A Few Breadcrumbs
- Enekos
- Aug 15, 2023
- 8 min read
The sea in docks of port of Veraku moved a little. Ancient oaks creaked and there were some shouts. There we no onlookers, save for couple of small children; maybe 8 or 9 years each who tried to explain what they’d seen to their mother sometime later…
“It was velly stranged,” began the eldest. “We knew it were a ship, cos we’d seen it,”
“But it kinda wasn’t there,” offered his sister.
“No, it was there, but then some mister started paintin’ grey and white and it kinda wasn’t there anymores…”
Dusk had fallen and the tall, once-nameless ship Behemoth, silently and cautiously moved away from the dock…
“And there was this cat with massif fangs,” the girl put two fingers at the side of her mouth to emphasise the word ‘fangs.’
“And yeah, it run right from the Barley thingamajig and edded for the crates, climbed ‘em and then there was this other mister all dressed in black n pink, runnin afters and,”
“Pink n black,” corrected the girl, “Look he dropped this,” the girl showed a muddy jack of spades card emblazoned with the words ‘union of trades, senior member’…
“And yeah, so ee climbs the crates,” continued the boy,
“After Fangy,” The girl made the fang sign again…
“And then the cat,”
“Fangy,”
“Yeah, Fangy, well it jumps from the tallest crate right at the ship that wasn’t there anymore, and some other Mister catches it, and he looks like he’s stood on the sea. And then the other Mister - the one in black n pink,”
“It was pink AND black,” corrected the girl stubbornly.
The boy looked at her and she made the fang face again. He sighed and continued, “Pink n black, well he jumps after the cat,”
“Fangy.”
“Yeah, Fangy and he lands with a massive thud….” The boy considered his word… “Yeah a thud, not a splash and all these other misters,”
“And ladies…”
“Yeah, well they all run at the mister, and they all have muskets and swords and then one shiny man…”
“He was night watchman and ee was so dreamy,” the girl hugged herself.
“Er yeah, well this night watchman, ee fell to his knees and started chantin ‘Fedalup’ or somefin…”
In the privacy of the Behemoth’s brig, Jean Flint, Mearaithe, and Mr Leaf, looked at the man dressed in pink and black. Despite Tirke’s protest, they were taking no chances with the union of trades spy who had fallen from the sky. The face grinned back at them.
“Jean Flint, man who was a soldier was a farmer, was never a murderer, was never Jean Flint…” began the spy, “And Mearaithe, the man who quarrelled with the union and lost everything, who lived in the sewers with his pretend cats, and Mr Leaf the retired engineer who found a true friend in the eyes of a real cat, but lost everything to the union of trades. I am Estevez Lacroix and I offer you my services…”
It didn’t take too long to recognise that another spy (one whom Shady the Elf respected) would be useful, especially now that the Behemoth had black sails – and was gathering more enemies than friends. Estevez Lacroix also shared some knowledge of the artifact with Jean Flint. He knew more, but trust was not easy to gain, so he chose selective silence…
As Snuggles (aka Fangy) will attest, the movement of a ship doesn’t agree with everyone. And soon into their first voyage, fractures began to appear in the uneasy alliance. It was mild at first, food being removed from the larder – even when your name was written on a slab of cheese. It would get worse, much worse.
Curiously, Divol trained to become a cheesemaker, and was destined for a dull life in the dull town of Arima, nestled on the edge of the Blue Sea and famed only for an ancient battle, so ancient that the dusts of time had, themselves, turned to dust.
He was a good cheesemaker and as no one ever ventured to Arima, it was his cart and horse that took the cheese across the Queendom. Every month he would load his cart with cheese and other personal supplies for the journey and begin the journey from town to village this side of the Menavariyam. And days before the end of each month, he would crawl back into his own bed in Arima.
Divol milked the same goats, had the same customers, met the same bandits, ate in the same taverns, greeted the same old friends in each town and village and never once had a problem. Well, once. Once he had a problem. Well, not a problem. Once he killed someone.
By someone, I mean a village.
It was not intentional. Divol was not intentionally bad. Nor was he intentionally dishonest. It was merely ill-fortune that when the old cheesemaker Sandringam Hill of the same village name retired and moved across the world, Divol stepped-up to teach a young acolyte (whose name is lost – but that matters not, as he was one of the first victims) how to make cheese. But Divol didn’t have the same ingredients as those found in Arima, so he made his best guess at something comparable. And his best guess wasn’t good.
One of his cheese recipes had a red fruit, but here in Sandringam Hill (population 34), that fruit wasn’t available. So, he used the next best thing crushing the fruit, seeds, and all, into a pulp, letting it dry and then adding it to the cheese. Don’t get me wrong, it was delicious, but it was the seeds that were the problem.
His added misfortune was when 12 members of the city watch of Weifu happened to pass through the village and half decided to taste Divol’s new cheese. And, within the next three days, exactly six of them died, leading the commander to one conclusion. A return to Sandringam Hill (population 0) confirmed his suspicion and a warrant was issued for the arrest (dead or alive) of the mass-murder known as ‘Divol of Arima’.
