Danticus felt queasy. He never was one for sailing. The kingdom was farther away than he had thought it to be, and the captain had insisted on sailing at half mast. Most of the expedition members had gone below deck, quick to rest after such an early morning. The boat rode upon a large wave, and came down nose first, causing Danticus to dry heave. His stomach felt like the ocean, uneasy and upset.

"You look like something chewed you and shat you out," said Cristomir, walking up to him.

Danticus' throat constricted and his cheeks puffed. "I have no love for the ocean..."

"You don't have to tell me," said Cristomir, patting his back with teasing sympathy, "you know, for coming from a family of fishermen, you'd think salt water would run through your veins."

Danticus shook his head. "Blood runs through my veins...the Gods didn't fashion us to sail."

Cristomir smiled. "If that were so, we wouldn't sail, would we? Yet here we are." He peered over the rail towards the bow of the ship. A large wave was coming, and would rock the ship roughly. "And in a few moments, your supper will be all over the deck as well."

"The Gods fashioned you to bother me, didn't they." Danticus braced as the ship shook from the wave, and struggled to keep the contents of his stomach down. After a few moments, the feeling resided, and the young ranger looked around the deck. "Where is everyone?"

"Below deck. Few of em are trying to get more sleep."

Danticus felt the heavy feeling creep back up his throat. "Well, I think I'm going to join them. I'll speak with you later."

Cristomir nodded and smiled at him as his cheeks puffed with sickness.

Danticus left the railing he was leaning on and went down to the sailor's quarters. He searched for some of his team members, in hopes to get to know them better. Most were asleep, tired from waking up so early, except for Gregor and Markus, the two miners for the trip. They were talking quietly amongst themselves.

"Good afternoon, men." Said Danticus

"'Ello there, ranger." Said the older one.

"And you two are?" Danticus asked

The younger one spoke. "I'm Markus, and the old guy's Gregor. What do ya want?"

Danticus shrugged. "Suppose I was just looking for pleasant conversation. Figured I'd get to know you all a bit better. That alright?"

Gregor sniffed. "I suppose so."

"Right then. I'm Danticus Stormwell, pleasure. So...what's your story?" Danticus asked

Gregor spoke. "My story?"

"Aye. Every man has one," said Danticus

"And why do you want to know it?" he asked, his hard salty eyes staring Danticus down.

"Sorry, was I not clear before?" Danticus retorted sarcastically.

The miner looked at his friend. Markus shrugged and nodded towards Danticus, gesturing for him to tell him his life tale. Gregor rubbed his shaved head "Well...I was an infantryman for the king's royal army until I got stabbed in my knee. I was honorably discharged and lost all my money paying for all sorts of medicines and tonics. Damn greedy doctors took everything I had. I had to move from the barracks and into the slums. I needed some money, so I decided to work in the mines. I've been workin' in there ever since."

Danticus frowned empathetically. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Gregor shrugged. "I hate it. But it's honest money. Keeps me strong."

"And what about you?" Danticus asked to Markus, the younger, brown haired one.

"I was, uh...I was a street urchin, or so they're called, when I was a young boy. I always begged for money and food since my parents never had none. Grew up in the slums my whole life. Then this one day, when I was seventeen, I go to the noble quarter, figuring I could get more food and gold there, when I smell this delicious scent comin' from inside this guys house."

"What was is it?" Asked Danticus

"This fresh baked bread, right out of the oven. Anyway, I go in and grab myself a slice and some gold I saw lyin' on the table. His wife comes in and screams and starts hitting me with this broom she had. Her husband comes in with a sword and threatens to kill me unless I leave. I punched him in the face and jumped out the window with his entire loaf of bread, and he caught me before I could get too far."

"What happened then?"

"The city guard threw me in the dungeon. Turns out, it was this guy I stole from was a lord from the Perrelister family, back when Lord Perrelister was actually somebody. They tried to execute me for assault and trespassing, but I opted to work in the mines. Turns out, I was good at it and four years later and here I am. Developed a nasty Jade addicition, been trying to kick it for almost a year now, especially after Lord Perrelister got caught producing and smuggling it. I'll get there one day."

