Apex Sunburn

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Mentions: @Princess Edin

The guard commander snapped to a smart salute and turned back to Sjan-dehk. Furrowed brows and lips pressed together in a thin crack upon his stony visage loured at the Viserjantan captain. Whatever doubts and misgivings he had, however, remained unsaid. With a crisp wave of his hand, the rest of the guards took up positions on either side of Sjan-dehk. “Calmly now, stranger. Keep your hands by your side and no sudden moves.” He nodded to his guards and turned, leading the way towards the king.

It was all quite strange. Deep in his heart, Sjan-dehk knew he should feel intimidated – even cowed – by this display of power and authority. The amusement he felt came as a surprise even to him. Perhaps it was how unnecessarily careful the guard commander was behaving that did it. What could Sjan-dehk do to the king as an unarmed man? Saunter up to him and slowly beat the man to death while everyone patiently watched? Just the very thought was incredulous enough to make him want to laugh. Thankfully, he managed to keep it to just a flash of an impish smile.

“You worry too much. Too much stress. Not good for health, no?” Sjan-dehk said to the commander, voice light-hearted and kept low. The look the man shot over his shoulder told him that the advice was neither wanted nor welcome. Sjan-dehk merely shrugged in response. “Just advice. Captain to captain, yes?”

He kept quiet as they passed the princes. As the king drew nearer, Sjan-dehk became all too aware of his lack of preparation. If only he had committed more of the tutor’s script to memory. Though he had looked it once over before leaving his Sada Kurau, he now wondered just how much of it he could reproduce with both accuracy and the proper customs. Neither did he feel properly dressed. Much as he disliked wearing the overly-smooth silks and overly-decorated robes of courtly dress, they would certainly suit this situation better than his simple captain’s garb.

Well, it was all too late for that. Sjan-dehk would have to – like any good sailor – tack to the winds and turn to the waves as they came. He tugged on the thin scarf between his clothes and armour, pulling it up and tighter around his neck to straighten out the creases. Whatever laces and drawstrings that kept his attire on his person had been tucked somewhere secure when he first threw them on, but all the same he gave himself cursory glances and surreptitious pats to make sure. The least he could do before speaking to the king was to make himself look as neat as possible.

"Now give me your name and reason for appearing. I doubt you are here to seduce my sons and surely hope that's not the case. I will hear you out for a brief time. I am a very busy man!” The trailing laugh at the end aside, the king’s words were a touch stricter and harsher than before to Sjan-dehk’s ears. Not that it was unwarranted, of course. Sjan-dehk was likely interrupting something important and – as he had long ago learned the hard way – kings and queens were loath to have their schedules disrupted.

Even so, the king still had the politeness to end his words with a, “Thank you.”

Now it was up to Sjan-dehk to repay that little bit of courtesy with some of his own. Slowly, and using both hands, he pushed his hat up and back. It hung by its chin-straps on his back, and revealed his scarred and weather-beaten face. How was he supposed to act, again? The tutor had instructed him on certain actions and gestures, but those were for someone lesser than a king. Surely going through those motions in front of a king would be a mistake.

And so, Sjan-dehk simply did what he knew. He hadn’t met a monarch who didn’t enjoy seeing a display of humility and self-deprecation.

Sliding his left foot back, he dropped to a knee. At the same time, he brought his open left hand up to his chest. All the while, he kept his head bowed and eyes averted. It all felt so false and melodramatic, but a court demanded courtly things. For now, he was just an actor with a part to play. “Your grace,” he began even as his mind raced to recall the proper words. “This one…” What was that word again? “Apologises for…” If only he had practised a little more. “Interrupting court.”

He cleared his throat, bringing his left hand forward to meet his right above his head, directly between the king’s eyes and himself. The fingers and thumb of the latter wrapped around the base of the former’s thumb. “This one is Wasun Sjan-dehk. Captain of Sada Kurau and fourth lesser marquis of Jafi. Servant of Viserjanta and her most eminent and wise, High Queen Daraya, second of her name.” Sjan-dehk made a note to thank the tutor later; though his tongue tripped over a syllable here and there, the words were still flowing a lot smoother now that he had memories of the script to fall back upon. Of course, he was certain he had missed a word or two here and there, but the king was a busy man. Surely he would appreciate it if things were kept short and to-the-point.

“This one was sent with ships to your city to trade. We sailed for many weeks,” He continued. All he had to do was focus on recalling the script. Then he would be done here in a short order and back aboard his Sada Kurau. “But pirates attacked us days ago. Lady Adiyan, the–” he cleared his throat as he tried his damnedest to remember the specific word, but ultimately failed. “–one who speaks on such things, was injured in the fighting. This one apologises for her absence.”

After so many words, he could finally address his real reason for being here. “This one and Sada Kurau captured the pirate ship and crew. It was a damn good fight. Sada Kurau razed the bastard.” A little grin crept across his face as memories of the fight began to fill his mind; of the perfect stern rake they had inflicted on the Celestine; of the pirate’s confidence turning to dread; of the swelling ecstasy of victory filling him at the end.

Then his mind caught up with his mouth. Perhaps the words were flowing too smoothly. His cheeks heated up and he drew in a sharp breath. “...As this one’s crew say, your grace,” he quickly added, hoping the king wouldn't take too much offence by his brief slips of the tongue. In his mind, Sjan-dehk apologised to the tutor. Best he finished things up quickly lest he sabotage his own efforts thus far. “This one is here for two reasons, your grace. The prisoners are people of your grace’s land. This one would hand them to your grace’s court for…your grace to decide what to do with them.”

He paused to catch his breath and consider his next words. How best to offer a king the Celestine while also highlighting its dismal state? “This one also offers you the ship this one captured, your grace, but she is very badly…damaged, your grace. Her mast and stern, they are spoiled. Her hull has many holes. She needs a lot of repairs. But this one captured her in your waters. So this one must offer this ruined and…unworthy ship to your grace.” That was probably good enough. It had to be; he didn't know enough words to vocalise the rest of his thoughts.

Sjan-dehk let out a long breath at the end. That was enough polite and courtly speech and mannerisms to last him a good long while. Now he just had to hope the king was in enough of a rush to end this quickly.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Mentions: @Princess Edin and Albert Alfred Alden

‘To live humbly is to live harmoniously. To live harmoniously is to live virtuously.’

A great sage wrote those words a long time ago, with ink scratched upon bamboo strips long-since rotted away, in a kingdom long-since conquered, and for a royal family long-since extinguished. How that couplet survived the centuries was a mystery, but every Viserjantan noble knew it by heart and were expected by both peers and masses to uphold it in every aspect of their lives. As with all ancient wisdoms, every clan and family had their own ways of interpreting it. The Wasun of Jafi espoused the humility proselytised and took it – as some might say – quite far.

It was thus no surprise to Sjan-dehk that, upon stepping into the grandiose ballroom, he felt more than a twinge of discomfort tug at both heart and mind. Cavernous and opulent, it was the furthest thing from the austere and plain halls of his family. Walls and flooring of treated wood were the norm there, and whatever decorations that were allowed were of simple designs. Tried as he might, Sjan-dehk couldn’t help himself from looking at the walls and ceiling like some aimless and confused wayfarer. He kept a hand on the sling of his carbine, if only because he didn’t know what to do with it.

The moment he laid eyes on the people on the other end of the ballroom, he knew he should have waited outside instead of following the women in. An imposing – almost imperious – man sat on a lavish throne that was about as magnificent as the room itself. That had to be the king, and the elegantly dressed man beside him a likely advisor. Before them were three younger men. All well-groomed and regal as far as Sjan-dehk could tell, and all with the all-too-familiar aura of people far above him in terms of station. Those must be the sons Dev had mentioned earlier.

Women, princes, and a king. Sjan-dehk recognised a matchmaking session when he saw one. He did not belong here. Much as he wanted to resolve the issue of the Celestine and her former crew, he wasn’t as rash and foolhardy as to interrupt a royal affair.

Sjan-dehk stepped aside and allowed the women behind him to pass. It was too late to exit the room now; surely everyone present had seen him. Instead, he tried to slowly back his way towards a corner. Slowly and carefully, with no big movements to draw any further attention to himself. With enough luck, he could wait there until all was done. It was anyone’s guess how long that would take, but it was the polite thing to do. Hai-shuun would have to wait a little longer for further orders, but Sjan-dehk would rather try the man’s patience than risk sabotaging trade negotiations before they even began.

“You there!” The booming shout was accompanied by the slap of palms against wood.

Well, that was likely his shortest-lived idea. Sjan-dehk looking towards the throne. The king stood behind his sons, the combination of his stature and position giving him even more of a domineering presence. His eyes regarded Sjan-dehk with suspicion. Unwilling to show any cowardice, Sjan-dehk pushed up the brim of his hat and looked back. He was about to pay his respects and begin with his introductions when the king spoke once more.

“If you are here to speak to me, you will allow my guards to confiscate your weapons, for the time being, then let them escort you to speak to my advisor and I privately. If you are here to seek out my sons or intend to speak to me while armed, then you must leave.” Then, as if it were nothing more than a mere afterthought, he added, “And thank you.”

As it had been with the harbour master and the labourer, Sjan-dehk either didn’t understand or didn’t catch every one of the king’s words. Still, it was enough to discern two things. One, the two guards at the gate likely had a proper tongue-lashing to look forward to – if they could even keep their jobs – and two, the king seemed a reasonable and well-mannered man. Not many would have reacted as he had to an armed stranger in the presence of his family. He had even thanked him. Sure, it sounded like it had just been an act of courtesy, but that still said something about the man.

Yes, this was turning out better than Sjan-dehk had expected. Even if there was a contingent of armed and very cautious guards approaching him.

“Slowly, stranger,” one of them said carefully. Judging by how the other guards seemed to fall in a step or two behind him, Sjan-dehk assumed him to be their commander. “No sudden moves. Put whatever arms you have on your person on the floor. My men will take care of them.”

Sjan-dehk offered a friendly smile and slowly raised his hands in front of him, palms out. This all felt a little too familiar. He hoped it wouldn’t turn into a habit. “I mean no trouble,” he said, keeping his voice calm and level. As smooth as things were going, he wasn’t blind to the possibility of things taking an unpleasant turn simply because someone said or did something wrong. He made sure every guard could see him as he brought a hand to the strap of his carbine. “I am taking this off.” Sjan-dehk shifted his gaze between the armed men arrayed in front of him as he passed the thick strip of leather over his head. They bristled and gripped their weapons tightly, none taking a breath until the wooden stock of the carbine rested on the floor with a quiet clack.

Everything progressed a little quicker after that. Soon enough, Sjan-dehk had all of his weapons laid out on the floor in front of him. Ordered and neat, as if he were presenting them for inspection. “That’s all you have?” The commander asked. Sjan-dehk nodded and turned in a slow circle to show his empty holsters and scabbard frogs. That seemed to satisfy the man, and he gestured for two of his guards to collect the weapons.

“Careful,” Sjan-dehk said with a little grin that faded as quickly as it appeared. “They are loaded. Do not drop them. Would be dangerous.”

It was a half-truth at best. Yes, there was shot in the chamber and powder in the pan, but they were only half-cocked and so even an accidental misfire wouldn’t set them off. Sjan-dehk just wanted the guards to be careful while carrying them. The last thing he needed was a damaged spring or some other intricate part of the mechanism from being dropped. Mursi would never let him hear the end of it for a few days, at least. The two guards carrying his weapons nodded their understanding with nervous looks.

For his part, the guard commander didn’t seem too bothered by it. “Don’t worry, they’ll be stored in our armoury. No one will touch them until you return.” He nodded to the two guards who quickly scurried out of the ballroom with haste.

Now unburdened by his weapons, Sjan-dehk felt a lot lighter, but also a lot more exposed. He would have liked to keep at least one sword on his person, but arguing now would do little more than to prolong his time here. Besides, it wouldn’t make a lick of difference. Even if he were fully armed, it would take either a lot of luck or divine intervention for him to fight his way back to his ship if things turned ugly. Well, he did still have his fists and legs, even if he hadn’t done much unarmed combat in recent days–

He nipped that thought in the bud. What was he thinking? He was here as a noble, speaking to a king in peace. For now, he was Wasun Sjan-dehk the fourth lesser marquis of Jafi. Not captain Sjan-dehk of the Sada Kurau. Just thinking of it left a foul taste in his mouth – he far preferred the latter role – but such was the way of things. One either learned to adapt or learned to suffer, as some of the great sages of old would put so eloquently.

“All okay?” He asked.

The commander bit on his lip and looked Sjan-dehk up and down once before nodding. He waved for the guards to stand back before turning and looking to his king, awaiting his next orders.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Mentions: @Potter Layla @SausagePat Ruby @Rodiak Zarai

It had taken Sjan-dehk more time than he cared to admit, but he was here at last. The castle. At the very least, it was within sight. Grey stone and painted roofs reached for a sky of soft azure and clouds of pure white behind a beautifully-carved fountain and across a small plaza. As he had just found out, the walls that he had been following – and which had been mocking him – the entire time he had spent wandering around the city like a headless chicken weren’t the walls of the actual castle. They merely sequestered a quieter, smaller town away from the rest of Sorian.

The real castle was a little ways farther in. Thankfully, it was plainly visible from the arched gateway which Sjan-dehk had just walked through. He would have been sorely tempted to simply call it a day and return to his Sada Kurau had he simply left one maze for another.

Well, to be perfectly honest, the temptation was still there. Only the reason differed.

The castle town was quiet. Serene, peaceful, with only vague murmurs of activity drifting through the plaza from its orderly streets and well-kept boulevards. Lilting birdsong floated in from verdant trees. Whatever din Sjan-dehk had experienced in the slums may as well have been naught but a distant memory or hazy dream. Washed-out cobblestones tapped a steady beat against his boots with each step. The thin crowd of well-dressed and well-groomed people glanced in his direction as he passed. Most were curious, but he wasn’t oblivious to the guarded stares and suspicious gazes he received. Sjan-dehk simply tipped his hat towards those whose eyes he met and continued on his way.

One might be forgiven that he – casual and smooth as he carried himself – was fully at ease. That could not be farther from the truth.

Something about this place sat poorly with him. The tranquillity felt a little too oppressive; the orderliness a mite too unnatural; the cleanliness a touch too barren. As if the wall that separated the quarter from the rest of Sorian kept the city’s liveliness out as well. Sjan-dehk didn’t like it in the least. There was life here, of course, but nothing felt alive. That didn’t make as much sense as he hoped even to himself, but all he knew was that he wanted to spend as little time here as possible. Perhaps he was far too accustomed to the rowdier parts of a city. Even in his native Jafi, he spent most of his time ashore mucking about in the rougher quarters, much to his mother’s chagrin.

Or perhaps it was his natural aversion to stately affairs trying to concoct a reason for him to leave before he had to play the part of a noble before the city’s lord.

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. The tap of his boots against stones soon turned into dull thumps against wood as he crossed the drawbridge spanning the moat. A pair of guards stood a little too at ease beneath the massive gatehouse. They appeared to be too engrossed in their conversation to notice Sjan-dehk as he approached, but quickly sprang into action once they noticed him. Weapons and armour rattled and clanged against each other as they stood up straight. “Stop! Identify yourself!” One of them shouted with an outstretched hand.

Sjan-dehk had been prepared for this. If anything, he was surprised that he hadn’t been stopped by any guards earlier, armed and armoured as he was. Keeping his movements slow and deliberate, he raised his hands and presented two open palms to the guards. “I am Wasun Sjan-dehk of Viserjanta.” He kept his tone calm, looking at each guard in turn as he spoke. Clean-shaven and well-groomed, neither looked as if they were any older than himself. “I mean no trouble. I am here to speak with your lord.”

“Who of where?” the same guard asked, thin and pock-marked face scrunched in confusion.

The other guard spoke up. He was shorter than his partner, but with a stockier physique and a friendlier countenance. “Think I ‘eard that place in a book once.” He nodded towards Sjan-dehk. “‘Is people traded ‘ere years ago. Long ‘fore any of us were born.” Both Sjan-dehk and the other guard turned to look at him, and he merely offered a shrug in response. “I’ve been readin’. Guard commander always said we ‘ave to keep our wits about us, aye?”

“He looked pretty well-armed for a trader,” the thinner guard said and looked down his nose at Sjan-dehk with his dull, blue eyes. “What do you have on you? Two swords, two pistols, one musket? You look more like you’re here to kill our lord, not speak with him as you claim.”

“Four pistols,” Sjan-dehk corrected and turned slightly to show them the weapons on his back. “Also you are right. I am not a trader. I am the fourth lesser marquis of Jafi and captain of Sada Kurau. My ship. We docked at your harbour this morning.”

