"In the alpine and rocky lands, where secrets whisper in the wind, a journey begins, a path yet unknown, where fate and destiny intertwine, and the unknown beckons to those who dare to seek it. "
~ Ayden Gane, High Magister of Ark's Archive, 32nd Empire.
"SAIL HO! SAIL HO!" bellowed a sailor from a ship that had just departed from the desolate docks, a massive wooden vessel adorned with a black sail bearing the banner of an insect skull entwined with a spear.
"Have any of you lads collected the remainder of the payment from our passenger?" inquired an elf with a voice that was simultaneously gentle and resolute, addressing one of his crewmen.
"Not yet, cap'n! We're all occupied tending to this fine ship of yours!" replied the crewman, his decaying teeth eliciting an amused reaction from the dark elf.
The Lav'phyris surveyed his ship from the vantage point of his deck. "Very well then, I shall retrieve the payment myself. Perform your duties diligently, and you shall be duly rewarded, lads!"
"Aye, aye, cap'n!" responded the crewman, saluting with a hand pressed firmly against his forehead, reminiscent of a soldier hailing from distant shores they were set to reach in a matter of days.
This vessel, known as the Old Bitch or Ald Jab in the elven tongue, belonged to a renowned sailor, Captain Drevyn Llerthi. He had traversed the breadth of Kania, from the rugged lands of High Reach, where they were about to set upon, to the beautiful yet desolate white forest of Mira, home to the forest people. He dared to admit that he yearned for his homeland, the forsaken ashen land of Nirvaen, east of the Imperial Capital. Although decades had passed since he last set foot there, it seemed the place held little sway over his heart. Most Lav'phyris had sought refuge in the frozen lands of Vanar when the Ash Mountain erupted for the second time over a century ago.
Drevyn set forth to collect the payment from the passenger who had availed himself of his services to traverse the treacherous Iliac Sea. It appeared that, empire or no empire, the continent of Kania remained a war-torn realm, yet it also retained an enchanting allure, where the beauty of a song and the delicacy of poetry intertwined. Such was the land of war and poetry.
"Good morrow, serah. Pray, deliver unto us the remaining silver coins owed, a sum of no less than two hundred," Drevyn greeted with a smile, his gaze falling upon a Sarkai woman cradling her infant in a makeshift sling.
The Sarkai's eyes darted nervously, seeking solace in the surroundings. "Forgive me, Captain, but I lack the means to fulfill the debt," she stammered. "B-b-but I assure you, muthserjo, once we make landfall, I shall toil as a maid in the nearest town and repay you in due time. Please, believe me. My name is Nweei."
Drevyn's mind traveled back to a time of great turmoil, when Athum City was ravaged by the cataclysmic fall of Daar Tua. He recalled the desperation in his mother's eyes as they sought passage on a ship to escape their home. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, mingling his memories with an empathetic understanding.
"Very well, Nweei. Fret not over this matter," he declared, his crimson eyes locking onto hers. "Ensure that both you and your babe are nourished and cared for upon our arrival. If the fare from the ship's galley proves beyond your means, do not hesitate to seek me out." His smile offered reassurance, a silent understanding passing between them.
"Thank you, muthserjo! Thank you ever so much!" Nweei exclaimed with heartfelt gratitude, but Drevyn gently pressed a finger to his lips. "May Ahur-kal bless the trails you traded on."
"Our pact remains between us alone," he whispered, nodding before departing to collect the payments from the other passengers, leaving the Argonian and her child to their own devices.
Captain Drevyn Llerthi stood on the deck, facing the vast expanse of the Iliac Sea. The wind whipped through his hair as he meticulously counted the coins in his hands, his gaze fixed upon the shimmering blue horizon. A member of his crew approached, a weathered Redguard with lines etched upon his dark skin.
"Cap'n, the sails be steady and the winds favor us. It seems the Father has smiled upon our voyage," the crewman with a brown skin-toned remarked with a hearty laugh, his voice carrying the distinct cadence of his people back in the dunes.
"Mayhaps, lad," the Captain replied, a glimmer of anticipation in his eyes. "Once we reach our destination. We will go straight to Preis in the north, we shall seek out the fine wines rumored to be sold at a bargain when purchased in abundance. But first, let us attend to the matter of the payment." Drevyn recounted the coins, his fingers deftly moving over the golden currency. "Twenty passengers, six thousand silver coins," he mused aloud, handing the pouch to his crewman. "I have entrusted the task of counting to the paymistress, to ensure accuracy."
The Perreldian crewman's face contorted in confusion. "But, Captain, there be twenty-one passengers aboard," he interjected. "Kesnov, he tallied 'em earlier."
Drevyn's brow furrowed, a flicker of concern crossing his features. He had been meticulous in collecting the payments, ensuring not a single soul was missed. "Where is this missing passenger, Lekk?" he inquired, his voice tinged with a hint of urgency.
Lekk scratched his head, his confusion palpable. "I ain't rightly sure, cap'n. Should I ask him?"
"Nay, I shall handle this matter myself," Drevyn declared, his determination unwavering. "The day is long, and you must conserve your strength. Where might I find the Normen?"
"Most likely in the kitchen, lending a hand to the cooks as is his wont," Lekk answered, nodding in understanding before taking his leave. Drevyn's mind raced with possibilities as he made his way towards the ship's kitchen. Something was amiss.
Captain Drevyn descended into the bowels of the ship, where the air hung heavy with dampness and the stench of decay. The mingling scents of the sea and unwashed bodies were a bitter reminder of the love-hate relationship he harbored for the life of a sailor. He pressed on, his footsteps echoing through the dimly lit passageways, until he reached the ship's kitchen.
Within, Kesnov, the loyal and ever-curious crewman, assisted the cooks Oar and Biter, two Drakar, or simply Orcs, whose culinary prowess had surprised Drevyn when he first encountered them in Sevrus. The sight of a Drakari capable of conjuring delectable dishes had been an unexpected delight.
"Ey, ey, boys! Look who's graced us with his presence!" Kesnov boomed, his voice carrying the excitement of a child.
"It is our esteemed and well-fed captain!" Oar responded, his voice rumbling with a touch of humor.
Drevyn raised a hand in acknowledgment. "At ease, lads. I've come to speak with Kesnov."
"What is it, my mighty captain?" Kesnov inquired, his tone tinged with curiosity.
Drevyn plucked a piece of bread from the table and took a bite. As he chewed, his mind focused on the matter at hand. "Lekk informed me that you discovered an additional passenger. Where is he? We were meant to take only twenty souls on this voyage, not twenty-one."
