Calian grimaced as he held the sick bucket, his friend Argon upheaving what little they had managed to feed him into it. There was sweat on his forehead, causing his brown hair to stick to it as he looked up at Calian.

"Sorry." He rasped, but Calian shook his head.

"You need not be sorry." He consoled, still holding the bucket as Argon retched into it. "It isn't your fault."

"We checked the rations." Tikan muttered beside him, as another crewmate dry heaved into the bucket he was holding. "We checked and double checked them before we left port, because that's what Kalot always says to do. There wasn't anything wrong with them before we left."

Calian pursed his lips as Argon dry heaved, fighting back the urge to snap at his friend. He had seen the spoiled food with his own eyes, but what good would arguing with Tikan do at this point? He took a breath, calming himself. "Well someone must have missed something." He tried to reason, but Tikan stubbornly shook his head, his brow furrowing.

"We didn't miss anything." He insisted. "Kalot checked them himself, afterward."

At this Calian had nothing to say. All around him, the sound of ill crewmates was prominent. He and Tikan had been assisting Gallow for the better part of the day, first cleaning the quarters and then feeding the ill, and now they were looking after them.

"He's right." Argon whispered, his voice weak but firm. "Kalot checked after we did. It was only passing, but Kalot would have found something if it was wrong."

Calian nodded, a sense of dread building inside of him. He knew this crew. They wouldn't have made a mistake this costly, and even a passing look from his uncle Kalot would be considered harsh scrutiny by other crews.

Argon rolled back onto his hammock, putting a hand to his forehead. "Never knew the ship was this rocky before." He chuckled, and Calian laughed with him.

"It's never noticeable until you're sick." He assured, and Argon nodded.

"We checked the rations." Tikan repeated under his breath, setting down the bucket in his hands and warding himself with the Sea Mother's symbol. "It must be a blight inflicted by the Storm Emperor."

He didn't want to agree with him, but Calian thought it might be right. The Storm Emperor was notoriously spiteful, often sabotaging an otherwise promising voyage just to condemn those who worshiped his mother. A petty revenge, for Lady Ha'Kor's part in cursing him as a Fell God.

He too set down his bucket, closing his eyes and bringing up the emerald necklace of the Sea Mother's sigil around his neck to his lips, whispering a prayer to the goddess.

"It is good to see those of the faith praying so fervently.." A voice said from behind him, causing Calian to open his eyes and turn to look at the one who spoke. He found Gallow standing beside him, a tray of steaming wooden bowls in one hand while he used the other hand to pass one of the bowls to Argon. The latter took it gratefully, and Calian caught a whiff of ginger and something sweet.

Seeming to notice Calian's interest, Gallow smiled. "Tea brewed with ginger and honey. One heals the body, the other soothes the throat. And a little something extra my friend added to help the spirit." He explained, turning to Tikan and handing him a bowl. Tikan seemed hesitant, glancing towards Calian before accepting it and in turn giving it to the crew member he was looking after.

Calian looked back to Argon, who took a small sip from the bowl, and then a much larger one. Immediately his face relaxed, his labored breathing easing. Calian looked around and saw many of the crew members sipping on the same tea, and the improvement was almost immediate. He turned to Gallow in admiration.

"I had no idea tea could have such an effect." He praised honestly, and Gallow smiled as he continued to hand out bowls.

"Only if you know the right ingredients to brew with." He said, passing out the last of the bowls and turning to Calian and Tikan with a smile. "Having aid to keep the space as clean as possible is also wonderful help. Thank you."

Tikan nodded, taking a deep breath. "I'm only thankful you're here, brother Gallow." He said, and Gallow's smile waned the slightest amount. Not enough to give Tikan pause, but enough for Calian to notice, until it returned in all of its friendliness.

"Nonsense. It's the least I can do to help, since you've given us passage." He assured them, looking around. Calian looked with him, and found most of the crew members' complexions had improved. Almost miraculously, in all honesty, but most still looked haggard.

"I think rest will do them good." Gallow said, and Calian nodded agreeingly.

