Calian sat at the edge of the ship, legs dangling through the wooden railing as he watched the endless expanse of blue water drift past him. He'd found early on that was one of the distinct features of sailing this far out at sea. Without landmarks to note your passage, the ocean seemed nearly eternal. Like you could sail for decades, on and on, and never find land. Just you and the ocean, for all of eternity.

He thought it was comforting, in a way.

He didn't hear his father sit down next to him, so much as he felt his presence. His father had an aura around him, strong and dependable. He knew it was childish, but he'd had the thought that his father would always be a figure larger than life. That no matter how much time passed, he would always remain as steadfast and confident as he always remembered. Eternal, so like the sea that Calian had come to love.

His father didn't say anything for a time. Only joined him in his silent reverie, a comforting presence that offered nothing but the fact that it would remain there, should he want it to. So they stayed like that, Lord and Heir, father and son, lulled into peace by the sea. Until finally, his father's deep voice rumbled over the sound of water breaking past the ship.

"You know, you were born on this ship." He said quietly, and Calian nodded. He had heard the story almost a hundred times. But his father didn't seem to notice, as he continued to speak. "I wasn't yet made a Baron, but I'd finished my service in the navy. I had enough savings to buy my own ship, and by that point sailing was all I knew." He patted the railing almost affectionately. "I couldn't decide on the name, but it was bad luck to sail on a ship without one. So I called her the 'Racing Rainbow'."

Calian had heard it all before, but he still snorted a laugh. "Terrible. Don't know how you hired a crew willing to sail on a ship with that name." He said, and his father chuckled along with him.

"Me neither." He agreed, reminiscing on the moment. "But as you know, your uncle Kalot had left the navy with me. When I told him what I called her, he said 'that is the single shittiest name I have ever heard for a ship. Only a fool would sail with you while you have it.'" His father turned to him with a grin. "And when I went to the docks the next morning, he was waving at me from its helm."

Calian laughed, shaking his head. "Why is that the most uncle Kalot thing to do in the world?" He asked, and his father's grin widened as he turned to look back out at sea. But soon, his grin faded, the humor in his smile replaced by something far more gentle. The way it only did when he thought about Calian's mother.

"It was our very first voyage with her. I was sailing with spice I'd traded, taking it up to Yulek. Didn't know then that you don't trade spice in Yulek, it's a poor man's game. But that's when I found your mother, floating in a little dingy." He continued. His father's voice softened, and by now it seemed that he was talking more to himself than his son. But Calian continued to listen anyway, his own smile dropping as his heart squeezed ever so slightly.

"The poor girl was sun sick. Clearly hadn't had food or water in days. But gods above she was still beautiful. Half of the men were convinced she was a goddess, as we pulled her aboard." As his father spoke, he pulled out a locket. The silver chain links slipped past his fingers, glinting in the afternoon sunlight as he held it in his fingers, stroking it gently. "When we nursed her back to health, she made only one request. To never be taken to Gallora."

Calian nodded. That was the one thing she'd made him promise to her, on her deathbed. That he would never sail to Gallora. "A while later, I was made the luckiest man alive when she accepted my proposal to her. And a while after that, she was pregnant with you. A gift from the Sea Mother, and one that I will always be grateful for." His father turned to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked deep into his eyes, with such pride and confidence in him that Calian nearly turned away out of shame.

"The moment you cried out when you were born, I knew you would grow strong." His father said gently. "Stronger than I would ever be."

Calian twisted his lips, turning away as a hot lump formed in his throat. He looked down into the ocean below. "I know it was just one loss. I've faced them plenty before, time and again." He whispered. "And I know that it's my own pride and arrogance making me feel this way. But he wasn't even a Master. His skill was lower than mine, I could feel it, and I still…" He trailed off, biting his lip.

His father squeezed his shoulder, then patted it. "There will always be someone stronger in the world, Cal." He said. "Always a better fighter, a better thinker. I was reminded of that when my own son bested me with a sword at age fourteen."

Cal laughed breathily, sniffling, as his father continued. "Just because you're better in skill does not mean you'll win the fight. You will lose to someone you feel you shouldn't have lost against. And that's alright. As long as you learn and grow, a loss isn't a terrible thing. But know that I, and your mother, will always be proud of you."

Cal nodded, taking a deep breath. He'd been taught that lesson many times before by his teachers. But hearing it from his father made the frustration in his chest unravel just the tiniest amount. His father chuckled, and Cal turned to look at him curiously.

"Sometimes I forget how young you are." His father said, a small smile on his lips, and Calian immediately frowned.

"I'm an adult." He protested, and his father nodded.

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"Aye, you are. But you're also young." He said, and Calian grumbled under his breath. But his father's grip on his shoulder tightened, almost painfully so, and Calian looked at his father questioningly.

His father's face was serious, a departure from his expression only moments ago. Dark blue eyes bore into his own intensely. "You're young, Cal." He repeated himself. "And that's not a bad thing. But the winds of change are coming, I can feel it. And I fear I may not have prepared you enough."

"Dad?" He asked, wincing underneath the pressure of his grasp. His father released him, sighing.