“I don’t know, Jas,” the shorter guard said. “‘E seems pretty honest. ‘Is rank sounds important too, what if ‘e’s another one of those late notice guests we don’t know about?”

Jas scowled. “Another one? At this time? They might as well let us go home.”

Despite the delay, Sjan-dehk found himself fighting back the urge to grin. There was comforting familiarity in hearing the banter between these two soldiers. Granted, had they been his crew, he would’ve likely told them to focus on their work by now, especially since these two had the rather important task of guarding the castle’s gates. However, Sjan-dehk wasn’t about to tell another commander how to do their job. He had his own matters to take care of, in any case. “If it would help, I can leave my weapons with you.”

For a moment, Jas seemed to consider the offer. Then he sighed. “Nah,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “The number of armed people I’ve let in these past two days, another one isn’t going to change a damn thing. Just watch yourself. If you do get an audience, that is. There’s some fancy nonsense going on that we’re not paid enough to understand. Ladies been coming non-stop. You’re the first man Dev here and I’ve seen this morning.”

“King’s tryin’ to get ‘is sons wives, is what I’ve ‘eard,” Dev said.

“King?” Sjan-dehk asked and furrowed his brow. That complicated things slightly. All this time, he had been preparing himself to speak to a duke or perhaps even archduke. A king felt far too important, far too powerful to be met with a lowly lesser marquis like Sjan-dehk. Perhaps he should have listened to the tutor after all, and learned to live with dressing in fine silks. For now, all he could do was just hope that this king wouldn’t be too put off by a soldier’s attire.

“Aye, King Edin runs this ‘ere place,” Dev replied. Shuffling a little closer and speaking in a lower voice, he continued, “Between you an’ me, I ‘aven’t ‘eard much good about ‘im–”

“Quiet!” Jas hissed and slapped his partner on the back, hard enough to almost send Dev flying forward and onto the bridge. “Are you trying to get us both kicked out of the guard or worse, killed?” He looked at Sjan-dehk and tilted his head towards the castle’s courtyard. “Don’t mind him. He’s just sharing some guardroom talk he really shouldn’t be sharing. Head on in and good luck with your audience.”

Sjan-dehk nodded his understanding. “We all have problems with our superiors,” he said with a knowing smirk as he passed the guards. There was some truth in that; while Sjan-dehk was strictly speaking the only noble on this expedition, he ultimately had to bow to the whims and requests of the various officials and bureaucrats aboard the Sudah. Except for the captain, of course. Sjan-dehk outranked him so long as they were on land, and that was perhaps one reason why that man had yet to even make his presence known to the local dockworkers.

As he crossed the courtyard, Sjan-dehk pushed whatever worries he had about meeting a king out of his mind. Duke, archduke, king, what did it matter? They all outranked a lesser marquis. This wasn’t anything Sjan-dehk had never done before. He just had to be polite and humble, and bite his tongue whenever he felt like saying something that shouldn’t be said in a courtly scenario. No one could expect anything more from him.

The doors to the entrance hall groaned as Sjan-dehk pushed them open. Immediately, he was struck by how packed the room was. Then, he noticed that they were all women. Surely the king and his sons didn’t intend to meet with every single last one of them? Sjan-dehk doubted there was enough daylight to give each lady a fair assessment. For a moment, he wondered if the local nobility practised concubinage as was the custom in Viserjanta until rather recently. Sjan-dehk’s high queen, Daraya the second, had made the practice illegal almost as soon as she ascended the Saffron Throne. In fact, one of Sjan-dehk’s last assignments before coming to Sorian had been to intercept ships transporting slaves meant for some depraved minor noble to build their own little harem.

Sjan-dehk hoped that wasn’t the case. Considering what he had done to the people he had caught plying such a sordid trade, it would make things awkward, to say the least.

Well, even if it was, what did it matter to him? This wasn’t Viserjanta. The locals here had their own laws and their own ways of doing things. It wasn’t Sjan-dehk’s place to judge whether it was right or wrong, and it certainly wasn’t something worth sticking his nose into. All he wanted to do was to offload his prisoners, figure out what to do with the rescued captives still aboard the Sudah, and more importantly, settle the fate of the Celestine once and for all. Nothing more.

“Excuse me.” He repeated that phrase, each time with a tip of his hat, as he gently made his way through the crowd to an emptier spot near the front of the room. Once again, he was all too aware of the strange looks he was getting, but this time he couldn’t in good faith fault anyone for it, for there were a number of women who caught his eye by their distinctiveness. There was the one in a wheelchair, who looked frail as she was bored; a white-haired girl with strikingly mis-matched eyes whose dress looked a touch less refined than the others, but then who was Sjan-dehk to say? In his yellow-and-white captain’s grab, and as well-armed and armoured as he was, he looked like he was ready to go to war at a moment’s notice.

His eyes lingered over the two women for a moment longer than he was comfortable with, and he quickly looked away to his destination. A relatively empty corner where he could lean against the wall. Opposite him was a dark lady, but it wasn’t her who drew his gaze. It was the deadly-looking snake sitting by her side. Now that was certainly something new, and Sjan-dehk wondered if her people tamed snakes as practice or if that one was just unique. He hoped it was the former, and that it was something that could be taught. The Viserjantan islands had no shortage of deadly constrictors and jungle vipers that would make excellent companions for the adventuring sort.

However, this was not the time for such conversations. He had a task to do. He simply hoped that the wait wouldn’t be too long.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Sweet vindication. Sjan-dehk could hardly think of a better way to start his sojourn in Sorian.

His first taste of a harbour in months went exactly as he had hoped. No stuffy official reception waiting for him, no rehearsed script to recite and best of all, no nobility to talk circles around him. Just an overworked and surly – rightfully so, Sjan-dehk would add – harbour master all too eager to move on with his mountain of duties once their terse negotiations over berths and payment concluded. The frazzled man had barely given what was likely the first Viserjantan to set foot in Sorian in decades a cursory look. Sjan-dehk was back on the water and aboard his Sada Kurau well before the hour was up.

That was fortunate for him but not so much for the royal tutor. The second thing Sjan-dehk did once he returned – the first was to change out of his garish clothes for his more comfortable usual attire – was to seek out the old man and throw a few teasing barbs and witticisms his way over his earlier fretting. To the tutor’s credit, he had taken it all in stride. Aside from a few grumbles and muted protests, he had offered few words in response. Neither did he seem too upset when he eventually left for the Sudah, even offering a few parting words of advice to Sjan-dehk, namely reminding the captain to keep up with his lessons in the local tongue.

Which was good; none of Sjan-dehk’s words carried any real malice. It was all just some good-natured fun before the hard graft that came with a ship in harbour. Careening a ship in shallow waters only allowed the crew to do so much. Most of the work that went into keeping a ship seaworthy could only be carried out whilst docked. For the Sada Kurau, that meant at least a few days of constant toil. Sjan-dehk liked to keep his ship ready for action at a moment’s notice.

And while the Celestine was under his care, that meant the same for her. Such was the reason Sjan-dehk and his carpenter found themselves in the bowels of their newly acquired prize.

“Careful, captain,” Hai-shuun said with a cough as he carefully stepped over a collapsed pillar. A loud thud echoed throughout the dark and cramped confines as the heavy broadsword sheathed on his hip crashed against the sodden wood. “Fuck!” Were it not for the speed with which he shot out a hand to steady himself against the hull, he would have surely fallen into the murky, ankle-high water. “Remind me again, captain, why must we be armed while on our prize?” He grumbled.

“You’re the one who wanted to put our prisoners to work, master Hai-shuun. If anything, I’m the one with the right to complain.” Sjan-dehk followed close behind. If the carpenter was having a hard time making his way through this mire with his one weapon, Sjan-dehk had it far worse with the veritable armoury he had on his person. Two swords and two pistols on his sides, two more across his front, and a further two on his lower back. All of them seemed to conspire to press against him in the most uncomfortable of ways as he squeezed his way through the narrow space. “This is a bloody foul place.”

It was. Stale and mouldy air hung like a thick blanket over the two men. Despite the scarves wrapped tightly around their mouths and noses, the vile stench of wet rot still managed to worm its way into their lungs. Heavy droplets dripping from the ceiling drummed an irregular rhythm against wood, water, and sometimes their heads. It was enough for Sjan-dehk to wish that he had worn his hat down here, its likely cumbersomeness be damned. Were it not for the lantern carried by Hai-shuun casting its flickering orange glow in a tight aura, they would have been in total darkness.

“Nothing a bit of cleaning up can’t fix, captain,” Hai-shuun called back. “My boys will have this place good as new by sundown, you can be sure of it.” He stopped at a thick pillar that had clearly seen far, far better days. An immense, pale fissure running along its length all but bisected it. Jagged gaps marked where great chunks had broken away. A maze of planks and sailcloth had been nailed and tied around the damages, but they were clearly fighting a losing battle. “Except for this, captain. This is what I wanted to show you.”

“The main mast.” Years of being a carpenter’s apprentice allowed Sjan-dehk to quickly recognise what he was looking at. That, and there was likely nothing else aboard a ship as small as the Celestine that called for such a strong and sturdy piece of wood.

“Yes, captain.” Hai-shuun gave it a few tentative pats. In the dim glow, Sjan-dehk swore he almost saw a flash of regret in the man’s bark-brown eyes. “Damn shame. It’s a fine piece of wood. Our gunners must have given it a good smashing on the gundeck and wrenched the whole damn thing hard enough to crack it down here. A few more hits like those and we would’ve dismasted her and taken half the hull with it.”

Sjan-dehk let out a low whistle and gave a slow nod of approval. “Dismasting a ship through her hull, who would’ve thought.” For a moment, his mind raced with the possibilities of such a tactic, but the moment passed as quickly as it started. There was a more pressing matter that needed his attention. He cleared his throat. “We’ll have to replace the whole thing, by the looks of it. That likely means new rigging and new stays as well. What’re the conditions of her sails?”

“Not a scratch, captain. She had them furled when we engaged her.”

That was one piece of good news, at least. “Excellent. What about her fore mast? Can’t imagine that one got away unscathed when we shot this one to splinters.”

Hai-shuun tilted his chin towards the bow. “I’ve already had a look, captain. A few knocks and scratches here and there, but nothing we can’t patch up. I’d reckon the main mast took and deflected whatever shots that would’ve struck the fore mast.”

More good news. They had taken prizes in worse conditions before. Far worse; some were little more than flotsam by the time they were towed into port. With those prizes, however, they had the option of keeping them, either to be refitted as a new addition to Jafi’s navy, or sold for scrap. Neither option was viable with the Celestine. Not without the possibility of causing unnecessary trouble, at least. “Think we can get these Sorian nobles to pay for a new mast?” He wondered with a mirthless chuckle.

Hai-shuun responded with one of his own. “Perhaps if we sent Avek. Man’s got a gifted tongue.”

Sjan-dehk sighed. “A shame we can’t.” He looked the damaged mast up and down. Certainly, it had to be replaced if the Celestine was to ever safely take to the seas under her own sails again. That meant finding the right wood, putting together the right crew, maybe even hiring a few extra hands, and then there was the additional costs of tackles and ropes for rigging and stays. No small expense, to be sure. Sjan-dehk would have happily footed the cost had it been certain that he would be able to keep her. As things stood, he still had to offer the ship to whoever it was that ruled this city as a sign of goodwill. A simple act of politeness, if nothing else, but still it meant that the Celestine could be out of his control by day’s end.

Of course, he could simply offer up a ruined ship and be done with it, but that simply wouldn’t do. If he had to present the Celestine to anyone, she would be as close to prime and pristine condition as possible. His honour as a captain demanded nothing less. Besides, even Sjan-dehk knew that offering what was little more than floating salvage to a foreign noble would be impolite at best. A perceived slight or even insult at worst. He groaned inwardly. Such matters of courtly decorum were far too complicated for his liking.

“How long would you need to fix this mess?” He asked and glanced at Hai-shuun.

The carpenter sucked on his lip and placed his hands on his hips. For a moment, he said nothing as he examined the damaged mast in detail with scrying eyes. “We can probably have this uprooted by nightfall if we work fast,” he began slowly, moving a hand to scratch his chin. “If we can find the wood to replace it by today, I can have my boys start shaping it tomorrow morning. Then we’ll have to put together a crew to raise it, and that should take us another day.” He paused and tapped his fingers against his thumb in sequence several times. “I could have this repaired in three, maybe four days. Five at most.”

Sjan-dehk nodded and folded his arms across his chest. Maybe there was a way out of this conundrum of his, after all. “Let’s get above decks, master Hai-shuun. I feel like we’re going to catch some strange new diseases breathing in this muck. Smells like bloody piss and shit down here.”

“Doesn’t taste too differently either, captain.”

“Yes, never remind me of that particular episode again,” Sjan-dehk said drily. He stepped aside as much as he could to allow Hai-shuun to pass, which meant it was still an uncomfortable squeeze made worse by the pistols across his chest. The carpenter led the way with his lantern through partially submerged wood and metal fittings. Their progress was as slow as it had been the first time they came through here, but eventually they reached the steep flight of stairs that brought them up through the gundeck and back into the refreshing coolness of the main deck. Sjan-dehk immediately pulled down his scarf to draw in a breath of fresh air and to bask in the warmth of the late morning sun.

A buzz of activity surrounded him as he made his way to the gangplank, where his hat was waiting leaning against the gunwale. All of Hai-shuun’s carpentry crew and some additional men from the Sada Kurau were hard at work restoring the Celestine. A few climbed up the lines to inspect yards and spars, most stayed in deck sawing and shaping wood, but all were armed with at least one blade or firearm. Sjan-dehk walked past the reasons for their caution – all seventeen of them – amidships. The shackled prisoners toiled under the watchful gaze of sailors armed with swords and muskets as they disassembled the two heavy guns on deck. Bound as they were, Sjan-dehk didn’t like the idea of giving them tools that could easily be turned into weapons by a man desperate enough for freedom. As such, he had decreed that anyone working on the Celestine was to be properly armed, as if they were boarding an enemy vessel.

Naturally, that included himself, and even more naturally, that meant he had to be the most armed member of his crew aboard the ship. A good captain had to set a good example, after all.

“So what should we do, captain?” Hai-shuun asked as they leaned over the gunwale to the right of the gangplank. Directly across from them, separated by a single wooden pier, was the Sada Kurau. Sjan-dehk could hear his crew shouting to each other as they carefully lowered the three diagonal lateen yards to deck. Sahm-tehn and Azwan were the loudest voices, both seemingly competing to drown out the other. A tangle of ropes and tackles hung from the masts like vines creeping down a tree.

“If we were to leave the mast as it is–” Sjan-dehk turned to face Hai-shuun, his body and one arm resting against and on the gunwale. “–would it stop you from repairing the rest of the ship?”

Hai-shuun considered the question for a moment before responding. “Not likely, I’d say. I would prefer to have the mast replaced first, however. It’s a big job with a high chance of damaging something or other in the process. We’ll be doing double work if we have to repair damages from that on top of what we’re already doing now.”

Sjan-dehk stood up and picked up his hat. “I don’t like it either, but I’d rather not sink money into a ship that could end up in someone else’s hands by sundown. Do what you can around the mast now. I’ll go find whoever it is that owns this city and have this ship’s fate settled as soon as possible.” A mischievous grin crept across his lips as he threw on the hat. “With some luck, maybe I can make this thing sound like a shit enough heap that they wouldn’t even want it.”

Hai-shuun laughed. “Best of luck with that, sir. I will be onboard–”

An alarmed yell cut his words short. Both men snapped their heads around to look at the Sada Kurau just in time to see one of the lateen yards fall a fair distance before the crew caught hold of the ropes. Even from this distance, Sjan-dehk could hear Azwan and Sahm-tehn screaming for blood in turn. “...I’ll go see whoever owns this city after I investigate what just happened,” Sjan-dehk corrected himself and gave Hai-shuun a curt nod. “The Celestine’s yours, master Hai-shuun, I’ll have Azwan check on your progress later. Any problems you find can be told to him. He should know how to handle such matters by now.”

“Understood, captain.”

Sjan-dehk marched himself down the gangplank as quickly as he could. Truthfully speaking, he wasn’t as worried as he seemed. Azwan and Sahm-tehn were experienced sailors doing – in the case of the latter especially – what they did best. It was just that this would be the first time in a very long time Sjan-dehk would be further than a stone’s throw away from his ship. For an indeterminate amount of time, no less. A quick visit to make sure everything was in proper order, that was all he needed. Perhaps to take care of whatever lingering affairs that needed his attention as well. Nothing more than that.

