Three Months Later

Chapter I

It had been a month now, aye?
That would be Triaminas...

"Pentaminas, 14542..." one of the pirates shouted as he played dice with the others.

Pentaminas?! We had been hither for three months? My timing was wrong, then.

I guessed seasickness had invaded my head.
But how I envied them.

Was I merely all talk when I boasted to them that I could shine upon landfall?
This time, we had set up camp. Even a temporary wharf had to be built, and that alone was no small amount of work. The timing was right, too. Even the Adventurers Society had begun making its own maneuvers, settling into these uncharted lands with its staff and fellow adventurers.

The Inspector-General, meanwhile, had gone westward to report back.

I sighed. "Where are the Rayo Stags, griffins? I have heard that this supercontinent hath many of those alwuhush. Or even polymucugen. I could care less if 'tis a goblin." I called upon the alwuhush.

No adventuring for me.
More menial labor than I could ever have expected.
And women ought not to carry weights!

"Captain," I called upon Æran, who happened to be approaching me with his usual strut. "How different are Auluna and Inglovia?"

"'Tis rather a convoluted askance, Captain-General," he replied, passing his mug to me.

I raised a brow. "Well, I am the head of this expedition," I argued, taking the offered drink without hesitation.

"Even if ye ask me..." He sat beside me upon the sand, watching the midmorning sun. "Inglovia be home."

Naturally, I knew that.

"I am aware of that. And Auluna?"

"'Tis a foreign land," he said, smiling quietly as he sniffled.

"A pirate know nothing of this supercontinent? How ironic is't, Æran."

He cleared his throat. "And how ironic that ye boasted of something else three moons ago. What was it, Miss Margo?"

I avoided his gaze, instead looking northward, where another scattering of pirates from the crew were frolicking upon the shore.

“The race or something else?”

“I recall not... yet ye had said ye would teach us how to handle terrestrial alwuhush, such as goblins.”

“Well, there be no alwuhush, let alone wahsh akin to a polymucugen or something my blade hath pierced before,” I grunted, my feet spluttering upon the sand. “Shite!”

Of course, ’twas still the beachhead. Any further exploration toward the hinterland would have me arrested.

C’mon, Inspector-General... move thy bum at a pace swift as the God of Wind, Luftatius.
Or mayhaps the god of boundaries, Hermes.

“O, what am I doing? Praying to pagan gods! Forgive me, Messenger and His Mother Virgin,” I breathed quietly.

“What?”

“Eat some sand,” I huffed, still keeping my eyes away from him.

Then, within my periphery, came a squadron of ships. At most, there were ten vessels. From their pennants, they were all Grand Inglovians, indeed.
Great!

“Inspector-General?”

“We pray so, Captain-General.”

“Bah! Shite!”