his hands. Personally, I'm less worried about the ship sinking, and more about how this is going to throw off my calculations. Basim promised that he would help me look them over once he was done, but I can understand why he's more focused on getting us through the coming storm, so I'm not going to bother him. The best I can hope to do is keep track of which way the wind is blowing and try and correct as best I can for how far we get blown off-course.
At the moment, aside from writing, I'm killing time by watching a dice game between two of the other sailors, Calen and Tabor. The two of them never really spoke before Ferdinand's insurrection, but after most of the crew died, they spent more time hanging around each other, and seem to have become pretty good friends in the process. Neither one is particularly skilled at any one task, but they both make solid sailors and attend to whatever tasks need to be done around here. To kill some time, I decided to ask them how they ended up aboard the ship with the rest of us.
Calen is one of the younger members of the crew, only in his mid-twenties, and he has yet to settle down with a family. He was the third son of four in a farming family, and naturally he was given a raw deal from the moment that he was born. Of course he spent time learning how to farm and working in the fields, but there was no chance that he was going to inherit the land once his parents passed on, not with two brothers ahead of him. What's worse is that he knew he didn't have the intelligence to be a monk, since he still has trouble reading and writing, and I doubt he would have the patience for it either, so even that avenue was cut off to him (though I could tell him that he would do just fine as a lay person, but seeing as his arms are as thick as my chest, I thought it wiser not to speak up). He went to Jelkala looking for work, and was fortunate enough to stumble across Santiagon when he was recruiting sailors. Though he didn't have any sailing experience, he figured that the pay was good enough that he signed on. The promise of additional treasure was just a bonus. When I asked him what he intended to do with his share of the money, he replied simply that he was going to buy some land in one of Rhodoks' valleys and try to use the rest to entice some village girl into joining him on his new farm. Because that's what true love is all about: bribery.
Tabor's story is more tragic. He's in his late thirties, but looks as though he's at least a decade older than that. Like Calen, he was a farmer by birth, but he was the only one of his parent's male children to survive (his two sisters were later married off to other men in Rhodoks). However, at the age of sixteen, his father died, leaving him as the owner of the farm. He married a plain-looking girl, but she cooked well and they got along fine, even having a child of their own. For about twenty years, life wasn't bad, until a fire started in their barn. It had been a dry summer and the fire quickly spread to the farmhouse. While Tabor was trying to put out the blaze in the barn, he didn't realize that it had spread to his family's house until he heard it collapse behind him. His wife and children were still inside. Their deaths crushed him, and worse, he didn't have the money to rebuild the farm. Left with no other options, he went to Jelkala, and like Calen, saw that Santiagon was looking for sailors. For Tabor, though, the journey was about getting away from Calradia. With his share of the treasure, he intends to simply buy a cottage by the sea and just forget.
It took me over an hour for him to divulge his story, and only after he and Calen were rather drunk. I can't blame him either. I've never thought of my life as particularly hard, but the problems that I've faced are paltry compared with what others have experienced. When I mentioned this to Tabor, though, he smiled wearily and pointed out that we've all been through the same hardships during out trip to the New World. Whatever our pasts before then, we're all equal now, since we've all faced the same terrors. He has a point. But never again will I complain about my lot in life when not only have I experienced worse, but I also now know that there are some who have it even worse still. Instead, I should be eternally grateful for what I have.
July 17, 1420
The storm lasted two days, and unfortunately during that time, we were worn down and exhausted thanks to the constant rain. The winds weren't particularly powerful, so it wasn't as though we were caught in a hurricane, but the rain rarely let up and the winds were erratic, making it difficult to stay on course. In particular it was difficult for me to keep an exact heading, and it's not as though I could ask Basim where we were going. He told the helmsman and I to keep us pointed as north as we could, which was a difficult task with the ship rocking back and forth so much that the compass refused to cooperate. I feel even worse for the men who were up on deck for most of it, though. Storms were difficult enough to deal with when we had a full crew; here, with about a third of the men we started with, it was nearly impossible. Somehow we managed to pull through, and Basim ordered a day of relative rest at sea for us so we could recover our strength.
Based on my calculations, we were blown further northwest, putting us even further out into open ocean and away from Calradia. On the one hand, we did make some progress, since it's not as though we were sailing directly back to the New World. But this will put us back a few days at least, prolonging our trip. Worse, some of the seawater got into our food supplies, turning it soggy. It was mostly maize, so we simply boiled that and turned it into a feast, but the fact that we're losing rations this early into the voyage could be deadly. Starving at sea is not a fate that anyone particularly wishes to experience. Our water supplies, thankfully, were untouched, and even bolstered by the rainwater, so the situation is not as dire as it could be.
After the storm let up earlier this morning, I stepped out on deck and was greeted with an absolutely gorgeous sight. The sun was partially risen, and the eastern sky was bathed in fiery gold. To the west were the remnants of the storm, the clouds illuminated by the morning sun, so gold and silver competed for dominance in sky. The sea was rolling under the remnants of the light rain that was still falling, a dark grey color like molten lead, giving the angelic sky a foil by appearing much more dangerous and foreboding. Most beautiful of all, in the light of the morning sky I caught sight of a double rainbow piercing through the heavens to the north, while crystalline drops of rain still fell softly on the deck of the ship. The spectacle left me breathless, and as I stood there, I noticed a breath of wind rush across my face. Checking the direction, I realized that it was blowing east. This more than anything else made my heart swell with joy, and I cried out loudly enough to startle the skeleton crew that was also on deck. Basim asked what the commotion was, and when I pointed out the direction of the wind, he too broke into a wide grin and let out a whooping cheer. It seems that despite the hardships we faced during the storm, it was a blessing in disguise as it pushed us into the belt of easterly winds. From now on I can only hope that it'll be smooth sailing all the way back home.
July 22, 1420
When dinner was served tonight, I noticed that it was accompanied by a slab of fresh fish, something that we hadn't had for quite some time. We're not short on rations yet, but after weeks of dried food, actual fresh meat was a delicacy that one who hasn't subsisted on such fare can scarcely imagine. I had been eating with Basim, and when I asked who it was who caught the fish, he pointed me over to a man sitting by the side of the ship, who was busy repairing the nets that we occasionally draped over the side of the ship in the vain hope of catching something. I recognized the man as Revir, a man in his twenties who was one of the standard sailors hired on by Santiagon. I went over and complimented his catch, but he waved it away, saying that it was unnecessary. According to him, it was just good to be doing something with his hands again. When I asked what he meant, he told me that it was a boring story, but I sat with him until he finally began to tell his tale.
He was the third of four brothers who had been born to a fisherman and his wife near the coast of Yalen. They lived a poor lifestyle with nothing more than a simple shack as their house and a worn-down vessel as their fishing boat. He recalled that the shack always reeked of fish and salt, but it was something that one grew used to over time. He knew how to wield a knife and scale a fish before he was able to speak in complete sentences, and he was sailing on his father's boat and helping to catch fish by the age of seven. He'd spent his entire life at sea, and he and his brothers traded posts with their father, so sometimes he would handle the jib, other times he would man the sails, and still others he would watch for fish to spear or net and bring them on board. Back on shore, they would behead, scale, gut, clean and salt the fish before transporting it to Yalen in exchange for a few measly florins that were barely enough to buy vegetables and replacement tools and nets when things broke down. Year after year, they barely scraped by, but while it was a hard life, it was also strangely satisfying.
However, everything changed when his parents grew old and died in the same year, leaving the four brothers alone with the boat. What's worse is that his eldest brother, Naro, wanted to marry a local girl and start a family of his own, which would leave the brothers with even fewer hands on deck. His second brother, Aster, managed to convince him to wait one more season so that they could get their affairs in order, but things turned even worse when a poor fishing season meant they had to sell the shack as well, leaving them with nothing but the boat and each other. Desperate, Revir decided that the only chance that he had was to sign on with a ship and try to make a little money so that they could scrape by for another season, and Santiagon was the only one hiring in the harbor at the time who needed experienced hands. Revir knew nothing about the journey to the New World when he first signed on. All he knew was that there was paying work, and that this way he could help save his family.
When he finished, I slyly asked him if he felt he'd been compensated enough on this journey, and he burst out laughing. He then commented that with the money we had gathered, he had more than enough to buy a new ship, a house for his brothers, and even enough to start his own small fishing company if he wanted. Having finished my meal, I pushed myself up and thanked him, but them paused and asked him what kind of fish I had just consumed. Revir grinned at me and replied that he had no idea; it was a new species of fish that he had never seen before, a sort of giant blue-skinned herring that had been travelling in a school near our ship. I pondered this statement for a few moments before grinning at the sheer insanity of it. The fish was only the latest in a series of exotic foods no Calradian before us had ever sampled. No one can say that we aren't getting our fill of new experiences on this voyage.
July 28, 1420
Another major storm hit last night, so it was another long night of trying to keep the ship on course, though thankfully with the prevailing easterly winds, it was less difficult, since all we've had to do is sail with the breeze. However, the storm did throw us off-course slightly, and I've been having to correct it by myself since Basim came down with a fever two days ago. It doesn't look like the same thing that afflicted Khaden, but I treated it with some tea and lemon and ordered bedrest anyways. His fever broke, but he's still feeling weak. In the interim, I've been steering the ship as best I can, but I fear I may have put us further off-course. How much more, I don't know, but a tiny error can result in a disparity of several leagues if one isn't careful, especially considering that we're likely still a fair way away from Calradia. I don't doubt that we're unlikely to end up back in Zendar, but I don't want an error to put us into Nordic lands. We don't have enough food for that.
The other unfortunate side effect of last night's storm was that one of the sails was damaged, and had to be taken down for repairs. The man who did this was a sailor by the name of Nestio, who informed me that our pace is going to be slowed, but since it wasn't the mainsail that was damaged, we can continue while he repairs it. During some free time, I watched him stitch the sail and noted that it's not too different from tailoring, which he laughed and agreed about. Since there was little else to do at the time, I asked him why he had decided to come on this journey himself.
Nestio actually came aboard with a close friend of his, our shipwright Mercius. The two of them had moved to Zendar when it first experienced it revitalization some years ago, believing that they would be able to find their fortunes in the new city, since it was teeming with immigrants and bursting with potential. The two grew up in the same small village outside of Jelkala, and had been friends since childhood, so traveling to Zendar together wasn't too much of a stretch. Nestio had come from a family of tailors, while Mercius was a carpenter by trade, so finding work in the city wasn't difficult, since they both had marketable skills. They rented a small apartment together and spent roughly a decade together, Nestio in a clothing shop and Mercius taking odd jobs around the city. Mercius married and had a daughter during this time, while Nestio was blessed with twin sons, so soon there were seven people all living together in the tiny apartment. As trade flourished, however, the two men realized that the true demand was in ships and everything having to do with them, so they learned shipbuilding and sailmaking as a means to exploit their already-honed skillsets. The jobs paid more than their apprenticeships did, and they were able to afford separate apartments across from each other. However, they found that their families were starting to demand better housing, and the jobs they had simply weren't lucrative enough to provide it. Thus, when Santiagon posted his request for skilled sailors, the pair were among the first to jump at the chance.
Naturally, they intend to use their spoils to buy separate houses, but I suspect that they'll remain close, especially after the events this voyage. I've made lifelong friends with people I didn't even know, so I can only imagine how strong their bond is now; they must be like brothers at this point. It's fortunate that they didn't lose their friendship in the drama of Ferdinand's mutiny, too. If anything could have torn them apart, it was that. Of course, I'm also glad that we didn't lose two of the most important artisans on this ship in the fighting afterwards either. If they hadn't been aboard, it's possible we would still be in the New World, stranded with no means of getting home. I shudder to think how many times we could have been lost in that savage land. It makes me all the more grateful that this voyage is finally coming to an end.
August 3, 1420
When I went down to the galley, I noticed that the plate that I was given was far skimpier than usual. A few kernels of maize, a crust of stale bread, and a half an onion were all that composed my meal. When I asked this, the galley cook, Sargio, replied that a batch of weevils had somehow destroyed an entire barrel of food, meaning that now we were on short rations, especially since much of it had, predictably, rotted in the time it's taken us to sail across the ocean. At this, I scowled down at the food and wondered how long this had been going on, and whether or not I had been chewing on bugs for the last several leagues without knowing it. Still, I downed the food without trying to think about it and washed it down with a glass of ale before noticing that the galley was more or less empty. I have a tendency to eat at strange times, after all, usually an hour later than everyone else. So at the moment it was just me and Sargio in the galley.
