5. The Road Forward
18 Frostglimmer 842, 3E
The salty air of the Emerald Sea has cooled considerably since I first arrived, the angering winter winds whipping against my face as I walk along the shores. It is along these shores where I have often found myself lost in thought since returning from our expedition.
I was but a child when I landed in the Crescent City harbor a mere eight months ago, greener behind the ears than a garden gnome who actually helped out his maiden. Despite this, I believed I was prepared for this new journey I was about to embark upon. I had studied the known regions of this land for two decades - more than four-fifths of my life! I knew everything a foreigner to this land could possibly know, and even more than that.
And I had trained. Oh, how I trained. I was both slow to blossom as a man, and entrenched in books, so I had never taken strongly to the games of combat the local boys often involved themselves in. And yet, I trained in these skills relentlessly, learning to wield sword and shield with all my sunlit hours for two years straight to prepare for this adventure.
Admittedly, I don't think I was prepared for how well I had prepared. Friends and comrades did not come quickly at home. In a village where few ever leave and fewer still ever return, a man's history cannot be separated from him. My disposition for the word above the sword or scythe denied me opportunity beyond the few odd jobs my scholarly background would prepare me for.
But as a new man in a new land, that which eluded me in my homeland
Admittedly, I don't think I was prepared for how well I had prepared. Friends and comrades did not come quickly at home. In a village where few ever leave and fewer still ever return, a man's history cannot be separated from him. My disposition for the word above the sword or scythe denied me opportunity beyond the few odd jobs my scholarly background would prepare me for.
But as a new man in a new land, that which eluded me in my homeland
The journey south from the Meadows of Luna was surprisingly docile, as the thirst for blood from the badland orcs seems to wane with the temperature. We did make an afternoon excursion to try and find the hidden grove we wandered into on our initial trip northward, but success was not to be found in this endeavor. We eventually staggered into Blackrock Reach late into Mistfall, taking a few eves to rest and rejoice in our astounding journey. We strained to keep our voices hushed as we revisited our encounters with Eamon Saelindal and our discovery of the secret grove. As part of this three day celebration, we added one additional member to our number, a young comrade of our most-connected member Silas Marrow. Ewan Cartwright is a young man with barely stubble upon his face, but a skill that none have been known to hold before him. Ewan, as Silas informed us, is capable to drawing an extremely detailed map of an area with nothing more than a verbal or written description of a place. Be it a single floor of a building, a mine, or even a natural map of an ecosystem, this young man can create a map of anything. Though seemingly stoic and shy upon our meeting, his sly smile began to show as Silas gloated about the many maps the young boy had furnished for him of Crescent City and beyond. Our team may even utilized these talents to make a return attempt for the secret grove. After three days of rest, we made our way downstream to Seward's Bay, from which we boarded a small merchant cutter, reaching the docks of the Crescent City in much shorter time than it had taken us to walk the Hundred Mile Road. Our entire team returned to our original headquarters at the Crescent City Inn that night, seeking one last night together before our paths diverged. Drunk off the libation of adventure, it was on this night, the 5th of Frostglimmer, that my understanding of this world changed forever.
Our group collected at a large table in the back corner of the tavern where the wonderful Telena kept the mead flowing for our group. At the peak of the tavern's business that evening, a barrel-chested man with puffy cheeks slid over to our table, standing behind our table silently as we laughed about a pair of orcs we had dispatched. Silas' face dropped when he realized the man was seemingly there for use, our voices quickly falling silent as we all, one by one, turned our gaze fully on the man.
His large brimmed hat hid his eyes well, but his smile shown bright from the torchlight just beneath the shadow across much of his face. With a prideful sneer to his voice, the man spoke to us.
His large brimmed hat hid his eyes well, but his smile shown bright from the torchlight just beneath the shadow across much of his face. With a prideful sneer to his voice, the man spoke to us.
Though we tried to continue rejoicing for the evening, a weight hung over us. The drink was able to keep the weight afloat, thankfully, but the displacement it created was noticeable. Eventually we returned to our rooms, I to the same room I had had when I first arrived to the Inn, a roll lovingly left on the foot of my bed from Telena. I had barely settled into my sleeping garments when a knock rapped at my door. Silas Marrow slipped into my room, hood over his head until I shut the door behind him. His voice was lowered as he asked me to take a seat on my bed, pulling up my chair and seating himself as he spoke. I was confused and concerned by the way he approached this meeting, but listened to him intently. With a deep breath, Silas began to tell me of the underbelly of this utopian land. While on the surface, everything in the Land of Trees appears peaceful and joyous, there was an epidemic of silent exploitation permeating mankind's footprint. Though Silas did not know exactly who it was that approached our table, he knew the man was in some way speaking for the elites of the Emerald Shores Alliance - the most affluent individuals of the region, and, as he explained it, the defacto leaders of the Emerald Shores Merchant Navy. As Silas explained, those of the ESA have eyes and ears everywhere, and though he was surprised it had taken less than 12 hours of landing in Crescent City for them to find us, he knew it was coming. As Silas told it, he had first encountered one of these men in his younger days of petty theft as the bastard child of an Emerald Point politician living on the streets of Crescent City. Caught in the middle of a petty theft, the man offered him forgiveness if he were to instead steal a prized artefact off a ship dock in the city's harbor for the man. Agreeing to the deal, Silas found himself in a game of cat and mouse for a handful of years, with various men approaching him for "favors" as they called them - requests to acquire certain items in exchange for turning a blind eye to other thefts he had committed.
As he aged, Silas left the most of his illicit ways behind, and with it, the requests for his skills all but dried up. Maturing into adulthood, however, only opened his eyes further. Used to operating in the 'shadows of daylight' as he called it, Silas' fascination with these men who approached him only grew stronger. Though each time it was a different person who approached him, one thing always remained true - whatever the men were wearing, their eyes remained hidden in shadow. This became a calling card that he would follow closely, finding himself eavesdropping on secret meetings and sneaking into hidden rooms around the city. What he learned during these adventures changed his understanding of the world, much like he was changing mine.
As I walk along the shoreline, I recall tales of old sailors in the tavern of my home. The truly weathered, worn, and beaten men who had somehow beaten the waves and beasts of the ocean back even harder. Their tales fueled my nightmares. Stories of harrowing moments that even many of the most immovable soldiers of the region would buckle under when faced. And yet, despite these violent, consistent risks to their lives, they never lost their yearning for the seas and adventure. These men, who had faced an almost certain death on many occasions hungered not for rest, but to push their journeys further on, seemingly tempting fate to toll their bell in the height of action rather than passively as most old men go. Those old sailors tales always seemed so impossible to me, yet I now gaze over the grey winter waters of the sea, and I understand them. There is darkness around every corner and under every wave. It is often contained, but it comes forth when it so chooses, and when it does, only the prepared survive. That survival changes a man in his core. He can no longer sit idly by, blind to the darkness that exists beyond the obvious. He must tempt it. He must challenge it. He must seek to gain domain over it, lest it gain domain over him. In three months' time, I head south. -- Delvin Faroe
Look not for the whites, the yellows, or reds,
but keep an eye out for the soft subtle blues,
for when the lotus blends in it is said,
change comes not from the gods but from you.
Great ending to this. :)
Explore Etrea | Summer Camp 2025
Thanks Emy! I'll admit, I thought we had two more chapters left in the challenge after this one, so I wound up crunching a lot in here. May look to give this entire journal a fresh rewrite one day...
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