Sammy was brought before the Hawk, who stood gazing out of a window overlooking the harbor. The hall was decorated in the style of George I, with a pronounced taste for French Rococo trends and furniture that would not have been out of place in St. James's Palace. The young woman was made to sit in a gilded brocade chair with curved legs. She squirmed in her seat, but the guards held her firmly.
"Where is Wilbur?" the Hawk asked in a deep voice, without turning.
"He stayed behind… searching for something in Balin's house," the sergeant answered, standing at attention.
The Hawk turned toward Sammy, took a few steps closer, and leaned slightly toward her.
"Well then, girl…" he said, his tone mixing curiosity with menace. "Where is your grandfather?"
Sammy lifted her chin, defying the governor's gaze.
"I don't know. I have no idea where he is," she replied firmly.
The Hawk let out a brief, dry chuckle.
"Really?" he scoffed. "And you don't know why he's accused of murder either?"
Sammy frowned, taken aback.
"Murder? What are you talking about? My grandfather would never do such a thing."
The governor let the silence stretch for a few seconds before continuing.
"Your grandfather isn't as innocent as you think. But…" He paused, as if savoring what he was about to say. "I am willing to pardon him if he cooperates with me. I need him to hand over certain highly important documents."
"Documents?" Sammy repeated, confused. "What documents?"
The Hawk took another step forward, leaning in just enough for Sammy to catch the scent of rum on his breath.
"The ones he mentions in his latest novel—a journal," he answered with a twisted smile.
"It's just fiction!" Sammy protested, stepping back.
"Fiction?" the Hawk retorted, his expression hardening. "Then why would a pirate from London demand a journal connected to those stories? I'm certain it exists."
Before Sammy could respond, Wilbur entered the hall, walking cautiously.
"Perhaps we're overreacting, Governor," he interjected, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture.
"It's possible the girl is telling the truth. Sometimes writers just make things up, don't they?"
The Hawk shot him a piercing glare.
"And what do you think, Wilbur, of the fact that this pirate risked his life for a supposedly fictional journal?" he said, emphasizing the word "fictional" with disdain. Then he turned to the guards. "Do any of you believe that?" he asked them.
The guards all shook their heads in unison. The Hawk planted himself before Sammy, arms crossed, trying to look intimidating.
"Do you know or don't you know where your grandfather is?" he demanded, his eyes cold and menacing.
Sammy met his gaze with indifference.
"No, and if I did, I wouldn't tell you," she answered.
The Hawk stared at her with disdain, while the soldiers nervously wiped their brows. A teenage girl was standing up to the former legendary corsair—the now all-powerful governor of Isla Negra Wilbur bit his lip nervously. Then, the Hawk turned away and addressed the soldiers.
"Lock her in the dungeons. If Balin Van Buuren doesn't show up by dawn, his granddaughter will be thrown from the walls," he declared before leaving the room.
The guards dragged Sammy toward the dungeons, while Wilbur remained frozen, watching in horror.
"WILBUR!" the Hawk's shout made him jump. The elf hurried to the governor's chambers.
"Shut the door," the Hawk ordered as he entered.
Wilbur obeyed, trembling, sensing something unusual in the governor's eyes.
"There's something I want to show you," the Hawk continued, opening a wooden chest. He pulled out some worn navigation charts and spread them across the table. "These charts…" he said, pointing to the characters on them, "no one has been able to decipher them."
Wilbur examined the charts, rubbing his chin.
"These symbols…" he murmured. "They're Elvish characters… Where did you get them?"
The Hawk walked over to a bookshelf where he kept bottles of wine, grabbed one, and poured himself a drink, downing it in one gulp, and started to explain.
"Many years ago, before I became a corsair in service of the king, I was a pirate raiding Spanish galleons. And one day, we attacked a ship sailing alone without any escort. It was a stroke of luck for us—it carried gold and silver, but it also carried documents. In a special cabin, there was a heavily secured chest, and it even sparked a revolt because it had special guards protecting it. After we defeated those scoundrels, we took the chest. It was a struggle to open—it had special locks—but when we finally did, instead of finding diamonds or rubies, we found these navigation charts."
"I recognize these symbols," Wilbur said. "But they're written in a ciphered form."
"We knew the journal was the key to deciphering the charts… but that's when Teddy the Cripple disappeared with it."
Wilbur looked at the Hawk, clearly impressed.
"Then we must find that journal," he said. "If, as Teddy told Balin, it's real, and as Balin describes it in the novel he wrote under a pseudonym, then that notebook is the key to understanding the navigation charts and leading us to the treasure described in the story."
