Year 0, Day 1
The wind howled over the barren land, dragging clouds of sand in its wake. Captain Elias Tremmel stood on the prow of the Seawarden, his eyes scanning the empty, desolate coastline. Behind him, the other ships in his convoy floated silently in the gentle rustle of the natural harbor. "We'll anchor here," Tremmel said, his voice broken, not from uneasiness, but from injuries. He turned to Mara Kestrel, a young apprentice engineer who had become the captain's unofficial advisor. "Tell the crew to unload; we'll start with the food and tools first."
Mara hesitated. "This land... it, um, doesn't look very promising, Captain. Are you sure you want to settle here?" Tremmel didn't look towards her to respond. He grabbed the sword at his waist and launched it like a javelin into the sands, lodging it firmly. "This land will be called Tremmel's Landing. It is a harbor; it is more than we had yesterday, this past week, month, or even year of sailing. If we don't settle somewhere now, we might as well live on the oceans."
The settlers disembarked from their ships cautiously; some even muttered prayers and wrote wills as their boots sank into the wet sand. A child cried somewhere in the masses. Families clustered together, gripping tightly to whatever was left from their travels. They had spent years living under a tyrannical, near-dystopian empire just a year ago, and now they were wondering if fleeing under this captain's lead was truly the right choice. Among these families were two brothers, not by blood but by mutual agreement. One was Silas Drake, a merchant who smuggled crates upon crates of luxury goods onto his ship, hoping to rebuild his fortune in the new lands. He gazed at the lands like the many around him. "Not much to work with, is there?" His speech was firm, without emotion.
His brother, Jonas Blackthorne, stood near him with his entourage of rough-looking men. He smirked and tipped his tricorn hat. "Enough for the clever; a barren coastline means nobody else wanted this land, meaning we can claim the entirety of it for ourselves."
_ _ _
Before the sun had completely vanished into the distant horizon, the people set their tents and teepees up, circling a large campfire. Captain Tremmel, before the journey, had, of course, chosen an assortment of people. Not by their appearance or age, but by the wisdom or ideas that were in them. He called them the First Council, himself at the helm, of course, and called the first Council Meeting by the campfire. "We've come here to escape the chaos of our old worlds, wherever it is that we have come from," Tremmel's voice cut through the crackle of the fire, "To build something new is never easy, and until we have truly made ourselves a city, a nation with its own constitution, we will work as one, as a community. Because together we can give ourselves hope."
"Together?" chimed in Drake, his voice skeptical. "And what if someone happens to claim more than their given share? Do you wish to limit ambition?" A small murmur rose among the 21 council members.
Tremmel's eyes met Drake's without fear; the edge of his lips rose slightly. He knew exactly who Drake was and what he was trying at.
"Until we have enough to be self-sufficient, we will work as one. Anyone's tools or food are everybody's tools and food. That includes your own stash, Drake."
The merchant didn't seem flustered; he simply nodded and sat silently for the rest of the meeting.
_ _ _
Later that night, Mara Kestrel sat by the fire, sketching a rough map of the coastline she had seen so far. Near her was Eira Mallory, the only healer that the settlers had found, stitching up the wounds of a sailor.
"Really not much, is it?" Mara started small talk with the healer, keeping a good relationship with her is crucial for anybody.
"No, no it isn't. But it is ours," Eira seemed to stay optimistic. She had blonde hair lighter than the snow and eyes darker and deeper than the ocean. She looked, acted, and just about had the skills of a saint. Even after a year of travel, she looked as if she had lived in luxury.
"Yeah...if that even means anything, it's like bragging about owning a rusted pendant."
"Rust is only the exterior, if you can look beyond it, you can have luxury worth countless thrones and crowns."
She sighed in exhaustion, "The captain... Elias can be wise, but also arrogant. I'm just wondering what's going on in his head right now. You know, I heard he had multiple children—multiple. It's weird, though, because I've never seen his wife or children, even though I spent a year on the ship with him."
Year 0, Day 2
By the morning of the second day, the settlers woke up to the harsh reality. Even though they knew they were awake the day before, some had hoped it was just a dream and that they'd wake up back somewhere else.
That morning, the First Council had its second meeting. Mara spoke first, "We need to get freshwater. What we brought here won't last us a week, and this harbor doesn't have any natural source."
"Then we'll find one," Tremmel replied, looking into the roughness past the tall mountains and steep cliffs. "Blackthorne, you and your men seem experienced with each other; grab your swords and scout. Streams, waterfalls, plants, any game, anything. Until then, we'll fish in the harbor and ration anything we have."
Blackthorne let out a booming laugh that contagiously caught on to his entourage. "Trying to get rid of me, even just for a few hours, are you? Alright then! We'll be back before you even know it."
They left in the early morning and came back hours later with the exact same things they left with; just now they were sweaty and tired. They said past the cliffs was a rocky plain, with nothing but brush. Dried river beds were spotted, but no water. One of Blackthorne's men ended the report with, "It's almost like this place doesn't want us here," which warranted a hard glare from Tremmel.