News often travels faster than a cheesemonger with a horse and cart, what with the goose delivery service, which carried more weight farther than any pigeon could. And so, the first thing to greet Divol at the next town was a rough sketch of his face, an unusually high reward, and an inference on the word ‘dead.’ After the shock passed him, and the confusion, and the remorse, and the panic, he just fled, leaving a trail of cheese in his wake.
By the time he’d stopped crying, a day had passed, and he realised his horse had taken the low pass over the Menavariyam and he was now heading towards Veraku and a fateful meeting with an elf called Shady.
The rest is history… so let’s skip forward
The sight of the Blue Sea and the upcoming port of Ghenu made Divol smile. Nervously.
Ghenu was a bustling town where Blood Satyr honoured his promise to leave the ship and begin the long trek home to the temple of Jaxstead Zeus. It was a tearful time, and Zeuser was hit hard losing his closest friend and teacher…
While in Ghenu, the crew adopted the banner of the Black Sails and any parchments with the names Mafia Cats, or the killers were burned in campfires. And then, the Behemoth began sailing uncharted waters, often crossing into territory belonging to criminal families, sparking blood feuds, battles with the queen’s ships and mercenaries seeking the bounty of gold and diamonds. Far from Veraku, they had no real friends, poor battle strategy, and a leader who cared more about his personal wealth and power.
A little time longer thought Shady…
Three moons after the first visit to Ghenu, the crew of the Black Sails found themselves on the wrong beach, on the wrong island with arrows and fire raining down upon them. They were pinned down and despite his desire to stay in the background, Divol knew the Blue Sea better than most and he took a command that no one else wanted.
But a cheesemaker is not a battle commander and Divol didn’t see the harm in responding to the requests flown in by the geese. These were old customers, who asked him many questions about where his ship was, what kind of food to bring for the feast, how many people to feed, whether they’d like to visit the forests or the crater lake.
Sometimes the wisest answers only reach us after the damage is done, The Battle of Four Island is one stain in the early formation of the Black Sails. But this is a story that had to be told – it was a pivotal event, that would become the spark for a ship that leads a rag-tag fugitive fleet on a lonely quest across the Blue Sea. And the events described here are over and forgiven. Mistakes were made on all sides and rage gave way to nurturing and learning…
Divol’s courage had lead him along a dark and unforgiving path. Many on the Behemoth treated him badly. He was arrested, thrown in the brig and while some wanted him executed immediately, it was agreed to limp back to the port of Ghenu, seek repairs and decide what to do.
Once docked, Mearaithe took his belongings and left the ship. He wanted no part of what would happen next. Jean Flint agreed. This was not the venture he’d envisaged and he too left.
In the end, leniency played out and Divol was thrown off the ship and, warned not to return. For an entire year he obeyed.
Shady the Elf hated losing the tall, nameless ship to Crackovitch. He’d come to terms with the merger of three houses and he saw the benefits. But now things were coming undone. Jean Flint and Mearaithe were gone, his friend Divol had been kicked off the ship by Capitan Igor and now he had to remove this man, one way or the other.
Ghenu became a haven for the crew of the Behemoth and Shady enlisted the help of Estevez Lacroix, Janna Steel, xGentleman, and Lady Penelope to create an authentic and seemingly ancient map of the catacombs of Erinthrea. Between them, they found mapmakers and lore writers who, for a few gold coins, asked no questions and provided convincing results.
The map and lore were the end points of the breadcrumbs that would pit a man’s ego against himself. To be the first person to navigate the catacombs and return with an impossible-to-imagine treasure, well…
Once sold on the idea, it became an obsession, but he still needed the key.
Away from the Behemoth, Jean Flint let off some steam with the massacre of armies as updated his battlecraft skills. Deeds of the raging bull reached far and wide, but so too did the rumours that he wanted a ship.
And when, three moons later Jean Flint did return, he demanded changes to the way the ship was run. He demanded that a stash of goods was created and maintained, he demanded new defences and weapons, a proper chain of command, and the creation of allies in the wars to come.
In his cabin, Crackovitch saw this as the only way a sane person would. Jean Flint wanted his ship and his money. As he seethed, he noticed Shady the Elf standing silently, his face hidden by goddamn hood. In one hand Shady held a sealed envelope which he offered to Crackovitch, who considered its unexpected weight silently. He opened it, read the contents and the smile of greed spread across his face.
He looked at Shady once more and beckoned him to leave.
The final breadcrumb…
The catacombs of Erinthrea are notoriously difficult to navigate. A ship must sail beneath the Menavariyam, where a path wide enough for one man, must be climbed. The lore told of collapsed bridges and ancient traps, and a key that opened a door to the treasures beyond.
Igor Crackovitch had the lore, the map, and the key - assembled by his cunning alone. He chose a handful of trusted souls, bought from the local tavern in Ghenu and smiled at the riches that awaited him.
Once safely inside the catacombs, Shady the elf smiled. He turned to Jean Flint and asked, “Where to now Capitan Flint?” Jean Flint looked around at the gathered pirates who each nodded in approval.
“Let’s go find Divol, Mr Shady. I think we need to apologise.”
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