"Aye, Brother Gallow. We appreciate all you've looked after them." He said. None had worked harder to ensure the crew was looked after than Gallow. From cooling pails of water and cloth to scrubbing the deck clean, even Calian had fallen behind him in care for the crew.

Gallow nodded, again that same strange flicker in his smile. Tikan cleared his throat, standing to stretch his back as a small series of cracks rang out. Calian did the same, a sigh he hadn't realized he needed leaving him as his own back popped with the motion. Gallow looked at the two of them, chuckling slightly.

When Calian tilted his head curiously, Gallow waved a hand. "Apologies. It's just that you two remind me of Acolytes of our church. They all have that same expression, after their first shift in our hospices."

Tikan and Calian looked at each other, before shrugging. Tikan turned to Gallow, glancing around him. "Do you need us for anything else, Brother Gallow?" He asked, and the Chaplain shook his head.

"Not at all." He replied. "I can look for those in the night crew to help until morning. Though I may require your aid at that time."

Tikan and Calian nodded, exhausted, and turned to head down to the storage area. Gallow had suggested that the healthy members of the crew sleep there to avoid any further sickness, and his father had given full permission to do so.

Just as Calian was about to descend below for some much needed rest, he heard Gallow clearing his throat behind him. He turned back and saw the Chaplain smiling, his arms loose inside of his robe.

"Apologies, Calian. I know you must be exhausted, but I was wondering if we could talk for a bit?" He asked, and Calian paused.

"What about?" He asked hesitantly, his father's warning surfacing in his mind. These guests had veiled an order of protection under a request for transportation. It was certainly cause for suspicion, and something that Calian couldn't ignore.

"Nothing of import, so if you refuse I would understand." Gallow answered, his smile softening. "But I'm curious to know more about you. It is not often that someone your age is able to attain your skill in swordsmanship."

Calian pursed his lips, Gallow's words touching a still-raw nerve. He'd come to accept his loss, and to respect Gallow in observing his care for the crew, but the result of the duel still stung his pride. But he had to admit he was curious about what the man had to say, and ask him. He had a few questions of his own, and what's more, he was ever curious about their other elusive guest.

"The woman I travel with would also like to speak with you." Gallow added, as if reading his mind, and Calian nodded grudgingly.

"I have a few things I would like to know about you as well." Calian admitted, and Gallow's smile widened.

"Wonderful! We can speak in the cabin your father lent us." He replied happily, already turning to walk towards the only cabin in the sleeping quarters. Calian hesitated for a few moments, but followed after him.

Gallow opened the door to the small area, Calian standing behind him as a voice greeted the former.

"Gallow! I've confirmed, it was Lord Zagava who-" He heard a melodious voice cut off mid sentence, the other guest aboard their ship freezing in place as she noticed Calian.

Gallow walked into the room, and Calian followed awkwardly, though his mind spun rapidly at the mention of the War Keeper's name. He looked around, trying to pass off his immediately piqued interest as observation of the room. There was one bed, which the robed woman was sitting on - strange that she wore her hood up even when she believed herself to be alone, Calian thought - and a bedroll on the floor. A small table sat camped in the corner, a wardrobe beside it. There was a bowl on the table filled with water, a symbol of the Moon Sister drifting inside of it and spinning slightly.

"What is he doing here?" The woman hissed, and Calian was taken aback by the ice in her tone. He had to immediately bite back the retort that this was his father's ship, and they were given free passage. Instead, he stood off to the side, resorting to glaring at her to show his displeasure at her tone.

"I invited him for a chat." Gallow answered cheerfully, closing the door behind them and walking to the table to pull out a chair, patting it as he turned to Calian. "I know it's strange to offer you a seat on your family's ship, but please, do sit."

Calian did so, and he noticed the woman's head turned to him and watched him the entire time he walked from the doorway to the chair. He couldn't make out her face or figure from beneath her robes, but she was… short. He had only ever seen her from a distance, but now that he was closer he realized just how small she was. She would only rise to his chest if he stood, but now that he was sitting he could barely see her features underneath the robe. A small chin, but sharp cheekbones with the barest hint of baby fat to them. And for just a moment, he could have sworn he saw two glowing silver eyes. But she immediately turned her face from him to Gallow, and he lost sight of her features.

