Apex Sunburn

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Interactions: Kalliope @Tae
Mentions:
Time: 1800

“Did you know that most of their navy can’t swim?”

Sjan-dehk could see the humour in Kalliope’s words. Really, he could. A navy which hired – and a captain who accepted, for that matter – men who were helpless once thrown overboard? Just the very thought of it invited derisive laughter and bemusement. Had this been the Sjan-dehk of half-a-decade past hearing that piece of information, he would’ve done and felt just that. He’d been a proud sailor, then. One that could be considered a veteran of countless actions, but a complete stranger to the savagery of open war.

The Sjan-dehk of today merely kept the polite smile on his face. It faltered momentarily, but it recovered in a flash. Perhaps Kalliope caught it, perhaps not. It didn’t quite matter. His mind was already dragging him back to devastated seas of old.

Recruiting landsmen – those uninitiated by the sea – was a sad but necessary reality of war. Or any navy that reached a certain size, in fact. His Sada Kurau, considered a small ship by Viserjantan standards, had a complement of a hundred-and-fifty men. The true warships, those which could fire around thirty guns per broadside, were crewed by close to three hundred. And the numbers only got higher from there. The huge two-hundred gun flagships – vessels slightly smaller than the Sudah but built for battle – needed close to a thousand men. It was simply impossible to expect everyone from cabin boy to gunner; from marine to carpenter; from helmsman to steward, to be an able man-of-the-sea. Not every position needed such men, in any case, and so landsmen were perfect choices for work that took place on or below decks, where it was less likely that they would fall into the sea.

But as the war dragged on and ships were lost with their crews, the more desperate the navy became for manpower. By the latter half of the second year, it wasn’t at all uncommon for newly-commissioned ships to be crewed largely by landsmen. Such vessels would sail as well as any other, of course, but it was only when they sank did their deadly shortcomings become apparent. Sjan-dehk could still vividly remember the aftermaths of some battles, where the sea was filled with despairing men either clinging to flotsam or floundering as they drowned. The decks of his Sada Kurau would already be packed with survivors, and they’d be unable to rescue any more lest they founder amidst rough waves.

And so there was only one thing they could do. Between a slow death by exposure and predators, and a quick one by bullet, it was clear which was the merciful option.

Sjan-dehk breathed in deeply through his nose. That was simply the nature of war. Some would live, some would die. And for the latter, not all had the luxury of dying well. Sjan-dehk could consider himself lucky for avoiding an inglorious end.

And in any case, the war was over. There was no point dwelling on it. No point at all.

“I haven’t actually seen any ships of your navy, actually,” he said after clearing his throat. “So I’m not going to say much about them or their crews, but I can say with confidence that everyone aboard Sada Kurau is able to swim. She wouldn’t accept anything less.” The cheeky grin returned to his face. Thinking about the endearing quirks of his ship always did that. A wild and unbridled sailor, she didn’t treat those who weren’t on good terms with the sea kindly. The few landsmen that had been amongst his crew had quickly turned themselves into able seamen under her less-than-gentle tutelage.

He was about to apologise for his extended silence – if she’d noticed it – or suggest that they move on to another part of the ship when Kalliope started explaining how she’d learned his language. Although to be quite honest, he was a little lost at the start, when she spoke about the ship she once owned and the lover she once had. Whatever questions he had, however, quickly went flying from his mind when she started to disrobe. He didn’t even care about the glint of blades or the fact that she had them on her this whole time, he just held his hands out in front of him, as if ready to pull the jacket back over her shoulders.

Then, he saw the wounds, and he instantly recognised them for what they were. He’d seen more than his fair share of them. “Who-” he began, but he needn't have bothered. Kalliope soon continued with her story, and he fell back into silence as he listened with rapt attention. With each word and each recollection of the turbulent life she’d had, his natural smile faded until it disappeared into a deadly serious expression. There was nothing in what she said that was new to him. He’d seen it all before. It was the unjustness that made him irate. Yes, Viserjantan sentenced convicts to labour as well, but as far as he knew, any good justiciar worth their name would’ve revealed a framed suspect for the innocent that they way long before a case even got to a magistrate’s table.

