Not long after, Wilhelm was rubbing at his sore wrists with his fourth bowl of god-knows-what in front of him in the ship’s mess hall. The room was made up of six tables which Wilhelm thought looked like picnic benches, and a counter from which the crew’s chef served food that doubled as the entrance to the kitchen. Oddly, a mirror hung beside the entrance as well, though he thought it was out of place.

He was joined by Absalom, Nate - and despite Nate’s dirty looks - Quinn sat down as well.

“Yeah, we call it slop because it looks like…well, you can probably figure it out, kind of self-explanatory. Tastes like slop too, but don’t let Esteban hear I said that, or he’ll use my arms to make stock.” Quinn was gesticulating with a spoon that still had some slop on it, sending bits of it everywhere as he spoke. Nate and Absalom both grabbed no food, while Wilhelm had already gone through three servings.

“I never knew being transported across worlds racked up such an appetite.” Wilhelm said, shoveling more into his mouth. Quinn wasn’t wrong – it was pretty bad – but to his starved state it was like heaven.

Nate shrugged. “Probably some of your appetite is from that, but a more likely cause is the aspect. Becoming bound to an aspect is a strenuous event, one that your body is still recovering from. The food will go a long way towards helping that, though.

“Am I injured or something?” Wilhelm said around a mouth of food.

Nate shook his head. “Not quite. Think of it this way: Your body and soul are intrinsically connected, and that relationship can only be severed by death. But things that happen to your soul are reflected in your body, and vice versa. Though it’s rare for something to happen to your body that reflects in your soul, it is possible. Anyway, your soul underwent a large change, and so your body needs time to adapt. For most aspected, nothing overt happens, just some minor things that can help in relation to their powers, but the rarer aspects tend to give more exotic changes. I saw one guy who was bound to the aspect of rams; he had massive horns growing from his head. Looked painful to use, but to each their own.”

Wilhelm stared at Nate.

“I’m not going to get cat ears or something, am I? That’s a whole thing on my world, and while I support those who partake, it’s not something I’m interested in.”

Nate looked thoughtful for a moment, but Absalom stepped in.

“You probably won’t get anything so…odd. Judging from the feeling you were having in your stomach; I’d bet the aspect is something fire related.”

Wilhelm nodded. “That would explain the burning. How do I know what aspect I’m bound to?”

Nate pointed at the book Wilhelm had placed on the table. “Pocketbook. If you haven’t opened it yet, you should. It will explain a lot.”

Wilhelm reached for it but was hesitant.

“What kind of stuff will I find inside?”

Nate shrugged, and Quinn interjected.

“Nobody can tell you that for sure. Everyone’s pocketbook is different. Some have only basic information about themselves, while others work as a subconscious diary. Mine has some basic information about me, which nearly everyone’s does, and then fun jokes in the back!” He smiled proudly while his crewmate and Captain simultaneously rolled their eyes.

“Your soul is like a Snapple cap?”

“Don’t know what that means, but it sounds fun. You say a lot of things that don’t make sense, it seems. Come to think of it, you didn’t know what a pocketbook was…” He looked thoughtfully up while he tapped a finger against his chin before suddenly snapping his fingers and making a finger gun pointed at Wilhelm, “You’re Sylum, yeah?”

Absalom and Nate turned to Quinn in shock.

“What? Why’s it so surprising that I know that?”

Absalom opened his mouth to speak, but Nate was faster.

“Because you’re kind of an idiot?”

Quinn was affronted and scoffed. “Excuse you, Nate. I am an intelligent, educated sailor among savages on this grimy vessel.” He dipped his head towards Absalom, “No offense intended, Captain.”

“Ignoring that, how do you know what a Sylum is, Quinn? Absalom didn’t even know.”

Quinn shrugged. “My dad likes that kind of weird stuff. He’s always been into it since I was a kid. Some of the knowledge rubbed off, even if I tried to avoid it. He’s an enthusiast of sorts.”

Wilhelm smiled in excitement, “Can we go to your dad then? Maybe he can help out.”

