The common room continued its bustle behind the seated Rava’kin. ‘You all…’ ‘You folk…,’ Roderick thought, listening to its words. It speaks like a well-read farmhand. Seraphine seemed to register these words as well, her demeanor shifting even more towards curiosity.
“Felt the storm? That’s an understatement,” Seraphine said into her mug.
The creature smiled, glancing at her briefly again, and scratching absently at its left shoulder.
“Well, the same storm blew a merchant ship onto the beach just outside my parents’ ranch. I recovered a survivor who was heavily traumatized by the ordeal. This haunted-looking sailor charged me with reporting the shipwreck to its chapter house here on the mainland.”
Both Seraphine and he stiffened at the mention of the sailor’s demeanor. He wondered whether it connected to what had happened to the settlement.
“On the voyage here, sea serpents attacked the crew and I while rescuing another sailor, lost adrift in the bay. Since arriving here, I have been hearing stories regarding ghostly pirates, strange lights, aggressive sea creatures, and folk going missing. The ones returning seem to have pieces of their being stripped from them, like the sailor back on my island.”
Seraphine’s eyes widened at the creature’s words, though she quickly composed herself.
“We’ve…heard such rumors. Strange lights, shadows under the waves, and sailors going missing. It’s w…”
“A shipwreck,” Roderick said, his voice steady and deliberate as he talked over the bard. “And sea serpents in the bay? That’s not the sort of tale one hears every day. I don’t suppose this shipwreck of yours has anything to do with the Silver Drake or the other trouble stirring out in these waters?”
“Unfortunately, the ship’s name was the Waveshear, and it was destroyed. The contents of its hold were likewise ruined and scattered up and down our coast. The sea serpents, however, were hassling a rowboat near the Pelavora shore, about two days up the coast from here, and were waiting for folks as foolhardy as myself to investigate. I would’ve died had it not been for the crew of the Sea Sprinter backing me up.”
Roderick’s brow furrowed as the creature mentioned the merchant vessel, his expression darkening. He leaned forward, his left hand now resting on the table, fingers drumming while the name stirred a memory he’d long forgotten. Seraphine looked both intrigued and alarmed, her eyes resting on Elec with growing intensity.
“The Waveshear,” The old sword said, “That’s a name I haven’t heard in years…not since leaving eastern Valais. And you say it was destroyed during the typhoon? I doubt the storm was the cause of its demise. The Waveshear was no ordinary ship. Its crew was always hand-picked experts, and its hull contained many enchantments. It carried cargo that some would kill to protect or to claim. If it’s gone, then whatever it was carrying may have played a part in its demise.”
“And you survived an encounter with sea serpents? Ship-sinking sea serpents?” Seraphine interjected, trying to remain a part of the conversation to Roderick’s annoyance. “Most don’t live to tell that tale. If they were circling a rowboat near the shore, then something about that boat or its passenger must have drawn them. Did you learn anything about who was aboard? Or what they might have been carrying?”
The Rava’kin’s hand shook and touched its left shoulder again for a moment. It looked at its hand, almost annoyed as it shook it out, and forced it back to the table.
“Well, again, it was a mistake that nearly cost me everything, but I had believed the creatures to be much smaller, being that close to land. The survivor has been unconscious since his rescue. And as for the rowboat, there were some scraps of parchment with a weird symbol: circles within circles with lines radiating out like a spider’s web. Written on it was something along the lines of ‘…the deep is awakening’.”
Roderick looked to Seraphine again, her eyes meeting his as if in agreement. The Rava’kin’s island encounters and voyage tied to the crown, the lantern, and the region’s mysteries. The symbol it had described matched the ones at the bandit camp and other places. Although he doubted the creature’s honesty, he had to admit that it was on the same trail they had followed for four years.
“Well now, you’ve faced the serpents and survived,” Roderick began. “That alone marks you as someone willing to skirt danger. But tell me, are you ready to follow this to its conclusion? Because if you are, you’re stepping into waters far deeper than you’ve imagined.”
