It might take long before this letter finds you. You might not even know or remember me. It was a brief flicker of time — I saw you. And nothing has felt quite the same since.
I’ve spent days wondering what color your eyes truly are, and whether you hum to yourself while washing dishes. Silly details, I know. But isn’t that how love begins — not with fireworks, but with the sound of someone laughing at just the right moment?
I don’t expect anything from this note. I only wanted you to know: for a single, quiet heartbeat in this vast world, you were deeply noticed. And cherished — if only from afar.
Maybe that’s enough. Maybe not. But it’s real. — A stranger who saw the sun differently after seeing you
Belle was surprised when the man walked up to the bakery with a letter for her. She held it in her hand and looked about the quiet lands, seeing no one except for the man as he climbed into his serpent and sailed off into the distance. Turning and getting a tankard of mead she went and sat at the table and opened the letter and began to read. Her eyes skimming the paper for some sort of clue as to who would of written such words. Was this a horrid prank from her brothers, or a cruel trick of the God’s. Her heart still clung to the man who gave his life for the lands. But after reading such words she felt the small glimer of warmth from her cold heart. Only briefly though as she finished her tankard and folded the letter up placing it in her pouch and returned to work not giving it another thought, for now anyway.
The second letter arrives with a merchant. When asked the merchant only knows that it arrived with supplies. The scroll is tied with a blue ribbon and it says:
Dear Belle,
It is strange that I can’t be truly sure for these letters to reach you. They must cross perhaps so many hands to come to you that I dare to question if they come in the right order. I just have to trust that meeting you was a Godly intervention.
I don’t know if you kept the letter. Maybe it fluttered away in a breeze. But I meant every word. Still do. The world feels strangely richer since I wrote it — as if that moment of seeing you etched something permanent into my days.
I’ll stop here, before this turns into another confession. Only this, then: you were lovely. You are lovely.
And if nothing else, at least this letter got to say so.
The days of the letter had passed. Belle busied herself moving through each day as if ok auto drive. Her focus for anything other then her orders at the bakery had long vanished.
This day Belle was accepting the supplies from the traveling merchant. As she signed the manifest and handed it back to the man his eyes grew wide as if there was something else. That name, he thought to himself..then its as if a switch went off and he held his finger up to Belle and rushed over to a bag filled with scrolls, where he pulled one out and smiled..”This belongs to you also” he said handing it to her and turned to finish his business.
Belle stood there woth the letter in her hand the blue ribbon binding it. Unsure of what it was, as she had hoped it was from her brother or sister in their new lands telling her of her niece and nephews. Stepping over and settling down on the bench she tugged on the ribbon having it unroll in the palm of her hand. Reading it she couldn’t help but to first frown as she looked about for someone but found nothing.
Her eyes skimmed over the letter again and with it held tightly in her fingers she couldn’t help but to grin and rest the hand with the letter in her lap as she looked out upon the waters. Thinking of who this person was and when did they meet.
Every day he wrote a letter and yet not all would truly arrive. But the urge of writing became more and more of moment of calm in his restless life. Some spoke of his feelings, while others wrote of his dreams. And again one letter finds you via the hand of a merchant.
My dearest Belle, I wasn’t going to write again. Not really. But then I passed a bakery where the aroma of freshly baked bread transported me back — and I thought of you. I always do.
There’s a strange comfort in writing to you, like pressing my palm to the warmth of a stone that’s been sitting in the sun. You never asked for these letters. You might not even know from who they are. But they’ve become the way I breathe deeper — as if naming this feeling gives it permission to be real.
You still don’t know me. Maybe you never will. But in a world full of danger and noise, you felt like silence — not the lonely kind, but the kind that wraps around you and says, “Stay.”
There’s beauty in restraint, I suppose. In loving without expectation. In carrying someone quietly inside your every day. I won’t say more. I’ve said enough in ink already. But I’ll keep this ritual — writing, folding, letting go — like a lantern drifting on a still lake.
Not expecting this to reach you. Just to remember that once, you made something inside me feel weightless. — Still a stranger, but no longer empty
Belle had missed the delivery on the day the next letter arrived, she had spent the day in the forest collect berries and just taking in all that the God’s surrounded them with, the beauty the unknown. She once enjoyed the time alone but since her days gad grown cold and dark, the happiness that allowed the light the shine through casted out by nothing but shadows now.
Reaching the bakery and walking in to supplies on her table, she at first didn’t notice the letter, not until the rolled up scroll rolled off a crate and onto the floor. Catching it out of the corner of her eye she couldn’t help but to be hopeful. Picking it up and taking it out onto the porch where she sat and read it. Her mind really began to race. Who was this man, where did she meet him. How could she respond to him?
She sat back in the chair and for the first time in a very long time she felt the sunshine on her face, the warmth of the kiss of the sun. Closing her eyes to enjoy it for the moment as she held the letter in her hand and a soft smile curled upon her lips.
This will be the last one.
Or at least, that’s what I’ve tell myself everytime.
It’s strange — how a person you only casually met can become a thread woven through your every season. You, who never asked for this.
And yet, I’ve written to you. Not because I believed I had the right, but because I didn’t know how else to keep this feeling alive. Writing has been my only way of holding truth still long enough to see it clearly.
But now, I find myself wanting more.
Not more letters. More courage.
Strange that this is what is missing. I can face a knife without trembling. And yet when I think of meeting you. I don’t know if that frightens me or sets me free. What I do know is this: if someday — perhaps soon — you find a man standing quietly nearby, hands tucked nervously into his belt, watching the flowers near the bakery or a small gathering near the long hall… that may be me.
I’m not asking for anything. Not your heart. Not even your attention. Only the chance to exist without shadows. To let you know that all of this — the ink, the ache, the wonder — came from somewhere real.
Until then, I remain — Still anonymous, for now. But not for long – so I tell myself.
A merchant comes grinning to the baker stall. “Well Belle, you seem to have an admirer.” he jested totally unaware of the content of the letters. But it was getting the attention of some that these letters with the blue ribbon became more frequent. “This was given with great urgency. The child that brought it even asked if the one that was delivered earlier could be taken and replaced. Of course I would not do such a thing.” he shook his head “I even think the child might have been mistaken. As it was unsure from which the order and this letter came.” He would give the letter. As always the same blue ribbon tied it together. When you unfurl it a small flower that seemed to have been pressed within it falls to the floor.
My Dearest,
I just hope this letter will be more quick—rushed by winds, hurled across distance with the speed of lightning—so it may find you before hesitation catches me once again. If there is any God who peers down upon me with some affection, I pray it guides this message to you before my previous one will.
For I was a fool to even suggest that my last letter would be final. How can it be, when I cannot stop? I cannot stop writing, cannot stop breathing you into every silent space I occupy. My heart refuses to forget. It longs for that brief moment, that single glance that left me weightless and wanting.
You’ve undone me. I never knew these feelings before. This sensation of being adrift and yet more myself than I have ever been. To be both found and lost in the same breath. To be so thoroughly captivated and yet uncertain. You are like some delicate bloom growing wild in an untamed meadow too lovely to pluck, too rare to risk fading.
And who am I to even reach? Not one of those refined southern men with words that charm like wine, nor a northern giant whose strength could silence doubt. I have neither finesse nor force. Only this, this small moment in this quiet corner of the world where I write to you and pretend, to be the man I wish I could be.
Ever yours in silence, but I keep writing.
Ps. Next time I will try and sent something pretty. But I first need to obtain it.
As the merchant approached she hoped it would be, then she saw the letter with the blue ribbon, just like the one she began to tie her hair with. A smile beamed from ear to ear as her eyes danced with happiness. With a raised brow she looked at the man when he spoke “urgency you say” she then looked down to the letter then back up to him “if you would wait, I have one to return to where this came from. Please I dont know if you know but I have to at least try.. just one moment and ill be back.” She quickly hurried off to the bakery where she read the letter, her heart began to flutter briefly as she read it. Quickly setting it off to the side and began to write one back.. a chance she had to take, a slim chance knowing nothing! With the dried flower close she began
To the the man who broke the darkness,
This is a long shot, not knowing who you are or where you are or even what you look like. But its a chance I have to take. Sending you words of my own.
You’ve taken the darkest of days and beamed your ray of light down upon me, brightening everything I do, shinning so bright.