"Why?" She demanded. Immediately Calian was reminded of the insufferable, entitled daughters of prominent figures his father had encouraged him to meet in his younger years. It was such a jarring departure from Gallow's own warm welcoming tone that he wondered how they could possibly know each other.

"Well I thought we should get to know him better, my Lady." Gallow said, taking a seat next to Calian, who immediately noted the term. His father had told him that the woman might be in a more important position than the Chaplain, and it appeared he was right. Gallow gestured to Calian. "He is the heir apparent of our host."

The woman seemed stunned, unable to reply, until she stormed forward and grabbed the bowl from the table they were sitting at. Calian bowed his head, whatever personal opinion he may have made of her buried beneath the polite greeting that was deserved of whatever position she held. The woman hesitated, then bowed her head back and turned to Gallow.

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"You should not have done this." She grumbled, and Gallow only shrugged with a small smile. The woman stared at him for a few moments before marching to the bed, sitting down and setting the bowl in her lap, staring down into it intently.

Calian looked at the woman for a few moments, dumbfounded. He wanted to ask just what it was that she was doing, but knew it might be rude. Especially to a practitioner of a sister faith, as Gallow seemed to accept her actions as normal. He hadn't learned the customs of their sister church, and didn't want to seem ignorant. So instead he cleared his throat, looking at Gallow.

"Don't pay her words any mind." Gallow whispered, glancing back before returning his gaze to Calian. "She's… shy."

"I can hear you." The woman snapped, not looking up from her bowl. "And I am not shy. I am displeased."

Calian shifted awkwardly, scratching the few wisps of hair growing on his cheek as a tense silence filled the cabin. "So, Brother Gallow." He said in an attempt to clear the air. "What is it you wished to talk about?"

Gallow seemed to welcome the break in silence, as his smile returned and he adjusted himself in his seat. He put his elbows on the table, folding his hands together as he leaned forward. "As I said before, I'm curious to know more about you. Specifically, your skill in swordsmanship."

Calian nodded easily. When he'd gone to the Council of Blades in Valora for his mastery test, they too had many questions for him. "Well, I've held an interest in swordsmanship for as long as I can remember." He said, and Gallow nodded.

"You mentioned, I believe, that you'd been practicing since you were five years old." He said, earning another nod from Calian. "You said your masters were Masters Trygia Urthud and Namore Vital."

"Right." Calian confirmed.

Gallow hummed, curiosity flickering in his gaze. "That surprises me. Those names are famous in certain circles, and more infamous in others. It is well known among these circles that they are… reluctant, to take disciples."

Calian tilted his head slightly. "I'd heard that was the case." He admitted. From the stories they'd told him during his apprenticeship, they'd both had poor experiences with disciples in the past. "But they were kind enough to teach me what they knew. My father's coin helped in that kindness, I'm sure." His tone was light, humble in the knowledge that he was more privileged than most, and Gallow chuckled.

"Right, yes, your father. I've heard in passing that he is a Baron?"

"A trade Baron, yes." Calian corrected, and Garrow scratched his cheek.

"Apologies. I'm not the most studied in aristocratic culture." He said. "Is there a difference?"

Calian nodded. "There is." He said, his hand resting on the pommel of his sabre. "Traditionally, Barons are given land to govern. Sometimes even a small city. Trade Barons, though, are given only enough land for an estate. Instead, they are charged with keeping a number of trade routes open to other cities and kingdoms, both for their own goods and for the kingdom's."

Gallow nodded along with Calian's words, humming in interest. His eyes lingered on where the latter's hand rested, on the pommel of his rapier. New interest took him, and he nodded towards it. "That is a beautiful weapon. Would you mind terribly if I looked at it?" He asked, and Calian shook his head, unbuckling his belt from around his waist and passing it over. Gallow took it, observing it in detail as Calian did the same.