Seraphine placed a gentle hand on Roderick’s arm, her gaze softening as she looked at the creature.
“We don’t mean to frighten you, Elec.” She said, “But if you’ve seen the serpents, the wreck, and that symbol, then you’re already in the middle of this. My name is Seraphine Ashwynd, and this is Roderick Mornhold. If you’re looking for allies, we may be able to help. Provided you’re willing to share what you know…”
Her offer hung in the air, tinged with both caution and sincerity. It regarded them both for a long while, glancing from the old sword to the bard and back. Its expression was a combination of calculation and nervousness, weighing whether he and the bard were trustworthy. It is very young and very unsure, Roderick thought, but it also is very cautious, despite walking so freely in this town. On top of that, the last battle had left the creature rattled and further unsure. Roderick admitted the creature was smart, if only a little naive. Finally, the Rava’kin nodded.
“My parents had said that I should venture out a little bit once I had reported the wreckage, as this is my first time away from home. That and the old saying about cats and curiosity: you definitely have mine. What do you have in mind?”
The bard and the swordsman looked at each other and said in unison.
“Training yard.”
*
Elec rose with the two adventurers and followed them out of the Salty Gull. He was glad they walked several paces ahead of him so he could better hide his enthusiasm. The country road they followed paralleled the coast, giving a beautiful view of the ocean for miles. The rhythmic crashing of waves gave an additional feeling of surrealness to the walk, and the crisp salt tang in the air reminded him of home. On top of that, he couldn’t help but stare at the red-haired Half-elf the whole time. The lute slung across her back bounced gently just above her well-toned bottom. Her well-muscled hips were equally pleasant to watch as they swayed with each stride. The older, white-haired warrior was of a different manner. Elec observed his steady, yet surprisingly quiet, march and a frame thicker than even his own. He was older, but deceptively so. His physicality and sharpness of mind spoke of someone in their early forties, like himself, but the hair and countenance showed one who had been fighting for decades. He observed the two of them together. How they walked, near but not too close. Friends, but not lovers, from his guess, as there were none of the telltale affectionate touches or laughing small talk. Uncle and niece, or rather, brother and sister in arms that have traveled together for several years. Familiar with each other to become practically family.
The trees surrounding the town proper gave way to expansive farmland. The smell of tilled dirt and the green scent of healthy crops joined the general coastal aromas. Hopping over a fence, Roderick and Seraphine approached a distant splitting stump with a pile of unsplit logs stacked nearby. Elec followed suit. The warrior grabbed several logs and placed one on top of the tree stump. The others rested against the side. Seraphine unslung her lute, leaned against the stack of logs, and played a soft melody. Roderick tilted his head toward the log.
Elec had thought to make a joke, but figured the warrior would not be in the mood for it. Wanting to show off a bit, he focused his energy into the power of lightning, and with a raised hand, a small, tiny sliver of energy shot out and split the log with the sound of a whip-crack. Roderick nodded and replaced the log. This time he called forth fire and, like a dragon’s breath from his hands, it came out in a tight cone. Large enough to scorch the log, but small enough to only trouble the warrior slightly. Elec then changed his focus once more, bringing a micro-blizzard of frost extinguishing the flames and leaving a thin layer of ice on the log. The frost soon melted in the late morning sun, and the frozen liquid turned acidic as it bubbled and hissed, scorching the log further.
Roderick shot a glance at Seraphine as he motioned for Elec to continue. As he began his next spell, the bard began a song of weird cadence and melody. The lyrics were hard to follow, but he realized that was the point. The song was meant to distract him from his casting, and for a second it had worked. Raising his hand again, the bit of wood rose as well, hovering above the splitting stump despite her attempt to disrupt the magic.
Roderick nodded at the display of power, control, and concentration. As Elec relaxed, he had barely registered the movement as he leaned away from the swordsman’s slash. Elec evaded two more strikes, fear beginning to overtake him. As a reflex, not one but two bolts of energy shot out from under his elbows, striking the warrior in the chest and halting his advance. Seraphine, equally surprised at the sudden melee, stopped playing. Two scorch marks darkened his shirt, and rings of chainmail showed through. For a moment, the warrior regarded him before looking at the superficial damage done to him. Elec stood, the dread in his actions dawning on him as he guarded his still-sore left side with his shaking arms.