I’ve found myself watching not to see if a letter is to be delivered. Feeling my cold heart filled woth warmth each time it does. My eyes scan the docks, the hall, the paths to see if someone is standing there. But nothing! I’ve found myself hugging myself tightly as I stand on the edge of a cliff looking oht and over it. Even though it be my arms i long for yours.
Come to me, tell me whom you are, I beg of you
Becoming yours, Belle
Rolling it back up and knowing the same blue bow around it, this time though taking a pink flower from the bakery walk and tucking it in tightly as she ran to the merchant and handing it to him..”Give this to the man who’s been giving you mine, or how ever its been happening, pleade I beg you” then reached in and handed him a few coin hoping it would help.
Some time later …
The boy gripped the letter loosely, yet with caution. He hadn’t dared read it—of course not—but something in the way it had been folded made it feel alive and special. He couldn’t explain it, only that it seemed with something heavier than words: hope, maybe, or sorrow tucked between the lines. He didn’t know who the sender was, but he knew—deep in his chest—that something inside this paper mattered. And so he had rushed to the bakery as his father had explained that this letter was to be delivered immediately. “Miss Belle!” the boy called, his voice bright against the hush of the afternoon. “There’s another one,” he added, holding the letter like something sacred and strange. He didn’t move, only stood there with wide eyes. “There’s something in it,” he whispered then, as if he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. A secret, maybe. Or a heart, carefully folded. As the scroll would be unfurled a small gem fell out of it. Not the kind one would often see. Surely something precious.
My Ray of Light,
As I sat to write you, fate intervened—I was handed a letter. Strange, perhaps, but before I even unfolded it, I lifted it to my face, hoping against hope for that familiar fragrance I so vividly remember. Foolish, I know. The merchant who brought it had no knowledge of the precious cargo he carried. It bore instead the scent of sweat and suls. Yet if words had a scent, if ink could carry the essence of meaning, I’d be intoxicated by the very first breath of yours.
Still, the moment made me smile, like a boy triumphant in his first battle, convinced now he will conquer the very world he walks upon. I remember that boy. I remember his vision, the golden future he believed in. I am not that man – I wished to become. But perhaps one day I’ll find the courage to tell you the story of the shadows, the storms and quests. I only wonder… will your light dim if I offer the truth of my darkness?
Tonight, in the hush between heartbeats, I picture you. I see you on that cliffside, arms around yourself as the wind tries to steal your warmth. And from where I sit, I ache to close the space between us—to fold you in my arms and whisper to your ears that you are safe, you are cherished. For as long as I may, I will treasure you.
Ask anything of me, and I shall obey. But this—this confession—is the one task I tremble to complete. To tell you who I am beyond these letters… that frightens me. For never before have I spoken so truthfully, so deeply. And what becomes of a man, once his heart has been so gently, yet so entirely, stolen?
Yours in silent awe, — Anonymous
Ps. This gem was the first thing I ever truly won. It is something one can not give to anyone but the one that is more precious then the gem itself.
In the hustle and bustle of the docks, Belle went about her daily ways, the sounds of the birds landing and sqawking while they fasted on the scraps of fish being tossed aside. The laugher of the people trading woth the merchants that had docked. Her basket hooked on her arm and her thoughts with the man who seemed to light her ways in the words he leaves. Hearing her name she stopped and turned around only to see a young boy run with something in his hand, the blue ribbon she caught right away. A smile gleaming from ear to ear. Handing him a cookie she took the letter and sent him on his way.
Finding an empty bench at the edge of the dock she carefully opened the letter and catching the gem. Her eyes danced with the way the sun would hit it. Bringing it to her lips she held it close while she read the letter.
Once finished she folded it up and leaned back once again closing her eyes as she imagined the scene he laid before her on the cliff. The flashing to the boy he once was and wondered who he was now. Pulling out a scroll she decided to teat fate once again and began to write using the bench to press against.
Im so thankful you were able to receive my letter, I was unsure that it would ever touch your hands. The God’s saw that it did, so im trying once again. Thank you for the gem, I will cherish it and keep it close to me at all times, when I lose my breath in my lungs I will clench it in my hands for it to never leave me.
I nae know of the man nor the boy but im beginning to know of the one who is writing me, and nothing that you’ve done or storms you’ve mastered could change the person in my eyes that sits and writes me. I’ve often pictured you sitting there at your desk, your face lightened by the candle thar burns fiercely beside you. If only I meet this man who has letter by letter given me reason for hope. A reason to smile. As I hope ive done for you.
Tell me of our first meeting, give me that, I beg of you
Yours through the dancing rays of light when you look upon the sun, Belle
Rolling the letter and placing but a dark lilac ribbon around it. And set out to search for the boy whom delivered hers. As she found him she gave him the letter and a few coin. “Please give this to the man you recieved it from and hopes that the God’s take it the rest of the way’ she patted his head and went about to the bakery lost in her newly found dream land
He had been writing, yes—but these past days, the words refused to obey him. Each letter scratched across the page felt lifeless, unworthy. Crumpled pages gathered at his feet, rolling like driftwood across the wooden floor of his cabin as the sea rocked him gently. They whispered among themselves like quarrelsome ghosts: fragments of longing, of dreams too fragile to bear the weight of ink.
She had begged for a letter. A simple thing, really. How could he deny her such a tender plea? And yet, the tremble in his hand betrayed the storm within. Would he survive her silence—if silence came? Could his heart weather that particular kind of tempest?
Still… hope had crept in. Slow at first, shy like moonlight on dark water. He dared to dream. He saw her there on the dock, dress billowing in the salt-heavy breeze, one hand shielding her eyes, the other raised in joy. A smile—yes, he imagined that most of all. That she would be glad he had returned. Was that not the secret yearning of every sailor? That someone waits?
In the rich tapestry of his longing, she did not stand alone. No. In time, perhaps, a small figure would appear beside her. A child—his child—eyes wide, heart innocent. Or more than one. A family. A future.
And yet… what did he have to offer them? A purse heavy with ill-gotten gold, perhaps. But honor? A name that might be carried with pride? No. His deeds were shaded in smoke and blood. He was no hero of tales, no merchant of virtue. He was a thief. A pirate. A wretch cloaked in charm, living off the misfortune of others and calling it necessity.
Still, he wrote. Because in those scattered scraps, in those ghostly quarrels of paper, lay the one fragile hope that love might still anchor him to something pure.
My dancing ray of light,
I have begun this letter more times than I dare count. A thousand times, perhaps more. Because this letter… it could change everything. What if you already know who I am? What if your next words carry sorrow or anger? The fear of that has held my hand still for longer than I care to admit.
And yet, these letters—these quiet confessions sent across—they have been my lifeline. They linked me to something beautiful in a world I’ve long wandered without anchor. Like a single flower pushing through refuse to reach the sun, you reminded me what it is to feel warmth again. How could I ever deny the plea of the one I now carry in my thoughts like a flame?
So here it is. The truth, or as close as I can bring myself to write.
We met only briefly in Hjartaskjold, a village small enough that you’d think the world paused when you laughed. And for me, it did. In that sliver of time, not only did I see you. I found in this village a friend. One who remains, to this very moment, the most cherished I’ve known.
Belle, I have not had an easy life. Since boyhood, I’ve carved my path alone, salvaging meaning from hardship. And yet… when I think of you, I understand why some might see me as unworthy. Why even I sometimes do.
But still—I hope.
Your lilac ribbon is tied to the key of my cabin. It’s a simple thing, but every night as I slip inside, it reminds me that beneath the same star-scattered sky walks someone who has stirred something better in me. Someone who makes me want to be worthy. And that someone is you.
Yours—no matter the tides, A man learning how to hope again
Belle had received the letter, given by the same boy that carried the smile of innocence. She dared not to ask him of the man who wrote such words to her. Words that had brought yet a smile to her lips, a spring to her step abd for once in a very long time a new reason to breath perhaps?
She found herself sitting on the bench that sat at the top of the cliffs over lookimg the rough waters. The stars mapped out above her as if tracing the lines from one heart to a other, a string that binded them together.
My moon,
I’ve given you a name this night as I sit under the star lit sky, the moon shining its soft beam down along the waves below, guiding my hand as the in flows upon the paper, that paper that I am now touching and you soon will touch if the God’s once again allow.
