Letter 16

The three letters of this entry were all written by Tacitus, in the first and second months of 332 YBCE. The first details the arrival to Edinburgh and the preparation of their ship, logistics of navigation, and their new captain, who would take the helm even from Julia. The second details the voyage itself, the “sacrifices” they had to make to please the ocean, and how everyday life was on the water. Yet despite the sacrifices they prepared and how close they were compared to how far they had come, the crew suffered a terrible delay that nearly cost them the entire journey, which I will leave Tacitus to elaborate upon in the third letter.

- E. Celestina

When we arrived at Edinburgh’s gates, while the guardsmen and their captain gave us access without issue and pledged their fealty as Augusta marched past, the captain also insisted on apologizing. The messenger we had sent ahead was nearly not let in the gates, for even with the Travel Seal that he had shown, they simply could not fathom that the Princeps herself was this far from the Capital. Indeed, Edinburgh was only a short, two or three day’s march from the edge of Exetia’s border, which was also the mountains of Orkney. Whatever land lays past, is the only land that Exetia’s eyes have not yet claimed. Such a sense of awe and dread overcame me when I realized that, for we are horizons away from home, where for all we know, the dragon may have already crushed our armies and conquered the Capital. Still, this dreadful, worst-case scenario cannot dissuade us from our task, and at the very least, Augusta seems to be hardened on our forward progress.

We spoke to the Earl, who was quickly willing to prepare us one of his “finest ships” for the voyage to Arcadia. I could read in his eyes that he seemed doubtful of our explanation and journey, but he acted in our interests regardless due to our status. He insisted that he would allow a portion of his sailors to assist us, which I found rather generous—though I suppose it was also to appease Augusta, who no doubt read the uncertainty in his eyes like I had. Within one week’s time, we will have had a vessel prepared to carry us there.

The captain the Earl selected for us was Thomas Cochrane, one of his most competent, and on our first meeting Cochrane lent us a more well-adjusted and accurate map of the journey we were to travel. The path seemed simple—merely a 800-mile voyage through the Edinburgh Sea and out until open water, straight ahead until we reached the Arcadia, which rounded to a fifteen-day journey. Though, Cochrane informed us of more complications. While he acknowledged the urgency of the overlying crisis, he also informed us that at this time of year, winds from the Orkney Mountains made the Edinburgh Sea chilly, stormy, and icy. While there were competent Magicians that could redirect or melt the ice as it approached, reduce the turbulence of the seas, or mend the ship quicker than a craftsman by himself could, this did not sufficiently lower the risk of the journey for him. The aforementioned issues he said were manageable, however there was one that no amount of magic could overcome.

“The Maiden of the Seas. You must know her.”

Of course, we had heard of her in Anaxagoras’ class, where we had gone over the myriad of other sapient species across Britain. Though I knew of her, it only occurred to me then that, now that we were about to set upon water, she may become an obstacle for us. Exeter, being landlocked, had no direct interaction with the Maiden, but Cochrane spoke as if he was deathly familiar. The Maiden hunted not sealife, for she saw herself as its sovereign, but rather she preyed on land creatures, uncaring of what they were: animal or man, to feed to herself and her sirens(1). To minimize the risk of human loss, it was common for tradeships to install pigs, cows or sheep, and if she were to arrive, the crew would evacuate the top deck and allow her to feast on their sacrifices. The number that she consumed was, strangely enough, always six. Thus, it was obvious that twelve animals, twice as much as necessary in case some were taken from Wyvern attacks or perished from disease, must be taken. Even with this precaution, Cochrane still possessed doubt. Due to the cold winter, ships seldom left the harbor, meaning the ones that did leave had a much higher probability of meeting the Maiden and her sirens.

“We have the best-laid plans for you. But there is no plan in the world that can account completely for the wild. If this voyage came at the request of any other person but the Princeps, I would refuse it.”

1. Siren: Creatures with the top body of a woman and the bottom half of a sea creature. Their voices are so beautiful, they can cause men and women alike to jump overboard. Men are drowned and consumed, while women are converted into sirens themselves. All sirens serve the Maiden of the Sea.