“By Ilen, I…I’m sorry…I…” Elec began, but Roderick raised a hand to wave him off.
“No need for that. I wanted to see how you reacted under direct pressure.” The warrior replied, ignoring the damage to his shirt and chest. “I was expecting you to use your claws, however.”
Elec relaxed his stance with a sigh, though his hands would not be still. He wasn’t even staggered, he thought. He just stopped on his own. Like throwing pebbles at a mountain. Seraphine relaxed as well, slinging her lute once more.
“Well, Elec,” The swordsman said, his voice low and deliberate as he sheathed his sword, “you seem as capable as you are curious. The question is your conviction and how far you’re willing to go to see this through?”
Elec regarded the warrior and then the bard. Roderick had been holding back, but even if he had not reacted in time, Elec knew he would’ve had a wound or a scar to remind him of the moment. The warrior was a force of nature himself. Seraphine was a different matter. While he had met many other beautiful women, the bard carried herself with a confidence and an inner strength that far exceeded her small build. He could tell that both were very capable without him. The problem was that he couldn’t trust them fully. Not just yet. And he felt it was mutual. He looked at his right hand clutching his left side with shame, forcing himself to stand broad with his hands at his sides.
“The darkness that threatens this bay has reached all the way to my small island, placing it under the same danger. Now, I’m not gonna throw myself off a cliff…okay, I’ve actually done that…but I will not throw myself into insurmountable danger or certain death. I will, however, do everything I can to assist you two with solving this mystery.”
Roderick nodded and looked towards Seraphine. The warrior cocked his head, and she pushed off the logs and walked over to meet him.
*
Seraphine walked over to Roderick, who began walking as well. She figured he wanted to get out of earshot of the tiger-man, but they were halfway back to the town before he stopped. Roderick gave Elec an icy stare from the distance.
“You should’ve warned me you were going to test his reflexes as well. Are you alright?” She asked, reaching for her lute.
“There was no dodging or blocking that. That felt like being hit with an invisible war hammer. He used no words, nor waved his hands. Just the sudden impact of his magic. We’ll wait til we get back to the inn to deal with the bruising…”
“You already know I would like him to join us. What’s your reservation about the…the cat?” Seraphine asked.
“What do you know of the Rava’kin?”
The girl brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear with her left hand and thought for a moment.
“Not much at all. But have you heard the song, ‘The Heroes in the Vale’?” She asked, a smile on her face.
“No. Tell me.”
Seraphine excitedly snapped her fingers in a slow rhythm, humming a few notes and singing a very broken and forgotten song.
“…Their sails to the west…something, something…and if your lands are in peril…send word to the Heroes in the Vale.” She finished singing with a little frustration. “The original song described each one of the heroes, but I can’t hardly remember any of it. My father knew only a couple of verses of the song, but told me the story as best he could. It is a tale centuries old, older than my father even. Essentially, there was a tight-knit group of expert heroes who were often called upon to handle any evil at a moment’s notice. The problem was that eventually the heroes got old, and despite how many evils were killed, they were often replaced by even more evils. In the end, the group set sail due west until they found the furthest, most remote island and settled it. Anyway, I think he is the son of one of those heroes. And if so, we potentially have a very powerful ally.”
Roderick nodded, considering the lore, chewing on the inside of his lip. Seraphine watched as his brow relaxed a bit during the tale and knew that he was aware her knowledge of such obscure legends and lore was not without merit. Not entirely correct, perhaps, but never truly wrong.
