Once a day, she would take a morning sick call at the mainmast of the Galleon, assisted by Millie, and some of the Medics. The cockpit partitioned near the hatchway was now opened. With her was the naval Doctor, sitting on one of the sandbags.

The Dread Seas was a quiet place. Quieter than any seas that she had seen. She had been traveling to one court after another, and yet the silence of the Dread Line was intimidating. If it wasn’t for the shanty of the males above deck. Zyra would have lost her mind!

It had been five days since the fleet entered the Dread Line. After that attack, the fleet has been traveling dead water. The still water had any waves in it. So still that she could throw something on the water, and she'd see it ripple. No one looks down on that seawater. Not when they might see the glowing eyes looking back.

She heard from her colleague, who has been a good friend of her since she started this journey. That the Dread Sea has a way of making people uncomfortable. She had not felt this uncomfortable thought until recently. But she did observe that among the sailors, no one of them looked down, and even if they do look down. They would follow it with a shanty, which she assumed was a way for them to cope.

She had thought that this would be quiet a suicidal journey. And it had been. The Destruction of Old Carthan. The troubles in the mainland the unknown event. Tascam’s Point. It was so confusing, but it was better than her old life.

She had thrown it all away for the sake of coming here. To forget, to be far from the fakes of the Court, the bickering of old men and women, claiming power.

She was thankful that her colleague was a person who did not care for politics. Though her old habits had her asking, wondering, and questioning why such a grand fleet was formed. Her colleague sniffed, barked, and make fun when she started questions like that. One day she would drug this person, and have him wake up in his puke. But then again, he was Ravaian, a title that must have been enough to make him hate himself. No need to make him hate himself more.

It was no wonder that he would try to avoid politics in this grand fleet. Unfortunately, that caused her to eavesdrop on the Constables and Scribes. Who should be bathing with how they reek of sweat and ink all the time. She had heard interesting things which she had no one to talk to. Millie, for her potential, was still a dishwasher at heart. She held no thoughts about politics. And most of the time her heart seemed like it was being taken by their servant. Who her colleague had been teaching, hoping that he might make a doctor out of this corpse-bearer.

As for Gabrio, her Ravaian colleague. His soft manner of speaking, his dedication to both of his studies and duties on the ship deserves a bit of respect. She does not know much of him other than their bare interactions. But he was definitely what she would call one of the spawns of Fort Rava. Single-minded individuals with grim determination. He was competent enough that she could get along with him.

They’ve been together almost all the time since coming aboard this ship. And even though there was a bar inside the ship full of soldiers. No one on the ship would be easy to talk to other than those who were working for the ship’s clinic. So he had become a friend of hers.

She doubts she would have fun talking to the Inquisitor or the various individuals. Still, she couldn't help but wonder what they are planning by bringing that of blue blood in the Galleon.

Gabrio had been writing on that journal of his. He had been looking at it so much that she was starting to wonder if he would burn holes on it. She could only hear his writing tool scratching against the paper. Though it would be best if he would open his mouth, and talk to his colleague. She understood that he was recording his thoughts. A healthy habit that she should be looking into getting to. But then again she was not fond of writing her thoughts and feelings for anyone to see. Though he seemed to be encrypting his writings to which she could not understand why. Or was this a Ravaian thing that they all do?

“Do you think we’ll meet more monsters?” Zyra asked him.

He turned to her. “I don’t know. I would prefer it if we don’t.”

“It has been days. What do you think is happening?

“Either they have not detected us. Or that they are lurking below us, waiting to attack.”

He said that with such dispassion. There was no point talking to someone who would rather stare at his journal than her. So Zyra thought about taking out of her smoking pipe. He hated smoking. For a person who deals with blood and dead, it was odd. Though then again he keeps a crate of molding bread. Was it for his experiments? She had no idea.

She stayed on her cot smoking her pipe. Outside the cockpit, she heard the sounds of the crew singing their shanty in such a crude manner. That she might as well find a cork to deafen her ears from the screeching they call singing.

“Awful,” Gabrio hissed through the tip of his tongue.

She gave him a grin, which he returned with a shrug. As time passes his thoughts of her as someone who was not of the female species had started to anger Zyra. She may not have the proper three-sizes, but the downright DENIAL of her qualities angers her!

“You do treat me like a man.”

“Pardon?”

“Do you prefer the same sex, Gabrio?”

“Excuse…me?”