And there was also the case of Izahn. A Viserjantan – no, a Jafin – imprisoned and executed by Alidashti hands. The Commonwealth’s approach to their people in other nations was simple; they were responsible for their own actions and were subject to the laws of their gracious hosts. But to be sentenced to what was essentially an eternal sentence for petty theft seemed unreasonable. So what if the victim was of high and noble blood? Kings and queens governed the common folk, but before the law, all were equals. Such was the Way of the Great Harmony.

By the time Kalliope was done, Sjan-dehk’s jaw was set and he could feel the indignation simmering in his heart. When he looked down and into her nervous eyes, however, it all vanished. Replacing it was naught but deep shame. Just what sort of person was he? That after she shared something so personal, all he could think of was his own feelings? That was certainly not becoming of him. His cheeks flushed from the embarrassment, and he glanced away.

For a moment, he said nothing as he tried to think of the perfect thing to say. Then, realising that no such thing existed, he settled for something that was merely suitable. “This Izahn,” he began and placed both hands on the guardrail, looking down at the gnarled wood. “I don’t know how he lived, and I won’t speak on his character, but I can say he died Jafin. He died Viserjantan.” He paused, wondering how he was going to explain that in a way that didn’t sound too dismissive or flippant of the matter. “By our ways, there is no difference between blood and adopted kin. You were, to him, as true a child as those he had with his wife, and how can a father simply sit and watch as his daughter’s abused?”

He looked up at the city for a moment, and let out a long breath. When he spoke, his words came out with a touch of exasperation despite his best efforts. “It’s small comfort, I know, and damn do I wish I could say something better, but all I’m saying is that Izahn died well.” That was definitely not at all proper. Now he had one more thing to clarify on top of what he was already trying to put across. He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. “Sorry. What I meant to say is that we Viserjantans, especially Jafins like us, we all wish to live and die by the Way of the Great Harmony. It guides us in life. Points us towards the truth and helps us stay moral in an immoral world. When Izahn saw you beaten, the Way gave him a choice, and he chose to do what a father should, and protect his daughter despite the risks.”

Pushing himself off the guardrail, he looked at her, and bowed his head. “For what it’s worth, I think it was the bravest of choices. Can’t say I know many people who’d do the same in that situation. I don’t know if I could, myself.” Looking back up, he offered her a little smile. Not a cheeky grin or mischievous smirk, but a genuine, emotive one. “Izahn’s soul rests with the Mother of the Waves now, as will all Jafin souls. May he find calm waters and verdant shores.”

Sjan-dehk had never really been a devout person. Temples and shrines were simply places he went out of ritual and custom. But now? It just felt like the right thing to say, and he silently thanked his old court tutors for making him remember those simple words. He nodded at her pendant. “We’ll have to make sail for Jafi eventually some day. If you’re free and able, you’re more than welcome to join us when that day comes. It would be my pleasure to assist you in some way with such a virtuous quest.” It would by no means be an easy task – the march of Jafi consisted of several islands, each of them with their own cities, towns, and villages – but it was the right thing to do. The man’s family deserved answers. His name, at least, had to be returned to his familial temple.

Sjan-dehk gestured in the vague direction of the Sudah anchored off-shore. “We have a custom, that upon reaching harbour, we’ll remember those we lost along the way. The crew of that other ship's doing it tonight. I wasn’t going to attend since Sada Kurau lost no one, but now that you’ve told me about Izahn, it’s only right that I send him off properly. If you want, you're welcome to join me.” He looked out at the horizon. “He probably paid my family homage at some point, you know? Clan Wasun, protectors of Jafi and whatnot. We all have our obligations. He did his, so I must do mine.”

And he would, to the best of his abilities. If there was one Viserjantan held in Alidashti captivity, then it was reasonable to suspect that there were more. Sjan-dehk had been dreading the prospect of having to meet with more foreign dignitaries, but for those particular nobles? He couldn’t wait. He had so many questions to ask.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Interactions: Kalliope @Tae
Mentions:
Time: 1800

With a fist to his chest, Sjan-dehk returned both the bow and grin with ones of his own. This woman was turning out to be quite the interesting character. Few would consider sneaking aboard a warship only to be caught and placed on the ugly side of a dozen muskets to be a mere game, he wagered. Either she was a remarkable thespian putting on the most convincing act he’d ever seen, or she was – as he’d suspected as an aside earlier – no stranger to violent confrontations.

