14xx/09/25 Johannes Calendar

155 days since arrival…

Fucking finally.

My heart was about to burst when I saw the speck of land on the horizon. I try to stifle my expectation, but to no avail. After months on the fucking ship, I was more than happy to feel dry land under my boot. But I was smart. I didn't get excited, didn't say something stupid like "we're so close now, nothing bad will happen" or "Man, I can't wait to actually walk on land!"

Call me paranoid, but cosmic powers like to fuck around when someone is at home stretch. Read Sinbad the Sailor, you'll know what I meant.

So in order for me to not jinx myself, I meditated. I didn't write, didn't join the festivities, just meditated. Day in, day out. Night and day hold no meaning to me, nor does boredom and emotions hold sway in my thoughts. I cannot afford to fuck shit up this close.

When the ship finally reached the port, I did everything I could to not run across the gangway and kiss the stone floor. When I see the bustling port market and the many ships parked at the side, I did my best not to laugh in joy. When the clamouring of the city reaches my ears, I suppressed my instinct to smile.

Slowly I walked across the gangway, making sure my steps are steady and calculated. Then, my foot made contact with solid land. Then, another. My heart soared to unknown height; my body felt light as a feather. I punched the air with both of my hands in elation. I made it. I am here, safe and sound. No more being tossed around in the sea like a ragdoll. This is where I belong; on blessed solid ground.

The Captain wasted no time unloading the cargo on shore. Unlike us landlubbers, he was casual as fuck, even has the guts to eat an apple bought from a hawker. He laughed at the rest of my team as they groggily get themselves ashore. Unlike me, they fared worse from the long voyage we took. Jet lag at its worst.

Port Natalia were a major landing zone into the continent, so it's status as a major port was reflected by the scale of the city itself. The little port town was made mostly from white concrete and almost every window has glass pane attached to it. You may think it was not that important, but the world I am now was a mix between the fantasy Middle Age and the classical romantic Renaissance era. Back then glass was considered as a precious as silver and only the wealthy can have glass pane on their window. Hell, back then the nobles would bring their glass window along when they move house! Glass back then is our equivalent of a branded overpriced handbag, useful for one reason only but was bought primarily for status. To have everybody have glass pane in their house speaks volume of the economy of this port.

The town main square has a single statue of Ilias masterfully crafted from marble atop a ground platform with two street lamps to illuminate the figure. I always wondered why does Ilias have a fondness of baring her chest and ass right out in the open like she was a common whore. A proper god would have some dignity at least.

The statue act as the centre point of the town as well as marker for travellers around. Situated just beside the busy port, the main square was always bustling with life as the locals carry fresh produce toward their roadside stalls and shops

The area where we docked was cordoned off by a group of laborers, soldiers, and officials in blue dress shirt with gold trims common among the priesthood of Ilias. There were also a few witches as well, clad in revealing aquamarine dress with red accents. From the mass came two women; one is a tall, fair-skinned witch with platinum white hair tied in a neat ponytail who examined me with her green eyes full of curiosity and lust. Her tightfitting jet-black dress hides her hourglass figure like a thin curtain against the morning sunrise. She carried an ornate silver staff tipped with a large blue gemstone. She studied me with an amused gaze, as if judging me for covering up so much of my skin with strange garment.

The other one was a stark contrast to her partner. Thin, petite and hunched, that's the first three adjective that described the poor waif that started the conversation with the Captain. Unlike her partner, she wore a conservative blue dress that reveals nothing. Looking at her closely, her resemblance to the Captain was astonishing; her Navy Blue hair done in a bun, her tired cobalt eyes adorned with wire glasses, her incredibly pale skin.

While the secretary was talking to the Captain, the seductive witch were far more interested in my rifle than I was comfortable with. The aroma of magic from Sophie must've been truly unique if she was the first one whom commented upon it. Our little discussion were unfortunately cut short as she performed her duties by inspecting her fellow Gaia's Servants.

My duty of course, is to oversee the unloading process of the Makinas, ensuring that the boxes doesn't break during the travel. Styrofoam and convenient air-bubble technology isn't within their grasp, so they have to make do with a peculiarly crude method; the Makinas are placed inside a gunny sack filled with cotton bale and then secured safely within a sturdy wooden crate which of course, filled with more straw.