You speak of being unworthy, but to me you are proving to be worthy. I not have the easiest path that has been paved that ive walked. I’ve lost love, or what I thought was love. I lost a child, one who I cherished more then myself. My family separated and off on their adventures while I sit here alone….till you. I’ve been given a reason to smile, to bring air into my lungs. You say we’ve met in the village, a village that ive met many upon the docks. Still unknown on who you are, how is it I feel my heart beat again for someone I know not of, how is it that ive been told the brightness in my eyes have again returned. I dare to think the God’s are playing a trick on me, they laugh at my longing. Or am I to love from afar because if its close they will be taken from me. These are things ive thought of often, more so now then ever.
Your words have brought a sense of purpose to me. A sense of reason. So even if I never lay my hues upon yours, or touch your hand, witness the smile upon your face. Your words are enough.
My moon, dont be ashamed of the road you’ve traveled. Be proud. You are the man you are because of that road. Cherish it, embrace it.
And know when you wake each day, and sleep each night that you are cherished and adored, know that there is someone who longs to feel your breath upon her skin, to feel your arms around her. That someone is me! I will be looking at the moon when the height of darkness meets the rays the moon gives off. Perhaps if you look then too, we will know some where out there we are both at the same place at the same time.
I plan to visit my brother soon and my best friend his wife. If you go sometime with out hearing from me its because im there and have not recieved anything from you. I plan to tell the boy whom delivers yours where I will be so that they can be passed on. I not think I can go too long with out one now. Ive included a bit of myself, I dont have gems or treasures but only a piece of me.
Yours through the night rays, Belle
PS…you mention a friend, perhaps they are also a friend if mine?
She then took her dagger and cut off a piece of her sunkissed locks, tieing it with the same lilac ribbon. Her hair. She also took some ramberry dye along her lips and pressed them to the paper, leaving behind a kiss for him to take with him always. Perhaps if the letter wasnt handled too much he would get a scent of again lilac that was sprinkled on the paper as well. Rolling it up and tieing it with the same ribbon, a color of her own. Finding the boy and handing it off in hopes he would recieve it.
As the letter arrived he could tell by the lilac ribbon it came from her. This time he would take his time. Perhaps afraid of what might be in it. As she asked more of him, he knew the risk of losing it were high. In his cabin he would write. He doubted it was in true secrecy as he had been asking for more papyrus. Niamh had observed him, but had not asked him as to why. But for some reason he believed her far more observant than most would give her credit for. In truth he was sure that there was far more to this woman than Portus dared to tell him. Even if their friendship was rock solid.
The lilac ribbon he tied around his wrist. A constant reminder of the woman that had captured the one honorable man that for some odd reason still lived in his heart. As he started to read his brow raised in question and in doubt.
[04:40] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) came in his brows knitted together as he was contemplating things that were far more serious than his expression normally would show. “Greetings Portus.” he offered. He looked about “This is rare .. to find you alone .. in here.” it was only an observation – no judgment. “Do you have a moment ?” he asks.
[04:44] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): smiles warmly seeing his friend appear although noting he still held the disposition that had indicated he had not been himself for a little while…”of course my friend….Niamh is in the fields an i am only at my papers…you look grave does something trouble you?”
[04:46] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) would again look about himself as to ensure they were alone. “Can we walk ?” he asks. “There has been something that is on my mind and …” he paused. “Perhaps I should ..” he did not end his sentence. “Did I see correct that you invited your entire familly ? Do you know who is to come ?”
[04:48] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): stands a little concerned yet willing to listen to his good friend who had many times listened to him….”come we shall walk to the fishing lake” clasps his arm in a comforting manner and heads out of his ofice
[04:49] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) nodded “Good.” he replied as he would follow his lead.
[04:51] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): relaxes enjoying the sound of the water and waits on Silas…clearly there was something troubling him
[04:52] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) had been quiet during the walk. And as they finally took a seat he leaned backwards. “Do you remember that day when I came to the shores of Hart for the first time?” he asks. The lilac ribbon around his wrists was just briefly touched. As he too stared over the water. Trying to find something to focus upon. Not yet in the mind to truly face his friend. “I met your sister there.” he would cuts a glance now to Portus as to see how this would land.
[04:56] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “how could i forget you were bringing me Runa…that day is etched in my mind forever….not only did i gain an exceptional bond but a good friend and dare i say brother?” smiles at the recollection….”I do believe Belle was there also”…makes a motion for the man to continue as he seemed to be struggling to say something
[05:01] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) chuckles when Runa was mentioned.”yes … if I had known ..” he teased. This time a little more boy’ish than normal. “Yes, I can’t even imagine this doing without you. And you can call me anything. I just try to live up to it.” he stated. He again searched for words. “I met her in the bakery. I think it wasn’t all that long after her and Magnus. Niamh told me their tragic story.” he shared. “Now … I know of this code .. this code not to pursue a sister of a friend. So … ” he paused again “I did not … But ever … ” he would now bring his hands in fists as if beating himself up for this weak attempt to speak of his heart. “How would you feel if I … would try to court her if she would want me ?”
[05:05] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): feels a natural joy bring a smile to my face….”did i not just call you brother?….she has a soft spot for you which is easy to see…but i must ask how in earnest over this matter….her heart has been crushed too many times for me not to consider this as a father would”
[05:09] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) smiled as Portus gave something he considered his approval “I have been writing her letters. Anonymous as I didn’t have the guts to expose myself instantly. I never felt this before.” he admitted. “I had plenty of woman. As you know Carlotta .. if it weren’t for that thrall … I might never truly have seen the extend of these feelings.” he pondered “Did you ever consider my past or how I made my fortune ?”
[05:13] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “it’s a subject i waited for you to broach as what i saw in you i judged to be honourable and the rest would come if you wished to relate it….you are by no means a saint …who of is are…and no doubt have left many women in the wake of the storm crow so if you say you are serious in your pursuit of my sister i will take you at your word”
[05:18] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) understood in these moments why there had been formed a deep friendship. Portus was a man that was reasonable, dealing with things on face value. “I do not share much of my past. As it is paved with events that would not make me the best mate in this world. In fact I would be the man most mothers would warn their daughters for. That fortune was made over the corpses of others.” he shared.
I never saw myself as the type that would court an honest woman. I mean Belle did have her share or grief. Would I not be another that is eventually setting her up for more ?”
He paused “Either way … I think it is best that I will not be here when all your family members meet up. Say I am on a trip to Victoria or some other destination. I am not yet ready to truly face her.”
[05:23] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): finally understood wht the question had now been asked earlier…”you know that Elodi will be very disappointed if you are not here?”…..takes a moment to reflect….”you say you have written her letters?”…puts up a hand…”please i do not wish to know the contents better for a brother not to know but if you cannot be here how are you going to let her know it was you and how would you know her response?….”i will happily say whatever you wish but is this not a good opportunity?”
[05:27] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) chuckled “Elodi.” he echo’d. “She is quite the firecracker.” he mused with amusement. “She might be a handful for her father, but she has become a remarkable young woman. Who ever she ends up with is one lucky bastard. But one that with one step outside what is acceptable will be a dead man walking.” he replied.
“No I can’t face all your family members and tell her it was me.” he replied. “I truly couldn’t deal with the embarrassment if she rejects me.” he sighed. “This is no … casual fling, Portus. I think I truly lost my heart to her.”
[05:31] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): looks surprised as this is the first time that he had appeared thus…”you know if i didn’t think you were then i could not give my blessing for she is all i have left as the others have scattered now….but you must know one way or the other for this maudlin mood is not good for you. How would it be if i spoke to her when she comes and save you that embarassment?”
[05:34] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) tried to reason the words he shared. “She started to ask more and more questions about my identity in her replies. “Perhaps you can talk to her about this. See if she might have hopes on who it might be ? If she thinks it is someone else ?” he would frown. than.
“Try to speak to her about it. But please be discrete. Will you ?”
[05:36] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “you can trust me on discretion…brother….i hold many secrets already…i will take a walk around the land with her and ‘sound her out’ but i am sure you must be on her mind”
[05:38] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) laughs “Yes, well perhaps as this annoying bug she wants to crush.” he jested. Getting back in a more normal state of mind. “I know I can trust you, Portus. As I said … I leave all I have here for you if ever something happens to me.”