Danticus couldn't help but feel sorry for these men. Their lives were strings of misfortune, and made Danticus wonder why the Gods chose to bless him with good luck and not them.

Maybe not all men are created equal, he thought.

"Well then, I'll leave you two to the rest of your afternoons."

Markus and Gregor shrugged, and resumed their conversation. Danticus was stopped as he made his way down the ship hall by a man with platinum blonde hair.

"We haven't spoken a quite some time, Danticus." It was Siegfried Whitelocke. He looked as he always did. Smug and and not quite satisfied.

"Siegfried...what do you want?" Said Danticus, wary of the rangers intentions.

"Just wanted to say hello. Haven't seen you since before your trip to the south."

"That all?" Asked Danticus rudely.

Siegfried crossed his arms. "Nice weather we're having, don't you think? Though I suppose you could remind me what I've done to you to make you so...unpleasant."

"You're...you," said Danticus, gesturing to him with his hands unfavorably.

Seigfreid chuckled. "You're a bright one aren't you? The bards and scholars could take a page out of your book." He leaned upon the ship walls, his arm still crossed and that annoying self assured smile still on his face. "So please tell me," he stood up straight and inched closer to Danticus, more than he'd appreciate, "what I'm doing wrong by being me?"

The latch leading to the deck swung open, sunlight cascading over the dark wood. Darius stood above, looking down at the two, the air thick with tension. He raised his eyebrow and stepped down.

Danticus looked back to Siegfried, a glare upon his face. "If you'll excuse me, Sir Whitelocke, I would like to get some rest."

Siegfried scoffed. "As would I, Sir Stormwell. Maybe my dreams will be more interesting than this discussion we had."

Danticus glared at him as he left, and left Darius to clear his throat.

"I suppose you don't like him, do you?"

Danticus sighed, and rubbed his eyes. "The man's an ass who thinks he shits gold and pisses wine."

Darius laughed, and quietly clapped his hands. "That's clever, I like that. Pisses wine..." he cracked up a few more times.

Danticus smiled softly, and Siegfried vanished from his mind with Darius' laughter. "I haven't seen you since before my ride to the south. I was gone for nearly a whole moon, how were things in my absence?"

Darius shrugged. "Things were fine. Most of my days were spent at the docks, controlling the crowds, playing cards with Sir Vallyrian and others...nothing as exciting as riding off to the south and escorting back a damn fine dame! Are you sure she's a scholar?"

Danticus blushed, more so for Jazmyn than himself. "Jazmyn? Yes, I'm sure. You fancy her then?"

Darius smiled, and leaned against the wooden walls of the ship. "I fancy me a woman like her...a Valdorian woman. The best lovers come from the south, as do the best scholars. I admire a smart woman...they always keep you guessing."

Danticus nodded. "I believe that's women in general."

Darius smiled, and slapped his shoulder. "Truer words have never been said. They're magnificent creatures, aren't they?"

Danticus nodded. "That they are."

"How bout you, Danticus? Have you a women in your life?"

Danticus smiled as thoughts of Adelyn filled his head. Her hair, her scent, her eyes made of chocolate...

"I do, actually. The lovely Lady Granmund."

Darius humorously frowned. "Lord Byron's wife? Are you telling me you're plowing the wife of the Lord of the Emerald Groves?"

Danticus shook his head, chuckling. "No, heavens no, I'm not plowing anybody, least of all her. I've been courting her daughter, Adelyn."

Darius nodded, his eyebrows raised. "Hmmm, even better. She's a beautiful one, Lady Adelyn. I remember the first time I laid eyes upon her. She was in the market square with her betrothed from a time ago, Sir Sinclair, looking-"

"Forgive me, what?" Danticus furrowed his brow. He didn't know Adelyn had a lover prior to him, much less a man promised to be her husband. Why had she not told him?

Darius cleared his throat. "I take it you two never discussed Sir Sinclair then?"