Quinn grimaced. “Probably not the best idea. I haven’t seen him in a while and…things could get messy is all. Maybe one day.”

Wilhelm let the matter drop. Being embroiled in family drama fresh off being transported between worlds wasn’t his idea of fun. Or safety, in all likelihood. He turned back to Absalom and Nate, “So what does Sylum mean?”

Nate rolled his eyes, “You’re obviously delaying opening your pocketbook, but fine. Sylum comes from ‘Asylum’ because, simply put, most people who are transported to our world go insane from the stress of it and are placed inside an asylum. Hence the name.”

Wilhelm blinked a few times more than was necessary.

“What?”

“What do you mean, what?”

“Am I insane?”

“Do you feel insane?”

“Wouldn’t an insane person not feel insane?” Wilhelm pointed out.

“I don’t know, would they? I’m not insane, how should I know?” Nate countered.

“As the resident insane person,” Quinn said, “I have to admit it feels great. Like an army of gnomes giving you a foot massage, but to every inch of your brain all at once, at all times. Do you feel better than normal, Wilhelm?”

He poked his body in various places and shrugged.

“Maybe?”

“Bear in mind, they’re only called Sylum because they usually go insane. There’s still time for you, even if you aren’t insane now. Which you might be. Don’t count that option out.”

“See?” Quinn said with a wide smile, “Look on the bright side. You still might go insane if you aren’t already!”

Absalom cut in. “This is rapidly reaching my threshold for idiocy. Nate, get Wilhelm up to speed on the ship and lay out his options. Quinn…try not to fall overboard.” The Captain walked away with a dramatic swoosh of his coat – something Wilhelm immediately envied – but paused at the doorway. He turned back to Quinn. “Or don’t.”

While Quinn was busy being offended, Wilhelm was staring at his pocketbook.

“There isn’t going to be anything bad in it.” Nate said.

“I know.”

“Then why are you hesitating?”

“It’s just…” Wilhelm wrestled with the words in his head. “In my world, there is no such thing as the soul. Or maybe there is, but there’s no definitive proof of it. There are no pocketbooks, we don’t use swords anymore, and you’ve mentioned magic multiple times since I’ve arrived which we also don’t have. Magic and the soul are just myth and legend, the kind of stuff we have in books for children to fantasize about when they’re kids until they grow out of it and face the real world. If I open this book, it will confirm that all of those things that I was taught were bullshit are not only real, but all around me. And inside me, in the case of the soul.”

Nate shrugged. “Broadening your horizons can be scary. I understand your hesitancy to an extent. And the soul isn’t so much inside you as it is a detached part of you connected by a spiritual thread, but that’s irrelevant.”

Wilhelm shook his head. “No, I don’t think you do understand. This is like if my horizons were as narrow as a straw and suddenly, they were expanded to the length of the universe – a simile that I’m not even sure if you understand because I’m in another world and I don’t know if straws even exist here!” Wilhelm was almost yelling by the end and forced himself to take some deep breaths.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to blow up at you like that. It’s just a lot.”

Nate opened his mouth, but Quinn cut him off by putting a hand on Wilhelm’s back.

“You’re right, we don’t know what you’re going through. Can’t, really. You’re in a whole other world, and we,” he gave a pointed look to Nate, “Have been less sensitive to your situation than we should be. You know, with the locking you up and all. No hard feelings on that, yeah?”

“But, you’re a part of this crew now, and that means we stick together.” He gave Wilhelm a pat on the back.”

“Since when did you get so empathetic?” Nate asked.

“I’ve always been empathetic, just ask any of the girls in port. And some of the guys, t-“

“Wait,” Wilhelm interrupted, “I’m a part of your crew now?”

Nate and Quinn looked at each other.

“Well…If you want, yeah.” Quinn said gently. “That was one of the options the Captain mentioned. Join up with us and the navy. The pay isn’t bad, and you get to see a lot of amazing things, especially when you’re in our crew. You might even find a way home, who knows.” he explained. “Plus, I can show you all the best places to get hammered in port.”

