As I saw the walls of Palma, my heart was happy once again. We where home, and very glad about it. Though the Italians we stayed with where kindI missed our home, our families, our culture.

The pirates that had run us from the harbor would pay dearly for their treatchery to Majorca. I saw that in my fathers often kind gaze as he took in the tattered ports entry, broken and worn from its previous guest.

My brothers crystal eyes burned as well as he spoke with the captain who was guiding us in. The docks where quiet for the early morning, and I knew that then breathing in the silence that was the ocean, we had our work cut out for us.

But after a few days, the buzzing of the harbor is slowly regrowing. Kinsman return home with ships loaded, and hearts overflowing with glee. I am pleased by this and papa is too.

Merchants are also coming back, their wares as fantastico as ever. I cant help but watch and giggle as Aiden continues to march people into line as orderly as can be expected of an older brother. He is proudly standing by father as they address questions and towns people. Aiden, my darling brother, how you keep busy running too and fro between the mainlands and home. I often pray that the sea does not swallow as the air grows colder and the ocean, vicious...

But here I sit, as the workers begin for the harvest of Mondrago's vineyards outside fathers villa and pray once again, to see you home safely.