Seeing as there was nothing else to do at the moment, as all the posts were filled and I'd recently plotted our most recent position, I asked if Sargio had a set of dice we could play with. He did, and we struck up a game. I quickly realized that he far outclassed me in terms of skill in the game, and was grateful that we were playing for sport, not profit. When I mentioned this, he pointed out that not only did the men tend to play in the galley in between meals, but that he'd seen this game played for ages before ever setting foot on the ship. I asked him to elaborate, which he was happy to do.
As it turned out, Sargio ran a roadside tavern back in Rhodoks called the Miss Grenta Inn. It had been in his family for at least two generations, passed down to him from his father. It was a sort of combination of a small farm and inn, since the wine that they served was grown from Velucan grapes they grew in their own garden, rather than imported from another city. It was a small inn, with most of the patrons being forced to sleep in the common area around the fire and only the top-most rooms available to those who paid extra. Meals were often skimpy, as the most common one was porridge or fresh-baked bread. Simple fare that would fill one up despite the fact that it was relatively bland. And their wine was good, according to Sargio.
I asked him why he decided to come on this trip, then, if he had it so good back at the inn. He replied that this was a good opportunity to allow his son a chance to run the inn while he was away, under the close supervision of his mother. If he was there, he would have a tendency to try and run everything himself. This was an opportunity to see if his son was ready to take over the business, since his own hair was starting to turn grey and he'd put on more weight recently. However, this didn't answer the question as to why he went on the trip in the first place. It was here that he grinned and replied that Santiagon had been a frequent guest of his when he was a merchant, and the two became friends over the years. When he mentioned setting sail for the New World, Sargio was actually the first to volunteer, saying that he'd need someone to cook if he wanted to keep his crew alive and happy. And with his son running the inn, he knew his family was secure, even if he happened to perish on the voyage.
He also noted that he didn't have any particular plans for the wealth we had accumulated on the trip, save as security. Perhaps to fix up the inn's leaky roof, but other than that, there was nothing he had any real desire to spend the money on. His family was secure and he'd had one last adventure. That was enough to satisfy him. I thought this was a curious, and yet somehow extremely wise answer. Thanking him, I rolled the dice one last time, came up short against his roll, and called it quits before I embarrassed myself further. After all, if I've learned anything on this voyage, it's not to tempt luck. We're going to need all of it that we can get for this last leg of the journey after all, since I'm still unsure how far from Calradia we are.
June 26, 1420
June 26, 1420
My diary entries are becoming more and more spread out, I notice, as I have less and less time to focus on writing due to my navigational duties. But I do seem to have at least a little time this evening while I'm eating dinner - fresh fish caught by the men over the side of the ship along with boiled maize and fresh fruit. It's the best dinner that we've eaten in days. However, I find that I'm increasingly yearning for the native food of Calradia. Boar rather than elik roasts, bread instead of maize, the crisper and less tangy fruits of my homeland. Proper wine would be a welcome change as well, even watered down as it usually is. But I'm not complaining that we don't have food. For the moment, we're very well-stocked, and I pray that it will be enough when we reach the proper ocean, which is drawing nearer with each passing day.
We've continued our travels to the northeast, relying on beating to travel against the prevailing winds. This technique enables us to at least travel slowly, but as it's impossible to sail completely against the wind, we're having to take it in stride, keeping a close eye on the wind and using it to propel ourselves as far as possible. It's also made my navigation erratic and difficult, but I've been able to keep up with it thanks to Basim double-checking my work.
Fortunately, our bearing and position has not been very difficult to keep track of. We've been sailing along the northwestern coast of Samand for the last couple of days, keeping the shore to our right to ease the difficulty of realizing our position. I suspect that even though this is taking more time, it's also so that Basim can allow me more practice with my navigational techniques, using landmarks as clear bearings to understand where we are. He's been having me check our position without looking outside, and then taking me outside to ensure that we're still on course based on visual cues. At first I struggled, but I've become gradually more accurate. Though I have yet to make pinpoint readings to the level of proficiency Basim displays, I can at least now more or less keep us on course throughout the course of the day. The main enemy I face is fatigue, when my concentration begins slipping towards the end of the day as I grow tired and hungry. However, even this is fading as I've grown used to the long hours spent navigating.
The other advantage keeping to the shoreline grants us is access to fresh food. We've sent scouts along the treeline occasionally during our drifting pace to catch fish that swim close to shore or fruits from nearby, low-hanging branches. Twice we were spotted by one of the native tribes, but warning shots from our cannons steered them away from the men. They were unloaded, but the sheer noise and spectacle of the cannons firing was more than enough to deter the would-be attackers. Soon, however, we'll have to make a decision. I suspect Basim will want to start moving in a more northerly direction, in an attempt to catch his theoretical trade winds and hopefully help us sail our way back home. Until then, I'm enjoying the leisurely pace and the pleasant scenery. The weather has been calm as well, without a storm in sight. It seems a rare moment of peace before the real work begins.
July 3, 1420
For the past few days, we'd been sailing along the southern coast of an island that we hadn't encountered yet before reaching open ocean again. At first, I thought it might be Fjoror, the island where Aeric the Navigator landed and first discovered the New World. However, my theory was proven incorrect earlier this morning when we reached the coast of a new island even further to the east. This island actually matches the description of Aeric's island better based on what he wrote in his own journals, though the previous island also seemed to be a worthy candidate, so my confusion is natural. Upon looking over the maps, Basim decided that the island that we discovered before was a new island that we simply didn't bother exploring very much. He gave it the name of Eztes, a name that in the Sarranid language simply means "east." It's a fitting name, as it's served as a guidepost for what we considered was the easternmost island until Fjoror was rediscovered.
We anchored on the southern coast of Fjoror, which I sincerely believe will the our last stop before we depart for Calradia. It's a little ironic in my eyes. What was the first place ever discovered in the New World will, for us, be our last bit of land for several weeks, if my calculations are correct. Naturally, since this was our final stop, we decided to spend a couple of days taking the risk of exploring the jungle so that we could secure enough food for a possible return trip. Most of our cargo space is now being taken up with food and water, and even then I can only hope that it'll be enough. Much of our food consists of dried maize, dried fruit, dried meat, salted fish, and the remnants of the hard bread what we brought with us in the first place. Hopefully we'll be able to supplement our diet with a little fish on the way, but catching fish at sea is a difficult task at best. We shall see.
I actually did take this opportunity to go ashore for a change, accompanied by a couple of men, to see if I couldn't at least find the remnants of the village that Aeric claims that he raided. We traveled through the jungle for most of the day, and while Fjoror is one of the smallest islands we've ever visited, the mass was still substantial enough to keep us from penetrating very far into it before we had to turn back to shore. We found no evidence of a village, but that neither confirms nor refutes Aeric's claims. For one, a typical village is made of wood and reeds, the sort of things that could be easily burned in a raid and reclaimed by a jungle afterwards. There's also the fact that we anchored on the southern end of the island and did not go very far, while Aeric would have likely landed on the northern coast if he was coming from Calradia. We also didn't encounter any natives on the island (thankfully), but whether this means that Aeric killed all the inhabitants or if we simply didn't see any, I will never know. Nevertheless, it was a fruitless trip, and none of my questions were answered, but such is the nature of academic study sometimes.
I did return to the ship feeling somewhat refreshed. Perhaps it was the chance to stretch my legs after being aboard the ship for so long. Perhaps it was being able to explore one last time for the sake of study, even if nothing was found, and not having to truly fear for my life during the expedition. Perhaps it was even a bit of nostalgia for when we first arrived on the island. It was certainly an interesting look back. When I first arrived, I was fresh with ideas and misconceptions about the New World, a wholly alien environment untouched and unexplored by man. Now much of the mystique is gone, and I'm certainly not the man I was when I first arrived. All in all, despite all the hardships, I certainly don't regret coming on this voyage. But I would be lying if I didn't say that I wasn't eager to finally be returning home.
July 5, 1420
We finally left the New World behind and headed out into the open ocean. We're completely stocked on food, with enough to hopefully last us a few months, though I doubt we'll ever develop a major taste for the food. The cook, Eran, has found a way to grind up maize with a mortar and pestle and bake it in a way similar to bread so that it stays fresh longer. These hard crackers aren't particularly appetizing, but neither is hard tack made from wheat. My only real complaint is that the seeds tend to scratch my throat on the way down, so I've been drinking a fair bit more grog than I would have when I first started on this journey. It's not as though we seriously have to ration it, either; harsh as it sounds, one of the few good things about having a smaller crew is that there's less need to fight for one's dinner, though Basim still wants us to ration our meals in case something unforeseen happens. I can sympathize, but it's also a relief to know that the consequences likely won't be as dire.
When we started out into the ocean, everything seemed to slow down for some reason. Perhaps it's the sheer scope of what lies before us, or perhaps it's the fact that we no longer have to fear reefs and sandbars, but there's a general sense of calm, even lethargy among the crew. It could also be weariness after so many adventures, or the fact that we can simply point the ship more or less in one direction and keep it there with few deviations. All I have to do at the moment is take morning and evening readings along with intermittent smaller readings throughout the day, which is a welcome change from the much more difficult navigation I had to perform when in the New World. The only problem is that the going is slow. The wind is strong, but it's blowing in a direction that the ship is hard-pressed to sail against, so it's a good thing that we have so much food to last us.
The other problem has become fighting off boredom. I've taken to playing with some of the men in their card and dice games, though I never play if stakes are wagered. After all, I've had my fair share of testing my luck in the New World; I don't need to do it here. Among the wagers of the men are rations of grog, small shares of treasure (which we are fully laden with, and every man is likely to have a small fortune if we sell it anyways), and some of the strange dried leaves that the natives gave us. I haven't gone into these much previously because I don't partake in the practice, but the natives have a plant that they call topako, which they stuff into pipes and light ablaze before inhaling the smoke. It releases a sweet, earthy smell and I'm told that it leaves one with a pleasant floating feeling. Personally, though, I've also seen some of the men coughing afterwards, and fear that it might do damage to my lungs. The only thing I intend to inhale is pure air, and it also makes it easier to decline placing bets on the games of chance when I don't even have a share of the topako to wager in the first place. Funnily enough, because I'm not risking my health, I'm sure my father would be proud.
July 9, 1420
It's been an interesting night. I've fallen into a routine of taking measurements of the stars about an hour before sunrise and two hours after sunset, when the stars are at their brightest, so I can approximately gauge our location based on their position. As I was taking the evening reading, I was surprised when Basim came up and stood beside me. It was then that I noticed he had extinguished the lamps on the deck, leaving us in darkness, and he stood beside me with his hands folded behind his back. He didn't say anything, but merely stared up at the stars for a long while. Just when I was starting to wonder whether or not he wanted me to say something or just head inside, he spoke up, mentioning that this was the first time in a long time that he'd been able to see the stars clearly, rather than through the canopy of a jungle or on a ship with the lights on. There was something comforting, he said, about being able to see every star in the night sky. It was something that reminded him of his home.
When I asked him if he meant the Sarranid desert, he smiled lightly and then asked if I'd like to join him for a drink. Motioning for me to follow, he led me back into the captain's cabin. It was dimly lit, and over the last few weeks he had rearranged a few things, but it was still the same general layout that Santiagon had used when he was captain. Basim motioned for me to take a seat in front of his desk before pulling out a decanter filled with a deep red liquid, which he poured into a pair of glasses. After sampling it, I realized that it was a spiced red wine, a variety that I'd never had before. When I mentioned this, Basim grinned and replied that it was actually a rare vintage that had been made by Rhodoks vinters and flavored with Sarranid spices. It had been made to commemorate the end of the war between the Sarranids and Rhodoks, and it was also a symbol of his friendship with Santiagon.
We sat in silence for a little while, enjoying the wine, before Basim asked me why I had decided to join the expedition in the first place, since it seemed like an odd choice for a scholar. I told him my reasons, from my desire to marry Kivana to my father refusing me funds and the fact that this was likely the only chance I would have to make a career out of a degree in history and the humanities. Basim listened in fascination, and when I finished, he was silent for a long while before he admitted that he didn't think he'd have the same courage that I had if he was in my situation. I don't think of it as courage so much as desperation, but I wasn't about to correct him. I then asked him what his own story was, why he'd decided to join Santiagon. I knew it had to do with their mutual respect for each other, but I was still curious what his story was. Basim obliged me by sating my curiosity.
