“Everybody has their own story. Everybody.” - Old Folk saying.

“So, Captain da’Hock, I’m not usually one to pry, but what’s your story?” asked Aideen the next day. The ship they were on had departed from the port of Meergant the evening before, sailing the calm waters near the coastline throughout the night like experienced sailors often would. They headed eastwards, the Captain apparently planning to stick to the more familiar coastlines of Alcidea until they reached its southeastern tip before turning south. “You looked and sounded like you had some burden you wish to unravel, something to do with how you turned unliving, perhaps?”

Celia was leaning against the railings of the deck nearby, keeping her ears opened with interest. The two of them had nary encountered another of their kind in their century in Alcidea, other than one orcish shaman who became one after he passed on due to old age. Then again, given how relatively rare people actually turned into unliving combined with how vast the continent was, it was not too strange an occurrence.

Aideen had once told Celia that by the Bone Lord’s best estimates, there might not be more than ten to fifteen incidences of people rising into unlife every year or so, and given how not everyone who became unliving remained that way past their first year – not many of those who rose in areas still badly prejudiced against the unliving made it out, while yet others couldn’t accept their new existence for various reasons – and maybe not more than two or three a year “survived” their first year of unlife.

All too often, people who rose into unlife just used that as a chance to do some final things with their loved ones, maybe one last project that haunted them even to their dying days, for the more intellectual sorts, maybe one last masterpiece for artists, one last regret in general. After their last regret was taken care of, it was common for them to let go of life, satisfied by what they had achieved.

That was not counting those who simply let go of their newfound unlife out of boredom after a while.

Those like Aideen and Celia whose regrets were more along the lines of not having lived enough and thus welcomed their newfound immortality with more open minds once they got used to it were rarer. Similarly, though, all too commonly those who rose into unlife carried over some regrets from when they were alive, in some way and form.

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The Captain of the ship looked to be one of those types.

“Was it that easy to tell?” asked the captain with some surprise on his features. He was rather tanned, so the paleness that death brought made for a rather odd look, but one that could still pass for a normal person’s complexion. “I had thought that I hid it pretty well… oh wait, you’re with the Markgraf, did she tell you?”

“Ginnie actually didn’t say a word, since we weren’t originally even planned to take this boat. Ah, you’re probably more familiar with her as Markgraf Eugenia Stahlfaust,” said Aideen with a smile on her face. The man’s surprise wasn’t too strange, as he was indeed hard to distinguish from the living, unlike her own obviously unnaturally pale complexion. “It’s just that after a few centuries of being one myself, I found it pretty easy to notice others in a similar state, is all.”

“Oh? You… are an unliving too, milady deVreys?” asked the captain with some incredulity. It was probably earned. If the man only rose rather recently, chances were that he had not met with many, if any of their own kind so far. Aideen learned from Ginnie that while Knallzog had a few who went on to enjoy their unlife more, they also tended to be the type that kept to themselves for the most part. Seeing one ply the sea routes like Arquivaldo was a rarity.

“Just Aideen, please,” she replied with a polite wave of her hand. “And yeah, likely one of the first, if our reckoning was correct. I am three hundred years old this year, Captain, though that’s counting the twenty or so before the incident that… well… got me where I am now,” she added with a wry smile. “What about yourself?”

“T’was a rather recent thing, milady, around ten years ago or so,” admitted the captain with a slightly embarrassed look on his face. “It’s… something no captain would have liked to even think of, much less experience, but I not only got to face it head-on, I also had to live with the fact afterwards, as frustrating as it was,” said the captain with a melancholic sigh.

“You lost your ship,” stated Aideen simply. “And part of your heart went down with it.”

It was a rather common thing for ship captains of the age to view their ships as extensions of themselves, or even as a loved one they cared and cherished. As such, tales of captains refusing to leave a doomed ship and insisting on going down with them was also rather commonplace. Just one look at the captain’s rather haunted eyes and Aideen could tell that it was likely the case for this man, except worse. He went down with his beloved ship, and despite his intent to die with it, lived, even if as an unliving.

That was probably the sort of blow to the man’s psyche Aideen had no idea how to even begin to relate to, though she could understand its severity nonetheless. It did mean that she wouldn’t know where to even start unless the captain was willing to share his thoughts with her, though. Fortunately enough, the unliving Captain seemed willing to do just that.

He took a deep, audible breath that he let out in a loud wistful sigh, before he looked her up in the eye, as if to gauge her measure that way. Aideen gave him a firm, but respectful nod in return, an acknowledgement that it was up to the man whether he wished to share his tale with her or not. It was a gesture that satisfied him and made up his mind, it seemed.

“It happened twelve years, three months, and seventeen days ago…” started the captain as he told his story.