"Oh, aye, forgive me, cap'n," Kesnov replied, his face lighting up with recollection. "I was unaware of the count, but he offered a considerable sum as payment, so I allowed him aboard. The coins have already been handed over to the paymistress, so there's no need to worry."
Drevyn sighed, his hand coming to rest on his forehead. "It's not the coins that concern me, Kez. In these troubled times, we cannot afford to be careless when it comes to accepting passengers. Especially on a journey to High Reach, where turmoil reigns. We mustn't risk our necks by unwittingly harboring someone who could bring danger upon us. Do you understand?"
"Ah, I see now, cap'n. I apologize," Kesnov pouted, his understanding dawning.
"I could lend a hand, cap'n," Biter interjected, his deep voice resonating. "This lost passenger may be wary of encountering a Drakar."
Drevyn shook his head, his red eyes filled with determination. "Nay, lads. Focus on your duties and let me handle this matter. Violence has no place aboard my ship. Kez, where can I find this man?"
Suddenly, Kesnov winced, his finger sliced by a sharp knife. "Aw, damn it," he groaned, followed by the hearty laughter of Oar and Biter.
"Be more careful, old boy," Drevyn chided, a smile tugging at his lips.
"Apologies, cap'n. Well...that man, he appears to be a Bretan under his hood. With deep, dim green and blue eyes I've never seen the likes of before. He preferred solitude and asked to remain in the cargo hold," Kesnov explained.
A hooded Reacher, concealed within the cargo hold. Drevyn's instincts tingled with a sense of foreboding. "Very well, tend to that cut, lad. I shall venture there myself."
"Aye, aye, cap'n!" The trio exclaimed in unison, their voices resolute.
As Captain Drevyn made his way toward the cargo hold, a sense of intrigue and trepidation filled the air. The presence of this mysterious passenger promised to unveil secrets and potential dangers that lay hidden within the ship's belly. With each step, he steeled himself for the encounter that awaited, ready to face the enigma beneath the hood.
He ventured into the depths of the cargo hold, a cavernous space brimming with a myriad of goods, from exotic spices to gleaming weapons and armor destined for sale upon their arrival. The Old Bitch, his beloved ship, held a special place in his heart, surpassing even the love he bore for his own kin.
There, amidst the crates and barrels, sat the hooded High Reacher, his gaze fixed upon the window that offered a view of the ship's wake. The man seemed to relish his solitude, but Drevyn, feigning a cough, caught his attention. The Bretan's reflexes were unnerving, his head swiveling towards him with an alarming swiftness, akin to a wolf honing in on its prey.
"Pardon the interruption, serjo. Are you one of my passengers?" Drevyn inquired, maintaining a courteous demeanor.
"I am," the Bretan simply replied, his voice as soft as falling snow, yet sending a chill down Drevyn's spine.
"Well, I believe you would find greater solace on the deck above, where you can bask in the wind and weather. The blessings of the Father have graced this voyage," Drevyn suggested, his smile warm and inviting.
"I do not relish the company of others," the Bretan retorted, his voice growing colder.
Drevyn pursed his lips, contemplating his next words. "I am aware that you have paid more than the required fare, akin to my other passengers. Hence, I wish to offer you a more comfortable abode aboard my vessel."
The Bretan's gaze locked with Drevyn's, his dim green and blue eyes captivating the captain's crimson orbs. There was something unsettling about them—so full of life, yet simultaneously devoid of it. In all his five decades of existence, Drevyn Llerthi had never encountered such an enigma.
Drevyn swallowed hard, his throat dry. "I apologize if I have overstepped, but as you are well aware, High Reach is in a precarious state. Bandits, reavers, corsairs, Highlanders, and even the Drakari from Zor Drakgarn plague the land, which is still recovering from the ravages of the recent war, six years past." His hands trembled inexplicably, and he hid them behind his back. "Do you comprehend the gravity of my words, muthserjo?"
"I do," the Bretan replied, rising to his feet. He stood as tall as Drevyn, with a powerful build reminiscent of a seasoned warrior. The hooded man reminded him of the Ordinators back in his homeland. "I pose no threat."
"That is... reassuring to hear," Drevyn breathed a sigh of relief, a smile breaking across his face. "Would you care to accompany me above deck? Witness the vastness of the sea and embrace the caress of the wind?"
The Bretan removed his hood, revealing a face no older than twenty, yet bearing the weight of experiences beyond Drevyn's comprehension. His dim green and blue eyes, simultaneously lifeless and alive, peered out from his visage. There was an undeniable allure to the man, yet something elusive lurked beneath the surface.
"I... would like that," the Bretan replied, his voice now warmer, as if accepting the captain's presence.
"Excellent, excellent. It pleases me greatly to hear that, muthserjo. But, if I may inquire, what is your name?" Drevyn asked, his curiosity piqued.
For a fleeting moment, he hesitated, as if reluctant to divulge his name. "Cade. My name is Cade," he finally answered.
Drevyn's smile widened, a glimmer of satisfaction in his crimson ashes eyes. "Very well, Cade muthserjo. Let us ascend to the deck together." With a sweeping motion of his hand, he beckoned the enigmatic passenger to join him in the realm of wind and waves.
Upon the upper deck, the wind whipped through their hair as both men stood, savoring the exhilaration of the moment. Drevyn observed the young man, noting how he seemed to relish the experience, his short, dark brown hair impeccably groomed. From his appearance alone, one could surmise that he was no ordinary traveler, but rather an anointed knight, bearing both handsomeness and a formidable physique.
"Are you enjoying the moment?" Drevyn broke the silence, his words carried by the breeze.
Cade inhaled deeply, his eyes still closed. "I am. You have my gratitude, Captain...?"
Drevyn chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. "Forgive my lapse in introductions. I am Captain Drevyn Llerthi. I have sailed these seas for nearly all my life." His smile conveyed a wealth of experience.
"Thank you, Captain Llerthi," Cade nodded, his gaze returning to the vast expanse of the sea.
Drevyn's curiosity got the better of him. "Have you ever been to High Reach before?" he asked, his voice tinged with intrigue.
Cade studied him for a moment, his green and blue eyes filled with an enigmatic gleam. "I was informed that the sailors aboard this vessel refrain from asking questions."
Intriguing. Could this young man be a noble in hiding? Or perhaps an exiled knight seeking to reclaim his place in his homeland? Drevyn's mind raced with possibilities, yet he sensed no imminent danger from either scenario.
"Forgive me, I have no intention of prying into your affairs. I merely wished to apprise you of the tumultuous events that have unfolded in the rocky land of your people, your kin," Drevyn reassured him, his smile warm and reassuring.
