On the 23rd of Daedalan, 534 years after the fall of the Seleucarian
Empire, I stood behind the wheel of a vessel, and before me, the
wreckage of The Shadow of Natures Curse plunged to the bottom of the
Sefyric Ocean. I listened to the helpless screams of her captain and
crew as they abandoned ship, I watched the hull shatter and break apart
like so much kindling, I saw the mainmast reaching futilely skyward like
the hand of a drowning man helpless for purchase as it sunk ever lower.
The last glimpse of the still-burning sails before they slipped below
the surface resembled to me nothing so much as the white flag of
surrender - now tattered, tainted by smoke and fire, useless.

I knew I had found my calling.

On the 11th of Aeguary of this year, over a century later, I stood
behind the wheel yet again, and before me, the wreckage of The
Wanderer`s Flame met the same fate: abandoned, burning, broken. Why does
this windcutter warrant special note? Because she was the hundred and
fiftieth ship to sink before me, the hundred fiftieth notch on my belt,
the hundred and fiftieth voice to add to the chorus that declares me,
Kinilan Demaxx, the true son of Caspian.

And despite having triumphed so greatly, despite having proven that I am
unstoppable...

Still, the call is strong and clarion clear - and still, I shall answer.

I have sailed beneath the flags of many, and of none. I have commanded
navies, and I have acted as a pirate and privateer. I have commanded a
crew, and I have manned deck and helm with naught to follow orders. I
have felled Mariners and seamonsters, Nerai and Kashari alike. And
still, I sail on.

Dare you cast off, Sapients? Dare you pull your ships from
the safety of the harbour and set sail upon my seas?
Dare you challenge my claim as rightful heir? I urge you to do so.

I still have room on my belt.

Kinilan Demaxx, Captain

Penned by my hand on the 21st of Aeguary, in the year 669 AF.