William paused to dip the quill into the inkbottle and leaned back into the plain wooden chair. It had been a long night and he had the uncanny feeling it was just beginning. The past weeks had been a flurry of ups and downs. He found himself wishing for the simpler times aboard the "Emerald Daughter". He had been a far less complicated man then, he imagined. Fewer responsibilities had weighed upon his soul. He had his memories and his crewmates, nothing more.

Now, William had a ship of his own. He had friends that needed him and people that depended on him. He cracked a wry grin as he thought of the last year of his life; the running battle across more of Theah than he ever imagined himself seeing. He thought of the friends gained and his smile faded as he remembered the friends he had lost.

"I have done more and survived more than any one man has a right to..." he whispered. Staring again at the stained pages of his journal he again allowed the slimmest crack of a smile to spread across his weathered features. He joked out loud to no one in particular as he paused to thumb through its tattered pages, "At least I still have you, old friend. And what a story you have to tell!" He chuckled quietly at a joke that only he knew and picked up the quill to continue.

Excited sounds of alarm on deck cut through William's brief reverie and he rose steadily to his feet. He was reaching for the door even as the first knock rang out. Opening it quickly, William was greeted by the flushed face of one his crew. "Cap'n sir," the man clipped in pigeon Avalon, "It's Miss Sabine, sir. She is on deck babbling about a murder, sir! A priest..." The worried crewman paused at the last word and William knew at once that the man's Castillian upbringing made even the thought of such a thing almost unspeakable. There was a brief moment as the man met William's eyes before he continued, "And the Queen's watch is scouring the dock, Cap'n..."

William was already putting his shoulder through the leather strap the held his mighty Highmarch claymore to his back. "Thank ye, lad, you've done well. Inform the boson to get the rest of the crew at their stations. Tell him we need to look sharp, and continue to load the cargo like nothing has happened. I will speak with the lass myself." As William McKormick rushed out of his cramped cabin, the journal sat forgotten. In his haste, it had fallen open to the first page....

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