Before he knew it morning came, the sunlight dampened by fog. He walked the rough path alone. The morning chill lingered around him, visible by way of the thick mist that covered the area. Nobody else was on the road, and few had been awake at this time of day in Profit’s Landing. Day had just broke, and Wilhelm hurried along, desperate to avoid being late.

Jorah was at his desk, even more bleary eyed than the day before, and pointed him down one of the hallways that split off from the main room, muttering something about how he’d “taken his sweet time about it.”

The hallway was dimply lit by the morning light, and heavy fog lazily drifted in through windows, flowing down the brick like miniature waterfalls. The mist dissipated the further from the source it got, making the center of the hallway clear while the edges were dotted by pool after pool of mist.

He passed through a set of already open double doors, leading into a large dining hall type room that reminded him of the meal scenes in Harry Potter – a tall ceiling, multiple long wooden tables stretched across the room, and a large chandelier dangled overhead.

However, it lacked any and all magic that the Harry Potter room had. The lighting was grey and dull despite the sunlight, the interior damp and cold as opposed to warm and inviting, the chandelier unlit. Dust gathered atop the wicks, squatters inhabiting long abandoned real estate.

The room was sparsely populated. Splotches of people huddled sitting at different lengths of the tables, with a few lonesome individuals either keeping to themselves or awkwardly lingering on the edge of conversations. Most were poorly dressed, wearing weathered clothing or old, likely second-hand naval uniforms.

A couple groups stood out from the others:

A gathering of three men, all older than the rest of the people in the room, all heavily scarred. They wore armored leathers and had short swords at their sides. Nervous glances were shot in their direction from others nearby, but none of them seemed to notice. They appeared relaxed, but Wilhelm spotted the way their hands were never far from the pommels of their swords, and how their eyes scanned their surroundings. One of the men – wearing what looked like more expensive armor than the others – locked eyes with him for a moment. Wilhelm’s breath caught, but he didn’t break the stare. A moment later the gaze passed, unimpressed, and he couldn’t help but feel he was just caught in the vision of a lion who deemed him a poor meal.

A single hulking man sat alone at the end of one table, twiddling his thumbs while he kept his eyes down in front of him. His skin was striated in the same way that Reg was in his own crew, marking him as Sedi, which Wilhelm had gathered was a race of golem-like individuals who were physically imposing to a terrifying degree. Wilhelm had personally seen Reg carry several crates of cannonballs stacked atop one another at the same time without so much as breaking a sweat.

His skin was mostly light brown and dry, resembling sandstone with sparse layers of darker browns, and some even rarer thin bands of such dark blues they were almost black. He had no hair – Wilhelm didn’t even know if they could grow hair considering they were partly stone – and the man looked to be doing his best to avoid attention. A difficult task when you’re a seven-plus foot man partially made of stone. He was oddly timid for a Sedi, though his only exposure to their people was Reg – who while stoic – clobbered anybody who looked at him the wrong way. Then again, assuming they were homogenous culturally was probably a bad idea, and basing those poor assumptions off of one person – a person in Absalom’s crew of weirdos – seemed like a profoundly bad idea. Most Sedi people leaned towards timidity, for all he knew.

Finally, the last group was also the largest, and had the most hangers-on. Intricate uniforms inlaid with bright yellow thread were worn by men and women with perfectly quaffed hair and immaculate skin, each and every one of them clearly valuing appearances. Wilhelm’s first impressions were that their laughs were haughty and their demeanors insufferable to the point that he instinctively hated each and every one of them, which while practically baseless, he didn’t feel the need nor the desire to correct his instincts. Every once in a while one of the hangers-on would attempt to join the conversation or interject, only to be silenced by a sharp glare from an obscured man in the center, or were shame-laughed at until they were forced away.

Something changed as he walked in the room, entirely unrelated to his entrance. The group of wealthy would-be sailors stiffened, and their leader emerged from their midst.

He looked like prince charming. Nauseatingly handsome, long blonde hair, fit, wearing beautifully made clothing that fit like his skin was a moth-bitten Goodwill suit. His strides were confident and faintly disdainful, like he owned the floor he walked upon but would really rather not. In addition to a uniform that was only vaguely naval considering all of the golden filigree, he had a silver cape with the same symbol Wilhelm saw on the ship emblazoned upon it, clasped around his neck by two jade hands, a perpetual chokehold.

He approached the lone Sedi-man, who desperately kept his eyes down and away from the approaching man.

“Good morning, Sedi,” the man’s voice carried clearly across the entire room in a practiced manner, allowing all the aspiring navy-men to hear. Many heads turned in their direction, most curious, though there were a few exceptions. The hangers-on looked at the Sedi-man with disdain and unbridled jealousy, while the three older men looked on with vaguely sour expressions, but stayed put. It could easily have been disinterest; they were hard to read, to Wilhelm.

“I couldn’t help but notice you are sitting all by your lonesome. Please, come sit with me and my compatriots, I’m sure a man of your… stature has many interesting tales to tell.”

The large man mumbled something in return, eliciting a few snickers from the distant leering group.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite understand that.” The man responded, a malevolent glint flashing in his eye.

