“Where to, Captain?” an older man, grey haired before his time and rather round at the waist but still spry, asked the much younger man standing in front of him.
Bent over his desk, long mousy hair half falling out of the plait he had put it in that morning, the man stared down at the map rolled out before him.
“The nearest port to Lillium is Saguaro’s Western port. Tell Hurley to set a course for it.”
“Aye, aye,” the old man nodded and left the cabin.
Morgan, the captain of the Lost Rose, sank down into his chair and pulled out a scroll from one of the drawers.
“We haven’t gone in search of treasure for a long while. The crew is getting bored,” he muttered to himself as he looked at the map of Saguaro’s known tomb locations. “Saguaro’s as good a place as any to find some.”
A few hours past quickly for him and, hearing the shout of “land ho”, he stood up and pulled his royal blue coat on over his white button up shirt. He pulled his belt securely around his waist and made sure that his sword was in its sheath.
Satisfied, he walked out into the early morning air.
The crew all said good morning in their own way as he looked out across the unusually calm ocean. ‘The daemon must be sleeping,’ he thought, remembering how his father would tell him about the tales the people of Saguaro had about the sea.
cheshireinunderland 