This is a fan translation of The Treasure of the Kapitana (Сокровище «Капудании») by the Russian science fiction and fantasy author Vladimir Vasilyev.
I claim no rights to the contents herein.
Chapter 2
Alexander Selinium, Prince Moreau, Londinium, winter of 864 (half a year earlier)
"Here it is, Your Majesty!"
With his usual solemnity, Lucius Miquela placed a waterproof leather case, of the kind used to transport important documents, onto the table.
The King nodded his head imperatively; one of the secretaries immediately opened the case and carefully pulled out an ancient map. A second secretary was standing next to him with a silver tray at the ready. Several moments later, the King was already examining the map.
The paper (assuming it really was paper) was sealed in a thick transparent material protecting it from the elements and careless handling. The image on the paper had also been made in the method of the ancients — incredibly clear and pleasing to the eye. Amazingly fine lines, saturated and deep colors…
The King spent a minute carefully studying the map and reading the text on the back.
The text had also been typed on one of the languages of the ancients, but, fortunately, it was one of those that survived to this day with few changes.
The King knew the language or, at least, was able to read it.
"Now I understand, Lucius, why you said that the task was only half-done."
"Indeed, Your Majesty. This is not the final map, just a map that indicates the location of the final map. Correct?"
"Looks that way. The ancients liked their ornate writing, but, thank the heavens, it is possible to understand them."
The King thought for a few minutes.
"Well… No one said this path would be easy or short. We shall be consistent."
He rose from the throne, which, to be honest, he disliked sitting on.
The King much rather enjoyed sitting by the window, at a huge desk; it was also where the King typically held council with his advisors. Five chairs were standing along the outer side of the desk in an even row.
That was where the King headed, while sending the servants and secretaries away with a gesture.
They left without complaint, firmly shutting the tall carved doors behind them. The King knew that at that very moment the halberds of the guards were being closing with a clang behind them, but the sound didn't penetrate into the throne room. The only people left in the room were the King himself, his eldest son, three advisors to the crown, and Lucius Miquela, the Minister of the Navy.
Sitting down in his preferred chair, the King looked out the window; a multilayered murder of crows was circling over the park.
"Sit!" the King commanded to those present, still staring out the window.
The King had aged a lot over the last several years. Unhealthy bags were present under his eyes, the bald spots had grown wider. And his walk… once it had been the proud gait of a lion, now it was the shuffling motion of an old man.
Time didn't spare even the chosen. The King of Albion had recently turned seventy-four.
"Speak, Lucius. You may drop the formalities." The King stared at the minister and added, "I've started valuing time greatly of late…"
"Yes, sire. I found the map exactly where the White Manuscript said it would be — an abandoned city on the northwestern coast of Iberia, almost at the border of Lusitania [Footnote 1]. The indicated house, a secret basement, a metal box in the wall. All the signs matched, and all the keys worked. The bombardiers spent four days trying to open the box before succeeding. However, as you were able to confirm yourself, the discovered map still doesn't show the place where the Kapitana sunk. Our path is now one step longer."
"What coast is portrayed on the map?"
"Unclear, sire. But I believe it's either the shores of the Euxine, which is most likely, Propontis [Footnote 2], or Maeotis. The possibilities of it being Hyrcania or Oxus [Footnote 3] should only be looked at if we find nothing in the first three."
"The Euxine… But why Euxine? There's an island at the very coast, and there are almost no islands in the Euxine, as far as I know."
"It's more of a rock than an island, sire. The Euxine is far larger than Propontis and Maeotis, none of the sailors truly knows its shores, except for the local barbarians. Maeotis has no rocky coasts at all; it has clay shores, beaches, and sandbars, especially in the straight leading to the Euxine. I have a general understanding of the shores of Propontis and do not recall any such places. Basically… First and foremost, I would search on the southern shores of the Euxine. Most importantly, the country whose flagship was the Kapitana was located to the south of the Euxine. As you know, this country was called Turkey. And the Kapitana most likely sunk at the northern shores of the Euxine, which the Turks often raided."
"But this," the King lifted the recently delivered map by a corner, "was found in northern Iberia! It's incredibly far from the Euxine!"
