Not too far from DalMarkaan and the elven sister’s struggles, in the midst of the SajaRuun Ocean …
Lightning flashed over the dark and cloudy silhouette of the stormy night sky, cutting through the darkness like glowing spears of heavenly energy, illuminating the churned-up waves of the nightly ocean. Electric bolts darted through the darkness in short succession, followed by waves of blood-curdling rolling thunder. Heavy rain pattered on the heaving surface of the sea, covering it in a dress of ripple waves and spume. A high wind was blowing, howling through the night, sometimes forcing the myriad of rain drops into ghostly shapes before touching down on the water’s surface.
In midst of the thunderstorm, a huge ship fought its way through the massive waves of water. The sea went up over its bow as black steel sank in deeply into the water, the keel tearing apart the cold sea and then rising up into the night sky, just to dive back down into the next wave again and again. The moving vessel’s bow wave and stern wake were barely visible due to the churned-up waters, and it looked like it wouldn’t move at all while making a stand against the rough weather and sea.
The ship was one of the Wanderers of SajaRuun’s capital ships. A capital ship was a giant catamaran, a multi-hulled vessel consisting of two parallel hulls of equal size, having a length of about 320 meters and a wide beam of about 100 meters, from which the vessel derived its pitch stability. The two hulls of a capital ship enabled it to heel much less than a monohull vessel, and limited heeling meant the ride on a capital ship was much more comfortable for passengers and crew than on ordinary ships. The hulls were joined by a sophisticated structure combining accommodation into the bridging superstructure. Capital ships were made of wood and metal; even elements of sculpted stone had been used in its construction process. The majority of the vessel’s body was made of wood, reinforced by metal layers and frames. A capital ship was considered to be a swimming fortress; its two hulls were both covered with over hundred starboard and portside hatches, a heavy cannon mounted behind every one of them, arranged over five gun decks. An array of catapults mounted on deck, as well as several turret-mounted cannons at the fore and aft sections of the ship completed the armament. The towering central superstructure of the vessel was divided into several decks and contained the main mast and the crow’s nest, as well as the helm, officer quarters, and the captain’s quarters.
Two people, a man and a woman, stood on top of the quarterdeck at the capital ship’s centralized helm, the handles of the steering wheel fighting their hands as they both eagerly held it and thus the ship’s rudders in position. They sometimes looked down at the main deck where dozens of seamen struggled to hold down their jobs while being harried by the harsh conditions. The man was of average human statue. He had a tan skin color and black medium length hair. His face was bearded and angular, his visage foretelling that he had seen the world and beyond. At first glance, he seemed to be around forty years of age. He was dressed in clothes which were typical for seamen, yet the shoulder pads of his attire, as well as his hat were decorated with a variety of symbols and runes, telling anyone who encountered him on the ship that he had a very high rank. His garment was made from fine and firmly crafted fabric, however it looked worn out and heavily used. The woman standing besides him was of similar height, yet she had a quite curvy statue and a discreet muscular body shape. Her skin tone was much lighter than the man’s and littered with freckles, yet she was slightly tanned, probably due to being on deck most of the time. The high wind was blowing through her long mane of natural red hair, and her green-gray eyes were looking ahead steadily. The redhead also wore seaman’s clothing, yet hers was a bit more form-fitting and decorated with a variety of bony spikes which had been incorporated into the seams at the sides of her thighs and the forearms.
Now and then a strong breeze pushed into the giant vessel’s side, forcing the two human seamen to fight against the sudden rotary motion of the steering wheel. Although the work at the ship’s helm seemed laborious while driving through the thunderstorm, both humans were elated and chatted with each other.
“For the love of mother and child, Reyvan, that’s one hell of a storm!” shouted the woman. She smiled, her gaze still locked ahead the giant ship.
“We’ve seen worse, haven’t we, Cora?” replied the man as he looked up into the stormy night sky.
“Aye, captain.” answered Cora. “Much worse indeed. However, it feels like our windmills are put to their maximum strain.”
“They can stand it. … The ship can stand it.” said captain Reyvan with a persuasive voice.
