Apex Sunburn

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Interactions: Kalliope @Tae
Mentions:
Time: 1700 - 1800

Peaceful rivers. Soaring mountains. Lovers beneath peach blossoms. Ships lost amidst storms. Sjan-dehk had always been amazed by how simple black ink brushed upon white silk could so vividly depict scenes of such variety. The strokes were wild and free, with rough edges and fading trails. Yet, their graceful turns and elegant flourishes were masterful displays of control and restraint. Their details were sparse and their colours non-existent, but it was only with such austerity did the intricacies of their portrayals become all the more apparent.

Truly, any one of the paintings Sjan-dehk looked at was fit for a palace.

But he wasn’t in one. Instead, the polished walls of lacquered wood the silk canvases hung from were part of the Sudah’s lavishly designed interior. Even though Sjan-dehk knew that the shipwrights had designed her with the express intention of impressing visitors, he was still amazed by the sheer lengths they went to achieve just that. Timber from Jafi; sails from Kadapo; metalworks from Nak Sidan; paintings from Ai-kai, it was as if they had scoured every region of the Commonwealth for their best works and hammered them together into the Sudah.

Sjan-dehk stopped in front of a painting of a blooming flower. He crossed his arms, resting the elbow of his left on the hand of his right as he scratched his chin. Truth be told, he didn’t like the Sudah as much as her designers had likely hoped. She was a fine – albeit slow – ship, sure, but she was also a little too made up for his tastes. Too much of a yacht for show and too little of an adventurer for exploration. But now that he was – and had been for a while – waiting to see Lady Adiyan, he could at least appreciate that there were things to see and take his mind away from the boredom.

“Taking an interest in art appreciation? I’m surprised, provincial. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

The woman’s voice, playful and teasing, came out of nowhere, but Sjan-dehk had been expecting – even waiting – for it. A small grin tugged on his lips. “Took you long enough,” he said to an empty corridor as he continued to study the painting. “I was starting to think that you weren’t actually here.”

Then, he turned around. What had once been an empty space between paintings was now taken up by a woman who rested her back against the wall. A cheeky smirk graced her elfin, sun-kissed face, and her eyes sparkled with a sort of mischief that was familiar to Sjan-dehk. “As if I’d miss a chance to mess with you,” she replied as she adjusted the pins holding her bun of dark hair in place. “Or try to, at least. Can’t say I’m not impressed, provincial. How’d you know I was there?”

Sjan-dehk shrugged and leaned his back against the wall. “It’s as you say. As if you’d miss a chance to try to get one over me, but I guess I’m too sharp for you. And stop with the ‘provincial’ gull-dung. You’re one as much as me, and you know it.”

The woman pushed herself off the wall and leaned over to wag a finger in Sjan-dehk’s face. “The east had courts and scholars when the Jafins were still pirates,” she said in a sing-song voice. Had it been anyone else who had said that, Sjan-dehk would’ve found it reason enough to start a fight. From her, however? He simply chuckled and looked back at her with defiance in his eyes.

“Courts and scholars poisoned Viserjanta. Jafin ‘pirates’ saved it.”

“You got me there,” the woman said with neither disappointment nor resentment in her words. Instead, she stood next to Sjan-dehk and looked down the corridor. “The Lady of Wise Counsel’s still waylaid by all the doctor’s lining up to stuff her with medicines and herbs and all that nonsense. Shouldn’t take too long, but you never know with these smart types, no?”

Sjan-dehk clicked his tongue. “Your lady’s got more shot and shrapnel in her than a canister, Iyen.”

“Ah, she’s survived worse.”

“She might lose a leg.”

“Shame about that, but still, she’s alive. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”

There wasn’t much Sjan-dehk could say in response to that. Iyen did have a point. Losing a limb was not at all a pleasant experience by any stretch of the imagination; Sjan-dehk couldn’t even begin to imagine what it’d feel like. But it was probably far better than losing one’s entire life. At least, that was what he had gathered from his few conversations with Sahm-tehn on the subject. Granted, the man had answered with the dry and sardonic attitude he had towards most things.

Iyen was right about the other thing as well. Lady Adiyan had survived far worse. Sjan-dehk knew that as a fact; he had been there with her for at least a handful of those incidents. They – along with Iyen who had been Lady Adiyan’s personal guard as she still was – had fought alongside one another during the various campaigns to recapture, pacify, and liberate the scattered and isolated smaller western islands. Compared to the injuries they had suffered during those violent years, catching a few pieces of metal in her side was probably nothing.

So there really was no reason for Sjan-dehk to worry. But still, worry he did.

“It’s still a leg,” he muttered.

Iyen’s shoulders sagged, and she dipped her head. “It is, isn’t it?” She sounded far away, as if her physical body and mind had separated. For a while afterwards, she said nothing. The sounds of creaking wood and muffled construction from the decks below punctuated the uncomfortable silence. Eventually, she drew in a deep breath and spoke once more. “You know, if I’d been a little faster, or if I’d seen the bastards–”

“Oh no, you’re not going down this road.” Sjan-dehk held up a hand in front of her. “All it does is make you feel like gull-dung. We had what we had and we did what we could. Sometimes it works out. Just our poor fucking luck that it didn’t this time.” He turned to look at her with a grin that probably looked as forced as it felt to him. “Besides, are you really trying to tell me you can outrun a cannon shot? That’s a fucking stupid idea you fucking know it.”

That got a soft laugh out of Iyen. “Who knows? I’ve had some pretty lucky things happen.” She dragged a finger over the thin, braided rope wrapped across her body and around her waist, as if deep in thought. “I suppose I should thank you, by the way. For taking out the sneaky little fucker. I saw it all happen from the top deck and I’ve to say, that was some fine sailing and shooting.”

Sjan-dehk shrugged. “I can’t take all the credit. Azwan was commanding the guns and Sahm-tehn was on the sails, as usual. All I did was shout really loudly.”

“Just take the damn compliment, provincial.”

The soft rattle of a door sliding open interrupted their conversation. Further down the corridor, a man who had clearly seen far better days stepped out of a room. His robes were in disarray, and his carefully pinned top-knot on the verge of falling apart. A rattan basket hung from one arm, and beneath the other, he held a rolled up sheet. “The Lady of Wise Counsel is ready to see you,” he called out. His words were punctuated by pants. “Please do not take too much time. I have given her strong analgesics which should lull her to sleep in short order.”

“We hear you loud and clear, doctor,” Iyen replied with a wave. To Sjan-dehk, she said, “Guess we’ll have to chat later. Shouldn’t keep the Lady waiting for too long. She’s been asking after you since we pulled into harbour.”

“Hopefully for good reasons,” Sjan-dehk commented as he pushed himself off the wall.

Iyen laughed. “You? It’s a toss-up, really. I’ll be hanging around outside if you need me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Might need it if she starts trying to get up and about.” With that, Sjan-dehk continued down the corridor. Not for the first time since boarding the Sudah, he wondered why Lady Adiyan had sent for him. As far as he knew, she had been confined to her quarters ever since that action in the mist. Surely she didn’t know that he’d taken the liberty of exploring the city? Or perhaps one of her people had heard something when Avek and Mursi came aboard the Sudah seeking gifts for the King’s representatives. That seemed to be the most likely case. Then again, it was also possible that the royal tutor had approached her about Sjan-dehk’s shortcomings with regards to a royal audience, and Lady Adiyan wanted to set him straight herself.

Either way, whatever possibilities he conjured in his mind didn’t matter. He’d find out the real reason soon enough.

Sjan-dehk quietly slid the door shut behind him, then immediately greeted her the same way he had with King Edin, albeit with a lot less reluctance and more sincerity. He knelt and bowed at the waist, both hands wrapped over one another before him and thumbs interlocked. “Lady of Wise Counsel, Voice of the High Queen. Captain Wasun Sjan-dehk of the Sada Kurau, and Fourth Lesser Marquis of Jafi stands before you, as ordered.”

“No need for that. Stand up and come here.”

The short response wasn’t anything Sjan-dehk hadn’t expected. Lady Adiyan had always been the sort to eskew as many rites and ceremonies as possible. Even so, and despite his own aversion towards courtly ways, it just didn’t feel right to him to be overly-casual in her presence.

