2.1

The sea was violent and sickening for Petrus in the morning light as he tried to stear the ship clear of the last few miles of shoreline towards the safe harbour. It had been a truly tiresome night bound to the rudder in a hope to avoid being crushed against the sharp rocks lining all of the irish coastline. The cargo he and his small crew was delivering had to arrive before the night after tomorrow at the monestary in the center of Cork county. The heavy storm that had haunted them all the way from their waystop on the bristish islands had been truly relentless and had during the night finally torn several large rips in the sails. But Petrus figured that it actually might be for the best to let some wind storm through so the ship didn't tip and sink at the brute force of it.

Barely an hour later they managed to get in behind the wavebreakers of the small harbour and lower the remaining strips of sail. Some locals in small rowing boats came out to them and tugged them to the docks. Petrus was directed towards a small house at the center of the docks where he had to pay the tolls and make arrangements for the ship to be repaired during the time he delivered the large crates of goods to it's final destination. On the goods manifest he had been instructed to always them down as farming equipment but he knew this to be a blatant lie, who in his right mind would send farming equipment thousands of miles at great expense.
The harbour master seemed pleased with the arrangement after recieving a few extra coins so the crates could be loaded up on two carts, each with two largeset horses infront. These were no quick horses, but they sure seemed powerful.

Leaving the harbour behind he could se a new storm building up infront of him, up in the mountains.
- This truly must be cursed goods, he whispered to himself careful not to let anyone else hear him.