---

In a way, the slums of Sorian brought Sjan-dehk some small sense of relief. It was comforting to know that he could be in a strange city on the far side of the world, and yet its poorest and most destitute quarter was not at all unlike those he would find in any Viserjantan city. There were dingy taphouses selling drinks that he assumed would either give a man great joy or sudden blindness within three swigs; wretched dens for people to throw away their hard-earned coin on games that may or may not be rigged; hopeful merchants hawking odds-and-ends from their dilapidated doorsteps, and of course, the occasional clamour of an ongoing tussle.

All this, and just barely a stone’s throw away from the piers where his ship was docked. Over the coming days, he expected his crew to become very familiar with the place. Cheap drinks and fast games were to sailors as sugarcane was to ants. That meant Sjan-dehk and his officers would also have to become intimately familiar with these winding and narrow streets. Someone has to stop the crew from doing something they would otherwise regret, or prevent them from starting some sort of international incident.

For now, however, Sjan-dehk was – and he loathed to admit it – lost.

Had he been in a better mood, he would have laughed. Here he was, a veteran captain who could find his way across open seas and terrible storms alike using nothing more than the sun and stars, lost in a city of which he had a map. The harbour master who had sold it to him even gave some directions, although he did speak with such haste that Sjan-dehk barely understood a word.

His intended destination peeked over the roofs of ramshackle hovels. Grey stone rising high above drab and mottled wood, as if it were teasing him. Being able to see the castle but not find his way there vexed Sjan-dehk to no end. Initially, he had thought he could simply cut across the slums to the road beyond which looked on the map like it would offer him a direct path to the castle’s entrance. Unfortunately, the disorderly tangle of muck-filled streets and alleys proved too challenging to navigate. There was no point in pushing forward when he didn’t even know where he was going, and so he decided to retrace his steps and return to the coast.

Fortunately, most of the slum’s inhabitants gave him a wide berth. Either they didn’t know what to think of this strange foreigner wandering aimlessly among their homes, or they were cowed into hesitation by the arms and armour he wore.

Sjan-dehk had intended to leave behind at least one sword and most of his pistols – out of comfort more than anything else – but it had been quite the rush aboard the Sada Kurau. Between adjudicating over the matter of the slipped yard with Azwan and Sahm-tehn, changing out of his sodden clothes for ones that didn’t stink of bilge water, and Mursi choosing the worst time possible to present a rifled breech-loading carbine for inspection, Sjan-dehk barely had any time to properly think his actions through. And so, he ended up leaving behind only the two pistols that had been on his chest, but somehow bringing Mursi’s carbine along, which he had slung across his back.

It was all dead weight, he knew. Unless a minor war broke out whilst he was ashore, he was quite likely over-armed. Still, they did give him a sense of security as he navigated these dark streets. That they kept potential troublemakers away was a nice little bonus.

He recognised the briny whiff of ocean air long before he saw the blue waters of the harbour. At last, he was back to where he started. The exact same spot, even; just a little farther down to his right, he spied the streaming pennants flying from the masts of his Sada Kurau. “Well, fuck,” he muttered beneath his breath and let out a long sigh of resignation. For a moment, he considered returning to his ship and dropping off his excess weaponry, but decided against it. He wanted to offload his prisoners and settle the question of the Celestine as soon as possible. Before dusk, if at all possible.

Turning away from his ship, he followed the road along the coast. The thronging crowd jostled and pushed him like waves against a skiff. Gritting his teeth, Sjan-dehk pulled the brim of his hat lower over his eyes and did his best to gently and politely plough through the mass of people. It didn’t take long to find himself in another slum, but this one at least had a better-defined road for him to follow. A horse-drawn cart laden with prisoners rattled past him, throwing up mud in its wake. Sjan-dehk made sure to give it a wide berth; it wouldn’t do him any favours to show up looking like a mess at the castle.

He could feel the curious and wary gazes of the crowd burning through his clothes. Heads turned as he passed, even if for but the briefest of moments. Though Sjan-dehk understood their curiosity, he couldn’t help but feel discomfort, and so he doubled his pace. He kept a hand hovering surreptitiously near the hilt of his sword, and kept it there until he rounded a corner and the disorderly mess of run-down shacks and hovels began to thin. Up ahead, clean streets and sturdy buildings of stone awaited. A smile flickered across his lips. At long last, he was making real progress.

It didn’t last long. Before he knew it, he had reached the outskirts of yet another harbour. A guttural groan of frustration rumbled up his throat and he furrowed his brows in frustration. Then again, most of it was his fault to begin with; so focused had he been on following the street that he hadn’t paid much attention to the castle, which now rose high over tiled and stone roofs to his left. Still looking down upon him with that very same mocking gaze. Sjan-dehk pulled out the map and examined it again. He looked up at the grand estate beside him, then back to the map. For all the good it did; speaking the language was one thing, but reading it was another entirely.

The crowd from before was long gone, reduced to a trickle of well-dressed people walking with purpose to wherever it was they needed to go. Not at all the sort who looked like they would deign to stop and help a lost traveller, but Sjan-dehk didn’t have much of a choice. “Excuse me. What is this place?” He asked the first person who passed, a man in a fine suit. He barely glanced in his direction. Sjan-dehk frowned but asked the same question to several more passers-by, each time receiving the same response. He bit on his cheek and did his best to swallow his simmering frustration. Wealth and power never did beget courtesy, as many a wise sage had once written.

Eventually, someone did give him an answer. A man dressed in drab, shabby clothes with a heavy sack slung behind a shoulder stopped. “This place?” He repeated and cocked his head towards the estate. “Tell you truthfully, friend, I’m not sure either. Moved here not too long ago myself, you see. People I work with at the docks tell me it’s some duke’s place? Vikena’s the name, or something like that.” He paused and looked Sjan-dehk up and down, letting out a low whistle as he did so. “You might want to keep those weapons elsewhere before you head inside, friend. In any case, I hope that helps.”

The man continued on his way before Sjan-dehk even parsed his final sentence. By the time he finished translating the words in his head, it was too late. “Who?” He called out, but the man was already too far away to hear him. Sjan-dehk could only sigh, curse his poor luck, and study the map once more. Well, if a duke did live here, then he couldn’t be too far from where he needed to go. Judging by how it loomed over him, it had to be just one street away. Sjan-dehk just had to figure out how to get to said street.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

The Journey

The ocean spray was bitter cold, and the whispering easterly stiff. Sjan-dehk felt both acutely from where he stood aboard his Sada Kurau: right by her four bow chasers and just to the right of where her long bowsprit the hull. As far forward as her main deck would allow, and thus as exposed to the elements as one could get. Briny water lashed against his days-unshaven face. The bracing wind cut through his linen clothes and flesh to chill his very bones. He paid neither much heed, instead concentrating on scanning the thick fog ahead through the spyglass he held to his eye.

Behind him, the deck was abuzz with the groggy murmurs and unhappy grumbles of a crew slowly rousing for their sixth day straight of pre-dawn watch. Men reluctantly pulled themselves from open hatches, most dressed shabbily in strained and ratty clothes. Footsteps thumped across well-swabbed planks as they went about their duties, or to the head. The Sada Kurau’s three heavy sails were trimmed and set to the steady rhythm of creaking ropes, rattling tackles, and ruffling fabric.

Sjan-dehk grimaced. The tension and discontent of his crew were palpable. He didn’t blame them; he was none too pleased about this arrangement, himself. If his men needed to be up before the sun even kissed the horizon, then he had to be awake long before then. Awake and dressed for battle, no less. That meant a full set of lamellar armour over his – by now sweat and seawater-soaked – clothes, a tangle of belts about his body supporting scabbards, holsters, and pouches, and a heavy conical helmet hammered from sheet metal perched atop his head.

Not the best way to start a day, to say the least. Granted, much of this was self-inflicted; as captain, he enjoyed certain privileges, exemption from watch duties being one of them. That had never sat well with Sjan-dehk, however. Part of a captain’s role was to set a good example for the crew, even if that involved undertaking some of the more tiresome and loathsome duties.

Besides, nothing united people quite like collective suffering, as he had once been told.

He blinked a few times to relax his eyes, then brought the spyglass up once more. A fair distance ahead and mostly obscured by the impenetrable mist, he could just about make out the outlines of battened sails rising out of the cloudy dark like dragons’ wings. It was all he could see of the treasure ship Sudah, and that discomforted him. For she was a behemoth close to three hundred feet in length, pushing sixty in beam, and sporting five masts thick and tall as the trees from which they had been hewed. To not be able to see such a gargantuan vessel clearly was only testament to the thickness of this accursed fog. Built to impress as much as she was to trade, she was the centrepiece of Sjan-dehk’s fleet of two. The entire reason for its being and also the cause of much of his woes.

Well, it was the people she carried that were troublesome; the ship herself was a beautiful thing. Scholars, archivists, artisans, administrators, even a royal tutor, the Sudah’s senior staff included people of such high skill and standing, but they weren’t sailors. Sjan-dehk doubted they knew their afts from fores or yards from keels. Yet, they somehow had the ear of the Sudah’s captain and had the confidence to be stubborn as mules when discussing nautical matters. A few days ago, he had tried to convince them that, in light of this fog, it was best if they halved the distance between their ships. As usual, they responded with polite nods and meaningless words that seemed to go everywhere and nowhere at once. Sjan-dehk ended the day having achieved nothing aside from boiling his blood.

Just thinking back on it was enough to make him clench his jaw, and so he decided to focus on searching the endless grey for…

He wasn’t quite sure himself, to be honest. Part of him was hoping to find signs of land. Anything at all to tell him that this now-approaching two months-long journey was nearing its end. Not for him; he could likely live on his Sada Kurau forever, but for his crew. Experienced as they were, they needed time ashore to refresh themselves and unwind. Sjan-dehk wasn’t even asking for Sorian – their intended destination – at this point and he surely wasn’t expecting to find it. According to the Sudah’s esteemed archivist in charge of studying the decades-old charts written by long-dead mariners that guided them, they should have reached the city nearly two weeks ago. Instead, here they were. Not for the first time, Sjan-dehk wished he had the authority to toss that arrogant old man and his yellowed manuscripts overboard. They would be just as useful in the deep as they had been on deck, as far as he was concerned.

Another, larger part of him hoped to find a trace of that mysterious ship that had been stalking them. She was, after all, the sole reason why he had his crew on full alert every morning for close to a week, now.

Sjan-dehk hadn’t managed to catch a good look at her since she first appeared days ago, just before they sailed into these foggy waters. Twin-masted, built bluff in contrast to his Sada Kurau’s svelte figure, and well-armed with two large-bore but stubby cannons on her deck; aside from that he could tell no more. Her captain commanded her expertly. They kept her far enough to make chasing her down a hassle, but still close enough to start a fight if they so wished. Typical harassment tactics, something Sjan-dehk had learned to quickly identify after years of hunting pirates. More like than not, they knew about this fog. Why else would they have simply followed and done nothing else for so long? No, Sjan-dehk was certain this was all part of their plan, and the Sudah had led them all right into their jaws.

Had their ships been closer, he would have been more at ease. There was strength in numbers and he could rely on the Sudah’s own lookouts for information. This far apart and with such poor visibility? His Sada Kurau had only herself and her crew. If they made it through this alive and well, Sjan-dehk would have some very strong words with the Sudah’s captain and her senior staff. Their obstinacy had brought great inconvenience to the fleet at best, and placed them in unnecessary danger at worst.

“Sighting off the starboard bow!” A shout from above pulled Sjan-dehk from his thoughts. “Looked like masts in the fog!”

He immediately shifted his view to the right and peered into the distance. Nothing but misty grey, and the mastheads of the Sudah only just peeking through. Furrowing his brow, he brought the spyglass down and turned to look up the foremast. A scruffy looking man sat amongst its web of rigging, nestled rather comfortably where one of the ship’s diagonal lateen yards met its horizontal counterpart. “Are you sure you didn’t just spot the Sudah, Sahman?” Sjan-dehk called back. The resultant smattering of quiet chuckles from those within earshot brought him some modicum of relief. At least they still had some humour left in them.

If Sahman was put off by the remark, he didn’t sound it. “No, captain. Swear I saw just two masts, and little ones too! Sails weren’t battered neither! She was abreast of Sudah last I saw her!”

Sjan-dehk grimaced and returned to scanning the fog in haste. He had few reasons to doubt Sahman’s eyes, and plenty to suspect that their stalker had gotten around them. If that other captain was smart, and if they knew these waters well as Sjan-dehk presumed, they would use the fog to isolate the fleet and pick them off one-by-one. A shame they didn’t come after his Sada Kurau first, but it didn’t matter. The Sudah wasn’t so far away that the Sada Kurau couldn’t be by her side within minutes. Less than that, even, if this following wind held. He just had to find that stalker before she found them.

A series of distant explosions interrupted his thoughts. He saw the flashes first, their reds and yellows for a moment turning patches of fog into fiery clouds. On instinct, he ducked beneath the gunwale and yelled for his crew to do the same. “Down, take cover!” His crew gave alarmed shouts, and things clattered to the deck as they threw themselves upon the planking. Not long after, growling rumbles like the ominous boom of thunder washed over the ship, but not shot or shrapnel. Whatever those cannons were firing at, it wasn’t them, and Sjan-dehk had a pretty good idea as to their target. They were close, too; barely any time separating flash from report.

He slowly pulled himself back onto his feet. Still no sign of the mystery ship, but she had certainly made herself known in a spectacular manner. Well, this was what he had been waiting for; what his entire crew had been preparing for. “All hands to your posts!” Those words left his throat before he even turned to march his way down the deck. A smirk tugged on his lips. At last, his Sada Kurau and her crew could do what they did best. “Sharp and lively now, we’ve finally caught the little shit. Arms and armour to the deck, and someone inform master Mursi we need every firing gun from his workshop!”

Two men ran towards him, stopping to salute – a fist over their chests with shallow bows, as was the Viserjantan fashion – heaving shoulders and short breaths. “I came as soon as I heard, sir,” the shorter and stockier of the two said. His head was shorn almost to the skin, and his muscles bulging beneath his pale saffron tunic. The lamellar plate over his body tried, but didn’t quite succeed in covering every inch of his wide body. “Bloody loud guns, they were. Must’ve been seventy-pounders at the very least.”

“At least,” the other one concurred. Lankier and taller, he would have been noticed by his paler-than-most complexion were it not for the empty right sleeve tied neatly at the base of his remaining stump and tucked neatly into his cross-necked collar. He looked at Sjan-dehk with a pair of eyes which might have never experienced mirth beneath a head of unkempt, dark hair. “What are your orders, captain?”

“We’re practically on top of her, so we’ll have to turn quick and turn hard.” Sjan-dehk placed his hands on his hips and glanced over his shoulder, chewing on his lower lip. “Judging by her cannon flash, I’d put money on her being bow or stern-on towards us. Master Sahm-tehn, give us full sails and turn them towards the wind. Trim the yards as you see fit to give us a tight turn to starboard, and have them catch the wind once we’re on course to give us some speed. We must be swift if we want to catch her off-guard.”

“As you say, captain.” Sahm-tehn offered another salute but stopped just as he turned to leave. “Shall I inform the helmsman, captain?”

Sjan-dehk nodded. “Yes, that would be helpful. Thank you.” With that, Sahm-tehn strode off towards the stern, bellowing orders as he did to his riggers both on deck and amongst the masts. Sjan-dehk turned to the other man with a grin. “Well, first officer Azwan, what do you think?”

The Sada Kurau’s second-in-command didn’t share in his captain's excitement. “Those big guns of hers will tear us to shreds if we get too close. We’ll have to play with range with our speed, but with this damn fog there’s only so much we can do. However, if she’s distracted with the Sudah, we might be able to sneak our way in for at least one good broadside.”

With a pleased smile, Sjan-dehk clapped the man on the shoulder. “Good assessment as always. We’ll make a damn fine captain out of you yet, but for now I need you on the gun deck. Command them as you see fit. I trust you will have them firing straight and true and in our usual manner, but make sure the men reload them quickly. We may have to go alongside her and I don’t want us caught in that position with empty guns.”

“Alongside? You mean to board her?”

“The Sudah’s a strong ship, but she can only take so much punishment. We have to end this quick, and that means boarding her.” Sjan-dehk took a step back and spread his hands wide. “And besides, boarding also means we get ourselves a nice prize and whatever she’s got in her holds. After so many days of watch, I think the men deserve some reward, eh?”

Azwan chuckled, but his apprehension was still clear. “That they do, sir. We’ll have to hope that her guns don’t turn on us in time.”