"Yes... It is my first time," Cade replied, his hand resting on the weathered wood of the ship.
First time? A Bretan unfamiliar with his own homeland? That ruled out the possibility of him being an exiled knight. Only one conclusion remained: Cade was a noble on the run. But from what? Drevyn's curiosity burned brighter.
"Ah, I see. It must be quite an experience to return to your homeland for the first time. I, myself, have not set foot in mine for decades, and I can't say I've missed it either. The land has been naught but a desolate wasteland strewn with ashes." Drevyn chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. "But if you don't mind my asking, Cade muthserjo, why embark on this journey amidst the turmoil? Have you not heard of the recent events that have befallen High Reach?"
"No... I have not," Cade replied, his tone once again tinged with an icy chill. Yet beneath the cold facade, Drevyn sensed a flicker of curiosity.
Uncrossing his arms, Drevyn leaned forward. "Well, would you like me to enlighten you, young man?" he offered, his eyes brimming with knowledge.
Cade gazed at him, then turned his attention back to the sea. After a moment's contemplation, he looked back at the captain and nodded in agreement.
"As I mentioned earlier, High Reach was still reeling from the recent war that tore through its lands," Drevyn began, his voice carrying the weight of history. "They called it the Covenant War if my old mind is correct, a tumultuous conflict fueled by the numerous covenants not only among the noble houses, but also the Highlanders and the Drakari. The destruction it wrought was...devastating. It only came to an end when their king fell in the final battle, but the scars of that war still linger to this day."
Cade's curiosity sparked once more, his tone warmer and filled with questions. "Which kingdom are you referring to, Captain? High Reach is home to many kingdoms. Are you speaking of the Kingdom of Daenia, led by King Laesander Cousan?"
Drevyn's mind reeled for a moment. By the moons of Zur, this young man seemed to be unfamiliar with the unification of High Reach that had occurred three decades prior. "No, muthserjo," Drevyn replied, his tone filled with a mix of surprise and concern. "The Kingdom of Daenia only held sway over the western and central regions of the land. The kingdom you mentioned fell over five centuries ago." Cade's eyes widened at the revelation, his gaze drifting back to the vast expanse of the sea. "I was referring to the Bretany Kingdom, where a single nobleman managed to unite the fragmented and quarrelsome people of High Reach into a single kingdom. From Daenia to Averne, they became one."
"Who is their king?" Cade inquired, his grip on the ship's railing tightening.
Drevyn met his gaze, his voice laden with significance. "King Ertur Lionith, First of His Name," he declared. "He hails from Daenia, the very duchy we are bound for. Specifically, we are headed to Seafarer Rest, a port town ruled by House Cannen, one of House Lionith's vassals and loyal bannermen."
Drevyn observed a sudden change in Cade's expression, from disinterest to keen interest. Yet, an unsettling feeling gnawed at the captain's instincts. How could this young man be unaware of the Bretany Kingdom, the unification of the Bretans, a race notorious for their internal strife and conflicts? Where had he been living, so removed from the knowledge that had shaped the realm? Drevyn's curiosity mingled with caution, for there was more to this enigmatic passenger than met the eye.
"In High Reach, there existed eight duchies, stretching from the rugged western reaches to the farthest reaches of the east," Drevyn began, his voice carrying the weight of knowledge. "Let me elucidate upon them, if you wish."
Cade nodded eagerly, his eyes fixed on the Captain, hungry for the lore of the land. "Please, continue," he urged.
"Let us begin from the westernmost point, where the Duchy of Daenia resided," Drevyn commenced, his voice carrying a hint of reminiscence. "It was a place of unparalleled beauty and diversity, a land ruled by House Lionith, the very royal house that held sway over the entire kingdom. Daenia was a sight to behold, its landscapes captivating the souls of all who set foot upon its soil."
Drevyn's gaze shifted as he continued, "Adjacent to Daenia lay the Duchy of Camire, governed by House Lionel. Legends whispered that the Lionels had their origins intertwined with House Lionith, distant kin in some way. Camire boasted a terrain of sprawling plains in the west, gradually giving way to rolling hills to the east. The tales and rumors that emanated from the people of Cambria were as varied as the landscape itself."
His voice took on a somber tone as he spoke of the next duchy. "Venturing further east, one would encounter the Duchy of Verandia, a land as treacherous as it was unforgiving. Its jagged terrain harbored hostile creatures that defied the very essence of life. Yet, against all odds, House Varell reigned over this desolate realm, their mastery of magic serving as a testament to their resilience. The secrets of their prosperity, however, remained shrouded in mystery for me."
Drevyn paused, contemplating the next duchy. "Now, the Duchy of Boralis on the most northern point of the land, once ruled by a rebellious house who dared to defy the established order. House Sicarus, an Sevarran nobility, had taken control of the duchy, after the kingdom quelled the rebellion and asserted their authority. The names of those involved in this tumultuous transition escape me, for the winds of change blow swiftly in these lands." But before he could continue, one of his crewmen approached him.
"Cap'n, have I disturbed you?" she inquired with an innocent tone.
Drevyn's irritation was palpable as he responded, "Well, you hadn't, but now you have. What is it, lass?"
Her voice carried a hint of nervousness as she relayed her message, "Just wanted to inform you that the payment in coins has been counted by Midame Malie. She requested me to let you know. Oh, and she is also waiting below in your cabin for lunch."
"Of course she did. That's why she's the paymistress," Drevyn retorted, his patience wearing thin. "Now, be off and attend to your duties. Earn your keep!" The girl swiftly retreated, leaving the old Captain to cast a fleeting glance at Cade, who remained lost in contemplation, his gaze fixated upon the endless expanse of the Iliac Sea.
"Apologies," Drevyn interjected, his tone softened. "Where were we? Ah, yes. Let us proceed to the Duchy of Gavaden, renowned for its opulence and overflowing coffers. They hold dominion over the vital trade routes that stretch not only across the land but also extend to the western reaches of this continent. Rumor has it that House Evrard, the ruling lords of this duchy, has been amassing a formidable fleet. For what purpose, I cannot say, but mark my words, such ventures seldom bode well."
His laughter echoed through the air as he continued, "Now, let us venture to the heart of the land, where the Duchy of Evenfall stands. It boasts the most fertile grounds, making it the primary supplier of sustenance for the realm. House Graylocks, known for their unwavering adherence to honor and truth, holds sway over this duchy. A noble trait indeed, though it can prove stubborn in the face of shifting tides. Their stubbornness is matched only by the richness of their lands."