Danticus shook his head. "In truth, I had only seen her a handful of times, the topic never among our conversations. Who was this Sir Sinclair?"

Darius shifted his bodyweight somewhat uncomfortably. "He was the son of a lord, and a knight as well. He died a year back over a game of cards that took a turn for the worst. You didn't hear of that?"

Danticus shook his head. "I've never been one for the talks of the town."

Darius shrugged. "Suppose not all news gets around then," he yawned, and stretched his arms and neck, "anyway, Danticus, it's been a pleasure speaking with you, but my eyes are heavy. Try to keep a clear mind, yeah? I'll see you around."

Danticus nodded. "Of course. Thank you, Darius."

*****

The morning turned to the evening, and the ship did only but inch closer and closer. They were close to the kingdom now, and the sailors were running about, taking care of the ship. Danticus woke from his nap, and had a small lunch with his cousin. His mind hadn't wandered far, and Sir Sinclair didn't plague him much. After losing a game of cards to Darius and some of the Squadroners, which luckily didn't leave him dead like Sir Sinclair, he went to speak with the ship captain, Captain Hardeth. They were far closer to the castle now, it's dingy marble and stone covered in dried seaweed. It baked in the sun, just as Danticus did, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"Captain, when do we dock?" Danticus asked.

"Soon here. If we can find them."

Hardeth's first mate, a knight-lieutenant by the name of Erick, ran to him, eager with news. "Captain, the docks are gone. Must've rotted off."

"Ah, of course there aren't any. Sir Edwin!" He yelled. Edwin emerged from the ship chambers. He was wearing a simple grey tunic, black pants and a white sash.

"Aye, Captain Hardeth!" He yelled

"The bloody docks are gone. You and your crew will have to take a rowboat there. We'll anchor close to the land, so when you're ready to come back aboard, light a fire and we'll set out to meet you," said knight-captain Hardeth.

"Alright, thank you Captain." He went to the center of the ship. "Squadroners, rangers, scholars, miners assemble!" He rung a bell that led to bottom of the quarters to alert the crew they were needed. Most came running from below deck

Once they were all present, Edwin spoke of their inconvenience.

"Unfortunately, we cannot dock the Pride of Rorden as there happens to be no dock. We intend for the expedition team to take the rowboats to the kingdom and start the trip there. The Pride shall anchor here, and wait for when we're ready to leave. These are the only rowboats, so make sure you treat them with care. Understood?"

Edwin was met with some sleepy and unenthusiastic understoods. He scowled and left to speak with Hardeth.

"Well, that's just fantastic. By the Gods, why are we even wasting our time," said Seigfreid

A few explorers scoffed, paying him little mind.

"I could've spent the night last night with a beautiful dame, her body snuggled against mine, her breasts on my chest, her lips on my neck," he paused, imagining the sight, "but instead, I'm on this scorned ship with-"

"Would you shut it, Whitelocke," Said Miles Vallyrian, the lieutenant of the King's Field Squadron.

Seigfreid scowled at the man. "Excuse me? You'll watch your tongue when speaking to me."

"I'll say what I wish," Miles said, shooting up from his sitting place. "You don't deserve to be here, and you don't deserve that mantle."

Siegfried met him, not intimidated, and puffed out his chest. "And I suppose you know all there is to being a ranger don't you?"

"I know enough to-"

"Shut it, both of you!" Said Gallador, breaking up the soon to be fight.

"Gallador, don't let this-"

"In the name of Jorik, shut your bloody mouth!" Gallador barked.

Siegfried nostrils flared out of anger. He popped his neck joints and kept his expression of discontent. Miles walked in the other direction. Gallador did nothing but sigh. Edwin approached him.

"Gallador, Hardeth is ready to drop anchor. Get your men set to row to the castle," said Edwin

"Aye, Edwin." He turned to the rangers. "Let's go men."

Before they could, they heard shouting from below deck. Gallador raised his eyebrows at the commotion and turned to Edwin. "What's that you think?"

Edwin shrugged. "Reckon somebody's having a hard time accepting the results of a card game."

