Discovering The West, The Adventures of Akumjeli Yodit Sulaiman

[Nalibia]

 

Akumjeli Yodit Sulaiman squinted into the distance, the sun glaring off the vast expanse of water. "This isn't what I expected," he murmured to himself, his voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of waves against the bow of the ship. The maps back in Nur had shown a narrow sea, easily crossed by boat. Yet here he stood, the horizon a smudge of blue and white, hinting at a vastness that seemed to stretch forever.

The vessel beneath his feet, the 'Maiden's Whisper', had borne him this far, its sturdy wooden hull creaking with each swell. The ship's name had been chosen by his late wife, a gentle reminder of her hope and belief in his quest for discovery. Akumjeli had always found solace in the ship's steadfastness, the way it sliced through the water like a knife through butter. Now, however, he questioned the wisdom of its name. The sea seemed to have forgotten the whispers of maidens and instead spoke in a language of endless riddles and unyielding silence.

He tightened his grip on the leather-bound journal that hung from his belt. His mission, bestowed upon him by the Priesthood of Nalibia, was to explore and map the lands beyond the known world. Akumjeli had dreamed of this adventure since he was a child, poring over the faded charts of his ancestors who had sailed the same waters, their names etched in history for their daring voyages.

The crew, mostly seasoned sailors from the coastal cities of Nur, exchanged nervous glances as the ship ventured deeper into the uncharted sea. They had grown accustomed to the familiar landmarks and predictable currents of their own waters, but this was a realm of myth and legend to them. Akumjeli knew he had to be the beacon of confidence, the steady hand that would guide them through this uncertainty.

He approached the helmsman, a gruff man named Hakim with a face weathered by salt and sun. "Keep us on course," he said firmly, his voice carrying the authority of his royal decree. "We will find land, and when we do, we will return as heros." Hakim nodded, his grip tightening on the polished wooden wheel. The ship sliced through the waves, driven by the wind that seemed to whisper secrets of the lands they sought.

Days stretched into weeks, and the monotony of the sea began to wear on the crew's spirits. Akumjeli filled his journal with observations of the sea creatures that followed them, the patterns of the stars that wheeled overhead, and the changing moods of the men around him. They grew restless, their whispers of doubt and fear swirling like the sea spray around the ship.

One evening, as the sun painted the sky with a fiery farewell, Akumjeli called the crew to gather around the map table. He unfurled the parchment, revealing a section that lay beyond the known territories. "Men," he began, his eyes scanning the weary faces before him, "our destination is not just a land of gold and spices. It is a place of knowledge, a new horizon for our people to exchange knowledge and establish trade."

A murmur of excitement rippled through the group. They had heard tales of distant lands, but never had they been so close to the edge of the world. Akumjeli's words brought a spark of hope to their eyes, a reminder of why they had left the comforts of home, and the embrace of loved ones.