“As you say,” he replied simply and rose to his feet. As with the rest of the Sudah, the room had been built to be fit for a noble of any stripe. It was easily twice as large as his quarters aboard his Sada Kurau, with a ceiling high enough to make any sailor envious. Lanterns of waxed paper hung from the ceiling, bathing the mural-covered walls in a warm glow. Opulent rugs and masterfully carved furniture filled the empty spaces in the corners and middle of the room.

And directly across, situated under a long painting of birds in flight, was a bed. Layers of soft cotton and shimmering silk swaddled the woman seated on it. Even from a distance, she looked sickly. Her naturally dark complexion had paled to a sandy brown, and sweat glued strands of matted hair to her cheeks and forehead. Every laboured breath heaved her shoulders. “Please, sit,” she said and gestured to a chair by her side with an arm. Even that little movement seemed to drain her strength.

Sjan-dehk nodded and crossed the room. As he approached, he noticed the open books and ledgers on the bed beside her. He also noticed the outline of only one leg stretched out before her. An involuntary wince flashed across his face. It didn’t go unnoticed by Adiyan. “You’ve seen far worse, I’m sure.”

For a moment, he said nothing, and when he opened his mouth, he could only say the single thought that ran through his mind. “We should’ve acted quicker.” He barely noticed the words tumbling from his tongue in a slurred mess. When he finally did notice, it only served to embarrass him. So much for that little talk he’d only just given to Iyen.

“We’ll have none of that,” Lady Adiyan said with a wave of her hand. “Least of all from you, Shanya.” Her use of that name gave Sjan-dehk pause. Outside of his family, he could count on one hand the number of people he allowed to address him in that manner. Lady Adiyan and Iyen were two of them. “That you could bring your Sada Kurau to our aid with such haste is already laudable enough. What more could you have done? Seen the future? Control the winds to propel your ship faster?”

Sjan-dehk sighed and sat down. “I wish I could do all that, but no.”

Adiyan reached across to gently pat his forearm and looked at him with a motherly smile. “Then you did all you could, and for that I thank you, captain.” She held his gaze for a moment, then pulled her hand back to her lap. Whatever warmth she had on her face and in her words instantly disappeared. “So let’s not speak of such matters. I trust you understand why I’ve called you here?”

“I’m not sure I do,” Sjan-dehk confessed. “If it’s about the meeting with the King, I was going to write you a report at the end of the day.”

“That’s part of it, yes,” Lady Adiyan confirmed with a nod. “And yes, a report would have sufficed, but I’ve also been reliably informed that you took leave of your ship to explore the city.” She flicked her gaze down, towards her leg. “As you can see, I’m hardly in a state to move, and I doubt the doctors would even allow me to try for at least the rest of the week. And yet, there is still work to do, and I cannot do that work if I’m deaf and blind to my surroundings beyond this ship.”

Things quickly clicked in Sjan-dehk’s head. “Ah, so you just want me to tell you about the city?”

“In so few words, yes.”

Sjan-dehk could feel the load lifting from his shoulders. It wasn’t an easy task, but it was at least one that he had done some preparation for. And so he wasted no time, and launched into a retelling of his exploits and experiences in the Caesonian capital thus far. He started from the strange matchmaking session, and focused on the King’s – in his opinion, he made it clear – overblown reaction to a mere onion. Of course, that meant he had to touch on the prince who decided to eat it raw in court. Then he moved on to how he discovered that not only had Alidasht sent their own representatives to the city, but there was also a third power – Roman’s homeland, of which the name Sjan-dehk had unfortunately forgotten – present. He also detailed what he had seen of the city, from the clean and pristine streets around the castle to the dirt paths and grimey buildings of the slums and Aislin’s little fishing village.

All the while, Lady Adiyan said nothing, only offering the occasional nod and furrowing of her brows as her only reactions. She also picked up her brush to scrawl rough notes in one of her books every so often, but not once while Sjan-dehk spoke did she interrupt.

“So,” she began a few moments after Sjan-dehk finished. “It seems like you’ve made some connections.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way, to be honest.”

Lady Adiyan ignored his response. “How fortuitous that everyone that we hope to meet in the region have all gathered here in one city. This is an opportunity we cannot allow to slip from our grasp. Do your best to make contact with Alidasht’s people, and this Roman…What do you think of him?”

Sjan-dehk took his time to formulate his response. He hadn’t known the giant long enough to give a proper answer – or at least one he thought proper – and so he simply gave his honest opinion. “He seems to be like one of us. A man who’s seen battle and knows the cost of war. I’d take his words at face value, that he just wants trade between our nations. Can’t speak for his lieges or whatnot, though. Haven’t met them.”

“Good answer,” Lady Adiyan said with a nod. “See if you can find out if his lieges are in the city.”

“I will likely see at least one of their princesses at the park later. I’ve a debt to pay.”

A ghost of a smile told Sjan-dehk all he needed to know about how Lady Adiyan felt about that. “Very, very good. I will admit, I was worried about making you our representative, but you’re making yourself quite the diplomat, indeed.” His face flushed at the compliment, but he kept his face otherwise impassive as Lady Adiyan continued outlining her plans. “We will prioritise Alidasht and this new nation for now. Caesonia, on the other hand…It requires more thought.”

More thought? What else was there to think about? Sjan-dehk furrowed his brows. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“From what you’ve told me, and I do trust your judgement, this King Edin might not be the best person for us to negotiate with.” Lady Adiyan’s expression turned dark for a moment, but she quickly cleared it away with a slight shake of her head. “It may be…Improper of me to say so, but what you describe sounds very close to people whom we have faced before in the past.”

Sjan-dehk nodded solemnly. “No, I understand perfectly.” King Edin was nowhere near as terrible or evil as some of the wayward and self-proclaimed nobles he’d fought, but the similarities were there. The same sort of temperament, the same proclivities, the same sort of demeanour. “Far better for us to dawdle and be safe than to befriend a wicked king, yes?”

“Let’s not use such words to describe our host, Shanya. He sounds like a character, but I shan’t use the word ‘wicked’ yet. Not until I see him for myself.” Lady Adiyan chided, but nodded anyway. “In any case, our archivists may have discovered another person with whom we could discuss trade.”

It took all of Sjan-dehk’s self-control not to groan with frustration. “With respect, are you talking about the same archivists who got us lost at sea for months?”

Lady Adiyan opened her mouth to respond, but a yawn interrupted her. She blinked several times, and it was clear that she was finding it harder and harder to keep her eyes open. “I know you have your opinions of them, but please try to trust them this time.” Her words became more and more slurred and sluggish as she went on. Even so, she pushed on. “There was a fairly big name amongst traders back then. We don’t know much beyond their name.”

“Just give it to me. I’ll make sure I find them.”

“Wey-kan-ya,” Lady Adiyan said, then yawned again. “It should be Vikena in the local tongue.”

The name sounded familiar to Sjan-dehk, but he couldn’t quite place where he had heard it before. It didn’t matter now. He could deal with the search later. For now, he just needed to end things quickly and let Lady Adiyan have her rest. “If they left any descendents, I’ll sniff them out. Bastards and all. I can assure you of that much.”

Lady Adiyan could only manage a tired smile as her eyelids drooped. “Just one will do,” she said in a soft voice. “Iyen. I will have her assist you. Will tell her what to do later.”

Sjan-dehk took that as his cue to leave, but as he stood up, he felt Adiyan’s hand gently wrap around his wrist. “What is it? Do you need something?” He asked.

Adiyan shook her head and looked at Sjan-dehk with an expression that he could only describe as deeply apologetic. It unsettled him, to be honest; he’d never see her with such a look before. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I could do it myself,” she said in a single breath, then closed her eyes as she drew in another deep one. “You are a soldier. A good one. But now you need to be a marquis. I wish I could tell you what happens in their courts and what you should do, but I cannot. For that, I am sorry.”

“I’ll figure it out.” Sjan-dehk tried to keep the concern from his voice as he carefully plucked Adiyan’s hand from his arm and placed it on the bed. “You know I always do. I’ll drag Iyen along if I have to.”

She closed her eyes and settled beneath the sheets. “Courts, they’re a battlefield of their own. One you haven't had the chance to get used to. But it is one I must now throw you into.” Whatever medication the doctor had given her, it was sapping her strength quickly. She yawned again, but found it within herself to say, “So please, be safe, Shanya.”

And just like that, she was out like a snuffed candle.