A capital ship was not a sailing vessel; it was driven by a huge single paddle wheel to propel the craft through the water. The paddle wheel was mounted on the rear of the ship, between the two hulls of the vessel. It was a large steel framework wheel, its outer edge fitted with with numerous, regularly-spaced paddle blades. The wheel was rotated by two mage-stone engines, magically enhanced devices located in the rear section of each hull, together with a sophisticated combination of chains, levers and cog-wheels for translating the windmill’s rotation to the engine core. Mechanics were staffed with moving the tiller and rudder, one at the aft of each hull. The main deck of a capital ship carried a variety of windmills, usually eight; four on top of the starboard hull and four on top of the portside hull. The upper sections of those windmills which carried the winged wheel were capable of rotating around their vertical axis and thus can be turned to face the wind’s direction. Right now, the high wind put a lot of strain onto the wings of the windmills, as well as the brakes which were reducing the rotation of the windmill’s winged wheels to a viable speed.
Cora smiled and looked over to her captain. The Reyvan’s Blade was indeed much more durable than any ordinary sailing ship she had served on in the past, though it was quite inappropriate to compare a capital ship like the Reyvan’s Blade to an ordinary sailing ship; it would be like comparing a homestead with a fortified castle. Cora wanted to confirm her captain’s statement – the ship was indeed capable of suffering much more stress than a thunderstorm was able to deliver, but her intent was suddenly interrupted by a loud male voice shouting from the crow’s nest above her:
“Alarm! Rogue wave ahead, coming in fast from starboard!”
Captain Reyvan reacted nearly instantly, his voice loud and commanding, yet experienced and without any signs of stress:
“Hard to starboard, Cora! We need to turn her bow toward the wave.”
While Reyvan and Cora twirled the massive steering wheel clockwise, the captain looked at the part of his crew who was working in the vicinity of the ship’s helm and commanded:
“To yer emergency stations, the lot o’ ye!”
“Signal the armada to stay in wor lee!”
“Full ahead! I want the wheel dig a cleft into that friggin’ ocean.”
“Get up off yer butts!”
The chain of command worked aboveboard. The majority of the crew which were within the captain’s voice’s reach obeyed his orders directly, while some officers of the crew were seconded to forward the captain’s commands through the vessel to the aft of the ship where certain crewmen were ordered to stay in contact with the convoying ships by using light signals.
The crew of a capital ship was responsible for operating the vessel. The remaining part of a capital ship’s population consisted of the passengers. Passengers were divided into two groups, native passengers and temporary passengers. Native passengers inhabited the ship, but they had nothing to do with the ship’s operation. They lived on-board and offered non ship-related services such as catering, barbershops, schools, etc. All of the native passengers of a ship were bound by instructions. All temporary passengers, those who were just transported from one point to another, had more freedom, but still had to stick to a set of special rules for external passengers. A capital ship had an average crew size of 2000 members and a native population count of about 800 people. It had a capacity for transporting up to 6200 external passengers.
A capital ship usually was accompanied by an armada of smaller vessels, usually sailing vessels ranging from freighters to armed corvettes, etc. One of the main purposes of the armada, besides protecting and supplying the capital ship, was to transfer passengers and goods from the land to the capital ship and vice versa. A capital ship never landed at a coast or harbor; it always remained anchored offshore, away from coastal waters. The armada of a capital ship was bound to its mother vessel; every supply ship was tagged with the marking of its mother vessel. The captain of a supply vessel commanded his ship, yet had to take up a subordinate role to a capital ship’s captain.
The rogue wave which was coming closer had an estimated height of about thirty meters, a mile-wide monstrosity made out of dark ocean water. The phenomenon was difficult to assess due to the adverse weather conditions. The only chance to avoid the wave to become a collapsing breaker and thus becoming a serious threat to not only the capital ship, but to the whole armada, was to pass it before it would reach its point of collapse. Since the Reyvan’s Blade was far away from any coastal line, the chances of the rogue wave collapsing on the open water was small, yet given, and the captain wanted to minimize the risk of capsizing any of his convoy’s vessels.
Reyvan and Cora, as well as the rest of the deck crew, held fast to whatever solid structure they were able to grasp. As the capital ship started to climb the approximating mountain of water, Cora sent a quick prayer:
“Siramaar, Spirit of the water, Mother of mankind – you word is our beacon in the darkness. Guide us through what lies ahead of us.”
“AMEN!” chorused Cora and Reyvan.