He was born forty-one years ago as the second son of his father's second wife. In the Sarranid Sultanate, men are permitted to take multiple wives so long as they can prove that they will love each one equally. His father was an astronomer and a courtier for the Sultan, so Basim was always well-off. From a young age, his father taught him how to read the stars, as well as how to apply them to Sarranid theories of mathematics, geometry, and navigation, all of which are generally more advanced than most of the other countries in Calradia (though Swadia will never admit it). At night was the only time that the desert was cool, and Basim used to love spending hours basking in the darkness, learning the stars and constellations while spending time with his father. The two developed a strong bond, which is apparently rare for children so far removed from their father's legacy, with primogeniture in place even in the Sarranid Sultanate. Basim was all set to become an astronomer in his own right, and he was groomed for it from a young age until he reached the age of twenty-one. Then his father ordered him to make his own way in the world.
Basim responded by signing aboard a military vessel as a navigator, a fairly prestigious position and one that his father accepted. It wasn't enough to bring significant prestige to his line, but it also didn't bother his father, so the arrangement was satisfactory. At the age of twenty-two his marriage to a magistrate's daughter was arranged, and the two had a pair of sons who are now slightly younger than I am. Basim spent much of his time touring along the coast of the Sultanate and Rhodoks, serving as a pirate hunter of sorts. He was a senior officer when the war with Rhodoks broke out, and it was here that he and Santiagon fought and developed mutual respect for each other. After the war, he realized that all he knew was sailing, and since the war was over and the waters calm again, there was little to do as a pirate hunter. His sons were also grown and trying to make their own way in the world, so there was nothing holding him back from having an adventure with his former adversary, which is how he signed on for the voyage. And in spite of everything, he still doesn't regret it.
When he finished his story, our wine glasses had been refilled twice, and my head was swimming slightly; clearly, this wine was not watered down. I asked him if he intended to retire after this, since the wealth we had was more than enough to ensure that he would live comfortably for the rest of his life, even if his father hadn't been so high up in the aristocracy. Basim replied that he might, but that he would be loath to stop adventuring. That was why he had come on this trip in the first place, for the excitement of discovering what lay beyond the horizon. So he might retire, but he doubted it. He felt he still had one or two adventures left in him. He then mentioned that it was getting late and that we both had to be up again in a few hours, so he ushered me out of his office and told me to get some sleep. But despite how late I went to bed and the buzzing in the back of my mind due to the alcohol, I don't regret having stayed up to speak with him. Hearing his story has been one of the few things of note lately that has cut through the boredom of sailing on the open sea. It's why I have such large gaps in my journal nowadays. Perhaps I should speak with the other crew members and jot down their stories as well. We've sailed together for so long, and yet I barely know them. This needs to be rectified.
July 14, 1420
Stormclouds are on the horizon. And I wish that I was using that as a metaphor instead of a statement of fact. Fortunately, it doesn't seem to be a major storm, but we can see the flashes of lightning and hear the rumbles of thunder from here. It's why I'm taking a moment to collect my thoughts before we have to go out on deck and deal with the mess we're sailing into. Of course, it's not as though we can avoid it. In fact, Basim seems intent on sailing towards it, though God only knows why. He doesn't seem the type to try commit suicide at this rate, and certainly not with our lives in his hands. Personally, I'm less worried about the ship sinking, and more about how this is going to throw off my calculations. Basim promised that he would help me look them over once he was done, but I can understand why he's more focused on getting us through the coming storm, so I'm not going to bother him. The best I can hope to do is keep track of which way the wind is blowing and try and correct as best I can for how far we get blown off-course.
At the moment, aside from writing, I'm killing time by watching a dice game between two of the other sailors, Calen and Tabor. The two of them never really spoke before Ferdinand's insurrection, but after most of the crew died, they spent more time hanging around each other, and seem to have become pretty good friends in the process. Neither one is particularly skilled at any one task, but they both make solid sailors and attend to whatever tasks need to be done around here. To kill some time, I decided to ask them how they ended up aboard the ship with the rest of us.
Calen is one of the younger members of the crew, only in his mid-twenties, and he has yet to settle down with a family. He was the third son of four in a farming family, and naturally he was given a raw deal from the moment that he was born. Of course he spent time learning how to farm and working in the fields, but there was no chance that he was going to inherit the land once his parents passed on, not with two brothers ahead of him. What's worse is that he knew he didn't have the intelligence to be a monk, since he still has trouble reading and writing, and I doubt he would have the patience for it either, so even that avenue was cut off to him (though I could tell him that he would do just fine as a lay person, but seeing as his arms are as thick as my chest, I thought it wiser not to speak up). He went to Jelkala looking for work, and was fortunate enough to stumble across Santiagon when he was recruiting sailors. Though he didn't have any sailing experience, he figured that the pay was good enough that he signed on. The promise of additional treasure was just a bonus. When I asked him what he intended to do with his share of the money, he replied simply that he was going to buy some land in one of Rhodoks' valleys and try to use the rest to entice some village girl into joining him on his new farm. Because that's what true love is all about: bribery.
Tabor's story is more tragic. He's in his late thirties, but looks as though he's at least a decade older than that. Like Calen, he was a farmer by birth, but he was the only one of his parent's male children to survive (his two sisters were later married off to other men in Rhodoks). However, at the age of sixteen, his father died, leaving him as the owner of the farm. He married a plain-looking girl, but she cooked well and they got along fine, even having a child of their own. For about twenty years, life wasn't bad, until a fire started in their barn. It had been a dry summer and the fire quickly spread to the farmhouse. While Tabor was trying to put out the blaze in the barn, he didn't realize that it had spread to his family's house until he heard it collapse behind him. His wife and children were still inside. Their deaths crushed him, and worse, he didn't have the money to rebuild the farm. Left with no other options, he went to Jelkala, and like Calen, saw that Santiagon was looking for sailors. For Tabor, though, the journey was about getting away from Calradia. With his share of the treasure, he intends to simply buy a cottage by the sea and just forget.
It took me over an hour for him to divulge his story, and only after he and Calen were rather drunk. I can't blame him either. I've never thought of my life as particularly hard, but the problems that I've faced are paltry compared with what others have experienced. When I mentioned this to Tabor, though, he smiled wearily and pointed out that we've all been through the same hardships during out trip to the New World. Whatever our pasts before then, we're all equal now, since we've all faced the same terrors. He has a point. But never again will I complain about my lot in life when not only have I experienced worse, but I also now know that there are some who have it even worse still. Instead, I should be eternally grateful for what I have.
July 17, 1420
The storm lasted two days, and unfortunately during that time, we were worn down and exhausted thanks to the constant rain. The winds weren't particularly powerful, so it wasn't as though we were caught in a hurricane, but the rain rarely let up and the winds were erratic, making it difficult to stay on course. In particular it was difficult for me to keep an exact heading, and it's not as though I could ask Basim where we were going. He told the helmsman and I to keep us pointed as north as we could, which was a difficult task with the ship rocking back and forth so much that the compass refused to cooperate. I feel even worse for the men who were up on deck for most of it, though. Storms were difficult enough to deal with when we had a full crew; here, with about a third of the men we started with, it was nearly impossible. Somehow we managed to pull through, and Basim ordered a day of relative rest at sea for us so we could recover our strength.
Based on my calculations, we were blown further northwest, putting us even further out into open ocean and away from Calradia. On the one hand, we did make some progress, since it's not as though we were sailing directly back to the New World. But this will put us back a few days at least, prolonging our trip. Worse, some of the seawater got into our food supplies, turning it soggy. It was mostly maize, so we simply boiled that and turned it into a feast, but the fact that we're losing rations this early into the voyage could be deadly. Starving at sea is not a fate that anyone particularly wishes to experience. Our water supplies, thankfully, were untouched, and even bolstered by the rainwater, so the situation is not as dire as it could be.
After the storm let up earlier this morning, I stepped out on deck and was greeted with an absolutely gorgeous sight. The sun was partially risen, and the eastern sky was bathed in fiery gold. To the west were the remnants of the storm, the clouds illuminated by the morning sun, so gold and silver competed for dominance in sky. The sea was rolling under the remnants of the light rain that was still falling, a dark grey color like molten lead, giving the angelic sky a foil by appearing much more dangerous and foreboding. Most beautiful of all, in the light of the morning sky I caught sight of a double rainbow piercing through the heavens to the north, while crystalline drops of rain still fell softly on the deck of the ship. The spectacle left me breathless, and as I stood there, I noticed a breath of wind rush across my face. Checking the direction, I realized that it was blowing east. This more than anything else made my heart swell with joy, and I cried out loudly enough to startle the skeleton crew that was also on deck. Basim asked what the commotion was, and when I pointed out the direction of the wind, he too broke into a wide grin and let out a whooping cheer. It seems that despite the hardships we faced during the storm, it was a blessing in disguise as it pushed us into the belt of easterly winds. From now on I can only hope that it'll be smooth sailing all the way back home.
July 22, 1420
When dinner was served tonight, I noticed that it was accompanied by a slab of fresh fish, something that we hadn't had for quite some time. We're not short on rations yet, but after weeks of dried food, actual fresh meat was a delicacy that one who hasn't subsisted on such fare can scarcely imagine. I had been eating with Basim, and when I asked who it was who caught the fish, he pointed me over to a man sitting by the side of the ship, who was busy repairing the nets that we occasionally draped over the side of the ship in the vain hope of catching something. I recognized the man as Revir, a man in his twenties who was one of the standard sailors hired on by Santiagon. I went over and complimented his catch, but he waved it away, saying that it was unnecessary. According to him, it was just good to be doing something with his hands again. When I asked what he meant, he told me that it was a boring story, but I sat with him until he finally began to tell his tale.
He was the third of four brothers who had been born to a fisherman and his wife near the coast of Yalen. They lived a poor lifestyle with nothing more than a simple shack as their house and a worn-down vessel as their fishing boat. He recalled that the shack always reeked of fish and salt, but it was something that one grew used to over time. He knew how to wield a knife and scale a fish before he was able to speak in complete sentences, and he was sailing on his father's boat and helping to catch fish by the age of seven. He'd spent his entire life at sea, and he and his brothers traded posts with their father, so sometimes he would handle the jib, other times he would man the sails, and still others he would watch for fish to spear or net and bring them on board. Back on shore, they would behead, scale, gut, clean and salt the fish before transporting it to Yalen in exchange for a few measly florins that were barely enough to buy vegetables and replacement tools and nets when things broke down. Year after year, they barely scraped by, but while it was a hard life, it was also strangely satisfying.
However, everything changed when his parents grew old and died in the same year, leaving the four brothers alone with the boat. What's worse is that his eldest brother, Naro, wanted to marry a local girl and start a family of his own, which would leave the brothers with even fewer hands on deck. His second brother, Aster, managed to convince him to wait one more season so that they could get their affairs in order, but things turned even worse when a poor fishing season meant they had to sell the shack as well, leaving them with nothing but the boat and each other. Desperate, Revir decided that the only chance that he had was to sign on with a ship and try to make a little money so that they could scrape by for another season, and Santiagon was the only one hiring in the harbor at the time who needed experienced hands. Revir knew nothing about the journey to the New World when he first signed on. All he knew was that there was paying work, and that this way he could help save his family.
When he finished, I slyly asked him if he felt he'd been compensated enough on this journey, and he burst out laughing. He then commented that with the money we had gathered, he had more than enough to buy a new ship, a house for his brothers, and even enough to start his own small fishing company if he wanted. Having finished my meal, I pushed myself up and thanked him, but them paused and asked him what kind of fish I had just consumed. Revir grinned at me and replied that he had no idea; it was a new species of fish that he had never seen before, a sort of giant blue-skinned herring that had been travelling in a school near our ship. I pondered this statement for a few moments before grinning at the sheer insanity of it. The fish was only the latest in a series of exotic foods no Calradian before us had ever sampled. No one can say that we aren't getting our fill of new experiences on this voyage.
July 28, 1420
Another major storm hit last night, so it was another long night of trying to keep the ship on course, though thankfully with the prevailing easterly winds, it was less difficult, since all we've had to do is sail with the breeze. However, the storm did throw us off-course slightly, and I've been having to correct it by myself since Basim came down with a fever two days ago. It doesn't look like the same thing that afflicted Khaden, but I treated it with some tea and lemon and ordered bedrest anyways. His fever broke, but he's still feeling weak. In the interim, I've been steering the ship as best I can, but I fear I may have put us further off-course. How much more, I don't know, but a tiny error can result in a disparity of several leagues if one isn't careful, especially considering that we're likely still a fair way away from Calradia. I don't doubt that we're unlikely to end up back in Zendar, but I don't want an error to put us into Nordic lands. We don't have enough food for that.