It was certainly eye-catching, and Calian could understand why it had arrested Gallow's attention. The scabbard was made of ebony wood, with silver engravings depicting the different cycles of the moon lining its side. It had a gold finish at each end, which rang lowly as Gallow pulled the blade from its hold. The handguard gleamed in the low light offered by a flickering oil lamp, bright silver and designed with the symbol of Lady Nao'Kamor, the Moon Sister, as its base. The blade itself was pristine, and Gallow's eyes widened as he inspected it.

"This is Moon Steel." He said in surprise, and Calian nodded. He should have known that a Chaplain of the Moon Sister would recognize the metal. Gallow slid the blade back into the scabbard's hold, and passed it back over to Calian. As he refastened the buckle around his waist, Gallow smiled. "Truly, it is a magnificent weapon. A gift from your father, or your masters?" He asked, and Calian rested his hand on the hilt again.

"From my mother, actually." He said, and Gallow blinked.

"Your mother? I'm not sure I've seen her aboard the ship. Is she maintaining your family estate?"

Calian hesitated for a few moments, but shook his head. "She's… passed." He said, and Gallow's expression immediately sombered.

"I see. I'm sorry for your loss." He said quietly, and Calian nodded his appreciation. "How long ago, if I may ask?"

Calian rubbed the hilt of his sword, reminiscing slightly. He thought of her laugh, of the way her golden eyes seem to glow in the light of the sun. He thought of the way she smiled. It was a harder effort now, and it saddened Calian to know that his memory of her face was fading with every passing day.

"It's been about eight years." He finally answered, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the woman stiffen slightly. He paused momentarily, looking at her, though the woman relaxed and continued to stare down into the bowl.

"Eight years." Gallow murmured, bringing Calian's attention back to him. "To lose your mother at such a young age… I cannot comprehend that kind of loss."

Calian shook his head, a smile gracing his features. "It's fine. I still have fond memories of our time together that I can hold onto." He said sincerely, and Gallow nodded.

"A most wise answer." He complimented, his eyes once again gazing towards the sabre strapped at Calian's hip. "I see the symbols of our Lady in your sword's design. Was your mother a member of our church?"

Calian's thumb brushed along the hilt, and he shook his head. "No, actually. She was a follower of the Sun Father. She gifted a sabre with his symbol to my father, despite his belief in the Sea Mother. A kind of way of connecting us to her faith. Father and child, just like the Sun Father and the Moon Sister." He said, amusement in his tone, though due to his slight laugh he missed the way Gallow's expression changed slightly.

"A follower of Lord Elikoth?" He asked, the surprise in his tone veiling an undercurrent of something… more perturbed. Calian looked at him questioningly, and Gallow swallowed. "If you don't mind my asking, what was your mother's name?"

Calian paused, sensing the unease in the Chaplain's voice. "Yelena Vough, though she later took my father's name." He eventually answered. "Why do you ask?"

There was only a flicker of recognition, a brief lull in the conversation, but Calian had grown adept in picking apart an exchange for its finer details. Years of dealing with other nobles had given him this valuable skill, and his eyes narrowed the slightest amount as he subtly glanced from Gallow to the woman sitting on the bed, who for the first time had looked up at him. It was fast, the moment slipping away in its brevity, but it was enough for him to catch the falter in Gallow's expression before he plastered on his usual smile.

A smile that now seemed more fake than welcoming.

"No particular reason. She must have been a wonderful mother, for you to remember her so fondly." Gallow lied easily, though the fact that the woman was still staring at him from beneath her robes gave his facade away. That same prickling unease took hold of him at her gaze, a primal sense of warning causing his hairs to stand on end once again.

"Did you know my mother?" He asked, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sabre. She had been very secretive of her past. But the occasional haunted look that came over her expression, the same one he'd observed from whipped prisoners and escaped slaves, told him all he needed to know about it.

Gallow noticed the change in Calian's tone, and he saw the Chaplain's hand almost instinctively move inwards to his robe. He had no doubt there was a weapon concealed there.

"No." Gallow lied again, and Calian decided he'd had quite enough of this conversation. He rose to his feet, the Chaplain's gaze faltering as he looked up at him. The woman's eyes never left him, and even as he turned around and began walking to the door he could feel it trained directly on the small of his back.