The capital ship’s pitch was steep rising, its bow now towering above the sea, pointing toward the nightly sky. The blades of the giant paddle wheel of the vessel dug into the churning water relentlessly, slowly propelling the ship toward the rogue wave’s peak. The captain’s plan succeeded. The Reyvan’s Blade lived up its name, as the two bows of the giant catamaran pierced through the wave’s upper rim. For a brief moment, the capital ship looked like it would start to fly into the air any moment, then gravity took its toll and the massive hull of the ship sank down with a growling moan. The thunderous splashdown jolted through all of the vessel’s body, while wooden planks and metal frames worked against each other with creaky sounds, giving a lot of structural stress to all of the ship’s body. As the bow of the ship sunk down deeply into the ocean again, surges of cold water washed over the main deck, dragging anyone who had not fastened himself to a solid structure with it. Captain Reyvan looked about in order to spot if any person had fallen overboard; luckily he had a highly experienced crew who knew what to do and how to behave in certain critical situations.
“Wooo hooo! Fly, baby, fly!” Cora screamed joyfully as the ships bow impacted on the ocean’s surface. This was exactly the type of action she was looking for, dealing with whatever task Siramaar had bestowed upon her and the ship. The situation, the masses of water – it all was gasoline poured onto the flame of the adventure-hungry woman.
Captain Reyvan was still highly concentrated and kept on commanding his crew with the composure of a seafaring veteran, his voice still shouting aloud without being stressed:
“Damage report to the bridge!”
“I wanna have all of my armada to report back to me!”
“We’re leaving no-one behind, did ye hear me, ye lot?”
The words ‘Aye, captain!’ echoed over the main deck a bunch of times as the crewmen followed their superior’s commands. Having left the rogue wave behind, the commotion on deck started to fade and the crewmen slowly went back to their normal activities. There wouldn’t be a successive rogue wave, that captain Reyvan was sure of. Rogue waves were single waves, their origin clouded under a veil of mystery. The Wanderers of SajaRuun believed that those large waves were godly tests bestowed upon the seafaring folk to sort out those who were not worthy of sailing or faring the ocean. Their deity Siramaar, the spirit of water and the ocean and cradle of mankind, was capable of giving life, was well as taking it back.
After captain Reyvan had received his requisitioned reports, he approached his first helmsman again. Cora’s clothes were drenched with water, her hair wet and flabby, yet the young woman held fast to the steering wheel, her visage foretelling she was in a good temper.
“Good work, mate. This was exactly yer cup of tea, eh?” smiled Reyvan.
Cora grinned impishly: “Aye, you know me.”
“I’ll go down and look after the engines. Keep the steer due north.” After ordering his helmsman, Reyvan turned his head around and shouted:
“Second helmsman, fall in!”
After his command was relayed several times and thus spread towards the crew quarters, a young man approached speedily, came to a halt on the ship’s helm right before his captain and stood at attention.
“Resume my post and assist helmsman Cora.” commanded Reyvan as he stepped aside to make place for the new one. “The storm’s still too heavy for just one to hold on the wheel.”
After the new crewman reassured his orders with the typical ‘Aye aye, captain.’ phrase and assumed his position, Reyvan set off for the portside engine room and left the helm.
The way down from the Revan’s Blade’s helm to the main deck required the captain to walk for some time while passing several intermediate decks which were part of the ship’s bridging superstructure. Having arrived on the main deck, Reyvan walked to the aft of his ship and examined the giant paddle wheel. The massive metal structure was rotating relentlessly, its blades sinking deeply into the churned ocean, dragging through the splashing water, a display of sheer raw technological and magical power.
The core element of a capital ship’s propulsion technology was the mage-stone sphere. It was basically a large piece of rock which was saturated with marbles of Orichalcum and thus capable of storing powerful ritual-bound elemental magical energy. Once empowered with magic, the mage-stone sphere had been split into two halves, two hemispheres to be precise. Both halves had remained sticking together like two magnets and had to be separated with force. However, even after they had been separated, but had remained in direct vicinity to each other, one half of the sphere always maintained a relative position toward the other half. For example, if turned around the axis perpendicular to the cut edge, the other half of the rock did the same, which was the basic principle behind the mage-stone engine. Part one of the mage-stone sphere was directly connected to the ship’s paddle wheel through a massive axis; part two of the spherical rock was connected to the mechanics of the windmills on deck.