"And what treasure is that?"asked Hawk, intrigued.
Wilbur cleared his throat and spoke in a low voice, as if not wanting the specters to hear:
"The Verbeck treasure."
Hawk narrowed his eyes, evaluating him.
"Then, we have to find the journal, Wilbur. And remember: the girl's time is running out," he said.
The Night Proclamation
The announcement echoed through the city's central square like thunder. A soldier rang a handbell in the middle of the plaza at the foot of Hawk's statue before reading the edict to the late-night crowd, who had gathered in confusion, while others peered through their windows. Some were fearful, and others speculated about the reason for such a proclamation. The soldier began to read from the scroll:
" By order of His Excellency, Governor Hawk, representative of His Majesty the King of England, the people of Tiburón Bay are hereby informed that Sammy Van Buuren, granddaughter of the outlaw Balin Van Buuren, will be executed at dawn unless he surrenders to the authorities. Anyone aiding in her hiding or escape, or that of her grandfather, will be executed. All citizens are required to report their whereabouts. Failure to do so will be severely punished."
A murmur spread through the crowd, quickly turning into a tumult of worried voices. At the Swan Pond Tavern, the air was lively, thick with the scent of rum and raucous conversation, but suddenly, the news spread, and many began to leave. Sally was tending the bar when she noticed the mood shift and even the place starting to empty.
"Martha, what's going on?" Sally asked, puzzled, while vigorously wiping a mug to fill it with beer.
"The governor made a proclamation,"the waitress answered.
"About what? And at this hour? Did the king die?"
The waitress shrugged just as Cody came running in.
"It's Sammy, they're going to execute her at dawn," he shouted, panting.
The mug slipped from Sally's hands, shattering against the floor.
"What?"she asked in disbelief.
"A Hawk's guard just announced it. They say it's because of her grandfather,"Cody continued, his face flushed from running.
"Her grandfather? That poor old man is a ruined writer. Does he owe them money?" Sally asked.
Cody shrugged.
"We can't let them execute her, If Balin doesn't turn up, that sociopath will do it without hesitation... We need a plan." she said firmly.
"Like what?,"Cody asked, nervous but willing.
Sally bit her lower lip, thinking. She grabbed the boy by the shirt and pulled him into the storeroom.
"Listen carefully, I'm going to give you a set of instructions that you must follow in secret".
Sally disappeared for a moment and returned with an old leather folder, unfolding a map.
"This is the fortress layout, and this is a secret tunnel to get inside. It will allow you to get Sammy out, but you must be very bold and not get caught," Sally started to explain.
"I understand, but how do you have this map?"Cody asked.
"I used it to raid the fortress when we took it from the Spanish over thirty years ago. So hurry, and once you're out, head to my ship."
Cody ran out of the tavern. Along the way, he ran into Pafi, another friend of them, who joined him after hearing the plan. Together, they made their way to the cliffs beneath the fortress.
Meanwhile, Wilbur descended into the dungeons. He walked silently through the arched stone corridor until he reached the cell door where Sammy sat against the stone wall. The elf discreetly called her to avoid drawing the guards' attention.
"What do you want now?" Sammy said disdainfully, seeing him peek through the small window.
"Listen, I'm trying to help you, do you recognize any of this?" Wilbur said, showing her the pages with elvish symbols.
Sammy looked at them, leaning closer to the window, but shook her head.
"I have no idea what they are,"Sammy answered.
"They're part of your grandfather's journal, which apparently holds the key to deciphering some navigation charts owned by Governor Hawk. These charts reveal the route to a great treasure... the treasure of Verbeck."
"Are you serious?... Mr. Wilbur,"Sammy said surprised. "my grandfather is a writer of pirate adventures. It's all fantasy… That novel was published under a pseudonym because his former publishing house no longer wanted to do business with him."
"If it were just fantasy, as Hawk said, why would a pirate bother to sail all the way from Europe to confront him about that journal? And if it were fantasy, why is Hawk after it? And if none of it were real, you wouldn't be in this filthy cell."
"I think you have a point there," Sammy admitted. "But I insist, my grandfather had no secrets from me."
"If you tell me where it is, I can save you," Wilbur insisted, leaning toward her.
"I already told you, I know nothing," Sammy replied sharply.
Wilbur sighed, frustrated, and shrugged.
"Well, I hope your grandfather turns up soon, for your sake," he said.
And with that, he turned and left. Sammy began shouting for help, though, of course, no one would hear her.