• It was a simple ship that drove into the harbor that day. There they were, ordinary adventurers with ordinary gains in life. But destiny told them otherwise, as the shadows came calling to the king, and the light came calling to their heels, and those heels marched in pride with one.
    Captain Linis Capula’s Diary
    Captain of the Autumn’s Revenge

    He drearily looked about the room, wondering so much. Another restless night with that voice in his mind, and still he refused to think on it or tell anyone. A hand grabbed the back of his head, trying to calm the stabbing pain in the back of it. Falling his head back onto the pillow it rested on, his ocean blue eyes stared out of the window of the quarters behind him, sunlight peering through, with the soothing sounds of serene waves gently nuzzling the hull of the Amaranth. Up above, he could here the sounds of sticks whacking each other. That was when he rose again, blinking. How long did he sleep? He then turned to look at the make-shift calendar on the wall nearest to him. Day 2, Irisbirth – the beginning of Spring. His eyes widened – the day had finally come! Every year, on this day, did they travel to Moonshire to trade in goods they found on the open sea, and in their adventures (though their adventures were hardly dangerous, it was mostly work for foreigners). Being one of the busiest ports in Tipalo bay, they were sure to get a large payoff!
    At that moment, the cabin door opened and the first mate stepped in, sunlight peering through the open threshold. “Ah, you are awake now,” he said, calmly, giving a cheek-to-cheek grin. “Sleep well?”
    Falon remained silent, primarily focusing on the stabbing pain that buried itself deep within his mind, thinking that he was hit with a hundred oars by ogres. “Ha…I wish,” he replied, giving a smile of his own. “Care to explain why I was not notified of today?”
    “Well,” the first mate began, smiling wider. “You looked so adorable sleeping, I could not help but just let you stay as you were.” With that, came a muffled laugh. “Besides, we aren’t there yet.”
    “Cheeky b*****d.” Falon shook his head and swung his legs over the side of the bed, putting his leather boots on. “How long until we reach Moonshire?” he asked.
    “I’d say about two hours, we are making great time. Believe it or not, it is still relatively early, the boys have been practicing their sword-fighting since four this morning.”
    Falon slipped on his cuirass, looking surprised. “You mean those lazy dogs got up that early?”
    The first mate nodded. “Well, since Moonshire is one of the prime markets on the coastline of the Heartland, and is one of the most populous cities in the entire empire for its size, you can see why they are so eager to get ready to sell their bounty.”
    Falon gave a laugh, his deeper, yet soothing voice filling the room. “Or to see some new faces. Yeah, we did make a great deal from our last expedition. That’s not why I like it so much though, Cas…It simply looks marvelous in the spring.”
    “You see, this is why you don’t make much of the loot,” the first mate Cas said sarcastically. “We are going to turn a near fortune with how much loot and bounty from this year, and you are too busy admiring the scenery! Remember those slave traders in Kahn we took down? You will easily make five hundred pieces for the work you did.”
    “I go for the adventure, not the money, Cas. And I stopped those slavers because it was right, and not for the money either.” Falon said, giving a shrug.
    “And there is another reason!”
    Falon grabbed a wooden sword from the rack on the wall and stepped to First Mate Cas, patting him on the shoulder. “Tell you what, how about later we head to the pub and get some ale to really celebrate?”
    Cas gave a smile and pat the lad’s back in return. “That would be great. Now get up there, Darth is getting rather egotistical. Go up there and bring him down a few notches.”
    Giving a nod, Falon passed Cas and left the quarters, emerging onto the deck of the ship, sunlight of an early spring cascading down over the pristine masts of the mighty vassal they all stood on. The crewmen all were in a circle, two in the center, sparring each other with wooden practice swords of many different sizes. Some of the lighter men carried shorter swords, the larger ones carrying two-handed variations. At the center of the circle were two of the scouts, a blonde one with soft cheeks, and the other with jet black hair – Darth. The two young men dual one another; the slapping of wooden swords and rambunctious cheering of the audience singing loudly, chanting names like drunken prayers. Falon himself gently moved through the crowd, putting on his leather gauntlets, his hair tied back into a ponytail. As he watched the fight, he bid a smile.
    Both combatants swung, thrust, dipped, dove, rolled, and parried with grace and skill. These were no sailors, Falon remembered, as the captain had told him, they were a band of adventurers, bounty-seeking individuals, bards, and traders. Looking among the shining faces in the crowd, he identified each of them.
