I think a fourth part will be necessary.
Again, I’m kind of bad with pacing.
I heard the unlocking of my cell’s doors. The captain stood there again, a small group of vice captains next to him.
“Hawkins, your execution is scheduled to happen in one hour. For now, we’ll have to transport you to Palo. Follow me, the ketch is waiting outside.”
The captain began to walk away, and the other Grand Navy members escorted me out of the cell. On the way, we passed by the meeting room, which also functioned like a sort of court room. The wooden seats were placed on both sides of the room, and the windows let in a large amount of light. It was the first real sunlight I had seen for days since I was locked up. The sight of this room brought back some memories, and I fell back into a thoughtful, trance-like state as I recalled my other experience being in this room. Back when I wasn’t yet a wanted criminal of this sea.
I ended up not fighting back or running away as the vice captain walked up to me. Besides slipping my old dagger back into my belt, I was simply frozen there as he put the handcuffs on me. Against my will, I was brought onto the Navy caravel and taken to Silverhold, where I was brought to the very same room I was now walking through.
The major temporarily stationed there didn’t seem all too pleased with this vice captain’s actions. He screamed at him to go pursue the actual criminal, and told me to leave the Navy base. Only problem was, my ship was stuck, and probably sunken, at Harvest Island, and the Navy had no spare ships besides a rowboat. Begrudgingly, I took the rowboat, and started making my way back to Harvest Island. The rough waves splashed against my arms, the boat creaking as I rowed with what little strength I had.
Once I had reached Harvest Island, there was at least a few inches of water in my rowboat, which I had to pour out. My caravel was damaged beyond repair at this point, slowly tipping over and submerging. I was going to save whatever cargo I could, but nothing was salvageable. It looked as though some pirates had ransacked whatever I had left that was usable, with boxes of other less-desirable items drifting off into the sea. I watched the boxes float away as the sun slowly set, and I sat down on the edge of the stony ground.
I could not sail back in the dark of night, so I decided to stay overnight at Harvest Island. I dared not venture further beyond the edge of the island, as I’ve heard several criminals and heroes often fought or hid there. Sometimes clans would also show up here and claim the island, and I didn’t want to deal with that. I curled up on the stone, water occasionally spraying into my face. Eventually, I moved just slightly further island to avoid the waves, though the sounds of the island’s signature whirlpools rang in my ears. I grabbed an apple off the floor to eat, and lifted my rowboat out of the ocean and onto land so it wouldn’t get swept away, as I lacked an anchor. It might sustain a little damage, but it was better than being stranded forever.
I drifted to sleep on the soft autumnal grass, waking up early the next day. I lowered my rowboat back into the ocean, and began to row northward. I had a grand total of one box left I had miraculously found in the sinking ship, and I was determined to take it back to Palo for hope of some sort of refund. As I moved though, a thick fog set in, enveloping the world in white, Without any navigation tools, not even a compass or map, my only hope was to row in the direction I thought would lead me to safety.
After hours of painstakingly rowing forwards, I at least found land. With the fog having no sign of fading soon, I pushed onward, putting more effort than I had before into getting to land. But I soon realized that it wasn’t Palo, Frostmill, or even Goso Jungle or the Stepstones. It was Whitesummit, an abandoned and desolate snowy mountain island. I had never been here before, but it was better than rowing into the endless cast ocean.
With a heavy sigh, I stopped my rowboat at some sort of makeshift dock I found after rowing around the island a little. The cliffs were too high to ascend, so I stayed at the dock for a little while, carrying my last precious cargo box. As I walked, I noticed a few other ships, mostly sailboats. Maybe there was really life here, and not just snow. I shivered in my torn merchant coat and pants, but after some walking, I came across a small, hidden opening in the walls of the cliffs. Faint letters were inscribed in wood planks hanging over the opening. ‘Blackwater Grotto’.
I took cautious steps in, not knowing what to expect. At the door stood a man wearing a cowboy hat and undershirt jacket, holding an axe, but he didn’t care as I stepped past him. Still carrying my crate or cargo, I walked inwards, and inside was something I’d have never expected. A town was built in the underground cave, wooden houses constructed somewhat unprofessionally. Lights illuminated the cave, cast by torches hanging off the stone walls. Mushrooms grew in some corners, and stalactites hung from ceilings steadily. I stopped for a good minute or two just to take in the view of this unusual underground town.
After snapping out of my initial awe, I walked further in, encountering more people carrying weapons. Many were dressed in jackets or merchant coats, so I had to wonder if this was some secret merchant gathering spot. Some smalls hops were set up around the town, down what appeared to be some kind of main street, if you could call it that. Wood ramps provided accessibility up ledges, and wooden barrels and crates were stacked around the place. It was almost as though this was another Palo Town, but smaller. In my confusion, I stopped a passerby, setting down my crate for a moment.
“Hey, excuse me, but… Where am I?”
The person turned to face me, a look of confusion on their face. “Blackwater Grotto, a refuge for criminals like us… We welcome all, from powerful outlaws to the destitute. Are you a newcomer?”
I nodded, though I decided to keep the fact that I wasn’t a criminal secret. The person walked off, telling me to talk to one of the more knowledgeable residents of this town. Though, to be honest… what was the point in remaining a law-abiding citizen anymore if everything went wrong? Disasters out at sea were common an unavoidable, and for the second time in a row, I was left with almost nothing. No ship, no money, nowhere to stay.
What would I even do if I returned to Palo? I wasn’t going to spend months, even years, trying to regain my life. I’d have to transport cargo I couldn’t even afford using a rickety old rowboat. I’d be homeless, as I couldn’t even afford to stay at an inn. I’d be worse off there than I would be here.
Maybe I could make a living as a criminal now that I knew this town existed. Maybe I could just steal the cargo and sell it here. Maybe, even if I got arrested, I was at least safe from harm in prison, despite the downsides. Maybe I could just survive another day as a thief, and thrive again.
Maybe, perhaps, being a criminal wouldn’t be such a bad thing.