“Master Mursi will have his sharpshooters in the tops, and I’ll have men on the swivel guns to cover us as we get close. Of course, if you can have your guns give that bastard a good hammering once we’ve pulled alongside, it’ll make all our lives a little bit easier.”

That got a smirk from Azwan. “Aye, that I can do. We’ll have them shitting iron and powder by the time the day’s out, sir. We won’t let you down.”

Sjan-dehk replied with a toothy grin of his own. “I know you won’t.” They saluted each other and went their separate ways; Azwan climbing down an open hatch, and Sjan-dehk carrying on along the deck until he was by the helm, just forward of a short flight of steps leading up to the quarterdeck. Whatever fatigue and lethargy that had plagued his ship earlier had all but vanished. Sahm-tehn’s men chanted their cadence with vigour as they pulled hard on ropes connected to the lateen yards. Others shouted to one another from high above, untying and fully unfurling the Sada Kurau’s crimson sails. They billowed, catching the wind in an instant and pulling the ship into a sharp, lurching turn. Muskets and swords continued to be brought up in crates and buckets, along with pre-loaded charges from the powder hold for the swivel guns and chasers. Already, Sjan-dehk could see men with long carbines strapped to their backs climbing up the rigging to platforms near the tops of the masts.

A warm feeling bubbled in his chest. It always heartened him to see his crew performing their duties to the best of their abilities. He could hardly ask for more as their captain.

As the Sada Kurau cut its way through the fog, the sights and sounds of battle became more and more distinct until he could bear full witness to the battle raging between the mystery ship and the Sudah. Thick smoke hung in the air between both ships. Another deafening roar shook both sea and sky as the mystery ship opened fire, her entire hull rocking back from the recoil. Sjan-dehk quickly brought up his spyglass to observe the damage. Heavy shot and a scattering of shrapnel impacted the Sudah’s tall side. The latter merely scratched paint and chipped wood, but the former punched great jagged holes in the wood. She would hold for now, but not for long under such fire. Neither could she even fight back; close as the mystery ship was, the Sudah’s own deck cannons couldn’t depress enough to return fire. Puffs of musket fire and streaks of arrows were the only signs of resistance from her.

There was one saving grace, however. As expected, the mystery ship hadn’t expected to fight anyone other than the Sudah. She had her flat, unadorned stern exposed to every single gun on the Sada Kurau’s starboard side. Neither were most of her square sails set. Only the ones half-way up her masts were doing anything to help her keep pace with her lumbering prey. A stationary, unprotected target. Sjan-dehk could see sailors on her quarterdeck turn in panic as they saw his ship bear down on them. It must have been terrifying for them, he imagined, to see the Sada Kurau cutting through fog and water towards them, royal yellow banners streaming from masts and figureheads carved in the visages of vicious dragons.

Just above the waterline, he saw the mystery ship’s name at long last, painted in white with visibly haphazard strokes. Celestine.

Sjan-dehk brought the spyglass down and cocked his head slightly. That didn’t sound too unlike from the limited Caesonian words he knew. At least, that was if his memory served and the royal tutor had done his job properly. A plan began to form in his head. Perhaps there was a way for this Celestine to pay her debts to both the Sudah and Sada Kurau without spending the lives of her crew.

Well, before that, he had to humble her first. Give her some reason to stop fighting.

The Sada Kurau carried more than a few reasons. Fourteen of them, to be exact, and they opened fire one-by-one as the Celestine came into view of her gunners. The deck shuddered beneath Sjan-dehk’s feet with each shot. Armed with long guns meant for accurate and powerful fire from easily thrice this distance, he had no doubts that every shot found their mark. Loud cheers from the deck below told him that his crew were of the same mind, but their celebrations were cut short by Azwan shouting for them to hurry and reload.

For Sjan-dehk’s part, he didn’t bother with waiting for the gun smoke to clear to check the damage. There was no time, and besides, he would find out one way or another soon enough. “Helmsman, bring us hard to larboard!” He handed the spyglass to a passing crewman with a nod of thanks before pushing his way through the crowd back to amidships. “Master Sahm-tehn, slow us down and prepare to bring us to a halt once we’re alongside her.” The men must have gotten an inkling as to what he intended, as some were already arming themselves and standing by the larboard-side gunwale. “Bring boarding planks and hooks on deck! We’re going to steal ourselves a new ship, men!”

That brought a rancorous cheer rippling up and down the deck. Nothing excited his crew – himself included, for that matter – quite like the prospect of bringing the fight onto the enemy’s deck. In another life, they would have all made excellent pirates. A good thing, then, that they used their skills to hunt them in this one.

Sjan-dehk picked up a carbine. It was heavily scratched, with signs of recent tooling, and a strange hinged mechanism near the lock. All signs of Mursi’s personal experiments in his workshop far, far below decks in the hold. Well, now was as good a time as any to see if it was worth the trouble. Sjan-dehk knew how to operate it; he had insisted that the eccentric self-proclaimed inventor give the entire crew an overview of his project before allowing him to bring his tools to a few of the Sada Kurau’s precious firearms.

Whatever worries Azwan had about the Celestine’s crew turning her big guns to face the Sada Kurau proved to be unfounded. Even at just a glance, Sjan-dehk could tell that their earlier enfilade had torn through the length of the ship. At least one cannon laid in ruins, surrounded by debris and the writhing forms of the wounded. That was all he saw before Azwan ordered the guns to fire once more. This time, Sjan-dehk was close enough to hear the splintering of wood and screams of men through the ferocious roar of cannons. “Reel her in, don’t let them rest!”

Hooks were thrown across the gap between the two ships. Some missed their mark, but most landed with a clatter on the Celestine’s deck, finding purchase wherever they could. Any man that wasn’t working to haul in the Sada Kurau’s sails had by now joined Sjan-dehk at the gunwale with whatever ranged weapon they could get their hands on. Most had a musket or a pistol, but a fair number carried bows. It didn’t matter to him; so long as they could deal some damage on the enemy, all was well.

“Steady now,” Sjan-dehk called out over the loud chatter of his men. “She’s wounded but we haven’t got her yet. She’ll be fighting back hard, so prepare yourselves! Remember, there’s no shame in taking cover to reload, so none of that bullshit bravado, understood? If the man beside you is wounded, you take him below decks to the surgeon immediately! We’ve fought bigger bastards and with piss-poor odds without casualties before, so make damn sure none of you die today!”

The crew laughed and cheered, and those were quickly drowned out by the crack of muskets when the Celestine was pulled within range. Sjan-dehk took aim at the first target he vaguely saw through the mist and smoke, braced the wooden stock against his shoulder, and pulled the trigger. Without hesitation, he ducked beneath the gunwale. Musket balls cut through the air overhead. Unfortunately but not at all unexpectedly, some of his men caught them and went down with loud yells and shouts. Sjan-dehk ignored it; they would be taken care of, and for now he had to focus on reloading.

Mursi had done a splendid job with his tinkering. The mechanism raised a block which allowed him to reload without the need for a cumbersome, full-length ramrod. Sjan-dehk could see himself firing off two or three shots for every one by the Celestine’s crew. The few crewmen of his who had taken a similar weapon for themselves were already doing so, judging by the steady, rapid cracks echoing across the deck. Sjan-dehk made a mental note to properly reward his master-at-arms later, and perhaps with something a little extra for all the trouble he had made him go through just to get his materials. Slowly but surely, they were whittling down the Celestine’s crew with barrage after barrage of withering fire.

“Sir!” Azwan’s voice called out through the din of battle. He slid into cover beside Sjan-dehk, loaded and cocked pistols in either hand. “I have the gun crews armed and on deck. Boarding planks are already being pushed out from the bow and stern. They will be amidships in short order.”

“Well done!” Sjan-dehk gave his first officer a congratulatory smile as he peeked over the gunwale to take a shot. This felt almost unfair; the Celestine was hardly fighting back. Even as a duckboard was pushed from behind Sjan-dehk to bridge the narrow gap, they hardly did anything to stop it. Neither was their fire keeping up. If anything, it wasn’t as fierce as it was when this first began. Some of Sjan-dehk’s men had even foregone cover entirely, choosing to remain standing as they fired and reloaded. The enemy was beginning to break, he was sure of it, and so it was the perfect time for him to confirm something.

“All hands, prepare to cease fire!” He shouted and pulled out a dirty, white handkerchief from his pocket.

“Sir, what’re you doing?” Azwan hissed. “We have these bastards! Let’s just finish this now.”

Sjan-dehk looked at him with a mischievous smirk. “Oh, just asking for directions, and making sure that cunt of a tutor did his job right.” He draped the handkerchief over the muzzle of his carbine and lifted it over the gunwale, waving it about to catch the other side’s attention. “Truce,” he called out, repeating himself in his own native tongue for the benefit of his crew. It took a while, but eventually the guns stopped firing, and tense silence fell over the ships. “You do not want to die, yes?” Sjan-dehk continued, the foreign syllables and sounds falling awkwardly off his tongue. “I do not want to fight. Let us talk.”

“Then show yourself!”

Caesonian. Just like that, Sjan-dehk already had most of what he wanted out of this exchange. He could just retract his offer now and order his men to continue the onslaught, but it was always prudent to at least give diplomacy a try. A victory with minimal bloodshed was best, after all. Against his first officer’s protests, Sjan-dehk slowly stood up, resting the carbine on the deck and with both hands raised. The captain of the Celestine stood directly opposite him, across a duckboard linking their ships. Bearded, covered in soot and blood, and his clothes torn and ragged, he exuded tiredness but still carried himself with the confidence of his station. Behind him stood the remains of his crew.

“Here I am.” Sjan-dehk offered a friendly smile and gestured to his line of assembled men. They stood in closed ranks, hands gripping their weapons tight and eyes regarding their counterparts with suspicion and barely-concealed malice. “They will not fire unless I tell them. We can talk now, no?”

“State your terms,” the other captain said brusquely.

“You surrender,” Sjan-dehk replied matter-of-factly. “We take your ship and cargo. We bring you with us but we will not hurt you. You will guide us to Sorian. Once there, we hand you over to your lords. You face your own justice, not Viserjantan justice.” It was a terrible deal, one which he knew the other captain wouldn’t accept. Not even if his situation was truly dire. Sjan-dehk didn’t know a thing about Caesonia, but he doubted they would allow any pirate to keep their lives.

The captain of the Celestine did not disappoint. “Fuck off! Either you let us go or you finish this.”

“What? What’s he saying?” Azwan asked in a hushed voice. “Are they surrendering?”

Sjan-dehk didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he sighed and turned around, head bowed and hands on his hips, as if he were giving the other captain’s counter-offer serious thought. “No,” he said at last to Azwan and chewed on his lip. “Not yet, at least. They would rather die fighting. Commendable for damned pirates, I suppose.” With slow, deliberate movements, he curled his hand around the pistol on the left-side of his waist. Hidden from the other captain’s view, but in clear view of Azwan. “On my go.”

“I haven’t got all fucking day, if you-”

In one smooth action, Sjan-dehk drew the weapon, spun around, and shot the Celestine’s captain square in the chest. The man’s eyes bulged, and his words caught in his throat with a gurgle before he dropped like a sail that had lost its wind. His crew cried out in surprise, but that was as much reaction as they could manage before Azwan ordered the Sada Kurau’s men to open fire. A devastating fusilade felled many of their number and threw the rest into confusion.

Sjan-dehk casually returned the empty gun to its holster and drew the two on his lower back. “No time to waste, men! Our Gods and Ancestors are watching us, so let us not disappoint! If we must go to them today, we go with pride and honour! Sada Kurau, anjahntar!” With that, he sprinted across the board. The first two targets he saw, he shot them dead before dropping both pistols to draw his swords. His men followed close behind, some even swinging across on ropes, so eager were they to run the enemy down.

It was all a blur after that. Just a cacophony of clashing blades and gunshots; the stench of burnt powder and spilled blood. Sjan-dehk danced his way through the enemy, barely thinking as instinct alone guided him to parry and deflect, to stab and cut. Man after man fell before him, and he went from one victim to the next, until his clothes and armour were stained red and his blades dripping. What survivors there were of the Celestine’s crew retreated below decks, and Sjan-dehk’s men followed with riotous roars and jeering taunts. Only when they dropped their weapons and surrendered, and agreed to show the way to Sorian, did the slaughter finally stop.

A captured ship with her crew as prisoners, and the way to Sorian. All before the sun had even cleared the horizon. Sjan-dehk could think of worse ways to start a day.

---

The Arrival

Sjan-dehk didn’t quite know how to feel when he saw the city appear on the horizon. On the one hand, it was a sign that this overly-long journey was close to its end. For now, at least; they still had many other destinations to visit, but for the next few weeks at least, he was free from those intransgrient fools aboard the Sudah. For the most part. Sjan-dehk had plans to acquire local maps of the region; those would almost certainly be much better than the old and almost-hilariously wrong charts they had been using. No longer would that damned archivist be allowed to dictate matters of navigation. Not on Sjan-dehk’s watch, at least. Getting lost once was enough for this expedition.

On the other hand, this was arguably the true start of his ordeal. As much of a headache as it was to sail with the Sudah’s circus of gentlemen-playing-sailors, he still ultimately played the role he played best; the captain of the Sada Kurau. On land, he would have to be the fourth lesser marquis of Jafi. An utterly useless rank; he wasn’t so much on the ladder of peerage as he was the dirt which it rested upon. Out here, however, a useless rank was still a rank, and that meant he was the only one onboard either ship that was suited for mingling with the local nobility. Granted, he would likely be a mere observer, but even the notion of doing just was taxing on his mind.

“We will need materials for the Celestine, oak preferably–”

“I would worry less about the Celestine, master Hai-shuun. We have wounded who will need time ashore to recover. We should find a suitable place for them first and worry about the rest later.”

“Aye, we’ll just ask to borrow a whole damn hospital, easy as that, eh?”

“You talk as if we must all act in unison. We can surely do more than one thing at a time.”

Naturally, with him dreading his immediate future, the loyal senior staff of the Sada Kurau made sure to make themselves present to take their captain’s mind off of things. They all sat around a scuffed and stained table hauled up from the gundeck on the quarterdeck. Everyone was here; one-armed Sahm-tehn; dutiful Hai-shuun, their carpenter; jovial Avek, the chief steward and cook; their innovative master-at-arms, Mursi; their four-eyed surgeon, Dai-sehk; even youthful Sohn-dahn, the ship’s leading boy and in charge of the handful of pre-adolescents who plied their trade in the dark warrens of the Sada Kurau’s holds.

Only Azwan was missing, but he certainly made his presence felt. Sjan-dehk could hear him giving some visiting sailors from the Sudah a veritable tongue-lashing on the main deck. As for the rest of them, they were mostly discussing plans for when they were ashore. Sjan-dehk declined to participate. He didn’t need to make plans, they had been made for him long in advance.

“Will you be meeting any princesses?” Had that question been asked in any other voice aside from Sohn-dahn’s innocent tones, Sjan-dehk would have responded with dry contempt. The temptation to say something blithe was there, he wouldn’t lie, but as he glanced sideways at the freckle-faced eleven year-old, eyes filled with genuine wonder, he simply couldn’t bring himself to.

“Who knows? Curious to meet one, young master Sohn-dahn?” He asked with a grin.

The boy nodded. “Yes, sir. Never seen one before. Not in real life at least.”

Sjan-dehk reached across to ruffle the boy’s hair. “I’ll see what I can do, eh?”

A loud guffaw that could only come from Avek interrupted them. Sjan-dehk glowered at him across the table, but said nothing. Instead, he waited for the impressively bearded man to compose himself and say in a playful drawl, “Apologies, sir, but it’s not good to lie to the boy. Haven’t you told us before? Don’t promise something you can’t keep.”

“He’s not wrong, captain,” Hai-shuun added, nonchalantly scratching at a few freshly-healed scars on his squarish face with a heavily calloused hand. “With your rank, you’d be lucky just to meet her handmaidens. Maybe not even that. Serving ladies of their palace, perhaps?”

Sjan-dehk looked at each in turn with a stern look. He leaned back, his hands resting on the table. “You know, most captains wouldn’t allow the likes of you to speak to them that way.” He kept his face and voice as flat as possible, giving nothing away. “I could have the two of you flogged for impertinence.”

“Aye, you could do it, easy as that, but we all know you’re not most captains, captain,” Avek replied.

A series of nods and agreements went around the table, and Sjan-dehk felt a brief, mirthless chuckle escape his lips. No, he was definitely not most captains. Perhaps if he was, he wouldn’t dread the prospect of socialising with the local nobles. Prim, proper, and astute. That was what every officer should aspire to be. At home on the high seas but just as deft in manoeuvring a political storm. It was just unfortunate that Sjan-dehk proved to be overly-skilled in the former but woefully inadequate in the latter.