    Anis, a tall and thin man, bearing strong shoulders and fingers – any man caught on the opposite end of an arrow from his bow was in for certain peril indeed. A vibrant individual, his hand ran through his short blonde hair, his yellow eyes sharp and ever-watching with the alertness of a hawk.
    Beside him stood Polx, a broad, stark man from the Northern islands of Agi, a mountainous region. The ship blacksmith, his crafting skills were well renowned, not to mention his work with a mace. He once was a city guard, but moved to become a journeyman on the Amaranth, finding the city life dull and unfulfilling. Though he did have a sense of justice, it became apparent that he was not bored of his previous lifestyle, he simply wished to test his true resolve.
    And of course, there was Darth, the strapping young lad in the fight. The son of an arena combatant, everything about him was competition, and just as his lineage suggested, he had talent in combat. Though he was a rookie, and had never fought in war or for the high stakes such as death, he was an adventurer. Young and unstable, but eager.
    Among all these men though, one was missing: Captain Agnus. Where was he?
    His thinking was interrupted at the moment when one combatant was hit briskly in the chest at the end of the Darth’s “blade”, the force knocking him over on his back. Giving a loud “OOMF!” the loser then bashed his fists on either side of him in frustration of his defeat as the winner jumped and boasted amongst the cheering crowd.
    “Another victory!” he cried in a loud, proud call. “And undefeated! Anyone else dare to challenge the great and mighty Darth?” Anis and Polx looked at each other and then spotted Falon, giving him a smile. Returning this encouraging smile, he stepped forth, through the crowd.
    “I challenge you,” said Falon smoothly, the crowd instantly dying away their cheer, then turning it to him. The one named Darth turned his body to face his new challenger and gave a daring smile.
    “About time you woke up from your beauty rest,” said he, twirling the wooden instrument in his hands. “Didn’t figure you would come and face a real man.”
    The audience gave a series of jeering “oohs” and “ahhs”. Falon just shook his head and laughed. “Keep in mind that I taught you how to properly wield that thing you hold in your hands, and that I can easily turn it to knock you right on your a**.”
    Darth’s smile quickly faded at the taunt, his stance getting ready. “Watch your words, sir Falon; I have been going through a good streak lately. I’m not the novice you know from before.”
    Falon only smiled wider, himself getting ready. “Good! Now, prove that.”
    The crowd once more began cheering as Darth lifted his weapon and lunged at his opponent, swinging his arm horizontally. Falon stepped back, drawing out his adversary, stepping back more and more as Darth kept stepping and swinging until they reached the end of the circle of spectators. Falon stepped forth and leaped high, completely over Darth, landing opposite of him. And what was Falon remembered for? They would all answer: “For his skill.” Those that have been sailing on the Amaranth long enough could remember the day Falon presented his obvious talent. His origin was unknown to them, but whatever it was, it was damned fine one. The captain and Cas trained the boy in his skill, giving him the strength to wield his blade, and the skill to defend with it.
    Darth came around and slammed his blade down, Falon rolling aside and intercepting him from the side, Falon’s shoulder clipping the man’s ribs, causing him to stumble back, disoriented. Quickly did Darth recover, growing more agitated, and lunging again, his weapon poised, and thrust with might to Falon’s center with such vigor, he could feel the wind passing by it. Darth was indeed formidable, and strong, all knew. But all also knew, as did Darth, that…
    CLACK! SWACK!
    Falon was simply better. He had drawn his weapon to his chest in defense, the tip of the opposition pressing into the flat surface of the wooden sword. Falon then stopped the blade, it harmlessly pressing to his armor, pushed back, and slapped the blade right out Darth’s hands with a swing of his own. With a simple twist of his body, Falon finished his fight by pointing his weapon at Darth’s chest, giving a smile.
    “I win again,” he simply said.
    Darth grit his teeth and then sighed, his eyes closing, as if humbled by Falon’s performance. “’Seems I have much to learn.” Darth opened his eyes, them calm, his hand reaching out for a shake. “It bids me peace to know that I am on your side.”
    Falon set aside his weapon and took Darth’s hand happily, shaking it well. “You charge too much, Darth; stay patient. You have the vigor of a warrior, but require the patience of a saint to live long enough to be able to use it.”
    All this informality was discussed at the epicenter of cheer as the score of crewmen shouted Falon’s name.
    “Men!” barked a shout of a different nature, ringing from the threshold of the Captain’s cabin. Out came Captain Agnus, his large and seasoned build stepping closer to the large group, leaning on a mahogany cane for support. Immediately did all of them fall silent. Agnus stepped closer to the men, giving a slight grin. “Why are you all out here when you should be getting your bounty ready?”