Sjan-dehk took the time to make sure that she was properly tucked into her sheets before quietly leaving the room. All the while, he ruminated upon Adiyan’s parting words. It was just a warning. One that he likely needed and one that was fair for his circumstances. Nothing more, nothing less. Adiyan had always been like that with both Iyen and him. One part cold and logical strategist, one part overbearing mother.

Yes, that was all it was. Just a warning.

---

The sun was already well on its way towards the horizon when Sjan-dehk finally stepped off the gangplank and back onto the deck of his Sada Kurau. It hadn’t been that long since he’d left – he knew that – but yet he still felt as if it had been weeks and months since he’d been aboard. Placing the gifts he had taken from the Sudah onto the deck, he stood where he was to simply enjoy the moment. His crew was hard at work keeping the Sada Kurau in top condition, and she seemed pleased with the treatment. Her yards swayed in the gentle breeze, and her ropes creaked a gentle melody.

“Ah, captain! Welcome back.” Mursi called out as he rushed over. “First officer Azwan, along with Masters Hai-shuun, Dai-sehk, Sahm-tehn, and Avek have gone ashore to purchase supplies. I’ve been left in charge of the evening watch.” He half turned and gestured to the men in the rigging of the ship, then to those armed with muskets standing by the guardrails. “We should be done with maintenance works before sundown, and I took the liberty of rostering the men for guard duties.”

Sjan-dehk nodded slowly. “Well done, master Mursi,” he said and reached into his pocket, pulling out one of the steamed buns which Iyen had insisted he take from the Sudah’s galley. She had practically stuffed them into his trousers when he told her that he hadn’t actually eaten anything substantial since pulling into harbour. “How are the guns? Any of them need repairs?”

“Larbord thirteen might need a proper swab. She’s built up too much residue, but it’s nothing that we can’t fix ourselves.” Mursi reported crisply.

“Sails? Any tears, rips?”

“None, captain.”

“What about the hull?”

“Master Hai-shuun reported nothing of note. Just minor scratches and chips from combat. He already has men repairing the damage.”

Sjan-dehk bit into the bun, then pointed with it to something behind Mursi’s right shoulder. “What about a strange, red-haired woman wandering around like she owns the damn ship?” He asked a little too casually considering the situation. Mursi certainly didn’t feel the same levity. It was a wonder that he didn’t give himself a headache with how quickly he spun around on his heel. Sure enough, there was a red-headed woman simply walking along the gunwale, looking the ship up and down as she did so. She wasn’t even snooping around; the crew simply paid her no heed. At least, not until now, when Sjan-dehk pointed her out to them.

“Alarm! Intruders!” Mursi shouted out, his hand flying to the pistol tucked into his belt.

“Intruder,” Sjan-dehk corrected as he chewed on his mouthful of bun. It was still pleasantly warm, and full vegetables and fish stewed in a light sauce. He simply watched as his men burst into action. Almost every one of them had a weapon of some sort on hand. They shouted at the woman in words she likely didn’t understand, ordering her to stop, to turn around and face them, to identify herself. The armed guards soon took up positions in a semi-circle around her, their muskets raised and cocked.

By all accounts, Sjan-dehk had every right to be angry. To be upset that someone had dared to step onto his ship without his permission. Yet, all he felt was amusement. That one woman could so easily just walk up the gangplank and onto his ship, and after that just walk up and down her deck with neither care nor worry was just laughable. Mursi would of course have to answer for that later, but for now, Sjan-dehk saw the humour in the whole situation.

He stepped through the crowd until he was at the line of musketmen. “Relax,” he said, pushing the barrel of the closest weapon down. “It’s just one girl. We don’t have to set up a firing line just for her. Aside from the guards, I want everyone else to return to their duties. Sun’s going down and unless you want to work by candlelight, I’d suggest you finish up your tasks quickly and sharply.” He released the weapon and took another bite out of his bun. “Keep your muskets trained on her if you must, but don’t shoulder them.”

“Yes, captain,” the closest guard said. He lowered his weapon to his waist, but kept the muzzle pointed in the general direction of the woman.

Sjan-dehk took his time to walk over to her, stopping a safe distance away. Yes, she was just one girl, but ‘just one girl’ could easily have ‘just one knife’ or ‘just one pistol’ tucked away somewhere to bring his life to a very abrupt end. Granted, he was sure that he had yet to anger anyone in Sorian enough to warrant something as drastic as that, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. He still had his promises to Lady Adiyan to keep.

He looked up and down, though he wasn’t quite sure why he did that. As if he could tell anything about her other than that she had red hair, and she looked like most people he’d seen in the city. A curious local who simply wanted to get a closer look at a foreign vessel, perhaps? Or maybe something more sinister, a spy who aimed to steal Viserjantan secrets. One seemed more likely than the other, but regardless, Sjan-dehk figured that it paid to open with something polite.

“You, strange lady.” He said after swallowing whatever he had in his mouth. “Who are you? Why do you come here? To our Sada Kurau?”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Interactions: Roman @ReusableSword
Mentions:
Time: 1600

Sjan-dehk dipped his head slightly as he took the coin. Wrapping it in a fist, he pressed it against his chest as he bowed. “Thank you. Will find you later at the park. Give something in return, yes?” He already had a few ideas in mind for a reciprocal gift. A sampling of the materials stored in the Sudah’s holds would likely be appreciated by a craftsman such as Roman. Or perhaps one of the more artisanal weapons; something that was much better suited for the hunt than a battlefield. There was also always the option of spirits and spices; both evergreen choices that, as far he knew, were always welcome.

Or, he could just bring a bit of everything. Very likely, he’d have to. From what he understood, Roman had been called away by a princess – likely his, by the sound of things – and she’d be present at the park later on. Naturally, Sjan-dehk would have to present her with a gift as well. Basic courtesy, really; it wouldn’t be very nice if he showed up, gave Roman something, and left her with nothing beyond niceties.

Something along those lines; rules of decorum weren’t things Sjan-dehk was overly-familiar with. He knew what they were and how they worked, but nothing deeper than that.

After he parted ways with Roman, he took some time to wander around. Not aimlessly, but simply without a specific destination in mind. If a city was a reflection of its ruler, then it stood to reason that having a look around would allow Sjan-dehk to have some gauge of the Caesonian king’s person. There already were a few vague opinions floating around in his head, but their first encounter had been a mixed experience, to say the least. A little more insight, a little more information; that was all Sjan-dehk needed.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he had anything else to do or anywhere else to me. He was already off his ship; he may as well make himself useful.

He took the road south, heading towards the coast. Despite his plans, there really wasn’t much in this part of the city for him to see. Nothing that would tell him anything new, at least. Aside from the arena behind him and an animal pen that would soon join it, Sjan-dehk could see little places of interest. The cluster of buildings opposite the pen did seem rather well-built and well-taken care of, but that wasn’t much different from what he had seen along the coast earlier. After them came what appeared to be a larger version of the arena. Its walls of brick-and-mortar stretched high into the sky, and there were a few groups of people finding shelter from the heat of the late afternoon sun in its long shadow.

Birds chirped from trees lining the road. Some flitted between branches in feathery blurs. As Sjan-dehk approached the intersection at its end, the buzzing clamour of a thronging crowd grew louder and louder until it was a constant, ubiquitous hum. Everything told him that this was a normal, healthy city. The people looked happy enough; their needs seemed to be adequately taken care of, and things were certainly going well enough for their lord to invite royal parties from not one, but two of their neighbours.

And yet, he still felt like he was missing something.

The fisherwoman – hot-blooded Aislin – had painted him a rather bleak picture. One where those who fed the city were themselves hungry; where they couldn’t even venture beyond the city’s immediate waters for fear of bandits and pirates; where – it seemed – royal authority was absent where it was needed. None of it made sense to Sjan-dehk. Surely, a city which could afford to host so many guests – and, of course, the miscellaneous and expensive activities that came with it – could afford to do something for their suffering citizens. One well-armed ship would be enough to chase away minor bandits. Sjan-dehk knew that for a fact. He also knew that it wasn’t exactly the costliest of endeavours.

A dense copse of trees lined the street to his left. If his bearings were right – and they usually were – then right behind them would be the sprawling slum in which he had gotten lost earlier. Almost as if those who planned the city were intentionally trying to keep it hidden. Sjan-dehk frowned. It reminded him of a story commonly told to young Viserjantans, particularly Jafins such as himself. ‘The King who Barred his Doors to Escape a Siege’, it was called. A precautionary tale about the dangers of rejecting harsh realities to live amongst comforting lies. Suffice to say, none involved in the story had a happy ending.