Both would’ve earned her respect with him; the first for the sheer amount of skill, and the second for being a kindred spirit of sorts. Besides, she had the mind to be considerate of his crew despite everything. That spoke of some goodness in her heart, and that had to count for something.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a wave of his hand. “There’s no need for you to apologise. They made a mistake, they have to suffer consequences. Today, they were lucky. It was just a cheeky woman looking for some fun. Next time, our visitor might not be as harmless.” That wasn’t just a hypothetical; Sjan-dehk was speaking from experience. Not every province was quick to choose sides when the war broke out. A handful tried to remain as neutral as they could, and that meant allowing vessels from both the rebels and the Crown and Court to dock at their harbours. Spies and agents stealing documents and plans from ships belonging to their enemies was the norm back in those days. Sjan-dehk had lost count of the number his crew had captured after the hundred-and-fiftieth one.

Now that he thought about it, that was all the more reason for him to punish his crew. This wasn’t anything unknown to them; they knew what they should’ve done. Cleaning the ship’s six latrines seemed like almost too light of a penalty, now. But it was too late to change anything; Sjan-dehk had already told them what to do, and he wasn’t too keen on going back on his word. Even for something like this.

“Anyway,” he continued. “Nice to meet you, Ka-” The woman’s unfamiliar name tripped on his tongue and stayed there. Sjan-dehk cleared his throat and tried again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ka- I mean, Lady Arden. I am Wasun Sjan-dehk, captain of Sada Kurau and the Fourth Lesser Marquis of Jafi.” Once again, he gestured to the ship around them. “We just arrived this morning, so my crew’s busy getting her fixed up and ready. I’ll show you around, but excuse the mess.”

The Sada Kurau was a lovely vessel indeed, as Kalliope had said, but there really wasn’t much of her for him to show. Or to be precise, there wasn’t much need for Sjan-dehk to actually bring Kalliope around; flat as the deck was, they could easily look up and down the entire ship’s length from where they stood. There was a raised quarterdeck at the stern, yes, but it wasn’t particularly high. “This way,” Sjan-dehk said and beckoned for her to follow him to the prow. It was as good a place as any to start.

“Fore-and-aft rigged, three masts.” Sjan-dehk pointed to the rigging as they walked along the deck. As he passed each idle crewman, he gave them a friendly greeting as well as a reminder that Mursi was the sort to fill idle hands with difficult work. “But see the horizontal yards? She can fly square sails as well when we need speed rather than agility. The rigging is complicated, as you can see, but-” He pushed aside a tangle of dangling ropes and tackles for Kalliope to pass under. “-she’s got a bloody skilled crew. The sails can be changed before our enemies even know what’s happening.”

From the prow, the two of them could see Sorian bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Be it made of stone or wood, thatch or tile, it seemed as if every building shone in the twilight. Little pricks of flickering light marked where lanterns or candles had been lit in preparation for the night. Sjan-dehk leaned against the forward guardrail. Truly, it was a beautiful sight. Beautiful enough that he almost missed the dour, grey castle staring down at him. In the day, it seemed majestic – and it still was in a domineering way – but now in the evening? It was almost drab compared to the rest of the city.

Sjan-dehk drew in a deep breath and glanced at Kalliope with a grin. “A damn fight sight, isn’t it?” He said and patted the cannon he stood beside. “We’ve got four chasers here at the bow. They’re unlikely to finish a fight on their own, but they can slow a runner down, or give them a fair warning before we close in for a scuffle.” He pointed to a shelf fixed to the curved guardrails on either side of the guns. White bags stuffed almost to bursting sat on them, and underneath were a row of cannonballs. “Stay clear of those. We keep powderbags and shot close at hand for our guns. Always have to be ready for anything.”