The other unfortunate side effect of last night's storm was that one of the sails was damaged, and had to be taken down for repairs. The man who did this was a sailor by the name of Nestio, who informed me that our pace is going to be slowed, but since it wasn't the mainsail that was damaged, we can continue while he repairs it. During some free time, I watched him stitch the sail and noted that it's not too different from tailoring, which he laughed and agreed about. Since there was little else to do at the time, I asked him why he had decided to come on this journey himself.
Nestio actually came aboard with a close friend of his, our shipwright Mercius. The two of them had moved to Zendar when it first experienced it revitalization some years ago, believing that they would be able to find their fortunes in the new city, since it was teeming with immigrants and bursting with potential. The two grew up in the same small village outside of Jelkala, and had been friends since childhood, so traveling to Zendar together wasn't too much of a stretch. Nestio had come from a family of tailors, while Mercius was a carpenter by trade, so finding work in the city wasn't difficult, since they both had marketable skills. They rented a small apartment together and spent roughly a decade together, Nestio in a clothing shop and Mercius taking odd jobs around the city. Mercius married and had a daughter during this time, while Nestio was blessed with twin sons, so soon there were seven people all living together in the tiny apartment. As trade flourished, however, the two men realized that the true demand was in ships and everything having to do with them, so they learned shipbuilding and sailmaking as a means to exploit their already-honed skillsets. The jobs paid more than their apprenticeships did, and they were able to afford separate apartments across from each other. However, they found that their families were starting to demand better housing, and the jobs they had simply weren't lucrative enough to provide it. Thus, when Santiagon posted his request for skilled sailors, the pair were among the first to jump at the chance.
Naturally, they intend to use their spoils to buy separate houses, but I suspect that they'll remain close, especially after the events this voyage. I've made lifelong friends with people I didn't even know, so I can only imagine how strong their bond is now; they must be like brothers at this point. It's fortunate that they didn't lose their friendship in the drama of Ferdinand's mutiny, too. If anything could have torn them apart, it was that. Of course, I'm also glad that we didn't lose two of the most important artisans on this ship in the fighting afterwards either. If they hadn't been aboard, it's possible we would still be in the New World, stranded with no means of getting home. I shudder to think how many times we could have been lost in that savage land. It makes me all the more grateful that this voyage is finally coming to an end.
August 3, 1420
When I went down to the galley, I noticed that the plate that I was given was far skimpier than usual. A few kernels of maize, a crust of stale bread, and a half an onion were all that composed my meal. When I asked this, the galley cook, Sargio, replied that a batch of weevils had somehow destroyed an entire barrel of food, meaning that now we were on short rations, especially since much of it had, predictably, rotted in the time it's taken us to sail across the ocean. At this, I scowled down at the food and wondered how long this had been going on, and whether or not I had been chewing on bugs for the last several leagues without knowing it. Still, I downed the food without trying to think about it and washed it down with a glass of ale before noticing that the galley was more or less empty. I have a tendency to eat at strange times, after all, usually an hour later than everyone else. So at the moment it was just me and Sargio in the galley.
Seeing as there was nothing else to do at the moment, as all the posts were filled and I'd recently plotted our most recent position, I asked if Sargio had a set of dice we could play with. He did, and we struck up a game. I quickly realized that he far outclassed me in terms of skill in the game, and was grateful that we were playing for sport, not profit. When I mentioned this, he pointed out that not only did the men tend to play in the galley in between meals, but that he'd seen this game played for ages before ever setting foot on the ship. I asked him to elaborate, which he was happy to do.
As it turned out, Sargio ran a roadside tavern back in Rhodoks called the Miss Grenta Inn. It had been in his family for at least two generations, passed down to him from his father. It was a sort of combination of a small farm and inn, since the wine that they served was grown from Velucan grapes they grew in their own garden, rather than imported from another city. It was a small inn, with most of the patrons being forced to sleep in the common area around the fire and only the top-most rooms available to those who paid extra. Meals were often skimpy, as the most common one was porridge or fresh-baked bread. Simple fare that would fill one up despite the fact that it was relatively bland. And their wine was good, according to Sargio.
I asked him why he decided to come on this trip, then, if he had it so good back at the inn. He replied that this was a good opportunity to allow his son a chance to run the inn while he was away, under the close supervision of his mother. If he was there, he would have a tendency to try and run everything himself. This was an opportunity to see if his son was ready to take over the business, since his own hair was starting to turn grey and he'd put on more weight recently. However, this didn't answer the question as to why he went on the trip in the first place. It was here that he grinned and replied that Santiagon had been a frequent guest of his when he was a merchant, and the two became friends over the years. When he mentioned setting sail for the New World, Sargio was actually the first to volunteer, saying that he'd need someone to cook if he wanted to keep his crew alive and happy. And with his son running the inn, he knew his family was secure, even if he happened to perish on the voyage.
He also noted that he didn't have any particular plans for the wealth we had accumulated on the trip, save as security. Perhaps to fix up the inn's leaky roof, but other than that, there was nothing he had any real desire to spend the money on. His family was secure and he'd had one last adventure. That was enough to satisfy him. I thought this was a curious, and yet somehow extremely wise answer. Thanking him, I rolled the dice one last time, came up short against his roll, and called it quits before I embarrassed myself further. After all, if I've learned anything on this voyage, it's not to tempt luck. We're going to need all of it that we can get for this last leg of the journey after all, since I'm still unsure how far from Calradia we are.
Blackwater
Veteran
New part is up, along with a new post!
Blackwater
Veteran
Woo! Over ten thousand views before we even begin the trip back to Calradia! Thank you all so much for your support over the past several months! I hope you've been having as much fun as I have!
Also, a new post is up.
Also, a new post is up.
Blackwater
Veteran
Alright, sorry for the long waits in between posts, since I've been floundering for topics with which to kill time on this return voyage, but I think I've found a way to do it, so hopefully the posts will become more frequent. In the meantime, enjoy this new one!
Blackwater
Veteran
What? A new update that didn't take a week?!
Blackwater
Veteran
Thar we go, new post. Carry on.
Keep up the good work 
!
!Blackwater
Veteran
Shall do! Updated!
Blackwater
Veteran
And a new post. Enjoy.
Blackwater
Veteran
One more for good measure. Voila.
Blackwater
Veteran
Updated. That's the last backstory segment, I swear.
Blackwater
Veteran
Part XI
August 8, 1420
Basim called me into the captain's quarters earlier today, and I could tell from the tone of his voice when he called me inside that something had gone wrong. As I took a seat, he pointed to the map before him, and I instantly felt the color drain from my face. Somewhere along the way, I knew I had made a mistake. As I began frantically looking for what had went wrong, he waved me off and commented that we were further north than he had intended us, that we weren't traveling east at a sharp enough degree for his liking. When I asked him if this meant that we were no longer in range of Calradia, he shook his head and replied that we hadn't sailed THAT far north. We had to correct our course and take a more eastern route. He was, however, angry that we had cost ourselves more time than was necessary. By his calculations, we're now going to have to spend an extra week at sea thanks to my error. When I tried to apologize, he merely replied that he was partially to blame as well, since he had not been checking my work as carefully, especially after he took ill a little while ago. However, he also made a point that he was going to be checking my navigation much more carefully from now on, before shooing me out the door.
What's most unfortunate about this is that morale has been slipping lately. The men have been running on sheer force of will ever since we hit open ocean, knowing that with a vastly weakened crew, we've all had to work twice as hard simply to stay alive. That knowledge has allowed us to work shifts that a normal crew would find grueling at best, and nearly impossible in the worst of conditions. However, with the food starting to spoil (much of our supply was fresh from the New World, meaning that most of it has rotted away, and the non-perishable items are dwindling quickly) and the labor taking its toll on our bodies, nerves are starting to fray. No fights have broken out yet - we all realize that all that would be doing would be expending energy that we simply don't have right now - but there's a tension lingering in the air that hasn't been there since Ferdinand's mutiny.
It's for this reason that I've kept carefully silent about the fact that we've spent longer at sea than we need to. If word gets out that I'm to blame... I don't want to have to worry about sleeping at night when I can barely sleep as it is, with my workload as heavy as it's been. However, some of the men have been grumbling that they feel as though this is taking even longer than the trip to the New World was, and it's even worse because how hard can it be to miss an entire continent? From experience, apparently it's quite easy. Still, I also wonder where we'll end up. According to Basim, we're too far north to land in Zendar now, as originally intended, but he doesn't think we'll wind up in the Nordic lands, or even in Swadia. His best guess is to try and land us somewhere near Yalen, where we'll be able to put into port and rest there before heading our separate ways. Not exactly the intended end to our journey, but it's certainly better than trying to land on an unoccupied beach somewhere in western Rhodoks.
August 12, 1420
Tempers are starting to flare. I was on deck taking measurements for my next calculation - with Basim standing over my shoulder to make sure that I was doing it right - when I heard a loud curse behind me and turned around to see Calen and Revir staring each other down. Apparently, they had been shooting dice when Calen claimed he had won a round. One of the dice had been knocked on its side by a rolling wave, and it wasn't clear if it had already stopped moving or not when it rolled over onto another number, losing him the set and his wager. When he tried to protest this, Revir refused to back down, and the two seemed to be about ready to come to blows right there in the middle of the deck, with the rest of us present watching as the tension began to brew between the pair of them.
Basim stepped up and told the two to stand down as they were glaring at each other, but Calen turned and shouted at Basim that he wasn't the captain and therefore he didn't have to take orders from him. The ship turned deathly quiet as Basim stalked towards him and growled that he was out of line, but Calen responded that he wasn't going to listen to some "ash-skinned sand-eater." Basim responded by ordering Revir and Tabor to grab Calen and tie him to the mast as he went into the captain's cabin. The two crewmen complied while Calen shouted about how unfair the situation was, but when he saw Basim re-emerge, his eyes widened. In his hand was a whip. With Calen tied down and unable to move, Basim administered ten lashes to the man. By the eighth, the man had stopped screaming and was slumped against the mast, passed out. He was untied and tossed unceremoniously to the deck while Basim ordered the men to get back to work.
However, ever since that incident, there has been a rolling undercurrent of tension and barely-contained fury among some of the men. The weather has only grown hotter for some reason even as we've traveled north, and the plates of food are getting worse and skimpier by the day. I'm worried that it's only a matter of time before the men try to stage a mutiny against Basim, though I feel that it would only be Calen and maybe one or two of the others. Most of us are just tired of this voyage and want to get home. So long as we can last that long without anyone doing anything rash - such as drawing swords - we can get through the rest of this journey and put the entire experience behind us. I only pray that it doesn't take very long, or tensions will boil over.
August 16, 1420
Tensions finally came to a head earlier today. It was mid-afternoon when our lunch was revealed to have been all but devoured by weevils that had managed to somehow get into our stores of maize and destroy it. As a result, we had to feast on rotten fruit, stale bread, and salted fish that had started to smell thanks to an improper curing process. Faced with all of this, it was Calen who snapped first and demanded that Sargio find him some better food. Sargio (clearly trying to keep his own temper in check) slowly explained that there was simply nothing left for us that wasn't going bad, at which point Calen exploded, screaming at him that this trip had been a living hell that had just gone from bad to worse over the last several days, and he demanded to know why Sargio couldn't simply keep food from spoiling. Sargio turned away at this point, not bothering to respond, but he froze - as did everyone else on the deck - when we heard the unmistakable ringing of a blade being drawn.
I saw Calen standing with a knife drawn as he shouted that he hadn't finished talking, and who was Sargio to walk away from him when he was still speaking? Sargio told him very calmly to put down the knife before he did something that he was going to regret, but at that point, Calen threw his plate at the chef. Sargio dodged this and began to back towards the door leading below decks, but at this point, Calen charged him. Before he could get within range, he had been tackled to the deck by Tabor and Revir, and I kicked the knife out of his hand before he could do any harm. It was then that Basim burst out of his quarters, demanding to know what was going on, and when he saw Calen being pinned to the deck, he quickly figured out that the man had been causing trouble again.