He folded his arms across his chest. “I could still have the two of you flogged, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“I welcome the suggestion,” came Sahm-tehn’s monotone. “I will happily provide the flogging, captain.”

“With that one arm of yours? It’ll be a bloody tickle, if anything!” Avek hollered and slapped a shovel-like hand on the table. Hai-shuun frowned and gripped the edge tight to stop it from shaking. “You might have more luck with that stump of yours, eh?”

At that, even Sjan-dehk had to indulge in a few laughs at his master of sail’s expense. It was all just playful teasing, he knew. Everyone – well, everyone from the Sada Kurau – around this table had all been with him for close to a decade now. They were like family to each other. Closer than some families, if he dared say so himself. “Careful, master Avek. Remember who is it that does the rigging on this ship. He’s got plenty of strength in the one arm that he’s got left.”

The sound of heavy boots against wooden steps heralded Azwan. He gave Sjan-dehk a salute before taking his seat opposite him. “The captain of the Sudah wants to speak to you, sir,” he said, nodding his thanks to Avek who handed him a tin cup of tea. “Says he wants to talk to you about your conduct during the last action. He’s not happy by the sound of things.”

“After we saved his sorry arse?” Musir asked incredulously.

Azwan shrugged. “It’s just what I’m told. I don’t understand it, either.”

Sjan-dehk scowled and ground his teeth together. Trust the captain of that troublesome ship to be able to find some obscure fault with his saviour. Perhaps Sjan-dehk should have let him suffer a little longer under the Celestine’s fire before sailing to his aid. “Well, if he won’t give me a good reason, you can tell him to take that fucking meeting of his and shove it up where–”

A long, tired sigh just to his right, accompanied by the clack of a brush being rested on the table cut him short and caught everyone’s attention. “There will be none of that, young marcher prince,” a wizened man dressed in opulent and intricately-embroidered robes said in a voice that sounded as if he had just about enough of everything in general. He picked up the sheet of paper he had been scribbling on and handed it to Sjan-dehk. “I have written down everything that you should say once you’re ashore. Ancestors forgive me for allowing one of my charges to read from a script, but this is better than you making things up on your own should you forget.”

“You already tell me how to dress. Now you want to tell me what to say?” Though Sjan-dehk wasn’t too happy with the notion, he took the sheet of paper anyway. He supposed he should consider himself fortunate that he wasn’t wearing the gaudy silk robes the old man would have wanted him to wear. Damp rot had claimed at some point in the journey, thank the Gods. Still, he was hardly wearing what he would have chosen. Instead of a simple yellow tunic, he wore one of royal saffron expertly stitched with sharp, angular patterns on his sleeves in bright red. His lamellar plate had been polished to a shine, and the red sash about his waist embroidered with the prancing Viserjantan dragon. Even the conical, straw-woven hat leaning against his chair was carefully painted with decorative pictographs.

The royal tutor shifted and looked Sjan-dehk up and down. “Court dress would have been better, but this parade wear suits you better, I’m beginning to think.” There was a hint of approval in his creaky voice, but it disappeared with his next words. “Need I remind you that our success today hinges on your bearing and your dress. I’m just happy I didn’t have to remind you to shave, even if you could have done a cleaner job of it.”

“Yes, and open my throat in the process,” Sjan-dehk said drily. Personally, he thought it was a great accomplishment that he had managed to make himself look as presentable as he was aboard a rolling ship. Clean-shaven, hair neatly combed and pulled back into a short tail, he felt he had already done far more than what should have been expected.

A stiff breeze washed over the deck, almost snatching the sheet of paper from Sjan-dehk’s grip. “Put it somewhere safe!” The royal tutor snapped. With a sigh, Sjan-dehk tucked it between his sash and armour on his back. “Good, now let us go over some things. When you reach shore and you are greeted by our gracious hosts, what should your first words be?”

This was the umpteenth time they had rehearsed his little speech, and Sjan-dehk was tempted to make a fool of the old man, but that would only prolong his suffering, and so he played along. “I will introduce myself, the High Queen, and the Commonwealth, all with full titles.” He paused and looked out across the waters at the city in the distance. “With respect, most knowledgeable one, it is just as likely that all I will find is an overworked harbour master with no time for formalities. Have you seen all those other ships in harbour? Looks like they’ve already got their hands full.”

“Beautiful ships, too.” Hai-shuun nodded sagaciously. “Damn finely built. Wonder if I’ll be able to take a look inside.”

“Excellent cruisers, I imagine,” Sjan-dehk concurred.

“Focus, focus,” The royal tutor said hurriedly. “Young marcher prince, you know better than I that they would have likely sighted the Sudah cresting the horizon hours ago. Even if not the king or some duke or some lesser noble, I expect they would send some official delegation to investigate us, if nothing else. You must be prepared for such a possibility. Now carry on. What next after the introductions?”

“I will apologise for the absence of lady Adiyan, explain that it is she who should be discussing trade, and that she’s still recovering from injuries sustained from the earlier battle.” Once again, Sjan-dehk stopped and changed the subject. “How is she, by the way?” Of all the dignitaries about the Sudah, the lady was probably the only one Sjan-dehk could tolerate, for no other reason other than that she was typically the only one who spoke in favour of Sjan-dehk’s suggestions. A shame the rest never did listen to her.

“The lady is as she was the last you saw her. She will be fine.”

Sjan-dehk blinked once, then leaned in closer to the old man. “Most knowledgeable one, the last I saw of her, her left leg was black as night below the knee and that was enough shrapnel in her side to fill a fucking canister shot for one of my guns. Either all is as was and she is bloody dying, or she’s fine. It can’t be both at once.”

The royal tutor let out a frustrated huff. “The physicians say they removed most, if not all, of the shrapnel, but they will have to remove her leg if she is to be fully out of danger. There, are you satisfied?”

Injuries severe as hers were always nasty affairs. Sjan-dehk hadn’t expected her to come out completely unscathed, but losing a leg in her first naval action? That was just poor luck. Still, it was a mark of her bravery; he had heard from rumours that she had helped to direct the defense of her ship from the main deck up until a shot from the Celestine’s swivel guns caught her in the side. That was a whole lot more than whatever the Sudah’s captain had been doing, as far as Sjan-dehk was concerned.

“Poor girl,” Avek said with a shake of his head. “To be crippled just like that.”

“Indeed,” Sahm-tehn deadpanned and turned to cast a cold look at the steward. “Certainly a tragedy for the ages.”

“Eh, I’d say losing a leg’s worse than an arm. At least you can move around easy as you like. She has to carry a bloody crutch around wherever she goes from now on.”

“Have you tried rigging sails with only an arm, master Avek?”

The royal tutor ignored the two of them and gestured for Sjan-dehk to do the same. “Well done, young marcher prince. You remember a lot more than I expected you to.” For the first time since they met, there was a thin smile gracing the old man’s face. “With regards to the Celestine…I understand that I said to offer it as a gift and a sign of our goodwill, but upon further thought, you were right. She doesn’t look like much as she is. Certainly not worthy of being presented, she’s more of a…”

“Shit heap,” Sjan-dehk provided, and that was already him being kind. Despite Hai-shuun’s best efforts and the excellent work of his crew to make the Celestine seaworthy, there was only so much they could have done without a proper harbour. Even finding that narrow strip of coast where they had careened her had taken some luck and a lot of threats – some carried out, others not – towards their prisoners. The entire stern had to be practically rebuilt, and they had used enough planks to patch up her hull that they could have built a whole new skiff. Anyone with functioning eyes would be able to tell that she was sailing on little more than hopes and prayers.

Of course, Sjan-dehk was also loath to simply hand over a ship that he and his crew and won as a prize in a fair fight, but he wasn’t about to tell the tutor that.

“Yes, in such…Crass words, yes.” The tutor cleared his throat. “But, nevertheless, offer it to them and if they accept, you must give it. If not, I suppose it will be yours. Regardless, remember to let the prisoners out of the brig and hand them over should you keep the ship. How many would you say you have?”

“Seventeen.”

“Yet some of them would say that they numbered twenty at first. What happened to the other three?”

“Died of wounds during the journey.”

The tutor nodded, but didn’t look pleased at all. Sjan-dehk was just happy he didn’t go off on his tirade again about how he shouldn’t have had three of them executed, but what was he to do? They had found some captives deep in the Celestine’s hold, living in absolute squalor. Through halting conversations in broken Caesonian, Sjan-dehk found out that he had some of their worst abusers in his custody. Naturally, he had to bring them to account. Most were simple bullies, but three were guilty of such sordid crimes that they couldn’t be allowed to live for a day longer. Sjan-dehk had sentenced them to keelhauling; thrown overboard with ropes tied around their ankles and dragged along the length of the Celestine’s hull. Two of them were lucky enough to drown. The Gods favoured the third and allowed him to live, and so instead Hai-shuun fashioned him a simple raft which they chained him to and dragged out to the open sea. He was given a day’s worth of food and water, and a loaded pistol, and left to drift. No matter what happened to him, no one could say that Sjan-dehk killed a man who enjoyed some form of divine protection.

“Let’s hope those seventeen will hold their tongues as you say they will,” the tutor said darkly.

Sjan-dehk waved his hand dismissively. “Master Musir knows how to silence a man as much as he knows how to make one talk. I trust that he did a thorough job. Besides, even if they talk and their lords ask me about it, I can simply provide my reasons. They will understand, I’m sure.”

The tutor fixed him with a serious look. “They might, and I doubt there’s a lord alive who would suffer a pirate to live, but that is not the point, young marcher prince. The point is that you have undermined their authority by meting out punishment to their people. It was not your place to judge and it was certainly not your place to execute them.” He looked away and rubbed the bridge of his nose, then sighed. “Well, there's nothing we can do about it now. We can only hope that if it comes to it, things will go as you say.”

Well, even if they didn’t, Sjan-dehk felt certain he could find a way out of it. He had been in worse situations before, albeit they had all been ones he could either shoot or stab his way out of.

“We have dawdled long enough,” the tutor said with finality. “You should be off. I have to give the same damn speech to your officers lest they piss away your efforts.” It took him a moment, and Sjan-dehk’s knowing smirk likely helped, but eventually the old man realised what he had just said. His face paled and his look of utter shock was one to be remembered. Quiet sniggers from everyone else at the table told him that he couldn’t even pretend that it had just been a figment of their imaginations.

Sjan-dehk stood up and patted the old man on the shoulder. “You’re one of us now, most knowledgeable one. The Sada Kurau welcomes you aboard.” He picked up the ornate leather belts piled in a head on the floor and threw them over his body. It made him feel exposed to be so lightly-armed, with only two pistols by his waist and a single sword on his hip, but the tutor had insisted that if he had to be armed, he had to look like a refined swashbuckler and not a bellicose corsair. “Alright, until I get back, or until you hear from me, Azwan’s in charge, understood? Keep the men busy and out of trouble.”

Once he had his officers’ acknowledgements, he carefully placed his hat atop his head and walked down to the main deck. From there, he climbed a rope ladder over the side onto the sail-rigged launch that had brought the tutor to his ship earlier. The fleet had anchored a respectable distance away from the city to avoid causing too much alarm. Certainly too far away to make taking the Sada Kurau’s own rowboats a smart decision. Even with the sails, Sjan-dehk doubted they would be at harbour within the half-hour. Not with these unfavourable winds, at least.

“Let us be off,” he said to the launch’s small crew. They saluted smartly and quickly got to work pushing the small boat away from the Sada Kurau and setting her sails. Sjan-dehk took his seat at the stern, right next to the tiller. Apprehension was already beginning to seep into his heart, but he forced it down and tried to focus on steering the boat. There was no point worrying about things now, anyway. Only when he stepped ashore would he need to start worrying.

Or, as he hoped, he’d find neither noble nor delegation, and merely an overworked harbour master.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Wasun Sjan-dehk

Picture Reference

Wasun Sjan-dehk // 25 \\ Male

The 4th Lesser Marquis of Jafi, under the auspices of High Queen Daraya II and the council of electors
Captain of the Sada Kurau

Forget not our forebears

motto of the Wasun of Jafi

Height: 1.78 m / 5'10"
Weight: 65 kg / 143 lbs
Eye Colour: Dark brown
Hair Length: Medium-short / Coarse
Hair Colour: Black
Skin Colour: Tanned
Facial Features:

• Light freckles and sun spots speckled over his nose and cheeks
• A faded scar running down his left cheek, running almost parallel to his jaw

Distinguishing Features:

• A slight mischievous grin that never seems to leave his face
• Discoloured patches on the backs of both hands, from base of thumb to wrist
• Various healed wounds on his arms, legs, and torso

Clothing Preferences: Anything that's loose and allows him freedom of movement. Preferably, he wears the side-fastened, cross-necked tunic favoured by his fellow Viserjantans. Two layers would be worn; a thin inner layer to wick away sweat, and a thicker, coarser outer layer to take the punishment of daily work. If at all possible, the inner shirt would be raw white, and the outer the yellow of the Viserjantan Commonwealth. Similarly, his pants would be loose to the knee. Below that it would be fastened to his shoes with wraps. A conical, straw-woven hat would sit atop his head; lightweight, but offering adequate shade from the sun.

In battle, he would throw a cut-down suit of lamellar armour over his clothes. Cuirass, shortened tassets, and leather gauntlets. The hat would be replaced with something of a similar shape, but hammered from sheet metal.

Likes:

• His ship, the Sada Kurau
• Gentle seas and following winds
• Hunting pirates
• The rush of combat
• Old books, particularly historical texts and poetry
• Woodwind and string music - the sort one might find onboard a ship
• Simply being on the open water

Dislikes:

• The doldrums
• Spending more time than necessary ashore
• Political and courtly intrigue
• Nobles who have all of the pomp but none of the substance
• Roundabout ways of speaking

Sexuality: Straight, for what it's worth. As it stands, he's married to the damn sea.

Hobbies:

• Playing the flute
• Reading - both old and new texts
• Attempting to write music
• Attempting to write poetry
• Fishing
• Sharpening his combat skills - swordsmanship and marksmanship

Life goals/Dreams: Sjan-dehk's didn't choose a goal as much as he was shepherded into one: to be a good future admiral for his brothers. For what it's worth, he has little qualms with this involuntary goal so long as it keeps him at sea.

However, as with everyone else, he does harbour private desires. For him, it is to sail the open seas as an adventurer of sorts; to explore new lands, meet new peoples, and embark on quests of epic proportions that would undoubtedly make a good song or story years down the line. All of that would, of course, involve the Sada Kurau and his crew. There can be no others.

Personality summary: Irreverent | Friendly | Merciless | Loyal | Unrefined | Generous

Anyone who doesn't know better would find it hard to believe that Sjan-dehk possesses any noble blood at all; the ease with which he inserts expletives into his speech and rough manners with regards to most things would - rather aptly - better belong amongst the drunken crew of a ship or a raunchy tavern. Just as well he prefers the two over courtly events which he finds too stuffy and restrained for his liking. You never know a person until they've drunk themselves silly, as he'd put it.

Still, he is an affable enough man. Quick with his laughs and jokes as he is with his coin. His loyalty, however, that one comes much slower, but once gained will make him a stalwart ally. Slights against you would be slights against him. Gods and ancestors help anyone who brings harm to one of his friends. He'd hunt them as eagerly as he hunts pirates. Very much the first man to jump to a friend's defense and last to abandon them in a fight.

However, that doesn't mean he's quick to draw his swords. Any good captain knows it's better to negotiate a peaceable surrender - of the enemy, that is - than to charge in cannons blazing and blades keen. As much as possible, he'll attempt to defuse tensions through words and perhaps even deals. Only when those fail would he show just how much wanton violence he is capable of.

And he is indeed capable of acts of viciousness. Ask any pirate who have had the fortune to run across the Sada Kurau. They will tell you of a voracious crew led by a merciless captain. The lucky ones die in battle. Survivors would either be made to toil for their former victims under threat of death or, if that is not possible, made examples of to dissuade future pirates. Pirates who dabbled in slavery won't even be taken prisoner; Sjan-dehk would simply fly the red flag of no quarter and slaughter any and all he came across.

