Kelton. It was going to be hard to get used to a new name and new identity, but the old one hadn't done him much good. He wasn't even sure why he had picked that name. It had just...come to him. In any event, Kelton (as he was now known) stepped in through the door and made his way to a place near the end of the long table. Garal's demeanor changed slightly into more of a stern, business-like persona, and he even managed to seem larger than his already-hulking presence. He pointed Kelton at a man to come find in the morning, and then left the poorly-lit room for the officer's mess. It was the last conversation that the two would have for several days.
Dinner itself was fine; just as Garal had promised, it wasn't the most welcoming environment, but it wasn't downright hostile, either. Even better was the fact that there wasn't a lot of grilling or digging into his past and story; this was clearly the kind of environment where the fewer questions asked, the better. Apart from a few terse exchanges of names, the only meaningful question that Kelton was asked was "Working man, or cargo?" His answer told them all that they needed to know about him, and they went right back to ignoring him and talking amongst themselves.
The meal that first night also served as an example of how his time aboard the ship would be; reasonably uneventful, somewhat cold, never hospitable, but also not dangerous in any way. Kelton saw the captain every now and then, but made sure to steer clear, and the captain never engaged with at all, even to offer an opinion on his deck-cleaning (which was one of the few areas that everyone on board seemed to want to share their thoughts on). Overall, things went well. It was a tightly-run ship, and there was no sign of trouble with the crew; on the other side, the captain and officers were not dictatorial, and no unjust punishment was doled out. Kelton was unaware of how rare this combination was, and how lucky he had been to be taken on by a ship such as this one; his life could have been far more painful - not to mention short - on any number of other vessels. Kelton simply kept his head down and did his work when he had it to do, and stayed out of the way when he had nothing else assigned. It rained a lot, which helped with the dirt and the smell that seemed to permeate the air at all times, but it also gave him plenty of cleaning to do.
Kelton's physical appearance had begun to change too, and when he saw himself in a small mirror that some of the men used for shaving, he actually hardly recognized himself. It had only been a few days at sea, but combined with the stress and physical toll of prison (not to mention the lack of proper nutrition), it seemed that Kelton had aged years. He had always attempted to maintain a pretty clean look, not really liking facial hair, but it had been a long time since he could give himself a shave, and his beard had started to fill out quickly. His hair was a little too long, but what really set him apart was how much weight he had lost. Kelton began to feel like a new man - albeit a broke and aimless one - and besides, the only reminder he had of his life as Vance was the lone outfit that he had boarded the ship wearing. Luckily he had managed to use some of his downtime to mend ripped and worn clothing which some of the crew had discarded and allowed him to keep, so he wasn't constantly in the same outfit day in and day out, although even this served only to exaggerate the change in himself. Nobody was ever going to mistake Kelton for a sailor; still, Garal had been right about the freedom that Kelton had been offered.
On the fifth day of their voyage, they proceeded to make their first stop. Kelton began preparing for whatever would come next as soon as he saw the shore in the distance, but was surprised when one of the crew nudged him as ran by (hastily performing docking preparations) that Garal wanted Kelton to stay below deck. He was curious as to why; probably, Kelton thought, there was some negotiation happening, or exchange of goods, that Garal or the captain didn't want him to witness. Maybe they were even negotiating a price on him? There were plenty of possibilities, although Kelton couldn't do much in any event. He had only the faintest idea of what the crew was really chartered to transport, and besides, it wasn't like he had someone to tell about it even if they were up to no good. However, he did as he was told and stayed inside until it was clear from the sounds above that they were departing again. More than half the day had passed, Kelton was certain.
That evening once they were at mess again, Kelton had to really work to stop himself from going and hunting down Garal to ask him what the plan was for him, and why he had been kept away from the dock when he had fully expected to be rather unceremoniously kicked off at the first opportunity. He managed to catch Garal's eye in passing, and it was enough; Garal acknowledged his unspoken desire to talk and pulled Kelton aside. Anticipating the question that Kelton was about to ask, he simply answered it.
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"This wasn't the right place. It feels like a few days of travel should be enough to give you anonymity, but that's not necessarily true. Markosa's a pretty regular stop for lots of trading vessels, and the people there are extremely well-connected to Juldania. You'd find yourself uncovered in less than a week, for sure." Kelton considered this and asked "Then why did I have to hide?"