"I'm sorry son." He murmured, his gaze turning back to the water for a few moments. "I just haven't been able to shake this feeling of foreboding since we sailed from port." He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head awkwardly before standing and offering Calian a hand, who took it to stand with him.

Cal looked at his father with concern, his words resonating with something inside of him. He hesitated for a few moments, but decided to share his thoughts.

"Dad… I've been having these drea-"

"Ashton." He was interrupted by the voice of his uncle Kalot calling out to his father, and they both turned to see him approaching, Gallow walking with him. His voice and expression were grave, and Gallow's own expression matched it. Calian looked away awkwardly for a few moments. It had been a few days since they'd had their spar, and the few times that the Chaplain had left his cabin Calian had avoided him entirely.

"What is it, brother?" His father asked, his eyes lingering on Calian for a few moments before fully focusing on Kalot. The latter gestured for Gallow to step forward, who did so while holding up a piece of dried fish, part of the rations they'd brought to last them most of the journey.

Calian nearly gagged as he looked at it. The meat held a sickly green hue to it, and he could see a bulging, writhing mass of maggots wriggling out of the flesh to plop down onto the deck. He and his father both reflexively made a warding gesture and gave a silent prayer to the Sea Mother.

"Members of the crew reported feeling sick earlier today." Kalot said, as Gallow tossed the festering meat overboard. Calian watched it sail over the railing and into the water, maggots spilling out of it the entire way down. "When we went to check for possible reasons…" He trailed off, letting Gallow step in.

"I'm a healer, in addition to my other duties." Gallow explained. "I wanted to check your rations, to eliminate the possibility."

Ashton's face had gone just as grave as the other two, but he was shaking his head. "That shouldn't be possible. We made sure to check for any problems with the rations before we set sail." He muttered, and Gallow shrugged.

"And yet, that's the situation."

Ashton's jaw clenched, and he turned from Gallow to look at Kalot. "How much?" He asked, and Kalot sighed.

"Nearly two thirds of the rations, is the conservative estimate. We're still checking." He answered, and Calian's father cursed under his breath. "We're going to have to stop at the nearest port, or turn around. That's all we have enough for."

After a few tense moments, Calian's father pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded. "The nearest port would be…" He trailed off, frowning as he charted their path mentally.

"Either Karia or New Haven." Calian supplied after a few moments, having already done the math. "Both of which are about a week away, in favorable weather. I'd have to check the stars to get a more accurate estimate though."

Gallow looked at him in surprise for a few moments, and Calian glared back at him, defiance clear in his gaze. Although he knew rationally that he shouldn't hold a grudge, his ego was still hurt. Gallow shrugged it off and turned back to his father, who was pursing his lips.

"Do we have suppliers in Karia?" Kalot asked, to which Ashton nodded.

"We do. Though ready with enough supplies to have us seaworthy again in short notice? Probably not."

"It is my professional opinion that your men will need proper rest off of the ship." Gallow said. "A few of them are suffering from food poisoning, and being out at sea won't help their situation."

Ashton sighed, glancing at Kalot. "Is the water still potable?" He asked, and Kalot nodded. "Okay. Limit the rations of the healthier members of the crew, and use the surplus to make soup for the sick." He turned to look at Gallow. "Does that agree with your professional opinion?"

Gallow gave a nod as members of the crew started to gather around them, having overheard part of the situation. "Cap'n," one of them asked hesitantly, "rations have gone bad?"

"Yes, though thankfully it appears we'll have enough to make it to the next port. We'll be sailing to New Haven." Ashton answered, and a relieved sigh seemed to pass through the crew. Being out at sea without enough food or water was a disaster, and one that most long time sailors had experienced at least once due to one circumstance or the other. Ashton moved to the helm, as Kalot turned around and began to give orders.

"ALRIGHT MEN, IN LIGHT OF OUR NEW SITUATION THE CAPTAIN HAS ORDERED A CHANGE IN COURSE TO NEW HAVEN!" He bellowed, and the crew immediately set to work, easing the sails so as not to lose speed during the change of course. "BARNABY! GET UP TO THE CROW'S NEST AND KEEP A FEEL FOR THE WIND! I WANT NO TIGHTER THAN A FOURTY FIVE ANGLE WITH IT!"

"AYE SIR!" Came their chorused response, and Calian began to work with the other members of the crew. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gallow say something to his uncle, who shared a glance with his father. The latter gave a nod, and Kalot spoke once more.

"CALIAN!" He called, and Calian immediately stood at attention. "YOU WILL BE ASSISTING OUR GUEST HEALER WITH TENDING TO THE SICK BELOW DECK!"

Calian groaned, a complaint already springing out before a withering glare from his uncle stopped it short. "AM I UNDERSTOOD!?"

Calian cursed under his breath, but nodded. "Aye sir." He mumbled, as Gallow approached him with an apologetic smile.

"Apologies. I said I'd need help tending to the ill." He said, and Calian sighed, feeling guilty. He'd known quite a few of the crew for his entire life, and more than that for years. He shouldn't complain just because he carried a bruised ego.

"No, no. You don't have to apologize. What can I do to help?" He asked quietly, and Gallow gave him a grateful nod.

"Just follow me. I'll tell you what to do."