White on red on blue, the rugged, ice-covered cliffs along the Ostarian Coast resisted, with great bravery, the attempts at conquest from the Freezing Sea. Though in truth, the so-called 'sea' would just be part of one giant ocean, according to what Laqhis had taught them. Still, the war between waves and land was a spectacle Atau never grew tired of.

“Aah crap. You feelin' homesick again, footlicker?”

On the other hand, many things could could change in an instance, as he found out on this trip. Atau turned around and looked at old John, the deckhand who had spent so much time on this ship. In a way, the old man had been his mentor, had taken him in and shown him the ropes when he had started out as a sailor. Back then, John had only ever laughed and smiled his crooked smile as he taught Atau about all the quirks of the ship... and of course about all the superstitions any good sailor would need to know.

“Just looking out onto the waves, old John. You don't think it's impressive?”

Rather than answer, rather than show his smile and tell another tale of kobolds and gremlins hiding in the waters, the oldie simply spat past Atau, out into the sea, before he turned to return to his mates. Yes, some things truly changed. Once they were changed, they could never be brought back, lost irredeemably. With a frown, Atau looked at the men who had been his comrades before, at the men he had shared hardship with on four different trips before this one.

Since he had been picked as first mate to the captain, things had become dramatically different. No longer was he welcome in their quarters, no longer was he forced to drink along or be part of their songs. However, it wasn't because the men hated the authority of the ship's hierarchy. Rules were rules, and nowhere would rules be more important than at high seas. Even though he would only be first mate for this one trip, to prepare Atau for his own ship which would be waiting back home in Etra, the rest of the crew felt that he had used his connections to get ahead of them, and that he didn't deserve his position. If he wanted to hold the crew together and finish his final journey with them in a peaceful manner, Atau needed to do something. Soon, they would reach the Cape of Tears, the most difficult part of their journey around the south coast of Arcavia.

Thus, he decided to move towards the men, try one last time to turn back the clock and sit with them like before. Pretending confidence, Atau walked over to the circle of sailors as they drank their weak beer. Over the stiff breeze being caught in the sails and the creaking ropes he could hear their talks.

“Guess that's the great lords for ya. All they'll do is use the good Lord Arcavus to keep us down.” Polder, brave, hardworking and stupid, said before he took a swig of beer.

“Not all of 'em are bad. The bornish have been talking conversion too, ya know?” Rallo, the new cabin boy, replied. Polder waved his free hand in dismissal.

“A Lord being a reverer? Won't he get done in by his own?”

“Nah, they just understand the truth: That the great Arcavus is there for all us folk. Ya didn't hear what the priests are saying? In the end, we're all children of Arcavus. No word in the Halicion that we need to pay for new temples just so those guys take us along to their afterlife.” This time, it was old John's turn to answer.

“Ah, so what? They're the ones with the most blades. Nothing to be done.”

“So what if they're in charge? We're the ones doin' all the work, so why do they get to live in the castle? And even with all that, they still want to get at our coin so they can build a fancy crypt?”

“You're not wrong.” Atau had been closing in slowly, and finally old John had provided him with the ideal point to jump in on the conversation.

“Wadda ya want, footlicker? After takin our work you wanna take our fun too? We're not allowed to speak our minds off duty now?”

As an experienced sailor, Polder would know as well as anyone here that there was no 'off-duty' atop a sailing ship. Still, Atau ignored the cheap provocation. He wouldn't let the conversation get derailed here.

“I'm just saying, the ones in charge have no god-given right to rule over anyone. That's all just bullshit made up to make the common folk easier to control.”

“The crap does that mean? You tryin' to say that the Lords are all fake? Weren't you and your boss their slavers?”

“Just because we sell them wine? Why would that mean we're working for the Lords, Polder? In the end it's just us making exorbitant amounts of coin from the lords of Arcavia. All that money flows into Etra, to pay carpenters, brick layers, masons, and whatever else we need to build all those offices, warehouses and ships. We're redistributing the wealth from the ones at the top back to the ordinary people.”

Wide-eyed, Polder stared at Atau. “So, ya don't work with the priests in Arcava or their First Son?”

All men in the circle spat on the ground in unison upon hearing of the filthy title. With a smile, Atau thought back to what his cousin had to say on the matter. “You know how the Arcavian religion came to be? Back some eight hundred years ago, the great Arcavus had just ascended to godhood and left his sons with his territory, all that land splintered between his children. So the sons, in order to hold power, told everyone that daddy had gone to heaven to kill the old gods and that now, he was in charge.”

“He wasn't?” Rallo asked with wide eyes. Polder slapped his arm to shut the kid up before he asked his own question with a frown.

“Now how would you know?”

“I'm friends with the seer, you know?” Atau replied. “I'm not saying Arcavus hasn't ascended.” Though he didn't believe a word of the Arcavian drivel, Atau found it better to be diplomatic here. “But his sons also claim this: Only descendants of the great Arcavus could ever rule. No one else should even try. By now, how many gods do we have, huh? All those little lords, becoming saints and gods for having their soldiers kill the soldiers of some other little lord. What did those great rulers even do in those fights?”

As Atau looked around the circle, he found the men who would not even look at his face before were now glued to his lips. Self-satisfied he continued, secure in the knowledge that he was on the right track.

“The truth is: The lords didn't do anything. I mean, think about it: How did Arcavus become the great god? Easy, by being the greatest, mightiest conqueror who ever lived. In comparison, what did his descendants do to become gods? Being born? Doesn't that seem strange to anyone?