“Here’s my take on our situation: I had heard stories of the Rava’kin when I still worked mercenary jobs in the east. The one that stuck out to me the most went something like this: There was a handpicked bunch of swordsmen hired to protect a noble somewhere in Amadiya. Two of them had been best friends since they were kids. One night, one friend falls deathly ill, but he recovers. However, he seems different. Changed. Then, three days later, he seems completely fine, back to his old self again. The swordsmen continued through their duties and conversations per usual until the friend went to give the daily update to the noble. The friend went to pat the noble on the shoulder and proceeded to slit the man’s throat with nothing more than his fingernails. His friend’s features became like that one over there as it fought off the entire company and disappeared into the city. The real friend’s body was recovered later after being dead for over a week.”
Seraphine’s smile faltered. Roderick’s tale stifled her initial excitement. Much like Roderick with her lore, she knew never to discredit the warrior whenever he had a story or knowledge of his own. Both regarded the Ravakin in the distance as he continued practicing his magic on the logs.
“The creature from your story hid itself. Elec has been walking this entire time freely. Either there is something different between him and the one from your story, or he is that good an actor. But I highly doubt it. You scared him, Roderick. He was already trembling in the Gull just recalling the battle with the sea serpents, but his hands were absolutely shaking when he defended himself against you. He had genuine honesty in his eyes when he apologized to you as well. From what I see, he’s being completely honest…but it might be a trick, like you said.”
“Maybe we can see it because we have seen our share of supernatural things. It might be part of its powers. A sort of magical…nonchalance.”
“I really don’t know about that. Regular wizards and the like have a hard time keeping illusions going once they are discovered, let alone cast additional spells. The question is more like ‘Why this sort of gambit’ then. It would be easier to take on the appearance of a random sailor and just play along to accomplish…what?”
Roderick and Seraphine looked back at the Rava’kin, who was now sitting on the stump watching them both talk.
“We need a mage in our group. With just the two of us, we barely escaped the catacombs alive, and his spells would have swiftly dispatched that murder cult. We’ve been lucky, Roderick. Damn lucky. I am not going to ignore what you said either, but I say we give him a chance. We keep an eye on him, and if he seems like he is not on the level, we give him the boot.”
The older warrior leaned back, crossing his arms as he thought for a moment.
“If he’s not on the level, he’ll be lucky if I do not end him immediately. Let’s sleep on it. In the meantime, I am going to need one of your healing songs, but not here. I don’t want him to see any sign of weakness from me. As long as he fears me as much as you say, he shouldn’t think to try anything funny.”
“So what do I tell him?” Seraphine asked, “We still don’t have a good lead yet.”
*
Two blasts, Elec thought to himself. I can do two now. I’m finally getting better at this. Stronger. He reflected on this as he rested now, having exhausted his power. He spent the last several minutes trying new feats and variations on the magic he knew. Experimenting. Crafting. Shaping. He was still a far cry from his father’s ability, but he saw firsthand that he was growing more powerful and capable of more sustained magic usage. Already he was planning evening exercises to better hone his magical abilities. Elec rubbed his sore shoulder and side, his mood darkening as he mentally reviewed their discussion of him.
The conversation between Roderick and Seraphine tempered the elation in his prowess. He forced himself to ignore the two travelers for as long as he could, but once he became drained from his casting, he began to focus, to concentrate, on them. He couldn’t hear their words, but he could sense their thoughts. It was among the several innate abilities of his kind, and one he used often when he remembered to do so. He couldn’t simply read their minds in their entirety, though. Not yet anyway. He could read what thoughts, emotions, and intentions were on the top-most of their minds at the moment. While it differed greatly from overhearing other folks’ conversations, it was not too different to discern. He was also great at using this ability amidst conversation to determine honesty and things being hidden from him. With a sigh, he clawed at the stump beneath him, the ache in his fingertips letting him know it was time to shed his claws. With a scratch and a pull at the bark underneath, the dull husks gave way to razor-sharp fresh nails.