Background

The waters of the lowest delta stems from the tallest mountains

attributed to the Kan-soon Book of Songs

Current Occupation: The 4th Lesser Marquis of Jafi; captain of the Sada Kurau

Past Occupation: N/A

Relatives

• Father: Wasun Im-shan, Marquis of Jafi
• Mother: Ohn Sah of Apsha, Lady of Jafi
• 1st Older Brother: Wasun Sai-jom, Lesser Marquis of Jafi
• 2nd Older Brother: Wasun Hara-tahn, 2nd Lesser Marquis of Jafi
• 3rd Older Brother: Wasun Shim-sen, 3rd Lesser Marquis of Jafi
• 1st Younger Sister: Wasun Shi of Jafi
• 2nd Younger Sister: Wasun Idah of Jafi

Skills

• Sailing - rigging, setting sails, etc, etc
• Carpentry - mostly in the realm of repairs
• Navigation - by day and by night
• Naval gunnery - translates well to land gunnery
• Swordsmanship - specifically straight sabres
• Marksmanship - both recurve bow and firelocks

History summary

All beneath the sky and upon the waves have their place, such is the way of Great Harmony

attributed to the Canon of the First Emperor

Every member of the Wasun clan of Jafi has their place. Be it heir, advisor, diplomat, or keeper of the household, their role in the bureaucratic apparatus that kept the march running would have been planned out long before they even quickened in the womb. A masterstroke of long-term planning, if Im-shan dared say so himself. Granted, it was down to pure luck that none of his children had any qualms of their future roles at court and all of them developed qualities beneficial to said roles. It was either that or a testament to the skills of his court tutors.

Sjan-dehk's conception, unexpected as it was, thus proved to be a conundrum. Small as Jafi's court was at the time, there simply weren't any duties left for this fourth son to perform. Of course, there always were lesser positions to fill. Largely managerial and administrative roles that kept the march running on the day-to-day, but Im-shan had no shortage of promising common officials to promote, and who would be very upset should Sjan-dehk be simply dropped into an office they saw as rightly theirs. Putting his own children in positions of his inner court was one thing. Doing the same in the greater court would be asking for an uprising.

With his wife's counsel, Im-shan decided that Sjan-dehk would find his future in the navy. Responsible for the most part of the defense of Viserjanta's western frontiers, Jafi boasted a considerable fleet that could rival the Royal Armada by raw numbers and which was twice as active. An excellent stage for any minor noble with slim chances of peerage to build a name and reputation for himself. If he did well enough, Sjan-dehk might even make admiral by the time Sai-jom became marquis. Even if he were to prove to be a middling sailor, just having a member of the ruling family serving in the navy would be quite the morale booster.

From almost as soon as he could walk, Sjan-dehk was thrust onto the deck of a warship. As a cabin boy, naturally; the lowest post anyone hoping to carve out a naval career could ask for. If his son was to be a sailor under arms, then Im-shan was determined to make him one through and through. There would be no illusions of birthright, no privileges granted over station. Whatever respect and rank Sjan-dehk received would have to be earned the same way as any other sailor - through hard graft, tough work, and time.

For his part, Sjan-dehk took to naval life like a fish to water. Life aboard a rolling deck suited him handsomely. Whether it was mending sails, scrubbing decks, or bringing powder to guns in the heat of battle, he carried out his duties to satisfaction and without complaint. By the tender age of twelve, he was already intimately familiar with the inner workings of a ship from bow to stern and top to keel. Two years later, he earned the sabre of an officer-in-training. One who was rearing to be unleashed on the high seas and upon the Commonwealth's enemies.

That chance came four years later, when dissatisfied nobles launched a rebellion aiming for an imperial restoration. Neutral Jafi attempted to stay out of the conflict, but eventually was forced to choose a side. Throwing its support behind crown and council, Sjan-dehk and the rest of the fleet was sent to campaign against the rebels. Months of intense combat tempered Sjan-dehk into a hardened veteran, but it was only when his initiative and daring proved decisive in the capture of an enemy ship was he promoted to captain. Taking the prize as his command, he renamed it the Sada Kurau and brought it into combat against her former allies.

The war dragged on for five long years. Sjan-dehk proved himself as a capable commander possessing great tactical acumen. As ship after ship fell against him, he used whatever prize money and confiscated loot to re-fit and rearm the Sada Kurau until it was the ship it is today. When the rebels were finally contained on a singular island, Sjan-dehk was sent against the various pirates and slavers who had taken advantage of the turmoil to raid sea lanes and settlements alike. The Sada Kurau soon earned a dubious reputation as a fearsome pirate hunter, but also capable of terrifying savagery against her enemies. Sjan-dehk cared little about such rumours. In fact, he encouraged them; it made his work all the easier if the mere presence of his ship made would-be pirates reconsider their decisions.

With the conclusive end of the war rose a Commonwealth more united than ever. Those who dreamed of a restoration had either been killed or captured in the fighting, or driven in the exile in the immediate aftermath. Crown and court never had more influence in their constituent polities. It was the perfect time to look to other matters. Trade was a top priority, even if only to refill coffers depleted by war.

Caesonia's corner of Eromora had always been known to Viserjantan mariners. In the past, trade there had been limited to the odd merchant willing to risk coin and life to make the long journey. Well, that would soo change. The Commonwealth now sought to make a more permanent arrangement. To facilitate that, they built a massive treasure ship. Only one - the nobility who ultimately had to fund the thing weren't quite as confident about the task at hand as the crown and council.

As for Sjan-dehk, it was hardly his choice to join the Eromoran expedition. He'd much rather continue securing Jafi's waters than follow maps that were at least a decade old to some foreign land. Unfortunately, his mother had persuaded his father to persuade crown and council to have the Sada Kurau attached as an escort. Risky as the mission was, it was no secret that its success would make any man who took part very influential and very rich. Sjan-dehk was a good sailor, a respected captain, and skilled fighter, but he would need a little more than that to truly stand beside his brother as admiral in future.

That was how Sjan-dehk found himself and Sada Kurau bound for Eromora. Whatever personal feelings he had for the mission, he hadn't failed a task given to him before. He surely wasn't about to start.

Q and A

It is a starless night. Pale moonlight filters through heavy, purple clouds. A sure sign of rain, you think. Hopefully your business concludes before the deluge comes. You find the docks quiet save for the distant clamour of rowdy merry-making wafting from a ship a few rows down. Coincidentally, it is the ship you seek. Her sleek hull and tangle of ropes creaks as she bobs in the water, and her lateen sails are neatly furled. Lilting music of pipes and strings, accompanied by slurred songs emanate from its deck. The flickering orange glow of lamps hanging from its yards and masts cast shadows dancing across the woodwork.

"Ah, looking for me, yes?"

The heavily accented voice from behind catches you by surprise. You flinch and turn, papers clutched close to your chest lest they fly away in the landward breeze. Your eyes land on a grinning man. His over-patched clothes have clearly seen better days, and his burgeoning beard at least one or two overdue for a shave. A small cask is tucked beneath his arm and you can hear its contents sloshing from where you stand.

You nod and tell him that yes, you have been looking for him.

"Good timing, no?" He says with a chuckle and strides towards you. "Come, come." Before you can protest, he places a hand on your back and gently ushers you up the gangway onto the deck of his ship. Though you protest and say that you cannot afford time to join in their revelries, one of his crew pulls you around a small cookfire. Another takes the cask from the man. The dangers of an open fire on a wooden ship doesn't escape you, but all the same you are offered a seat on an overturned crate. You say no. The crew look on expectantly. Sjan-dehk - the man you sought - says yes. You sit. A bowl of some strange stew it thrust onto the lap.

"Always best to talk and eat, no?" Sjan-dehk says and those of his crew who understand your tongue nod in assent. They return to their own business. Laughs and music fill the deck. The drawl of strings now take center-stage. "You have questions," the captain says and sits across from you. He opens his arms with a disarming smile. "Ask away."

You suggest somewhere more private. He shakes his head. "No, no. No secrets from my crew," he says. "Anyway, they already know my answers."

You nod and sigh. Better to just get this over and done with. You balance the bowl on one knee while sifting through your papers.

History

Did you grow up nurtured or neglected?

"Nurtured, of course," Sjan-dehk replies quickly enough to make you wonder. His next words confirm to you that he has either misunderstood the question or is pulling your leg. "The sea is an excellent mother, no?"

You clarify yourself. You want to know about his family. The grin he flashes tells you that he knew from the start. "Nurtured and neglected both," he says with neither bitterness nor fondness. "They put me on a ship as early as I can remember. When I went ashore, we spent time together. Mother fussed over me as mothers do, but never stopped me from going back to my ship. Father never spoke business with me. Never showed me favour either. Taught me to earn whatever I received. My brothers and sisters and I joked and played and rarely fought."

He pauses. "So yes, that is nurture, no? And growing up at sea, that is neglect, yes?"

You nod and jot down his answer as quickly as you can. You take a sip of the stew with the wooden spoon the crew provided. It is surprisingly hearty and tasty despite its looks. The meat melts in your mouth with just the right amount of salt and other spices you cannot identify.

When you were upset, where was your sanctuary?

He looks at you as if you asked a question so silly it stuns him. "Here, of course," he says matter-of-factly, as if it were so obvious. You want to tell him that it is not, but you hold your tongue. You tell him that you want to know about his past, not the present. "Still here," he says, then adds slowly, "I grew up on a ship."

You bite on your lip. He is mocking you, but not undeservedly. He did just tell you as much. You clarify further. What about when he was ashore?

He shrugs. "Anywhere I could see the open sea. Calms me."

What were you like in your teenage years?

Even as you ask the question, you can see Sjan-dehk shake his head and look down between his legs. You think he even looks a little sheepish. "A little shit," he says with a mirthless chuckle. "Everyone is an idiot at that age, yes? I think I was more of an idiot than most. Too eager. Too overconfident. Took too many unnecessary risks, gave too many people headaches. Good thing I grew out of it, no?"

You don't know for sure, but you nod in agreement anyway.

How close are you to your parents?

"As close as I am allowed," he says. You arch a brow at him. That's quite the strange answer and immediately you start to ask if there was some tradition or custom that kept parents at arm's length. He holds up a hand to stop you. "No, no, like I said, I spent most of my time on a ship, yes? Hard to get close with the time I spend ashore. A few days at a time at most, but it is my choice. I prefer the sea. Still happy that I am not...How do you say? Estranged? From my family. They understand. They chose this for me, they have to."

Do you have any trauma that haunts you?

The music grows in volume behind you. Now a veritable chorus has erupted around the two of you. You can see Sjan-dehk mouthing the words beneath his breath as you ask your question. He shrugs. "Cannot think of one that sticks out, sorry," he replies a little too quickly for your liking. He is hiding something, you assume with some degree of confidence. You decide to carefully press him for something more concrete. Surely there has to be something?

He shrugs again. "I fought many battles. Saw many things. After a while you stop noticing these things, yes?"

At that, you decide to drop the matter and move on.

What advice would you give your younger self?

"Oh, that is easy," he replies with a smirk. "To not wish to grow up to be this tall. Troublesome beneath decks."

Were you an obedient child or defiant?

His answer is so quick and firm that it almost throws you off your seat. "Obedient," he says, then pauses. With a twinkle in his eye, he adds, "As defiant as I could. Children will be children, no? Punishments on a ship are harsh and teaches discipline very quickly, but it is everyone's nature to be mischievous sometimes, yes? I did what I was told, but when I was idle...Well, I got into trouble more than once."

What about when he was ashore, you ask. He grins. "A little more defiant."

What is your biggest regret?

For but a moment, the mirth disappears from his face and he exhales through his nose as he leans back. "Whenever we are too slow," he says and avoids your gave. The crew seem to sense their captain's turn of mood and their merriment drops to a quiet buzzing murmur. "Sada Kurau is a fast ship, but sometimes not fast enough. You seen before what pirates and slaves do to people? What they leave behind? You will want to be quick enough to catch them if you have."

That doesn't quite answer your question, but you know you have to approach this tactfully. You ask if there is any such incident that stuck with him.

"Years ago," he replies. "Island called for help. Usually it would be too late to do anything. By the time we get the news and set sail it would be already days after the attack, you know? This time we go there, we see the slave ship getting ready to leave. We chased them but they found winds in their favour and against us. Got away. Never saw that ship again. That island likely never saw the people they lost again, too."

At last, he realises the depressed mood of the crew around him. He jumps to his feet and shouts something in their native tongue, one hand raised in a fist and the other thumping his chest. You don't know what he said, but clearly it did something to the crew as they cheer. Mugs of some sort of booze is portioned and handed out. Someone places one at your feet. Sjan-dehk sits back down and looks at you, the grin back on his face. "That is why we train hard and fight hard. Never let it happen again, yes?"

Romance

Have you ever been in love?

You have been dreading this section ever since he teased you a few questions ago. You already have the feeling that you'll get nothing truthful from the man with regards to this subject. Perhaps it would be best to just go through them as quickly. You ask the first question and already you can see Sjan-dehk's grin widen.

"Of course I have," Sjan-dehk replies and gestures to the sea. Why did you see that coming? "Fell in love the moment I felt her salty kiss and rollicking movements."

You sigh and tell him that's not what you meant. He chuckles and nods. "I know, I know." He sounds almost apologetic but you have doubts that he means it. "No, I have not. Never saw a lady that caught my eye, and never had time for that."

What is most important in a partner to you? Describe your dream partner.

He furrows his brow and scratches his jaw. It surprises you that he is even seriously considering his answer, but you decide not to jinx it by saying anything. "Never thought about it," he admits. "Never had an interest enough, but to answer you, I would like someone who does not mind my absence and my ways. If they would sail with me, even better."

The spark of mischief returns to his eyes as he looks at you. "If you meet anyone like that, you tell me, yes?"

How do you display affection? What is your love language?

"Your people do not speak to show affection?" He asks curiously and face earnest. You almost start to explain that you are not speaking literally when he's unable to contain his laughter any further. Your cheeks heat up. You can't tell if it's out of anger or embarrassment. You don't really care. Sjan-dehk raises both hands in front of him. "Sorry, sorry. Could not resist."

You fold your arms and tell him that this would be finished quicker if he would stop joking. "Ah, but we are having a good time, no? Why would I want to finish things so quickly?" He says. "To answer you, I do not know yet. When I find out, I will find you and tell you, yes?"

Have you had your first kiss? What was it like?

You start dreading his response before you even finish the question. As expected, he starts to gesture to the sea but stops when you shoot him a withering glare. He drops his arm. "No, no I have not."

Do you believe in love at first sight? Why or why not?

"Of course I do, I told you-" he begins, but stops himself short. You didn't even need to say anything. Perhaps he's not that mischievous after all. That, or even his mischief has its limits. He leans forward. "I do," he replies softly. The surprise from both his answer and the way he says it almost, again, knocks you off your seat. You ask him to clarify. After everything he has told you, you explain, you have the impression that he cares little for anything related to romance.

"You are right," he confirms with a nod. "But love at first sight, that is a good fantasy, no? Something nice to think about when times are difficult. You imagine, you think, you let your mind drift and suddenly everything feels a little lighter. Please, do not misunderstand. It is not something easily found. Not something I expect to happen. Just a nice fantasy to distract the mind every now and then."

You nod slowly. You think you understand. He believes the fantasy but understands it's not reality.

What does marriage mean to you?

He taps a finger on his chin. "Like dropping anchor from a ship?" He asks with faux-innocence. Now that, that almost makes you laugh but you catch yourself just in time. You collect yourself and tell him that it's not always that bad a prospect. He nods and agrees. "Yes, yes, and we all hope for that for ourselves, but a man like me? Too restrictive. I do not think I would make a good husband, yes? Too much time away."

Are you currently crushing on anyone?

"I think you know the answer by now, no?"

Do you ever consider having children in the future?

He nods and that again catches you off-guard. You hesitantly ask if there's a joke that you're not getting, or some euphemism that's unique to his language. "No, no," he says with a wave of his hand. He grins. "You are learning."

Yes, yes you are. You're unsure if that's a good or bad thing. You repeat your question, hoping to get a bit more elaboration out of him. You are not disappointed. "One day, surely, but that day is very far away. Many things to take care of before then, many things I still want to do and have to achieve, you know? A tree without roots collapses in a stiff wind. A tree that burrows deep before growing tall stands forever."

That last part sounds quite scholarly to your ears. You ask where it comes from. "Records of the Venerable Prince of Sukaya," he replies with a dash of eagerness to his voice. "Very interesting book. A lot of insights from Viserjanta's early days."

You jot that down. You ask what he meant by things to do and achieve. Sjan-dehk waves his hand dismissively. "Oh, just places to see, rank to achieve, and adventures to be had."

The answer is frustratingly vague, but you feel that is all you will get from him and so you move on.