The commotion drew more eyes as it grew closer to the hatch. Finally, the door bursted open, and a scrawny young man was sent flying across the deck. He had shaggy blonde hair that just barely hid his large oval ears. His skin was pale, but most of it was hidden beneath a sea green shirt and brown trousers and boots. His face was as smooth as the day he was born and there was a wild look in his eye.

"Goddamn bloody stowaway!" shouted one of the sailors as he kicked him. The stowaway yelped, and scurried away from the mean boot of the angry sailor.

Gallador sighed. "Of all the ships." He walked over and grabbed the boy by his arm and yanked him up to his feet. "Do you know where you are, boy?"

The stowaway nodded his head quickly, and stuttered out an answer. "The Pride of Rorden, sir."

Gallador's brow furrowed. "And do you know who we are?" He spoke with a scolding tone, the type of tone a mother would take when disciplining her child.

The stowaway again nodded. He looked around at the mantles that surrounded him. The white of the Field Squadron and the red of the Rangers. "The expedition."

Gallador grunted. "You're clearly not lost...why are you here boy?"

The stowaway turned his head and looked at the castle, his wild eyes tamed with the sight of its dark walls. "I know this castle. I know where it came from."

The expedtionaries exchanged looks with each other, some curious, some angry, some skeptical.

Gallador let out a breath. "Does this castle have a name?"

The stowaway still had his gaze upon the castle walls. Moments passed, and he stood there silent as if the castle were whispering to him.

Gallador grew impatient. "Does the castle have a name? If you know, say it now. What is this place?"

"A place called Valadel," the stowaway said at last.

The name was foreign to Galladors ears, and not a name he had ever head before. "Valadel? How do you know of this place?"

The stowaway finally tore his gaze away from the castle, and looked to Gallador. "My...my grandfather told me stories of this place. A kingdom that had been sunken into the ocean many years ago."

"And who was this grandfather of yours?" Asked the Magus Irving. He had been listening intently, his interest piqued and his attention held. No scholar he knew had known the name of this place.

If this boy did...

"Not a man any of you would know. His name is Tometh Blackrain."

Irving knew the surname. "Like the Blackrain Mountains? Is he from the north?"

"No, sir. He is from the south, from Valdor."

"The Blackrain Mountains are quite a ways away from the southern sands. And how about you boy? Do you have a name?"

The stowaway nodded. "I do. Gabrielen, Gabrielen Blackrain."

"Are you from the south as well?"

Gabrielen shook his head. "I'm from Farrenhelm. I'm a northerner."

Gallador looked Gabrielen up and down, unsure of the boy. "Men," he said at last. "Take this stowaway below deck and chain him up. We'll deal with him when we return."

Gabrielen protested as the sailors seized him. Irving shook his head and went close to Gallador. "Sir Thornshield, a word?"

Gallador looked at the old Magus. "What is it, Magus?"

"This boy here...he knows more about this place then he let's on...more than myself I must admit. We should take him with us."

Gallador scoffed, and shook his head. "He's a stowaway on a warship. He'll likely be hanged when we return."

The Magus locked eyes with the ranger. "Then we should make use of him before he swings, shouldn't we?"

Gallador met the Magus with a challenging stare, but relented. He brought the Magus along for wisdom and advice, and he would heed it. The ranger waved his hand at the sailors. "Unhand him."

The sailors released Gabrielen from their grips, and he rubbed his wrists. The blood rushed to his fingers and the tingling faded away.

Gallador came up to his ear. "Let me tell you, stowaway...should you try anything, we will kill you. You will do what we say, and when we say it, and you will not stray from my sight. Understood?"

Gabrielen nodded slowly. "Understood."

"Good. Now let us go," said Gallador.

They all stood and walked over to the rowboat, entering one by one. Gallador and Edwin were at the bow, and the stowaway close behind them. The sailors lowered them into the seas, and the waves took them to the kingdom ahead.

The kingdom they called Valadel.

*****

(Thanks for reading, and I'd love to know what you think! Sound off in the comments! Your feedback is always appreciated!)