Roderick saw him as a deceitful Child of Ravanna or Rava’kin. That much was present from their initial meeting, but carried over to his thoughts even now. While the display of power and control was what he was looking for in a fellow adventurer, he still viewed him as a civilized monster. Something to be kept at a distance, if kept at all. Seraphine was unaware of the history of his people, but willing to give him a chance, regardless. She seemed more open to his kind; that was until the warrior shared his information. Elec figured he had gone quite a suitable distance further than he thought he would, with no one raising any kind of alarm about his heritage. He found it welcoming that Pelavora seemed not to care that he stood apart, vastly different from the rest of the folk. I guess I was lucky, he thought, prodding a log with his foot.
He thought he had chosen the right group to approach, but now he was thinking otherwise. He had planned to join the mercenaries, but their leader, the scarred-faced lady, vanished after he saw her at the docks. Now he was stuck. The swordsman would kill him if he didn’t fall in line. The bard seemed decent enough, but now she had her doubts about him as well. He could strike out on his own, but Roderick’s skill showed yet again how quickly he could be overwhelmed, like in the battle with the sea serpents. Ilen, salva aen, he prayed, please be it I have made the right choice in folk to join. In that moment, he surprised himself, as he rarely, if ever, prayed.
“Hey.”
Elec looked up. Seraphine had walked most of the way back to him, her bright red hair catching the slight breeze from the coast. Behind her, Roderick marched back towards the town proper. Elec offered her a forced smile, but the Half-elf seemed to read his eyes.
“I take it you overheard us.” She said, looking at her feet.
Elec, his smile faltering, wobbled his hand to indicate ‘sort of’ while looking towards the patch of grass to the right of her.
“Well, we’ve agreed to bring you on if you’re still willing to join us. I’ll make no apologies for Roderick or the way he speaks. He is always overly cautious with the people we travel with, and we have had to throw in with some less savory sorts these last few months. Look, Elec, I’ve never heard of or met any of your kind…but I believe…that you’re being honest with us…and right now we’re your best bet to stop whatever is happening here from hurting more of your own people back home.”
Elec nodded, looking her in the eyes. Their color surprised him.
“We’re staying at the Seafarer’s Rest. It’s the pricier inn on the north end of town. You can meet us there in the morning for breakfast, or if we are still out, you can leave a note with the innkeeper. But I have to know up front: will you be joining us?”
“Yes,” Elec said after a long moment.
This time Seraphine let out a sigh, her shoulders dropping from the tension she had been holding in. Elec figured he had been so fixated on his disappointment that he didn’t notice her anxiety. His father would’ve scolded him for not continuing the mental observation, but it felt so impersonal. So impolite. Especially to do so to people you intend to befriend. That, and he could tell when someone was being honest with him even without the use of such abilities. The shine in her eyes when she looked up again told him everything. The honest recognition and connection made the interaction feel more valuable as well. She smiled and offered her hand, which he took as his smile returned.
“Roderick and I are going to look into some leads this afternoon and gather some supplies. I highly recommend you do the same. We will meet up tomorrow to see what we have been able to find out. Oh, and if you don’t have anything going on,” She continued, “I will be playing at the Seafarer’s Rest tonight. You’re more than welcome to join us.”
She squeezed his hand once more before turning to leave. Elec was glad no one else was out in the field or on the road to reprimand him for watching her go. The bard jogged all the way back to the warrior, who was in town by the time she caught up. He did have a few things he needed to see before the evening. One of which was a good bath. He had spent over a week at sea, had his shoulder torn open, only the healer’s knowledge of what was in his bandages, and had spent around ten minutes hurling magic at defenseless logs. The last thing he wanted to do was be around folks and smell worse than an unmucked barn. He waited for the two adventurers to disappear from view before he rose and walked back to town. The trip this time seemed a lot shorter as he made his way to the town square.
*
Seraphine helped Roderick out of his coat, mail, and shirt. A deep purple bruise darkened the majority of the warrior’s chest. He regarded the damage, painful yet superficial, in the polished metal mirror over her washbasin.
“So he’s still joining us tomorrow?” Roderick asked, taking a seat at the foot of her bed.
“Yes, though he overheard our conversation,” Seraphine said, adjusting the tune of her lute.
