Goldland

'I will guide them in the only right direction.' As both Captain and patriarch of the El Dorado, Goldland carries himself with an air of superiority—after all, the right direction is always within his telescope's view. Yet, despite his elegant manners and proper discourse, his words betray an unmistakable narcissism and pride.

However, Goldland seems deeper than his obvious shallowness. Does he ever look back with regrets at those choices, right and wrong? And those moments of weakness, which he couldn't reveal, did they weigh on him through sleepless nights?

Carrying everyone's lives on his shoulders, can he still press on? Will the dawn come after the bitter night?

The well-preserved ship's log chronicles every day of sailing since the El Dorado first set sail. Whether major events or minor occurrences, as long as it happened aboard the ship, Goldland recorded it all... or did he?

April 3rd, 1337. Clear. I, Kristoph Goldland, captain of the greatest ship in history—the El Dorado—am set to embark on her maiden voyage on this momentous day! One can scarcely imagine the splendor of the inaugural ceremony, but it was all worth it. This merchant vessel shall amass great wealth anew, and our first destination will be—the domain of the Landis! This affluent family will bring us our first great fortune.

—Excerpt from the Captain's Log of the El Dorado

February 3rd, 1339. Weather... Who knows—I've been trapped in my cabin, tormented by that little monster. It's all because Ami's nurse fell ill, leaving me with this monumental mess. The destructive power of a child this age is truly terrifying. For some reason, she's been crying all night, every night. Heavens, pray for that nurse's swift recovery. I'm nearing my wits' end. And William has sneaked away again, right when it's his turn to take over. Good grief!

But, I must admit, when she quiets down on the rare occasion, she resembles a little angel. As expected of the pure Landis bloodline. I hope she grows up well...

—Excerpt from the Captain's Log of the El Dorado

October 7th, 1354. Clear, perfect sunshine. Yet the air aboard feels heavier with each passing day. William—the root of it all—has turned into someone I scarcely recognize. He is no longer the person I once knew. Left with no other options, I've contacted Cain. I don't know if his solution will work, but I've no choice now but to try. I won't let William drag the whole crew under.

I pray the fabled Sunset Isle will truly hold the answers we seek. Let it not be the end of our voyage.

—The final entry in the Captain's Log of the El Dorado