The judge hadn't been exaggerating when he said that Vance's punishment would begin immediately. Almost as soon as the Barnollen was out of the chambers, Vance was ushered out himself, to the scornful glares and shouts of the crowd - it felt almost like the courtroom was going to turn into a mob scene. Clearly emotions were running high, and Vance was happy enough to be led out of that lion's den by Oran, who walked him out in a perfectly professional but otherwise disaffected manner. They walk directly from the rear entrance of the courtroom (where Oran grabbed a small envelope), through a long hall to exit a side door in the court house, and climbed into an open hackney that proceeded to take them to the docks.

Vance would have spoken to Oran, but he couldn't think of anything to say, and it was clear that Oran had completely lost interest in his charge. Vance couldn't even really thank Oran for his best efforts at his defense, as he was pretty sure that he hadn't gotten them; based on the crowd reaction, he could understand that even had a successful defense been possible, it would have likely been tantamount to career suicide for the already-harried advocate. Oran also had nothing to say, so they passed the ride to the docks in silence. Vance had never spent much time at the Khartok dockyard, preferring to stay in the urban center or his residential area, so he was at least intrigued by the size of the ships and the general bustle of the area. He was reminded while watching the men loading the cargo, or executing docking and loading maneuvers, of a well-timed choreographed dance done in a massive scale.

Before long, they disembarked and walked towards one boat in particular. Vance was pleasantly surprised to note that nobody had followed him, even to harass him. It would have been difficult for them to make the speed that he and Oran had, but certainly not impossible. Oran spoke briefly to one enormous man at the end of the gangway, delivered the envelope he had previously picked up in the courthouse, and turned to Vance to usher him aboard. Vance went up the ramp, thinking about how he had absolutely nothing - not even a change of clothes (and frankly, the ones he had on were starting to smell pretty bad). Oran must have been eager to depart; as soon as Vance's back foot hit the top of the gangway, Oran turned away and made a quick exit, and Vance was left alone.

The man that Oran had been talking to shouted a few instructions at some of the others running around, then came up and briefly introduced himself to Vance as Garal, the first mate. Garal was a huge man with arms the size of Vance's legs, and the way that he moved made him seem as if he had been purpose-built for a life on the sea. He was simply a machine, full of intent and efficiency, of strength and power. Not a man to cross, Vance cautioned himself, although Garal didn't seem particularly aggressive.

Garal told Vance the basics - that he was on a merchant ship, the kind that often accepted the city's commission to take an exiled citizen away. They were a more opportunistic enterprise than most, and often ran a pretty ragged course based on what goods they had to buy or sell, and who they thought that they could do business with that trip. While they were typically between endpoints of their route for a month or two at a time, with small stops to conduct business, Garal did not expect that it would be so long a trip for Vance. When accepting a commission, Garal explained, the fee was paid just to get the person gone - how far didn't really matter much. Since having an extra untrained person, especially one of questionable character, was generally more disruptive than helpful, they liked to offload their "human cargo" as quickly as possible; as a result, Vance would probably be dumped at the first supply stop that they made.

The first mate's explanations were halted by more pressing business, as he was being called left and right by his men, dock works, and what appeared to be accountants of some type. Garal stopped what he was saying mid-sentence and shook his head, then warned Vance not to bother the captain and to stay out of trouble - that Garal would find him later. A second later he seemed to be having three conversations at once while also helping to move crates around the hold. Vance couldn't tell if they were very late, or if this chaos was normal in such an environment, but he did what he could to simply stay out of the way and not make trouble. Eventually, a tall, well-dressed man emerged from a central cabin - the captain, Vance supposed - and began to call off a checklist of items that sent the men into an even faster pace. It was clear that they were about to depart.

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Just as the sun began to color the sky a reddish-orange hue, they took off, and Vance watched Khartok (and by extension, Juldania) disappear for what would almost surely be his first and last time. He floated back and forth between feeling sorry for himself, and being a bit seasick. Either way, he wasn't going to get up and move for a while. This spot was as good as any, Vance reckoned. While he looked out over the water, Garal made his return. "You know, when you live your life on a ship, sailing away from a city to the open sea feels more like going home than leaving it. But to leave your home, to nothing, that's a very different thing." Vance slowly turned to face the man, unsure if Garal was preparing to mock him.

"A lot of sailors have bad back stories," Garal continued. "A lot of mistakes left behind, and we don't pry. Let me give you a little advice. You probably noticed I didn't ask your name; I don't want to know it. I don't want to know what you did to get exiled, either. I'll probably forget all about you once you're gone, but whether I do or not, you've got a real opportunity for a one hundred percent fresh start. That's a rare gift, and I wouldn't expect you'll ever get it again. Take it seriously, figure out who you're going to be. Then tell people whatever you want - that's on you. but if I were you, I'd start by choosing a new name, and getting really used to it. Live in it for a bit."

Vance nodded at the unexpected kindness, and then turned back out to look at the shrouded form that was the rapidly-disappearing city. "By the way," Garal continued, "we need to talk about what you're going to do around here to help out." Vance spun around quickly, almost losing his footing (and close to the side of the boat, too, a sure sign of his newness at the water). "What do you mean? The judge, I mean..." Vance stopped for a second to collect his thoughts and words, lest he give away too much of his own story. "What I mean to say is that I was told that my fare was being provided." Garal chuckled a little. "Yup, that's right. Your passage is all paid up. But still, I figure you might want to eat, too, right? Nobody said anything about that." Garal smirked and made a show of looking Vance up and down.

"You probably won't be around long enough to make it worth teaching you much of anything. But that doesn't mean that there's nothing for you to do. You can take some shifts on night watch, which the men will appreciate. And of course, there's always deck cleaning to do. We're expecting some pretty heavy rain over the next few days - not much to be done about that - so you'll be busy enough. If you still have too much time on your hands and find yourself sitting around being pitiful, I'm sure I can find something else for you to do."

Vance didn't see that he could disagree with the man, and besides, it wasn't like he had something better to do. It was just one more example, he thought, of how far he had fallen; he might be out of prison, and avoided death or a life in jail, but still his time was not his own. Depressed, he simply nodded again, and said "OK then. When I've got a watch shift, what am I watching for, and what do I do when I see it?" Even in the dark, Vance could see the deck's lanterns lighten the first mate's face a little as a genuine smile crossed his face. "Good man," Garal replied. "I like it when a person is practical, gets right into things. Keep that up, don't make a fuss, and leave the captain alone - I can't stress that enough - and you'll be fine."

Garal grasped Vance by the shoulder and said "I'll take you around and introduce you to some people who can make you useful in the morning. Tonight after dinner we'll get you a bunk. I won't tell you that they are comfortable, but something tells me they are probably no worse than what you've been sleeping in lately anyway. Don't expect a warm welcome - nobody particularly likes it when the captain and I agree to take these kinds of commissions, because another body means another person in the way, another person that can get sick and use our supplies, and so on. It's a drag. But keep your head up. I might think too about how you're going to introduce yourself, if nothing else. Now let's go."

The two men turned and walked towards the stairway that would take them down into the crew mess. As they opened the door, Vance looked at Garal, shook his head, and said "I appreciate the advice. Call me Kelton."