Sighing, he ordered Calen strung up and went to get his whip, with Calen thrashing about the entire time and screaming insults at everyone present. I was beginning to think that he had simply gone mad from the stress of the voyage, and frankly, I couldn't blame him. However, he still was to blame for his actions, and he had no business pulling a knife on Sargio, regardless of the circumstances. Basim re-emerged with the whip, but it was at that point that Calen screamed that Basim was a coward who had to have his crew do everything for him, and that he wouldn't dare fight Calen in a fair fight for fear he would lose. Basim seemed to stiffen at this, and I could see he was contemplating giving him his wish. The Sarranid's hand actually went to his scimitar, and the rest of us watched with bated breath as we wondered if he was actually going to duel Calen on the deck.
However, the moment of tension passed, and the man simply put down his whip and walked away. Over his shoulder, he told Tabor and Revir to put him in the brig, and that we all needed to calm down. It was then that Mercius claimed he had heard something. Everyone went still, straining to hear, and that was when I heard it as well - a faint cawing noise. Looking about, Basim was the first one to spot it with his telescope, and he let out a joyful cry. A seagull was flying a little ways to our starboard side. We hadn't seen any of the birds since we had left Calradia. Meaning... we were close. We instantly began celebrating, and even Calen was cut down, where he began weeping and apologizing for what he had nearly done. Some of the men began singing the Rhodoks anthem, while I instantly went for my diary to record everything that just transpired. Basim is standing over me with a bottle of wine he had produced from somewhere, and while I don't normally drink, I'll make an exception in this case. It's impossible to describe the whiplash one feels going from tense despair to unbridled joy. I won't endeavor to describe it; I'll simply enjoy it and wash it all down with alcohol.
August 20, 1420
The brief elation we felt at catching sight of the seagull was tempered somewhat when we realized that we still had yet to spot land, making us wonder how far out to sea we were. However, that all changed when we traveled for four days and didn't catch sight of land. We were growing impatient when a fishing vessel was spotted a ways away, and we decided to alter our course to make way for it to converse with those aboard. It took us three hours and put us well south of where we had been, but when we finally came within range of the vessel, it signaled us with a flag and we responded in turn, both sides indicating that they were friendly and we adding that we wished to speak with them. With piracy becoming an increasing problem along the coast, we could well have been lying, but it was unlikely. Pirates rarely attack small fishing vessels, so fortunately for them, there was little danger of them being attacked by us.
When we approached them, Basim stepped out on deck and both parties weighed anchor before the captains approached to talk. The captain of the fishing vessel was cordial to us in his greeting, but also naturally curious as to why we wanted to talk. Words cannot express how much of a relief it was being able to listen to a conversation without having to translate it. Basim responded by asking how far away from Calradia we were. The captain of the fishing boat responded with a raised eyebrow and asked how we could have gotten lost, but Basim replied that we were the Verdant Horizon, the vessel that had traveled to the New World months ago, and now we didn't have much of a bearing. When we told him this, the five fishermen aboard burst out laughing, with the captain explaining that we had been pronounced dead months ago, and that there was no way we could have been the sailors who left on that ill-fated journey. Basim simply responded by inviting them to look at the name printed on the side of the hull. The fishermen were shocked when they realized who we were, and they stared at us as though they were seeing ghosts or saints in the flesh. Perhaps both.
In any case, the captain of the fishing vessel stammered out that we were about four days out from Yalen and that if we headed a little ways southwest, we would reach the docks of the city by that point. Basim thanked them, and then told one of us to bring one of the treasure chests forward. He opened it and explained that this was from his cut of the treasure, before withdrawing five Acztaoc silver coins, which he tossed down to the men on the boat, who caught them and stammered out their thanks. Little surprise, too; that bit of treasure should feed each of them individually for about a week, since the coins are made of pure silver and impossibly rare in these parts. A few of the men grumbled about losing part of the treasure, but Basim reiterated that it was from his own personal cut before thanking the men again.
We raised anchor, but as we did, the fishermen did so as well, explaining that they were going to go ahead and inform the townspeople of our imminent arrival, so that we would have a proper welcome home. They were in a smaller, faster ship, so they will likely reach about a day ahead of us, but it's not as though any of us care. Calradia is so close that I can taste it, and the anticipation is so much that I cannot sleep. Hence why I decided to write, doing something productive rather than frittering away the late hours of the night. Of course I realize that it'll likely be weeks before I see Kivana again, but just returning to the homeland is more than enough to cause my heart to race and my soul to leap with joy. Soon. Very soon.
August 24, 1420
Landfall. At long last, once again, we have set foot on Calradian soil. Foreign though it may be, far from Swadia, and full of customs and culture that are still somewhat alien to me, I am once again standing in Calradia. And never has a patch of earth seemed sweeter.
Basim insisted on taking the helm for the last leg of our journey and would not permit me to navigate. Our proximity to Calradia likely gave him the burst of energy needed to guide us through the last of our trip, as he took many of the duties of running the ship upon himself. He rarely slept, and when he wasn't at the helm, he was in the captain's cabin ensuring that we were precisely on point to reach Yalen. The rest of the crew, myself included, were more than happy to just stay out of his way. We celebrated by eating the last of the food, which Sargio did his best to make palatable and baked it into an enormous pie for our last meal the day before we were set to arrive in Yalen. It was a sort of hodgepodge of fish, maize, bread, and the remnants of the dried vegetables, all thrown together with a thickened gravy he made. Despite the rot, it actually wasn't bad, and lifted our spirits for the next day.
It was Revir who spotted land first by mid-morning, making out the shape of the city on the plateau overlooking the sea. We let out cheers of joy, and a keg of rum was rolled out and cracked open, undiluted, for us to enjoy. It wasn't long before we were singing drunken songs on the deck of the ship while Basim steered. I don't remember much of the arrival into port, naturally, but I do recall several ships sailing by us, wishing us greetings and safe returns. As we drew closer, the rum wore off (for me at least, as I'd had very little and we opened the barrel about two hours before we even came within clear view of Calradia) and the rest of the trip was much clearer. The first thing I noticed besides the sight of land was the sound. A veritable symphony had been organized by this point and was blaring various songs as we sailed towards the docks. A massive crowd of people had gathered to welcome us home, and honestly, I was surprised that so many had chosen to believe the word of a few fishermen. Nevertheless, by early afternoon, we had once again reached home, and Basim was the first to step off of the ship, closely followed by the rest of us, and we were immediately swarmed by the populace.
Various questions were being shouted at us - where had we been, what had we seen, were the rumors of gold and silver true, what had happened to our captain, why was this Sarranid now in charge? The last two caught me by surprise, but I suppose that it's a point of national pride for the Rhodoks that it was their captain leading this voyage. Of course it was impossible for us to answer all at once, and it was only when a trumpet blared that some semblance of order was restored. The crowd parted and I was astonished to see a man in noble robes approaching us. Barone Gottlans, the ruler of Yalen, approached us through the crowd and immediately ordered his guards to protect us and the ship (the latter of which was because some people were trying to board it). He then heartily welcomed us back to Calradia and informed us that we were to be his personal guests in his manor that evening. A large feast was already being prepared for us, and he invited us to bring what we had procured in the New World to his castle, where we could protect it safely. We quickly agreed to this, and the chests were unloaded from the Horizon as he led us through the streets, still flanked by curious onlookers. Naturally, his first question was what had happened to Santiagon, and when Basim explained part of what had happened, he expressed regret, but also mentioned that it would be best if we told the full story over the meal. In the meantime, his servants would see to us.
Thus, when we arrived, we were given private rooms and all tended to by his staff. We were bathed, had our hair cut (I actually kept my hair fairly long and allowed them to trim my beard so that I retained a mustache and goatee, but nothing else), and were given new garments to wear made of silk and linen, which were more comfortable than any I had ever worn before. All the time, I caught enticing smells that made my stomach growl and by sunset I was yearning for proper Calradian fare. The barone presented us with a five-course meal, starting with a light salad, followed by a thick vegetable soup flavored with cracked pepper, a fish dish consisting of filleted white tuna and oysters, the main course of a massive wild boar glazed in honey and spices with roasted apples and sauteed green beans, and finally for dessert, honeycake stuffed with jam filling. All this was served with Rhodoks white and red wines, unwatered, so that by the end of the meal my stomach was stuffed and my head was spinning pleasantly. Throughout the meal, Basim regaled our host with tales of our adventures, starting with the storms we'd faced on the trip down, the various islands we had visited, the treasures found therein, the natives, the mutiny, our capture and Santiagon's execution, our discovery of the Acztaocs and the battles wer participated in, and finally our return home. Occasionally one of us would pipe up, and Basim actually turned to me fairly often to offer a scholar's opinion on the events that had transpired (though I said nothing that I have not already written here, so there is little point in giving an abridged version of my perspective). Throughout it all, the barone and his courtiers were enraptured by our saga, and at the end of it he mentioned that he was certain this tale would not remain private knowledge for long, and that the bards that had listened in would no doubt be trying to put it to song by morning.
We lingered over dinner for a long while as the barone tried to catch us up to current events. However, no major wars had broken out (though there were talks of the Nordic Union facing difficulties with pagan rebels), and while there was a sickness going around throughout the spring months, it could hardly be considered a plague. The crops had been doing relatively well, and the weather was a bit drier than usual, but overall unremarkable. All in all, it seems as though Calradia has been about as uneventful as one could hope for it to be. Once the barone had related these events for us, the sun had set and the torches in the main hall were lit. Because it was growing dim, he suggested that we head to bed, and in the morning we could take stock of what we had gathered. Basim heartily agreed, and we were shooed off to our various rooms. Despite my fatigue, though, I wanted to record these events in my faithful diary, my truest companion throughout my travels. It seems I will have need of it a bit longer, if a record of what's transpired is to be kept. I never thought it would become this indispensable to me, but neither did I think at the start of the year that I would return to my homeland as a living hero of sorts. And that is the sweetest prize of all - that I have indeed returned home safely, when so many others have not. Rest their souls.
August 25, 1420
When we awoke the next morning, we were informed that there had been two separate thievery attempts in the middle of the night. Both had been thwarted; one of the thieves had been captured and was currently sitting in the dungeons, while the other had been slain attempting to fight his way through the guards. We were told this over a breakfast of honeyed porridge with fruit and fresh bread. I'd never thought I would miss wheat products as much as I have, but I have no desire to eat maize again for a long time. Once we were finished with the excellent meal, the baronne set us up in the parlor where we waited for a few hours for his accountants to arrive so that they could take stock of the treasures we had gathered in the New World. In the meanwhile, I amused myself by browsing through the baronne's library, which he was more than happy to allow me to do. I was a quarter of the way through a comedic tale about three sisters trying to choose a husband when the last banker arrived and the sorting began.
As expected, the bulk of the wealth we had acquired was in the form of precious stones and metals in all forms, ranging from gold and silver ores to coins, polished precious and semi-precious stones, pieces of artwork carved out of gold and turquoise, sacrificial knives, blades of obsidian, fur-covered shields and armor, and jewelry incorporating all of these elements. These naturally were what piqued most of the accountants' interest, and I could tell some of them were taking great pleasure in simply running their hands through the wealth before them. Others, however, were more intrigued by some of the resources we had returned with. The topako leaves we had returned with, for example, interested them, as they wondered if they were some sort of food at first (similar to bay leaves) until I explained how the natives used them for medicinal purposes by smoking them. They thought this was a novel idea, but refrained from doing so in the baronne's parlor. They were also intrigued by some of the spices we had returned with, as nothing of the sort had ever been seen in Calradia. We had been lucky enough to store some seeds, so selling these would net us even more profit. The ivory we collected from some of the creatures was also marketed as a high-value item. The kotton that the natives had identified for us sparked less interest, though one man mentioned that he thought it might be a good, cheap substitute for silk if it was weaved properly.
The accounting lasted for most of the day, and while at first I was rather invested in the proceedings, I quickly lost interest when it came to tallying up the individual spoils, and I returned to my book after about an hour and a half. We did take a break for lunch, which was stuffed pheasant with a light salad. While we ate, the accountants asked us about the adventures themselves, and Basim spent most of his meal relating our adventures to them instead of eating. Thus we lingered for well over two hours over the meal before returning to work. It was late afternoon by the time the accountants were finished with their tally, and by this point I had finished the first book and had started on a second. This, however, I put down to pay attention to the value that the bankers placed on our loot. The final verdict stunned me.