"Well..." Garal answered slowly, "I hadn't yet convinced Captain to keep you aboard for another stop or so, and I didn't want to cause a scene. We don't disobey him, and he doesn't like a lot of discussion. If he saw you wandering around, he'd have had you off the boat before I even had a chance to give him my thoughts. I had to let him know what was in it for us."
"Oh? What's that?" Kelton asked the first mate, who seemed extremely uncomfortable by even the hint that he might have spoken out in some way against his employer. "That's easy," Garal quickly replied. "You don't make any trouble, like a lot of our human cargo, and you work hard. Even better, you work for free. There is no rush to get rid of a deal like that. So far nobody has had any complaints about you, so it wasn't that hard of a sell, really. Just making him aware. Anyway...no big deal. We'll be rid of you soon enough. Why don't you take a watch shift? Go ahead and relieve Neils, send him in to eat."
Garal was clearly ending the conversation, or at least changing the subject, and Kelton had to wonder what more there was that he was missing. However, Garal didn't wait long for him to reply, ducking back inside almost immediately. Kelton accepted his fate for the time being, confident that there was something to learn here, something that he could use. He'd have plenty of time to consider what it could be, he mused, on the long evening watch shift.
Days passed, and turned into a second week. Strangely, another stop had been made and Kelton was still aboard. This time, he wasn't instructed to hide, but was told to "just keep working." Even stranger, Garal had clearly been avoiding a discussion with him, and the men had started to react to him a little differently. It seemed that the rank-and-file men were beginning to count Kelton as one of their own. As he reflected on his time aboard the boat, Kelton thought it was definitely strange how rarely he saw the captain; he might not have any nautical experience, but he was certain that the captain of a ship should generally be running it, and yet there was little regular evidence that the captain was even on board. Kelton saw him every now and then, but virtually never heard him speak; and while his gaze was intense and his movement deliberate, the captain seemed to have little interest in the actual operations of the vessel or the activities of the crew.
While he considered this, another frightening thought came to Kelton's mind - had he been press-ganged? He couldn't rule out the possibility that there were at least a few aboard who were not there of their own will, and presumably fear kept everyone in line; suddenly, Kelton was facing the same feelings of hopelessness and frustration that had been his constant companions in prison. One way or another, he decided, he would find a way off at the next stop. What were they going to do about it? Drag him back on? Kill him? He wasn't sure, but he knew he couldn't simply move from one prison to another. Even if there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for his continued presence aboard, Kelton became instantly convinced that it had to end.
Two more days passed, and Kelton's paranoia only grew; he felt more and more certain that Garal hadn't been paid to take him somewhere else, he had been sold as a captive crew member, or something similar. He wasn't sure why they hadn't trained him to do more yet, but perhaps they were just waiting to break his will. Was Garal just waiting for Kelton to lash out, so as to punish him publicly, to humiliate him, to make him realize that he had no choices and no options? Surely they couldn't simply want someone to scrub decks and perform lookout duty? There was another option, he knew; were they holding onto him until they could find a buyer as some sort of slave? It was very possible that the term "human cargo" wasn't simply a pejorative, but an actual description of some of their merchandise. This issue with having no identity and no ties anywhere, Kelton realized, was that nobody would even know - much less care - if he disappeared forever.
Kelton was shaken from his thoughts by the awareness that he saw something on the horizon; or at least, he thought he did. Some sort of speck - and since he was on watch duty, it was his job to announce it. This might be his chance. Kelton wasn't entirely sure that what he saw was worth announcing though, as he couldn't ascertain exactly what it was. He climbed down and asked the nearest sailor, who happened to be Neils, with whom he had often traded off watch shifts. Neils simply laughed good-naturedly in response. "Kelton, you are a truly terrible watchman. Everyone else saw Odellia on the horizon twenty minutes ago. Might as well call it out before you get into trouble, though." Kelton climbed back up to his perch and announced the island on the horizon, to little reaction. Odellia, Kelton thought...he head never heard of it before, but he was confident that it was about to become his new home.