A saddened glint danced in Drevyn's eyes as he moved on, his voice taking on a more somber note. "Next, we find ourselves in the Duchy of Helkarth, nestled amidst the treacherous mountainous terrains where the Highlanders of the Reach mostly dwell. Yet, despite the harsh environment, the lands yield bountiful harvests, making it an ideal location for herding cattles. House Montllier, descendants of my own kind, the Lav'phyris if my instincts serve me right, rule over this duchy with a ferocious and martial spirit."
Finally, he unveiled the most elusive and enigmatic of them all. "And lastly, we come to House Yvtir, the elusive and mysterious noble house that presides over the mountainous expanse of the eastern Duchy of Averne. When I speak of mountains, do not conjure images of ordinary peaks. High Reach earned its name for a reason, and the towering majesty of Averne is no exception. The Yvtir shrouds themselves in secrecy, their true nature and intentions veiled from prying eyes."
"All eight of those duchies, once divided and in constant conflict, were forged into a single kingdom by the will of a solitary man three decades past," Drevyn explained, his voice filled with a hint of intrigue. "Such is the tumultuous history of Kania, for the Brets have always been known to quarrel amongst themselves. High Reach now stands united, yet its grip on power falters since the untimely demise of the king six years hence. But my hope lies in the safety and stability of the realm under the rule of her sole progeny, Princess Elsbeth Lionith, who presently serves as the Regent, guided by the counsel of her Small Council."
"A regent, you say? Why not a queen? She is, after all, the daughter of the late king," Cade inquired, his face a canvas of curiosity.
"That is a tale as convoluted as the winding paths of the Reach," Drevyn replied, a wry smile playing upon his lips. "I cannot fathom the intricacies myself. What I do know is that the Bretony Kingdom is no ordinary realm, for it comprises the Seven Great Noble Houses of High Reach."
"Hmm... I see," Cade mused, his dim eyes now shining with heightened interest, much like a wolf spying its prey.
"Enough with the pleasantries, muthserjo," Captain Drevyn spoke, his voice laced with a hint of intrigue. "The day grows weary, and I must inquire, have you broken your fast? If not, would you care to join me and my crew in the sanctum of my cabin?"
Cade regarded him with a lingering gaze, his fingers loosening their grip on the weathered ship's railing. "Why extend such kindness to a mere passenger aboard your vessel, Captain Llerthi? Especially to a stranger."
This lad possesses a keen mind, thought Drevyn, his curiosity now burning brighter, wondering if this youth with eyes of dead emerald and sapphire harbored secrets of nobility or something far more sinister.
A warm yet disingenuous laugh escaped Drevyn's lips. "As I've mentioned afore, Cade Muthserjo, your purse weighs heavier than those of the other passengers, warranting a touch of special treatment. Fear not, I have no inclination to bring harm upon you."
With a nod of acquiescence, the young man followed the captain's lead. "Excellent!" Drevyn exclaimed, his voice resonating with a mix of authority and anticipation. "Please, this way below deck."
They traversed the ship's weathered planks, descending into the depths of Captain Drevyn Llerthi's cabin. Within its confines, a treasure trove of artifacts adorned the walls, each hailing from the rugged lands of High Reach, where their voyage would soon take them. From there, they would venture forth to the formidable yet enigmatic realm of the Lav'lenal, the sun elves of Lan'arren, or Last Chance in human tongue.
Drevyn gestured for Cade to take a seat upon one of the chairs, already occupied by five members of his loyal crew, their weathered faces revealing tales of countless voyages. "Lads and lasses," Drevyn announced, his gaze sweeping over his trusted companions, "allow me to introduce Cade, our most esteemed passenger. I implore you all to treat him with the utmost respect until we make a berth at Seafarer Rest in the days to come." A warm smile graced his lips as he regarded his crew, their loyalty unquestioned.
Amidst the shared meal, the crew bombarded Cade with a barrage of questions, their curiosity piqued like ravens drawn to a fresh carcass. Uncomfortable under their probing gazes, Cade's furrowed brows and guarded expressions did not go unnoticed by the astute Captain Llerthi. The young man possessed eyes as lifeless as the frozen tundras of Vanar, and a personality that rivaled the dullness of a weathered plank. Even conversing with a plank would prove more stimulating than engaging with this enigmatic passenger, he amused.
Among the crew, Keznov, a spirited young Nord who had vouched for Cade's passage aboard the Old Bitch, displayed an eagerness unmatched by his shipmates. He probed further, inquiring about Cade's origins, to which the enigmatic passenger offered a cryptic response, "Celorn." A mere mention of the vicinity of it, a city nestled in the rocky desert terrain, hinted at his point of departure.
Yet, as Drevyn observed the interactions between Cade and his crew, he failed to discern any telltale signs of a noble on the run. If the young man harbored noble blood, what could possibly compel him to return to the tumultuous lands of High Reach? Drevyn knew that the Bretan Noble Houses were not confined solely to their homeland, but were scattered across the continent as far as he knew, that is. It defied reason for one to venture back to the rugged alpine lands, especially considering the state of turmoil that plagued the region.
Something was amiss. Drevyn's thoughts meandered through the labyrinth of possibilities, searching for a reason behind this young man's presence. However, his musings were abruptly interrupted by the ship's paymistress, summoning him away from his contemplation.
Malie, her delicate hands clutching the cup of wine she had just imbibed, broached the matter at hand. "I've tallied the gold, and it appears to be sufficient for the number of passengers. Are you still intent on procuring that 'cheap' wine from Preis, Drevyn?" Her voice held a hint of skepticism.
"Aye, that will suffice. If we can secure at least fifty barrels of that 'cheap' wine from Preis, we shall reap profits aplenty in the moons to come," Drevyn reassured her. Malie, ever vigilant in calculating the ship's expenditures, had always been meticulous when it came to procuring goods for resale.
She shook her head, savoring another sip of the wine. "As you wish, Captain Llerthi. But ensure that this decision of yours yields the desired profits. We can ill afford any further losses, unless you plan to part with your cherished artifacts or reduce your crew's wages."
Drevyn's smile remained unwavering as he responded, his words laced with confidence. "Fear not, Malie. With you as the astute paymistress of the Old Bitch, we shall weather any storm that comes our way."
"Unless, of course, a tempest of epic proportions looms on the horizon, Cap'n!" Lekk interjected, his voice booming with mirth, eliciting laughter from the crew and a soft giggle from Malie. Drevyn's gaze shifted toward the young man, who displayed no trace of a smile, but rather an air of bewilderment that piqued the captain's interest further.