He shook his head. Perhaps he was reading too much into things.

The path he followed soon turned from cut cobblestones to bare dirt. Buildings of stone and brick turned to shacks of tattered cloth and misshapen wood. Gone were the orderly streets, now replaced by intertwined and winding alleys which led everywhere and nowhere at once. Sjan-dehk navigated his way with his ears as much as he did with his eyes. So long as he could still hear the crash of waves or the call of sea-birds, he knew he wasn’t going in the wrong direction.

Soon, however, he picked up the faded echoes of familiar words. A song, and not just any song. It was an incredibly bawdy one sung in his native tongue. Sjan-dehk let out a long sigh. Had this been a Viserjantan city, he would’ve raced to find whomever it was that sang it to swiftly and firmly shut them up. Even by the off-colour standards of an average sailor, the song was particularly offensive and an easy way to start a fight should someone from the eastern Viserjantan provinces hear it.

But, this was not a Viserjantan city, and so Sjan-dehk took his time to follow the song. It didn’t take long for him to reach what appeared to be an open-air tavern. Tables were arranged haphazardly in a fenced-off open area attached to a larger building. Every seat was occupied, and every hand held a mug or bottle or flagon. So cheery was the mood that Sjan-dehk couldn’t help but crack a smile as he stepped through the entrance and towards the table where his men sat.

Or at least, three of them sat. The fourth stood on a chair with one foot on the table as he belted out verse after verse of the song. His black hair was matted to his forehead, and his uniform so unkempt that it was a wonder how any of it stayed on with his wild and exaggerated movements. The locals seemed to either be entertained by or making fun of his antics. Sjan-dehk would’ve honestly understood either way. In fact, he was already thinking of how he was going to relate this particular event to the rest of the crew.

The man looked down to take a swig from his flagon, and it was then he caught sight of Sjan-dehk. For a moment, he froze. Then, his eyes widened and he almost dropped his drink as he stood to attention on the chair. “C-Captain!” He shouted out. His three other fellows immediately stood up, their backs straight as ramrods and eyes looking straight ahead. Sjan-dehk could feel every pair of eyes present turn to him, and hear the whispers that were beginning to ripple through the crowd.

“At ease, Wafeh,” he said and gestured for them to sit. Wafeh let out a long breath as he stepped off the chair and approached Sjan-dehk. He did his best to fix disheveled hair, but all he succeeded in doing was to smear the individual strands across his dark face. “Getting to know the locals already?” The smile on Sjan-dehk’s face turned into a grin. “Quite a song to introduce them to.”

Wafeh gulped. “I-” He began, then cleared his throat and stood to attention again. His eyes nervously flicked to Sjan-dehk every now and then as he spoke. “Able Seaman Dayan Wafeh reporting, captain. It was an accident. I drank too much and didn’t think, captain. It won’t happen again.”

Sjan-dehk chuckled and waved his hand dismissively. “What you sing is up to you. Just make sure no one from the Sudah is around to hear you. They have a few easterners aboard, and they’re not all as tough as those of us from the west, or the centre. If they get offended and decide to give you a beating, you’re on your own. Consider this a fair warning.” He nodded to the three behind Wafeh. “You all work under Master Hai-shuun, do you?”

Wafeh nodded. “Yes, captain. There wasn’t much to do on the Sada Kurau, so master Hai-shuun told us we could come ashore if we wanted.”

“You can stand at ease. No need for ceremony here. You're making me bloody uncomfortable, to be honest.” Wafeh visibly relaxed, but still walked stiffly back to his seat when Sjan-dehk motioned for him to do so. The captain followed, stopping at the edge of the table with arms folded. These four men were some of the lowest-ranked members of his crew, and so even with Sjan-dehk’s reputation of a lax captain, they still kept their eyes averted. “When I say to be at ease, I mean it. I didn’t come here looking for any of you. I was just walking around and having a look. How are you finding the city?”

Wafeh was the one who responded. “It’s good, captain. We don’t understand the people here and they don’t understand us, but no one’s given us any trouble so far. We could even get ourselves a drink just by using our hands, as you suggested.”

Sjan-dehk nodded slowly. It was good to hear that his men were settling in nicely, and even better to know that they had actually listened to his earlier speech. “Glad to hear it. I’ll be making my way back to Sada Kurau. Enjoy yourselves, but not too much.” He gave them a little smirk as he glanced at Wafeh. “And I think I know who to look for the next time we need someone to lead a song for hard graft. Just make sure you pick your songs wisely, yes?”

That got a few chuckles from the men. Three of them, at least, and Sjan-dehk took that as his cue to leave. Just as he was about to take his first step, however, Wafeh called out to him. “Oh, captain, master Hai-shuun had something he wanted us to tell you. If we ran into you, that was, and we did. Someone from the Sudah came by looking for you. Her Ladyship of Good Counsel wants to see you.”

“Lady Adiyan?” Sjan-dehk’s brows furrowed. “Didn’t think she’d be fit to see anyone today.”

Wafeh shrugged with an apologetic look on his face. “I don’t know anything else, captain. Everyone who left the ship after you were just told to pass the word if they saw you.”

Sjan-dehk nodded. “Thank you. As you were.” With that, he made haste to return to his ship. This was an unexpected turn of events, but not entirely unwelcome. There were some things he needed to clarify with Lady Adiyan, anyway, and if she felt well enough to receive visitors, then she was most likely out of any grave danger.

He just hoped what he had to tell her would be good enough.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Interactions: Roman @ReusableSword
Mentions:
Time: 1530

As Roman spoke, Sjan-dehk did his best to commit the man’s words to memory. It was unlikely he could remember or even understand enough to reproduce them with any sort of coherence later, but to sate his own curiosity and as a brief, first day’s report to Lady Adiyan, it would suffice.

His brows arched in pleasant surprise when the larger man mentioned his people’s – and in particular, his sister’s – affinity for the sea. Immediately, he began to wonder what their ships were like. Were they quick and agile in the water, or did they favour a slower and steadier approach? Did their hulls bend and roll with the waves, or were they solid beasts that ploughed through all with strength and determination? And their sails; did they billow in the wind as a net would fill with fish, or were they battened things that would clatter as they corralled and bent the ocean gusts to their will?

Of course, none of them were questions pertinent to the matter at hand. They were, however, enough to almost distract Sjan-dehk from the fact that Roman had misinterpreted his concerns. Any sailor with a map and some level of bravery would certainly find their way between their lands. It was the physical distance Sjan-dehk had been trying to talk about. After all, a distant heart ached the hardest, as it was said, and the distance between Viserjanta and this new continent was definitely vast.

He decided against correcting Roman. It wasn’t a big issue and besides, he’d more likely than not simply make things even more confusing for the two of them.

Only when Roman was done did Sjan-dehk begin to formulate his reply. The first order of business was to politely and respectfully decline the generous offer of the services of his people’s doctors. “Lady Adiyan, I think she is…Alright.” That ran a little too close to being a bold-faced lie for Sjan-dehk’s liking, but he didn’t know how else to say that even though she was likely to lose a leg and had more shrapnel in her than a loaded canister, she was stable and out of any immediate danger. “For now. Healers, we have. But I will see her later and know more. If we need help, will let you know.” He paused. “Thank you.”

Now all he had to do was to talk about Viserjanta. A task easier said than done.

Had he known more of the local tongue, he could’ve waxed endlessly about the history – both distant and recent – of the Commonwealth; of how it had once been a kingdom, then empire, governed by rulers both wise and wicked. He could have spoken about the rich histories of the myriad of people and cultures that called the scattered islands home, left behind by sagacious scholars and dutiful courtiers. If time allowed, he could have even touched on the various schools of philosophies founded by great thinkers and worldly visionaries, their words and deeds recorded for posterity by their loyal students.

Unfortunately, Sjan-dehk didn’t know enough of the local language.

And so, he had to settle for something a little more basic. “Viserjanta, it is a land of islands. Many islands, big and small. Also many ah…Ways? Different peoples, different ways, yes? Viserjanta has a lot. I-” He patted his chest. “-From Jafi. We are…Ajadi.” His brows knitted together as he struggled to think of a way to describe a march. “Viserjanta, the…West? We protect. So they call our land Ajadi. Many types of lands, but all bow to the High Queen.”