Personality

Describe your ideal Sunday morning

"Calm waters and following winds," he replies with a soft smile gracing his lips. His eyes stare into the dancing flames of the cookfire. "Keeps Sada Kurau moving but not so much that we struggle to keep her sails intact. Gentle enough to give us time to relax but not so much it strands us."

You nod. That was what you expected to hear from him. Still, he continues. "Always a good day when I can just read my books or play my flute without worries, you know? Gives my crew time to unwind. Too much struggle and we all go crazy. Even a sword cannot go from fight to fight without sharpening. Then at night, after we have unwound, we will celebrate like we are now to give thanks for a good day and prepare ourselves for the next."

You ask if that adage about the sword comes from one of his books again. He nods and grins. "I tell you, that Records book is full of nice little sayings like that. Perhaps someday you can ready a translated copy. I would recommend it."

What kind of person do you aspire to be?

"A good captain to my men, a good admiral for my brothers," he replies with a shrug. You decide to clarify a little more. You say that you are not asking about his professional life, but the personal. "Ah," he says, but then shrugs again. "Not sure, really. I think just a good man? Someone who does right by those who deserve it, evil by those who deserve it. Someone just and fair and gives everyone a chance."

You point out that 'evil' contradicts 'good'. He laughs. "Well, maybe not a good man. A fair man?"

You grin a little and nod. You tell him that yes, that would fit a little better.

What bad habits do you have?

"Oh, come now," he says. He sounds almost condescending, but you decide to let it slide until he explains himself. "Just as how the songbird praises not its own voice, you should be asking my crew this question." He leans back and opens his arms. "If you ask me, I would say I have none, no?"

You think about it for a moment and realise you have no real answer to that. Either that, or the revelry is beginning to get to your head. Flickering orange glows mixed with lilting music makes for quite the hypnotic combination.

If you could go back in time and change anything in your past, what would it be?

"Drown captain Javisi when I had the chance." Sjan-dehk's answer is quick and so full of malice you worry for a moment. You ask him to elaborate, but it's clear you didn't have to. He was going to anyway. "Saved his life when I was not yet captain. Went our separate ways when we took command of our ships. We fought on opposite sides of the war." He says and you can see his hands start to clench into fists. For a moment you wonder if you should tell him to just drop the matter, but he carries on before you have a chance to even open your mouth.

"That is not what upsets me, you know? War is war. We fight for our sides, but that bastard turned pirate when we pushed the rebels back to Udama. Vicious one. Killed many, many people. Caught him eventually. Still, could have prevented all that if I just left him to drown." He draws in a deep breath when he finishes. He shakes his head, then looks at you sheepishly. "Sorry, it still angers me when I think about it."

You tell him that it's fine. You want him to be honest, after all.

What is your greatest fear?

"To have the wind taken from my sails," he says. You suppose you should have seen that one coming.

What are your pet peeves?

"Where do I begin?" He says and slaps his knee as he leans back. "People who use their rank to get their way, firstly. Dislike it in officers, dislike it even more in nobles." He scratches his head and furrows his brow for a moment. "An untidy ship. Seen many of those. Good thing my crew knows how to keep Sada Kurau neat. You know the sound of scraping metal? That one drives me crazy. Wet footwraps, now that one I have experienced many times. Never got used to it. Unpleasant every time."

He stops himself and looks at you. "Is that enough?" You nod.

When you are in a sour mood, do you like to be alone or with others?

"A bit of both is healthy," Sjan-dehk replies almost sagely. "Alone to gather your thoughts. Calm down. Get clear sight. Then with people to forget and recover."

Are you more likely to fight with your fists or your tongue?

"A good captain uses both," he says with a grin. "My crew is like family, you know? Which family would want to risk each other unnecessarily? If we can take a ship peacefully, all the better for everyone involved, yes? They get to live, we get to win." You point out that the enemy would lose a lot more in such a deal. Sjan-dehk shakes his head. "No, no. Not unless they see death as a better outcome. We give them chance to surrender. If they take it, good. If not, we destroy them."

The ease with which he said such words rattles you slightly. Still, you suppose it's part of his nature as a warship captain. You decide that your time here is done, but when you stand to leave you feel droplets splash upon your flesh. You look up. The crew looks up. Sjan-dehk looks up. A deluge comes down. The cookfire is quickly extinguished. You try to keep your papers dry by hugging them close. The crew doesn't look concerned as they shuffle below decks.

"Bad luck, no?" Sjan-dehk asks nonchalantly as he stands up. "You should stay and wait out the rain. We continue things below decks. You can join us."

You wonder if you should take up the deal. A peal of thunder roars overhead. Lightning flashes in the distance. You nod yes.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Think I've more or less got it done; anymore and I'd be adding legs to snakes and going in circles. Let me know if it's acceptable!

Wasun Sjan-dehk

Picture Reference

Wasun Sjan-dehk // 25 \\ Male

The 4th Lesser Marquis of Jafi, under the auspices of High Queen Daraya II and the council of electors
Captain of the Sada Kurau

Forget not our forebears

motto of the Wasun of Jafi

Height: 1.78 m / 5'10"
Weight: 65 kg / 143 lbs
Eye Colour: Dark brown
Hair Length: Medium-short / Coarse
Hair Colour: Black
Skin Colour: Tanned
Facial Features:

• Light freckles and sun spots speckled over his nose and cheeks
• A faded scar running down his left cheek, running almost parallel to his jaw

Distinguishing Features:

• A slight mischievous grin that never seems to leave his face
• Discoloured patches on the backs of both hands, from base of thumb to wrist
• Various healed wounds on his arms, legs, and torso

Clothing Preferences: Anything that's loose and allows him freedom of movement. Preferably, he wears the side-fastened, cross-necked tunic favoured by his fellow Viserjantans. Two layers would be worn; a thin inner layer to wick away sweat, and a thicker, coarser outer layer to take the punishment of daily work. If at all possible, the inner shirt would be raw white, and the outer the yellow of the Viserjantan Commonwealth. Similarly, his pants would be loose to the knee. Below that it would be fastened to his shoes with wraps. A conical, straw-woven hat would sit atop his head; lightweight, but offering adequate shade from the sun.

In battle, he would throw a cut-down suit of lamellar armour over his clothes. Cuirass, shortened tassets, and leather gauntlets. The hat would be replaced with something of a similar shape, but hammered from sheet metal.

Likes:

• His ship, the Sada Kurau
• Gentle seas and following winds
• Hunting pirates
• The rush of combat
• Old books, particularly historical texts and poetry
• Woodwind and string music - the sort one might find onboard a ship
• Simply being on the open water

Dislikes:

• The doldrums
• Spending more time than necessary ashore
• Political and courtly intrigue
• Nobles who have all of the pomp but none of the substance
• Roundabout ways of speaking

Sexuality: Straight, for what it's worth. As it stands, he's married to the damn sea.

Hobbies:

• Playing the flute
• Reading - both old and new texts
• Attempting to write music
• Attempting to write poetry
• Fishing
• Sharpening his combat skills - swordsmanship and marksmanship

Life goals/Dreams: Sjan-dehk's didn't choose a goal as much as he was shepherded into one: to be a good future admiral for his brothers. For what it's worth, he has little qualms with this involuntary goal so long as it keeps him at sea.

However, as with everyone else, he does harbour private desires. For him, it is to sail the open seas as an adventurer of sorts; to explore new lands, meet new peoples, and embark on quests of epic proportions that would undoubtedly make a good song or story years down the line. All of that would, of course, involve the Sada Kurau and his crew. There can be no others.

Personality summary: Irreverent | Friendly | Merciless | Loyal | Unrefined | Generous

Anyone who doesn't know better would find it hard to believe that Sjan-dehk possesses any noble blood at all; the ease with which he inserts expletives into his speech and rough manners with regards to most things would - rather aptly - better belong amongst the drunken crew of a ship or a raunchy tavern. Just as well he prefers the two over courtly events which he finds too stuffy and restrained for his liking. You never know a person until they've drunk themselves silly, as he'd put it.

Still, he is an affable enough man. Quick with his laughs and jokes as he is with his coin. His loyalty, however, that one comes much slower, but once gained will make him a stalwart ally. Slights against you would be slights against him. Gods and ancestors help anyone who brings harm to one of his friends. He'd hunt them as eagerly as he hunts pirates. Very much the first man to jump to a friend's defense and last to abandon them in a fight.

However, that doesn't mean he's quick to draw his swords. Any good captain knows it's better to negotiate a peaceable surrender - of the enemy, that is - than to charge in cannons blazing and blades keen. As much as possible, he'll attempt to defuse tensions through words and perhaps even deals. Only when those fail would he show just how much wanton violence he is capable of.

And he is indeed capable of acts of viciousness. Ask any pirate who have had the fortune to run across the Sada Kurau. They will tell you of a voracious crew led by a merciless captain. The lucky ones die in battle. Survivors would either be made to toil for their former victims under threat of death or, if that is not possible, made examples of to dissuade future pirates. Pirates who dabbled in slavery won't even be taken prisoner; Sjan-dehk would simply fly the red flag of no quarter and slaughter any and all he came across.

Background

The waters of the lowest delta stems from the tallest mountains

attributed to the Kan-soon Book of Songs

Current Occupation: The 4th Lesser Marquis of Jafi; captain of the Sada Kurau

Past Occupation: N/A

Relatives

• Father: Wasun Im-shan, Marquis of Jafi
• Mother: Ohn Sah of Apsha, Lady of Jafi
• 1st Older Brother: Wasun Sai-jom, Lesser Marquis of Jafi
• 2nd Older Brother: Wasun Hara-tahn, 2nd Lesser Marquis of Jafi
• 3rd Older Brother: Wasun Shim-sen, 3rd Lesser Marquis of Jafi
• 1st Younger Sister: Wasun Shi of Jafi
• 2nd Younger Sister: Wasun Idah of Jafi

Skills

• Sailing - rigging, setting sails, etc, etc
• Carpentry - mostly in the realm of repairs
• Navigation - by day and by night
• Naval gunnery - translates well to land gunnery
• Swordsmanship - specifically straight sabres
• Marksmanship - both recurve bow and firelocks

History summary

All beneath the sky and upon the waves have their place, such is the way of Great Harmony

attributed to the Canon of the First Emperor

Every member of the Wasun clan of Jafi has their place. Be it heir, advisor, diplomat, or keeper of the household, their role in the bureaucratic apparatus that kept the march running would have been planned out long before they even quickened in the womb. A masterstroke of long-term planning, if Im-shan dared say so himself. Granted, it was down to pure luck that none of his children had any qualms of their future roles at court and all of them developed qualities beneficial to said roles. It was either that or a testament to the skills of his court tutors.

Sjan-dehk's conception, unexpected as it was, thus proved to be a conundrum. Small as Jafi's court was at the time, there simply weren't any duties left for this fourth son to perform. Of course, there always were lesser positions to fill. Largely managerial and administrative roles that kept the march running on the day-to-day, but Im-shan had no shortage of promising common officials to promote, and who would be very upset should Sjan-dehk be simply dropped into an office they saw as rightly theirs. Putting his own children in positions of his inner court was one thing. Doing the same in the greater court would be asking for an uprising.

With his wife's counsel, Im-shan decided that Sjan-dehk would find his future in the navy. Responsible for the most part of the defense of Viserjanta's western frontiers, Jafi boasted a considerable fleet that could rival the Royal Armada by raw numbers and which was twice as active. An excellent stage for any minor noble with slim chances of peerage to build a name and reputation for himself. If he did well enough, Sjan-dehk might even make admiral by the time Sai-jom became marquis. Even if he were to prove to be a middling sailor, just having a member of the ruling family serving in the navy would be quite the morale booster.

From almost as soon as he could walk, Sjan-dehk was thrust onto the deck of a warship. As a cabin boy, naturally; the lowest post anyone hoping to carve out a naval career could ask for. If his son was to be a sailor under arms, then Im-shan was determined to make him one through and through. There would be no illusions of birthright, no privileges granted over station. Whatever respect and rank Sjan-dehk received would have to be earned the same way as any other sailor - through hard graft, tough work, and time.

For his part, Sjan-dehk took to naval life like a fish to water. Life aboard a rolling deck suited him handsomely. Whether it was mending sails, scrubbing decks, or bringing powder to guns in the heat of battle, he carried out his duties to satisfaction and without complaint. By the tender age of twelve, he was already intimately familiar with the inner workings of a ship from bow to stern and top to keel. Two years later, he earned the sabre of an officer-in-training. One who was rearing to be unleashed on the high seas and upon the Commonwealth's enemies.

That chance came four years later, when dissatisfied nobles launched a rebellion aiming for an imperial restoration. Neutral Jafi attempted to stay out of the conflict, but eventually was forced to choose a side. Throwing its support behind crown and council, Sjan-dehk and the rest of the fleet was sent to campaign against the rebels. Months of intense combat tempered Sjan-dehk into a hardened veteran, but it was only when his initiative and daring proved decisive in the capture of an enemy ship was he promoted to captain. Taking the prize as his command, he renamed it the Sada Kurau and brought it into combat against her former allies.

The war dragged on for five long years. Sjan-dehk proved himself as a capable commander possessing great tactical acumen. As ship after ship fell against him, he used whatever prize money and confiscated loot to re-fit and rearm the Sada Kurau until it was the ship it is today. When the rebels were finally contained on a singular island, Sjan-dehk was sent against the various pirates and slavers who had taken advantage of the turmoil to raid sea lanes and settlements alike. The Sada Kurau soon earned a dubious reputation as a fearsome pirate hunter, but also capable of terrifying savagery against her enemies. Sjan-dehk cared little about such rumours. In fact, he encouraged them; it made his work all the easier if the mere presence of his ship made would-be pirates reconsider their decisions.

With the conclusive end of the war rose a Commonwealth more united than ever. Those who dreamed of a restoration had either been killed or captured in the fighting, or driven in the exile in the immediate aftermath. Crown and court never had more influence in their constituent polities. It was the perfect time to look to other matters. Trade was a top priority, even if only to refill coffers depleted by war.

Eromora was the furthest region of the world known to Viserjantan mariners. In the past, trade there had been limited to the odd merchant willing to risk coin and life to make the long journey. Well, that would soo change. The Commonwealth now sought to make a more permanent arrangement. To facilitate that, they built a massive treasure ship. Only one - the nobility who ultimately had to fund the thing weren't quite as confident about the task at hand as the crown and council.

As for Sjan-dehk, it was hardly his choice to join the Eromoran expedition. He'd much rather continue securing Jafi's waters than follow maps that were at least a decade old to some foreign land. Unfortunately, his mother had persuaded his father to persuade crown and council to have the Sada Kurau attached as an escort. Risky as the mission was, it was no secret that its success would make any man who took part very influential and very rich. Sjan-dehk was a good sailor, a respected captain, and skilled fighter, but he would need a little more than that to truly stand beside his brother as admiral in future.

That was how Sjan-dehk found himself and Sada Kurau bound for Eromora. Whatever personal feelings he had for the mission, he hadn't failed a task given to him before. He surely wasn't about to start.

Q and A

It is a starless night. Pale moonlight filters through heavy, purple clouds. A sure sign of rain, you think. Hopefully your business concludes before the deluge comes. You find the docks quiet save for the distant clamour of rowdy merry-making wafting from a ship a few rows down. Coincidentally, it is the ship you seek. Her sleek hull and tangle of ropes creaks as she bobs in the water, and her lateen sails are neatly furled. Lilting music of pipes and strings, accompanied by slurred songs emanate from its deck. The flickering orange glow of lamps hanging from its yards and masts cast shadows dancing across the woodwork.

"Ah, looking for me, yes?"

The heavily accented voice from behind catches you by surprise. You flinch and turn, papers clutched close to your chest lest they fly away in the landward breeze. Your eyes land on a grinning man. His over-patched clothes have clearly seen better days, and his burgeoning beard at least one or two overdue for a shave. A small cask is tucked beneath his arm and you can hear its contents sloshing from where you stand.

You nod and tell him that yes, you have been looking for him.

"Good timing, no?" He says with a chuckle and strides towards you. "Come, come." Before you can protest, he places a hand on your back and gently ushers you up the gangway onto the deck of his ship. Though you protest and say that you cannot afford time to join in their revelries, one of his crew pulls you around a small cookfire. Another takes the cask from the man. The dangers of an open fire on a wooden ship doesn't escape you, but all the same you are offered a seat on an overturned crate. You say no. The crew look on expectantly. Sjan-dehk - the man you sought - says yes. You sit. A bowl of some strange stew it thrust onto the lap.

