[Current Balance: 11,930,536,225 R]
---SEPT 1, 1714---
Aboard La Providencia, William Penn sat at the small desk in his cabin, and the scratch of his quill was the only sound disturbing the gentle creak of the ship's timbers. The light from the lantern made unsteady shadows as he carefully wrote down his thoughts, feeling more and more angry inside.
'To those who still hold to the principles of Justice and Liberty,' he began, the words flowing with a practiced ease that belied the fire in his heart.
'The Crown of England, once a beacon, now casts a lengthening shadow of corruption across its lands and its people. The promises made by Queen Anne, assurances of fairness and consideration for the colonies, lie shattered under the heel of this new King, Georg Ludwig. He, a stranger to our ways and our struggles, has shown himself to be a ruler more interested in the iron grip of control than the welfare of his subjects. His tyranny is not yet overt, not in the grand pronouncements, but in the quiet betrayals, the deals struck in shadowed rooms with those who would see liberty extinguished, the Templar Order.
We have seen the Crown's hand in the Bristol affair, a tragedy born of greed and a callous disregard for human dignity. But this is not an isolated incident. For years, I have witnessed the rot spreading from London: unjust taxes, the suppression of dissenting voices, the manipulation of trade for the benefit of a select few, the casual breaking of treaties with those deemed 'lesser.' They speak of order, but it is the order of the master over the slave, the silence of the graveyard.
And yet, for all its bluster, this Crown is weak. It is overextended, its coffers drained by foreign wars and internal profligacy. Its authority rests on a foundation of fear and outdated loyalties, a foundation that is now cracking. The events in Bristol, the very fact that a single city can defy them so thoroughly, expose this weakness for all to see. They lash out with bounties and soldiers because they are afraid, because their control is slipping.
This letter, these words, are not merely a lament. They are a call to awareness, a spark I hope to fan into a flame. The Crown's arrogance will be its undoing. We must be ready to guide what comes next, to ensure that a new dawn of true liberty can rise from the ashes of this decaying empire.'
Penn paused, rereading the last lines. He dipped his quill again, adding a final, firm sentence: 'Their time is ending.'
He carefully blotted the ink, then folded the parchment, slipping it into a plain envelope. He sealed it with a drop of wax, pressing his simple signet into it. This letter wasn't for immediate dispatch. It was a weapon, to be held in reserve, to be deployed when the time was right.
Satisfied, he rose from his chair, stretching his limbs. The cabin felt stuffy. He decided that a breath of fresh air on deck was in order.
He unlatched his cabin door and stepped out into the narrow companionway. As he neared the hatch leading to the main deck, he saw Kassandra emerging from the great cabin she shared with Alaric. The morning sun from the window caught her hair, making it shine.
"Ah, Lady Kassandra," Penn smiled, offering a slight, respectful bow. "Good morning to you."
Kassandra nodded her head, a polite smile gracing her lips in return. "And to you as well, Mr. Penn."
"Has 'Laric returned yet, by chance?" the Quaker asked as they began to walk side-by-side towards the stairs leading up to the deck. The ship was quiet, most of the crew likely still asleep or occupied with morning duties.
"Not yet," Kassandra replied as a faint sigh escaped her. She looked out towards the horizon for a moment. "Maybe tomorrow. He mentioned he would be gone for about two weeks."
"Ah, I see," Penn nodded understandingly. He hesitated for a moment, then, his curiosity getting the better of him, he continued, "If you don't mind my asking, Lady Kassandra… his methods of travel. They are… quite remarkable. One moment he is here, the next, gone, only to reappear elsewhere as if stepping through an unseen door."
Kassandra raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in her eyes, and paused at the bottom of the stairs. She turned her head slightly to look at him. "Care to elaborate, Mr. Penn?"
"Well," Penn began, choosing his words carefully, always mindful of being polite. "It's just that he seems to traverse great distances in no time at all. Like when he brought me in this ship from London, or even his sudden arrivals. Is it a form of… advanced seamanship I am unfamiliar with, or perhaps something… else?"
Kassandra gave a small, enigmatic smile. "To be honest, Mr. Penn, I do not fully understand it myself. It is one of Alaric's many unique abilities. I haven't truly pressed him for the precise mechanics of it." She shrugged lightly. "The results are plain to see, but the 'how' is his secret, I suppose. Much like how Alaric reversed your age, or how he heals so quickly. Only he can truly explain such things."
"Well, I'll tell you if you want…"
The voice, calm and familiar, seemed to materialize out of the air itself. Both Kassandra and William Penn startled, turning sharply towards the sound. And there he was, Alaric, leaning casually against the frame of the hatchway at the top of the stairs, a freshly lit cigar between his fingers, and a plume of smoke curling upwards. He had a relaxed grin on his face.
"Sup?" Alaric said, taking a drag from his cigar before pushing himself off the frame and starting to walk down the few steps towards them.
They were surprised, of course, but having experienced Alaric's teleportation firsthand on a few occasions, the shock wasn't as profound as it might have been for others.
