Oz: Ballad Of The Fallen Czar(Vol. 1)

7. 𝕿𝖗𝖔𝖌𝖆𝖗 𝕮𝖔𝖛𝖊

It took every inch of will in her body not to fall to the ground and plant kisses on the dirt. After days spent on the ocean, it was certainly a huge relief to finally step foot on land. Never fear the possibility of drowning every time the clouds turn gray. Despite Trogar Cove being a humble isle, it was a slice of tropical heaven that Dorothy never knew she had hoped for.

"Charming"

The word escaped her mouth as she placed a crateful of sugar at the docks. Her hands were sore, and her muscle ached. The crates were for sure heavy, but Dorothy still decided to lift some burden. A small, yet honest act of appreciation.

"What did I tell you about bringing the crates?" Edward called in a stern voice. He stood before the gangplank with his arms crossed. Naive to the unintentional flex of his muscle beneath the smooth linen shirt.

Dorothy merely rolled her eyes, before casting her gaze around the isle. The grasses were green and healthy, though, uncommon. She found that they grew in patches of varied sizes rather than coating the land in serene greenery. Emphasizing the beauty of the gleaming sand.

The houses were made of wood. Not particularly huts or cabins. But chalets. None of them were too large or too small. Enough would be precise. They were enough. Some of the buildings, she found, had peculiar architectures. Stacked upon each other, like a pile of wooden boards, planks, and nails. Most of them were made from parts of a shipwreck. She realized this as she stopped and scanned the bakery. Above it was a smooth wooden build for a roof. At first, she thought it was a dome. But as she stared longer, recognizing the moss that crept, the kelp that dried, and the barnacles that grow and stick on several crevices, she knew it was once a hull. A weird aesthetic. 

Dorothy made her way through town; Mary held her hand as Toto sat silently in the basket that hung around her arms.

"Why do they do... that?" Dorothy inquired, her voice growing careful and slow. The townspeople, dressed in their modest garments, would bow submissively as they walked by. Though, this was not the reason that make Dorothy curious. The girl knew they were bowing to Edward who strode behind them, showing their never-ending gratuity towards the man who had suffered so much for their freedom.

What makes her wonder, however, was that as they rise, they would shoot a skeptical gaze over her. Almost condescending in a frustratingly uncomfortable way. Whatever it was, she felt unwelcome. Mary stopped to look around, before realizing what Dorothy was talking about. "You must forgive them, Dorothy, these people, they are not always rude. Because of your- how do I put this- social standing, being royalty and all."

"What's wrong?" Toto butted.

"They were victims of tyranny and corruption, once. So, they created this stigma around royalty or leaders, so to speak. They believed that kings, queens, emperors, empresses, and so on are completely evil." Mary explained as they strode down the street. "But you shouldn't fear anything. These people may hold a stubborn hatred, but they do not believe in violence. They wouldn't hurt you."

Whatever the people had endured, it must have left a sort of imprint in their minds that brought them to create such an impression on Dorothy. Though, she could only nod in understanding and hope for them the best. It was not all that bad, she thought, at least some people bowed at her with gracious smiles. It reached a stage where a woman rushed to her and handed her a freshly baked delicacy from the bakery.

Dorothy sank her teeth into the hot, sugar-coated bun, and gasped at the goodness. She learned that the soft yet flavorful kaya, a coconut jam tasted like a blessing on her tongue.

Dorothy gave her basket to Mary before excusing herself and walking side-by-side with the captain. "Where are we heading, really?" she asked, biting down the last piece of bread. They had trailed through the orchard of coconut trees, and from there, Dorothy familiarized herself with the perimeter of the isle. She knew that Trogar Cove was larger than it perceives to be. Making it comfortable for the whole community to settle down and thrive.

Edward glanced at her at the tail of his eye, breathing the fresh tropical air through his nose. "My house, Miss. Gale."

"You have a house?" Dorothy naively sauntered. "Suppose a pirate's home is his ship?"

Yet, the man laughed. "Goodness, who told you that?"

"Well, I read an autobiography of a sailor, once,"

Edward shook his head with what was left of his chuckle, quickening his pace as Dorothy did so. "It's quite true, a pirate's home is his ship. I mean, I do spend most of my time on Black's Revenge, but that doesn't mean that I don't have a house. Suppose I wish to retire one day, I don't want to waste more of my time to go into all the trouble of buying or building a house at that moment."

Dorothy hummed in approval. It was a good point after all. "So, what do you call this house of yours?"

"Hmm?"

"Well, for example, I call my house, The Big Farm... because... we have a farm."

"I believe it does have a name," Edward answered, biting his lips, which somehow, made him more appealing than he already is. "It's called; 'Château De Courcillon.'"

Dorothy frowned despite the plastered smile on her face. "A château, Edward? You surprise me more and more... Though, who's Courcillon?"

"A grandfather of mine... If you could call him that." He replied before he was hit with a train of realization over his sentence. "I don't resent the blessed man, no. But he's Edward Blackwood's grandfather. Mind you, don't get your hopes high. It may be called a chateau, but it is just a wooden mansion. Courcillon was a pretentious aristocrat."

"Well, wouldn't that make Courcillon your great-grandfather? Since Edward Blackwood is your father, and all."

"Yeah, he is, sorry for being too indirect with my words." He apologized as he turned his head towards the girl. "After playing the role of my father for quite some time, I hardly remember that I'm not him from time to time. Guess that's the bane of a good actor." The last sentence earned him a chuckle.

Dorothy hiked up her skirt as they reached the steps that led towards the highland, where the wooden chateau, before a thriving flower garden, overlooked the town.

She looked around, not knowing where to rest her eyes on the clusters of beauty. The chateau, she found, was true to Edward's words. Not one, but still, a wooden building of total grandeur, as well, as minimalist. A two-story house, that spread vast rather than stood high. Painted immaculately in white, coating every wooden plank. The architecture was designed for the hot weather. Wide, arched windows and doorways for enough air to flow in, and the breeze to cool down. Vines crept across the walls, protecting them from the solar radiant heat. Groups of coconut trees were planted around the house, for their leaves provide shade. The colors were intentionally light, reflective towards the scorch of the sun.

"Captain, you've done yourself a resort" Toto perked his head up from the basket.