[05:41] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “how could anything happen to you…you are invincible!”….smiles as bahirah appears always a welcome sight
[07:48] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “oh what a lovely surprise…Belle!….extends my arms for an embracee
[07:48] Belle Stromberg (bellewhitlocke): Arriving to the land where her brother lived and pushed the scroll of the name down in her pouch, Walking along the docks she turned the corner and there he was. Smiling wide.. “Portus” she says as she rushes to his arms and hugs him so tight…”Tis good too see you”
[07:49] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “it has been tooo long….gives her a loving kiss to her cheek….how are he buns?”
[07:50] Belle Stromberg (bellewhitlocke): she looks up and smiled as she steps back “Aye it has been, the buns are making my worth, How is the family, Niamh the kids, Ive missed you all so much”
[07:53] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “Niahm has been working hard with preparing meals…..as you may guess Elodi remains spirited”…puts a hand to my forehead and shakes it….”a fathers nightmare but it seems she is thriving….Caspian is less in touch than i would like but the last i heard he was prospering”
[07:55] Belle Stromberg (bellewhitlocke): she laughs as she looks about then back to him again “Niamh is always a busy bee, and Elodi, well just let her thrive, dont hold her back too much..Besides i do believe that child has always been one to get your goat going..she reminds me alot of myself when i was younger” she shakes her head “Caspian has always been a loner, kinda like you in that time of your youth.. I recall being little and the parents worried about you on your off adventures.. so sounds as if your Children are doing just as they should be” she winks and kisses his cheek.
[07:57] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): places a protective arm around her shoulder….”come see how we now have a lake to fish and there is a matter i need to discuss with you”
[08:01] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): [07:58] Belle Stromberg (bellewhitlocke): canting her head up towards him..”A matter, Portus ive been sticking to my own, i have not caused any trouble or grief, i speak to no one, so whatever the matter is i didnt do it, but show me this lake anyway”
[08:00] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): smiles as she repeats the answer to everything ever since she could talk…..”i’ve nay hear any bad of you so nothing to worry about”
[08:02] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): spies his mate in the shed and Pauses…”look who has come to visit”
[08:02] Niamh Strömberg (karlotte.shelman) spied Belle from where she was and instantly moved towards her. “Belle!!!”
[08:04] Niamh Strömberg (karlotte.shelman) wrapped her aarms around her. Checking for any cuts and bruises. “Waht a lovely surprise … or shall I say how wonderful you have come !” she would look back to Portus. Her eyes lit up with love and adoration. “Thankfully all is done in time. Are you showing Belle the lake ?”
[08:05] Belle Stromberg (bellewhitlocke): She smiled and hugged her dearest friend “Niamh!!!! i couldnt stay away any longer, i had to come and visit, ive missed you all so much”
[08:07] Niamh Strömberg (karlotte.shelman) laughs “Well I was about to ask Silas to take me to you or have him bring you here.” she answers. “It has been way too long.”
[08:07] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “aye there will have been some changes since she was last here”
[08:09] Belle Stromberg (bellewhitlocke): laughs “Silas, Have i met him?” she asks then looks about to the couple..”you two bring such joy to this old heart, im so happy for you both” she hugs her friend again as if savoring the moment a bit longer then normal..”Its been too long”
[08:10] Niamh Strömberg (karlotte.shelman) nodded “Oh yes some changes indeed.” she would look over her shoulder. “I need to finish a few things. Shall I bring some refreshments to the lake ? ” she asks.
[08:11] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “come let us talk then you can both catch up”…smiles as his mate as usual sees to everyones needs…”that would be perfect..I think i would like some Ale”
[08:15] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “I hope you are hungry …as you can see Niamh has not stinted”
[08:16] Belle Stromberg (bellewhitlocke): laughs..”When does she, i not one for an appetite as of late but ill munch on something after the sea leaves me settled enough to eat something…This place is beautiful”
[08:18] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “then come enjoy the peace of the lake ’tis a quiet spot to talk”
[08:20] Belle Stromberg (bellewhitlocke): She followed and sat down on the chair warming byh the fire “so what be so important that cant wait.. ” shed look over to him
[08:22] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): strokes his beard as he considers the best way to broach the subject and decides to come right to the point….”I hear you have been in the receipt of some letters?”
[08:24] Belle Stromberg (bellewhitlocke): Well that isnt what she was expecting, in face she became a bit angry “You what?” she asks..”Do you have spies on me, do you not think i can handle being alone Portus.. You know at some point in time you will have to learn that i dont need to be coddled, im not the little girl that you once knew. I cant believe you have spies on me..” she grew more upset by the moment. “If i recieve letters then that be of my business not yours”
[08:27] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): holds up my hands in a calming gesture fully expecting this reaction…..”do you think i would stoop as low as that….and when was i ever able to protect you where you were not fully capable yourself….you would never allow me to offer any comfort even when you were hurt…but please…trust me on this and tell me”
[08:30] Belle Stromberg (bellewhitlocke): With her arms folded across her chest she glared at him, He was her oldest brother and she respected him for that but she was also taught to do things on her own. “Then how else would you know off the letters, the only way is if you had spies on me. You might not of been allowed to be close when i was hurt but you were always there off in the distance watching over me, so why do you think i would believe this time to be different. Im fine Portus, my bakery is making it and im living day by day on my own”
[08:33] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): looks at her and takes pause….”I believe the letters were anonymous and as father is absent it falls on me t be aware of what is going on with our family….the fact that they are anonymous is concerning”
[08:35] Belle Stromberg (bellewhitlocke): Oh he was really digging in deep now..”And how do you know this, How does this effect you in any way. So i have recieved a few letters from someone i dont know.. They are scratched words on paper is all for most but for me they have reason. there be no reason to be concerned. I want the spies called off Portus or im moving and you will never see me again. I will …. Just call them off”
[08:38] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “hush and calm now…..maybe what i know of this matter may benefit you”….takes her hand in his…”think carefully and tell me if you suspect who these could be from…no doubt you have many admirers but you always have….surely there is some thought on your part who this could be?”
[08:41] Belle Stromberg (bellewhitlocke): Knew she wasnt getting out of anything with him so took a few deep breaths her hand went to her wrist where one of the ribbons that held the letter of such words were tied around it. It calmed her as a sense of closeness. “I not know who they are from. The man said he saw me at the village of our old lands, Once on the docks. that is all i know. i know nothing else of the person. “
[08:44] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “you have no suspicions….it seems that you made quite an impression for him to take these steps”….sees the ribbon making the connection as to where it came….”i don’t think it comes from a Northern man…he would be far more direct and it seems he has his own vessel and there is only one instance i know of that fit the circumstances”
[08:47] Belle Stromberg (bellewhitlocke): she looks at him a bit confused…”Own vessel, how do you get that from me receiving a few letters, It is more then likely some man who is after something,m i dont know i have nothing to offer anyone.” she then looked to him. “You dont have spies yet you know of the letters, seems you have secrets brother and i suggest you tell me of them and tell me now
[08:48] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “the man i speak of is Silas….the time he brought me Runa…you were there I know and i know you appreciated his charms”
[08:53] Belle Stromberg (bellewhitlocke): She thought for a moment “I not know of this Silas, so this man… this man be a friend of yours.. brings you bonds ..Is this something you had your friend do, keep an eye out on little sis, feel bad for her that she be this old and alone.. Is this your way of…” tears began to roll down her eyes. “tis it not funny how you know who this man be but yet i dont. This man be somehone who Niamh mentions to bring her to visit me or i here. ” she shook her head hurt and just looked offfover the waters
[08:56] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): could hold back no longer …”please do not distress yourself…it is Silas….my business partner….he revealed himself to me and asked if i could see how the land lay and whether you had suspicions but it appears now you do not”
[09:00] Belle Stromberg (bellewhitlocke): She stood up..”Oh im sure it is Silas, im sure you and him whomever it is are having a great laugh at my expense..” she ripped off the ribbon and tossed it into the flames. “this is too far Portus, too far, even for you. I be fine now stop the games, please i beg of you stop!” it was then she looked to Nimah as she came down “It was good to see you again my dear friend. Perhpas keep my brother a bit more busy so him and his friend dont have time to play with others” she was hurt, confused and well now broken. “Ill be on the next serpent off the lands, when will it arrive?”