For her performance this evening, she had already washed and dressed. She tied her hair in a loose braid on one side, letting the tail hang over her shoulder. She tapped the tip of one finger against the face of her lute, a masterwork of craftsmanship, and played. The song she sang was ‘Eloimaya’, an Elvish piece he had heard her sing numerous times. The song was a beautiful ballad, but her mystical talent softened the pain, lessened the tension, eased the muscles, and when it hit that second verse, the magic welled up in him, and the purple and black of his bruising turned orange, the pooled blood around the impacted area being absorbed back into his body. Purple to orange, orange to yellow, and finally yellow to normal flesh. Eloimaya excelled at mending injuries, reviving those near death, and dealing with minor yet agonizing issues, such as the one he had recently endured from the Rava’kin. Anything beyond that required clerics or dedicated healers.
“How did he take it?”
Seraphine continued to play the melody despite the song having ended.
“He was hurt. Even I could see it, though he didn’t want to admit it. He respects you, you know. Sure, he stole some glances at me, but you are the reason he chose us over the mercenaries.”
“That just means he’s a bit smarter than they are and that he is younger than you…relatively speaking. I know little about the lifespan of Elves, Rava’kin, and everything in between, but he is not as mature as you, if you catch my meaning. Not as experienced, rather.”
The melody changed in pitch as Seraphine turned his words over in her head.
“I understand you. It also shows earnestness. Are you going to try to talk to the guild master tomorrow?”
Roderick stood and stretched, rolling his shoulders.
“We have to…The captain was rather quick to dismiss us. I think the mercenaries might’ve stopped in and aggravated him severely while we were playing swords and spells in the field. I’d hate to admit it, but that cat knows more than he offered, and he might be the only other lead we have.”
Seraphine nodded, playing the tune for a little while longer.
*
“You need a room for the night, Elec?” Tilda asked, “Sorry for the noise. A couple more ships have come in. A nice room, you said? Well, we’ve got a few left that aren’t too expensive, but they’re still private and comfortable. You’re looking at about three silver for the night, and that’ll get you a bed, a little privacy, and some peace for only a few hours of rest at the rate this lot tends to let up. You’re lucky too, ledgers filling up fast this evening.”
“I’ll do two nights for now.” Elec says, giving her the coin, “Is there a place where I can get a hot bath?”
At the mention of a bath, her face softened, and she tilted her head. She finished writing his information into the ledger before meeting his gaze once more.
“As for a bath… Well, you’re in luck again. There’s a small bathhouse just outside town. It’s nothing terribly fancy, but it’s hot water, some nice-smelling stuff, and a good soak. Two to three silver should get you a decent bath, and it’s always available as long as you’re willing to walk there. If you’re looking for something…a little closer, I can have the tub filled for you in the washroom here. Won’t be quite the same as a proper bathhouse…but uh…it’ll do the trick.”
Elec gave the barmaid a warm smile. While Roderick’s take on his heritage had hurt his mood, Tilda and the rest of the town did not seem to pay him any mind. On the contrary, he felt even more welcome after coming back from the field. He felt relieved that such a wrong sort of recognition was only a limited thing so far.
“Well, I’ve a mind to use the tub here, but I think I’ll save it for a later, maybe quieter evening,” Elec said, feeling much more himself. “Can you tell me where I can find the bathhouse?”
Tilda smiled back, her eyes bright with amusement.
“It’s just a short walk out of town. Head toward the eastern edge, and you’ll see the sign by the road. It’s hard to miss, and it’s worth the walk if you want the full experience. But like I said, if you’re in a hurry…I can have a tub filled up for you here. It’s not quite the same as the bathhouse, but the company might be just as warm.”
“Thank you, Tilda,” Elec said with a wink, “I’ll be back in a few.”
Tilda gave him a wink in return, a playful smile on her lips as she watched him head out.
“Enjoy, Elec. We’ll be here.”
The sounds of the bustling streets and the faint calls of merchants and townsfolk fill the air more than before, but there’s a palpable sense of change as the day winds down. Elec first made his way toward the Mariner’s Guildhall, which stood prominently at the far side of the square.