The crates then were loaded to a private warehouse guarded by royal marines. It wasn't really conspicuous, but when you put dozens of armed men outside a simple brick warehouse, people will assume that good shits are stored there. The warehouse has good ventilation system, so I wasn't being slow-cooked like a roast turkey while I was inspecting the loot.

It took me an entire day, just checking all the Makinas for any defects. We did survive plenty of storms before, so I am more than pleased to see that not one has suffered any major damage. Some were scratched, even lesser of them has dents. So what? It's a miracle that they survived with only cosmetic damage!

The security of the warehouse is what I call adequate. The crates are stacked in heavy-duty metal shelves and covered in tarp, and the entrance was locked with an imposing padlock. Guards in steel armour patrolled around the warehouse behind the wooden walls surrounding the warehouse. They even have a bell system rigged at the guard post nearby that would alert the local constabulary in case of an attack.

It's just…I was used to higher security than this. Even with the nasty rumours surrounding Makinas, some people would be crazy enough to go and have a go at it. Humans are foolish creature after all. I brought my concern to the young secretary that was following me and the Captain like a hawk, but they waved it off. Fine by me. If somebody come and rob them, I reserve the right to say the phrase.

After that, me and the rest of the crew was escorted to the local 4-star hotel called the Fisherman's Wife. Nothing of it seems out of the ordinary, except for the statue of a mermaid hugging a man platonically. I was more surprised that the statue wasn't fucking. Even the statues of Ilias commonly have her left tits hanging out in the open.

The outside isn't as grandiose as the inside. While luxurious design tends to blur together (Again, I'm not a fucking architect), I can discern a few unique aspects of the reception area that provided clues to what kind of hotel I was in. For starters, the colour scheme was blue and white, white dashes of gold and red in between the lines. Any kind of external decorations tend to follow the motif of sea; crashing waves, fishes, ships, even sailors and mermaids sometimes. Again, it felt like a modern hotel impersonating the feel of a medieval hotel.

The room is fine really. As expected of a 4-star hotel. I was happier to sleep in a proper bed and showers on solid ground instead of floundering about on the ship. Even Latina was able to fit in here, even with her equine form! I made sure that I'll sleep with my gun in hand though, a Monster Girl is still a Monster Girl.

So, this is it. Here I am. Port Natalia, at the tip of the Sentora Continent. Holy shit, I am scared. That gut feeling back at that ship, seeing that rabbit again, that pillar of light, that sudden strength…Paranoia is healthy in small sampling, but I felt like I was overdosing on them now!

There's two type of mastermind I've worked with before; the wannabe and the real deal. Wannabes who spout 'deep' one-liners and riddles are dime a dozen, and equally worthless in the end. The real deal on the other hand, were my clients. They sometimes talk in riddles just to fuck with me, but their words are their bond; if they say that your men are safe for two months, you bet your ass that they'll be safer than a fortress within those two months.

Considering that the White Rabbit has shades of my old client in her bikini, I'll assume that she worked just like them too; if she says that I will meet Hito in Chapter Two, I'll bet my cock and balls that I'll find his sorry ass when I hit Chapter Two. That's why I wasn't worried about him before I sailed here.

But I am now in Sentora. I have reached a whole new continent, with new people, custom and location so different from the first continent I found myself in. If there's any blatant trigger that I've reached Chapter Two, arriving to this brave new world should be the sign lit up with neon lights and dancing strippers!

And that scares the shit out of me.

If reaching this continent means entering Chapter Two, that means that anything goes now. She told me that I will find Hito in Chapter Two, but she never said anything about him being alive when I find him, or even in any good state! The only concrete evidence of his safety has been her words, which is now up to debate considering that I have reached the bloody continent!

The Captain told us beforehand that they will stay in the port for at least a week. That is good. Tomorrow I will take my time looking for him. Then, I will follow the Captain to San Ilia. If he was truly here, as the damned rabbit would attest to, high chances that he'll either be at the port waiting for rescue, or at some massive capital city.

Wish me luck journal.