There wasn’t much Sjan-dehk could say about Daraya the Second. He had met her once – personally, no less – when she had paid Jafi a visit after the war to convey her appreciation for the march’s loyalty and its services to her cause. She seemed nice enough; not at all the stuffy aristocrat Sjan-dehk had expected, and more of a soldier-queen with a temperament that reminded him of his sisters. They had shared a few words – mostly over the Far Western theatre of the war, and Sjan-dehk’s extensive experiences – before she had to be called away to meet with his father, and he had to return to his ship for duty.

“The High Queen, she rules all. Queen of kings. With her…Damasaang. It is many nobles, they meet and decide Viserjanta’s…Path.” Crown and council, that was the cause Sjan-dehk had fought for. It was still a cause he believed in, even if their decisions sometimes frustrated him. “Jafi, and other islands, we have own Damasaang. It is…The Way. Harmony.”

He stopped and drew in a deep breath. Translating his thoughts into the local tongue had taxed his mind a lot more than he had thought it would. He could feel his head throbbing from just behind his eyes to the back of his head. That was enough sharing about Viserjanta; if Roman wanted to know more, Sjan-dehk could offer a few books and maybe volunteer one of his crew to help translate. Or confuse. It was really a toss-up between the two.

It was only then did he realise that while the ring had been empty for the entire time the two of them had been conversing. He nodded towards the empty arena. “More? Or finished?”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Interactions: Roman @ReusableSword
Mentions:
Time: 1530

“They don’t know what true suffering is, but you do. My people do.”

Sjan-dehk couldn’t tell why, but those few words struck a particular chord with him. It resonated within both his head and his heart, the note low and baleful. Scattered memories he couldn’t recall forming washed up upon the shores of his mind. Reddened decks and stinging smoke; burning timbers and dancing flames; a flash of steel and crack of gunpowder; piercing screams and desperate pleas. All so vivid. All so familiar and yet at the same time, not. It was almost as if he was seeing the echoes of someone else’s life.

In the back of his mind, he knew what he was seeing. The minutiae of battle, the little details one could so easily overlook once taken by the raging blood. Images and sounds so gruesome and frightful that a calm and sane mind would try to forget. To pretend it never happened. To pretend that all was normal, that one was the same person they had been before the fight. To keep all these dreadful recollections locked away until some random event, some coincidental happenstance, brought them all back out.

With a blank stare, Sjan-dehk gazed out at the arena. He pondered over Roman’s words, and despite not wanting to pass judgement on anyone, he found himself agreeing with the man. Duels carried their own set of dangers – Mayet had proven that rather strikingly – but they were nothing compared to the horrors of war. At least in a duel, you knew where your possible death would come from. You would know exactly how you died. With enough skill, you could even put up enough resistance to make it an honourable end.

There was no such luck in war. One could know every stance and every move of every school of martial arts in the world; could memorise every manual-of-arms and military treatise of every weapon that existed; could cut swathes through enemy ranks, and still they would fall easily enough to a stray musket shot, be reduced to nothing by cannon fire, or simply cut down from behind by a passing foe. Sjan-dehk did his best – he really did – but he couldn’t help but wonder how the two duellists from before would fare amidst the frenetic confusion of an open battle. He found no answer. He doubted he even wanted one.

Sjan-dehk drew in a deep breath and rested his elbows on his thighs. Leaning forward, he dipped his head and rested his forehead against his fingertips. For a moment, he closed his eyes. He exhaled slowly, then filled his lungs to the brim once more.

The war was over. It was all in the past. To opine on local ways was not his place, and to contemplate the nature of peace and strife was even farther from what he needed to do. Roman had given a suggestion, and so all he had to do was to simply respond to it.

When he sat back up, stretching his arms in front of him as he did so, it was as if nothing happened. There was that usual ghost of a smirk tugging on his lips, the mischief twinkling – albeit somewhat dulled – in his eyes, and his typical levity laced his floundering speech. “That is…Very interesting. Your idea.” Even as he said those words, he doubted Lady Adiyan would be receptive to it. There were still too many unknowns to make his plan palatable.

Even so, Sjan-dehk made a note to mention it to her. “I will tell Lady Adiyan. She will, ah…Likely want to meet with…The one who speaks for your lands. All of your lands. Your kingdom. To hear and see things for herself, yes? Viserjanta, it is very far. Long journey for your cra– craftsmen. And ours. A lot to discuss before we can make decision.” He hoped that it was a satisfactory answer. As things were, Sjan-dehk felt quite sure that he had far overstepped his boundaries as far as responsibilities went. Until Lady Adiyan recovered and was well enough to receive visitors, he wouldn’t know for sure.

And that was when Sjan-dehk realised he forgot to mention one very important detail. “Ah, Lady Adiyan, it might be…Time? Some time before she can meet. Or talk. She was wounded on our journey here. Maybe a day, maybe two, before I can meet her.” He paused for a moment, trying to think of anything that he may have forgotten. Finding none, he simply added, almost apologetically, "So you might need to wait."

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Interactions: Roman @ReusableSword
Mentions: Mayet @13org Riona @JJ Doe
Time: 1530

Sjan-dehk had to agree; this whole thing was far too much of a spectacle for his liking.

Then again, he only did know of two kinds of duels. There was the sort which arose – rather naturally, he’d add – from the festive and oftentimes drunken mood of a banquet. Simple displays of combat skill, that’s all they were. A chance to learn techniques and share experiences with like-minded peers. The other was usually a more serious affair. Slighted officers and nobles had a tendency to right perceived wrongs via a fight with none of the usual risks of battle. Regardless, prestige was at stake in either circumstance, and neither was something carried out in the presence of a large audience. A moderate one, perhaps, and it would almost certainly be a closed affair at the very least.

Here, it was completely different. Between the wild and unrestrained audience, the blaring trumpets which heralded the king’s arrival, and said king’s attempt to direct the crowd’s cacophonous fervour towards his son, this all felt like a sporting event than anything else. Sjan-dehk wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it; on the one hand, a bit of friendly competition never hurt anyone. On the other, making it a show, a form of entertainment, felt almost gratuitous.

Or perhaps, he was simply putting too much thought into it. Roman did say that only fought to the point of submission. Likely, it was nothing like the blood sport Sjan-dehk was imagining, the gladiatorial matches that were said to be so common during the high point of the old Viserjantan Empire.

By the time he took his seat and got settled, the current fight was already reaching its end. Even so, there was enough action for Sjan-dehk to see that both fighters were evidently highly skilled. Their blades shone in the light, the clang of their clashes reverberating over the roar of the crowd. It was impossible to know which was the favourite, but Sjan-dehk doubted it mattered. Eventually, one duellist got the better of the other. Judging by the reaction of the crowd, and the chanting of his name, Sjan-dehk assumed that it was the local prince that won.

“Yes. Lady Adiyan speaks for Daraya, second of her name. Our High Queen.” Sjan-dehk took advantage of the relative lull that fell over the arena after the two fighters cleared the stage to answer Roman. There wasn’t much he could say, however. Most of him was still trying to figure out why Roman would’ve brought up the issue of manpower, or the lack thereof. Was he hinting that his lands traded in people? That would be awkward. The High Queen had been especially harsh towards those who dabbled in the flesh trade.

Sjan-dehk decided to shrug off those thoughts. It was far more likely that it was just another instance of his poor command of Caesonian coming back to bite him. “Food, wine, medicine, all good. Dried is best. We sailed far to come here.” There was likely more that the trade delegation would be interested in, but those three categories were what stood out to Sjan-dehk the most. “We have weapons too. Mostly bows. Also crossbows. Sudah, that is the trade ship, she has gems and metals and woods. Good for crafting. Spices and wine also. Your lands, what do...Does it need?”

Once again, Sjan-dehk declined to mention the guns and cannons that were available for trade.

Before Roman could give his response, the next fight started. He helpfully provided the name of one of the duellists along with his assessment of their skills. Sjan-dehk nodded as if he understood. For all he knew, this ‘Mayet’ could be either of the two. He watched with rapt attention, in any case, leaning slightly forward with arms resting on his thighs. This was the first time he observed fighting styles originating from places beyond the boundaries of his home region. There was much he could learn, and he didn’t want to miss a single detail.

