High up in the sky, the sun shot its rays onto the crew and captain of the Homeward, the flagship of Atau's fleet. Although the celestial mother did its best to ease the icy grip of winter, a constant wind blew from the east and carried with it the dreariness of the open seas. Beyond the horizons in the east would be the serpent cliffs, an inauspicious place that had almost killed their great ancestors, if the old legends rang true.

Despite its source, the breeze was fresh, and the direction was good enough to let them move south, back to Port Ulta, their destination. There was a prickling in his fingers, as the cold winds wormed their way into his flesh, but Atau had always loved the cold. Whenever icy weather encroached around him, he could feel his body fight off the invaders, fight for every inch of warmth. To him, the cold made him feel alive. All in all, it was a beautiful day for sailing. Even so, the words of the old priest never let him go.

“The snake and monkey stand in the fox's shadow. The stars have told of a storm that brews in the east, and of rough seas on your journey.”

Of course he knew it was delusional, but as a sailor, superstition was his bread and butter. After all, superstition was the belief that their trivial actions could influence the mighty forces of nature. In the face of high waves, low tides, storms, sandbanks, earthquakes and Doldrums, it was the only thing they could do to stem the tide of insanity. Any sailor who believed themselves powerless in front of destiny wouldn't sail the seas for long.

However, when superstition dealt with fate, it became dangerous. What the Grand Seer had told him had made him feel weaker in front of fate, not stronger. With a frown, Atau thought back to his meeting with the priest back in Port Ulta.

When he met the bald-headed boy in the gray linen robes, Atau had been surprised. However, the youngster's next words caused a downright shock.

“Young master Saqartu, my teacher wishes to meet you.”

“...the Great Seer invites me?” Atau's brows drew together. On any other day, the seers wouldn't meet anyone on their own accord, be they mortal or cultivator. Even the emperors of Medala would only be called into the shrines of the priests on the first day of their coronation and then on the winter solstice every twelve years.

Apart from those meetings, the seers would keep their door open for guests, but they had to pay good coin to have their fate read, or the fate of their dead relatives. Like most Yaku, Atau had heard rumors that the seers would sometimes invite people from all walks of life. According to the rumors, this would happen whenever they read an issue of importance within the stars and needed to relay important messages from the Divines among the stars to the humans below. Of course, the captain put no stake in these stories. Why would the seers undermine their own business model?

If Brym had been here, maybe he would have considered that the priests had spread the rumors themselves, to increase their own reputation among the common folk and legitimize their pointless hobby, but right now, it was only Atau by himself. Not only had the captain been raised Medalan, with a decent fear of the deep dark sea and the force of the stars, he had also become one of the best navigators in the known world over the past few years. He knew just how important knowledge of the stars was for a civilization, and no one knew more about the stars than the priests and seers of the Pacha faith, not even Corco.

While he thought about this and that, the young servant had led him into the inner city of Port Ulta. Although Mason had ruined their relationship with the local lord before, Atau had done his best to repair the holes their cannons had left in the prideful coat of the local lord. At least young master Pahuac Villca had been a great help in this regard.

Thus, after some hard negotiations and many greased palms, he had been allowed inside. At last, he and his crew were free to use the ports of the city, even though the tariffs were outrageous compared to most other estates. Despite his best efforts, Atau could still feel the hostile stares all around him. At least for a while longer, all the warriors in the city would consider him a threat.

Though of course, once their trade route between southern and eastern Medala was established, Port Ulta would become so rich off of their business that they should change attitudes right quick. For now, getting the local priests on his side would be a good next step. Thus he was glad to follow the young priest through the inner city, towards a portion where the walls reached into the bay of Ulta itself, the quarter of the priests. Although the placement of the walls made the city easier to attack from the sea, the halls of the priesthood were worthy of protection more than anything in the port town.

“Here it is, young master Saqartu.” Although he young priest had called him by a title he hadn't worn since his exile from House Saqartu, Atau didn't really care. His mind was occupied by his view upon the Great Caverns, the local temple of Pacha within Port Ulta, and one of the seventeen great holy sites of pilgrimage upon Yakuallpa.

The caves of Qyuluramacai might have been a natural formation of sandstone and feldspar several million years ago, the kind of stone much of the Sallqata mountain range was made up of. However, here the special current within the Bay of Ulta had caused water to rush under the stones. Over a time span his mortal could could not comprehend, the waves washed out the sandstone layers. At least that was the theory Atau had come up with in his head, based on what Corco had taught him about geology.

The result was a stunning system of caves, half underwater and half in the open air, full of holes and snaking tunnels, smooth as glass. Within this beautiful construction of nature, under a giant round hole in the cavern's ceiling, stood the round complex of the local Pacha shrine. Though the buildings were huddled in a circle like in other shrines, here the building materials had been taken from different parts of the cavern. Within the dim light, the small, crooked houses looked like they had stood in this place since the dawn of time. Just like all the other holy sites of Pacha, here as well, the local Grand Seer sat all day to stare at the water and the stars, in the hopes that the Divines would reveal the mysteries of the universe to him.