They noted the mountains; however, they have tracks and leads of wild animals, but they struggled to climb to the top and see if there's anything beyond. Tremmel assigned a few past hunters to continue their job now; though most used to be beaver trappers, it's better than nothing.
Tremmel also started gathering some people to assign as lumberjacks and builders to start making lodges and real housing around.
Year 0, Day 5
On the fifth day, there was horror. A young boy with the family name of Harlow had died, drinking seawater in desperation. The healer Eira Mallory spent the last of her herbs to save the child, but he died later that afternoon. Every day from now on felt heavy, dark. A storm had come and planned to stay for a week at the very least.
The boy was buried on a small hill overlooking the harbor, his grave indicated with a wooden cross.
"Trammel's starting to lose them," Drake whispered to Blackthorne in the council meeting that night. Blackthorne's lips turned into a mischievous smirk, "We get the captain to fall, then we'll make sure who they know to turn to."
Blackthorne stood up, halting Trammel from continuing his speech, "I have food that will help us last a month more-" The council erupted before Blackthorne could finish. There was confusion, anger, and yet also thankfulness.
The captain, with one swing of his sword into the sand, silenced them all, prompting Blackthorne to finish what he was saying.
"As I was saying, the ships had dried fish and hardtack, but with nothing to soften them; we can't eat them. Now I happened to find some provisions within my ship that should help us last for a month. All I ask… is a favor, just a small favor to keep in my back pocket."
Blackthorne's smile was obvious, his voice was soft as silk, but his eyes were cold, staring down Tremmel.
"When we landed here, I had said we work as a community. Yet now you reveal your hidden stash of food? What kind of sickness do you have in you that took you until the death of an innocent child to reveal this?" Tremmel replied, his voice turning firm, "You're asking us to trade the future for a few more weeks of food."
"I'm trading you survival," Blackthorne broke eye contact, raising his hands and taking a step backward, "Take it or leave it."
The council, reluctant but unwilling to die for loyalty to the same captain that had got them stuck here, accepted the offer. Blackthorne's men distributed the food from then on, but with a catch, only those who pledged allegiance to Blackthorne would be gifted.
Tremmel was in his lodge, one of the only few built yet. His teeth were gritted, and he was nearly ripping the hair from his head in frustration. "That son of a gun, he thinks he can lead? He wants to take MY country, MY settlement from me? This isn't over, 'thorne, my soul won't rest until your life seeps from your eyes…"
Mara Kestrel, the advisor to Tremmel, rushed into his lodge with an idea in mind. She found him with his head in his arms, leaning over the table. "Uh, captain? I have an idea to find freshwate-"
"Leader."
Mara hesitated, pausing for a moment. "Right, leader, this is a bit of a far reach, but if I can take a few people with me to the dry riverbed, we could dig down and hopefully reach an aquifer. If we do so, we'll have tons of freshwater for the future!"
Trammel nodded and answered without looking towards her, "Take as many men as you need."
Year 0, Day 9
Cheers erupted from the distance, spreading to Tremmel's Landing. So much so that it woke the leader from his sleep; he rushed outside to see what the occasion was.
A mob of people had gathered in the center of the settlement, hugging, laughing, cheering, and hugging. Mara had done it; she struck fresh water.
Tremmel smiled, taking this chance to gather all the people to give them a short speech to re-establish his own power. "Today, we proved that we can overcome this land," he said, standing atop a makeshift platform. "Not by division or selfishness, but by working together. This is what we must be—a united people, or no people at all."
Year 0, Month 1, Day 0
Despite the victory and finding of freshwater, trouble simmered beneath the surface. Blackthorne's faction continued to grow, and Silas Drake had gotten confident enough to openly challenge Tremmel during council meetings.
Some people started proposing the idea of fortifying, saying their isolated position might be found by their previous empires and kingdoms. And if they have stayed anything like the settlers know, they won't be merciful.
Tremmel, nearing the completion of one full month out here in these lands, sat by the fire. He had a drink in his hands, a bottle of beer that he had hid from the rest. But it wasn't exactly what he imagined. He was a marine in his life before a coup was staged in his past life. He had been out here in the same oceans and lands, and while he didn't know much, he knew the island he had chosen was the best one around for years of travel by their boats.
Of course, he knew that this island was horrible; they had only managed to 'thrive' for a month because of Blackthorne's provisions and Mara's ingenuity. Speaking of which, she came over to sit next to the captain and show off her new map, a sketch of the harbor and the area around it. But Tremmel found something peculiar on the map: "You titled it the New Harbor?"
"Oh, right, I thought it, er, fit? The natural harbor here is what attracted us to this place, right? And many of the people here came from unfortunate pasts, so I thought and thought. Then I came up with The New Harbor. Something that'll remind the people that this is a fresh start, a place where we can build something new…"