William Penn chuckled, a slightly bewildered but pleased expression on his face. He scratched the back of his neck. "Hey, lad. Goodness, how do you keep doing that? One moment the ship is quiet, the next you simply… appear."
Alaric took another puff of his cigar. Before he could answer, Kassandra walked up to him, stood on her tiptoes, and gave him a warm smooch on the cheek. He smiled at her.
"Follow me," Alaric said, his grin widening a bit as he gestured back towards the great cabin. "If you've got questions, might as well answer them properly."
Penn and Kassandra exchanged a quick glance, then nodded and followed Alaric back towards the great cabin.
---
Inside the spacious great cabin of La Providencia, the gentle rocking of the ship was a soothing backdrop. Alaric and William Penn sat across from each other in comfortable wooden chairs, a small, polished table between them. Kassandra had taken a seat beside Alaric, with her relaxed posture.
On the table, three steaming cups of Alaric's signature 'Celestial Tea' sent fragrant wisps into the air.
[Sage's Herbal Infusion Tea (Brewed) - 1 R]
[Quantity: 3x]
[Total Deduction: 3 R]
[Current Balance: 11,930,536,222 R]
"So," Alaric began, taking a sip of his tea. "You're curious about how I pop around, Penn? And maybe a few other things?"
Penn nodded, his gaze earnest. "Indeed, 'Laric. It's… unlike anything I've ever witnessed or heard of. The speed, the… effortlessness of it. And Kassandra mentioned your ability to reverse age, which, frankly, I am still trying to comprehend, given my own renewed vigor."
Alaric chuckled. "Fair enough. Let's start with the travel. It's not exactly like stepping through a door, but close."
He leaned forward and placed his palm flat on the coffee table. A faint, intricate pattern of glowing blue lines, almost like a complex tattoo, briefly shimmered on the wood's surface under his hand before vanishing. "See that? It's a kind of… marker. A seal. Once I've placed one of these somewhere, I can travel to it pretty much instantly, doesn't matter if I'm across the street or on the other side of the planet."
Penn's eyes widened considerably. "A marker? But… how does that function? What allows such a thing?"
Alaric sighed, running a hand through his blond hair. This was the tricky part, explaining without really explaining. "Honestly, Mr. Penn, I don't have all the answers myself. One day, I just… started having these visions, these understandings of how to do certain things. Like I woke up knowing a new language. This travel, the markers, it was part of that. It just… works." He shrugged, a picture of nonchalance.
"And giving strength to people? Or what you did for me?" Penn pressed, his curiosity clearly piqued.
"Related to the markers, in a way," Alaric said, tapping the table where the shimmering lines had appeared. "These seals, they're made up of a lot of layers of something I call 'fuinjutsu.' Think of it as a very advanced form of… inscription, or enchantment, if you like. I can use these fuinjutsu principles to, well, channel certain energies, reinforce things, or even encourage the body to… rejuvenate itself, like with your age." He kept it vague, focusing on the 'seal' aspect.
Kassandra, who had been listening quietly, suddenly tilted her head. "Aletheia is asking… what is 'fuinjutsu'?"
Alaric smirked. "Tell her it's an ability that allows me to seal things. Not just seal, but also to manipulate matter and objects, and to some extent, even concepts like time and space."
Kassandra relayed this, then her expression shifted slightly. "She says… manipulating time and space is an exceedingly complex undertaking, even for her people."
William Penn looked from Alaric to Kassandra, then back again, a bewildered expression on his face. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt," he said, his voice hesitant. "But… who is Aletheia?"
Alaric glanced at Kassandra with a silent question in his eyes. Kassandra considered for a moment, then, with a subtle movement of her hand, the Staff of Hermes Trismegistus materialized in her grip, its metallic surface gleaming faintly in the cabin light. It hadn't been there a second before.
Penn gasped, his eyes bolting wide, and he physically recoiled in his chair. "Heavens above! A-Are you both… sorcerers? Is that a wizard's staff? Or… or are you a witch?" His voice was a mixture of awe and genuine alarm.
Alaric couldn't help but chuckle at the Quaker's reaction. "Relax, Mr. Penn. Nothing quite so dramatic, I assure you." He gestured towards the staff in Kassandra's hand. "Why don't we just touch the staff, mate? Might be easier than me trying to explain."
William Penn stared at Alaric, then at the ornate, ancient-looking staff in Kassandra's hand. He swallowed hard, his gaze darting between the two of them. After a moment of clear internal debate, he slowly nodded his head. "Very well."
Kassandra extended the staff slightly. Alaric reached out and placed his hand on it, then gestured for Penn to do the same. With a deep breath, Penn reached out a slightly trembling hand and touched the cool metal.
As soon as all three of them made contact, the air in front of them shimmered. Lines of faint, golden light coalesced, forming into the distinct, holographic figure of a woman, regal and ancient, her eyes seeming to hold an eternity of knowledge.
"Greetings," the hologram spoke, her voice resonating with a calm, otherworldly authority. "I am Aletheia."
Penn's jaw dropped.
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