[09:02] Niamh Strömberg (karlotte.shelman) carried a tray with a bowl of fruit and a tankard of mead and ale. She approached seeing them in conversation. Trying to read the mood. “I am sorry I kept you both waiting. Things were … well when you need Runa to help she never is there.” Something never changed. As she saw Belle stand and cry and clearly distraught she placed the tray down to stand beside her. “No .. wait .. what is this?” she would look between both of them unaware of anything. “Play ? I doubt he has time … and Silas ?” she looks at Portus in question. “What did he do this time ?” surely Niamh had her thoughts on the man.
[09:05] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “this is no joke,,,,i have never seen the man so…please sit and drink and let us discuss this”….looks to his mate….”Silas spoke to me on a matter this morn …he has been sending my sister letters of affection anonymously and asked me to try and see what her feelings were if any?”
[09:08] Niamh Strömberg (karlotte.shelman) tried to digest the words and Belle’s response “Well clearly Belle doesn’t like it. So tell him to stop.” she suggests. “Why does he anonymously ? Trying to win a womans heart for what ? I doubt he needs help in getting a woman ? ” clearly Niamh was overwhelmed.
[09:11] Belle Stromberg (bellewhitlocke): She looked between the two through her tear stained eyes..”You won brother, the letters so perfect, brought light into my dark days, they gave me reason to hope once again. Silly girl you can write me off as.. You and your friend please go play with someone else. I should of known, i should of figured something was admist. Dont you see it as funny that he tells you of his name but not me? you of all people, i have not seen you since the lands fell. Well the laugh is on me i guess”
[09:15] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “i never saw him so….the man was choking his words finding it difficult to express them….it is true that he is ferocious as he captains the stormcrow and leave women in his wake…..YET….the man has a heart and fears rejection…i made sure he was sincere in his intentions….if you do not feel drawn to the man behind his words then say now and i will relieve him of any misery….i may tease you Belle but on this matter I am in deadly earnest
[09:24] Niamh Strömberg (karlotte.shelman) looks back to Portus “You mean … ” she would step beside Belle in support and understanding. “So you mean .. Silas .. the captain of the Stormcrow. Who clearly has no issue in having women drop to their knees is truly interested in Belle ? And he … ” she would look to Belle. “Oh by the … now I understand. That is why he needed all that papyrus ?” she knew Portus serious and would take Belle’s hand if she let her. “I think I start to understand what is going on.” she reasons. “Where is Silas ? Can’t you get him and see that he is here to settle this now?” she asks Portus.
[09:27] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “I had hoped he would be here later to share in our food and drink but he would check first who would be here…he decided to head to victoria although i have never seen him so reluctant to meet a situation like this”
[09:28] Belle Stromberg (bellewhitlocke): reaching up and wiping the tears away from her cheeks, She couldnt even look to her brother, but Niamh when she spoke she raised her orbs to hers..”you mean…” she then looked back to her brother..”This man, this Silas as you call him, is here, upon these lands.. Brother if you love me at all then tell me this is not you, this man those letters, these letters” she reaches in her pouch and pulls them out, the paper clearly being read over and over again, the creases from the folds. She held them not to be read but to be shown..”these letters have given me reason to wake each morning, so iffin the man be here, go and get him. Let him not hide any longer..”
[09:31] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): looks sadly at his sister and holds up his hands…”this is not my work i am merely the messenger ..his agent nothing more…i was merely asked to see your feelings….he is not here and all i hear was him saying he was heading to victoria”
[09:33] Niamh Strömberg (karlotte.shelman) would wrap her arms around Belle’s shoulder trying to process and see what she could do to support her best friend. As she noted the letters she recognized the handwriting and the papyrus. It was her that had done the work for so he could write. “Well for sure he will return here, Portus ? I mean he can’t stay away for ever. Is that bird of yours … capable ?”
[09:36] Belle Stromberg (bellewhitlocke): She reached up and laid her hand on her sisters arm and listened, she was at a loss for words, the man she dreamed off, the man whos taken over her thoughts and world was part of this land. “bird?” she asked then turned to look at Nimah…”What if he doesnt want to see me, what if he just wants the letters, a purpose, a reason.?” she asked her mind running with thoughts and such so fast like.. she felt ligh headed and leaned back against the chair…”I have to lay eyes upon him Brother, please i have not asked you for anything ever, and this i beg of you.. I have to look upon his eyes “
[09:38] Niamh Strömberg (karlotte.shelman) would smile “If a man goes through all that effort. There is more to it than just games. I guess it is his way to truly express himself. When you meet him. You must see and understand why. He is a very handsome and charming man. But perhaps his water runs much deeper than I gave him credit for.” she would look to Portus. “Well I let him explain the bird.”
[09:38] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “yes i believe she is if you wish it”…looks to his sister …”write a note and i will send your namesake with it…i will not add or detract it will be your words only”…..looks seriously now….”i saw a man in love a desperate fear of failure….i felt him sincere and i know it extends past letters”
[09:41] Niamh Strömberg (karlotte.shelman) would look to Belle “You are a good judge of character. Surely a letter can fool, but this many ?” she questions “What do you think? ” she asks.
[09:44] Belle Stromberg (bellewhitlocke): she looked between the two, and could only nod. she sat back down on the chair and pulled out an empty piece she had kept in her pouch for well the voyage over. Scribbling something quickly she rolled it up and handed it to her brother. “Im sorry brother, i just.. i dont know what to think of all this but if you think its worth a shot, then here send this with your bird, ill remain here as i had planed and if he does not return before i set sail then i will know the true man behind the words”
[09:49] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “hush this was a delicate matter and by the sound of things a shock….drink now and refresh yourself while I set my bird on her way”….makes sure the small parchment is secure and takes the bird in both hands and speaks in an ancient language a little apprehensive as this was her first use but he had been rigourous in her training…..throwing her in the air “fly pretty one”
Once again my fingers betray me, moving faster than my thoughts, rushing these words onto the page with nothing but a fragile hope. I do not know if this ink will echo the warmth of the last ones, or if it will drift to you like a lost whisper in the wind.
Your letters—oh, Belle—your letters were balm to a bruised soul. They touched something raw in me. A heart not used to gentleness, suddenly undone by tenderness. It frightens me, how easily I fracture where you are concerned. And when your letter came to me by the bird—your name upon its wings—I could not ignore the cruel poetry of it.
Belle. I held the scroll as if it burned, fearing what would be within. That perhaps the story we’ve dared write across distance might have found its final period. I was not brave, Belle. Not then, not yet. I left. Like a coward flees the storm, not knowing he’s abandoning the shelter.
You know better than most: life teaches you to bend or break. And I bent—sometimes into shapes I despise. I’ve done things I wouldn’t want carved into stone. Things that echo in my quieter hours, when the moon is absent and the waves grow too loud.
But tomorrow—I ask for your presence. At the dock, as dawn breaks. No disguise, no pretense. Let me be the man who doesn’t run. Let me be the one who stays. Let me hold you and tell you that everything—everything—can begin anew.
Portus gave me his blessing. I now kneel before fate, hoping for yours.
If I could, I’d trade places with the bird who carries this message. I’d fly through the dark with nothing but your name on my wings. Until the light returns,
Yours in trembling hope.
Arriving back home on the docks, walking around in a fog, a daze. As if she had been hit hard in the head, everything spinning and her heart beating uncontrollably put if her chest. She waited at her brother’s lands for the bird to return, which it did but returned empty. Not a note saying ‘wait, im on my way’ nothing. Cold silence the depths of a winters day in the most horrendous freeze cold. Stinging as the icicles pierced through her very heart and soul. Needless to say she wasnt expecting anything from him upon her return home. So when the boy ran up to her and handed her the scroll her heart which was barley beating all but stopped as she opened it and read it. The boy waiting for a return. Pulling out a page from her pouch she wrote only 3 words “ill be there” rolled it up tied it with the ribbon and sent the biy on his way.
She didn’t know how to feel she didn’t know how to react. Before she left her brother’s she found his room and roamed about it. Her fingers glided over the desk she pictured him writing at. They picked up the pillow he laid his head upon and inhaled his scent before placing it back down. She also took off the bracelet that her mother gave her when she was younger, entwining a lilac ribbon through it and laid it back on the desk leaving a note using the paper he used “i not know where we go from here but your carried in my heart always, Belle” leaving and closing the door behind her. She made for her house and would wait for the time to meet him, on the docks at day break. Unable to sleep she paced back and forth, a blue ribbon tied again around her wrist replacing the one she tossed in the fire earlier and the gem he gave her pressed tightly in the plam of her hand. Time was there for her to go to the docks and that is just what she set out to do….
