I hadn't hesitated for a moment when Lord Buntley made the proposal, only a fool would have turned him down. A ship under my command; state of the art, with a crew of my choosing, and a generous stipend to cover expenses during my first great voyage. Yes, the destination was one captains shunned for its fickle nature and wealth of dangers, but all I saw at the time was a chance. Fame and infamy were two sides of a coin on this mission, however, the odds were firmly in my favor. If I'd find Maester Jeraume, believed to be dead, and took him back to Oldtown, it would rouse quite a stir whether he'd prove his lofty claims about 'Valyrian Marble' or not. And if I failed, if I returned empty-handed, I'd still have made a name for myself. I'd be the captain who sailed to the corsair nests of Talon without fear, navigated the treacherous waters of the Basilisk Isles, and came back alive. With a reputation like this, I would never find myself out of work, would never be stranded in the taverns of Oldtown again. It was hardly a gamble. I had everything to gain and nothing to lose from this grand adventure, and I felt well-prepared for the voyage.
The Azure Tide was a beauty if the seas had ever seen one, with sky blue and bright orange sails resembling House Buntley's colors. She accomodated a hundred and sixty-five men, and I had hand-picked my crew from two very different sources. Lord Buntley had presented me with a list of experienced men who had sailed under his banner before. I had filled positions of authority from this selection; the first mate, the quartermaster, the boatswains, and a good cook for my own convenience at sea. The lower ranks, however, had been recruited from the taverns I spent so much time in throughout the past months. These men had suffered hard times on land and were as eager to set sail as I was myself. In the end, no experience in the world could replace a raw thirst for adventure, as Lord Buntley's long-winded search for a daring captain had shown.
﴾ _ ﴿
We had left the port of Planky Town almost three weeks ago when Gimor, my first mate, sought me out in my cabin. As always, his attire was impeccable and his demenaor a little too stern, but his fifteen years at sea made up for the dull company he provided. He waited by the door and noisily cleared his throat to rouse my attention, but I took my time and only acknowledged the disturbance after carefully rolling up the chart I had studied.
"My apologies for the intrusion, captain", he solemnly began, then got straight to the point. "Something needs to be done about the consumption of rum. I found six sailors drunk on the hallway outside the storage compartment in the morning, among them the two men supposed to guard the supplies." He crossed his hands behind his back and came closer to my desk. "It is hardly the first incident of this kind since our departure from Planky Town. And with all due respect, captain, you assured me you'd limit the crew's access thrice, yet by now nothing has been done to address this problem."
"Were these men on duty?" I inquired. "Were they supposed to be elsewhere? Was work left undone or neglected?"
Gimor shot me a skeptical glance before he answered, resuming his dull, dutiful glare straight ahead. "Only the two guards, Segan and Davyn," he said. "They did not leave their posts, but they certainly were not doing their duty."
"Assign them to a different post then," I gave back and reached for my charts. "The crew works hard day in and day out, I don't begrudge them the little diversion they find." Now Gimor huffed and openly stared at me, but I commanded his silence with a wave of my hand. "Spare me your counsel. I know you disagree with me, we've had this debate more than once. As long as their drinking and dice games don't get in the way, my orders won't change. Once we reach Talon, you'll be glad for a crew of roughnecks who fit in with the locals."
"Their behavior does 'get in the way'," Gimor replied through gritted teeth.
I sighed, pushed the charts away and leaned back in my chair. Did the man never tire of questioning my authority? Was a little graditude for the second chance I had given him asked too much? Lord Buntley had stripped him of his command after Gimor had lost one too many barrels of cargo, and his name had almost been omitted from the list I was given to pick my crew from. Of course, he had blamed thieving sailors for the missing barrels, but it still spoke to his lack of leadership skills that it had happened under his nose. I found his years of experience useful enough and made my case for him nonetheless, and Lord Buntley had ultimately sanctioned my choice. By now, I had begun to regret it as Gimor was not only dull, but also petty and clearly disliked that he had to take orders from a young captain like me.
"How so?" I asked, though I was not in the mood for a lengthy discussion, expecting nothing more than the usual lecture about how Gimor would run the ship in my place.
"We'll run out of rum long before we reach the Basilisk Isles, even if we enforce the daily rations and post more reliable guards," he said instead. "Quartermaster Kiran estimates the last barrel will be empty within eight more days."
I considered that for a moment, then I unrolled one of the charts with a swift, elegant motion. "Set course for Naath," I offered an equally swift solution. "We'll take in new supplies there and for now, we'll ration the rum."
"Naath?" Gimor's voice betrayed that he had reservations.
"I'm well-aware of the butterfly fever," I firmly cut him off before he could say them out loud. "The danger is grossly overstated. Not a single case of the disease has been reported in the past years, some maesters even consider it close to extinct. But to put your mind at ease, we'll anchor at night and conduct our business as fast as we can."
