Aleksei's Journal - The Rock of Tormentos
From the Journal of Aleksei Courtanveux du Agenais:
Amordi, 10th of Corantine, 1668:
I have often reflected that Monseiur Philip du Paix would not be the sort of man I would normally wish to be seen taking breakfast with, and yet I find myself too often in his company. I blame the unfortunate frequency of our meetings on my friend Julian, whom Monseiur du Paix seems to have some hold over and who I have too great a fondness for to leave in such sordid company alone. I recall Sebastien mentioning some order from above indenturing the Musketeer to Monseiur du Paix's service, though how such a thing came to be I do not know, save only that he joined Julian and I and in the meeting.
Lady Marie-Celeste accompanied me as well, no doubt continuing to play the nurse-maid. I cannot say I am yet accustomed to her presence in my home, but as she is both me senior in the Order and in need of domicile in Paix I could hardly refuse her. Yet I continue to wonder whether Mlle. Marie-Celeste represents some trepidation among my brother Knights about admitting one so young among the ranks of full members. Such doubt, of course, has no place in the mind of a member of the Rose and Cross and I shall set myself to putting it aside.
Regardless, the breakfast! M. du Paix introduced a gentleman of Eisen heritage who, like so many of his kin, was employed for his martial and tactical skill. Such skill was soon to be necessary, M. du Paix assured, as we (Julian, Sebastian, Mlle. Marie-Celeste and I) were to travel by sea to the Isla Tormentos and assists in its conquest. Dear M. Philippe had clearly confused us with with soldiers or some such.
Had that alone been the only surprise we were to endure perhaps it would have been a meeting much like all others we have had with him (a revelation that strongly compels me to end my association with the rogue). We had not yet discussed how we would approach a Castillian island fortress, though, and so we were introduced to the captain of the vessel that would convey us thither. None other than Captain Crispino himself arrived, smirking with self-confidence that he was protected from Sebastien's ire by M. du Paix's employment.
Somehow, despite the obvious spectre of treachery, we were all convinced that M. du Paix's plan must go forward. I cannot recall what clever explanation was provided but I am inclined to believe that Julian and Sebastien were compelled to go out of duty or obligation, and I acquiesced due to my youthful inclination toward adventure. Mlle. Marie-Celeste had no objection that I recall, though I think perhaps she does not know Philippe du Paix as of yet. By sunset we were all of us aboard "Il Falco", a brig captained by the Vodacce villian.
Guerdi, 12th of Corantine, 1668:
I admit to taking particular pleasure in playing the oblivious fop, though I am compelled to admit that I am no doubt good at it because I need not stretch particularly far to find the role within myself. In this particular case I find that it is particularly infuriating to Captain Crispino who, enjoying his role aboard the ship as the untouchable commander, does not hide his enjoyment of mocking the impotence of myself and my companions in avenging past wrongs. For my part I flirt with his paramour, the lovely crescent woman who is his second, frustrate his crew with unreasonable demands, and generally give only confused smiles when he attempts to evoke anger with a mocking remark. Quickly he seems to have gone from self-confident smugness at dinner to grinding his teeth in frustration. I find his displeasure an enjoyable method of passing the time.
Today there was a sea battle. I am told that I should not have ordered the detonation of the powder magazine of our attacker's vessel, but I always consider the source of such complaints. The first is Sebastien, who I believe unrealistically assumed that our boarding party's success in holding the forecastle for a few minutes was merely a prelude to the total routing of the ship's crew and (eventually) his first command of a sea-going vessel. I do not consider myself more level-headed in a fight that M. Sebastian (indeed, quite the opposite), but considering the number of stitches which I was required to sew in my dear friend I can only assume his criticism was more born out of delirious blood loss than a serious complaint.
The second was Captain Crispino, who perhaps worried that detonating an enemy ship's magazine a few meters away from his own vessel put his ship and crew at risk. Though I may, upon quiet self-reflection, consider this a reasonable and prudent concern I will never give him the satisfaction by indicating so. My penance was done in removing splinters from crewmen and stitching up the wounded; to the Captain I show nothing but indifference.