There are moments when fate aligns so precisely, so cruelly, it feels orchestrated. This was one of them. The two men must have sensed it—that shiver in the air, the stage set perfectly in the dusky veil of dawn.
The dock lay quiet, deserted. And there, alone, stood the woman. They moved like shadows stitched into conversation, feigning oblivion. They had mastered this. Predators cloaked in casual banter, their intent hidden. Only those who’d seen it before would have recognized the performance for what it was.
When they drew near, the illusion shattered. In a breath, one seized her from behind—an iron grip clamping over her mouth. The other’s hands were swift, intrusive, scouring her for valuables tucked away. Their touch was rough and aggressive, their presence suffocating.
Belle hadn’t seen it coming. Her mind was elsewhere—on Silas, on whatever promise awaited her. Not this. Never this. She struggled, not just to break free, but to protect something clutched tightly in her fist. Her resistance wasn’t just desperation—it was defiance. Whatever she held, she guarded it like a sacred ember. More than precious. Maybe even more than her own life.
The men were relentless. When brute force failed, cruelty stepped in. A blade flashed. Cold steel kissed her wrist—not to kill, but to loosen her grip. Pain as persuasion.
They didn’t flinch. Men like them never did. Morality wasn’t part of their vocabulary. They lived for moments like this. Opportunists. Jackals in the dawnlight. They had seen the gem once before, a fleeting glance as she studied it under sunlight, unaware of what she possessed. But they knew. And they would stop at nothing to claim it—not even murder.
Belle was fighting for the prize she was entrusted with, not for value but for something far more important to her. It was given to her from him. One little gem, it could of been a trick and she would of protected it. While she struggled a flash of him, their meeting…she did remember it..in the bakery, that smile had taken her the moment he flashed it. It was him..she began to struggle harder, fighting for her worth, her family and for them. They were too strong. Prayers for her family were now said. For silas….
Silas felt the odds stack against him with every breath. The tide turned traitor, the wind a dead whisper against the Stormcrow’s sails. The vessel crawled rather than cut—a ship bound by fate’s cruel hand.
It was as though the gods themselves conspired to slow him, to ensure he arrived too late. He would’ve thrown himself into the sea if it meant reaching her faster, but even that wouldn’t bridge the distance in time.
When the dock finally rose into view, it was not Belle he saw first. It was the sound that reached him—a scuffle, sharp breaths, a stifled cry. Then the world narrowed. From the corner of his eye, he saw her—Belle—trapped between two men, their intentions carved plainly into their movements. Blood bloomed dark and damning on her wrist, seeping through fabric like a scream.
“Let her go!” His voice cracked across the morning with the force of thunder, the voice of a man who’d led men into battle and returned. But he was too far—too far to make that instant difference.
He jumped and sprinted. “Belle!” he called again, this time a raw edge of fear fraying the command in his tone.
The attackers stopped. Just a beat. A glance. They knew the name, and worse, the man behind it. “Silas,” one spat, panic scraping his throat. But fear didn’t stop them. It hardened them.
The blade flashed—merciless and fast—as the other pried at Belle’s fingers, desperate for the gem she refused to surrender. When her grip held, the choice was made.
One brutal slash. A life, stolen without pause. So quick. So numbingly final.
The type of death that leaves behind silence louder than screams. “I have it!” the second cried, victorious and vile. The gem was his. The woman was gone. “Run!” And they did—cowards with blood on their hands and fire at their heels—leaving Belle to collapse like a broken psalm upon the dock.
A sound tore from Silas’s throat—no word, no command. Just grief unleashed. “NOOOOO!!!”
The choice was there, twisted cruelly in the split-second that followed: chase the thieves and reclaim what they stole, or fall to her side and bear witness to what might be her last breath. There was no deliberation. His boots struck the dock like war drums as he sprinted to her.
He dropped to his knees beside her fallen body, sliding across the blood-slick planks. His hands—those hands that had torn sails and suffocated men—now trembled as they pressed against her throat, trying to seal the wound. Blood poured between his fingers, hot and unforgiving. It was already too late. But his heart refused what his eyes screamed.
He drew her into his arms, cradling her like something sacred. Belle. Soft. Motionless. His tears—never seen by friend or enemy alike—spilled down his cheeks, carving silent trenches into his weather-worn face.
People gathered.
Whispers floated across the dock like ash. “The baker woman…”“It’s that pirate. Surely he’s to blame.”“What do you expect from his kind?”
Silas heard it all—his name, her name, woven into accusation. And somewhere inside, a sickening part of him agreed. Hadn’t he told Portus he was the kind of man mothers warned their daughters about?
But that didn’t stop him.
He lifted her—not like a burden, but like a vow—and carried her back to the Stormcrow. No one dared stop him. The crew watched in stunned silence as he placed her on the bed in the captain’s quarters, the one place he had never let softness live.
Something inside him broke open that day.
Not with reckless fury. No—his grief took a different shape.
Cold. Unrelenting. Purposeful.
Silas Drake, once bound by gold and sea spray, had changed. And now, there was only the storm.
[06:24] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) called out “Greetings !!!”
[06:25] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “welcome home Silas i trust the sailing was pleasant”?
[06:26] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) tapped the small bag at his side. “Twenty golden double weighted Tarns.” he replied. His eyes would search for Malik as he would try to see if he had recognized the man on the plow.
[06:27] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): take a good look Malik
[06:27] Lυlυ Lÿţє Õђηαкα (lululyteohnaka): ‘Walking a little over as she was covered in fur and blood from the verr and killings. Looking up she yelps in shock that her owner would see her in such a state and would only yelp in such shock’ my Jarl welcome home ‘she was off course excited and then keeps silent thinking that a wash might be good’
[06:30] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) would jump down in one fluent motion to pick up his girl and swirl her around. It mattered to him little that she was covered in blood. Surely he knew of such. Even now he knew that after taking the dead man of his plow he would be covered in worse. He was one of the crew and would not only have them do the dirty work.
[06:31] Obi Ouma Abhumali (abhumali) Stands and he trembles, much hope to his eyes. He bites his lip, so nervous is he
[06:32] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) would grip Malik by the shoulder and push him forward “I know your uncle had better days.” he added to ensure the man knew who he was facing. “I fear he didn’t make it during the trip home.” he sort of explained.
[06:34] Obi Ouma Abhumali (abhumali) He squeaks on grabbing and push forward. Shocked, he is, to see.. someone that he recognises. He is terrified to see. ” Oh my.. HEAVENS. What… what.. ” – he loses his words and can now but dribble, his mind absolutely destroyed at the horrible scene
[06:35] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “it seems Malik that the situation has been resolved one way or another…i confess i see no features left that could identify.”..points…’that…perhaps you will enlighten us Silas”
[06:35] Lυlυ Lÿţє Õђηαкα (lululyteohnaka): ‘The flow of her blond hair as he spins her around as the laugh escapes those lips. The feeling of pure bliss before finding her feet touching back down onto the dock as all she could do was take a little step back and just watch as one drip of a time the blood finds it way into the water and would make sure to put the sharp knife aside’
[06:37] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) smiles as his eyes glint with this devious intent. Surely not laying all cards upon the table. “Oh I had quite an adventure. Very fruitful.” he replied to Portus. “I am sure Malik is pleased to know that his Uncle did not get away with what he had done.”
[06:38] Obi Ouma Abhumali (abhumali) Completely astonished, his mind in pieces, he can but babble and stumble his words.. ” What… who.. when.. Uncle.. what.. did.. ” and his eyes are wide, as saucers, not understanding
[06:44] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) would keep a firm hand upon the mans shoulder “Your father knew or perhaps I should say guessed that your Uncle was after his fortune.” he stated. “He asked me to bring him in this manner as to ensure you to see what is done to those that double cross your father.” he explained. “I have to say your father is far from the man I expected. ” was their praise in his voice ?
