As the first light of dawn crept over the empire's capital, the chosen party stood at the city's edge, where the cobblestone streets gave way to the untamed wilds beyond. Darius, Kira, Callen, Thrain, and Seris had assembled in the cold, the sharp bite of the early morning air mingling with the muted sounds of a city still half-asleep. The usual opulence and finery that marked their positions in the empire had been shed for more humble garb. No longer did they wear the insignias of their ranks or the armor of imperial warriors, but rather the nondescript, weathered clothing of common travelers. Thick woolen cloaks, patched leather boots, and simple tunics were now their armor, and on their faces, a mix of dirt and soot carefully obscured their true identities.
Seris stood apart from the others, her hands deftly wrapping a long strip of cloth around her hair, concealing its glossy dark waves. She caught Kira's eye and offered a small, knowing smile. "Disguise only goes so far," she said softly, tucking the last strands away. "But a healer shouldn't stand out too much, even in times like these."
Kira smirked as she adjusted her quiver, now filled with plain arrows rather than the finely crafted ones she typically carried. "Better than being an archer who's known to kill from a mile away." She shrugged, her expression softening. "We're just commoners now. No one will care to look twice—at least, I hope."
Darius, ever practical, checked the straps on his pack, making sure nothing was too tightly secured or too loose. His broad shoulders still carried the posture of a seasoned warrior, but his clothing—simple, unadorned, and rough from wear—spoke of a man who had seen hard travel rather than battle. "We're not just hiding who we are," he said, his voice low but steady. "We're hiding the empire's future. If anyone catches wind of what we're doing, they'll know Eldryn is at death's door."
Thrain stood silently beside them, his face hidden beneath the deep hood of his cloak. The Spiritual Guide, who normally walked with an air of quiet authority, now moved with the deliberate caution of a man walking in the shadow of unknown dangers. His staff, a simple walking stick for now, had been stripped of its ceremonial markings. The soft whisper of the wind brushed past him, and he murmured a quiet prayer under his breath.
"It is not the gods we must hide from," he said finally, his voice deep and calm, "but the eyes of men. And in this, we must be vigilant."
Callen, the youngest of the group, fidgeted as he adjusted the dagger strapped to his thigh. His youthful energy was barely contained beneath the guise of a weary traveler, but his sharp eyes missed nothing. "You'd think dressing like this would be easier," he muttered, tugging at the collar of his cloak. "But these clothes itch more than armor."
Darius shot him a look. "Better itchy clothes than a blade in your back because someone recognized you."
Callen grinned, his nerves only half-hidden behind the joke. "I'll take that as sound advice."
Seris glanced over at Thrain, who had finished his prayer and was now gazing toward the city gates where their ship would be waiting at the docks. "The plan remains the same?" she asked, though she already knew the answer. Her voice was soft, yet it held the firm undercurrent of someone who had been through dangerous missions before.
Darius nodded. "Yes. The ship is a simple goods vessel, nothing special. We board as merchants, no more, no less. The captain owes Theon a favor, but he's been paid well to keep his mouth shut. He doesn't know who we really are, and that's the way it stays."
Kira adjusted her pack, stepping forward and glancing at the group. "We'll need to be careful on the ship. It's not uncommon for Ebonwind spies to slip in with the crew. We can't afford anyone getting suspicious."
"We won't be the only ones keeping secrets," Thrain added quietly. "Merchants traveling in these parts know the risks. They'll mind their business as long as we mind ours."
The sound of a distant bell echoed through the streets, signaling the early movements of the city's workers as the day began. It was time to leave. The group moved in silence, walking through the empty streets toward the docks. Their footsteps echoed off the stone buildings as they passed, the weight of their mission ever-present in their minds.
The dock was bustling, despite the early hour. Ships of varying sizes lined the wharfs, their sails furled, and their decks filled with crates and barrels. The air was thick with the smell of salt and fish, and the distant shouts of sailors could be heard over the sound of waves lapping against the wooden piers. The ship they were to board—a modest merchant vessel by the name of The Silver Gull—sat near the end of the dock, its crew busy loading goods for the journey ahead.
"Stay close," Darius murmured as they approached. "Blend in."
