Captain’s Log Day 9

Ahoy,

I apologize for my long absence. The doctor wanted to make absolutely certain that I wasn’t going to go into a coma or something. During that storm, I suffered quite the blow to my head. But beyond pounding with every movement, I was alright. I am grateful to our doctor, though. He was just looking out for me. You don’t know our doctor, do you? Well, I probably should introduce him to you–or at least tell you his name. He goes by nothing more than Whitefield, or Doctor. I will not divulge the reason he joined our crew, many years ago, as that information is for him to tell. He used to be a highly respected man in many of the world’s kingdoms. That was under a different name, I’ll assure you. And we’ll leave it at that. Ask him yourself if you’re brave enough.

Since resuming my duties, it has come to my attention that we have lost more than half of our supplies to the storm. We’ll have to return to the nearest port to stock up much sooner than I anticipated. Not today though. I’m thinking we might be able to last another two days before necessity will drive us to port. I’m hoping. I don’t want to have to leave and come back, you know. My fear is that, after we leave, Argo Bay will claim the Gilded Leviathan when we come back. That’s why I didn’t want to have to leave so soon–and why I had a month’s worth of supplies on board. Now we’re down to days, a week if we stretch it. That’s what I plan to do. I don’t want to leave any sooner than tomorrow or the next day. Then it will be another few days before we reach the port.

And, of course, I couldn’t wait to get back out to the site of the sunken city. I’ve read through the past few days and was quite interested by these pieces, the letter particularly. I was hoping to maybe find something else like that but, evidently, it was not so. The piece I found today is included below.

It had been sixty years since the death of the last master swordsmith. His death meant that man could no longer forge swords that would never break. His last known masterpiece was stolen from the king’s vault twelve nights ago. The governor’s son went missing at the same hour of the night last night. As that same hour approaches this night, more guards are seen wandering through the streets of the sleepy city.

The thief won’t be found, though. He made sure of that. But the body will. He made sure of that as well.

Slowly, a cloaked figure stalked through the back alleys, pausing every now and then as a different guard moved by on the streets. Soon, the cloaked figure alighted upon the great lawn out front of the library. Here, he created his scene, depositing the body of the governor’s son before he fled over the rooftops.

The thief paused on the wall that surrounded the city. He watched the silhouettes of guards roaming around below. They’d find his work soon enough. After a few moments, he turned his face skyward, enjoying the gentle breeze as he gazed at the stars. He was about to turn, to leave the city. He never intended on returning. Maybe he would though. It wasn’t something he had given much thought.

“Hey!” a voice called.

He whirled in time to see one of the wall sentinels dashing towards him. He cursed for a moment before drawing the stolen sword.

Rather interesting. It seems that many of these pieces that we find are only fragments of the original documents. I couldn’t say for sure whether the rest of these documents have been destroyed by the sea–or perhaps by the last of the city’s inhabitants as it sank–or if this is just how they were meant to be.

Signed,

Captain Davenport
3.21.14

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