“Which port?”

“Any, Wilhelm. Any. I’m like an encyclopedia but for alcoholism.”

“People who are aspected are extremely valuable,” Nate said, forcing the conversation back on track. “They have abilities that normal people simply can’t match, no matter how much they try. We only have a couple on board – Captain being one of them – and we’re on the high side for most naval crews. Among the grunts, anyway, I’m sure the nobility are flush with them. Despite having no training, you have value. Captain Absalom was going to offer to train you and teach you about the world, put you in the navy. The whole deal.”

“I’d have to think about it, but wouldn’t I kind of stick out?”

Nate and Quinn shook their heads immediately.

“Not at all.” Quinn said, “The thing you need to know about Captain Absalom is that he’s fond of the little guy. Misfits, weirdos, people who stick out and don’t fit in. He’s kind of soft, in that way, but don’t tell him that. Most everyone on this crew either has some shit or had some shit that they deal with or dealt with, and almost all of them can attribute their relative functionality to our Captain. In this crew, you won’t be an outcast: you’ll just be another sailor.”

Wilhelm was quiet for a moment.

“What are my other options?”

“We take you to a port town and set you off on your own. I don’t recommend that option; you will likely go insane, die, or both. Probably gruesomely. The middle ground option is to bring you to someone Captain knows that can help you get a handle on your aspect. From there, you can pretty easily find your own way. Good aspected are always in demand, regardless of what your aspect is best at. Combat, agriculture, mining, transport, and everything in-between. The choice is up to you.” Quinn took a long sip from his mug and let out an obnoxious “Ah” when he finished.

“Why do this for me? I’m a total stranger who appeared on your ship in the middle of the night. Why not just dump me at the closest port and move on?”

Nate jerked his head to the doorway.

“Like Quinn said. Captain Absalom’s got a soft spot for the misfits, and you’re about as misfit as they come. You appeared in the middle of a storm, somehow had an aspect roiling around inside you that you hadn’t claimed and hadn’t killed you, and literally come from another world. You’re pretty unique. I’ve never even heard of someone surviving a rogue aspect inside them for less than a few minutes, and you had yours inside for hours before we guided you through integrating it.”

He thought back to the stoic Captain who drew his sword on Wilhelm the moment he thought he could be a threat and tried to match it to the description the crew members were giving him. It didn’t add up.

Then again, the safest option for Absalom might have been to just kill him if he thought he was a danger. He held off, even when for all Wilhelm knew the correct aspect could have taken down Absalom and his entire ship with him.

“Besides,” Quinn said, “I like you. I think Nate does too.”

“Undetermined, but positively disposed.” Nate agreed.

“You haven’t even known me for a full day. How could you possibly like me already?”

Quinn beamed. “I’m a great judge of character, and I judge that you would be a great person to have on this crew.”

“I take it back,” Nate said, “Negatively disposed. Quinn is a terrible judge of character. You’ll probably bring death and destruction to us all.”

“No I am not! Don’t listen to him.”

“Remember when you said you had a good feeling about that girl you met in Portsmouth, and she ended up planting a bomb in the cabin?”

Quinn waved a hand. “Oh, come on. You’re still mad about that?”

“It was under my bed!”

Wilhelm looked between Nate and Quinn and wondered if it would have been better to have been transported into the middle of the ocean, drowning immediately.

“Now, quit being a coward and open the damn book.”

Wilhelm sighed and finally opened to the first page:

Name: Wilhelm Gideon Fisher

Age: 23

Race (Former): Human

Race (Current): Alloy

Aspect: Fire (Enhanced by ▓▓▓▓▓▓)

World (Former): Earth

World (Current): Manifest

Sensitive details restricted until operator [Wilhelm Gideon Fisher] meets requirements.

Restriction level: [▓▓▓▓▓▓]

You do not have permission to read further.

After Wilhelm had been staring blankly at his pocketbook for over ten minutes, Quinn shook him lightly on the shoulder. He did not respond.

