[center]

[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220927/23fb834f443fddf069b302a80ffae13a.png[/img]
[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220927/713c9ea7f90a3bccf2680492bc93671a.png[/img]
[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220928/bcf4c8fb894d886cf1f86d12d903935e.png[/img]

[color=1E90FF][b]Interactions[/b]: Kalliope [@Tae][/color]
[color=1E90FF][b]Mentions[/b]:[/color]
[color=1E90FF][b]Time[/b]: 1800[/color]
[/center]
[color=#8D3B72]“Did you know that most of their navy can’t swim?”[/color]

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 [i]Sada Kurau[/i], 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 [i]Sudah[/i] 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 [i]Sada Kurau[/i] 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.

[color=1E90FF]“I haven’t actually seen any ships of your navy, actually,”[/color] he said after clearing his throat. [color=1E90FF]“So I’m not going to say much about them or their crews, but I can say with confidence that everyone aboard [i]Sada Kurau[/i] is able to swim. She wouldn’t accept anything less.”[/color] 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. [color=1E90FF]“Who-”[/color] 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 [i]Jafin[/i] – 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. [color=1E90FF]“This Izahn,”[/color] he began and placed both hands on the guardrail, looking down at the gnarled wood. [color=1E90FF]“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.”[/color] He paused, wondering how he was going to explain that in a way that didn’t sound too dismissive or flippant of the matter. [color=1E90FF]“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?”[/color]

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. [color=1E90FF]“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.”[/color] 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. [color=1E90FF]“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.”[/color]

Pushing himself off the guardrail, he looked at her, and bowed his head. [color=1E90FF]“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.”[/color] Looking back up, he offered her a little smile. Not a cheeky grin or mischievous smirk, but a genuine, emotive one. [color=1E90FF]“Izahn’s soul rests with the Mother of the Waves now, as will all Jafin souls. May he find calm waters and verdant shores.”[/color]

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. [color=1E90FF]“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.”[/color] 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. [color=1E90FF]“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.”[/color] He looked out at the horizon. [color=1E90FF]“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.”[/color]

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.