After walking several minutes and descending into the belly of his ship, Reyvan finally reached the portside engine room. A variety of crewmen worked in the area, cleaning, maintaining the mechanics, etc. It was noisy down here; all of the moving parts of the ship’s propulsion, as well as a strange sizzling and crackling sound emanating from the mage-stone sphere halves, mixed up in a cacophony of awkward sounds.
The mage-stone engine always was a sight to behold. The rocky sphere had an average diameter of seven meters and was built in a massive framework of steel and wood which allowed it to rotate around its main axis. A series of clutches were attached to the part of the axis which was connected to the paddle wheel, and a giant cog wheel connected the other part of the axis with the windmill’s. The space between the two flat cross sections of the mage-stone halves was about half a meter wide. A vortex of glittering white magic particles rotated fast in between the two hemispheres and hundreds of tiny flashes of bright light see-sawed between both cross sections, looking like small lightning strikes. All of the mage-stone sphere was clouded with wafting dark veil of magic energy, sometimes interacting with the glowing particles which were emanating between the flat surfaces of the hemispheres and jolting towards the outer rim of the magic rock.
Reyvan beckoned one of the workers to come to him. After the man had approached, he leaned his head toward the crewman and addressed him with his voice loud enough to surpass the surrounding noise:
“Oy! How are wor engines doin’?”
“Pretty good, captain.” answered the engineer and continued: “We have a lot of magic friction built up in the rock. The windmills yield a lot of energy right now, but that’s nothing ye olde machine can’t handle, sir.”
Reyvan nodded slightly and dug deeper:
“How’s the starboard engine?”
“Same, same, captain.” replied the crewman, “we’re far from having reached maximum capacity.”
One of the greatest benefits of a mage-stone engine was its capacity to store magic elemental energy within the rock. While almost always rotating, the windmills were able to charge the mage-stone with rotation energy while the capital ship was standing still, and the mage-stone engines were capable of releasing any stored magical energy to the paddle wheel during still air. This enabled a capital ship to be always maneuverable.
“Good to hear. We …”
Reyvan paused. There was another thought jumping into his mind which caused him to stop speaking, a well-known yet alien mental voice, sent to him from the depths of the ocean.
Most of the ship’s crew who had direct contact to their captain were used to this suddenly occurring phenomenon. When the captain was in contact with his Aramaar, mainly when being on the receiving side of the mental link, he often go distracted from what he was doing for an instant. Further more, everyone on board knew that having contact to an Aramaar was way more important than any other duty the captain was on at the time.
“Is she calling you, captain?” asked the engineer, looking knowing.
“Aye, she’s here.” replied Reyvan and continued: “And she’d been away much too long.”
The Aramaar, also known as Children of the Water, were considered to be descendants of Siramaar. They were humanoid hybrid creatures, having both lungs and gills in order to be able to live on the world’s surface, as well as in the water, which was their native element. Their gills were located on the sides of their torso. They were true hermaphrodites and thus had both male and female genitalia, primary and secondary sexual characteristics alike. An Aramaar had two legs and two arms and a silver colored scaled skin with traces of blue, as well as a very sleek skin texture. They had webbed fingers and toes, as well as a prehensile tail which can be used as a fin for swimming under water. The joints of their limbs were much more flexible than those of an ordinary human, granting them the ability to swim and dive masterfully.
They had no bodily hair, yet a variety of tentacles covering their head, granting them an almost human appearance. Aramaar had human-like faces with slightly larger eyes and long pointed ears, but without noses and nostrils. Their eyes were usually silver-colored and covered with a nictitating membrane. They possessed a unique ability – they were capable of contacting and communicating with other Aramaar telepathically (magically) through the water. Having this ability, an Aramaar was capable of sharing their thoughts with others of their kind, providing a highly efficient communication network through the ocean. Aramaar were considered holy and thus clouded by a certain veil of mystery, due to the fact that their only contact to human beings was through a capital ship’s captain.
Once a generation, they sought to make contact to the humans of the Wanderers of SajaRuun in order to enable their younglings to find a spiritual human soul mate. This was done in the context of conducting a sacred ritual in which young human children had the chance to be blessed by Siramaar to become a capital ship’s captain. The ritual was done on the open sea and contained the summoning of young Aramaar. If one of the summoned Aramaar was willing to choose one of the children to stay with, the human child was considered to be a chosen one. A chosen one’s training began with the establishment and fortification of a soul bond with the Aramaar, called the Captain’s Bond.