He drew in a deep breath and looked out at the city again for a moment. “You know,” he started and turned to face Kalliope. “I do have a question for you. I didn’t think we’d meet anyone here who could speak our language, but here you are. You’re not doing too badly at it, too. If you don’t mind me asking, who taught you? Where’d you learn it from? Would be great if we could find any of our own living around these parts.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Interactions: Kalliope @Tae
Mentions:
Time: 1800

Despite the situation, hearing the women repeat his words in his native tongue – albeit with pronunciation that could do with some work – was likely one of the better surprises Sjan-dehk experienced since arriving to Sorian. He could hardly contain the smile that curled his lips, and so he didn’t bother to. At last, a local he could talk to without sounding like an illiterate fool. “You can be both. Just one strange girl,” he said and took another bite from his bun. As he chewed, he looked her over carefully once more. For someone with at least a dozen muskets pointed at her, she was awfully relaxed and calm. There was something more to her, Sjan-dehk was certain of it.

The scars on her face spoke of some form of violence in the past. Souvenirs of battle, perhaps? Or simply wounds from a back alley brawl? They could also be painful memories of abuse. Really, it was hard to tell, and it was hardly the most pressing question. That title went to her knowledge of his language. Where did she learn it from? And from whom? It had to be someone she met regularly, so that immediately struck off enterprising traders and merchants from the list of possibilities. A travelling scholar, maybe?

So many questions, but Sjan-dehk could only chew so slow before it started being ridiculous. “Ah, sorry, I meant woman. Or lady. Whatever you prefer.” He waved for his crew to stand at ease. They hesitated, but one-by-one, each man slowly brought their muskets to their sides, stocks resting on the deck and muzzles pointed to the sky. Whoever this woman was, she seemed friendly enough. A little too curious, maybe, but that hardly warranted a firing line.

“I will admit, you made us look like idiots, sneaking aboard like that.” Sjan-dehk didn’t need to turn or even look around to know that the guards – as well as Mursi – bristled at those words. As they should. “But I’ve to thank you. The path of knowledge is one of falls and rises, as it’s written. You’ve made my crew fall, but now they can rise stronger. Speaking of which, excuse me.”

He looked over his shoulder at Mursi. For a moment, the two of them held their gazes; Sjan-dehk with an arched brow and questioning expression, and Mursi with one that was beyond apologetic. “I’m pretty sure you know what to do, Master Mursi.” Sjan-dehk said with a subtle nod.

Mursi snapped to a salute. “Yes, captain. Latrines for the week, captain.”

“And the guards you posted. Make them help you. It’s their damn fault for being blind as well.”

A few of the guards standing behind Sjan-dehk let out quiet sighs of resignation, but none voiced any sort of opposition or contestation. Had this happened on any other ship, they would’ve been flogged for being negligent in their duties, but Sjan-dehk was willing to let them off easily for the first offence. “Don’t let this happen again.” He looked to his left and right at the row of musketmen, his gaze lingering on those with their heads hung low. “Learn from your mistake, and all will be forgotten. Repeat it, and well, we’ll have to help you learn. Understood?”

Their answer came as a unified chorus. “Aye, captain!”

Sjan-dehk nodded, then waved his hand. “Dismissed. Mursi, write up a new roster and deployment when you're able.”

He didn’t wait for them to fully disperse before returning his attention to the woman, and only then did he remember that she could probably understand most of what he had said. “Ah, sorry,” he said with flushed cheeks. “Rude of me. Just wanted to get that all done and out of the way as soon as possible. Better that way, yes?” He popped the last of the bun into his mouth and quickly ate it. Offering her a little grin, he continued, “Besides, I think having the one who got them in trouble around would make them commit it all to memory a little better.”

Was he being a little too casual with a woman – whose name he still didn’t know, no less – who had snuck aboard his ship? Probably. But she didn’t seem to mean any harm. If she did, she could’ve done whatever she needed to do a long time ago instead of wandering about like a sightseer. Neither did she seem to be particularly unsavoury or loathsome.

“You’re right, Sada Kurau is a beautiful ship.” That was another reason why Sjan-dehk decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. The compliment had sounded sincere enough to his ears, and anyone who could appreciate the beauty of his ship would already be on the same page with him. Within the same book, at the very least. “If you want to see her, you just have to ask. I’m more than happy to show you around.” He paused, then continued, “Oh, and you only answered two of my questions. Who are you?”

🗡 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?”