Both fighters were women, by the looks of it, one more obviously so than the other. That was about as far as their similarities went. Their arms and clothing of choice diverged greatly, with one so wrapped up that she was conspicuous in her attempts to remain hidden; the other wearing little enough to make Sjan-dehk immediately believe that she had plenty of skill to back up her confidence. As if to accentuate the point, she hefted a curious looking weapon, a circular blade that didn’t seem to have an obvious handle.

Sjan-dehk knew whom he would be watching closer.

After a brief greeting, the fight began. The wielder of the circular blade fought with the fluidity and grace of a raging river. Every movement of each limb flowed into the other, her weapon guided by the current. Her opponent was no pushover, however. She weaved between the strikes, allowing the deadly circle to cut through air where she could and expertly deflecting it with her blade where she couldn’t. Sjan-dehk could only imagine the amount of force that came behind each strike of the circle. He had fought against curved blades before – such vicious weapons were favoured by the northern sea raiders – and they were always fearsome to see unsheathed, and tricky to deal with.

Sjan-dehk wasn't sure how much time had passed, but soon both women stood apart once more. For a moment, he thought he had missed something amidst the turbulent fray. Perhaps one of them had caught a blade somewhere. He was swiftly proven wrong, however, when the ring-blade wielder adopted a new stance and swiftly resumed her offensive.

This time, she was much faster on the attack, with kicks punctuating each swing of the blade. Sjan-dehk found himself nodding in agreement without even knowing it. A warrior’s first and best weapon was their body; that was the first thing every Viserjantan soldier and sailor learned in training. Brandish a sword, a gun, a bow, or any weapon, and that was all most opponents would see. Few would expect to catch a fist to the jaw, a kick to the chest, or an elbow to the head.

The fight intensified with each swing and each parry. Sjan-dehk furrowed his brows. Was this still a fight to submission? It felt as if they were just one misjudged limb or one mistimed attack away from turning this into a very, very bloody affair. He could tell that the swordswoman was already beginning to tire under the furious onslaught of the ring-blade wielder. The latter struck like a surging river, each attack eroding more of the former’s strength, each attack widening the gap needed for the decisive blow.

That blow came not too long after. Sjan-dehk couldn’t for the life of him understand the stance adopted by the ring-blade wielder, and neither was he going to try, but he did know one thing. He’d fought in enough battles to know a killing blow when he saw one. His hands went for the armrests of his seat, gripping them with knuckle-white strength, and he clenched his jaw. Surely, someone had to have seen the same thing and would be calling for an end to the fight. They had to, otherwise everyone would soon be witnesses to an execution.

But no one moved. “She’s going to fucking die!” He called out in his native tongue, but the clamour of the excited crowd whisked away his voice the minute it left his lips. Something had to be done. By the laws of his native Viserjanta, this would be the moment when the swordswoman’s second would jump in to stop the fight by force if necessary. Applying it here, to Sorian, was foolish – Sjan-dehk knew that even as his right hand flew across his body for the pistol on his left – but to do nothing was a moral wrong.

To take a shot from this range at a moving target, and to hope to hit it, called for more luck than skill. Then again, Sjan-dehk didn’t need to shoot the ring-blade wielder. He just needed to cause enough trouble to hopefully get someone to stop everything. A gunshot would likely suffice in that. Sjan-dehk started to stand up, his hand already sliding the pistol from its holster.

A lion let out a ferocious roar. The ring-blade wielder caught herself just in time. She pulled it away from the swordswoman at the very last moment. Sjan-dehk fell back into his seat, exhaling as if he had been holding his breath for ages. The pistol fell back into its holster.

Silence descended over the arena. For a moment, nothing happened. It was as if everyone and everything needed time to process what had just happened.

Then came the deafening applause and cheers from the crowd. Sjan-dehk didn’t join in; his heart was still racing from that narrowly-avoided disaster. However, he did find it in him to look over to Roman to answer his quip from during the fight. At least, Sjan-dehk thought he had heard him say something; as far as he knew, it could’ve just been his imagination, but he really wasn’t in any state of mind to debate such things with himself. “It was…Exciting. She…Ah, Mayet, has good control. Very close.” Even as the words left his mouth, he wasn't sure if he believed them. A fighter with truly good control wouldn't have needed a literal lion's roar to narrowly avoid killing their opponent. Sjan-dehk couldn't say he didn't understand, however; he doubted he'd be able to keep himself under control in a similar situation.

Not that it mattered, ultimately. It wasn't his place to judge.

He drew in a deep breath. "Too close."

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Interactions: Roman @ReusableSword
Time: 1510

The Sjan-dehk of a few years prior – hot-blooded and eager as he was – would’ve certainly jumped at the opportunity to prove his mettle and bring honour to his name on the field of battle. Or in this case, in the arena of a duel. Reputation was everything for a man under arms, after all. All the more so when said man was considered a noble, albeit only marginally.

The Sjan-dehk of today, however, needed to do no such thing. For one, there was simply not much left for him to prove. He already captained his own ship – one which he earned through blood, no less – and had already fought enough battles to earn his family and himself fame to last a lifetime. More than that, most likely, if the poets and scholars did what they were wont to do and embellished the odd detail. Granted, such fame would likely be mostly limited to the outlying western islands where Jafi’s fleet spent most of the war, but that was perfectly fine with Sjan-dehk.

More importantly, however, was that Sjan-dehk simply wasn’t good at duelling. Fighting deep in the thick of it and cutting down his enemies was one thing. Fighting a duel with rules was another. The last time he had fought in such a fight – ceremonial swordplay, as his father called it – had been during a banquet held to celebrate the end of the war. Sjan-dehk didn’t even last one round. It took only three bouts before the rush of battle got to his head and he gave his opponent a savage kick to the nether regions. Suffice to say, that had earned him a swift disqualification.

Starting his stay in Sorian with such an incident would be inauspicious, and so Sjan-dehk decided to do the prudent thing and decline the invitation. “Sjan-dehk. That is my name. Wasun is family.” He first gave Roman a quick correction. The royal tutor had already prepared him for such errors. “I will watch. Maybe fight next time, yes?” A slight grin accompanied his last sentence. He followed Roman through the side entrance into the stands. The heat from bodies packed so tightly together and the smell of sweat met him like an overly-familiar friend. It smothered and made wading through the crowd feel harder than it actually was, but it wasn’t anything Sjan-dehk wasn’t used to.

There was one other reason for Sjan-dehk to watch the fight with Roman. The man had raised the notion of establishing trade between his lands and the Commonwealth earlier, and though Sjan-dehk still didn’t quite know exact whereabouts or even exact name of his homeland, it would’ve been remiss of him if he allowed this chance to slip through his fingers. At the very least, he wanted to get something he could later pass on to Lady Adiyan. “I am not a trader. More like…Fighter?” Sjan-dehk opened by admitting. Honesty was key in all affairs, as the saying went. “Lady Adiyan, she ah…She knows more about trade. But we can talk about it first. Know more about our land, yes? I will tell her what we say and she can decide.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Interactions: Roman @ReusableSword
Time: Around 3 pm

By now, Sjan-dehk had grown accustomed to how his conversations in Sorian went. He would manage at least one or two smooth exchanges. Three, if his luck persisted, but eventually his limited command of the local tongue would rear its ugly head and bite hard.

Unresourceful men made poor captains, however, and Sjan-dehk was no poor captain. There was no real need for him to parse every word of every spoken phrase; so long as he could pick out the important parts like a marksman picking off targets, he’d know enough to just get by. It was not a perfect situation by any stretch of the imagination, but it was good enough for now.

With this stranger, Sjan-dehk understood enough to know that the man’s name was Roman, that he was a craftsman of some sort – a trademark of his important-sounding lineage, it seemed – and most noticeably of all to Sjan-dehk, that he wasn’t Caesonian. Or at least, he didn’t sound like one. It was entirely possible that his accent was just one of many that existed within the city, but after – quite literally – running into Alidashti royalty at the castle, Sjan-dehk allowed himself a modicum of hope. Making contact and perhaps even deals with three different lands would surely more than satisfy the trade delegation still aboard the Sudah. It could even mean a quick return to familiar waters and familiar duties for Sjan-dehk.

That thought sat strangely in his head. It should’ve pleased him, and yet it didn’t. Not as much as he had expected, at least.