Once the bond had been established, the chosen child and the young Aramaar stayed together for the rest of their lives. If one of the partners died, the other one followed and died as well. After a short time, the bond became a profound connection between the two partners which did not require any physical contact, but which can be temporarily strengthened through physical contact. The intensity of the strengthened bond depended on the form of contact; the more intimate the contact was, the stronger the connection would be. The Aramaar’s nature of being hermaphrodites was beneficial here; they were capable of getting intimate with women and men alike. Aramaar were very passionate beings; they often sought to be with their partner for more than just communicational purposes.
After crossing over the rear part of his ship’s main deck, Reyvan had finally reached the mooring deck. The thunderstorm didn’t make it easy for anyone on the ship to maintain a secure footing; the vessel’s heeling was much more than usual because of the rough sea. However, Reyvan was an old hand and knew how to deal with his ship’s movements. As he opened one of the rear side hatches, a surge of water washed through the opening and partially flooded the wooden floor. Raindrops waved inside, and the noise of the paddle wheel carving through the water nearby filled the deck. He grabbed a convoluted rope ladder, attached the outer end of it to the floor near the open hatch, and unreeled it outside.
It was difficult for Reyvan to observe the outside area due to all of the spray and the stirred ocean. The moonlight was barely illuminating the surroundings and the lanterns lighting the ship were not meant to cover much of the outside area. It didn’t take long for the Aramaar to arrive. Minutes after the captain had fastened the rope ladder, a fast moving silhouette, barely visible in the dark ocean water, darted towards the ladder and nearly jumped out of the water. As the creature started to climb up the ladder, Reyvan reached out and offered his exotic partner a hand to enter the ship.
There she stood, in all of her beauty, her silver-scaled skin glittering in the light of the moon and lanterns. The Aramaar had a very slender yet discreet muscular female body shape. She was about 1.75 meters tall. Her prehensile tail, which was about one and a half times longer than her legs, see-sawed behind her in anticipation. The tentacles which covered her head moved slightly, and her silver eyes gazed at Reyvan, excited, zealously. While her gills slowly came to rest and forced her lungs to resume the breathing, the Aramaar took some deep breaths, sucking in the air to adopt her body to the new environment.
Reyvan smiled. The process the Aramaar was going through was well known to him. It only required the hybrid some moments to adapt to breathing air instead of water. After giving his partner the time she needed, Reyvan welcomed her with open arms while approaching slowly. Now that she was here on the ship again, he felt her presence, not only within his mind, but also within his body. He had goose-flesh, felt excited and longed to feel her touches, her soft scaled skin, all of her. As they finally fell in each others arms, the world around them seemed to vanish for some moments, as the bond between them filled their consciousnesses. It was true love what connected their hearts, and a strong magic bond that connected their minds; a connection of soul-mates, forged with trust and for a lifetime.
“I missed you-mmmh …”
Reyvan’s words were suddenly interrupted as the Aramaar closed her eyes and pressed her lips onto the captain’s, kissing him dearly, their tongues caressing each other passionately. There were still traces of saltiness on her lips, a side effect from having emerged from the ocean a short time ago. However, it was something Reyvan was used to. After what felt like eternity for both lovers, they parted their lips and looked into each others eyes, smiling happily.
“I missed you too, my love,” replied the Aramaar with a cute, yet alien, female voice. Her underlying voice was that of a young female, but it was overlain by another, slightly higher-pitched voice, which was the reason for sounding a bit strange and non-human.
“Let’s go to our quarters. I have important news to forward,” continued the hybrid.
The way from the ship’s belly to the captain’s quarters required Reyvan and the Aramaar to walk for about twenty minutes. One reason was the size of the vessel and its lots of decks. The other reason was that the couple got periodically interrupted by crewmen and passengers who wanted to be in the presence of a Child of the Water, a living descendant of their deity Siramaar. They were praising her, cheering her, sometimes begging to be blessed, touched, etc.
About half an hour later, Reyvan and the Aramaar had reached the captain’s quarters and finally had some rest and time for themselves. They made themselves comfortable on a chaiselongue as captain Reyvan began to speak:
“Sirai my love; please tell me the news you’ve brought.”