“Do you?”

“What brought this?”

“Do you?”

“You are pretty?

“Do you?”

“You are a beautiful girl who likes smoking?”

He clapped his book.

“I should open the hatchway.”

“You should. Instead of staring at that diary of yours.”

“It’s a journal.”

“The same thing.”

“Okay, looks like we don’t agree on that then.”

She couldn’t help but grin when he chooses not to take the bait. But since he had clapped that book. She chooses to let it go. He should understand how silent it was. The chatter should at least bring some noise. Better than the screeching they are doing outside.

Then the night came. As night was the most dangerous in the Dread Line. She followed Gabrio back to their home deck. Millie and Wiles had already taken the liberty to get the meals. They were separated from the rest of the crews when it comes to eating. After all, their ranking in this ship was that of commissioned officers. And thus they are getting good rations on their plates. She does worry that the bar up their deck was going to cause rations to go out.

But then again she had recently overheard a discussion from the Inquisitor of the ship. Inquisitor Cooper Ackie, a personage working in the state. Was a rather known figure in the Courts of Falsetina and Okabo. He had worked for the state, seeking out dissenters who would dare to question the united Aon.

United People of Aon. Pretty sounding words, if one would ignore how it happened in the first place. The Chancellor might be an impressive man, a charismatic leader, and a genius of tactics, but he was still a man. He had his failings and the Dai Khan’s had to act. The Inquisitors then had to purge the dissenters who wanted the blue blood. She had heard that before the reigning family was taken down. The Chancellor of Aon himself took the time to lead the charge. The Royals blue blood had wet the throne and the carpet when the Chancellor arrived in front of their gates.

It was not bloodless like people like to believe. That lie spread through the power of the press. That machinery they use to produce books and papers. These presses were used to spread lies to the masses or through the mouths of criers. She was still a young girl back then, a young girl learning a trade that deals with death. She helped by passing the papers to the paper and reading the content.

It was stupid of her to think of all this while eating. She suppressed the thoughts back to the backside of her mind. Letting her thoughts filled with what was in front of her. The smell of the food and the mead that accompanied it. That was what she needed.

After the meal, she headed back to her room. She had placed the hatch on the round glass window that each room had. The stupidity of that round window bothered her. And yet she understood that they did that in hopes to spot the Dread Line monsters from below. But to do that when the light itself cannot peer through this darkness was hopeless. Unless they had special means to detect said monsters. She couldn't believe that the Galleon would make use of the windows. She believed that most of the rooms occupied by personnel were useless.

She shouldn’t think or focus on politics in this boat. The Dread Line…the places that they must pass for this voyage to succeed. This was her new home. She does admit that this choice was not so simple. She wished that she had talked to her sisters in the Dai with an open heart before she came here.

Coward. They’ll say that. She knows they will. Not that she has any plans to swim back and take her words back

Silence. There was silence. Only the silent swaying of the iron lamps and the occasional chatter above the decks. She turned her eyes on the tome that Gabrio lent her. She had not read it all and have been reading it in her own time. The Butcher of Fort Rava was an interesting man. He was called a butcher, an abomination who would spoil the ground if it means he can gather knowledge. She understands why he does it, but the thought of it bothers her.

She thought of her friend, Gabrio.

She didn't intend to pry on his affairs. Everyone on this ship was fools who came for the journey. They were here to run away from whatever past they were running from. It also because they won't let go of the things they wanted to throw away. No one came here expecting good things to happen. Yet here she was restless in her bed, fearing the howling underneath the ship, and the movement of shadows.

She could face a Dai Khan and stare them in the face. And yet she felt so weak faced with the awesomeness of the sea. Especially, when the sea itself was brimming with monsters who could tear the fleet apart. There could be hundreds of these monsters swimming below the sea. And yet here she was worried about the past and this awful bed that had made her backache.

It was already late. The watchers were looking for beasts to shout at while the rest sleeps in their bunk or hammock. Sleep wouldn’t find her so she thought of smoking a pipe. Smoking was awful, but it was her only way to cope with this. She might run out of tobacco if she continues this. She then wondered if she had to ration her supply. After all, she won’t find another stash of tobacco in the next few months or years.

Then again, if she runs out of tobacco. Then it means that she will have to change, and find a new way to cope, which could be good for her health as well. Or she could make it a hobby of hers to read the tomes or bother the scribes who had brought a chest full of them.