﴾ _ ﴿
The coastline of Naath almost looked out of place after seeing nothing but water for several weeks. It had been a calm day at sea, and a calm night was to follow. We had struck the sails offshore in the late afternoon to wait for nightfall and the mood was elated. Rationing the rum and wine had not been a popular decision, but Gimor had insisted on enforcing the order nonetheless. Unlike many of the crewmen, he evidently lacked an appreciation for the freedom afforded to sailors, and I told him to ease up more than once, to no avail. The sight of Naath's exotic shores finally brought relief from the tension, and the crew confirmed that my approach to leadership was more fruitful than Gimor's iron fist. The dinghies were prepared long before the sun had fully set, the cargo deck had been tidied up, and the men had been on their best behavior all day in hopes of being selected for the landing party.
"It's too dangerous," I heard someone say when I made my round on deck. "I once met a sailor from New Ghis who was the sole survivor of a voyage to Naath! He told me the Butterfly Fever ravaged the ship within days! In the end it was only him, a ship boy and their maimed cook on a raft, and those two perished before they reached shallow waters."
I recognized the voice as belonging to Kiony, a young deckhand from a settlement on the coast of Cape Wrath. He was talking to a younger boy, Nav or Nev, I don't really recall. "How old was this sailor who told you the story?" I casually inquired as I walked toward the two.
"Captain!" Kiony quickly stood at attention, Nav or Nev followed suit, but I beckoned them to stand comfortably again right away. "He was... I don't know. Old. Really old. He was a Ghiscari, you know how they are. The amber complexion hides the years in their features, until white shrouds and wrinkles suddenly emerge over night and make it look like they're two-hundred years old." He laughed and lifted himself up onto a barrel. "That's how old the man was when he told me the story."
Though I couldn't vouch for the peculiar changes in aging Ghiscari, I nodded. Kiony had said enough to confirm my suspicion. "It likely happened before he was 'really old', if it is even true," I said with a knowing smile. "Yarn, too, changes when the events occured long ago."
Kiony exchanged a long glance with Nav or Nev, then their faces lightened up in realization. "He did say it happened on his first voyage," Kiony noted. "How did you know, captain?"
"Such a dramatic recount might be embellished to make for better entertainment in the taverns," I gave back. "I spent quite some time with old, bored sailors and their stories, and I have learned that only very few of them hold any truth. There haven't been any recent cases of Butterfly Fever. I would have heard about it while studying navigation in a city of sailors." I put a hand on Kiony's shoulder to reassure him. "I would not have set course for Naath if I thought it was something to worry about."
"Can we join the landing party?" Nav or Nev burst out, now looking excited. "This is my first voyage! If there's no danger, please let me join, so I can craft my own stories about this great adventure!"
"Of course," I replied with a smile. "A good captain knows the value of a good story. Speak to Davyn, I believe he has room for two more men in his dinghy."
﴾ _ ﴿
Moonlight danced upon the gentle waves by the coast, making it look as if our boats were floating on magic. Ahead of us, on a coastal hilltop, the ruins of the old Valyrian fort loomed. The black dragonstone walls almost merged with the night from the distance, and when we set foot on the sandy beach, they only appeared as a pitch-black absence of light against the star-spangled sky.
The Peaceful People of Naath awaited us by the foothills. They appeared like ethereal beings, dressed in colorful, shimmering silk and with warm golden eyes, and I felt strangely honored that they welcomed us to their mystical world so freely. A few of them spoke the Common Tongue, albeit broken and with a strong accent, and so I learned why they were not afraid of strangers approaching at night. "Naath has seen many invaders in the past," a woman in a flowing, red gown told me on our way to their village. "Ghiscari, Volantene, corsairs from every coast of the Summer Sea. What they all have in common is that they don't warn us of their arrival. They remain hidden and strike when we least expect an attack. A ship waiting for nightfall offshore in plain sight, however, heralds no danger. It signals the arrival of new friends and a rare chance for trade."
An exotic feast awaited us in the quaint, primitive village, a welcome change from the monotony of rationed food. I ate succulent fruits I had never seen before, I drank the sweetest nectars and wines in the world, and for once I didn't mind Gimor's overzealous dedication to duty. He had volunteered to remain on the ship while I conducted our business with the Naathi, and it suited me just fine that his dour mood didn't tarnish this merry night.
As it was a small village with only a dozen of huts, the quantity of the trade goods was limited. However, the quality easily made up for it and I found the merchandise well-worth the price. Yes, we'd have to ration our supplies for a little while longer, but we'd reach the Basilisk Isles and their many ports in less than a week. The Naathi woman had mentioned a settlement on the western shore of the Isle of Flies, a smuggler's den I presumed from her description. Where there were smugglers, there would be plenty of barrels and just as much greed. We'd be able to fill our cargo bays there with more rum than a seasoned crew could ever drink. The greatest worry was that smugglers would likely ask for much higher prices than the Naathi, but Lord Buntley had been generous when he calculated our expenses.
