Daring Do and the Shroud of the First King

The very next day, Dust was led on a grand tour of sorts around the University - Around the various halls, the lecture areas, the little passageways and antechambers - before ending her journey at the recently discovered, walled-off section of the basement. Found only one month before (therefore prompting the investigation which Dust now undertook,) the new section comprised a lower area which was constructed of a rougher, less finely-crafted stonework, a large hall space which contained massive stone pillars upon which were inscribed murals and names from the University’s history. Setting her hooves over the roughly-drilled opening into the ancient space, Dust gazed around as her tour guide raised his horn and shed magical light around the cavernous old hall. His name was Leafshine, and he was a scholar of history – specifically that of the University itself. He seemed perfectly pleasant to Dust, and the two were already getting along well as they shared stories of archeological discoveries and adventures.

'This area is rumoured to be more than a hundred years older than the rest of the University… Apparently it was constructed to house casks of beer for the town’s taverns by smugglers. That’s why the tunnel over there leads out into the sewer system, for travel.' Leafshine pointed a hoof, and the glare of his horn illuminated a roughly-hewn doorway which led down into the dark. The unclean water could be heard lapping at the sides of the sewer tunnel somewhere below.

'But what are all these pieces of art, then? Surely these aren’t that recent…' Dust concluded, looking up at the dark, grime-covered paintings and murals which adorned the pillars holding up the somewhat vaulted ceiling. Leafshine simply shrugged, staring all around.

'I suppose this chamber might be older than we though, and the smugglers might have simply stumbled across it when they were digging a tunnel to the surface from the sewers. Their plan may have originally been to dig up to another basement, but they accidentally strayed too far and dug up into this place.' Dust trotted over to one of the pillars, calling to Leaf. He illuminated it for her, so she could inspect the inscriptions further. Pulling a notebook from her saddlebag, she flipped through and took a closer look at the markings.

'It’s written in some kind of early Second Era text. Not too hard to crack, give me a moment.' And soon, the exact translation was reached with a satisfied nod from Dust. 'The texts on these pillars seem to document the time before the University’s construction… From what I can make out, this room was part of a small storage building. Apparently, the sewer beyond that tunnel over there was once a canal… As were the rest of the sewer tunnels under the city. Upon the university’s construction, this area was walled off as it connected the site to the illegal smuggling. I suppose the inscriptions were made here before the walling-off as a sort of explanation to future generations why the section of the basement was sealed off in the first place.' Dust then turned her attention to the roughly-cut doorway in the far wall, and toward the rotten stench of the sewer. 'I think we can safely assume that the thieves were not your average smugglers, though. I’m thinking this was all something to do with the Seabound – the assassin who killed King Nanewulf exited through here, and records show that they were under the employ of the Seabound… Perhaps even under the direct employ of their King.'

'But the Seabound disappeared completely during the Second Era, Miss Dust. However are we going to find them, if they were wiped off the maps during that time?' Leaf asked, an inquisitive expression etched on his face. Dust only gave a smug smile.

'I think I know how.'

The cold air blew all around as Dust and Leaf trotted cautiously down the cobbled backstreet toward the docks. Before them, on the downhill stretch, the housing became more ramshackle than inland; a few proud and ancient towers stood guard, while small, robust shacks and makeshift storehouses for fish were packed tightly together in a mishmash of corrugated metal, stone and wooden planks. Nestled among these low-built houses, perched on the pierhead, was a small tavern by the name of The Maneflow. Leaf stepped in slowly, followed by Dust. She cast a wary eye across the rowdy, packed interior, taking note of shifty-looking occupants and ushering Leaf onwards toward the bar. Tending bar in this establishment was an ancient-looking unicorn stallion with a nasty-looking scar running down over his muzzle. His mane was long, uncut and ragged, and he regarded the two new customers with a playful mock-scorn.

'So.. What’ve the waves chucked into my humble little place this time, eh?' He called in a thick sea-farer's drawl, motioning for the two to sit down. 'What’ll it be, kiddies? Milk, or water?' He chuckled a dry, raspy chuckle. Dust’s expression softened into one of mirth and she soon felt at ease with this old stallion, sitting at the stool before her. Leaf remained wary, eyes darting around, and then back to the barkeep. Dust turned a little, motioning for him to join her.

'Hey… This guy is okay. Don’t worry about him, just sit down.' She spoke softly. Leaf finally sat beside her, still a little shaken. Apparently, he’d never been in such a loud and dangerous tavern as this before.

'Your friend here is lookin’ a little pale, love.' The barkeep bellowed, turning around and grabbing a bottle and two glasses in the glowing red magical field emitted from his horn. He set the glasses down, pouring out what appeared – and smelled - to be something alcoholic. 'Here. Get this down you, lad. It’ll calm you. And you, girl. It’s on the house.' At this, Leaf nodded and took the glass in his own magical field, sipping at it. Dust politely declined, knowing better than to take drinks from absolute strangers. The old barkeep smirked. 'Smart lass, aren’t you? So, what’re you in for, then, if not a good drink?' Dust smiled warmly.

'I need information… And a ride.'

Dust and Leaf sat down opposite a lone old figure. Whoever this was, their head was hung low and only a scruffy, stringy brown mane protruded from beneath the brim of their downward-angled sailor’s cap. They were dressed in a ragged old mariner’s uniform.

'Muckboot? Mr Muckboot, sir… We need your help.' Dust called softly to the figure who was either sleeping or sobbing silently. Without movement came a reply.

'That’s Miss Muckboot to you.' Came a raspy female voice, and the mare’s head lifted. Muckboot reminded Dust of her old friend Cistern, had she been a naval officer - and cared not to cut her mane at all. Long, stringy brown strands of hair hung low across her face, parted only by her muzzle. If one were to concentrate, however, they might make out the aged but glimmering emerald eyes which stared out, sentry-like, from beneath. 'So what do you want with me, child? Come to poke fun at the crazy old sailor mare?' She barked.

'Not at all… We need your help, Miss Muckboot.' Dust asserted. Leaf nodded vigorously at her side. Somewhere beneath her mane, Muckboot’s eyebrow lifted a sliver. The old mare grabbed a bottle of ale in her hoof and took a hearty swig.

'How can I help, then?' She asked, word slurred a little, but a hint of genuine curiosity in her voice.

'We’ve been told you know something about the Seabound…' Leaf began.

'Seabound?' Muckboot piped up, leaning closer. Her voice became a low, conspiratorial whisper 'I know all sorts about them. All sorts, yes...'

'Can you tell us where they disappeared to, Miss?' Dust queried. 'The Seabound disappeared completely in the Second Era, they’ve never been-' In a sudden, unexpected movement, Muckboot pounced forward, grabbing Dust by the lapels of her coat and bringing their faces close together. Dust could smell the alcohol on the old mare’s breath.

'They never disappeared, child!' She hissed. 'They went home… Home, to the Isle…' Her weak voice tralied off into a coughing fit. Dust tried to move away, but the old mare’s gaze held her somehow. The brown locks had moved away slightly, and now those glittering green eyes held a sort of sway over her. Those eyes had seen something. Something terrible. 'The Isle of the Sunken… The Isle of the Damned… Isle of Bones, they call it, among a hundred other names in wand'ring tongues…' Muckboot continued on in her wandering way, but Dust cut her off.

'Can you get us there? Can you get us to the isle?' She asked, eyes wide and pleading. The old sailor-mare stared back, eyes wide with fear. But in a moment… She nodded.