[06:49] Obi Ouma Abhumali (abhumali) His thoughts completely burned down, he does not even notice the firm grip onto his shoulder. He stands, mouth open in shock, dribbling, while tears run down his face and into the thicker beard. He blinks, terrified, then he tries to run, getting nowhere of course as he is held tight. He panics totally and tries to fight the grip, which holds him with great strength
[06:50] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “easy now”….draws his whip to focus Maliks mind…..”lets hear Silas’ account and where you l
[06:50] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): stand with regard to your father
[06:51] Lυlυ Lÿţє Õђηαкα (lululyteohnaka): ‘Looking to the boy at it would seem he needs to get use to the life he has been given, its not all that bad. Upon seeing what he does moving out of the way and standing behind the stairs just looking hoping the boy wont do anything silly like he had done before’
[06:53] Obi Ouma Abhumali (abhumali) He tries to fight his massive panic. Seeing the whip, which he knows well by now, he stands, almost collapsing. Blood is loud in his ears and he is so terrified that almost does he pass out
[06:54] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) held the man firmly in his grip. The slave was strong but did not outmatch Silas as the man was clearly taken by emotion. He would wink to his girl as she would move out of the way betraying her intelligence. “You try to run before you even know what is to become of you ? Do you know your father that well ?” he asks – not yet giving anything away in the tone of his voice. “We got 20 double weighted tarns … tell me … do you think it is only for the murder upon your uncle ? Would such not be way too much … Surely you must have hope … as you spoke of your value.”
[07:03] Obi Ouma Abhumali (abhumali) Weeping and with his thoughts so totally shredded, knowing that he cannot escape from the very tight and strong grip, he tries to focus and he swallows, grunting and blinking. ” Uncle…Oboté ? Ki..killed by F…Father ? Not un…derstand. Truly no ! “
[07:05] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “hardly the gratitude Silas deserves for acting in your matters…perhaps we should move to the hall and have silas relate the whole over a well earned drink”
[07:06] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) laughs “Yes, well he surprised me too.” he replied to Malik “I guess your father should not be underestimated.” he replied dryly. “Your father was aware and had me kill your Uncle and bring him as this gift to you. So you can see that your Uncle who betrayed you is punished by his deceit.” he empathizes. When Portus spoke of a well earned drink he laughs “Yes … I thought we wouldn’t get there today.” he laughs “Prepare a good tankard, mine.” he called out to his girl.
[07:09] Obi Ouma Abhumali (abhumali) Shakes violently. as he is pulled away from the scene. ” Uncle..b..b..betrayed.. me ? In h..how this he d..did ? “
[07:11] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) walked into the kitchen and seated himself his eyes would lock with those of Portus. perhaps already conveying what came next. “Sit.” he insisted to Malik while his crew would stand by. While they waited for a good ol drink as well.
[07:13] Obi Ouma Abhumali (abhumali) Totally as robot, he sits heavily to the bench, hardly able to think. He grips the table, shocked completely and not to understand. He continues with shaking, totally terrified
[07:15] Lυlυ Lÿţє Õђηαкα (lululyteohnaka): ‘Looking down upon her self and even a wash of the hands would make the tankard look very red, she would need a whole wash down’ yes my jarl, ‘as she found her way to the kitchen and would start by placing the tools to the side, would then wash her hands then a little of the arm. Once done moving around though the red drips with lines, finding quite a few tankards, one by one she would wash them down and then making sure to dry them with no drip or drop left in sight. The barrel and tap flowing each tankard filling just the baring inches just away from the top. she would only grab a tray with that placing as many that would fit. Moving to her owners side first and with that voice soft and sweet’ my Jarl the tankard you had requested the ale ready for you to enjoy, ‘holding the tray before her it was the best way the others would get a drink as well’
[07:16] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): sits but does not relax…tensed ready to act in an instant with his hand on his whip…..”I will take a tankard of ale Bahirah”
[07:17] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) would wait for his drink as he continues “Your father even knew before you were sent away. ” he starts. “Your uncle indeed had a hand in your predicament. He paid the captain to sort of lose you underway.” he would turn to his girl and take the tankard. His fingers brush hers as a silent gesture that she had done well and would see to Portus needs. “Your father confronted your Uncle when I was there. First I thought the guards were there to stop me.”
[07:19] Obi Ouma Abhumali (abhumali) Listens, not believing but with no ability now even to stand, so astonished is he, that he continues to grip the table, attempting to calm his destructed nevers and not to shake as much.. ” P…paid..t…to …lose m..me ? “
[07:20] Lυlυ Lÿţє Õђηαкα (lululyteohnaka): ‘The touch with her own smile brushes, would move herself around and standing next to the jarl, she knew then to be silent as they started to talk and would offer tray up with the tankard of ale’
[07:22] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) nodded “Yes. Never really learned how much was paid but I doubt it was 20 golden double weighted tarns.” he answers “Your father even is to be companioned in the upcoming days. He might even have already.” he added as he would take a first good gulp of his tankard. “Seems his health was just a ruse for your uncle.”
[07:22] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): takes the tankard gratefully as it had been a busy day and nodded his thanks to the pretty girl indicating she was free to return to her master and sipped while waiting on the rest of the tale
[07:25] Obi Ouma Abhumali (abhumali) Not thinking properly, he wobbles onto his feet, holding still to the table. ” Must.. s..see F..Father. Go H….Home now, m…me “
[07:29] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) would slam his tankard on the table and jumped up to stop him. “No! You will not.” he replied cold “In fact those 20 golden double tarns are to ensure you are never to say you are his son. ” There it was – the brutal truth. “Your father allowed the plot of your uncle to test your resolve and strength. You failed him. And with it he wished you no longer as a son.” he would push the man before him. “Now I could simply slit your throat. Surely you must know by now that such is just my daily business.” he warned.
[07:31] Lυlυ Lÿţє Õђηαкα (lululyteohnaka): ‘Would then move to the crew with the tray enough tankards for each, as she would watch them swarm over pushing and shoving as they took the drinks. Moving to the side she was not going to walk back into the kitchen now. She would find herself a nice little spot on the floor to sit, holding the tray into her lap’
[07:33] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): had also jumped to his feet in anticipation…..he and Silas had a talent for unspoken communication and had sensed the direction it was heading….”so Malik…no more talk of your return to your father your fate lies in our good graces alone do not make this harder on yourself than you need to be”
[07:35] Obi Ouma Abhumali (abhumali) Squeaks on being pushed. He sees Silas and Portus stand and with their menaces, he freezes, shaking more at new things he learns. ” Father… h.. he… denies me ? I am h.. his heir ! I am Obi ! Son Of Usanté The Merchant ! I m…must g.. get h…home ! Please ! “
[07:37] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) would attempt to strike without warning. “You are nothing but a slave. And y ou call us by our earned title. That of Master. You are not to go home. Your father companions your intended to have an heir that is worthy of the family name. You were the weakest link. And so he says Goodbye.”
[07:41] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): listens as Silas develops the last crushing blow…”let this be an end of the matter….we profited in acting for your benefit and now your situation lays itself out for you…slave you are and will remain. All hopes you had are gone like the wind…focusing your mind on doing my bidding is the only life ahead of you now”
[07:43] Obi Ouma Abhumali (abhumali) His thoughts and eyes with terror and as wild as his hair, he backs away and loses his mind, panicking and he does not think but to run and of course, he takes the very wrong direction and rushes to the kitchen, almost to bounce off the wall
[07:44] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) is quickly enough to take his weapon
[07:46] Silas Drake (melchior.wardell) would corner the man as he drew his whip. The leather he would coil around the mans neck. “Seems you need a firm lesson.” he would pull the leather as to choke him. “I think this one needs the whip.” he suggested towards Portus.
[07:47] Lυlυ Lÿţє Õђηαкα (lululyteohnaka): ‘Just peek up a little she really did find herself a nice little spot leaning back down, she would stand up onto her feet this time to only watch as the whips where truly getting her attention for sure’
[07:48] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “i agree if only to focus his mind…have at him Silas and then lock him in the cage in my office so he can properly reflect on his situation”
Silas left the Isle with a sense of urgency, determined to uncover the truth about Malik – Obi Ouma Abhumali. The journey was fraught with peril, as Silas and his crew navigated treacherous waters and faced fierce storms. Finally, they arrived at the mysterious land of Ianda, where they were swiftly directed to the imposing house of Malik’s father.