The golden glow of early sunlight already shrouded the island when I gave the order to gather at the beach and return to the ship. Though I had heard tales about the peaceful ways of the natives, I hadn't expected such hospitality and I had barely noticed the passage of time. A part of me wished I could stay, see the splendor of Naath in bright daylight, but our hosts urged me to leave just before dawn. The butterflies would soon flutter, they said, and the risk for foreigners was too great. I promised to keep this superstition alive when I said my farewell. The rumors of the terrible fever were the island's only defense, and I didn't wish to see its natives threatened by invaders. And so we rowed our boats back to the Azure Tide while the eastern sun rose above Naath, a serene sightof exotic beauty we'd remember long after our departure.
﴾ _ ﴿
"Captain, please hurry, the men don't know what to do!" the voice of Dougal, my steward, jolted me out of my slumber. We were two days away from the Isle of Flies by my estimations, the sea had been calm since we departed from Naath, and I had therefore not expected any trouble or delays to our arrival. "It's Segan," Dougal went on, his voice trembling with panic. "Nobody dares approach him! He tore his cabin apart without warning, and his bunkmate barely got away unscatched!"
"Where is Gimor?" I sat up and rubbed my eyes while Dougal rushed over to bring me my boots and coat. "It's his duty to take care of disturbances while his captain gets some hard-earned sleep."
"I sent for him," Dougal assured me. "Though I don't believe he can help. He hasn't studied like you have, he wouldn't know what to do either," he then quickly added.
He was probably right, I realized while I put on my boots. Before his demotion, Gimor had spent eight years shipping cargo to the Summer Islands, followed by two years on ships sailing from Oldtown to Dorne. He hadn't seen as much of the world as he liked to think, and unusual situations out here might be well beyond his expertise.
Gimor was already waiting outside the barred door when Dougal led me to the cabin. He was engaged in a heated discussion with three other men, though I didn't hear what they were talking about. There were screams and moans coming from the other side of the door, taking turns with loud rumbling; perhaps furniture being knocked over or thrown. When Gimor spotted me, he quickly left the group and intercepted me a few steps down the hallway. "I warned you," he greeted me through gritted teeth. "You wouldn't listen, but I'll warn you again. And I hope and pray this time you will heed my advice." He made another step toward me, maybe to let me see the urgency in his eyes in the light cone of the dangling oil lamp, maybe to further block my way in the narrow path. "Don't open that door, captain. Leave it sealed, I beg you. We can't help this man, but we can try to contain the infection."
"What is wrong with Segan?" I certainly wouldn't make a decision without knowing what in the world was going on. "Are the supplies we bought on Naath spoiled? Do they carry any diseases?"
"It's not the supplies, captain." Gimor slightly shook his head and glanced over his shoulder, and I only noticed now how deadly pale my first mate was. "It is the Butterfly Fever. Three more men who went to the island are showing similar signs. Talhan, Bennard, and one of the ship boys." He nodded to the trio still standing by the barred door. "They reported it shortly before Segan's odd behavior drew attention, and fortunately had the wits to lock in their bunkmates as well."
For a long moment I only stared at him in confusion, but then I managed to gather my thoughts. "Are you certain it is not a common infection?" I inquired, trying to peer over his shoulder. "I agree that we should keep the infected confined, but I dislike the notion that there's nothing we can do."
"Segan is sweating blood and his skin is peeling off in large swaths," Gimor flatly gave back. "Have you ever heard of a common disease with such gruesome effects?" Taken aback by the candid description, I didn't answer and only shook my head. "If you allow me, I will proceed to scour the decks for other men who show signs of the early stages," Gimor continued. "We need to isolate anyone with a fever and strange spasms. If we act now, there might still be a chance to spare the rest of the crew."
"Go ahead," I said with a brief nod. "I'll expect to have a full report of your findings in the morning."
Relieved, Gimor acknowledged the order and hurried back to the three waiting men. "May the Mother have mercy on us," I heard him say before I, still shaken by the events, returned to my cabin.
﴾ _ ﴿
"A total of seven." Gimor paced up and down in front of my desk, never fully taking his reproachful glare off me. "Two have succumbed to the disease in the night and it seems unlikely the others will see the next morning."
"Is the infection contained then? I asked over the rim of my cup of sweet Naathi wine. "What further measures need to be taken to keep the crew safe?"
Gimor ceased his pacing and nodded with some hesitation. "All men have been accounted for and other than those seven, nobody showed signs of the affliction," he said. "Every suspicious behavior is to be reported at once, but for now there should be no more immediate danger." He lowered his eyes and finally stopped glaring at me. "I recommend keeping the cabins sealed off for at least two or three weeks. It is unknown if the blood contains any contagions, so we shouldn't take unneccessary risks before we clean the stains."
"Retrieve the dead bodies if you think it can be done safely," I gave back. "I'd rather give them a proper burial at sea, but if the risk is too great, leave them where they are. Then have the carpenters bar the doors." I finished my drink and got up from the chair. "Once this is done, we can put these unfortunate events behind us. The winds are favorable and should take us to the Isle of Flies within one or two days."