A man dressed in simple seafaring clothes stood at the ship's gangplank, his eyes scanning the docks for passengers. His gaze settled on the group as they approached, and he gave them a curt nod. "You lot must be the merchants," he said, his voice rough from years at sea. "Captain's expecting you. Go on up."
Darius gave a small nod in return, leading the way as they boarded the ship. The deck was crowded with cargo, and the sailors moved about with practiced efficiency, paying little attention to the new arrivals. The captain, a stout man with a grizzled beard and a weathered face, stood near the helm, giving orders to his crew. He caught sight of Darius and the others and raised a hand in greeting.
"Theon's friends, I take it?" the captain called out, his voice booming across the deck. "Good to have you aboard. Keep your heads down, and we'll get you where you need to go."
Darius gave a small, respectful bow. "We appreciate it, Captain. We'll stay out of your way."
The captain grunted in acknowledgment. "That's all I ask. We'll be setting off shortly. Make yourselves comfortable, but don't get too comfortable. Storms have been brewing near the coast, and I don't plan on sticking around if things get rough."
With that, the captain turned back to his crew, barking more orders as the final preparations for departure were made.
The group found a quiet corner near the stern of the ship, away from prying eyes. They set their belongings down and settled in as best they could. The air was thick with tension, but there was a shared sense of determination among them.
Kira leaned against the railing, gazing out at the open sea beyond the harbor. "I've never been this far from the capital before," she admitted quietly. "Feels strange, knowing we might not come back."
"We'll come back," Callen said, his voice full of youthful confidence. "We have to."
Seris, ever practical, checked the small pouch of herbs and potions she had brought with her. "We'll face worse than storms before this is over," she said softly. "But we'll face it together."
Darius, standing nearby, nodded in agreement. "We've all been through our share of battles. This is just another fight, even if the enemy is a little different this time."
Thrain, who had remained silent throughout most of the exchange, finally spoke, his voice low and calm. "The gods are with us, but their guidance is not always clear. We must rely on each other—and on ourselves."
The ship's sails were unfurled, and with a creaking groan, The Silver Gull began to move, slowly pulling away from the dock and into the open waters beyond. The city of Tharavara grew smaller in the distance, its towering spires fading into the morning mist as the ship set course for the unknown.
As the group stood together, watching the horizon, the weight of their mission settled over them like a heavy shroud. They were heading into dangerous, uncharted territory, both physically and metaphorically. The success of their journey—and the survival of the empire—depended on their ability to stay one step ahead of those who would see them fail.
For now, they sailed in silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts as the ship carried them closer to Valoria, and to the fate that awaited them there.
---
The ship groaned and swayed as it finally pulled away from the dock, its sails catching the brisk morning wind. The sun had now fully risen, casting a golden glow over the harbor and shimmering on the surface of the water like scattered coins. The gentle lapping of the waves against the hull quickly turned into the steady rhythm of the ship cutting through the sea, and the familiar scents of saltwater and brine thickened in the air.
At the helm, the captain stood tall, his sharp eyes fixed on the horizon. His hands gripped the ship's wheel with the surety of a man who had spent decades at sea. "Ready the sails!" he barked, his voice cutting through the salty air. "We've a long journey ahead."
The crew moved with practiced efficiency, pulling ropes, adjusting sails, and tying off lines. Their movements were fluid, synchronized as if each had rehearsed this routine hundreds of times before. One of the sailors—a young man barely out of his teens—scrambled up the mast with the ease of someone half his size, securing the ropes as the ship caught the wind and began its journey into open waters.
"Aye, the wind's good today," one of the older crew members muttered as he hoisted a heavy barrel of supplies across the deck. "If the gods are kind, we'll make good time."
Another sailor, a burly man with a thick beard, shot him a sidelong glance. "The gods may favor us now, but don't tempt fate. We've storms brewing inland, and I'd wager we'll feel their bite before too long."
The captain, overhearing their exchange, smirked but said nothing. He had seen countless storms in his time, and it would take more than a bit of rough weather to unsettle him. "Keep your eyes sharp," he called out, "and your hands steady. We've a fair wind now, but the sea's temper can change faster than you think."