Besides, rather than condemning my actions one might think the Captain would be lavishing praise upon me and my compatriots. His ship, after all, was secured not by his hand but by the swift steel of Mlle. Marie-Celeste and Sebastien and the daring of Julian among the sails of the enemy. I have no time for a man who criticizes the manner in which he was saved from certain doom.
Finally, and more interesting than sea battles and dinners with sworn enemies, there is the matter of the woman locked in the room. I do not know her name, nor why she is sequestered away in the locked room connected to the Captain's, yet there is something entrancing about her. I would that I had opportunity to know more about her, but the Captain does not allow contact. I worry she is mistreated, yet she does not seem to act so.
I think perhaps she is a fate witch, though having never met one personally I confess I make such an assumption based on garb alone. Perhaps it is the child in me that has yet to fully transform to manhood, but I had always envisioned witches as something terrible or ugly. Stories from Vodacce that reached the court of Paix spoke of the Vodacce noble women in terms of their strange magics and warned to never meet the eyes of a woman wearing the traditional veil of the fate witches. And yet I would happily have met her eyes without fear and accepted whatever curse befell me in exchange. After all, I hear there is a kiss involved.
In two days we are to meet the fleet I am told. By then I should know more of this mysterious woman and whether Captain Crispino holds her hostage.
Soldi, 16 of Corantine, 1668:
So much has happened in so few days that it is difficult to recall with precision the details. As I write now by candlelight in my meager stateroom on the return voyage to Paix I am finally left alone with my thoughts and find myself in uncomfortable company.
The battle below La Punta Grande was short and relatively bloodless- even the prickly Castillian honor does not command men to throw themselves upon the pikes of their enemies. Would that the same could be said of the blood-slick stones of the fortress above. I am told that many men who fell in the fight will survive, though how they will fair under my country men's guard I cannot say nor do I wish to dwell upon such thoughts.
War is ugly business and I want no more part of it. It transforms men of courage into butchers, men of honor into murderers. The men of the gun crews at La Punta Grande were not prepared for the ambush prepared for them, and even as I participated I recognized that what my compatriots and I engaged in was no less than the slaughter of unprepared men. To my shame I was swept up in the sanguinous fervor and only upon reflection now in the cold wooden confines of my room do I recognize the horror of it all. I shall not make my name as a warrior, and if I can spare others from its ravages I will.
This sentiment has burdened me with the Governor of the Island and his daughter, the lovely Zoya. I doubt there is much trust remaining between myself and Don Cruz, but I have given my word that he and his daughter will be reunited with their family in Castille and so it must be so.
To reunite one family is surely no great change to the world, for there are tens of thousands of husbands who must wonder at the fate of their wives left in conquered lands, and tens of thousands of children wondering whether their father lies in a Montaigne prison or in the blood-soaked mud of a forgotten battlefield. I have no illusions that what I set out to do will not salve the wounds of this monstrous war. But I can do this one thing.
As to the four Vodacce noble women we now travel with I have already penned letters to my dear aunt Miriam and my father. Aunt Miriam has always been generous with me, but most importantly I do not believe she intends to ever leave the whirlwind world of politics in Charouse in favor of her small estate near my own. The ease with which a jealous Vodacce husband might trace the ladies to me is troubling. Mme. du Avion, however, has the same connection to me as dozens of other relatives, and none to the intrigues of a Vodacce court or its ladies. I suspect they will be safe there. I must adjust my finances, however, to accomodate their lifestyle.
The candle has nearly burned itself out now and the gentle lapping of waves against the wooden planks below lulls me to sleep. So I conclude:
The fragile splendour of the level sea,
The moon's serene and silver-veiled face,
Make of this vessel an enchanted place
Full of white mirth and golden sorcery.
Now, for a time, shall careless laughter be
Blended with song, to lend song sweeter grace,
And the old stars, in their unending race,
Shall heed and envy young humanity.
And yet to-night, a hundred leagues away,
These waters blush a strange and awful red.
Before the moon, a cloud obscenely grey
Rises from decks that crash with flying lead.
And these stars smile their immemorial way
On waves that shroud a thousand newly dead!