“Wilhelm? Buddy? You in there?”

He continued staring, eyes glazed over at the page.

Quinn shared a look with Nate who shrugged.

“I know we told him that he wouldn’t be a weirdo among our crew, but I think it’s pretty clear he will be. Even the weirdest on our crew don’t have stuff like this happen with such frequency.”

Quinn gave him a flat look and went back to shaking Wilhelm.

“Hey, it’s me, Quinn. You know, the dashingly handsome one? I was chosen as one of the first people for you to see when you woke up so you would have some good memories even if it wasn’t pleasant.”

“I think you’re making him recede inward even further.”

“Shut up. Remember when you said ‘afoot’ as one of the first words when you woke up? That was weird. I still think it’s weird if I’m being honest-“

“He appeared on our ship in the middle of a storm and that was the part you thought was weird about him? His word choice? His verbiage?” Nate asked, baffled.

“You don’t think it’s weird? I mean seriously, who says afoot?”

After multiple minutes of arguing, Absalom walked in. The two crewmen immediately stood and saluted. Wilhelm didn’t even seem to notice.

“What’s wrong with him?” The Captain immediately asked.

“Not sure, sir.” Nate said, “He finally opened his pocketbook and he’s been staring at it like that for a quarter hour now.”

“And neither of you thought to pull him from the stupor?”

“Quinn did, sir. I think he made it worse.”

“I did not make it worse!”

* * *

An hour later, Wilhelm was swaying back and forth in his seat, hunched over a mug of not-even-god-knows, slurring his words and babbling incoherently. The liquid was brown and came from a bottle but tasted like no alcohol Wilhelm had ever drank before. It burned as it went down though, so he figured it was just the thing he was looking for.

“I mean, it can’t be that bad that I’m not a human anymore, right? Surely there are races other than humans in your world. Don’t answer that, I don’t want to hear if there aren’t. Back home we only have humans, which I’ve always thought is kind of weird. But some people think dolphins are smarter or something, so maybe they’re another race? Are species races? I should have played more D&D.”

They ended up having to move tables as the sailors came in for supper. It was Wilhelm’s first look at the rest of the crew outside of the few he had already interacted with – not that he cared for much beyond the contents of his cup at the moment.

They filtered in, carrying the salty smells of sweat and the sea and voices heavy with the satisfying fatigue felt after a long day of necessary and rewarding work. To his surprise, they didn’t look like what he’d expected. From movies and television, he’d always envisioned sailors to be big burly men with grizzled beards, big bellies, and bushy eyebrows. Basically, large guys with as many B-adjectives that also could be applied to lumberjacks as possible. Instead, he saw people of every size and color strolling to different tables. From what he could tell, there wasn’t any sort of hierarchy or clique system. People talked to each other with the kind of easiness he imagined came with getting to know someone over many isolated months at sea.

“How would they Hic” Quinn waved a hand in front of his face after he burped, “react if you came home and said you were another race?”

Wilhelm thought for a bit and shrugged. “It would probably be fine. I’m still white, they’d just call me crazy and move on. Random white guy thinks he’s another race from another planet? They’d probably put me on the History channel as an expert. My life actually might get better.”

“What did you do for work on your world?” Quinn asked.

“Data entry. I sat at home all day on a laptop – you don’t know what that is, probably. It’s like a magic device that lets you edit charts and numbers and stuff from far away. Anyway, I did that all day. Click. Edit. Next cell.” His head hung a little lower while he talked, “It kind of sucked, if I’m being honest. Pay was pretty good and working from home is nice, at least until you get lonely enough that you start drinking coffee just to get some human interaction from the barista.”

Nate who had said he wouldn’t get drunk – that is, until Wilhelm explained what was on his pocketbook, at which he immediately downed several mugs – piped up:

“Look on the bright side,” he slurred, “you can’t really get lonelier than being in a whole other world!” He took a large swig and his mug loudly hit the table, making other crew members look his way in annoyance, and another emotion Wilhelm couldn’t place in his inebriated state. Pity?