Below the deck, near the stern, the five travelers gathered in quiet conversation, keeping to themselves as the ship's crew bustled around them. They had taken on the appearance of common travelers—simple clothes, cloaks drawn low to hide their features, and packs slung over their shoulders—blending in as much as possible. Their faces were smeared with dirt, and their hair was tucked beneath hoods or wrapped in scarves, making them nearly indistinguishable from the crew. Their mission demanded discretion, and they couldn't risk drawing any unwanted attention.
Darius leaned against the railing, his eyes scanning the horizon. "We're finally underway," he said, his voice low but tense. "It's been too long since I've felt the open sea beneath my feet."
Beside him, Kira sat on a barrel, her bow tucked close to her side. "Let's hope it stays this calm," she remarked, though her tone was less optimistic. "Valoria's not the only danger we face. We don't know what kind of eyes might be watching us even now."
Callen, always quick to lighten the mood, offered a grin. "If anyone's watching us, they'll think we're nothing more than a bunch of merchants on a routine trade run. They won't suspect anything."
Seris, who had been adjusting the straps on her pack, shot him a warning glance. "That's exactly what we need them to think. But don't get too comfortable. If we're discovered, the empire's enemies will move faster than we can react."
Thrain, standing slightly apart from the group with his staff resting lightly against his shoulder, remained silent, his gaze on the horizon. The wind tugged at his cloak, but he seemed unaffected by the chill. After a moment, he spoke softly, almost to himself. "The sea is indifferent to our fate. It doesn't care for the lives of men or the whims of kingdoms. We must rely on our own strength to survive this journey."
Darius nodded in agreement. "Strength and secrecy. We can't afford to make any mistakes."
The ship continued to glide smoothly through the water, the distant sound of gulls fading as the city disappeared from view behind them. The crew worked tirelessly, adjusting the sails and tending to the ropes, their movements a steady hum of activity. Above, a sailor stationed in the crow's nest called down, "All clear ahead!"
The captain raised a hand in acknowledgment but didn't take his eyes off the horizon. "Good," he muttered. "Let's hope it stays that way."
Back with the group, Kira shifted her weight and adjusted the hood of her cloak. "How long do you think it'll take to reach the nearest port?"
Darius glanced at the map tucked in his pack. "A few days, if the winds hold. From there, we'll have to find a way through the wilds of Valoria on foot. We're still far from our goal."
Callen folded his arms and leaned back against the mast. "I've heard stories about Valoria. None of them good."
Seris glanced at him sharply. "We're not children sitting around a campfire. We know what we're up against. If we lose focus for even a moment, it could cost us more than this mission."
Callen shrugged, unfazed by her warning. "Just making conversation."
Darius turned his attention to the crew. "We should keep our distance from them. The less they know about us, the better. We're supposed to be merchants, so let's act the part."
"Agreed," Kira said, tightening her grip on her bow. "The fewer questions they ask, the better."
The crew, for their part, seemed more focused on their own tasks than on the passengers. Every sailor moved with purpose, adjusting the sails, tying down loose cargo, and keeping the ship in good order. They were used to carrying goods and travelers alike, and it seemed they weren't particularly interested in whatever cargo this group of strangers had brought aboard.
As the day wore on, the sun climbed higher into the sky, casting a bright, unrelenting light over the ship's deck. The crew's banter grew louder as they settled into the rhythm of their work, but the tension among the travelers remained palpable. Each of them was keenly aware of the dangers they faced, not just from the unknown threats in Valoria but from any potential spies who might seek to sabotage their mission.
The captain made his way down from the helm, his steps sure and deliberate as he moved among his crew. He passed by the group of travelers, giving them a cursory glance before nodding in their direction. "Keep your wits about you," he said gruffly. "The sea can be unpredictable."
Darius offered a slight nod in return, understanding the underlying warning in the captain's words. "We'll be ready," he replied, his tone calm but firm.
The captain studied him for a moment longer, then continued on his way, barking orders to the crew as the ship surged forward, the wind filling its sails.
As the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the deck, the group gathered near the stern once more. The distant coastline of Tharavara had long since disappeared, replaced by the vast, endless expanse of the sea.
Thrain's voice, soft yet steady, cut through the sound of the wind. "The gods watch over us now. But it is our own strength that will carry us to Valoria."
Darius nodded, his eyes still on the horizon. "We'll make it," he said, more to himself than the others. "We have to."
To Be Continued...