We boarded the ship almost the moment it docked. Bechia is no friend to me or my people, and Molash is even less so; although the city officials knew exactly what was happening, the people grew more and more hostile with every passing day. They saw us given their food and water out of “charity” – though Cedric told me that it was fear, not kindness, that drove the lord to fill our bowls. Bechia didn’t want open war with Brucia, let alone with Jarbia and Carapacia and Falamorna as well. It was all very well when the Brucian “king” made a deal with them… but they were wise enough to realize that a king who freely turned out his people was nothing but a fraud, and my own rise to power was not something they could openly oppose. At least, that’s what Cedric told me. I see nothing noble or wise in their sullen gazes. I think they fear our soldiers – especially veterans like Cedric and the other Ridire de Gaelac.
But Bechia is safely behind us. Now we are sailing away into the west.
I say safely away; aye, the dangers of Bechia are gone. I do remember Silencia’s troubles, though. As far as I know, the four kingdoms still bear a somewhat deadly plague of dragons. Eliana, my love, I hope you and your father came found something useful. We are stepping out of an anthill and into a wasp nest.
Aiie! Eliana, we will be together again! I traveled to Bechia to find you, but instead found and woke a part of me that was previously strange to me. Now I return, heart twice-strengthened by you and my newly-accepted purpose. I am king. I wonder… will you be my queen? It is perhaps unheard-of for a gypsy girl to wed a king, but then, it is just as likely for a wandering scribe to take a throne. You will be my exception, if you will have me.
What if she doesn’t want me anymore? No, I mustn’t think such thoughts. The weather is gloomy enough as it is, and the churning of the waves is making me feel quite ill. It will be a miracle if we aren’t all soaked through by morning.