Wilhelm gave him a flat look while Quinn chuckled. “Thanks, Nate. You’re a big help.”

As if Nate’s mug was his queue to walk in, Captain Absalom strolled in following the entire crew. Everyone standing turned to face him, while those sitting immediately stood to attention. Wilhelm belatedly followed, unsure of his personal protocol since he wasn’t a prisoner anymore and wasn’t in the crew yet but was planning on joining. He swayed as he stood.

Absalom nodded to groups of people prompting them to sit or get food, making his way through the room with his hands clasped behind his back.

He looked at Quinn, Wilhelm, and Nate’s swaying forms and raised an eyebrow, looked to the empty bottle on the table and it raised even higher.

The Captain walked over with an overly relaxed gait that immediately made Quinn and Nate pale, and they close to begged Wilhelm to sit as they did the same. They clasped their hands with far too much strength and glanced at each other as Absalom slowly made his way towards them, winding between tables and exchanging words with crewmembers as they spoke in his direction.

When he finally reached their table, Quinn and Nate were sweating so much Wilhelm almost joined in via osmosis.

“Good day, sir.” Quinn and Nate’s words overlapped and fought each other as they came out.

“Good day, men.” He said, his tone hard. “Wilhelm.” His voice softened heavily.

“I’m not included in ‘men?’”

“It’s ‘men’ in the hierarchical sense,” Absalom explained, “If you’ve decided to join the crew, you would be part of this ‘men’ that I am referring to, once it’s official.”

Wilhelm nodded his thanks and gestured to Quinn and Nate. “What’s wrong with them?”

“Well, I entrusted you to the two people you knew most outside of myself - who could not be spared - to be educated on your options and have your questions answered. And to not get in the way. They, however, seemed to have taken it as an opportunity to get inebriated while on the job.”

“Cap’n,” Quinn hiccupped, “It’s not what it looks like. Promise.”

Captain Absalom’s eyes shot to Quinn’s instantly, and he shriveled back.

“I’d love to hear what it really is, Quinn, because at the moment your punishment is only rising the lower the drink in those mugs is to my eye.”

Quinn’s eyes bulged from his head while he stumbled over his words, and Nate simply put his head in his hands and kept quiet.

Absalom turned back to Wilhelm, “You’re exempt from this of course, Wilhelm. You are our guest and have simply been led astray by perhaps the two worst crew members to entrust you to, but – what was it they said about me before? – I’m just soft hearted like that and naively thought they would take their duties seriously.” His voice dripped venom and the two sailors managed to pale further. He turned one last time to Quinn and cocked his head.

“Now then, Quinn. What are you worried about? I’m just so lighthearted and cuddly.” A few scattered laughs from brave crew members were plucked from the air by a sharp glance from their Captain. “And you never did give me an answer. What does this look like? Because I think I have a pretty good idea myself.”

“Well, we were just-“

“Ah, wrong answer. A shame. At the start of next month, both of you will be on lashing duty. Two weeks from today, to be exact.”

The sailors stumbled over each other to stop talking.

“Have I made myself clear?” Absalom asked.

Quinn and Nate swallowed once a piece, and responded, “Yes, sir.”

Absalom looked to Wilhelm, “If it isn’t too soon, I would prefer for you to give me your answer by the end of tomorrow. We should be reaching land soon after – depending somewhat on your answer - so I’d like to get any preparations done as soon as possible.” Wilhelm nodded, and Absalom walked out of the room. Chairs creaked in unison as everyone craned their heads towards Nate and Quinn.

Wilhelm awkwardly looked at the pairs of eyes fixed on the two men next to him and nudged Nate, who shoved back and continued shaking his head.

He leaned back and whispered to a short, heavily tattooed man with a shaved head just peeking through with stubble. He wore a white tank-top showing off all of his tattoos, the vast majority of which were nautical in nature. Anchors, krakens, sharks, creatures he didn’t know, and more.

“What’s wrong with them?” Wilhelm asked.