The man who greeted Silas was old, with a stern and unyielding demeanor. Silas knew he had to tread carefully. “Greetings, Sir,” he said, his keen eyes taking in every detail of the man’s quarters. “You have an extraordinary home,” he complimented, trying to ease the tension. “I imagine a man of your stature has a long line of successors?” he inquired, moving through the room with a confidence that belied his caution.
The father eyed Silas suspiciously. “I have one son, but he has vanished. My brother Obeté has been a great help as my health declines,” he revealed.
Silas nodded thoughtfully. “My question is not without purpose,” he said, producing a small piece of paper and unfurling it before the man’s eyes. “I have a strand of hair from your son, if the man who gave it to me spoke truthfully. Do you have any idea what might have happened?”
The father examined the strand of hair, hoping it wasn’t his son’s. “He was given a task by my brother and never returned. The captain of the ship claimed he fell overboard, but I don’t believe it. I think my son was too weak to stand among those firm men. Perhaps there was a mutiny or a fight he couldn’t win,” he admitted.
Silas listened intently, gauging the man’s words. He wondered if the father wanted the truth or preferred a comforting lie. Before he could respond, another man entered the room.
The father’s demeanor softened as he greeted the newcomer. “Ah, Oboté, you’re just in time. This captain believes he may have found my son,” he said, pointing to the paper with the strand of hair. “I just told him we doubt the captain’s story.”
Oboté glanced at Silas with cunning eyes, assessing whether Silas posed a threat to his inheritance. “A pleasure to meet you, erm?” he stalled, seeking Silas’s name.
Silas bowed slightly. “I am Silas, captain of the Stormcrow,” he replied, omitting the Black Compass for now. “Which captain and ship are you referring to? We might be able to compare notes,” he suggested, his gaze challenging Oboté.
Oboté realized he had met his match in Silas, who seemed to know more than he had revealed. The father waved dismissively. “I don’t know much about what happened. My son was supposed to accompany a high-caste woman named Aleisha, and I need to speak to her father. They don’t want to wait any longer. But if you bring us news that he is alive?”
Oboté saw an opportunity and interjected. “Perhaps it’s wise for you to speak to the father while I compare notes with Silas,” he suggested.
Silas sensed a hidden motive behind Oboté’s suggestion but waited. He was surprised that neither man had asked about Malik’s condition. Silas felt a pang of pity, wondering if they truly cared or if they simply hoped for good news from him.
Suddenly, the door burst open, and a group of armed men stormed into the room. Silas instinctively reached for his weapon, but the father raised a hand to stop him. “These are my guards,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “They will ensure that no harm comes to anyone.”
Oboté’s eyes narrowed as he stepped forward. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his voice laced with anger. “Why are you here, Silas? What do you really want?”
Silas met Oboté’s gaze with steely determination. “I want to establish if the man in my possession is a hoax or your true heir.” as his eyes moved to the father of Malik. “Or your nephew.” As his eyes again cut to Obeté.
The tension in the room was palpable as the two men faced off. The father’s eyes darted between them, unsure of what to do. Finally, he spoke. “Oboté, if you know something, you must tell me. Why do I have the feeling you are more aware of this than you letting on?”
Oboté hesitated, then sighed. “Very well,” he said. “I will tell you what I know. But be warned, the truth may be more dangerous than you realize.”
Silas had not anticipated the guards or the sudden change in Oboté. In fact he now worried that he would lose that advantage of playing these two out for the highest reward.
The father frowns and his hand reached to his heart as if he already felt the truth would challenge each beat of it. “Well speak !” he demanded.
Oboté nodded “The captain tried to blackmail us.” He stated while his gaze challenged Silas. “This man is sent to collect what was agreed. But only to have him comprehended and tortured so we learn where your son is held.”
The guards were moving towards Silas as to apprehend him, but Silas had instantly guessed what was to come when he spoke of blackmail. His hand on his sword, while his other gripped the whip.
“Wait!” the father shouted “This does not make sense.” He added as he would move to lock his gaze with that of Oboté. “If this were true. You would have come forward with this information hands ago. Why now ?” his eyes narrowed now. The guards would now turn towards Oboté.
Silas relieved that the guards did not proceed when it came to him. Surely he was skilled but to master two guards and two men in one room was even for him a little much. He was quick and swift but no MacGyver.
The father turned back to Silas. “You see. I made my fortune not by being ignorant. I know my brother wants my fortune. So when he came up with this scheme to sent my son, I knew he would try to establish his position.”
Silas was surprised and amused. The father suddenly earned that rare gift of respect from him. As he kept observing. Not yet given any insights in the cards he was holding. Surely the play of poker had become on the head table.
Oboté tried to escape the grip of the guards but they held him firm. “You make a mistake. I have always been there for you. I am the only one that remained loyal.” He pleaded.
The father did not have it and continued “You see, Silas. I thought it might bring me knowledge that I needed when I played ignorance at the plan to sent my son. You see my son troubles me. He is more like his mother than he has any resemblance to me. I at times had this wonder if his mother might not had an affair. But his appearance shows clearly otherwise. Nor do I think his mother capable of such deceit. “
The father continued. “Did you bring my son with you ?” he now asked.
Silas shook his head.
The father nodded “Than he failed me.” He replied resentful. “Is he dead?” he asked further.
Silas shook his head again.
The father frowns “If you think I will pay you for him to return ?” he questions.
Silas would shake his head again. “Based on your words I doubt you would pay me one copper as he failed you. Yet he is your heir. The one that holds him must know of this. Perhaps that is valuable to you?” he suggests.
The father laughed. “You are keen, Silas.” His eyes would lock to those of Silas ignoring the pleads of Oboté for now “I want to make you an offer.” He started. “I want you to take Oboté with you. I want you to have him on your ship as the figurehead. I will compensate you for it. Just as I will compensate you for ensuring my son will not claim my fortune when I am gone. “
Oboté screamed and struggled in the hands of the guards as they took him on the signal of the father.
Silas would remain silent as to wait how the father would proceed.
“I will pay you 20 golden double tarns to ensure that man is no longer alive than before you return home. I want my son to see his uncle. So he knows that I am aware of him and choose not to pay for his release. Perhaps that will make him a stronger man.” The voice of the man had become bitter and dark.
Silas had not expected such coin and was pleasant surprised by it. This was easy – perhaps too easy ? “What about your son ?” he asks.
The father sighed. “Is he a deckhand upon your ship?” he asks now.
Silas shook his head “No. Your son was collared and branded as his life was in debt of that of my quartermaster.” He replied placing all the cards open upon the table.
The father nodded with defeat “I figured as much.” He replied. “If this is the case. He is no longer my son nor my affair. You can do as you please.” He would turn to Silas “I will companion Aleisha myself. She will give me an heir and I will establish a firm house.”
Silas arched a brow at the mentioning of the fiancé of Malik “Is the companionship all arranged ?” he asks now curious.
The father nodded “Yes. Her father and I came to terms not long after we understood something must have happened to my son. Her father was pleased that our houses will merge regardless if my son was to return or not.” He paused “But Silas … as I am sure you are a man with balls of steel and courage as big as Ar. Those twenty golden double tarns are also a gesture of my good will. I would very much like to establish a good trade with the more Northern parts of our planet. Can you see to such ?”
Silas grinned and laughed. “I could have known that such large sum would come with a cost. But if that is the cost than still you are very gracious. I own a trading company. If there is anything I can do it will be that.”
———–
Silas understood that the man wanted his brother to serve as a grim example of the consequences of betrayal. As the evening deepened, Silas took Oboté and had his men bind him to the prow of the Stormcrow. The man cursed, shouted, and pleaded, making promises of fortune he no longer possessed.
As they moved from the harbor into open water, the man felt the icy grip of the sea and the crushing waves battering his body. The relentless force soon rendered him unconscious, unable to withstand the rock-solid waters. Sharks and other sea creatures might have taken a bite, but the man’s cries ceased quickly.
In the days that followed, some of the crew checked on Oboté and confirmed that his life had been forfeited. They shared their findings with Silas, who nodded knowingly. “It was to be expected,” he replied. “A sign for those who think they can double-cross an old man. This shows that none of us should ever be underestimated.” He laughed, a sinister sound that echoed through the ship. “But we men already know this.” He grinned. “Now prepare, for we are to find the dock of our isle soon. Do not take the man away just yet. The thrall Malik needs to see it first.”
Crows Murder 