His father was sick, and every day he knew it was possible he could die, and to top it off, he had to carry the weight of his father's entire duchy on his back-
and it was breaking him, wearing him down like a work horse as ties with other duchies still needed patching, and then he received the news that pirates had attacked, sinking one of the Allarrian duchy's most prestigious of ships. His father, naturally, was getting worse by the day, but his duty was to his country, he was bred for this-
and so he went to the Port city of Amiss, which was just south of the Capital of Allar (which was doubly named Allar, or known to some as Allar City, or the City of Allar, so as not to confuse).
Naturally, he came with an entourage, for what Duke to be would travel, unprotected? Especially when such villainous men were afoot. The name of the pirate ship was muddled when he found those whom he sought inquiry, some said it was the Black Fish pirates, while others claimed it was that newer ship, the dove. Calent didn't care either way about it, but these pirates had been grating on his nerves for the past several years and they had to be stopped.
He commanded to see the wreckage, and was soon brought down to the docks, where a thick fog was rolling in, stifling his view of the water and forcing him to get as near as he could. Ocean waters lapped at his oil slicked boots as he took note of the bobbing pieces of wood and debris that had once been The Pioneer. The ship boasted to be unsinkable, for it had the top most trained men in both combat and navigation of the ocean water ways. But there it was before him, and his boot lightly kicked a piece of the ship away.
"We've been scouting for survivors all day, Lord Allarrick. So far, not a soul has been found."
Calent grew quiet and pensive, green eyes scanning out across the grey waters and peering distantly through the fog. So there were no survivors, and his best ship was down. What was he to do now? He supposed he'd have to inform his adviser, but even as his mind wondered over his duty, he thought he spotted something- just out in the midst of the fog.
One of his men followed his gaze.
"Hey, look! A body!"
"Shall we get the boat? It's too far out for us to swim to."
"Hurry it up then men, it might be the Captain!"
And as his men were bustling about in hopes to procure the boat, Calent watched as the figure seemed to be floating away and all but disappearing into the fog.
He grew anxious. If that was a survivor, they only had so much time before the water would take them- and following to the direction where the body disappeared to, he noted the Northern Pier.
"The men are taking too long!" he growled, and took off from his men, despite their protests and found himself soon running down the pier. He had no idea what he planned to do, but he was known to be an excellent swimmer...
and if the body was near the edge of the pier, he could get to it far quicker than the men trying to haul in the boat over dry land.
So he ran, thoughts drifting to his future, his father and the idea of death, and the fear of it chilled him to his blood and carried him further, faster as his body cut through heavy blankets of fog. And when he reached the end of it, there lay the figure, seemingly still in the waters, and his breath caught in his throat- for his calculations had been correct and the body had drifted near the end of the pier, and he was so close to it he could identity it was a woman-
and before he thought of anything else, he dove straight into the sea.