New World - Chapter 1

“Captain Abelard sir! We've sighted land!” the shipman called from outside the Captain's Quarters. Seated inside at a wooden desk, Drygn Abelard looked up from his book at the door. Removing his monocle, considered an silly ancient relic by most these days, Captain Abelard sighed deeply. Clearly, the progress he had made reading 'Secrets of the Divine' would have to wait, much to his chagrin. Drygn slowly closed the tome before him and rose from the ornate chair he had commissioned from one of the most renowned craftsmen on the entire continent of Locrea. Blinking multiple times to clear the blurriness of his eyes, Drygn's mind left the wandering pages of his book and returned to the reality before him. The Ship Captain straightened and fluffed his commander's uniform, and glanced around the small room. “Captain's quarters”, at least on Bornian vessels, were only slightly larger than a budding mage's dormitory in one of the great scholarly temples of sorcery. Drygn wasn't complaining, however. Compared to the years he had spent as a shipman in his youth, sleeping among the rest of the crew in absurdly close quarters, this was paradise.




“Captain Abelard, sir, your orders?” the voice called again. Drygn, now fully returned to reality, cleared his throat and called back.


“Very good, shipman, prepare for landing I shall be on deck presently.”

“Yes, sir!” was the reply, followed by the sound of boots about-facing, and walking away briskly. Drygn made for the door, pausing briefly to adjust his outfit in the full-length mirror just before the entryway, and made his way out of his quarters and onto the deck. Bright sunlight blinded Drygn briefly as he stepped out into the open air, but he blinked it away, showing no outward signs of discomfort, as was befitting of his rank. Drygn could taste the salt of the ocean in the air. Exotic birds flew overhead, varieties he believed yet undocumented by the biologists of his homeland. This belief was confirmed as he glanced around the main deck of his ship, noting the white-uniformed individuals standing in groups of two or three. They conversed in hushed, yet excited tones, pointing at the birds, sketching or writing notes furiously.


Drygn Abelard paid them only the briefest of mind before ascending the metal stairs to the navigation deck, his heavily armored boots clanging against the textured steel with every step. The navigator was in place at the ornamental wheel, eyes locked on the artificial projection before him. Such a screen was necessary, not only to display the vitals and working metrics of the ship, but to provide a view from the front of the ship itself, unencumbered by the massive sails and masts that would block his view without it.


The navigator tore his view from the readouts and nodded unceremoniously to Drygn.


“Captain.” the navigator said respectfully, but curtly. Drygn didn't mind. He had known Ross Ilmand for most of his military career, and they had never stood on ceremony. Drygn had immense respect for Ross Ilmand's ability to pilot a vessel of any size, and Ilmand knew Drygn was more than a capable commander. An immense amount of trust had been born between the two of them during previous military campaigns.

Drygn nodded back and jibed at his long-time comrade. “About time you got us where we were going, old friend.” The poke was milder and less vulgar than it would have been in more private company, but the middle-aged navigator cracked a grin anyway.

“Sure would have helped if the captain kept proper discipline amongst his crew. A zoo, this place is.” Ilmand threw back. Drygn let out a heartfelt laugh and clasped his hand on the navigator's shoulder.


“A shame they never assigned a zookeeper to keep us in line, eh?” This brought a real, full smile to Ross Ilmand's face, and he laughed whole heartedly.


“Quite a day, Abelard, when they start paying zookeepers a military wage.”

The pair laughed and joked as the boat neared the growing landmass in front of them, much to the confused glances of the rest of the shipmen on the observation deck. Most of the crew had rarely seen their captain, beyond his appearances at meals, and the routine check of stations and procedure that were expected of a ship master. Drygn's tone grew slightly more serious as the boat came almost within range of docking procedures for unfamiliar territory.


“So, old friend, do you think the Eryans beat us here? Or are we to trust that good old Borian construction will give us an edge?”


The navigator shrugged in response. “I know they won't be anywhere near us even if they beat us here. If my gut, and what I'm seeing in front of me are anything to go on, the Eryan fleet will be hundreds of miles north of us. I mean look at the size of this coastline.” Ilmand gestured to the image on the screen before them. “It's beyond what we had possibly imagined by the looks of it. I'd wager this new world we're about to step foot into is about ten times the size the intelligence geeks estimated.” Abelard could only nod in response.

“I had thought as much too.” The smile had vanished form the captain's face, and he spoke solemnly now. “We have no choice but to approach this with the expectation that nothing will be what we expect.” The navigator cocked his eyebrow slightly at the last sentence, and glanced at his captain.


“Shouldn't that be an exciting prospect? Surely discovering a brand new continent is nothing to be so dour about, Abelard.” Drygn ignored the growing casual disrespect in his friend's tone, and spoke with a measured voice that betrayed his own growing anxiety at the approaching landing.


“Not knowing what to expect is not something any of us are used to, Ilmand. Not knowing what to expect means I can't plan ahead, and not planning ahead means trouble.” Ross Ilmand's confusion heightened at the captain's unexpected use of his last name in casual conversation, but then his shoulders relaxed and his countenance took on that of an older brother.


“You're an excellent leader of men, Captain Abelard, and all the men aboard this vessel would happily trot into hell singing songs of drink and merriment should you command them to.” The Captain looked to his navigator sharply as if to say something in response, but the navigator continued. “Everyone on this vessel feels the same way. No one knows exactly what to expect. The one thing that every man and woman aboard this vessel knows for certain is that their captain will keep them safe, and bring them home in glory.” Drygn Abelard was struck silent by the words of his friend and navigator. More than ever before, a feeling of brotherly love for this man who had, by fate's hand alone, ended up by his side for some of the most trying times in his life, welled up within him and threatened to overtake the necessity for military ceremony and custom.


Before he could think of something to reply with in appreciation of his friend's words, the warning alarm blared, signaling the ship's final approach to the coastline. Ross Ilmand's face immediately retook the stern countenance and focus of one of the Bornian fleet's greatest navigators, and he began swinging the wheel in wide arcs. “Sorry Captain, looks like social hour is over, hope you don't mind if we get back to the matter at hand.” Captain Drygn Abelard sprung into action at the words, heeding the urgency of his friend, who was yelling to be heard above the noise of the alarms. Movement of the crew had already begun at the queue of the noise, but Abelard shouted the proper commands anyway, ensuring none were outside their zone of responsibility.

“All hands! Prepare for unnatural approach and landing! Shipmen, too your posts, Lines in, and grav-sails up!” Drygn marched to the top of the observation deck stairs as he bellowed commands to his subordinates, who saluted upon being mentioned and move hastily to their posts. “Navigator, SitAn!” 'SitAn' was short for 'Situational Analysis', and called upon the navigator to give his opinion as to which procedures for a landing on an unfamiliar shore should be followed. Ross Ilmand did not hesitate in his response.

“Sitan abrubt redirect, Captain! Hard left, small beach adjoining forward rock formation!” Drygn had no need to look at the visual readout, he simply took his navigator's advice to heart and issued the appropriate commands in response.