“Young master Saqartu, the Grand Seer will see you right away. Please step inside.”

“Right.” After a deep breath of the salty air, Atau stepped over the rounded steps and deeper into the murky shrine.

“Ship ahead!” A shout from above woke Atau from his recollection. Annoyed, the captain marched down to the main deck of his ship. Right now, there was no work anyways, so he could leave all the important duties of the bridge to Orin, his first mate.

“Captain,” as he stepped past them, all the sailors dropped what they were doing and stood up straight. Only then did they salute their captain in a proper manner. Although this sort of strictness was unusual on the ships he had first sailed on, he decided that it was more than necessary. He planned to travel to places far beyond what anyone on this side of the world had ever seen. For such a monumental task, he couldn't also deal with disobedient crew. Even more, his bad experiences in this regard had stuck with him throughout the years.

After he had answered with a clear “at ease” to let his crew continue with their work, he stepped up to the main mast.

“What do you see!?” he called up towards the man in the crow's nest as he marched past. Whatever his outlook had seen, 'ship ahead' meant that the captain had to get to the forecastle no matter what.

Atau's lips pursed as the voice in his back brought nothing but bad news.

“Bornish ships! The Bornish are coming!”

“What!?” Rather than turn to the messenger of the outrageous claim, his confident march turned into a rush. Three steps at once he charged up the forecastle's steps. Before he had reached the bough's railing, his hands had grasped for his spyglass all on their own.

When he put it to his right eye, he was reminded of a time in the past, when his entire life had been a giant game of cat and mouse. Far off in the distance, he could see the red-and-white flags he had become so familiar with over the years. In the past he had made a career out of avoiding Bornish ships, but this time would be different. This time, he had his own fleet. This time, they were on his turf, along the shores of his home.

“What are they doing here? Another merchant?” Atau frowned. After the last Bornish merchant had died in an assassination at the end of the succession war, no more Bornish ships had made the journey across the Weltalic Sea. As such, a merchant vessel here would be a surprise to the captain. In the end, he was indeed surprised, just not in a manner he had expected, or hoped for.

In the distance, across the horizon, more and more banners rose from the waves, like snakes ready to resurface, to once again torment the mortals of the land. By the time Atau had regained his composure, the one Bornish ship had turned into three, and the three into a fleet. Not only did they fly the colors of Borna, but even Cahlian banners could be seen among them.

“What is this shit? That has to be half their armada,” the captain whispered. Of course, his hesitation only lasted a second. A captain couldn't allow himself weakness in front of his crew. He had to be their support.

Again he rushed past his men, and again the salutes followed. His steps were calm and steady, the same speed he had shown on his way to the forecastle. While his feet pretended surety, the priest's words swirled in his mind.

'A threat from the east, an oncoming storm.' Were the Bornish troops ready to storm Medala? Had they come to an agreement with Pacha, or even worse, Amautu?

And now that he thought about it, hadn't they come from the south? Maybe they had already raided the southern coastline. No matter what, the Homeward had its own mission to fulfill. First off, they had to make their way back south, back to Port Ulta. If they made it there unharmed, Atau would be sure to donate to the Pacha shrine.

Once he reached his command post again, Orin stepped aside without a word, and gave his captain an inquisitive look. Rather than address his first mate alone, Atau turned towards his ship and forced his voice through the easterly winds to cover his entire deck.

“All hands on deck!” He crossed his hands behind his back and stood up straight, a giant cliff for his drowning men to hold onto. “Bornish ships are up ahead! We've done this a hundred times back in the day, so let's see you idiots try and remember anything beyond boozing and whoring! We're heading due east, towards the open sea! You know the drill!”

“Changing heading due east!” Orin repeated his captain's command towards the crew. On any other day, there was no reason for the captain to shout, but Atau had done so to affirm the crew that he was still in control. Of course, he hadn't told any of his men about the prophecy he had received. That would be his burden to bear. Even though they had a large fleet themselves and even though they didn't know about the Grand Seer's vision, none of the men questioned their captain's decision.

After all, half their ships were bogged down by heavy cargo and half their cannons had been moved onto land over the past year, to be used in various castles all across Corco's kingdom. In their current state, an attack on an enemy fleet of unknown size would be nothing but folly. Even if they had enough strength to win, losing ships, expensive cargo and precious crew in an unprovoked battle sounded like a bad idea to the captain, even more so when they didn't even know what their enemy's goals were.

As Atau stared ahead and pretended calm, the ship veered port-side, until they faced due east. Now the captain's eyes bored into the steel-blue horizon, where the sea melded with the sky. There it was, the east. Again the seer's words forced their way into Atau's mind.

“A storm in the east, huh?” he mumbled into his beard. At this point, he hoped for nothing more than for bad weather. He would much rather deal with the forces of nature than with the combined greed of the Arcavian kingdoms.