We left the port of Edinburgh on the second day of the Month of Romance. As I write this, we are a little under halfway through our voyage. We left upon three Triremes(2), splitting our hundred men across all three, and accompanied by three dozen of Edinburgh’s sailors divided amongst each one. The lead Trireme, named Alpha for this voyage, is being led by Cochrane with Augusta and myself as accompaniment. Cochrane also made one thing clear to us: though Augusta and her officers held higher technical authority, we were in the territory of his profession, and so requested that his orders would be the final ones while we were on the water. Augusta, who seemed to respect his audacious demand, granted it. When I had asked her why she, the Princeps, relinquished full control of her forces, she only shrugged and told me, “I know not of the first thing about sailing. Why should I grant the final calls, then?”

Trireme Beta held Athina and Cassian, the latter of whom insisted he stay with her, and Gamma held Marcus. Though we all could have theoretically fit on one Trireme, our splitting across three served several purposes, the foremost also being the most pragmatic: if a ship were to sink and lives were to be lost, then the voyage could still press on, giving us a higher chance to succeed. Multiple ships also meant more room for the animals, of which I currently am sitting next to one below deck as I write this letter, as well as more room for food and drink storage, as well as sleeping quarters. We also did not need a combined force to row a single ship as fast as possible, as our Warlocks provided the magic-powered winds to push our sails and propel us at good speed without the need for regular rowing.

Cochrane had mapped out six stops at islands along the way, which we would roughly visit one every other day to resupply, relieve ourselves, or simply stretch our legs. He had clarified before our sailing that each visit was not guaranteed due to storms and treacherous waters, and I can confirm his worry: of the three stops we were supposed to have come to, we had only arrived at two of them. Our Warlocks have also grown exhausted, and find themselves working in shifts to keep dangerous ice rafts away or mend damage to the hulls, but less people active at once means more vulnerability to attack. I have also seen that several of our men are seasick, and may be out of commission until we make proper landfall at Arcadia. What has become even more tragic is the food: all the fresh food we had taken from Edinburgh has long since been consumed, since it would go bad within a day, leaving all of our reserve rations to be hard breads and dried meats and dried fruit. While we have crammed discipline into our men, I can sense their internal anguish at only eating perhaps four or five hard tack per day, a chunk of jerky or dried apple, then sleeping next to a fully alive cow or pig that was not meant for them. Augusta had made a pre-emptive decree to address this concern: if an animal was found dead by one of our soldiers’ hands, then it would be considered treachery, and they would be stripped of their honors and treated as a captive for the rest of our time away from home. It was a declaration that was needed. Though, with a sheep brushing against my leg as I ink these words, I find myself pitying my own stomach.

To pass the time, I have also communicated with our Pedagogue whenever he had the energy to. When I informed him of the voyage’s troubles, he brushed it off and told me that our experience was the daily life for sailors, and to not grow too anxious. I, half-jokingly, told him he was only so certain because he no longer had the impulse of hunger. At my words, he strangely turned pensive. “I harbor hunger no longer. But, the desire to eat simply for pleasure? That I still crave, and that I curse myself for losing.”

I will recount one more story, simply to pass more time until my eyes grow heavy. On one of our island stops, which was a rare, sunny and slightly warm day, while our men were off gathering supplies, feeding the livestock and relieving themselves, we spotted some fruit hanging atop tall trees. Upon asking Cochrane, he told us the fruit was wintermelon, named due to its ability to stay fresh even through winter. We all took the opportunity, of course, to make its procurement a game, and within minutes, Cassian, Marcus, Athina and I were racing up the slippery sides of the wintermelon trees to pull them from their high roots, where the winner would get an entire gourd to themselves. For a while, we were drastically unsuccessful, until Augusta caught wind of our competition and walked up herself. She took one look at the trees, unsheathed her sword, and slashed it in two, pushing it to fall safely away from our men.

“Ever since childhood, you all have been horrid at listening to directions. When did everyone agree, exactly, that you had to climb the tree to get the fruit?”

As she was speaking, Cassian snuck past her and ripped the fruit from the leaves, and hefted it high in the air as our soldiers cheered on his name. Augusta looked the furthest from upset, and instead burst into laughter as Cassian marched around victorious and, after Athina had kissed his cheek, the rest of the soldiers carried the two off back to the ship like they had just finished an applauding stage performance. The other wintermelon trees were cut down for their fruit, save two or three by my order so that future sailors could enjoy them as well. Upon trying the fruit itself, I disliked the taste, and offered the rest of my portion to Augusta. From her stretched cheeks, I could very much tell she felt the opposite, and was hungry like the rest of our soldiers. She had turned away when she caught me looking for a little too long, though did not stand or walk from me.

