No gift received should be received lightly.

If your fields were blessed with rain, you thanked the gods for providing it, and shared your bounty. If your sails were filled with wind, you thanked the gods for the fast travel, and shared the coin made on the journey with your crew. To be given the gift of life was the greatest of them all. So you lived in service of the gods, and acted dutifully to your parents until their last breath.

They were words that Calian's father had told him time and again, a way of life that his father, and all of his father's fathers before him, had been true to. And so, as Calian knelt at the altar of the Sea Mother, he gave his thanks.

"Thank you, Lady Ha'Kor, for the clear skies and calm waters." He whispered, as beside him his father and crew whispered their own prayers. "May you continue to watch over us, so that these calm waters and clear skies remain true."

He remained kneeling until he heard the rustle of clothing beside him, a sign that his father had risen. He too stood, head still bowed until he turned to face away from the statue. He felt a calloused hand pat his shoulder, and finally opened his eyes.

His father's face was stern, hard lines etched into his skin from the decades spent out at sea. His white clothing was loose, as most sailor's were, but the House emblem stitched into his collar noted him as someone of standing. Calian's fingers almost reflexively traveled upwards to the stitching on his own collar, something he'd only been allowed to wear since he’d come of age. 

"The journey will be long." His father warned, his tone deep but with an undercurrent of paternal warmth to it. Around them the other members of the crew stood from their prayers and exited the chapel, smiling and chatting amongst themselves. "We will be sailing to Gania. If you'd like, you can sail with the other crew to Napor."

Calian shook his head resolutely. "I've not yet sailed a three month journey. At least if I sail with you, I'll be more afraid of your criticism than of the time at sea." He reasoned, the barest hint of a smile crossing his features as his father chuckled. Clapping him on the back, he gave him a nod and turned. 

"Best be off then." He said and, after checking that his rapier was affixed to his belt, Calian fell into step behind him as they joined the crew waiting outside. Bright sunlight greeted him as he walked out of the chapel, the muffled noises from the port below now enveloping him fully. Seagulls cawed in the distance, their piercing cries carried to him by the light breeze billowing inwards from the vast expanse of ocean before him. 

The chapel sat on a hill that overlooked the entirety of the port. Ships rocked idly next to the docks they were moored to, the ocean glittering in a way that appealed to Calian more than any gem did. As his father took the front and began walking down the steps towards the port, a few of the younger crew members lagged behind to walk with Calian. 

"So the young lord is finally joining us for the long voyage." Tikan teased, looping an arm around his shoulder. Calian rolled his eyes, shrugging him off.

"It's not like you've been on many long voyages yourself. This is only your second one." He retorted, and Tikan's grin widened, brown eyes sparkling.

"Still one more than you've been on!" He declared smugly, and Calian seemed to think seriously for a moment.

"You're right." He murmured, and Tikan looked at him curiously. "You've had your marriage proposal shot down once more than I have too."

The other crew members burst out laughing as Tikan's face turned bright red, and Calian gave him a coy look from the corner of his eye. 

"You promised you'd never bring that up!" Tikan complained, and another crew member, Manson, looped an arm over his shoulder while patting his chest consolingly.

"Now now Tikan, it's not that bad. It's not like you drank yourself to pissing into the bar's beer keg that same night, saying that they tasted practically the same. What were your exact words again? 'It tastes like piss anyways, so this shouldn't make any difference'…" He trailed off, earning another round of laughs as Tikan pushed him away.

"Oh shove it." He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as they finally landed on the docks. "And don't act like I wasn't right."

"The beer was piss swill." Calian relented, earning a couple of agreeing chuckles. "It's the only reason I'm not upset that we were given a life ban there."

"Okay, that wasn't my fault!" Tikan protested. "If they had just-"

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The group paused mid-step, as up ahead the rest of the crew had come to a stop just in front of the ship. Calian saw two figures approaching his father, wearing bright silver hooded robes. They both bowed, his father's bow lower as a sign of respect, which caused Calian to study them more seriously. He could see the jewelry embroidered into the silver gloves on their hands and in their hoods, and they carried themselves in a way that suggested they weren't mere passerbys. 

They pointed to his father's ship, the Waker's Wail, and began speaking. Calian shared a glance with his friends, and as one they edged closer to hear what they were saying.

"-quest by the Deacon of Lady Nao'Kamor." He managed to catch, his mind whirring at the mention of the Moon Sister's name. He couldn't see their faces, but the voice that had spoken was clearly feminine.