He was just about to reach for the door when she spoke. "Your mother was from Gallora, correct?" She asked, and he flinched, his hand hovering in the air as he slowly turned around. He saw her still sitting there, the bowl of water in her lap and the symbol of the Moon Sister spinning rapidly inside of it. Strangely. Unnaturally.

He tore his gaze away from the bowl, looking instead at her. Her hood was still up, but he knew she was watching him intently. He swallowed, and he somehow knew that she would sense if he lied, just as he had sensed Gallow's lies.

"Yes." He said honestly, his hand lowering to rest on his sabre once more.

There was another lull to the conversation, and just as Calian was about to open his mouth she spoke again. "Have you been having dreams, Calian? Dreams that are troubling, dreams that impart you with a sense of dread?" She asked, and Gallow's eyes widened as his head snapped back to look at her, before turning to him. Calian himself was taken aback by the sudden change in conversation, pulled into an honest answer by his surprise.

"Yes." He said again, frowning. "How did you-"

Her head tilted upwards, and though he couldn't make out her features through the flickering lamp light in the cabin, he could have sworn her eyes were glowing silver. She raised the bowl, the symbol inside of it spinning faster and faster as the shadows offered by the lamplight darkened and grew longer. Ominously longer, but Calian paid no attention to it, his focus arrested by the spinning symbol.

He tried to pull his eyes away, but he could not, as her voice drifted throughout the cabin like mist. It enveloped him completely, entering both mind and ear at once.

"Sleep now, Calian. And find what your dreams may hold for you." She murmured, her voice splintering into dozens of soothing whispers. Unbidden, his eyes began to close, and the more he tried to keep them open the heavier they grew. Until all he saw was darkness… and small flashes of lightning, hidden within billowing storm clouds.

Gallow's brow furrowed, but he had no time to say anything as Calian began to fall limp. He rushed forward, moving with unnatural speed to catch the young boy before he hit the ground. His breathing was slow, deep, the kind given only by those who were ensnared within dreams.

The Chaplain turned to glare at his ward, as he rose to his feet with Calian held firmly in his arms. "Was that necessary?" He snapped, then paused as the labored breathing of the woman on the bed became noticeable. She flipped back her hood, long silver hair billowing out behind her as she did so, and wiped a sheen of sweat from her brow.

"The child of union between sea and sun will lead this era into a new age." She murmured, her voice breathless and haggard. She glanced at Gallow, but her eyes were drawn to the handsome boy held in his arms. She rose from her seat, setting the bowl down beside her with the motion. "He was resistant, Gallow. He has not even a foot in the door of Ascendancy, yet it drained me to charm him."

Gallow looked down at the boy, his face at peace. "The children of an Oracle are loved by the gods." He recalled, turning to the woman. "Will he remember this?"

The woman shook her head, walking forward. She reached out her hand, hesitant, before brushing aside the long black bangs that clung to his forehead. She could still remember the feeling his gaze gave her. His golden eyes that demanded attention, the kindness in them being quickly replaced by cold calculation. She hoped she would never again be on the receiving end of such a gaze from him.

"He will remember having a pleasant chat with us." She answered eventually. "And then he will remember going to bed."

Gallow was about to speak, but the woman raised a finger to stop him. Calian was mumbling something under his breath, and she turned an ear to listen.

"No… don't… storm…" He whispered, his expression growing troubled. "Father… please…"

The woman raised her head as his mumbling became incoherent, pursing her lips. She looked up at Gallow, who had the same expression she did. Worry.

"He dreams of a storm." He said quietly, and the woman nodded. "He should be dreaming of the sea."

The woman let out a sigh, unsure of what to make of his mumbling. When a Herald was to be chosen, they typically dreamed of the god that would reach out their offering of divine grace. It had been foretold that Lady Nao'Kamor's Herald would soon be born, and from her own dreams she had been certain it would be him.

No. It was him. She could not be mistaken.

"Take him to his quarters below." She ordered, once again adopting the facade she had grown used to using, the mask that she had worn since she had turned eight years old. "He will wake later, and find us."

Gallow nodded, walking over to the door without so much as frowning at the weight in his arms. When he closed it behind him, she was again alone in the silence his absence left.