“Why must you look at me now? Do not judge a woman’s avarice…”

“It is not avarice to indulge in what you need.”

“Well then, I do not need your aphorisms, Tacitus!”

If I must be completely sincere at this moment, I enjoyed how freely she became upset with me.

2. Trireme: The name for typical military naval vessels during the time of the Empire and the early days of Camelot.

I regret to inform whomever may read this that I write this letter not on the shores of Arcadia, but rather on the beaches of the Everred Forest(3). As I carve this ink, the evening has come and gone. The waves calm, our men and women sleeping. At least, what remains of us, are resting.

We had arrived at our fifth stop on the fourteenth day of the Month of Romance, an island with a high mountain and evergreens that no doubt had plenty of supplies that we could scavenge. Captain Cochrane informed us that this stop would be overnight, simply to rest before the final stretches, so some of us made camp beachside, some took the livestock out for them to graze and keep them from getting restless, while others foraged the woods. It was also the same day as the Romance Festival in Exeter, which of course meant that Cassian was all over Athina then. To his credit, and forgive me for my tangent, but I feel as if I need to make myself smile at this time, Athina would reciprocate his affections, and seeing them together so closely stirred happiness in my heart that he really had found someone right for him.

Our night was filled with ales and ciders that we had preserved just for this day, and it was the only day that Augusta permitted us to be loose, for after a long journey at sea, she saw that we were finally deserving of recreation. We drank, told our love stories, and some even danced around the fire, singing songs of home, reciting ballads from our favorite local bards, and drank some more, of course. I recall four or five new couples being formed that night, the ales and the context of the day finally getting some of our century’s soldiers to confess to one another after months of being out on expedition together. Marcus, the serious one he always was, seemed to soften as he went to approach one of our junior officers, Tetia. His voice was uncharacteristically apprehensive and shy to her, yet she seemed delighted by whatever he was saying. Next to me, I recall Augusta looking at them with gratefulness, yet also a tinge of wistfulness. Or perhaps it was just me projecting those feelings unto her. Some time into the night, I noticed Cassian had built his tent a good distance away from the rest of our party, and carried Athina into it an hour or so before the night was over. Though I said no word about it, subtlety really was never his strong suit.

That is where the celebrations end. That morning, before the sun had even risen, we awoke to the emergency horn of the Captain, a signal for all of us to grab only what was absolutely essential and make an emergency run for the ships. I rushed out of my tent, only grabbing my bag with my Pedagogue and notebook, and noticed the mountain above was rumbling with white, though it was not snow. The white was alive with movement.

Cochrane and his crew prepared the ships on the double, while Augusta turned our men to face the coming threat. I had asked Cochrane what his crew had seen, and he informed us the nightguards had heard the distant roar of what was like a sickly Wyvern, and the response was what we were seeing then: a massive onslaught of Wyrms, their lesser minions, thin, flying and snake-like, careening down toward the hill at us by the hundreds. The stragglers in the front were easy to pick off with swords, but as more came, our meager force of one-hundred I knew was going to be overwhelmed. It was then, after we had cut down and slain perhaps ten or twelve Wyrms each, that we heard that grotesque rumble from the woods, and out from the shadows emerged a beast so terrible and malformed that I struggle to describe its appearance on paper.

It was as if hundreds of Wyrms had all melted or mixed together, wrapped around each other like a string of yarn, yet stretched into the shape of a thousand-headed creature, biting and snapping at whatever was close. It rolled at us like a ball, releasing Wyrms and absorbing them into itself, creatures growing out of other creatures, the sight so disgusting that a few of our men vomited upon the sight, and the smell was evermore so terrible. It engaged with our front, and to my horror, five, ten or twenty heads would bite down on each man, ripping them to shreds so unsightly. Shouts of defiance had changed to cries of terror as our soldiers, who had seen monsters larger but none so horrific, attempted to fight but did not damage. We cut off one head, only for multiple to grow back. We shot tarfire arrows at it, only for it to cut out the burned parts of itself so it may continue to grow unabated. After several minutes, the Triremes were ready, but with so many Wyrms overwhelming the beaches, many of us struggled to return. I found Augusta, her shoulder, upper arm and thigh with bite marks, but nothing else major as I guided her and my assigned men to Alpha. Adjacent to us, I saw Beta being quickly loaded by Cassian, Athina slaughtering the Wyrms that broke through our front flanks.