"What were they saying before?" Calian whispered to the taller crewmember in front of him, who jumped slightly before turning his head and looking down at him. The crew member glanced between the two Moon Sister followers and him, before leaning down.

"Apparently they're requesting transport." He whispered back, and Calian pursed his lips before nodding, turning his ear slightly to better listen.

"The Deacon?" He heard his father's gruff voice ask hesitantly. "I assume you have a writ of proof?" There was a small pause, the faintest sound of cloth rustling drifting past the light gale. "I see… but what reason would the Deacon have to commandeer a ship?"

"I'm afraid we can't answer that." Came a third voice, this one deeply masculine. "Please know that we make this request with the utmost respect to your position. If it is out of the way of your planned voyage, we do not mind if you simply take us to a near port that would have ships willing and able to make the journey."

"That is not what was discussed." Said the woman with a hiss, but she was quietly hushed by the man.

There was a long pause, before his father sighed. "Very well. But we only have one spare cabin, so you'll need to share it. Unless one of you wouldn’t mind sleeping with the rest of the crew."

"Thank you. Your generosity towards your sister church is much appreciated." The man said, and Calian saw them climb the gangway up to the ship. One of them was smaller than the other, and the irritation from them was clear even in the way they walked. He couldn't make out any distinguishing features on account of their long, hooded silver robes, but he'd bet coin that the angry one was the woman.

He began walking forward as the rest of the crew muttered between themselves, placing himself firmly beside his father as they both watched the strangers board their ship. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to see his father's expression was drawn into a frown, his brows creased and his finger tapping his leg in the way they did when he was thinking deeply.

"Where do they want to be taken?" He eventually asked, and his father turned to look at him. Finally he sighed, scratching the back of his head. 

"Laote." He answered, and Calian frowned as he drew the chart in his head.

"That'll add nearly two weeks to the voyage." He grumbled, and his father nodded. 

"It will." He agreed, still frowning. "But I couldn't say no. The man is a Chaplain."

Calian paused for a few moments as the words sank in, before his eyes widened in shock. "A Chaplain!?" He whispered, mentally reeling. Chaplains were high standing warriors of their faith, figures that were less seen and more dreaded.

His father glanced back at the rest of the crew, who had given the duo enough space to converse privately. When he was confident that no one else had heard him, he placed a rough hand on Calian's shoulder.

"Yes, and the woman is someone just as important as him, perhaps even more so." He whispered. "It was in the way they stood, how they interacted. But listen to me, son. No one else knows, and they will not know. Do you understand?" 

Calian looked into his father's deep blue eyes, at the steel in them, and nodded hesitantly.

"Y-yes, sir. I understand." He stuttered, and his father continued to stare at him for a few moments longer before clapping his shoulder and turning to the crew, while Calian glanced up towards the ship. The two figures were no longer visible from the lower vantage point of the port, either having moved below deck or to the other side of the ship, and his father called orders.

"Alright men, as I'm sure some of you heard, we have unexpected guests from our sister church sailing with us. These guests are to be left to their own devices, but if they ask for something, do it. If you have a problem with whatever they ask, tell me. Am I clear?"

"Aye captain!" Came their chorused response. He nodded, clapping his hands together.

"Then let's get sailing. I want to be out of this port within the hour!"

"Aye Captain!" The chorus repeated, louder this time as they set off into a buzz of action, clambering up the gangway to perform their duties. Calian snapped out of his daze, about to climb after them before he felt his father's hand grab his arm. He looked up at him inquisitively.

"I want you by my side when on the main deck at all times." He said, not in the tone of a ship captain, but rather the tone of a concerned father. "If you ever find that you're not by me, I want you by your uncle Kalot."

Calian was about to protest, but there was something to the tightness of his father's grip that made the complaint die in his throat. He swallowed, and instead asked "Are you expecting something to go wrong?"

His father paused for a few moments, his gaze trailing upwards to the ship before lowering once more to his eyes. "I don't know." He said honestly. "But the writ given by the Deacon wasn't for transport. It was for protection."

Calian mulled over this information for a brief time, and finally nodded. He felt the grip on his arm loosen, before falling away completely. His father turned and made his way up the gangway, and Calian followed. But there was one question burning in his mind, as the ship rocked languidly in the harbor.

"Protection from what?" He asked hesitantly, and his father paused, looking back at him briefly before he continued to climb. 

"I don't know."