According to their best estimates, based on rarity of the objects, condition, and potential future income, we had collected just shy of about two hundred thousand florins worth of goods. I felt my jaw drop at that figure, and even Basim's eyes were bulging. Even split nine ways, that was still over twenty thousand florins each, enough to buy two houses and still have enough coin left over to feed oneself comfortably for years. The men let out cheers of sheer joy, and I saw a few of them crying while the accountants laughed. Barone Gottlans broke out a bottle of good wine for us and toasted our success before inviting us to dinner. Unlike the feast from the night before, there were only three courses, but no one was complaining. The first dish was a thick beef stew, which was the first time some of the crew had ever tasted beef (I'd had it on two prior occasions at Praven University during a holiday). The main course consisted of freshly caught lobster tails with lemon butter, Sarranid rice, and steamed vegetables. For dessert, we dined on a fresh-baked berry pie and a light rose wine that had a pleasantly sweet flavor to it. Once this was finished, Baronne Gottleins announced that he would like to invite us to stay at his manor for a few more days while he arranged a tournament in our honor so that all the nobles of Rhodoks could greet us, and then he would arrange carriages with escorts to take us back to our home cities. At first I balked at the expenses that the baronne must be accruing, but then I realized that to him, it was worth it for the prestige of being the first to host the heroes of the New World. He was seeking to improve his own standing and impress his peers by showing them how competent he was despite his rank. Perhaps he was even bucking for an expansion to his fiefdom. God, may I never engage in the games of nobles.
Once the dishes were cleared, we lingered for a little while in the parlor, but it quickly became apparent that most of us were exhausted after the day's festivities, and I retired to my room soon after. Though I did finish up the second book I had been reading, I took a little time to burn some oil and write in this diary. I expect I'll be busy over the next few days as nobles trickle in, but I must admit, I'm rather looking forward to it. It's a fun change being doted on by people in power, even if I recognize that some of them might try to use me to their own ends. But as I said, so long as I stay out of the games that these nobles play, there's no harm in basking in the praise and prestige for a little while.
August 28, 1420
It's been a few days since we arrived back in Calradia, and I still haven't grown used to the fact that I and my shipmates are now famous. Obviously I wasn't going to stay cooped up in the manor while the tournament was being organized, so I spent a couple of days wandering the streets of Yalen. The Barone insisted on having a pair of armed guards accompany us everywhere, and after spending ten minutes in the streets, I was grateful. I was swarmed by people almost anywhere that I went, with them asking me questions about my adventures, requesting that I share meals with them, trying to touch me, to interact with me in some way. Five different women begged me to marry their daughters. Fortunately, the guards batted these people away, and while at first I was a little taken aback by the rough treatment of the peasants, I soon realized its necessity. Regardless, I've enjoyed my stay in the city. I spent an entire afternoon engrossed in an art gallery displaying the finest paintings of the last three hundred years. I'll admit this: While Swadia prides itself on its works of sculpture and architecture, Rhodoks' painters have skill that is unmatched in all of Calradia.
The tournament itself took place this morning, and was attended by all of the major personalities of Rhodoks, including every noble of note and even King Agostino himself. As expected, they were more than excited to meet us, and the same familiar questions surfaced. However, it was different in that one could still feel the level of respect that these men and women garnered. I found myself instinctively keeping my speech deferential even as I was relaying the details of the journey, which was something I had not bothered to do in any of my previous retellings. Barone Gottleins had assured us that he wanted us to speak with him as equals, but I did not get the same feeling from the other nobles. However, they were particularly impressed with my own etiquette, and I silently thanked my father and my education for teaching me how to react in social situations.
When the tournament began, we were seated in the king's box, where we were treated as the guests of honor. Throughout the tournament we were constantly offered refreshments - rich Rhodoks wine, cheese, hot bread, fruit, whatever we desired. I ate little, but I caught a few of the others gorging themselves on what was offered, to the point where one of the nobles laughed and assured them that lunch would be served. In the tournament itself, the first event was the archery competition of both longbows and crossbows. This was followed by horseback races around the track, reminiscent of the ancient Calradian chariot races. After this was the jousting competition, which was won by a veteran mercenary by the name of Geroni. Once this was finished, we dispersed for an hour for lunch. We were each served a plate of roast lamb, salad, bread, and plum pudding for dessert. I have yet to grow tired of Rhodoks cuisine, and it's actually one of the things I will miss most once I depart.
After lunch came individual swordfights, and then the centerpiece of the event, the grand melee. I cannot describe how glorious of a spectacle it was, seeing masses of men clad in shining armor charge at each other in mock battle. I still have a bitter taste in my mouth from having to fight in the New World, but this was different. There was no bloodlust here, no desire to tear foes asunder. This was done for honor, glory, and the sheer joy of sport, and I found myself growing increasingly invested in the event. It was almost a shame when it wound down and the last two champions stood against each other, armed with nothing but longswords and shields. The final fight lasted almost fifteen minutes, but was concluded when one of the men surprised his opponent by feinting a stab and suddenly flicking his wrist upwards, catching him under his chin with the flat of his blade. His opponent fell and yielded when he felt the sword at his throat. The crowd (and I) cheered this maneuver, and when the man removed his helmet, we were greeted by a feminine face, who smiled up at the king. Naturally, we were surprised, but when I asked about this, one of the tourney judges mentioned that while it was uncommon for women to fight in and win the grand melee, it was not unheard of. Once the melee was concluded, awards were handed out, and then the king announced the close of the tournament. However, there was still one more event left for us to participate in.
We returned to the manor and Barone Gottlans announced that we were to attend a feast that evening. Thus, we were ushered back to our rooms, cleaned, and fitted for clothing to wear. I was clad in a teal silk tabard, white linen shirt, black trousers, and knee-high black leather boots that were polished to a brilliant shine. When I noticed myself in the reflection of a silver plate, I was stunned by my appearance. I could hardly believe that the regal face looking back at me was my own. My cheekbones have become very pronounced, my face has become long and lean, and I am standing straighter than ever before, making me appear taller and broader-shouldered than I could have expected. The most stunning change, though, was to my eyes. No longer do I have a bright-eyed look of wonder, but instead a calm confidence, indicating a transition from mere intellect to wisdom. It's a look that suggests depths that the average man or woman could not conceive of, the same look I've seen on the faces of many of my professors. Truly, this journey has changed me in ways that I had not even dreamt of.
Once the feast began, it quickly became apparent that this was more than a mere meal, but a dance as well. When I realized this, I began sweating. Dancing has never been my strong suit, and I prayed that it was optional. The meal itself was more of a buffet, with food available to those who wanted it in whatever amounts they desired. I nibbled at some roast goose and grapes, but most of the early part of the feast I cannot recall. However, that changed when Conte Etrosqe approached me and politely inquired as to how I was enjoying the party. Though I gave him a stock answer, he merely chuckled and replied that he could see on my face that I was uncomfortable. He then reassured me that he felt the same way during his first feast. When I asked what he meant, he explained that he'd once been little more than an adventurer, but King Agostino had been impressed by his talent and offered him a fiefdom. He'd risen quickly through the ranks shortly after this, but he still had the trappings of a commoner. This put me at ease and I admitted my trepidation about dancing, at which point he invited me to simply chat with him and his sister, Lady Geneiava. We took a seat on some benches and proceeded to spend most of the night simply chatting. I was surprised by how intellectual the pair were. Conte Etrosqe was well-learned in classical history and military strategy, while Lady Geneiava was a talented poet and artist. Thus we had a wide range of topics to discuss as the evening wore on. However, towards the end of the ball, King Agostino announced that all guests had to make their way onto the floor for a final dance. When I hesitated, Conte Etrosqe glanced at his sister, who smiled and asked me to invite her to dance. I hesitated, but when they stared at me, I agreed. As we made our way onto the dance floor, I asked why the conte didn't want to dance with his sister himself, but Lady Geneiava laughed and nodded over my shoulder. He was arm in arm with a lady named Aneth, whom, Geneiava whispered, the conte rather fancied. I couldn't help but grin at this as I let her lead me through the steps of the dance. Towards the end of the song, I caught on and Geneiava no longer had to direct me, so I kept pace with her, enjoying her company as we danced. When we parted, she smiled and told me that if I ever wished to visit their lands, I would be welcome as a guest. Neither she nor Conte Etrosqe had much opportunity to socialize with others that were their intellectual equals, and it would be nice to have a friend visit them from time to time. I was startled and flattered, and agreed that if there was ever an opportunity, I would be delighted. She then surprised me further by kissing my cheek and wishing me good night. I was left standing there dumbly for a few moments before deciding that the best way to react was to simply get some sleep.
Thus, I retired to my room. It's been an hour, and I can still hardly believe everything that's happened. It's been like a fairy tale. Never had I imagined I would cavort with kings and nobles, share meals with contes and barones. But I also realize that it will soon come to an end. Tomorrow a carriage will be arranged to take me back to Swadia. I am still unsure whether to travel to Aldeburgh and see my family first, or to head straight for Praven, avoid my father, and report my findings to the university. But I will have time to decide on the journey, and perhaps my hand will be decided for me. Only time can tell now. But it has been rather fun in the meanwhile, and I am going to genuinely miss the Kingdom of Rhodoks.
August 8, 1420
August 8, 1420
Basim called me into the captain's quarters earlier today, and I could tell from the tone of his voice when he called me inside that something had gone wrong. As I took a seat, he pointed to the map before him, and I instantly felt the color drain from my face. Somewhere along the way, I knew I had made a mistake. As I began frantically looking for what had went wrong, he waved me off and commented that we were further north than he had intended us, that we weren't traveling east at a sharp enough degree for his liking. When I asked him if this meant that we were no longer in range of Calradia, he shook his head and replied that we hadn't sailed THAT far north. We had to correct our course and take a more eastern route. He was, however, angry that we had cost ourselves more time than was necessary. By his calculations, we're now going to have to spend an extra week at sea thanks to my error. When I tried to apologize, he merely replied that he was partially to blame as well, since he had not been checking my work as carefully, especially after he took ill a little while ago. However, he also made a point that he was going to be checking my navigation much more carefully from now on, before shooing me out the door.
What's most unfortunate about this is that morale has been slipping lately. The men have been running on sheer force of will ever since we hit open ocean, knowing that with a vastly weakened crew, we've all had to work twice as hard simply to stay alive. That knowledge has allowed us to work shifts that a normal crew would find grueling at best, and nearly impossible in the worst of conditions. However, with the food starting to spoil (much of our supply was fresh from the New World, meaning that most of it has rotted away, and the non-perishable items are dwindling quickly) and the labor taking its toll on our bodies, nerves are starting to fray. No fights have broken out yet - we all realize that all that would be doing would be expending energy that we simply don't have right now - but there's a tension lingering in the air that hasn't been there since Ferdinand's mutiny.
It's for this reason that I've kept carefully silent about the fact that we've spent longer at sea than we need to. If word gets out that I'm to blame... I don't want to have to worry about sleeping at night when I can barely sleep as it is, with my workload as heavy as it's been. However, some of the men have been grumbling that they feel as though this is taking even longer than the trip to the New World was, and it's even worse because how hard can it be to miss an entire continent? From experience, apparently it's quite easy. Still, I also wonder where we'll end up. According to Basim, we're too far north to land in Zendar now, as originally intended, but he doesn't think we'll wind up in the Nordic lands, or even in Swadia. His best guess is to try and land us somewhere near Yalen, where we'll be able to put into port and rest there before heading our separate ways. Not exactly the intended end to our journey, but it's certainly better than trying to land on an unoccupied beach somewhere in western Rhodoks.
August 12, 1420
Tempers are starting to flare. I was on deck taking measurements for my next calculation - with Basim standing over my shoulder to make sure that I was doing it right - when I heard a loud curse behind me and turned around to see Calen and Revir staring each other down. Apparently, they had been shooting dice when Calen claimed he had won a round. One of the dice had been knocked on its side by a rolling wave, and it wasn't clear if it had already stopped moving or not when it rolled over onto another number, losing him the set and his wager. When he tried to protest this, Revir refused to back down, and the two seemed to be about ready to come to blows right there in the middle of the deck, with the rest of us present watching as the tension began to brew between the pair of them.
Basim stepped up and told the two to stand down as they were glaring at each other, but Calen turned and shouted at Basim that he wasn't the captain and therefore he didn't have to take orders from him. The ship turned deathly quiet as Basim stalked towards him and growled that he was out of line, but Calen responded that he wasn't going to listen to some "ash-skinned sand-eater." Basim responded by ordering Revir and Tabor to grab Calen and tie him to the mast as he went into the captain's cabin. The two crewmen complied while Calen shouted about how unfair the situation was, but when he saw Basim re-emerge, his eyes widened. In his hand was a whip. With Calen tied down and unable to move, Basim administered ten lashes to the man. By the eighth, the man had stopped screaming and was slumped against the mast, passed out. He was untied and tossed unceremoniously to the deck while Basim ordered the men to get back to work.