"Nothing odd about that," Lucius explained coolly. "According to the ancient chronicles, Bikshant Lero was a very careful man. It's perfectly in line with a truly careful man to hide the true map close to the place where it was found, draw another map, and bring it home. In that case, only someone who truly knows what he is searching for will be able to find the true map. If the map finds itself in someone else's hands, its new owner will immediately rush to find the treasure, not knowing that he actually needs to look for the map."
"Very well, let's say you've convinced me," the King said. "We can move on to the details. What do you suggest?"
"Your Majesty, I ask that you listen to my ideas to the end, no matter how absurd they may seem."
"Absurd?" the monarch raised his eyebrows inquisitively.
"Yes. I suggest that we ask the barbarians of the Euxine for assistance. Naturally, without explaining anything to them."
"Hmm… Can't we do it on our own?"
"We can. But you were just saying that you value time greatly. On our own, we may spend years searching for it. Meanwhile, the barbarian sailors know every inch of coastline in those parts. In addition, I have told you several times that sailing beyond the Bosporus is radically different from our ideas on sailing. That is why I am suggesting that we only send one ship. Have them find a pilot in Istanbul or, better yet, in Galita, Chersonesus [Footnote 4], or Kerkinitis. Have them describe what is shown on the map… even though I do not see harm in showing the barbarians the map itself. And then have the pilot take your servants there."
"You know?" the King drawled, not bothering to disguise his interest. "I like this idea, Lucius. It doesn't seem absurd to me at all. In fact, it seems to be bold within reason."
"You flatter me, sire."
"We should have Howard Freemer be the captain! He's definitely not going to say too much!" The King was getting inspired by the minister's plan more and more.
"Howard Freemer?" Advisor Chasse asked. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but your cousin is hardly known for his quick and sharp wit…"
"But he is known for the strength of his spirit, his immeasurable loyalty, and his skill in defeating enemies," the King said with authority. "As for the quickness of the wit, my cousin isn't really going to need it on this quest…"
"Then, sire," Crown Prince Eric offered insinuatingly, "we should send someone of royal blood with Uncle Howard."
The King threw a mocking glance at his son, "Trying to get one of your brothers out of the palace? Well, well…"
Eric took on the look of insulted innocence, "Sire, I am prepared to take part in this quest myself!"
The King snorted in annoyance, "You know perfectly well that I need you for the siege of Eboracum [Footnote 5] and will not send you anywhere! So, for heaven's sake, don't pretend to be a virgin, my son."
Prince Eric scowled and lowered his eyes. He always got angry when his simple plans were so easily exposed by others. And that happened a lot.
"Sire, maybe you really should send a younger prince with Howard Freemer," Advisor Chasse suggested carefully.
"George? But, again, I need him here! The lad is growing up to be a great strategist and the Eboracum revolt can serve as a good lesson for him—"
"Send Alexander, sire," Advisor Itkal said suddenly without lifting his head.
The King broke off. He didn't even care that the advisor had interrupted him — such a thing was permitted of late at the throne room desk in a small circle. It was just that the idea to send his youngest son hadn't even occurred to him due to its obvious absurdity.
The King of Albion had nine children: five daughters and four sons.
The sons were the forty-year-old Eric, thirty-seven-year-old Finneas, thirty-five-year-old George, and the rascal Alexander, who'd just recently turned twenty-eight.
The eldest son Eric was a decent general, but only at the tactical level. To be honest, he was slow-witted and sullen; the aging monarch definitely didn't see him as his successor to the throne of Albion.
Finneas was smarter and immeasurably cleverer than his brother. But the second oldest prince hadn't been able to avoid many of life's vices, having become cynical, envious, and angry over the years, especially after the King had made it clear that he was grooming George as his heir, contrary to the customs of succession.
George had every chance to become a brilliant ruler. He'd shown himself to be an excellent strategist during the brief war with the Tigonians, and in other times he often led the King to valuable thoughts and decisions in various situations and areas of knowledge, from economy to sociology. By and large George had only one thing working against him: he was younger than Eric and Finneas, who had no intention of letting him have the crown of Albion without a fight.