The guildhall was a sturdy stone structure, larger than most buildings in Pelavora, with maritime symbols carved into the walls and a weathered, sea-worn banner fluttering above the entrance. To Elec, it was a symbol of the town’s reliance on the sea. A few sailors milled about outside, chatting with each other or cleaning their gear, and a handful of men and women passed by on their way to or from the docks, most with a determined or weary air about them.
As Elec approached the large double doors, he noticed the guildhall was bustling with activity within, many sailors, dockhands, and merchants coming and going almost constantly. As the door swung open with a low creak, Elec stepped inside to find the sounds of voices from within quite noisy, as everyone tried to talk over one another. The interior was dimly lit but warm. The air smelled of salt, wood, ale, and other choice drinks. Nautical charts, ship models, and old, faded paintings of Pelavora’s history decorated the walls. Captain Jorn stood over the largest of the polished desks, the only one no one approached directly. He looked up from his paperwork with an air of aggravation.
“For the last time, I have not heard any news…Ah, Elec, what brings you to our humble guildhall, lad? Do you need something from the sea? Or are you here for news on the missing ship, too, eh?”
“Yes, I am of sorts, but first…Forgive me, I didn’t know you were the Guild Master of Pelavora.”
“It’s not something I like to go on about when at sea. I like to be focused on one job at a time. Administrative paperwork and logbook updating here. Freedom and the open waters out there.”
Elec showed the signet ring the sailor had given him a few days ago.
“Regardless, I apologize for misleading you before. My father did not send me here to find expensive books for our family’s library. I have the duty to report the Waveshear’s wreckage on the coast of Hinterson’s Vale. It washed up not but a couple of miles from my parents’ ranch.”
The news seemed to shock the older man. Captain Jorn eased into his seat and placed both hands over his face, breathing deeply as if to clear his thoughts. He removed them, sitting up straighter before he continued. His eyes showed a deep, growing weariness as he spoke.
“First the Silver Drake and now the Waveshear?! I didn’t even know she was still sailing, let alone anywhere near Hinterson’s Vale,” He swore, his words low and measured against the surrounding noise.
“You know of the ship?”
“The Waveshear was a merchant vessel, but it was no ordinary one. She had a reputation. Her captain, a man named Karst Varrow, was known to take on…unconventional cargo, let’s say. Magical artifacts, rare relics, things most traders wouldn’t dare touch. Some whispered he was tied to smuggling, others said he dealt with shady sorcerers or worse. He always managed to keep just on the right side of the law, though, and his ship was fast, even faster than most raiders could catch. If you found the wreckage of the Waveshear, then something big must’ve happened. No mere storm or serpent could bring it down. And if Captain Varrow’s signet ring ended up in your hands, then he didn’t survive.
“Captain Irvette Lira of the Silver Drake and Varrow were good friends, according to stories. Lovers even, but their choices and the seas pulled them apart. They remained good friends and would help each other the moment word got around…like the word the other captains were spreading months ago…‘The fog is clearing to the South’…Never mind all that.
“Last I heard, the Silver Drake was supposed to be hauling cargo down from the northern coast, and it was due here a few days ago. Her vessel often patrolled for pirates and smugglers, being equipped to match the Waveshear in armament and defenses. No one knows exactly what happened, but the fact that they’re hiring mercenaries tells me it wasn’t a simple storm or navigational error. That ship was carrying something valuable, and the crew’s disappearance…Well, that doesn’t sit right with me. Now it seems that mercenaries, adventurers, and even you have taken an interest in it.”
The captain leaned back in his chair, folding his arms once more.
“Just be careful, Elec. There are a lot of strange things going on around here, and you don’t want to find yourself tangled in something bigger than you’re ready for.”
“I will, and I am in the talks of joining the adventurers: a swordsman and his bard friend,” Elec began, rubbing his left shoulder. “They seem like good folk, but have reservations about…my heritage.”