“Come friend.” Roman beckoned him to follow with both words and gesture. Seeing as he had nowhere to be and no idea where to go, Sjan-dehk saw no reason not to fall in half-a-step behind the giant. “Tell me of your land? I have only heard of the Commonwealth in passing stories from our traders. What brings you all the way out here?”

Sjan-dehk’s brows climbed higher up his forehead. Even in the years leading up to the attempted coup by the absolute royalists, Viserjanta had been in enough simmering turmoil and unrest to keep all but the most dogged and intrepid merchants away. Perhaps the ones Roman spoke of had only reached the very peripheries of the Commonwealth. Far enough away from the major seats of power and thus more-or-less insulated from political and courtly intrigues, these provincial regions – Jafi amongst them – had been the safest places to be. Ironic, considering that most of them grew out of military outposts and settlements to pacify said regions.

Not that it mattered in the end. Like a wildfire, the following civil war burned its way to every corner of the Commonwealth. Sjan-dehk had been present to witness enough of its excesses to last at least a handful of lifetimes. War had a strange way of turning even the mildest person into wanton monsters relishing in their own depravity.

“To explore. To trade.” Sjan-dehk kept his answer simple. Even if he knew the words to describe the recent history of the Commonwealth, he wouldn’t have used them. It wasn’t a topic for casual talk. Or any sort of talk, the more he thought about it. “We had war for many years. Fought…Our own in many battles.” There wasn’t much emotion in Sjan-dehk’s voice. He may as well have been describing the weather. It was all in the past. Whatever grief and sorrow he felt had been expressed all those years ago. Now he was simply talking about a fact of life.

He shrugged. A man standing under an awning loudly hawked skewers of some unknown meat from his little stall. The solid, generous chunks dripped with a sauce that sizzled as they touched the coal-fired grill underneath. “But now we have peace. Less fighting, so ships can do other things.” Sjan-dehk continued as they walked past the stall. He’d have to remember to tell Avek about it later; the smell alone was tasty enough to warrant asking the steward to try his hand at a facsimile. “The High Queen, she ah…Decided that I am more useful here.”

As they continued on their way, the clamouring noise of a distant crowd grew louder, accompanied by the vague sounds of combat. Roman had mentioned an arena, and Sjan-dehk had already roughly guessed what it was that happened there. His ears simply confirmed his suspicions. “Ah, duels,” he said with a nod and a grin. Even in Viserjanta, he had always been keen to observe how others fought in the field of honour. Taking part, however, wasn't something he did. Winning battles was one thing, a duel with all sorts of rules and whatnot was another. “Will be interesting to see, yes? Who competes?”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Interactions: Roman @ReusableSword
Time: Around 3 pm

Had the man not spoken, Sjan-dehk would’ve likely never noticed him. So dense was the shuffling crowd and so distracted was his mind that the near-collision had gone utterly unnoticed. Even the man’s offered apology almost went unanswered had Sjan-dehk not picked it out – and only just – amongst the thrum of a myriad of simultaneous conversations. He turned, ready and with the intention to politely dismiss what was really a non-issue.

The first thought that crossed Sjan-dehk’s mind upon laying eyes on the man was that this was a person ill-suited for life aboard a ship. His considerable height and build would’ve likely made navigating the short and cramped lower decks torturous. That said nothing of the space he’d need for his berth, or the troubles he would have with low-hanging tackles that would surely come loose during rough winds.

The second thought through Sjan-dehk’s mind was directed more towards himself. Just how could he not notice such a man? He towered above the milling crowd, with few standing up to his shoulders. Sjan-dehk berated himself mentally. To allow his mind to wander off so simply because he was away from his ship was unbecoming of a Viserjantan sailor, let alone a captain. An unfocused mind, after all, was of little use to anyone, least of all himself.

Granted, it didn’t help that he didn’t have anything upon which to focus his mind, but that sounded like an excuse concocted by his mind for himself. It probably was.

He was just about to tell the man that he really didn’t need to apologise – they hadn’t even bumped into each other, after all – when his weapons and his origin were brought up. Sjan-dehk couldn’t help the little grin that crept onto his face. If there was one thing he took particular pride in, it was keeping his arms properly maintained and always ready to impress. Functionally and materially speaking, they were nothing special. No prestigious smith or carpenters had worked on them. No rare metals or woods were used in their construction. They were simply very well cared for. Sjan-dehk had always believed that that would be reflected in their appearance, and this man’s brief comment felt like vindication.

With a quick flick of a thumb, he pushed one sword out of its sheath just enough to show a gleaming sliver of its blade. Single-edged and backed by a heavy and solid spine, the straight sabre was a weapon built to cleave and slash. In Sjan-dehk’s hands, it performed both with magnificent viciousness, much to the woe of his enemies. “Yes, beautiful,” he agreed, voice carrying with the sort of proudness of a parent boasting about their child. “Used them a lot. Many battles They ah…have been on me? With me for very long time.”

The man’s own weapons didn’t escape Sjan-dehk’s notice. A person’s choice of arms often reflected their nature, and Sjan-dehk could see that adage in action with this man. There was little doubt in his mind that the sword the man carried would be a heavy, two-handed weapon in the hands of anyone else. Even the shield he carried looked like it could be a small roof. That he could carry both as if they were just regular arms was impressive. Very much so.

Sjan-dehk pressed a hand to his chest and dipped his head in a shallow bow. “Wasun Sjan-dehk. Fourth Lesser Marquis of Jafi, of the Viserjantan Commonwealth.” He introduced himself. How many times had he repeated those very words today? He’d lost count. He nodded towards the man’s arms. “You? You are going to ah…A fight? Think you would win.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Interactions:
Time: Around 3 pm

The Sada Kurau was, by Viserjantan maritime standards, an odd ship. Granted, her keel hadn’t been laid in any of the Commonwealth’s many shipyards, and she surely wasn’t an indigenous design by any stretch of the imagination. Even so, most captains who chose captured vessels as their commands usually did their utmost to crew and equip them according to conventional naval practices. As much as one could, in any case.

Not Sjan-dehk, however. Of course, he didn’t have much choice in the matter; overly-long for her narrow beam and with a sail plan that exuded speed and agility, the Sada Kurau brooked no argument over the manner in which she took to the seas. She was a ship that accepted no masters, only patient equals who understood that she was a ship one learned to work with, rather than controlled. Sjan-dehk, for the most part, was perfectly happy with that arrangement. It had brought him from victory to victory, and she had saved his crew and himself from violent and premature ends more times than he could count.

Still, the relationship wasn’t perfect. There were a few quirks here and there that Sjan-dehk wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. As he stood on the quarterdeck, looking out over his assembled crew, one such unfavourable trait made itself painfully obvious.

To work the Sada Kurau’s complicated system of ropes and sails required a significantly larger crew of riggers than was necessary for a ship of her size. Coupled with her odd proportions, it meant that when all of the crew were assembled on deck – such as now – she looked almost comically overcrowded. Not only was her main deck choked with men standing shoulder-to-shoulder, those who had no place to stand had to either stand precariously on her gunwale or even cling to her stays and ratlines.

Sjan-dehk wasn’t too worried about the men in such positions – most of them were experienced riggers who knew how to keep themselves safe. Besides, they were in the calm waters of a harbour. More than anything, it was the apparent disorganisation that irked him.

All the more reason for him to get through this bit of formality quickly.

He drew in a deep breath and leaned forward, resting his hands on the guardrail. “All of you should know what I’m about to say. We are, however, the first of our people to make tracks through a city that’s not part of our islands, so I’d advise every one of you to listen up and listen close. We don’t want to be the reason why these fine people–” he jerked a thumb towards the city “–think of us Viserjantans as lousy guests, now do we?”

A murmur of assent rippled through the crowd, accompanied by nodding heads and a scattering of light chuckles. “So,” Sjan-dehk continued and stood up straight, hands behind his back. “It is my duty as your captain to remind you of naval regulations regarding going ashore.” He had said these same words so many times that they didn’t roll off his tongue as much as they burst forth in a droning torrent. “Most, if not all of you, would likely spend much of your time away from your ship. However, bear in mind that you are still bound by Viserjantan law. More importantly, you are still subject to the naval code of conduct. It is thus requested of you that you act as you would in any Viserjantan city. If myself, or any of my officers find out that you’ve been misbehaving, we will not hesitate to take all necessary actions to enforce discipline.”