"Always best to talk and eat, no?" Sjan-dehk says and those of his crew who understand your tongue nod in assent. They return to their own business. Laughs and music fill the deck. The drawl of strings now take center-stage. "You have questions," the captain says and sits across from you. He opens his arms with a disarming smile. "Ask away."

You suggest somewhere more private. He shakes his head. "No, no. No secrets from my crew," he says. "Anyway, they already know my answers."

You nod and sigh. Better to just get this over and done with. You balance the bowl on one knee while sifting through your papers.

History

Did you grow up nurtured or neglected?

"Nurtured, of course," Sjan-dehk replies quickly enough to make you wonder. His next words confirm to you that he has either misunderstood the question or is pulling your leg. "The sea is an excellent mother, no?"

You clarify yourself. You want to know about his family. The grin he flashes tells you that he knew from the start. "Nurtured and neglected both," he says with neither bitterness nor fondness. "They put me on a ship as early as I can remember. When I went ashore, we spent time together. Mother fussed over me as mothers do, but never stopped me from going back to my ship. Father never spoke business with me. Never showed me favour either. Taught me to earn whatever I received. My brothers and sisters and I joked and played and rarely fought."

He pauses. "So yes, that is nurture, no? And growing up at sea, that is neglect, yes?"

You nod and jot down his answer as quickly as you can. You take a sip of the stew with the wooden spoon the crew provided. It is surprisingly hearty and tasty despite its looks. The meat melts in your mouth with just the right amount of salt and other spices you cannot identify.

When you were upset, where was your sanctuary?

He looks at you as if you asked a question so silly it stuns him. "Here, of course," he says matter-of-factly, as if it were so obvious. You want to tell him that it is not, but you hold your tongue. You tell him that you want to know about his past, not the present. "Still here," he says, then adds slowly, "I grew up on a ship."

You bite on your lip. He is mocking you, but not undeservedly. He did just tell you as much. You clarify further. What about when he was ashore?

He shrugs. "Anywhere I could see the open sea. Calms me."

What were you like in your teenage years?

Even as you ask the question, you can see Sjan-dehk shake his head and look down between his legs. You think he even looks a little sheepish. "A little shit," he says with a mirthless chuckle. "Everyone is an idiot at that age, yes? I think I was more of an idiot than most. Too eager. Too overconfident. Took too many unnecessary risks, gave too many people headaches. Good thing I grew out of it, no?"

You don't know for sure, but you nod in agreement anyway.

How close are you to your parents?

"As close as I am allowed," he says. You arch a brow at him. That's quite the strange answer and immediately you start to ask if there was some tradition or custom that kept parents at arm's length. He holds up a hand to stop you. "No, no, like I said, I spent most of my time on a ship, yes? Hard to get close with the time I spend ashore. A few days at a time at most, but it is my choice. I prefer the sea. Still happy that I am not...How do you say? Estranged? From my family. They understand. They chose this for me, they have to."

Do you have any trauma that haunts you?

The music grows in volume behind you. Now a veritable chorus has erupted around the two of you. You can see Sjan-dehk mouthing the words beneath his breath as you ask your question. He shrugs. "Cannot think of one that sticks out, sorry," he replies a little too quickly for your liking. He is hiding something, you assume with some degree of confidence. You decide to carefully press him for something more concrete. Surely there has to be something?

He shrugs again. "I fought many battles. Saw many things. After a while you stop noticing these things, yes?"

At that, you decide to drop the matter and move on.

What advice would you give your younger self?

"Oh, that is easy," he replies with a smirk. "To not wish to grow up to be this tall. Troublesome beneath decks."

Were you an obedient child or defiant?

His answer is so quick and firm that it almost throws you off your seat. "Obedient," he says, then pauses. With a twinkle in his eye, he adds, "As defiant as I could. Children will be children, no? Punishments on a ship are harsh and teaches discipline very quickly, but it is everyone's nature to be mischievous sometimes, yes? I did what I was told, but when I was idle...Well, I got into trouble more than once."

What about when he was ashore, you ask. He grins. "A little more defiant."

What is your biggest regret?

For but a moment, the mirth disappears from his face and he exhales through his nose as he leans back. "Whenever we are too slow," he says and avoids your gave. The crew seem to sense their captain's turn of mood and their merriment drops to a quiet buzzing murmur. "Sada Kurau is a fast ship, but sometimes not fast enough. You seen before what pirates and slaves do to people? What they leave behind? You will want to be quick enough to catch them if you have."

That doesn't quite answer your question, but you know you have to approach this tactfully. You ask if there is any such incident that stuck with him.

"Years ago," he replies. "Island called for help. Usually it would be too late to do anything. By the time we get the news and set sail it would be already days after the attack, you know? This time we go there, we see the slave ship getting ready to leave. We chased them but they found winds in their favour and against us. Got away. Never saw that ship again. That island likely never saw the people they lost again, too."

At last, he realises the depressed mood of the crew around him. He jumps to his feet and shouts something in their native tongue, one hand raised in a fist and the other thumping his chest. You don't know what he said, but clearly it did something to the crew as they cheer. Mugs of some sort of booze is portioned and handed out. Someone places one at your feet. Sjan-dehk sits back down and looks at you, the grin back on his face. "That is why we train hard and fight hard. Never let it happen again, yes?"

Romance

Have you ever been in love?

You have been dreading this section ever since he teased you a few questions ago. You already have the feeling that you'll get nothing truthful from the man with regards to this subject. Perhaps it would be best to just go through them as quickly. You ask the first question and already you can see Sjan-dehk's grin widen.

"Of course I have," Sjan-dehk replies and gestures to the sea. Why did you see that coming? "Fell in love the moment I felt her salty kiss and rollicking movements."

You sigh and tell him that's not what you meant. He chuckles and nods. "I know, I know." He sounds almost apologetic but you have doubts that he means it. "No, I have not. Never saw a lady that caught my eye, and never had time for that."

What is most important in a partner to you? Describe your dream partner.

He furrows his brow and scratches his jaw. It surprises you that he is even seriously considering his answer, but you decide not to jinx it by saying anything. "Never thought about it," he admits. "Never had an interest enough, but to answer you, I would like someone who does not mind my absence and my ways. If they would sail with me, even better."

The spark of mischief returns to his eyes as he looks at you. "If you meet anyone like that, you tell me, yes?"

How do you display affection? What is your love language?

"Your people do not speak to show affection?" He asks curiously and face earnest. You almost start to explain that you are not speaking literally when he's unable to contain his laughter any further. Your cheeks heat up. You can't tell if it's out of anger or embarrassment. You don't really care. Sjan-dehk raises both hands in front of him. "Sorry, sorry. Could not resist."

You fold your arms and tell him that this would be finished quicker if he would stop joking. "Ah, but we are having a good time, no? Why would I want to finish things so quickly?" He says. "To answer you, I do not know yet. When I find out, I will find you and tell you, yes?"

Have you had your first kiss? What was it like?

You start dreading his response before you even finish the question. As expected, he starts to gesture to the sea but stops when you shoot him a withering glare. He drops his arm. "No, no I have not."

Do you believe in love at first sight? Why or why not?

"Of course I do, I told you-" he begins, but stops himself short. You didn't even need to say anything. Perhaps he's not that mischievous after all. That, or even his mischief has its limits. He leans forward. "I do," he replies softly. The surprise from both his answer and the way he says it almost, again, knocks you off your seat. You ask him to clarify. After everything he has told you, you explain, you have the impression that he cares little for anything related to romance.

"You are right," he confirms with a nod. "But love at first sight, that is a good fantasy, no? Something nice to think about when times are difficult. You imagine, you think, you let your mind drift and suddenly everything feels a little lighter. Please, do not misunderstand. It is not something easily found. Not something I expect to happen. Just a nice fantasy to distract the mind every now and then."

You nod slowly. You think you understand. He believes the fantasy but understands it's not reality.

What does marriage mean to you?

He taps a finger on his chin. "Like dropping anchor from a ship?" He asks with faux-innocence. Now that, that almost makes you laugh but you catch yourself just in time. You collect yourself and tell him that it's not always that bad a prospect. He nods and agrees. "Yes, yes, and we all hope for that for ourselves, but a man like me? Too restrictive. I do not think I would make a good husband, yes? Too much time away."

Are you currently crushing on anyone?

"I think you know the answer by now, no?"

Do you ever consider having children in the future?

He nods and that again catches you off-guard. You hesitantly ask if there's a joke that you're not getting, or some euphemism that's unique to his language. "No, no," he says with a wave of his hand. He grins. "You are learning."

Yes, yes you are. You're unsure if that's a good or bad thing. You repeat your question, hoping to get a bit more elaboration out of him. You are not disappointed. "One day, surely, but that day is very far away. Many things to take care of before then, many things I still want to do and have to achieve, you know? A tree without roots collapses in a stiff wind. A tree that burrows deep before growing tall stands forever."

That last part sounds quite scholarly to your ears. You ask where it comes from. "Records of the Venerable Prince of Sukaya," he replies with a dash of eagerness to his voice. "Very interesting book. A lot of insights from Viserjanta's early days."

You jot that down. You ask what he meant by things to do and achieve. Sjan-dehk waves his hand dismissively. "Oh, just places to see, rank to achieve, and adventures to be had."

The answer is frustratingly vague, but you feel that is all you will get from him and so you move on.

Personality

Describe your ideal Sunday morning

"Calm waters and following winds," he replies with a soft smile gracing his lips. His eyes stare into the dancing flames of the cookfire. "Keeps Sada Kurau moving but not so much that we struggle to keep her sails intact. Gentle enough to give us time to relax but not so much it strands us."

You nod. That was what you expected to hear from him. Still, he continues. "Always a good day when I can just read my books or play my flute without worries, you know? Gives my crew time to unwind. Too much struggle and we all go crazy. Even a sword cannot go from fight to fight without sharpening. Then at night, after we have unwound, we will celebrate like we are now to give thanks for a good day and prepare ourselves for the next."

You ask if that adage about the sword comes from one of his books again. He nods and grins. "I tell you, that Records book is full of nice little sayings like that. Perhaps someday you can ready a translated copy. I would recommend it."

What kind of person do you aspire to be?

"A good captain to my men, a good admiral for my brothers," he replies with a shrug. You decide to clarify a little more. You say that you are not asking about his professional life, but the personal. "Ah," he says, but then shrugs again. "Not sure, really. I think just a good man? Someone who does right by those who deserve it, evil by those who deserve it. Someone just and fair and gives everyone a chance."

You point out that 'evil' contradicts 'good'. He laughs. "Well, maybe not a good man. A fair man?"

You grin a little and nod. You tell him that yes, that would fit a little better.

What bad habits do you have?

"Oh, come now," he says. He sounds almost condescending, but you decide to let it slide until he explains himself. "Just as how the songbird praises not its own voice, you should be asking my crew this question." He leans back and opens his arms. "If you ask me, I would say I have none, no?"

You think about it for a moment and realise you have no real answer to that. Either that, or the revelry is beginning to get to your head. Flickering orange glows mixed with lilting music makes for quite the hypnotic combination.

If you could go back in time and change anything in your past, what would it be?

"Drown captain Javisi when I had the chance." Sjan-dehk's answer is quick and so full of malice you worry for a moment. You ask him to elaborate, but it's clear you didn't have to. He was going to anyway. "Saved his life when I was not yet captain. Went our separate ways when we took command of our ships. We fought on opposite sides of the war." He says and you can see his hands start to clench into fists. For a moment you wonder if you should tell him to just drop the matter, but he carries on before you have a chance to even open your mouth.

"That is not what upsets me, you know? War is war. We fight for our sides, but that bastard turned pirate when we pushed the rebels back to Udama. Vicious one. Killed many, many people. Caught him eventually. Still, could have prevented all that if I just left him to drown." He draws in a deep breath when he finishes. He shakes his head, then looks at you sheepishly. "Sorry, it still angers me when I think about it."

You tell him that it's fine. You want him to be honest, after all.

What is your greatest fear?

"To have the wind taken from my sails," he says. You suppose you should have seen that one coming.

What are your pet peeves?

"Where do I begin?" He says and slaps his knee as he leans back. "People who use their rank to get their way, firstly. Dislike it in officers, dislike it even more in nobles." He scratches his head and furrows his brow for a moment. "An untidy ship. Seen many of those. Good thing my crew knows how to keep Sada Kurau neat. You know the sound of scraping metal? That one drives me crazy. Wet footwraps, now that one I have experienced many times. Never got used to it. Unpleasant every time."

He stops himself and looks at you. "Is that enough?" You nod.

When you are in a sour mood, do you like to be alone or with others?

"A bit of both is healthy," Sjan-dehk replies almost sagely. "Alone to gather your thoughts. Calm down. Get clear sight. Then with people to forget and recover."

Are you more likely to fight with your fists or your tongue?

"A good captain uses both," he says with a grin. "My crew is like family, you know? Which family would want to risk each other unnecessarily? If we can take a ship peacefully, all the better for everyone involved, yes? They get to live, we get to win." You point out that the enemy would lose a lot more in such a deal. Sjan-dehk shakes his head. "No, no. Not unless they see death as a better outcome. We give them chance to surrender. If they take it, good. If not, we destroy them."

The ease with which he said such words rattles you slightly. Still, you suppose it's part of his nature as a warship captain. You decide that your time here is done, but when you stand to leave you feel droplets splash upon your flesh. You look up. The crew looks up. Sjan-dehk looks up. A deluge comes down. The cookfire is quickly extinguished. You try to keep your papers dry by hugging them close. The crew doesn't look concerned as they shuffle below decks.

"Bad luck, no?" Sjan-dehk asks nonchalantly as he stands up. "You should stay and wait out the rain. We continue things below decks. You can join us."

You wonder if you should take up the deal. A peal of thunder roars overhead. Lightning flashes in the distance. You nod yes.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

@Apex Sunburn hey im always up for another family member for roman he has a lot of family and the names are up for change if you want. the Ravenwood family are craftsmen and merchants at heart.

@ReusableSword

Ah, damn, I already drafted my character to be a maritime trader of sorts ;;. I appreciate the offer, though! If this character falls through, I'll be sure to keep that in mind.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

<Snipped quote by Apex Sunburn>

This is a fantasy world that def goes post-industrial. We are casually picking and choosing what it features. You can be from a faraway land; I plan on eventually expanding map, but I am not going to delve into faraway lands or build upon them yet for the sake of simplicity.

I want to remind you that this has a heavy focus on romance/drama with twinkles of mystery and magic. Does your idea fit into this realm ? Let us know if you were perceiving the story differently.

Transportation:
- Trains
- Horse Carriages
- Hot Air Balloons
- Ships/Steamboats
Home Necessities:
- Fridge contraption known as Ice Box
- Plumbing
- Lighting
What else?
- Old Camera with Tent (camera obscura)
- Typewriters
- Muskets/older style guns

@princess

@Apex Sunburnheya discord is a bit easier to get all your questions answered, and we are really cool about newcomers joining to ask questions. BUUUT If you prefer this way I’ll boop princess and potter for you.

I can say there are muskets. there are trains and type writers and steam engines. It’s a Victorian age fantasy. So not everything is exactly historical if you get what I mean.

And no they don’t have to be, I believe we have one person who isn’t from any of the set kingdoms, but that’s a question for princess.

We do have a merchant/ lesser nobleman right now. @ReusableSword So you might want to ask if he’s ok with a similar character.

Hope you stay interested!

@Heartfillia

Thanks for the clarification!

Yes, I understand that this RP is heavier on drama; I'm not going to/planning on starting independent sub-plots unnecessarily. What I had in mind was to play a character who's either on the sidelines or interacts with established plotlines in some capacity for now...And I just realised I have essentially described roleplaying. I had some fun playing pretty much an NPC in a similar RP years ago - though back then I was too much of an NPC, so I'll be avoiding any behaviour/character traits that'll make them too passive.

Tech-wise, I wasn't expecting something historical, but the vibes I was getting from this was akin to regency/enlightenment era Europe, so I just wanted to be sure. Thanks for letting me know!

And I'll look over the CSes again to make sure I don't make a character too similar; I'll edit and adjust what I have in plan accordingly. It's still pretty vague and fluid, so I shouldn't have any problem doing so.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Hi! Thought I'd drop by and express tentative interest before joining the Discord; would hate to pop in and pop out again if my idea falls through. Just in case I missed anything, this RP is pre-industrial, yes? Does that mean no muskets or any sort of gunpowder technology? As of now, I have a lesser noble/merchantman character in mind and it'd help me describe their vessel if it comes to it.

Also, does the character have to be from the map, or can we go beyond map borders? I was thinking of a lesser noble from a faraway land on a trade mission (maybe with an agenda of their own). If necessary, I can do up maps of the region myself.