The man regarded him with faint surprise as he leaned forward, “Nobody wants to get lashing duty.”

Wilhelm was still confused. “Aren’t they the ones lashing? What’s so bad about that?”

The other man raised an eyebrow at Wilhelm, “How do you think the ones in charge of punishing the crew get treated by everyone else?”

“Sure, that makes sense,” he agreed, “but surely there’s more to it than that. Just being the ones to punish the crew doesn’t seem like enough to warrant this kind of a reaction.”

The man nodded and took a sip from his cup, “Aye, just so. Take a gander over the way,” he gestured with his mug towards a colossal man in the corner. He was sitting with his eyes closed, and his skin had striated patterns that reminded Wilhelm of granite.

“That’s Reg. He’s the one on lashing duty most of the time, except for when someone’s on punishment. He remembers who takes his job, and the next time they’re due for lashes and he’s in charge? He goes all out. Don’t cross Reg. He’ll make you pay for it in blood.”

“And people get lashed a lot? Doesn’t look like a group of troublemakers to me.” He looked at the tables of smiling and laughing sailors joking with each other as he spoke.

“Nah, not really. The crew’s stance on the lashers is more of a political one than anything. I’ve been on ships where it was serious, but here there are so few lashings we’re just keeping up tradition. The only one who gets lashed sometimes is Reg, and he doesn’t mind it. If he decides he needs to do something that will get him lashed, he’ll do it and accept the lashing without complaint. Bit of a psycho, but that’s Reg for ya. Nice guy though. One of those Sedi-men, don’t see too many of them on the seas.”

The man leaned closer to Wilhelm and glanced around at the nearby sailors,

“Can I ask you something, Wilhelm?” he asked in a low tone.

“Sure. What’s your name if you don’t mind me asking first.” Wilhelm asked.

“Name’s Monty. Pleasure to meet you, I’ll get straight to it: You’re the one that appeared on our ship, aren’t you?”

Wilhelm nodded, “That’s me.”

“Then, if you don’t mind me asking, me and a friend have a bit of a bet going on: did you come in on that storm we went through?”

He thought for a moment but nodded again. “More or less. It’s a bit more complicated, but essentially, yeah.”

A wide grin spread across Monty’s face, and he leaned far back in his chair, shouting:

“Lars! Pay up, you greasy old bastard!”

A balding head with thinning blonde hair wrapped around his skull like a headscarf in an attempt at a monstrously ambitious comb-over bobbed to where they spoke. Lars had intense, piercing blue eyes and a mustache like hulk hogan. To Wilhelm, he looked like a very silly man.

“It was the storm, then?” Lars grunted once he pulled over a stool and flipped him a gleaming, intricate coin. It glowed faintly blue, even as it entered the shadows of Monty’s pocket.

“Damn right it was.” Monty turned back to Wilhelm, “Heard another thing. Are you really aspected?”

Wilhelm hesitated but nodded once more. If he was going to be part of this crew, he figured he may as well be honest about that now considering it would be pretty obvious once his training with Absalom started.

Monty instantly looked to Lars, who was already looking at him.

“I bet it was the storm aspect.” Monty said instantly.

Lars cursed. “I bet it wasn’t. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Wilhelm watched the exchange with interest and more than a little confusion, but the two of them seemed to have forgotten he was there. Then, both looked to him at the same time.

“Well?” Monty asked.

“Get on with it then, is it the storm aspect or not?” Lars demanded.

“No, not the storm aspect.”

Monty flipped the coin to Lars without looking, who in turn caught it the same way. Both stormed off mutually angry immediately after, leaving Wilhelm feel like he’d got caught up in a whirlwind.

A nearby sailor took pity on him and leaned over,

“Don’t mind them. They’ve been betting that coin back and forth for years at this point. Found it at the same time on some island out in the Foamy, fought over it and decided to bet it back and forth. They’ve done it ever since. Had gambling addictions before they joined the crew if you can believe it.” She said.

“I think I can.” Wilhelm said drily.