The Great South Sea t'was called– the largest sea of the known world. Once the Great Chasm of Yuvon. But the fall of Effinitia and the plucking of Tarshith from the Terra opened the ravine to the Quendi Ocean's currents. A flood swallowed the depths and formed the Great South Sea, which extended far across the span of Jania until arriving at the land crossing known as Asur's Arm in the east end of the continent.
This vast expanse of water was populated by various island tribes, mostly Mahadum and Karfolk. Its far end from Anor had some easterlings too. Waves crashed against the bow of the Silver Maiden. A west-sent wind pushed alongside the pull of the galley's oars onwards to the east.
Trenewynn lay in storage, squeezed tight between the crates of ore. Then, when a few hours had passed and the port of Anor lay upon the fading horizon, the captain released the oarsmen. He pushed the ship onwards solely on windspeed.
The first mate came down to inform Trenewynn that he was cleared to come up above. So, the robed wanderer moved to the upper deck to take in the salty air and gaze at the blue skies above.
"Ahoy ye sandwalker! To the deck, I would have a word."
The wanderer dressed in black and white gave a last fleeting glance to the cotton clouds before moving to the captain's deck.
"Hail, Captain Maxmillian. The men say our journey ends at the first days of the Birth of Akkaane-Sòlë. Have we been delayed perhaps?"
The captain took his blackgrass pipe and gave it a drag. He puffed out a wriggling black smog which Trenewynn strongly rejected. He stepped back a pace, withholding the urge to scowl.
"'Tis nothing of that matter boy. But the wind… I smell it."
"Something wrong with the wind?"
"Aye, sea-lizards like to use windy days like this one to conceal their foul stench."
"They conceal their scent on the winds, how so?" asked Trenewynn
"'Tis the salt and the current. Sea-lizards have an instinct for these things. They can tell the direction of the winds by the feel of the waves, and use it to hide their rank smell upwards to the breeze so as to deceive us."
"But why tell me now, when we've only just left Anor? Are raids so common by lizardmen?"
"Not in daylight, no. 'Tis the night raids ye must be wary of. Sleep with an eye open."
"Yet a man of your seafaring expertise would've foresaw this before departure. 'Tis not so that you've prepared a night watch already?"
The captain scoffed, expelling another cloud of black fog as he did so.
"Course I have, but not for stowaways as yerself. Remember this, sandwalker, for I tell ye now in good faith. Ye only be on my ship because ye paid the fee. But health and wellness is a man's own business. We'd be just as satisfied to collect the coin off yer corpse than break bread with ye, if the rain gets heavy…"
Trenewynn bowed his head slightly, "then I will surely watch my own cot, and tend my own food and drink, as promised."
"Aye…" the captain said.
He took in the wanderer's demeanor. Trenewynn was by every right a healthy lad, except the downcast of his eyes that seemed distracted by a sight no man can see.
"On a different matter, why yer face resembles the long wallow of the southern marlin? What winds have brought ye eastbound sandwalker?"
Trenewynn shook his head, "'Tis not a matter I'd trouble you with, truly. Just a lament I feel after meeting an old friend."
"Let's hear the story. Might be a fair entertainment for the day."
The wanderer obliged, "My sorrows come from empathy. I feel sad because my friend is in pain. But I cannot understand why."
Captain Maxmillian took another drag of his pipe and puffed a black ring against the white clouds afar the horizon. It dispersed swiftly against the wind.
"'Tis a friend…? and what manner of friendship shared the both of ye?"
"We were comrades for many years. T'was long ago that I found him a troubled man. With time, he came to heal and turned from his old ways. But after parting for a long time, I've returned to find him distant, detached, worn down…"
There was a sea drift under the starboard bow, the captain gave an order to adjust the rudder in the interim of Trenewynn's speech.
After gathering his thoughts, Trenewynn asked, "Tell me, Captain Maxmillian, does Lord Ramnicus of Anor seem a steady man to you?"
The captain's brow bent. He inhaled a wisp of smog and pulled the rim of his cap down for some shade.