    “But cap’n, we were merely training!” spoke Darth.
    “From what I saw, that was merely child’s play, Darth! I know you can do better than that.” Darth blinked and gave a slow nod, taken aback.
    “Captain!” called a voice from above; a man sitting in the crow’s nest, his arms waving for attention, a smile on his face. “I see the bay! Moonshire bay is in sight!”
    Agnus gave a brisk nod and turned to his men, who stood there, looking off to the side where the seer had spotted the bay. “Well?!” he barked, their attentions snapping to him. “Go on! Get ready to dock!” After that, the men scattered, all reuniting and almost diving into the crew’s quarters. Darth gave a slight nudge to Falon.
    “Hey, mate. After we get our rounds in, I’ll meet you at the pub, alright?”
    As Darth left, Falon gave a nod and slowly began to follow. A hand descended upon his shoulder, urging him to stop. The youth turned about and saw right into the face of Agnus. “Yes, Captain?” he asked, slightly nervous. Agnus was indeed acting a bit strange.
    “I’d like to speak to you for a moment, lad, if that is not too much trouble,” replied Agnus, him turning around and walking into his cabin, his mahogany cane giving rhythmatic beats to the deck. Falon arched a brow in slight confusion as to his behavior.
    “Yes, sir,” Falon replied and slowly followed the captain inside, where he saw the captain sit at his desk, his eyes catching those of the youth’s.
    “Shut the door, please.”
    “What seems to be the trouble, sir?” asked Falon, sitting down opposite of Agnus. Agnus took a moment and drew a deep breath from within himself before answering.
    “I am aware that I have been rather brash on you lads lately. And I need to apologize to you all. But it is this time of the season that evokes this stress on me.”
    “What?” spoke Falon, blinking. “You mean the beginning of spring where we make our annual rounds to Moonshire? But I always thought that this was your favorite place to be, beyond the open seas.”
    “No, my lad, I have always adored seeing Moonshire this time of year; I have been for the past thirty-seven years. And over those years, I have seen a lot of good crewmen and adventurous bounty-seekers. And I have heard all of the stories too. From the desire to see the open seas, to a desire to see the world around us; and from the desire to face the dangers of an unknown world, to find a bit of gold to parcel off to himself – I have heard it all, and thought I have seen it all. But this crew…is different. I can feel it each time I look into their eyes, burning with desire and thrill for adventure.”
    Falon blinked once more, standing slowly. “I thank you, Captain Agnus…but why not just tell that to the crew themselves?”
    “Because, my boy, none of them would understand what I mean. No one will, but you, my lad.” Agnus had a profound fondness for Falon ever since that night he was brought onto the Amaranth. Since that time, Falon and the captain had been close, the captain treating him as if he was his own son. For the longest time did Falon wonder why; why did the captain favor him so much?
    “I…don’t quite follow, sir,” Falon probed, finding himself at an absence of words. “Sir…what are you trying to say—“
    At that moment, there was a sharp thud as the Amaranth was, rather roughly, pulled in to dock at Pier Seven at the Moonshire harbor. From the deck, Cas’ voice rang muffled through the walls of the cabin on the outside. “We’re docked, lads! Everyone on deck!”
    Falon looked out the window and caught a glimpse at the inside of the pier, giving himself a smile. “Captain, perhaps we can discuss this over a nice drink at the pub! Come on! My treat!”
    Turning, Agnus simply smiled and waved off. “No, Falon. I am afraid I cannot come tonight to go to the trade; I’d rather just sit on the deck, watch the ship, and stare at the stars for a while, talk with the other captains. But, I do need to ask you if you can pick something up for me.”
    “Well, of course, sir – what is it?”
    “Just head to the market later tonight, when you can, and head into the blacksmith’s. Ask him for my order. Tell him that I sent you, will you lad?” Agnus then stepped to Falon and put a hand on his shoulder, giving the male a soft rub. “Oh, and make sure you boys don’t get into any trouble, will you?”
    Falon gave a smile; this was the captain he knew. “Yes, sir, I’ll see to it.”
    Agnus gave a nod and patted the youth’s shoulder once more. “Right – off you go then. Enjoy yourself.”
    Returning the nod, Falon turned about and stepped to the door, and opened it. He then turned his head to see the captain walk slowly to the window, staring out of it in silence. As he left and closed the door behind him, Falon could not shake the feeling that something strange was afoot. Sure, the captain was much older now than he was six years ago when he first took Falon to Moonshire, but…something did not seem right at all.