“The word of the Kazdruk planning to spread out their dominion’s chain to DalMarkaan spreads like a wildfire and has finally reached the SajaRuun Ocean,” replied Sirai and continued:
“When this happens, this will most likely affect all of us – all of the Wanderers of SajaRuun, as well as our independence in the world. We may have been targeted by the Kazdruk anyway.”
Reyvan got thoughtful. One of the Wanderers of SajaRuun’s greatest magnitudes was their social structure. They were nomads of the ocean, and their social structure was purely based upon their capital ships and the associated on-board population. Each capital ship formed its own governmental unit. There was no single ruler or centralized government standing above the ships, no king or queen, no president, etc. This distributed system of governance made the Wanderers of SajaRuun hard to be targeted entirely, especially when it came to conflicts. Their social structure could be compared to a peer-to-peer network, granting everyone of its members a high level of independence.
“Is this your personal opinion, Sirai, or do your words reflect the opinion of other Aramaar?”
“Both, my love,” answered Sirai, “most of us fear that the Kazdruk’s presence on both DelHelshan and DalMarkaan may compromise our territory, bit by bit.”
“This is of great gravity indeed!” The captain’s gaze got serious. “I think the time has come for the Wanderers of SajaRuun to pick a side.”
Sirai was astonished by her partner’s words. The Wanderers of SajaRuun had always kept their distance from the affairs of the landsmen and thus maintained their political independence. However, an event like the Kazdruk invasion was of such a great magnitude, it would be perilous to just step aside and watch, that she was sure of.
“Is there word when the Kazruk plan to strike DalMarkaan?” asked Reyvan.
“The Megan’s Hope has recently picked up elven passengers from the Coast of Crystals, and they heard rumors about the invasion could be just a matter of days now.” replied Sirai with a tense voice.
Reyvan grabbed both of Sirai’s hands with his own and looked into his soul mate’s eyes. His visage foretold seriousness and solicitude as he continued to speak.
“We’re not far away from DalMarkaan, just about two days of traveling westward. If the time has come for the Wanderers of SajaRuun to leave their shell of staying out of trouble, then the Reyvan’s Blade will answer this unspoken call of duty.”
Sirai was pleased with her partner’s words and moved her face near Reyvan’s:
“Let’s head to DalMarkaan’s east coast. We may have the chance to pick up refugees, since we still have room for more than 450 passengers at least.”
“Aye, my love. And if we encounter Kazdruk forces, we’ll show them why our capital ships are also called ‘swimming fortresses’.” Reyvan paused, then continued, “Tell it to the others. May other capital ships follow our lead, and may Siramaar protect us on our new path.”
Reyvan kissed Sirai’s hands and then rose from the chaiselongue.
“I’ll instruct my helmsman to set course. Don’t leave, my love, I’ll be back in some minutes.”
Sirai nodded and smiled. A mixture of being worried and being happy spun within her mind. She realized that she just wanted to be with her soul mate. After days of swimming in the ocean and communicating with her kin, she was slightly exhausted, yet full of desire for being with Reyvan. However, she was patient with him, as he was the Reyvan’s Blade’s captain and much in demand.
After some minutes of walking fast, the captain approached the ship’s helm again and instructed his first helmsman Cora:
“Oy, Cora! Set course for DalMarkaan. Wor port of destination is the delta south of the Obsidian Cliff.“
“Aye, captain.” Cora and the second helmsman obeyed the captain’s order and turned the steering wheel counter-clockwise, turning the giant ship on a westward course. The red-haired woman was surprised about the captain’s sudden order and addressed him curiously:
“What are we doing over there, captain?”
The second helmsman lifted an eyebrow upon Cora’s question. It was unusual for a subordinate to question the captain’s orders. However, Cora was more than an ordinary subordinate to the captain; she was more like a friend. Reyvan put his hand on Cora’s shoulder and answered:
“The Reyvan’s Blade is going to meddle with the Kazdruk, Cora. The time has come to respond to that demon threat. They’ll soon invade DalMarkaan, so we’ll do what is necessary to save some souls.”
“First Goldulin and the east. Now they start to invade the western continent…” mumbled Cora, then continued to verbalize her thoughts while looking at Reyvan’s face: “They’ll probably not stop there and pursue to spread their dominion’s chain over the sea, won’t they?”
Reyvan’s visage got severe, yet sanguine, as he answered his first helmsman:
“We are the Wanderers of SajaRuun. We are the sea! And no-one but us shall rule over the sea.”