With the conclusion of the lunchtime gathering, the crew dispersed from the room, each returning to their respective duties aboard the ship. Cade, his lifeless eyes seemed to exude a subtle sense of satisfaction, a notion that did not escape Drevyn's perceptive mind. The captain's eagerness to unravel the enigma that was this stranger only grew stronger, despite his instinctual belief that the young man posed danger.
In a courteous manner, Drevyn extended an offer to Cade, suggesting a room below deck instead of the cramped confines of the cargo hold. The proposition was met with acceptance, as long as he would not be disturbed during the journey ahead. The captain readily agreed, leading the way to the designated quarters.
The room that awaited Cade was modest, its dimensions cramped and its atmosphere perpetually dampened by the lingering scent of the sea. A solitary window provided a glimpse of the vast expanse of the azure ocean. Without hesitation, Cade settled into the solitary chair within the chamber, expressing his gratitude. Sensing the young man's desire for solitude, Drevyn took his leave, departing from the room promptly.
Lost in thought, Drevyn swiftly gathered his crewmen, imparting upon them a task of utmost importance. They were to keep a watchful eye on Cade, meticulously observing his every action until they reached their final destination. The crew, without question, comprehended the weight of their captain's request. He could only hope that their journey to High Reach would be uneventful, their arrival timely and secure.
As the ship sailed forth, the captain's mind teemed with unanswered questions, the allure of unraveling Cade's story becoming an obsession that consumed his every waking moment.
After four arduous days of relentless sailing, the jagged contours of the rocky shores materialized on the horizon, a welcome sight for Captain Drevyn. The end of their treacherous journey was within grasp, a single night's voyage separating them from the dawn's arrival. The prospect of solid land beneath his feet invigorated Drevyn, a respite from the unyielding expanse of the sea.
"Cap'n!" Keznov's voice thundered from the depths of the ship, jolting Drevyn from his reverie. "Look westward! Ships loom on the horizon!" His words carried a weighty sense of urgency, a harbinger of imminent danger.
Drevyn retrieved his gold-gilded telescope from beneath his weathered cloak, training it upon the distant vessels. His heart sank as he beheld the crimson flags fluttering in the wind, a dire omen upon the open sea. The situation in High Reach must have deteriorated further, for corsairs and pirates to roam the coast unchecked, unopposed by the Bretony Kingdom's naval might.
"Fear not, lads," Drevyn reassured his crew, though his voice betrayed a hint of concern. "They lie at a distance, their threat yet to materialize. In a matter of hours, they shall fade into insignificance. Lekk, Perell, unfurl the sails and release the ropes! We must hasten our pace!"
The crew, a mix of panic and determination etched upon their faces, sprang into action, executing their captain's orders with a sense of urgency. However, an undercurrent of unease permeated the ship, for these were no ordinary corsairs or pirates. Drevyn knew all too well the folly of men, having encountered the dreaded Corsairs of Dragonbites in his long years upon the seas. His men were not seasoned fighters, nor were the mages he had brought aboard. Even Drevyn himself, a trader at heart, possessed little skill in combat.
And then, it struck him—a realization that ignited a spark of hope amidst the encroaching darkness. Cade, the enigmatic passenger below deck, possessed the physique and bearing of a warrior. Could he be the key to their survival, a force to resist the onslaught of the corsairs? With a determined stride, Drevyn descended below deck, his purpose clear. He sought out the mysterious passenger who had captivated his attention since boarding the ship. It was imperative to inform him of the imminent threat, for within Cade's enigmatic presence lay secrets that might hold the key to their salvation. The fate of all aboard the vessel hung precariously in the balance, as the storm's ominous approach threatened to unleash chaos upon their fragile existence.
"Muthserjo!" Drevyn's voice echoed through the cramped corridors below deck, the urgency in his tone betraying the gravity of the situation.
"Yes… Captain Llerthi?" Cade turned toward him, his eyes piercing and enigmatic, their mismatched colors capturing his attention.
Drevyn's breath came in hurried gasps as he spoke, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Forgive me for disturbing your morning, but one of my crew has sighted corsair ships closing in on us. I fear that within hours, they will be upon us."
Cade rose from his seat, his gaze fixed upon the small window in his chamber. "Bearing the white viper from Alnkre?" His knowledge of the corsairs caught Drevyn off guard. How could this man be familiar with their sigil?
"Yes, indeed. They are the dreaded Corsairs of Dragonbites. I have encountered them only thrice in my many decades of sailing, and on two of those occasions, I came perilously close to meeting my maker," Drevyn replied, his voice steady, though his heart pounded within his chest. "But tell me, how do you know of them?"
Yet, he offered no answer to Drevyn's query. Instead, his gaze locked onto the captain once more, his eyes filled with an intensity that sent shivers down Drevyn's spine. "Prepare your men, Captain. The shadows are coming."
Shadows? Drevyn's mind reeled, struggling to make sense of his cryptic words. These were no mere shadows—they were a dangerous band of corsairs! But before he could voice his confusion, Cade spoke again, his tone now firm and commanding.
"Allow me to help you prepare." He said, his words carrying an air of authority that demanded attention.
Drevyn hesitated for a moment, his mind awash with questions and uncertainties. Yet, there was something about Cade, something in the depths of his eyes that spoke of knowledge and power. Reluctantly, he nodded, his decision made. "Very well, muthserjo. Your aid will be most welcome. Together, we face this storm, be it in the form of corsairs or whatever shadows you spoke." The Captain of the Old Bitch declared, his voice resolute.
The night swallowed them whole, Captain Drevyn steeling his resolve as he oversaw his crew's preparations for the impending corsair attack, their crimson flags bearing the white viper haunting his thoughts, as Cade had ominously foretold. He ordered his men to secure the passengers below deck, guarded until the pirate menace was vanquished. Yet, the enigmatic figure perched aloft in the crow's nest, the stranger of unknown depths, gave him a pause.
"Cap'n!" came the hurried cry of Keznov. "The pirates approach! What course shall we steer?"
Drevyn laid a comforting hand on the young sailor's shoulder. "Steady, lad! Recall your training, men! Ready yourselves!" he bellowed, preparing his crew for the imminent confrontation.
"Captain Llerthi, mayhaps I could borrow a blade, a dagger, or a sword," Cade offered, though Drevyn was certain he'd just seen the man aloft among the towering sails moments ago. How could he appear at his side so swiftly?
"I...uh... Indeed, muthserjo! You've aided in preparing my crew, and I'd welcome your hand in the battle against these corsairs," Drevyn replied, his voice low and rough.