    The inside of the pier had changed the environment completely. The exuberant sunlight that rained down on the outside of the bay was now isolated away from them, the enormous shelter covering the harbor, as well as the Amaranth, and the rest of the ships at dock parallel along all of the twenty-seven piers in the Western Harbor. Ships of all kinds, and people of all trades came through these harbors, be it crewmen, tourists, or just plain wealthy beings exiting their crafts in merry, all came to Moonshire with enjoyment in sight. Albeit that the hype of this city was usually found true, the harbors were telling another story. The interior was dark, cold, and smelt like fish, as some of the crewmembers were saying amongst each other as they stood in line, holding bags upon bags of collected goods, and faces of wonder.
    “You know, for such a pristine city, you would think the harbor would be a bit more chipper?” projected one crewmember.
    “Or at least not smell like a barrel of fish feces,” concluded Darth, plugging his nose. He then caught a glimpse at Falon as he moved closer. With a quick toss of one of the bags he held, Darth gave a smile. “About time, I thought you were going to be late.”
    Falon looked up and was surprised as the sack of goods hit him in the chest, causing him to stumble a bit in grabbing it. Cas looked behind Falon, to the Captain’s cabin door, then back to Falon with an inquisitive persuasion on his face. “Where is the captain, Falon?”
    “He’s not coming; he told us to go ahead without him.”
    The men looked amongst each other, mumbling in low course. Cas’ face turned a certain disappointed fashion. Darth arched a brow and asked: “He’s not coming to collect bounty? Ha! More gold for us then, mates!”
    At the subtle sound of the word “gold” did the crewmen change their dispositions from civil city men to what some would call primates as they all dashed off the craft, some walking down the way, some running, and some simply jumping off the ship entirely to make a mad dash to the tunnel at the end of the harbor, where several guards greeted them in cheer, and slight caution. From the end of the harbor, Falon could hear one guard go “Oh…gods…more of ‘em. Double shift for us tonight, Dilly.”
    Falon gave a laugh at the whole spectacle, Cas stepping behind him. “How many you expect we have to pay the guards to keep them out of prison for?” Cas asked.
    “Before the eleventh bell, seven at least. Once they pump some ale into their veins, things will get interesting.”
    “Well, I don’t think so,” Cas laughed. “With all the bar-fighting going on in the empire, the counts of several counties have issued and supported bills that connote ‘roughhousing in taverns’ as an ‘organized recreational activity’.”
    Falon turned sharply. “You mean to say, that it is now a sport to fight in pubs?”
    Cas only shook his head, smiling to himself. “Whole empire’s gone mad.” With that, Cas stepped forth, as did Falon follow him off the ship, off to chase the Amaranth’s childish crewmen. Once they set their boots on the waterlogged docks, they proceeded to end of the pier, on target for the gateway to the upper tunnels, to the inside of the city.
    “Sure is strange for Captain Agnus to stay with the ship on a day like this,” began Cas, thinking to himself out loud. “Ah, well. He has his reasons.”
    When they came to the front of the ship, Falon stopped to look at the front bow, the wooden carving of Shi’ra, the goddess of the eastern sea, which was there. Falon closed his eyes and drew a breath, remembering.
    “See this, my boy? This is Shi’ra, the goddess of the eastern sea; bringer of luck, virtue, and pure of heart to men on the sea, she will always bring us favor and safety in our journeys. Of course, you have to pay homage to the gods and goddesses once in a while to receive that. We aren’t your average sailers, Falon. I make all our crew act as good men, and I expect you the same. Of course, I don’t deny you will, anyway.”
    Falon’s eyes opened and moved up the ship, where he saw, standing in the window of the Captain’s deck, Agnus staring down at him, and then turning away. “Perhaps,” Falon whispered. “But some times I question these reasons.”
    “Come on, Falon! I’ll race you the market district!” echoed Cas’ voice at the end of the harbor.
    Falon turned sharply around. “What?” he mumbled. Cas gave a rather rude gesture and sprinted off into the tunnels. Falon, giving a deep sigh, clutched his knapsack and began to run after him in pursuit. “Cheeky b*****d.”

    Inside the cabin, Agnus sat at his desk and opened the lower left drawer, drawing out a small book with his diary; the same small book which Falon carried when he first came aboard the Amaranth, six years ago. Falon was thirteen that day, and Agnus was fifty-four. The diary was massive, its volume barely containing records of each expedition of the Amaranth’s journeys, and with the inking of his quill, and staring at that small book, he began to write under the soft candlelight.