"Aye, he's steady. Stubborn as the ocean rocks."
"Why is that," asked Trenewynn.
"What?"
"I asked, why is that? Why does a man as long-lived as him become reckless instead of wise with his years?"
Maximillian shook his head and said, "ye'ave a particular issue with the Lord of Anor's affairs? The people seem to like him well enough."
Trenewynn's gaze slipped back towards the city behind him now. A gentle breath passed his lips in isolation.
"I meant no offense, 'tis just– Anor stands no chance against the empire. Yet the lord gathers his armies and moves as if to secede. 'Tis not a reckless action from one who is supposed to be wise?"
"All men fear the locker, but if it be inevitable, many would seek arms against it for their dignity. Did not the War God Asur give us the right of conflict that we might prove our souls against Az?"
The captain added, "The ole' lord chooses to fight because the people wish for it. What more should be called wisdom if not to know his people's hearts?"
Trenewynn grasped the rail at the edge of the deck. He replied, "yet I am sure 'tis not the only– nor the best course to take. He lost so much in those days to make right the city at the cusp of the Dark Mists, for Ramnicus was not always called the Saint of Anor. The war he now seeks to fight– 'tis a curtain of shadow that shall blind all of us. 'Tis then so that none who seek the light can see clearly in the dark. And I fear the dark deeply."
"How fancy you put it," said Maxmilian.
The captain puffed, "well, I ain't no savant, but I figure a man pushing 3,000 is bound to lose a few inhibitions. Perhaps even become reckless as ye say."
"I can't understand…" replied the wanderer.
Maximillian gave a stare that questioned Trenewynn on the quickness of his wit, but held his tongue. The man's brooding face was an irritating sight. Yet Maxmillian swore on all the gods and waves that he saw a glint of gold in his amber eyes. He held his tongue a moment to calm himself.
After another smoke-choked breath, he spoke, "maybe the gods would not see the passing days. But how could a man, in his numbered hours, not conceive of the time he has lost with age? Of course the lord of Anor sitting up in his high tower would feel it keenly more than the natural immortals like gods or elves."
"You mean to say that Ramnicus can perceive something that gods cannot? But would they not be wiser? For they want not what resides on the Terra, and can perceive past its simple passings."
The captain grunted, "aye, but that is the folly of gods."
Trenewynn seemed baffled.
"The folly of gods?"
"Aye, their folly. Surely a mere sailor as I thinks not to know the gods, or suggest their highness is beyond to lament what is lost. But they're like the waves: endless and everlasting. 'Tis easy for the gods– in their permanence, to cast the die and accept its outcome for greater or lesser odds."
The captain glanced at his pipe. The blackgrass was all ash now. He pulled a copper cask from his coat and plucked some dark weed from it. Placing the weed on the end of his pipe, he took a match to his leather coatside and relit the pipe anew.
Giving Trenewynn a discerning glance, he continued his speech, "men are a different breed: they're like the rocks. We were made to live and die. Yet one who persists and cannot die, would surely still anticipate its coming all the same. He shall fear it– as all men do, and shall know it– just as it is. He shall think each year that death grows closer even as he persists for another in a line of lifetimes lived."
Maximillian felt the blackgrass numb his chest and appear to heighten his visual acuity. Merely a mild hallucination, but one comforting to the captain.
He concluded, "this shall perhaps continue for a man made immortal onto perpetuity. He shall feel the terror keenly as a blade on the neck until his heart and spirit are crushed. Then still, the husk will live on soulless. For all men are meant to die one day, and not to simply persist as gods do. Should ye not feel this too, if a man ye be?"
"I am but a humble wanderer."
"Aye… but enough of these matters. The day is yet young still, enjoy the pleasant air, sandwalker. The sea-lizards will not leave it unspoiled come the night."
The captain waved him off and Trenewynn moved towards the bow to watch the clouds. He saw them drag across the canvas of the sky and witnessed a white bird flutter just above the waves. A small speck with flapping wings. It soothed him a little. The sun above their heads moved into the west, casting its rays towards Anor behind him.