“Now think about me and my cousin, the seer as you call him. Think about our story you've heard in the taverns. How could it be that a common merchant like the old Fastgrade could speak to the gods and learn how to make the god's drink? Simple: He achieved a lot in his life. Some of you should know the old Fastgrade. Anyone know what kind of guy he was?”

One man raised his hand. Toldo, Atau remembered. “Yeah, I've been on his ship a couple years ago. A good guy that one was. Proper gentleman. Not like our misers over in Etra.”

“Exactly. The old Fastgrade worked his way from the bottom all the way to a fortune. So how do you reach this close to Arcavus, learn secrets like how to make brandy? By being successful and by being kind. I mean, Arcavus himself wasn't descended from any gods and achieved all his greatness by himself. Why would the rules change for the sons?”

“That's right!”

“Isn't the other stuff a trick to hold us common folk down then?”

Satisfied, Atau looked over the riled up crowd. Even though it had all been improvised, he was sure that his ideas would change their opinions on him. After all, he was no longer the enemy. The enemy were the lords. According to Laqhis, the best way to unite was always through a common enemy.

“In the end, I'm as much common folk as anyone here. So how about we all work together from now on. Together, we'll get over to Eniila, pull some gold from the pockets of the masters and take it back to Etra. You guys with me?”

Before Atau had even finished his speech, Rallo had started to nod with enthusiasm. Soon enough, all the other men joined in as well. Even the old John, who hadn't said a single word beyond the initial insult, seemed deep in thought as he considered Atau's words before he nodded with the rest, his eyes cast down into his beer. Atau himself believed that he had solved the biggest problem of their journey. Surely, now the men had understood what was at stake here. Now, the men had realized that they would have to work together, that a rift could destroy the fleet.

Satisfied, the first mate went back down the stern of the ship, to the captain's quarters. Since the troubles on deck had been resolved as they neared the most dangerous part of their journey, he would have to inform the captain of the good news. However, Atau did not understand just what sort of storm his careless words would unleash, both atop the ship and across Arcavia, and finally all across the world.

Night had fallen over the Freezing Sea and most men lay in their quarters. However, hidden in a corner of the lower deck, darker than anywhere else, two men concocted a plan.

“What do you think about that stuff the big one said, old John?” Polder asked.

“Makes sense, doesn't it? I mean, he's still a bastard for skipping ahead in rank, and it still means luck, but at least on Arcavus he should be right, shouldn't he?”

“So what does that mean for us then?” Scratching his head, Polder continued his questions. He was probably curious about the reason for their secret meeting.

“If anything, it means that we're not doing too well.”

“Huh, what do you mean, John?”

“Think, brat! If your post in heaven above comes down to how well you're doin' down here, then aren't we all losin', the whole crew?”

“Huh?”

Old John sighed. Despite his betrayal, that was one thing the big bastard had over Polder at least. Atau was a pretty smart one. Still, John would have to work with what he had.

“Listen up, you get to sit with the gods if ya do well for yourself, right? Even become a god?”

“Yea?”

“So what have we done with our lives? Sailed around a bit and blown all our coin on whorin' and boozin'? What do we have to show when our time comes? We're as poor as we were when we saw our first sail. So if a great merchant like Fastgrade gets to sit with the Lords, where do you reckon we get to sit? Under deck, eatin' hard tack, that's where.”

Finally, the dullard understood the meaning behind John's words. His eyes darted around in panic, searching for an way out of his miserable life, a way to make up for his faults and eat with the gods. In the end, his gaze returned to old John, the one who always had the answers.

“What do we do then?” Polder asked with a quiver in his voice.

“Ain't that easy?” Suddenly, a grin returned to old John's face. He looked over his shoulder, to make sure no one would listen in. “We just gotta take over the ship.”

“What!?”

“Shhh.” With warning eyes, old John put a finger over his mouth to shut up the dimwit. “You wanna get us keelhauled?”

Panicked and confused again, Polder looked around before bent down towards old John and answered in a whisper.

“Isn't that bad? Even I know you're not supposed to do that.”

“Why not? Didn't the big one say it too? You work hard all day and the ones to profit are only the lords. Well, like this, aren't we working hard?”

“You bet your ass we are.”

“So where's our money then? The merchant bosses get fat and fatter and we have to sit in this stinkin' cabin till our teeth rot off?” he said as he pointed at the few crooked teeth he had left. “Nah, we'll just do what the seer did: Take from the rich and give it to the poor. We'll make sure every man on the ship gets to the afterlife a rich man, that way everyone gets to sit on that table.”

“But... isn't that dangerous? We're not gonna win over the men for this sorta thing, not enough to beat the captain, at least.”

“Why not? They hate the big one already for stealing march and almost half the crew are proper Reverers like ourselves. All we gotta do is collect 'em together, quiet-like. Then we wait till the Cape of Tears. Over there, the captain is gonna be too busy steerin' the ship to care for us. We'll strike then. They'll never see it comin'.”

“Still don't think we should be doin' this.”

“Didn't you want your own ship? Well, this one might be your only shot. We're not gonna get another mutiny done. With all the trouble this time, Devaerter's gonna clean up all the Reverers on deck when we get home. You know that's true.”

As he dreamed of the riches which awaited him, Polder's frown transformed into a smile.

“Alright, I'm in.”

Even though Old John felt bad for leading the young man into danger, he would suppress his guilt. In the end, Polder was still young and had much time left to achieve his goals, but getting there early would still be good. What John did wasn't wrong, and he himself didn't have many years left. He needed to do something with his life, now, before he ended up at the foot of the table. On that he would insist, even if he had to sacrifice a few deckhands to do so.