With a gesture, he beckoned Lekk to provide Cade with a sword and dagger, observing the man's ease with the blades, a familiarity that struck Drevyn as uncanny. "But, Cade Muthserjo," Drevyn hesitated, his concern for the passenger's safety weighing heavily on his mind, "are you certain about this? You're a passenger aboard my ship, and it might be safer for you to remain below deck until this ordeal is behind us."
Cade's lifeless gaze bore into the captain once more, his peculiar dim blue and green eyes unsettling Drevyn to his core. Those eyes held secrets, a depth beyond understanding. "I am certain, Captain Llerthi." he declared, his voice icy, yet harboring a curious undercurrent of concern for the souls aboard the ship.
In the pallid light of dawn, the Old Bitch sailed defiantly into the maw of impending battle. Captain Drevyn's heart thundered within his chest, a symphony of dread and determination echoing through his veins. The corsairs, their reputation preceding them like a lethal shroud, bore down upon them with ruthless intent. Drevyn's crew, a scant two dozen souls, stood resolute, ready to face the tempest that roared toward them.
"Prepare the elemental barrages!" Drevyn commanded his few mages, his voice a mixture of desperation and hope.
The mages, their faces etched with the gravity of the moment, raised their hands skyward. Incantations, urgent and fervent, filled the air as fireballs and blizzards surged toward the corsair ships. Flames erupted, tongues of fury licking at sails and rigging, while icy winds howled their freezing wrath.
The corsairs staggered, their vessels buckling under the magical onslaught. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as though victory might favor the underdog. Drevyn's heart lifted, a glimmer of hope illuminating the bleak horizon.
But seasoned and unyielding, the corsairs endured. Their ships, scarred but far from defeated, surged forward, cannons roaring to life. The merchant vessel was swallowed in the tumultuous embrace of their assault.
Drevyn's breath caught in his throat as he watched his crew battle with the corsairs, a desperate struggle in the belly of chaos. Fear gnawed at him, a relentless companion in the face of impending death. He was no stranger to the merciless dance of combat, but this was a symphony of terror, an orchestra of desperation. The odds were overwhelmingly against them.
"Fight, men! Fight for your lives!" Drevyn bellowed, his voice a rallying cry amidst the chaos.
The crew, a mix of panic and resolve, clashed with the corsairs. Steel met steel, the din of combat echoing across the unforgiving sea. The ship became a battlefield, a realm of strife and survival.
Amidst the fray, Drevyn found himself engaged with a hulking Redguard corsair, his blade clashing with the pirate's cutlass. Fear was an unwelcome companion, but resolve burned bright within him. He fought not only for his own life but for the lives of his crew. His mind raced with thoughts of his family, his loved ones left behind on the ashen land, awaiting his return. He could not allow this to be his end.
"Stay strong, men!!" he shouted, parrying a vicious blow from the corsair.
But fate dealt a cruel hand as the hulking Perreldian overpowered him, delivering a devastating punch that sent Drevyn sprawling. The corsair's blade bore down on the captain's abdomen, and agony seared through him, accompanied by the pirate's callous laughter. However, the laughter was short-lived as a spear's tip pierced the corsair's back.
"Captain! Get up!" It was Lekk, his loyal crewmate, who had saved him. "By the Father! You... you're wounded!" He exclaimed in panic.
"Don't worry about me, lad. Attend to the others, go!" Drevyn commanded through gritted teeth, struggling to rise. The wound was grievous, the pain unbearable. He reached for a small vial of healing potion from his worn leather satchel, attempting to numb the pain. He surveyed the ship, his men valiantly fighting to repel the relentless attackers.
And then, he spotted him. The young Bretan, the enigmatic passenger who had occupied his thoughts since they first met on the ship. Cade fought with a lethal grace, a solitary island amidst the raging sea of battle. The captain marveled at the fluidity of his movements, the expertise with which he dispatched his foes. It was as though he were no ordinary man, but a seasoned killer moving with the finesse of a dancer. His eyes... Even in the dim light, Drevyn could discern an unsettling calm within them, untouched by the horrors of the slaughter surrounding him.
Before long, another corsair attempted to strike him down, but Drevyn retaliated with a deliberate, torturous flare of his flame magic, reducing the pirate to a writhing, agonized mass of burning flesh. He scanned the ship once more, his eyes falling upon the lifeless form of Keznov. A deep pang of sorrow gripped him as he beheld the young Normen, fallen victim to the brutality of these marauders.
Amidst the chaos, the brewing tempest, and the torrential rain assaulting the ship, Drevyn witnessed his crew being ruthlessly cut down by the pirates. Many of the assailants sought to breach the door leading below deck, threatening the lives of the passengers. Drevyn surged forward, endeavoring to halt the assault and safeguard those seeking refuge below.
He staggered toward them, determined to intervene, even as his stomach wound throbbed with pain. Two of his crewmates, the sturdy Drakari duo of Oar and Biter, unleashed a gruesome assault, claiming the lives of three corsairs with their blood-soaked axes. However, the pirates retaliated with a vicious blizzard spell that froze them solid and a swift beheading that extinguished their lives in an instant.
The captain, valiant yet wounded, was then struck from behind by a brutal mace blow. He collapsed, weakened and defenseless, the pirates descending upon him with relentless kicks and strikes. His world darkened, his strength waning.
Then, the pirates' screams pierced the chaos, replaced by a chilling silence. Drevyn was hauled up by strong hands and propped against a barrel. It was him, the enigmatic passenger, who had once again emerged to deliver a swift and merciless end to the corsairs. His efficiency was unsettling, as if the act of killing was second nature to him.
"You're wounded," Cade murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle and warm.
"I'll manage, muthserjo," Drevyn whispered, his breath trembling with anxiety. "Please, go protect my crew and the passengers. Do not let these hounds harm them." Without uttering a word, Cade resumed his relentless assault on the remaining corsairs, leaving him to grapple with the reality of their dire situation.
This was not the fate Drevyn had envisioned. They should have arrived at Seafarer Rest by now, not locked in a battle for survival against these wretched sea dogs. Weak and reeling, his mind teetered on the edge. "No... This cannot be my fate," he mumbled, his mind on the brink of unraveling. "I cannot perish here, not like this. Marlea, my love... I cannot leave you alone in Baelelan with our son. I must endure. I must survive."
Summoning every ounce of his remaining strength, Drevyn attempted to rise, his bloodied hand clawing at a barrel for support. He cast a desperate glance at his wounded abdomen, blood seeping rapidly from the grievous injury. He understood that he couldn't afford to close his eyes again if he wished to greet the morrow's breeze.