As for Alexander, he'd been the black sheep for decades. First of all, Queen Svenja had unfortunately died while giving birth to him, and the Queen had been beloved by the King and all of Albion. Albion no longer needed an heir by that point, but it did need a queen adored by the people, which was why everyone blamed Alexander for Svenja's death since he was a baby. Second, when the young princes often fought while screaming, "I'm going to be king!" "No, I will be king!" "Shut up you both, I will be king!", no one ever recalled Alexander taking part in those fights. The youngest prince always kept apart from his brothers. Third, he pointedly refused to study fencing, horse riding, and the military sciences. His favorite place became the library, and his favorite companion an old bookworm monk named Tolbus, whom everyone else called the Narrow-Eyed Druid. The King would sometimes go for weeks without seeing his youngest son. At the age of fifteen, Alexander publicly announced at Finneas's wedding that he had no desire to be king, even if none of his brothers were able to sit on the throne of Albion. At twenty-eight, he was still unmarried and did not show any visible interest in his female peers.
He regularly ignored balls and celebrations. When the King started suspecting something, he sent someone to covertly watch his good-for-nothing son; the suspicions turned out to be wrong: Alexander wasn't interested in young men either, but, with some relief, the King found out that his youngest son periodically went after pretty servant girls.
It's all right, the King thought, calming down. He'll get around to it. Finding a noblewoman stuck in maidenhood is easy enough, and any of them would jump at the chance to marry a prince.
So everyone simply gave up on Alexander. Even the suspicious brothers calmed down after a while, as the youngest prince really didn't pay any attention to the court intrigues and wasn't trying to lay a claim to anyone's privilege. It was as if he didn't even exist, barely bothering to show up to family celebrations. He lived like a recluse at the library tower, and everyone was all right with that.
That was why Advisor Itkal's suggestion had been so surprising to King Terence Moreau, as even he sometimes forgot that he actually had four sons rather than three.
In turn, Alexander was equally surprised when a messenger ran into the library and informed him that His Majesty wished to see his son. The youngest prince had long ago gotten used to his beneficial status of a hermit and hadn't seen his father for seven months, eleven with Finneas, and two-and-a-half years with Eric. Of all his relatives, he only conversed with George and their sister Flora, who was a little older than Alexander himself and the only sister to still be unmarried and living at the royal palace.
Alexander really was satisfied with his position and had no intention to be king under any circumstances. He'd realized at an early age that the path of power held no attraction to him; the path that did draw him in was knowledge. In Alexander's opinion, politics and palace squabbles were incredibly boring, but the mysteries of ancient books in various living and dead languages called out to him, stimulated his imagination, and produced thousands of new questions, the search for the answers to which was so sweet and exciting.
When the messenger disturbed Alexander, the hermit prince had been perusing an incredibly interesting tome called History of the Earth and Its Lifeforms [Footnote 6]. The book had been written by one of the ancients, which was why it only covered the period preceding the catastrophe and focused not on the events of the human world, but on the evolution of various living creatures, most of which had died out long before the ancient society was struck down by calamities that rolled it back several centuries into the New Middle Ages.
The term "New Middle Ages" had been coined by Alexander himself over a decade ago, earning him a memorable praise from his teacher.
The messenger was so insistent and reasonably harsh that Alexander got worried if something had happened. Despite his cool relationship with most of his kin (excluding George and Flora), the young prince didn't wish any member of his family ill.
He ended up having to set History of the Earth and Its Lifeforms aside.
Arriving to the throne room, Alexander found the King, all three advisors, his brother Eric, Uncle Freemer, and the naval minister Lucius Miquela.
"Your Majesty wished to see me?" Alexander inquired dryly after bowing.
"I did," the King grunted. "Greet the others."
Alexander bowed to those present.
My brother's getting heavier, he thought, throwing a quick glance in Eric's direction.
Lucius gave up his seat at the desk to Alexander, himself bringing a high-backed chair from the other corner of the room.
"My son, it's time to remember that you're a prince of the blood," the King said without the flowery introductions Alexander had been expecting. "You must serve Albion."
