Wind battered Tobias with salty spray as he stood at the bow, eyes set on the horizon. "Stalt," came the groggy voice of his boatswain, "we've put the Alerian coastline to our backs, and a night's sail has taken it from sight." The mercenary merely nodded his approval, and the man added, "a quarter turn will carry us back to Raiaera in two days time, by our map."

"You have my blessing," Tobias laughed, one hand gripped tightly around the rigging. "I swear, this honorary captain shit makes you think I'm some kind of Sailor."

"You're the only one of us who's served active in a military," came the uncertain reply. Tobias gave a helpless shrug in response.

"Not a sailor?" came a squeaky voice from behind them, and Tobias rounded on Rayleigh with an accusing finger.

"Miss Aston! Good morning!" he half shouted, "boatswain! If you would, kindly teach the lady how to secure the rigging? I hear storms like the sneak up on sailors at sea. It'd be nice if she had the skill." Stalt shot the girl a wry smirk, though her face twisted into a mask of terror.

"Rigging?" she mouthed weakly.

"You wanted to learn to survive," he whispered, a step closer to her now. "While you're on this ship, you're one of her crew. Everything they do, you do. It all starts to bleed together after a while. Two days from now, your arms are going to be ten times stronger."

"Thanks," she muttered glumly.

"Now, then!" Tobias snapped his fingers and headed for the helm. "I have a few duties to attend myself..."