“I would be lying if I said I didn’t have reservations of my own about you at first, Elec,” Jorn said. “You aren’t exactly common, even for Hinterson’s Vale. I knew your family name well enough, but not them personally. However, despite being the local equivalent of royalty, you made an effort to show that you were worth your salt, not just to me, but to the crew primarily. Captain Brunaulf told me about your dealing with the smugglers, and I would be a fool to ignore you taking the front line with the sea serpents as well.”
“That was a mistake…” He said.
Elec cast his eyes downward as the hand against his shoulder trembled.
“A calculated and well thought out mistake. You set the conditions of that battle to better protect yourself and the crew as best you knew how. We were all surprised at the size of those creatures. However misguided, you stood and fought. Luck or misfortune may have drawn the creatures to you, but regardless, the act kept my crew safe from something that was meant to sink the Sea Sprinter. And most importantly, your actions saved the life of that stranded sailor. Regardless of your feline heritage, that means you are a member of my crew…more than that. You have my respect, Elec, which is why I stopped working to hear you out.”
For the moment, Elec wished he could do or say something to better acknowledge such respect. Especially after the indirect scything he received just a little while ago. Though he reckoned Captain Jorn could see this, Elec wished he could articulate it properly.
“Well, I will try to trouble you only a little bit further. The two I mentioned,” Elec begins, “I do intend to travel with them. Do you mind if I bring them over here to vouch for me…and to give a bit of assurance from you? I will lay out the entirety of my plan with you and them.”
“Aye, lad. That I can do and more. But it’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning. We have been at sea for nearly a month this leg, Hinterson’s Vale being the longest run of it. The crew and I need a little bit of a breather, and I have word that the bard your swordsman travels with is very talented and is playing the Seafarer tonight.” Captain Jorn said. “After the excitement from this leg, quite a few of us want to fully enjoy at least one night to ourselves before the next series of intrigues. Anything else?”
“What about the survivor from the rowboat? Has he regained consciousness?” Elec asked, “I may have a strong lead on the Silver Drake, but the survivor is the only one who could possibly confirm my suspicions.”
Captain Jorn’s expression shifted at the mention of the rowboat survivor. His crossed arms tightened while he drew in a long breath, his gaze turning more serious as he leaned forward on his desk. He too seemed to piece together more and more of the mysteries as Elec unveiled more of his findings.
“Ah, the survivor, yes,” Jorn muttered, his tone guarded. “He’d been below deck for a while, but I’ve heard he’s still unconscious. My lady, Tialha’s been tending to him, but no one’s been able to get him to come around just yet. The poor bastard looked half-dead when they pulled him up, and the state of that rowboat…well, we know it wasn’t just tossed about by a storm.”
He paused, glancing down at the map before looking back at Elec.
“Word around town is that they found no other sign of his crew. Just our one survivor, and not much else. No bodies. No wreckage beyond the rowboat. It doesn’t add up.”
Jorn leaned back, the chair creaking as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“As for the survivor, he’s been in and out of consciousness. He’s not saying much, though. The little he has said is all jumbled…keeps mumbling, but nothing solid or coherent. No one’s gotten a clear answer yet.”
He looked up at Elec, his expression darkening.
“If you’re planning to speak with him, I can get you access to the infirmary, but don’t expect much. The man’s been through hell, and whatever he saw out there, it’s got him rattled. Could be dangerous to push too hard, but I reckon you’ve got a better shot at figuring out what happened than most.”
“Thank you, Captain Jorn,” Elec said.
“Thank you, Master Miraelavar. I’m certain your father’d be proud to see you handling things out here on the mainland. Like a proper, seasoned adventurer.” Captain Jorn concluded, returning to his paperwork.
Elec stepped out of the Mariner’s Guildhall into the cool evening air, the bustle of the square beginning to quiet as the sun dipped lower on the horizon. The directions to the healer’s quarters were easy enough, as Captain Jorn had mentioned they were located just off the docks, in a modest building used to treat injured sailors and townsfolk.