Amidst his anguished thoughts, he observed Cade, a figure of undeniable skill, taking on the corsairs with a fluidity that belied their crude, untrained efforts. Doubts crept into Drevyn's mind, questioning the true identity and motives of this enigmatic passenger. Could Cade be the cause of their current plight? Drevyn pushed such suspicions aside. His primary concern was the safety of his crew and ensuring that the passengers received the journey they had paid for. Not one, not two, not three, but a staggering ten corsairs fell beneath Cade's deadly strikes. He found solace in this unexpected ally, grateful that fate had brought them this protector rather than an assailant.
"Cap'n!" Lekk's voice once again pierced the tumultuous air, a desperate plea. "Divines be good... you can't leave us now, old man. Rise, damn you!"
Struggling, Drevyn allowed the Redguard to assist him back onto unsteady legs, the effort taxing his weary frame. Trembling, he whispered through quivering lips, "The passengers... are they safe? Are they unharmed?"
"Aye, Cap'n! Malie has them aboard the lifeboats. Pray they find refuge amidst this tempest," Lekk informed, a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. At least the innocent souls aboard might survive, even if the ship did not.
"Good... good..." Drevyn muttered, his gratitude mingling with pain.
"Come now, let's get you to safety in your cabin, Capta-" His words were cut short, a cruel arrow finding its mark in the Redguard's head, sending both men crashing to the unforgiving wooden deck.
Drevyn groaned in agony, his gaze locking onto Lekk's lifeless form, the arrow piercing through his comrade's mouth. Clenching his teeth against the pain, the captain mustered every ounce of strength, attempting to rise and confront their assailant. However, before he could take action, another arrow found its mark, this time in his right shoulder.
"Stay put, you old bastard!" the corsair taunted, her voice as rough as the sea.
But Drevyn refused to yield, summoning the remnants of his magical power to conjure a firebolt, a desperate bid to end the threat. With his left hand, he unleashed the fiery projectile, striking the corsair's shoulder and sending her into a panicked frenzy. Before long, he cast another bolt, but it missed its mark, igniting the sail above instead. As the flames consumed the ship's sail, any lingering hope of the Old Bitch's survival was engulfed in a roaring blaze.
Fueled by determination and an unyielding will to survive, Drevyn mustered his remaining strength, rising with unwavering resolve. With a final surge of vigor, he struck down the archer who had threatened their lives, determined to face whatever perils lay ahead.
He struck down the corsair archer, her cries of pain echoing through the beleaguered ship as the flames consumed her. With a last burst of strength, Drevyn delivered a blow to her face, ensuring she would trouble them no more, then proceeded to cast her off the vessel. "Get off my ship, bitch!" he spat, his own body failing him as he collapsed once more unto the worn, wooden deck.
Exhausted and battered, Drevyn crawled toward Lekk's lifeless form, his heart heavy with gratitude and sorrow. "Thank you," he whispered, his trembling hand gently closing the Perreldian's eyes.
Summoning the last reserves of his strength, Drevyn attempted to rise, leaning against the battered ship. There, he saw Cade, standing amidst a sea of corpses, the remnants of the corsair crew. A sense of awe mingled with confusion: who was this enigmatic figure, capable of such deadly prowess? The question tumbled from his lips, pondering aloud, "Just who is this man?"
Before he could approach Cade, a group of five hooded women emerged from the shadows of the black storm, their red and black cloaks billowing like a sinister dance of death. He readied his blades, his expression remaining stoic, the lifelessness in his eyes a disquieting contrast to the impending confrontation.
"You, with eyes of dual hues, be you one of the Ashaari?" questioned one of the hooded women, her dagger revealing three blades, an unsettling sight for Drevyn.
"Something beyond your concern, Dark Sisters. Who sent you?" Cade responded, methodically cleaning his sword and dagger, betraying no fear in the face of the hooded women.
Dark Sisters? The name sent shivers down Drevyn's spine. Their attire bore a sigil—an unsettling black hand—that made his vision waiver whenever he tried to focus on it. Who were these people?
"Your masters seek your return!" another of the hooded women declared, all of them assuming a combative stance with their lethal daggers. Masters? What masters? Was Cade the harbinger of this calamity that had befallen them?
"Before we deliver you to them, reveal your name so we may present it to our Old Mother," insisted one of the hooded women, her voice edged with malice.
Cade, standing resolute, slowly adopted a battle stance. Drevyn held his breath, a silent observer to the impending clash. "Your death." He uttered plainly, his words the prelude to a lethal dance of steel as he launched into the fray, meeting the hooded women's challenge head-on.
The young Bretan moved with an almost preternatural grace, effortlessly sidestepping the oncoming attacks of the Dark Sisters. With a swift and fluid motion, he intercepted one of the hooded women, her own three-bladed dagger now buried in her chest. One lifeless body dropped to the wooden deck, leaving the Captain stunned at the young man's deadly skill. It was becoming increasingly evident that he was no ordinary individual just like Drevyn had previously thought.
The remaining four Dark Sisters, undeterred by the loss of their comrade, formed a tight circle around him. Their daggers gleamed malevolently as they prepared to strike. However, Cade's movements defied their attempts at aggression. He weaved through their coordinated assault with effortless finesse, parrying blows, and countering with deadly precision.
In an astonishing display of combat prowess, Cade drove his dagger into the heart of one of the hooded women, ending her life in an instant. His sword sliced through the throat of another, the blade finding its mark with chilling accuracy. With a swift and precise kick, he sent the remaining two Dark Sisters staggering backward. Drevyn watched in awe and dread, his mind awash with questions about the enigmatic man before him. Who was this man who they called Blademasters, and what secrets lay behind his otherworldly combat abilities?
Two Dark Sisters remained, their eyes a mix of terror and fury. They lunged at him in a final desperate assault, seeking vengeance for their fallen sisters. But before their blades could find flesh, the ship lurched violently, the wooden tower collapsing from the force of Drevyn's earlier firebolt that had set the sail ablaze.
The world turned into chaos as the ship shuddered, and the scene descended into a tumult of screams and splintering wood. Drevyn clung to the ship's remnants, watching in horror as the clash of elements and blades continued amidst the calamitous storm. The fate of all aboard hung precariously in the balance as the ship fought a battle against the sea and the very forces that drove it to the brink of destruction.
As the ship teetered on the brink of destruction, the Dark Sisters pressed their attack with relentless determination. Despite the chaos that raged around them, Cade found himself locked in a deadly dance with the remaining hooded women.
Drevyn, driven by both pain and desperation, fought his way to the ship's steering wheel. The acrid smoke from the blaze assaulted his lungs, making each breath a torturous endeavor. His journey was slow and painful, but he clung to his resolve, determined to wrest control of the ship from the clutches of the storm.