"Your Majesty, I thought we agreed: I don't get involved in politics or strive for power, and in return no one bothers me—"
"No one made any agreements with you," the King cut him off. "You were simply allowed to live as you like until now, no more than that. You will be thirty soon. Do you intend to spend the rest of your life sitting in a tower?"
"Not the worst way to spend the time, to be honest," Alexander noted with a weak shrug. "At least I don't mind it."
"I intend to send you on an important mission. Far away, to the outskirts of the empire…"
"The empire has fallen apart long ago, Your Majesty," Alexander said, not bothering to hide his bitterness. "Even Eboracum has rebelled; what is there to say about the remote outskirts?"
The King's face turned to stone, and Alexander thought he might have said too much. Unfortunately, things were exactly how he'd described them, but should he have said it aloud?
"Alexander!" the King's voice grew hard like crushed glass. "You will fulfil an important mission, no matter what! In one week, the Saint Aurelius under the command of my cousin Howard Freemer is going to sail south and then east. To the shores of the Euxine."
"The Euxine?" Alexander asked in amazement. "That far?"
The young prince then thought about his father's recent words regarding spending the rest of his life sitting in a tower. Alexander had read much about distant lands, while never actually seeing the real sea in person. The dormant desire to see the world with his own eyes suddenly awakened with an unexpected force.
Alexander Selinium slid the chair to the desk, leaned forward, placed his elbows on the green cloth, and exhaled, "Command, Your Majesty! I am prepared to serve Albion."
Of those present, the King's cousin Howard Freemer, a brave captain who'd seen dozens of seas and having crossed the Atlantic four times, also didn't know the details of the matter at hand.
"Everyone knows that the last several years have not been kind to Albion," the King began. "The treasury is almost empty…"
Naturally, Alexander thought in passing. The rebels of Eboracum have cut the capital off from the silver mines. The provinces haven't been paying taxes in a long time. Trade is withering away. How could the treasury possibly get filled? I'm afraid there's nothing to pay the army besieging Eboracum with anymore…
"…but we can solve all our problems in one go. Lucius, explain!"
The minister nodded and rose, "We have nearly found the place where an enormous ship of the ancients, loaded with gold and jewels, sunk. There, in the east, we need to find the precise map marking the place where it sunk. You, Prince, and you, Captain Freemer, will need to first find that map and then use it to find the sunken ship."
"Hold on," Alexander interrupted. "You found information on the Kapitana?"
Now it was time for the King, the advisors, and the minister to be amazed.
"You know the story of the Kapitana?" the King asked, leaning back in his chair with surprise.
"Your Majesty—"
"No formalities!"
"Father, sitting in a tower is far from the useless task you think it is."
"So what do you know?" the King asked, not bothering to disguise his interest.
"The Kapitana, the flagship of the Turkish navy… Turkey is an ancient country that was located south of the Euxine and east of the Propontis. The Kapitana sunk somewhere in the northern part of the Euxine, likely after a battle with the northerners. The Kapitana was transporting the entire treasury of the Turkish navy, down to the last coin. As far as I know, the ancients never found her in their heyday. Therefore, the treasure still lies at the bottom of the sea to this day."
"Hmm…" the King nodded his head approvingly. "I'm pleasantly surprised, my son! You haven't completely cut yourself off from the world. Yes, we did find some information on the Kapitana. In particular, we have a map of the area that marks the hiding place of a map that can be used to find the Kapitana herself. I give you two years. In two years… I hope that the rebellion in Eboracum will be put down by then, which means I will be able to put together a well-equipped squadron. The squadron will sail to the Bosporus and await you in Istanbul."
Footnotes
1) Lusitania was an ancient Iberian Roman province located in modern-day Portugal.
2) Propontis is the ancient Greek name for the Sea of Marmara.
3) Hyrcania and Oxys were the ancient Greek names for the Caspian Sea and the Amu Darya River, respectively.
4) Galita is an old name for the city of Yalta in Crimea. Chersonesus was an ancient Greek colony in Crimea, its ruins can be found in a suburb of Sevastopol.
5) Eboracum was a Roman city in Britannia that eventually became the modern-day York.
6) History of the Earth and Its Lifeforms is a biology text written by Russian paleontologist Kiril Yeskov in 2008.