However, ever since that incident, there has been a rolling undercurrent of tension and barely-contained fury among some of the men. The weather has only grown hotter for some reason even as we've traveled north, and the plates of food are getting worse and skimpier by the day. I'm worried that it's only a matter of time before the men try to stage a mutiny against Basim, though I feel that it would only be Calen and maybe one or two of the others. Most of us are just tired of this voyage and want to get home. So long as we can last that long without anyone doing anything rash - such as drawing swords - we can get through the rest of this journey and put the entire experience behind us. I only pray that it doesn't take very long, or tensions will boil over.
August 16, 1420
Tensions finally came to a head earlier today. It was mid-afternoon when our lunch was revealed to have been all but devoured by weevils that had managed to somehow get into our stores of maize and destroy it. As a result, we had to feast on rotten fruit, stale bread, and salted fish that had started to smell thanks to an improper curing process. Faced with all of this, it was Calen who snapped first and demanded that Sargio find him some better food. Sargio (clearly trying to keep his own temper in check) slowly explained that there was simply nothing left for us that wasn't going bad, at which point Calen exploded, screaming at him that this trip had been a living hell that had just gone from bad to worse over the last several days, and he demanded to know why Sargio couldn't simply keep food from spoiling. Sargio turned away at this point, not bothering to respond, but he froze - as did everyone else on the deck - when we heard the unmistakable ringing of a blade being drawn.
I saw Calen standing with a knife drawn as he shouted that he hadn't finished talking, and who was Sargio to walk away from him when he was still speaking? Sargio told him very calmly to put down the knife before he did something that he was going to regret, but at that point, Calen threw his plate at the chef. Sargio dodged this and began to back towards the door leading below decks, but at this point, Calen charged him. Before he could get within range, he had been tackled to the deck by Tabor and Revir, and I kicked the knife out of his hand before he could do any harm. It was then that Basim burst out of his quarters, demanding to know what was going on, and when he saw Calen being pinned to the deck, he quickly figured out that the man had been causing trouble again.
Sighing, he ordered Calen strung up and went to get his whip, with Calen thrashing about the entire time and screaming insults at everyone present. I was beginning to think that he had simply gone mad from the stress of the voyage, and frankly, I couldn't blame him. However, he still was to blame for his actions, and he had no business pulling a knife on Sargio, regardless of the circumstances. Basim re-emerged with the whip, but it was at that point that Calen screamed that Basim was a coward who had to have his crew do everything for him, and that he wouldn't dare fight Calen in a fair fight for fear he would lose. Basim seemed to stiffen at this, and I could see he was contemplating giving him his wish. The Sarranid's hand actually went to his scimitar, and the rest of us watched with bated breath as we wondered if he was actually going to duel Calen on the deck.
However, the moment of tension passed, and the man simply put down his whip and walked away. Over his shoulder, he told Tabor and Revir to put him in the brig, and that we all needed to calm down. It was then that Mercius claimed he had heard something. Everyone went still, straining to hear, and that was when I heard it as well - a faint cawing noise. Looking about, Basim was the first one to spot it with his telescope, and he let out a joyful cry. A seagull was flying a little ways to our starboard side. We hadn't seen any of the birds since we had left Calradia. Meaning... we were close. We instantly began celebrating, and even Calen was cut down, where he began weeping and apologizing for what he had nearly done. Some of the men began singing the Rhodoks anthem, while I instantly went for my diary to record everything that just transpired. Basim is standing over me with a bottle of wine he had produced from somewhere, and while I don't normally drink, I'll make an exception in this case. It's impossible to describe the whiplash one feels going from tense despair to unbridled joy. I won't endeavor to describe it; I'll simply enjoy it and wash it all down with alcohol.
August 20, 1420
The brief elation we felt at catching sight of the seagull was tempered somewhat when we realized that we still had yet to spot land, making us wonder how far out to sea we were. However, that all changed when we traveled for four days and didn't catch sight of land. We were growing impatient when a fishing vessel was spotted a ways away, and we decided to alter our course to make way for it to converse with those aboard. It took us three hours and put us well south of where we had been, but when we finally came within range of the vessel, it signaled us with a flag and we responded in turn, both sides indicating that they were friendly and we adding that we wished to speak with them. With piracy becoming an increasing problem along the coast, we could well have been lying, but it was unlikely. Pirates rarely attack small fishing vessels, so fortunately for them, there was little danger of them being attacked by us.
When we approached them, Basim stepped out on deck and both parties weighed anchor before the captains approached to talk. The captain of the fishing vessel was cordial to us in his greeting, but also naturally curious as to why we wanted to talk. Words cannot express how much of a relief it was being able to listen to a conversation without having to translate it. Basim responded by asking how far away from Calradia we were. The captain of the fishing boat responded with a raised eyebrow and asked how we could have gotten lost, but Basim replied that we were the Verdant Horizon, the vessel that had traveled to the New World months ago, and now we didn't have much of a bearing. When we told him this, the five fishermen aboard burst out laughing, with the captain explaining that we had been pronounced dead months ago, and that there was no way we could have been the sailors who left on that ill-fated journey. Basim simply responded by inviting them to look at the name printed on the side of the hull. The fishermen were shocked when they realized who we were, and they stared at us as though they were seeing ghosts or saints in the flesh. Perhaps both.
In any case, the captain of the fishing vessel stammered out that we were about four days out from Yalen and that if we headed a little ways southwest, we would reach the docks of the city by that point. Basim thanked them, and then told one of us to bring one of the treasure chests forward. He opened it and explained that this was from his cut of the treasure, before withdrawing five Acztaoc silver coins, which he tossed down to the men on the boat, who caught them and stammered out their thanks. Little surprise, too; that bit of treasure should feed each of them individually for about a week, since the coins are made of pure silver and impossibly rare in these parts. A few of the men grumbled about losing part of the treasure, but Basim reiterated that it was from his own personal cut before thanking the men again.
We raised anchor, but as we did, the fishermen did so as well, explaining that they were going to go ahead and inform the townspeople of our imminent arrival, so that we would have a proper welcome home. They were in a smaller, faster ship, so they will likely reach about a day ahead of us, but it's not as though any of us care. Calradia is so close that I can taste it, and the anticipation is so much that I cannot sleep. Hence why I decided to write, doing something productive rather than frittering away the late hours of the night. Of course I realize that it'll likely be weeks before I see Kivana again, but just returning to the homeland is more than enough to cause my heart to race and my soul to leap with joy. Soon. Very soon.
August 24, 1420
Landfall. At long last, once again, we have set foot on Calradian soil. Foreign though it may be, far from Swadia, and full of customs and culture that are still somewhat alien to me, I am once again standing in Calradia. And never has a patch of earth seemed sweeter.
Basim insisted on taking the helm for the last leg of our journey and would not permit me to navigate. Our proximity to Calradia likely gave him the burst of energy needed to guide us through the last of our trip, as he took many of the duties of running the ship upon himself. He rarely slept, and when he wasn't at the helm, he was in the captain's cabin ensuring that we were precisely on point to reach Yalen. The rest of the crew, myself included, were more than happy to just stay out of his way. We celebrated by eating the last of the food, which Sargio did his best to make palatable and baked it into an enormous pie for our last meal the day before we were set to arrive in Yalen. It was a sort of hodgepodge of fish, maize, bread, and the remnants of the dried vegetables, all thrown together with a thickened gravy he made. Despite the rot, it actually wasn't bad, and lifted our spirits for the next day.
It was Revir who spotted land first by mid-morning, making out the shape of the city on the plateau overlooking the sea. We let out cheers of joy, and a keg of rum was rolled out and cracked open, undiluted, for us to enjoy. It wasn't long before we were singing drunken songs on the deck of the ship while Basim steered. I don't remember much of the arrival into port, naturally, but I do recall several ships sailing by us, wishing us greetings and safe returns. As we drew closer, the rum wore off (for me at least, as I'd had very little and we opened the barrel about two hours before we even came within clear view of Calradia) and the rest of the trip was much clearer. The first thing I noticed besides the sight of land was the sound. A veritable symphony had been organized by this point and was blaring various songs as we sailed towards the docks. A massive crowd of people had gathered to welcome us home, and honestly, I was surprised that so many had chosen to believe the word of a few fishermen. Nevertheless, by early afternoon, we had once again reached home, and Basim was the first to step off of the ship, closely followed by the rest of us, and we were immediately swarmed by the populace.
Various questions were being shouted at us - where had we been, what had we seen, were the rumors of gold and silver true, what had happened to our captain, why was this Sarranid now in charge? The last two caught me by surprise, but I suppose that it's a point of national pride for the Rhodoks that it was their captain leading this voyage. Of course it was impossible for us to answer all at once, and it was only when a trumpet blared that some semblance of order was restored. The crowd parted and I was astonished to see a man in noble robes approaching us. Barone Gottlans, the ruler of Yalen, approached us through the crowd and immediately ordered his guards to protect us and the ship (the latter of which was because some people were trying to board it). He then heartily welcomed us back to Calradia and informed us that we were to be his personal guests in his manor that evening. A large feast was already being prepared for us, and he invited us to bring what we had procured in the New World to his castle, where we could protect it safely. We quickly agreed to this, and the chests were unloaded from the Horizon as he led us through the streets, still flanked by curious onlookers. Naturally, his first question was what had happened to Santiagon, and when Basim explained part of what had happened, he expressed regret, but also mentioned that it would be best if we told the full story over the meal. In the meantime, his servants would see to us.
Thus, when we arrived, we were given private rooms and all tended to by his staff. We were bathed, had our hair cut (I actually kept my hair fairly long and allowed them to trim my beard so that I retained a mustache and goatee, but nothing else), and were given new garments to wear made of silk and linen, which were more comfortable than any I had ever worn before. All the time, I caught enticing smells that made my stomach growl and by sunset I was yearning for proper Calradian fare. The barone presented us with a five-course meal, starting with a light salad, followed by a thick vegetable soup flavored with cracked pepper, a fish dish consisting of filleted white tuna and oysters, the main course of a massive wild boar glazed in honey and spices with roasted apples and sauteed green beans, and finally for dessert, honeycake stuffed with jam filling. All this was served with Rhodoks white and red wines, unwatered, so that by the end of the meal my stomach was stuffed and my head was spinning pleasantly. Throughout the meal, Basim regaled our host with tales of our adventures, starting with the storms we'd faced on the trip down, the various islands we had visited, the treasures found therein, the natives, the mutiny, our capture and Santiagon's execution, our discovery of the Acztaocs and the battles wer participated in, and finally our return home. Occasionally one of us would pipe up, and Basim actually turned to me fairly often to offer a scholar's opinion on the events that had transpired (though I said nothing that I have not already written here, so there is little point in giving an abridged version of my perspective). Throughout it all, the barone and his courtiers were enraptured by our saga, and at the end of it he mentioned that he was certain this tale would not remain private knowledge for long, and that the bards that had listened in would no doubt be trying to put it to song by morning.
We lingered over dinner for a long while as the barone tried to catch us up to current events. However, no major wars had broken out (though there were talks of the Nordic Union facing difficulties with pagan rebels), and while there was a sickness going around throughout the spring months, it could hardly be considered a plague. The crops had been doing relatively well, and the weather was a bit drier than usual, but overall unremarkable. All in all, it seems as though Calradia has been about as uneventful as one could hope for it to be. Once the barone had related these events for us, the sun had set and the torches in the main hall were lit. Because it was growing dim, he suggested that we head to bed, and in the morning we could take stock of what we had gathered. Basim heartily agreed, and we were shooed off to our various rooms. Despite my fatigue, though, I wanted to record these events in my faithful diary, my truest companion throughout my travels. It seems I will have need of it a bit longer, if a record of what's transpired is to be kept. I never thought it would become this indispensable to me, but neither did I think at the start of the year that I would return to my homeland as a living hero of sorts. And that is the sweetest prize of all - that I have indeed returned home safely, when so many others have not. Rest their souls.