We had no idea of how many men had been lost at that point, so the Captain blew the horn twice: a signal that within one minute, they would leave and if you were left behind it was final. He made a decision to conserve who had already been saved and cut losses, else the ships themselves would be saturated with those terrible creatures.

The many-headed beast lurched forward, its white, rippling scales now red with my men’s blood. I shot three, four, maybe fire tarfires at it, yet still the burning did little more than kill ten or fifteen heads from the hundreds it had. After one minute, with from what I counted to be perhaps thirty crew, we pushed off the beach and released, hoping the others would get onto the remaining triremes. Cassian’s ship pushed away moments after us, and after clearing the top deck of Wyrms, I could see Cassian and Athina raise their swords up in acknowledgement.

Yet, we all turned to see Gamma, and we watched as the beast grew uneven wings and floated forward before coming down to crush the bow, and it burst in an explosion of splinters and wood boards. Marcus, at the stern, looked back to us, our ships already distant enough to make swimming difficult. Many men left behind tried to, but the Wyrms, light and serpentine, could easily travel through the water. Warlocks attempted to save as many in the water as they could, and credit to them, they managed to scrounge a handful of lives back to our ships, but I only heard of this after the fact, for my eyes then were only on Marcus as he drew his sword and turned to the beast.

I know not of what he was thinking. I have a deep feeling in my heart that, before he turned around, the last eyes he acknowledged were my own. He attacked the monster directly, alone, cutting and slashing with the wrathful roar of an honorable soldier, and I watched his body be torn and ripped as he tore and ripped back until he could no longer stand. As he fell, the men left behind on the beach turned to fight. Their bodies, which the [Ladon](4) feasted on, were the only reason why it decided not to pursue us through the water.

I recall turning, and seeing Augusta crying, silent but tearful, facing away from the rest of the men. I held her hand, which held the ship’s wood so tight I could see it cracking, and she said no other words. In the distance, on Beta, we heard the vengeful, sorrowful cries of Cassian, louder than any other soul aboard our two ships. I say heard, because my vision was too blurry then to view him.

Marcus Gnaeus Juno, I thank you. You are Exeter’s virtus. I hope with all my heart that you and Tetia found each other in Elysium.

To you who are reading this, I regret to inform that this was not the end of our living nightmare. For, in our hurry, we could not save our livestock.

Yesterday, we were in grief, hazy from the alcohol and lack of good rest, and had lost roughly a quarter of our century and Edinburgh's crew. I recall, hours after we had left that island, Augusta sitting at the bow, still facing away from everyone else, writing the names of who had perished on a paper. She had grabbed by arm then, her eyes red with tears, as she told me to count amongst our ships who survived, so she may write down who did not. When she came to Marcus’ name, she struggled, and so I did it for her. She thanked me, then gently asked if she would be on her lonesome for a while. I obliged her.

Cochrane’s crew was shaken up the same as us, but due to their professionalism from sailing, had done their best to keep things running and our morale up, and forced us to stay hydrated and satiated even if we did not feel the need to. Early in the afternoon, we arrived at our sixth and final stop, after which would be a straight journey to Arcadia. This time, we simply gathered supplies, got as much food as we could from the island, then promptly left within three hours. None of us had a particular urge to stand idly by.

It was when the dusk was settling in that we felt it. The seas had, for some reason, become calm, which our side had misinterpreted as a good sign, but a look of dread came upon Edinburgh’s sailors as they quickly issued out wax for everyone to place in their ears. I only caught a little of it before I had deafened myself, there was singing in the distance. I remember Cochrane’s eyes as he marched past us. For the first time, he looked genuinely panicked, and he mouthed to me exactly what we were all fearful of.

“The Maiden is here.”

We all went below deck, pulled in all oars, and left out our barrels of dried foods in hopes that those would be enough to appease her, but Cochrane’s expression was dreadfully doubtful. In retrospect, I know not if it would be more of an insult to her if we presented her with nothing, or with the pitiful excuse of food we had just offered such a powerful creature.

None of us could hear the singing at that point, but we felt its vibrations through our feet and running throughout the ship. Outside of the portholes, I caught the quick glimpse of some things, long and tendrilous, flinging itself around our Trireme, then moments later the same silhouette came across the other side. I looked down at Augusta, who had a hardened face, much unlike the men and women around me, who seemed more apprehensive and terrified at the unknown outside. Cochrane stood at the base of the stairway to the top, hand clutching his sword. He was no doubt the one most used to the Maiden, but even I could see the trembling in his hands. For, this was likely the first time that he had no proper sacrifices to give her. And, it was then she reminded us of our failure to give her tribute.