Through the haze, he noticed that the corsair ships had retreated, abandoning their pursuit of the Old Bitch. A sense of triumph surged within Drevyn. He chuckled with a mix of pride and satisfaction. Their attempt to seize him and his ship had failed.
Amidst the smoke and turmoil, Drevyn glanced through his telescope, squinting against the encroaching darkness. Land lay ahead, a beacon of hope amidst the tempest. With grim determination, he fought to steer the ship toward safety, a final act of defiance against the relentless fury of the sea.
But his efforts were interrupted by a piercing cry from below deck. It was one of the Dark Sisters, the last remaining among them, her anguish echoing through the chaos. She vowed vengeance against Cade, her words filled with an ominous threat. With renewed determination, she launched a ferocious assault on the young Breton, her movements quicker and deadlier than before.
In a desperate bid to aid Cade, Drevyn strained to summon another firebolt, his trembling hands fumbling with the arcane forces. He struggled, the energy eluding his grasp like a fleeting breath. Once, a small fire flickered to life, only to be extinguished. Determined, he tried again, willing the power to his command. This time, with a surge of resolve, he managed to conjure a firebolt, his aim steady, his intent clear. The fate of the enigmatic man hung in the balance, and Drevyn would not let him fall.
With unwavering focus, Drevyn targeted the Dark Sister, carefully aligning his aim. He couldn't afford to falter as the hooded woman closed in on Cade, her relentless attacks chipping away at his defenses.
The firebolt shot forth, a burning missile streaking through the air, finding its mark on the Dark Sister's body. Her agonized scream echoed, and she was momentarily distracted, turning her attention toward Drevyn. Her menacing grin sent shivers down his spine as she closed in on him with malevolent intent. In a swift and brutal assault, her dagger found its mark, slashing through Cade's arm and wounding him. The Captain could only watch in horror as the young Breton faltered.
Then, in a blink of an eye, the Dark Sister teleported behind Drevyn, her voice filled with sinister purpose. She thrust her three-bladed dagger into the Captain's body. "If I couldn't get that Bretan's soul, at least I will have yours for my Old Mother!"
Drevyn's world blurred with pain and fear. This couldn't be the end, not like this. Summoning every ounce of his remaining strength, he grasped the woman's throat, choking her with fierce determination. He rained down blows upon her face with his trembling fist, his desperation lending him an unexpected ferocity. With a final act of desperation, he hurled her off the ship. Weak and wounded, he collapsed to the wooden deck, the pain from the stab wound searing through his body.
Drevyn's voice was but a whisper as he clung to consciousness, his life's essence spilling onto the weathered deck. His vision blurred, the world around him fading into an ominous haze. In that hazy moment, his thoughts turned to Marlea, his beloved, and Athyn, his son, waiting for his return on Baelelan.
Cade, his enigmatic savior, knelt beside him, his left arm bearing an injury from the recent battle. "Captain," he spoke, concern etched across his face. "Your wound..."
"Don't worry about me, muthserjo," Drevyn rasped, each breath a struggle. "Help me get up. I must steer my ship, guide her to safety."
He supported the wounded captain, their combined efforts a testament to the resilience of a man determined to save what was dear. Drevyn gritted his teeth against the agony as his bloodied hand clung to the steering wheel, the wood slippery with rain and crimson. The storm roared, the sky ablaze with lightning and thunder. "Can you guide us safely to land?" Cade asked, voicing the doubt that danced in both their minds.
The Captain managed a weary chuckle, his eyes fixed on the distant shore. "I can't say for certain, muthserjo. But we shall have to hope."
As they struggled to guide the ship through the relentless tempest, the smoke from the raging fires and the encroaching storm grew thicker, choking the very air they breathed. Lightning lashed out, threatening to strike their fragile vessel at any moment. Cade's concern deepened, his eyes scanning the tumultuous sea ahead. "We may not be able to make a safe landing, Captain Llerthi," he finally admitted, his voice strained. The relentless fury of the storm, combined with the fires that still smoldered on the ship, posed an almost insurmountable challenge.
Drevyn, however, remained resolute. "I can land her safely, I know I can," he replied with unwavering determination, his bloodied grip on the steering wheel unyielding.
Another bolt of lightning crackled through the air, too close for comfort. Cade's concern grew, realizing the dire circumstances. "You can't take that chance," he urged, his gaze locked with the captain's.
"Go!" Drevyn finally yelled, his voice laced with pain and resignation. "I will stay with the ship."
Before he could react, Cade acted swiftly. He reached out, grabbing the captain and pulling him away from the helm. With a strength that belied his appearance, he carried Drevyn to the edge of the ship and leaped into the churning waters just as the ship was consumed by fire and torn asunder by the relentless storm. "No!" Drevyn protested, feeling the Old Bitch slipping away from him. She was more than just a ship; she was a part of his life, a loyal companion through countless voyages.
As their battered bodies crashed onto the unforgiving ocean waves, he slipped into a dream. A dream of solace and a distant time when the weight of the world hadn't yet carved deep creases into his weathered face. In the dream, he found himself back on the rugged island of Solstheim, with the comforting presence of his family. He beheld his wife's sweet smile in Baelelan, where she sold trinkets from the United Imperial Company in the bustling town market. His son, that beacon of joy, flashed him an unforgettable smile as he bought vegetables, a moment etched in Drevyn's memory for centuries.
The dream faded like a fleeting flame, and the captain awoke ashore, sprawled on the cold, unforgiving ground. He could feel the weight of his grievous wounds, blood clinging to him like a macabre shroud. Death seemed to loom in the shadows, waiting patiently.
Drevyn's voice, a mere whisper of his former self, faltered in its attempt to call out to him. Only a feeble whimper escaped his parched lips. Cade, visibly startled, rushed to the Captain's side, his voice was cold but shaken. "I...I...I'm…," he stammered, his eyes meeting Drevyn's in a haunting gaze.
Unable to speak, Drevyn gently guided Cade's hand to his chest, a silent request to listen to his fading heartbeat. The young man complied, placing his hand on the old captain's chest, feeling the weakening rhythm of a life nearing its end.
As the morning sun bathed the shoreline in its golden embrace, the world around him faded into a blur of white light. Drevyn's feeble smile painted a poignant picture as he released his final breath.
In the realm beyond, he found his mother waiting for him amidst the bustling stalls of Athum City. She was still selling ash yams, a simple pleasure he had yearned for since leaving the city and her side. He smiled, finding solace in the reunion, knowing that even after losing his ship, he had found something precious once again.