August 25, 1420
When we awoke the next morning, we were informed that there had been two separate thievery attempts in the middle of the night. Both had been thwarted; one of the thieves had been captured and was currently sitting in the dungeons, while the other had been slain attempting to fight his way through the guards. We were told this over a breakfast of honeyed porridge with fruit and fresh bread. I'd never thought I would miss wheat products as much as I have, but I have no desire to eat maize again for a long time. Once we were finished with the excellent meal, the baronne set us up in the parlor where we waited for a few hours for his accountants to arrive so that they could take stock of the treasures we had gathered in the New World. In the meanwhile, I amused myself by browsing through the baronne's library, which he was more than happy to allow me to do. I was a quarter of the way through a comedic tale about three sisters trying to choose a husband when the last banker arrived and the sorting began.
As expected, the bulk of the wealth we had acquired was in the form of precious stones and metals in all forms, ranging from gold and silver ores to coins, polished precious and semi-precious stones, pieces of artwork carved out of gold and turquoise, sacrificial knives, blades of obsidian, fur-covered shields and armor, and jewelry incorporating all of these elements. These naturally were what piqued most of the accountants' interest, and I could tell some of them were taking great pleasure in simply running their hands through the wealth before them. Others, however, were more intrigued by some of the resources we had returned with. The topako leaves we had returned with, for example, interested them, as they wondered if they were some sort of food at first (similar to bay leaves) until I explained how the natives used them for medicinal purposes by smoking them. They thought this was a novel idea, but refrained from doing so in the baronne's parlor. They were also intrigued by some of the spices we had returned with, as nothing of the sort had ever been seen in Calradia. We had been lucky enough to store some seeds, so selling these would net us even more profit. The ivory we collected from some of the creatures was also marketed as a high-value item. The kotton that the natives had identified for us sparked less interest, though one man mentioned that he thought it might be a good, cheap substitute for silk if it was weaved properly.
The accounting lasted for most of the day, and while at first I was rather invested in the proceedings, I quickly lost interest when it came to tallying up the individual spoils, and I returned to my book after about an hour and a half. We did take a break for lunch, which was stuffed pheasant with a light salad. While we ate, the accountants asked us about the adventures themselves, and Basim spent most of his meal relating our adventures to them instead of eating. Thus we lingered for well over two hours over the meal before returning to work. It was late afternoon by the time the accountants were finished with their tally, and by this point I had finished the first book and had started on a second. This, however, I put down to pay attention to the value that the bankers placed on our loot. The final verdict stunned me.
According to their best estimates, based on rarity of the objects, condition, and potential future income, we had collected just shy of about two hundred thousand florins worth of goods. I felt my jaw drop at that figure, and even Basim's eyes were bulging. Even split nine ways, that was still over twenty thousand florins each, enough to buy two houses and still have enough coin left over to feed oneself comfortably for years. The men let out cheers of sheer joy, and I saw a few of them crying while the accountants laughed. Barone Gottlans broke out a bottle of good wine for us and toasted our success before inviting us to dinner. Unlike the feast from the night before, there were only three courses, but no one was complaining. The first dish was a thick beef stew, which was the first time some of the crew had ever tasted beef (I'd had it on two prior occasions at Praven University during a holiday). The main course consisted of freshly caught lobster tails with lemon butter, Sarranid rice, and steamed vegetables. For dessert, we dined on a fresh-baked berry pie and a light rose wine that had a pleasantly sweet flavor to it. Once this was finished, Baronne Gottleins announced that he would like to invite us to stay at his manor for a few more days while he arranged a tournament in our honor so that all the nobles of Rhodoks could greet us, and then he would arrange carriages with escorts to take us back to our home cities. At first I balked at the expenses that the baronne must be accruing, but then I realized that to him, it was worth it for the prestige of being the first to host the heroes of the New World. He was seeking to improve his own standing and impress his peers by showing them how competent he was despite his rank. Perhaps he was even bucking for an expansion to his fiefdom. God, may I never engage in the games of nobles.
Once the dishes were cleared, we lingered for a little while in the parlor, but it quickly became apparent that most of us were exhausted after the day's festivities, and I retired to my room soon after. Though I did finish up the second book I had been reading, I took a little time to burn some oil and write in this diary. I expect I'll be busy over the next few days as nobles trickle in, but I must admit, I'm rather looking forward to it. It's a fun change being doted on by people in power, even if I recognize that some of them might try to use me to their own ends. But as I said, so long as I stay out of the games that these nobles play, there's no harm in basking in the praise and prestige for a little while.
August 28, 1420
It's been a few days since we arrived back in Calradia, and I still haven't grown used to the fact that I and my shipmates are now famous. Obviously I wasn't going to stay cooped up in the manor while the tournament was being organized, so I spent a couple of days wandering the streets of Yalen. The Barone insisted on having a pair of armed guards accompany us everywhere, and after spending ten minutes in the streets, I was grateful. I was swarmed by people almost anywhere that I went, with them asking me questions about my adventures, requesting that I share meals with them, trying to touch me, to interact with me in some way. Five different women begged me to marry their daughters. Fortunately, the guards batted these people away, and while at first I was a little taken aback by the rough treatment of the peasants, I soon realized its necessity. Regardless, I've enjoyed my stay in the city. I spent an entire afternoon engrossed in an art gallery displaying the finest paintings of the last three hundred years. I'll admit this: While Swadia prides itself on its works of sculpture and architecture, Rhodoks' painters have skill that is unmatched in all of Calradia.
The tournament itself took place this morning, and was attended by all of the major personalities of Rhodoks, including every noble of note and even King Agostino himself. As expected, they were more than excited to meet us, and the same familiar questions surfaced. However, it was different in that one could still feel the level of respect that these men and women garnered. I found myself instinctively keeping my speech deferential even as I was relaying the details of the journey, which was something I had not bothered to do in any of my previous retellings. Barone Gottleins had assured us that he wanted us to speak with him as equals, but I did not get the same feeling from the other nobles. However, they were particularly impressed with my own etiquette, and I silently thanked my father and my education for teaching me how to react in social situations.
When the tournament began, we were seated in the king's box, where we were treated as the guests of honor. Throughout the tournament we were constantly offered refreshments - rich Rhodoks wine, cheese, hot bread, fruit, whatever we desired. I ate little, but I caught a few of the others gorging themselves on what was offered, to the point where one of the nobles laughed and assured them that lunch would be served. In the tournament itself, the first event was the archery competition of both longbows and crossbows. This was followed by horseback races around the track, reminiscent of the ancient Calradian chariot races. After this was the jousting competition, which was won by a veteran mercenary by the name of Geroni. Once this was finished, we dispersed for an hour for lunch. We were each served a plate of roast lamb, salad, bread, and plum pudding for dessert. I have yet to grow tired of Rhodoks cuisine, and it's actually one of the things I will miss most once I depart.
After lunch came individual swordfights, and then the centerpiece of the event, the grand melee. I cannot describe how glorious of a spectacle it was, seeing masses of men clad in shining armor charge at each other in mock battle. I still have a bitter taste in my mouth from having to fight in the New World, but this was different. There was no bloodlust here, no desire to tear foes asunder. This was done for honor, glory, and the sheer joy of sport, and I found myself growing increasingly invested in the event. It was almost a shame when it wound down and the last two champions stood against each other, armed with nothing but longswords and shields. The final fight lasted almost fifteen minutes, but was concluded when one of the men surprised his opponent by feinting a stab and suddenly flicking his wrist upwards, catching him under his chin with the flat of his blade. His opponent fell and yielded when he felt the sword at his throat. The crowd (and I) cheered this maneuver, and when the man removed his helmet, we were greeted by a feminine face, who smiled up at the king. Naturally, we were surprised, but when I asked about this, one of the tourney judges mentioned that while it was uncommon for women to fight in and win the grand melee, it was not unheard of. Once the melee was concluded, awards were handed out, and then the king announced the close of the tournament. However, there was still one more event left for us to participate in.
We returned to the manor and Barone Gottlans announced that we were to attend a feast that evening. Thus, we were ushered back to our rooms, cleaned, and fitted for clothing to wear. I was clad in a teal silk tabard, white linen shirt, black trousers, and knee-high black leather boots that were polished to a brilliant shine. When I noticed myself in the reflection of a silver plate, I was stunned by my appearance. I could hardly believe that the regal face looking back at me was my own. My cheekbones have become very pronounced, my face has become long and lean, and I am standing straighter than ever before, making me appear taller and broader-shouldered than I could have expected. The most stunning change, though, was to my eyes. No longer do I have a bright-eyed look of wonder, but instead a calm confidence, indicating a transition from mere intellect to wisdom. It's a look that suggests depths that the average man or woman could not conceive of, the same look I've seen on the faces of many of my professors. Truly, this journey has changed me in ways that I had not even dreamt of.
Once the feast began, it quickly became apparent that this was more than a mere meal, but a dance as well. When I realized this, I began sweating. Dancing has never been my strong suit, and I prayed that it was optional. The meal itself was more of a buffet, with food available to those who wanted it in whatever amounts they desired. I nibbled at some roast goose and grapes, but most of the early part of the feast I cannot recall. However, that changed when Conte Etrosqe approached me and politely inquired as to how I was enjoying the party. Though I gave him a stock answer, he merely chuckled and replied that he could see on my face that I was uncomfortable. He then reassured me that he felt the same way during his first feast. When I asked what he meant, he explained that he'd once been little more than an adventurer, but King Agostino had been impressed by his talent and offered him a fiefdom. He'd risen quickly through the ranks shortly after this, but he still had the trappings of a commoner. This put me at ease and I admitted my trepidation about dancing, at which point he invited me to simply chat with him and his sister, Lady Geneiava. We took a seat on some benches and proceeded to spend most of the night simply chatting. I was surprised by how intellectual the pair were. Conte Etrosqe was well-learned in classical history and military strategy, while Lady Geneiava was a talented poet and artist. Thus we had a wide range of topics to discuss as the evening wore on. However, towards the end of the ball, King Agostino announced that all guests had to make their way onto the floor for a final dance. When I hesitated, Conte Etrosqe glanced at his sister, who smiled and asked me to invite her to dance. I hesitated, but when they stared at me, I agreed. As we made our way onto the dance floor, I asked why the conte didn't want to dance with his sister himself, but Lady Geneiava laughed and nodded over my shoulder. He was arm in arm with a lady named Aneth, whom, Geneiava whispered, the conte rather fancied. I couldn't help but grin at this as I let her lead me through the steps of the dance. Towards the end of the song, I caught on and Geneiava no longer had to direct me, so I kept pace with her, enjoying her company as we danced. When we parted, she smiled and told me that if I ever wished to visit their lands, I would be welcome as a guest. Neither she nor Conte Etrosqe had much opportunity to socialize with others that were their intellectual equals, and it would be nice to have a friend visit them from time to time. I was startled and flattered, and agreed that if there was ever an opportunity, I would be delighted. She then surprised me further by kissing my cheek and wishing me good night. I was left standing there dumbly for a few moments before deciding that the best way to react was to simply get some sleep.
Thus, I retired to my room. It's been an hour, and I can still hardly believe everything that's happened. It's been like a fairy tale. Never had I imagined I would cavort with kings and nobles, share meals with contes and barones. But I also realize that it will soon come to an end. Tomorrow a carriage will be arranged to take me back to Swadia. I am still unsure whether to travel to Aldeburgh and see my family first, or to head straight for Praven, avoid my father, and report my findings to the university. But I will have time to decide on the journey, and perhaps my hand will be decided for me. Only time can tell now. But it has been rather fun in the meanwhile, and I am going to genuinely miss the Kingdom of Rhodoks.
Blackwater
Veteran
New post! I don't think this will be the last section, but we're closing in on the end of the story here.
Binary Code
Recruit
-10/10, it's like skyrim with books
Blackwater
Veteran
HAH! That has to be the coolest comment I've ever gotten on this. Thank you. New post is up!
Blackwater
Veteran
New post has been added! Enjoy!
Blackwater
Veteran
Diary hath been written in!
Yowakusuru
Regular
Great post! Hmm, I have the odd feeling with the sailors having been declared dead and the mention of Kivana at the end means the main character might not be getting a happy ending Hope I'm wrong
Hope I'm wrongBlackwater
Veteran
Yalen. Not Veluca, Yalen. I can't believe I made that mistake for so long. Geh.
Heh. You'll just have to wait and see Yowakusuru.
New post has been posted! Don't worry, there's still some more story to go even though they've returned home.
Heh. You'll just have to wait and see Yowakusuru.
New post has been posted! Don't worry, there's still some more story to go even though they've returned home.