The singing grew louder. More sonorant and beautiful, but louder, to the point where the boat was vibrating and the thick wax in our ears started to fail to truly deafen us. I saw, one by one, as the singing became more resonant and audible, my comrades stood from their crouched positions and began walking, ever slowly, to the stairway. They did it in unison, as if something had possessed them. I saw our Captain try to order them to stay below deck, but after several walked past him, his eyes glazed over, and he turned to join them. Regretfully, I did as well.

I do not personally know what happened between then and when I came to, though I have an outside account that I will explain later. For that moment, when I felt myself move, perhaps of my own will, of the will of that singing, or some combination of both, I heard not that ethereal voice. I heard my mother. My mother, humming me the lullabies she would sing to me from my infancy to my tenth birthday. The same song that she sang to me whenever I grew sad. The same song that she sang to me when she held me in her arms in Londinium. The same song that I wish she was singing to me then, and singing to me now. I heard it all, and remember only walking to reach her, to see her, to hold her. I want to be home.

Then it all ended with a terrible shriek of pain. When I opened my eyes, I saw Augusta standing on the bow of our Trireme, her position as if she had thrown something. I looked forward, and saw what it was: a spear lodged in the Maiden’s eye. Her body, though assuredly described before, was one of a beautiful woman from the thighs upward, with nearly identical anatomy to one, though the fins of a fish grew from her hips and her legs extended into tentacles of immense length. Her face I could not appraise, as at that moment it was contorted in anger and pain, as Augusta’s spear had pierced her.

Augusta turned at everyone, and told us to row for our lives. Warlocks, dazed but conscious, took their scipios and blew the sails. Our soldiers rushed to the sides, taking the oars and rowing as fast as they humanly could. Across the way, I could see Beta doing the same, Cassian echoing the same commands as Augusta was. I nearly turned to rush below deck and contribute to our escape, but the Maiden had launched something fast at the back of Augusta’s head, so I grabbed her and forced her to the ground. She was safe, but whatever the attack was split our main mast in two, and our ship greatly slowed its speed, the sail falling into the waters that I had then noticed were becoming monstrously frothy, and the winds wild.

The Maiden’s cries of pain turned to wails of wrath, and walls of water battered us within minutes. A storm grew overhead, striking our ships and creating turbulence we had never experienced before. In the chaos, I could only control what was in front of me. So I did.

I held my bag tight, and preserved its contents against my body. Then, I embraced Augusta tight, and told her to not let go as everything fell apart. As I write this, my journal is within my hands, damp but still able to be written in after drying in the sun all day. Sitting next to me is the smoothened Lithos, glowing and beating with my Pedagogue’s soul. And, sound asleep in the tent across from mine is our Princeps. Only thirty-three of our century remain, including Cassian and Athina, who carried each other to the shores of the Red Forest by the skin of their teeth, and went back into the waters to help any other survivors. Ten of Edinburgh’s sailors remain. Thomas Cochrane is not among them. Forty-three, therefore, are left under Augusta’s command.

I made a decision to abandon all other responsibilities and preserve what I could. It was the right decision…yet even our most correct choices can lead to immense failure.

I had asked Julia, perhaps an hour before we slept, what exactly occurred then. I will do my best to recount her words as her own:

“I also heard the singing. It sounded like Father, gentle, joyous yet strong, beckoning me forward to join him. But I knew that was wrong. He’s gone. And that, that made me angry. I felt a wrath grow. Anger that I lost so many to Gomorrah, and that horrible monster. Anger that that thing was mocking my father’s voice. I wanted it all to stop. The rage I felt then, somehow broke the curse it placed upon me. Then, I grabbed a spear and threw it at it. It flew faster than I had ever thrown a spear before. It struck her eye. And then…everything else followed.”

Footnotes: 

3. Everred Forest: A great forest eternally in autumn that stretches the length of Britannia’s far eastern coast. Some scholars theorize that all the trees are actually one collective organism.

4. Ladon: The monster that attacked Julia and her crew has, in modern times, since been identified as a Ladon. Ladons are not a natural species, but rather form in very specific conditions where Wyrms mutate, multiply asexually, then consume and absorb one another. They are extremely rare, with one showing up on average every five to ten years, and are extraordinarily difficult to kill.