Sarel allowed himself to continue resting when they returned back to the ship as well. He entered into a deep meditation allowed primarily by the incantations brought on by the enunciations of certain prayers. Most of the practice was contained in the tomes and scrolls, but Sarel had studied them so much that he hardly had to look at them anymore. Of course, if his training could have continued he would have had to learn all sorts of new incantations and prayers so his overall knowledge would be slightly less vast. But, as Beilin continuously quoted: “The value of intelligence is in understanding, and compensating for, how little one will ever truly know.” The meditations helped ease his mind, calm his scorned soul among the turbulent darkness of his thoughts. 

The next morning Sarel sent his Khajiit group member Jharo to look for the Port Authority they’d met when the ship first arrived. He had some questions to ask and wanted to know when the best time to meet him would be. Sarel worked on tying any loose ends in terms of the ships repairs. Sure, his work would never all be done, but he’d done enough now that all that would be needed in the near future would be minor maintenance. After that he trained the members in his group about combat awareness and general rules for perceptive fighting, along with relatively simple combat maneuvers. The next day was about supplies as Sarel began to notice what Sharee did as well, their target was getting ready to move. She’d already set her plan in motion so the only thing left for them to do was wait. He picked up some things for maintaining his weapons and armor, as well as a surplus of some simple luxuries he enjoyed from the island, like the cranberry flowers and coco pecans (each with its own unutterable name). He also made sure to meet with the authority in a bar. He disclosed the location of a head-shop keeper in town who could supply him with a fair supply of [i]verde[/i]. Indeed, Sarel was able to meet with the elderly Khajiit inside his two story home, and eventually came to an agreement of 400 gold for roughly five pounds. It was a decent deal and Sarel saw no issue with it himself. He got back to the ship around nightfall, only having time to play a game of dice with Serge before going to sleep. The next morning Sarel was on deck as the sun rolled itself onto the firmament. He was busy on an extra grinding wheel he’d found below deck and brought to be used above. His Katana sparked a little here and there as he moved the dark metal along the stone. This was the first time in a long time that he’d sharpened the steel, but he thought it was the perfect time since he’d found this extra piece of equipment, it was serendipitous. He wore his leather breaches with a towel around his midsection to mop up the sweat from his bare back as the sun began to beat down on him. The early morning turned to mid-day as Sarel tuned his swords and watched the activity on the target ship increase. Sharee received all the information she needed when she called everyone to the ship. Sarel went to work on the wakizashi as people began readying the ship. Serge sauntered over wearing nothing but black cloth pants and a white blouse, since the days had been getting hotter, and watched as the Dunmer sharpened his sword. 

“Are you expecting a fight soon?” Serge asked, a little like a child. 

“I’m always expecting a fight.” Sarel admitted as he ran the edge of the short sword along the stone, sweat falling from his pale blue skin. 

“Wolves lick their chops, men sharpen their swords: These are natural indicators.” Serge said confidently. 

“That would suggest that I consider my sword to be analogous to a wolves teeth, I don’t. There’s another element of me which serves that purpose.” Sarel said with a cool mysteriousness. 

“How are you feeling?” Serge asked, a little worry showing in his voice.

“Trapped,” Sarel began, “incomplete,” he continued, “hopeful” he concluded. “How about you?” He asked.

“Alright, I don’t know how long I can keep doing this though. I was thinking of setting a milestone for myself. Like, if we ever reach High Rock, let’s say.”

“What then?” Sarel asked, taking a break from the sword. 

“Maybe I’ll leave, maybe I won’t.” Serge remarked.

“You don’t like the responsibilities Sharee has bestowed upon you?”

“I feel more like an ornament. I don’t know if I actually have a job here at all.” 

“It’s an easy job. The officers as a whole are intimidating enough, add in lashings for minor infractions and a slightly sociopathic assassin as a captain, and you’ve got yourself a frightened crew. Luckily they feel comfortable enough to stay. An easy job is nothing to walk away from.” Sarel opined, trying to mostly convince himself. 

“Why not?” Serge asked with a shrug, “I’ve done it before.” 

Sarel went back to sharpening after a moment of consideration, finding he had nothing to say, and Serge went off to look at a card game which had just started. Sarel couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret, and he wondered if perhaps Serge wasn’t right after all.