First Draft

The hunting horn, in the wailing wind

A horde to mourn, who have gravely sinned.

The huntsmen lead, as they bleed;

They shall not take heed, for they live by creed.

In nocturnal cold, march the souls of old;

They yearn the font-mark the final hunt.

This dark chant echoed in Edward Erikson's mind, the only tune that reminded him of his late father.

This would occur as often as the "Black Blood" curse coursed through his veins, causing him agonizing pain and fragility; one of these painful instances just so happened in bed while he was having a feverish nightmare based on the dark chant.

Luckily for Captain Edward, he was awoken by the sound of knocking from his door.

"Captain, we're nearing the harbor," said Quarter Master Lucas as he entered the Captain's private cabin, stopping once he noticed Edward covered in a cold sweat.

"Huff...huff...what are you standing there for, young lad? Tell me how much time we've got till we reach Barcelona," Edward said while getting up from bed, wiping his sweat off with his blanket.

"Your curse is worsening, isn't it?" Lucas said with concern on his face. He walked closer to Edward, noticing the blackened veins across Edward's entire body as Edward changed into his work clothes.

I strapped on my black leather boots, donned my dark blue long coat, and put on my black tricorne hat with yellow trim. I carried my trusted flintlock pistol and saber, with Lucas by my side.

Once dressed, I walked towards the quarter deck, feeling the ocean mist on my face and smelling the salty air; it made me almost forget the pain I had just experienced, reminding me of my love for seafaring.

As I gazed upon the incoming dusk, Lucas and I took time to overlook our privateer crew, all one hundred of the toughest men in all the seven seas, some of whom were former slaves in merchant ships in which Lucas and I, back in our pirate days, robbed and took the slaves as part of my crew.

"The moon is upon us now, isn't it?" Edward said calmly to himself before stepping down and making his way to the main deck to go over the plan for the land heist with his crew. "Alright, men, here's how this operation shall go," said Edward, facing his entire crew as they docked at the Spanish port.

"Thanks to the information given to us by our mole, we know that the Holy Grail is hidden in the treasury vault of the Basilica of Montserrat," I said in a raspy voice as black phlegm got caught in my throat.

"I decided to divide this crew into three groups. Group One's job is to scale the mountains near Montserrat and to sneak up from behind; Group Two's job is to divert the attention of Spanish authorities or anyone else who might get in our way, and Group Three's job is to ensure transportation to get to our location points and extraction points to make sure we can leave once we claim the Holy Grail to ourselves."

Once I finished discussing the plans with my crew, we looked out over the main deck's walls and gazed at Barcelona's beautiful buildings; the brick-and-mortar layers looked aged yet pristine, just like the finest wines a royal might drink.

Once we landed ashore, I tasked my shipwright, Franklin, to lead group three and stay on the ship, while the other half of group three prepared the horse carriages to take groups one and two to Catalonia, where the monastery is located.

Once we boarded the carriages carrying our goods and hidden weapons, we set out across the Catalan terrain, resting to prepare for the long road ahead. The rocky trails from the coastal plains made the carriage ride far more rugged than we wanted.

As the new moon reached its peak, Lucas looked at me with the same expression of concern as hours earlier. "What is on your mind, Lucas?" I said, black blood dripping from my nose. "Captain, you haven't slept for this entire night," said Lucas, passing Edward a handkerchief to wipe my bloody nose.

"It's not that I haven't tried to sleep; it's just that I can't seem to drift off without seeing the same blasted nightmares," I said with a look of distress, because my mind had reached a point where it resembled turbulent waters more dangerous than the seas themselves.

"Correct me if I am wrong, but is that the true reason you agreed to this voyage to see if the Holy Grail can cure you?" I looked back at Lucas with a reassuring expression, knowing full well that he would discover my true intentions sooner or later.

"You would be correct, my friend; despite this voyage being under the authority of the Crown, I have heard legends from my father that the Grail could perform miracles, like curing illnesses, granting immortality, and even cleansing curses." Lucas placed his palm on his head in disbelief.

"I think I understand now; that must be why King George the Second wants the Grail. He wants to achieve eternal life." Lucas then picked up the map and squinted at it, putting the pieces together for the heist plan.

"So about this mole, how does he know about the Grail's whereabouts, and does he know about your curse?" I solemnly grinned at Lucas as the winds of the lowlands brought nothing but sweltering heat, yet I felt nothing but a cold chill through my blackened veins.

"I wish I had answers to those questions myself. I've had this curse for five years, and all I know is I must have inherited it from my father, Eric. He was in his forties when he passed away, and I fear I may suffer the same fate given my age."

When I finished wiping away all the black blood from my nose, I was reminded of my mortality, how my days in the mortal world were numbered, and there was no telling what fate had in store for my cursed bloodline.

Was all of this scheming worth it? Does this mysterious mole know more than he lets on? Will I be willing to risk the lives of others, even my crew, to obtain the Holy Grail for myself?

Only time could tell; sadly, time was not on my side, and before I knew it, we had reached our destination: Santa Maria de Montserrat Abbey awaited me as the sun rose, and I decided to chart my own course for my own sake.