The implication in his words were clear, but looking at the crew, he may as well have been giving them an update about the weather. Sjan-dehk didn’t blame them; this was a spiel – albeit with some adjustments here and there to fit their current situation – he had to go through every time they pulled into harbour. He didn’t doubt that the older members of his crew could likely recite everything by heart. Still, Sjan-dehk was bound by duty to give them timely reminders.

“Start no conflicts. Be honest in trade. Return what is borrowed. Compensate what you damage. Touch neither thread nor grain. So long as you abide by these five points of attention, all will be in harmony and all will be well.” It was a very brief summary of the code of conduct – one not endorsed by the navy – but it served Sjan-dehk’s purpose well enough. Much as Sjan-dehk wanted to, he couldn’t take the credit for it; his old captain had been the one who first used it, according to naval rumours.

Now, he could move on to what he really wanted to say. “I don’t think I’m lying when I say that I doubt most of us can speak a damn in the local tongue.” He deliberately paused, as if waiting for someone to prove him wrong. Nobody did. “It’s also too late for me to order you all to start learning, so this is how things are going to work. I’ll leave how you want to talk to the locals up to you. You want to use gestures, draw them a picture, or even a whole damn smoke signal, I don’t care.”

That got a few more chuckles from the crew, but they quickly silenced themselves when Sjan-dehk gazed at them with a steely glare. “But if you get into trouble with the law, I expect all of you to cooperate. Even if they insist that you must sit behind bars. I want no trouble while we’re here. Moreso if their laws and their courts get involved. For my part, I will do my best to come quickly to get you out. Of course, if you really did break a law, then there’s not much I can do, so use your reason and think before you act.”

Sjan-dehk thought back to the king. It was often said that the ruler of a land was a reflection of the values held dear by the people. He had found it to be true more often than not, but he hoped that Sorian would be an exception. Then again, the one person who seemed genuinely pleasant had been Saiya, and she could hardly be called a local of these lands. The women who harassed her, however…

He shook his head slightly. It was unbecoming of him to judge an entire people based on just one brief interaction. “These people have ways different to ours,” he said simply. Then, he turned around. Most of his senior crew were standing behind him, with the exception of Hai-shuun. The carpenter had insisted on staying aboard the Celestine for a little while longer with a handful of his men to ensure that every tool and material they had brought with them was accounted for and properly returned. “Any of you have anything to tell the men?”

“No, captain,” Azwan replied on behalf of the others.

Sjan-dehk nodded and turned back to the crew. “Alright, I suppose we’re done here. Just one more thing before you all leave. We’ll be going on a fishing trip tomorrow morning. I expect us to leave before sunrise, so make sure you’re back aboard before then. Make sure you get enough sleep, too. I don’t want to see anyone sleeping tomorrow morning.” He stood back and grinned. “I catch anyone napping while we’re out, I’m making you bait.”

He turned around to the sound of his men’s laughter. “Azwan,” he called out. The first officer replied with a crisp and smart salute. “You may dismiss the crew, then you may dismiss yourself.” Sjan-dehk chewed on his lip for a moment as he considered his next words. Or more accurately, as he worked himself up to say them. “I’m going to take a look around the city. Sada Kurau is…Yours.” He nodded to each of his senior officers, even to the diminutive Sohn-dahn. “I will let you all settle the rostering out yourselves, but I want at least one of you to be on board and in charge at any given time.”

“Understood, captain,” Azwan replied. “First watch will be mine. I understand the rest have duties that will take them ashore.”

Dai-sehk pushed his glasses further up his nose. Dressed in an immaculate blue coat over white clothes, he looked as if he was trying to match the clear skies overhead. “I need to move some of the wounded to somewhere suitable ashore. That may take me all day if my fates do not align.”

“Do they ever, master Dai-sehk?” came Sahm-tehn’s dry response. That earned him a mischievous smirk from Avek, and even a sliver of a smile from Mursi. “Fortune, as I recall from your own words, takes joy in pissing on you.”

Sjan-dehk quickly interjected. “Like I said, how you want to split watch duties amongst yourselves is up to you. As long as I have a Sada Kurau to come back to and nothing bad happens to her while I’m away, I’ll be more than satisfied.” He paused and regarded each man – and boy – with a stern look. “Please, don’t disappoint me.” Though he intended to sound serious, it didn’t escape him that his words may have came out sounding a lot more pleading than he would have liked.

Azwan offered him a smile. Likely, he meant it to be reassuring, but Sjan-dehk didn’t feel it. “We won’t let you down, captain. Sada Kurau is home to us as well. We’ll be sure to keep her safe.”

“I’ll take your word for it, first officer.” Sjan-dehk saluted his men, and they replied in kind. As per tradition, he then turned and quickly jogged down the steps onto the main deck. Only when both his feet were upon the wooden planks of the dock did he hear Azwan loudly dismiss the crew. Normally, Sjan-dehk would’ve been the one to give the order. And normally, Sjan-dehk would’ve been amongst the buzz of activity that now wafted from the deck, wandering across and between decks to supervise work. That, or spend time planning their next course of action.

Sjan-dehk let out a long sigh as he walked towards the city. Though not as well-armed as before, he still had his two swords and a pair of pistols at his hip. It was enough to attract some curious and concerned stares, but he paid them no heed. He barely noticed them. Part of his mind was still ruminating on what he would be doing now were he aboard his Sada Kurau. The rest of it was trying to think of something useful he could do whilst ashore. Exploring aimlessly wasn’t going to do him – or anyone – any favours.

He looked up at the castle in the distance, peeking over tiled roofs. Well, he was here now. On land, in a strange city, and every step bringing him further away from the familiarity of his ship without even the hint of a plan. Sjan-dehk picked a direction, and started walking. With luck, he would find something that would keep his ship and crew occupied over the coming days. If not, then he just hoped he would find something interesting.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Interactions: Marciano@Alivefalling Oswald @princess
Time: 1 pm

At last, some progress.

Sjan-dehk watched in silence as the prisoners were herded off the Celestine. Each heavy, trudging step brought them further and further away from the ship, and ever-so-slightly lightened the weight which had been resting upon his shoulders. Where were they going? What would happen to them? Such questions lingered far in the back of Sjan-dehk’s mind, and he made no attempt to pay them anything beyond the most cursory of heeds. If the Caesonians were anything like the Viserjantans, it would be a simple matter of putting the former pirates to work. Under their past victims, if at all possible. Let them pay off the debts incurred by their actions through labour, and redeem themselves through blood and sweat.

But really, how the Caesonians dealt with the prisoners was none of Sjan-dehk’s concern. This was their land and their city, and so their laws were all that mattered. Surely, they had a system of justice that could dole out fair and appropriate punishments. At least, Sjan-dehk hoped so. He couldn’t imagine King Edin lasting too long otherwise.

He mentally shrugged those thoughts away. True, Edin was a colourful man to say the least, but it was still inappropriate – rude, even – to think ill of him whilst a guest of his, even if only tangentially. Instead, he turned his attention to the last of the king’s men still aboard. “Master Hai-shuun,” he called out with a quick glance to his carpenter. “Stand the men down. If there’s anyone still working, tell them to stop what they’re doing and come up on deck. Let’s not disturb our guest while he’s having a look around.”

“Understood, captain.” Hai-shuun snapped off a quick salute before marching off.

Compared to the wreck that she was just days ago, the Celestine as she appeared now was an absolute gem. Even so, it didn’t take a trained eye to tell that she still needed plenty of work if she was to ever take to the seas as a proper ship-of-war again. Or just as a proper ship in general, even. Fresh planks nailed over gaping holes in the hull could only do so much, and that said nothing of the severely damaged mast that needed replacing. Of course, the former was far more obvious than the latter, miraculous as it was. It wasn’t an exaggeration when Sjan-dehk thought that they were only a day or two’s sail away from the tall piece of timber cracking under the strain of sailing and coming crashing through the hull like a butcher’s cleaver through a haunch of meat.

That was all the more reason for this Oswald to see the damage below decks.

Sjan-dehk offered the man a friendly smile. “Please ah…Feel free to look.” He stepped to the side and motioned for Oswald to come through, vaguely gesturing towards the narrow flight of steps leading into the ship’s dark interior. “We are not yet done…Fixing the ship. Only fix enough to sail here. Bottom decks is where we ah…Damaged her most. You should see. Know what you need.” He paused for a moment to give Oswald a chance to parse his halting speech, and also to consider his next words. “To fix, yes? If the king wants to keep her.”