“Thank you, but I would rather not.” The man responded loudly, clearly louder than he had intended judging from the way he slumped back in his seat, a futile - if instinctual - attempt at making himself smaller.

“Please, I insist.” The man lightly hit himself on the forehead with the palm of his hand and looked theatrically aghast.

“I can’t believe my lack of manners, I never even introduced myself. I am Taylor Rothwell.” He swept a crisp bow, and the Sedi-man only fidgeted more.

“Of House Rothwell!” A woman from the group called out before throwing her head back laughing.

“Yes, quite right Olivia.” Taylor let out a small sigh, “Truthfully, I’d hoped to avoid my noble ancestry while away from home, but our duties know no bounds. Yes, technically I am Heir Taylor Rothwell of the prestigious House Rothwell, if you must insist, Olivia.”

“I’m afraid I must.” She said, her eyes snapping to the still-squirming goliath.

“Do you know House Rothwell, Sedi?”

He mumbled again, and before anyone could tell him to speak up, repeated himself.

“I’m aware of House Rothwell. My family comes from a peninsula close to the islands you control.” He finished, looking at the Heir with the final sentence.

Taylor scoffed. “Oh, please, they aren’t my islands. Well, at least not yet!” He said, causing a tinkling laugh from the group he’d come from.

“And what is the name of your family, if you would be so kind to inform me?”

“We are the Cianita family. We are not large; I doubt you have heard of us. I am Oro.”

Taylor continued looking at him, expectantly.

“…sir.” Oro added finally.

The Heir continued without a beat, “You may be from a small family, but I see great things in you, Oro.” He set a hand on the man’s shoulder, causing him to stiffen in discomfort.

“Have you ever thought about the benefits of being in a Noble crew, Oro?” The man didn’t respond, instead opting to stare straight forward.

“Is your family important to you, Oro?”

“They are.” He replied, his eyes showing suspicion.

“In a noble crew, you could change their lives. You say you’re a small family now, but you don’t need to stay small forever, nor do you need to stay weak. Us Rothwell’s are hardly massive, but as I’m sure you know, we command considerable weight within the Heart proper.”

“I’m sure it’s a great… opportunity, for those it comes to,” Oro replied without commitment.

Taylor smiled wide. “Between you and me, Oro,” he announced to the entire room. “I think you have what it takes to join my crew. What do you say?”

“I…thank you for this offer, but I must decline. I am already promised to another Captain.” The words came out in a rush, like he had been waiting for an opportunity to say them.

“Oh, that’s no matter,” the Heir waved a hand, “It’s all part of being on the sea, I’m sure you know. A sailor must look out for themselves, and I’m sure you’ll find a Noble ship to be more beneficial than whatever commoner’s vessel you’re planning on manning.”

Oro winced slightly, and his eyes fell back to the table.

“I’m sorry, but I really can’t. I’m sure your crew would be wonderful, but I will not go back on my word.”

“Oh, please Oro, you don’t need to be so meek. I highly doubt your Captain is listening in, you can speak how you really feel. Though, he isn’t your Captain yet, is he? It sounds to me like you’re still available for purchase.”

Still available for purchase. Like Oro was some commodity, not a person with the capacity for his own decisions. Wilhelm already hadn’t liked what he was watching, but it took another souring. His legs tensed without him even realizing it, and a small bit of warmth spread through his body.

“Who is your Captain? Some recent upstart, eager to make a name for himself in the navy? Those projects never go anywhere, I can assure you. They lack the funding and expertise that us Noble crews have; it’s part of what sets us apart. Or is he an old seadog, already past his prime, content to drag such a promising specimen such as yourself with him into obscurity? Or, perhaps he lives somewhere in the middle, basking in the mediocrity of a half-finished career on the ocean. Don’t fall into those entrapments, Oro.”

The Sedi looked back at Taylor with an emotion other than resignation for the first time, a spark of anger alighting in his eyes.

“My Captain is an honorable man, one whom I would follow even if he were all of those things that you described. And yes, he is my Captain because I will be joining his crew despite your attempts at poaching.”

Taylor’s stare went cold, the smile vanishing from his face.

“Oro, are you accusing a noble Heir of unlawful poaching?” He turned back to the group of people he had been speaking with earlier, all of whom wore smug expressions on their faces.

“You all heard that, did you not?”

“Oh yes, Heir. We heard loud and clear; I do believe the lumpy rock accused you of poaching.” Olivia chirped, immediately falling back into a bout of shrill laughter immediately after. The rest of the group followed momentarily.

“You do understand what an offense this is, do you not, Oro?”

The large man had gone pale. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to accuse you, it was an accident-“ the words tumbled out, forced through panic.

Taylor shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, Oro, but I’m afraid I must report this to my father. I’m sure you know my father – The Tusked General, he’s called by some. He doesn’t take kindly to such accusations on his young. What was your last name, again? The Cianita’s?” Another theatrical sigh.

“I’m afraid a visit may be in order.”

Oro’s eyes went wide, and he shook his head viciously.

“Please, it was an accident! I didn’t mean it; I’ll do anything, I’ll even-“

Wilhelm’s hand landed on Oro’s shoulder and stopped him from speaking further.

He looked down briefly at his own legs in surprise. When had that happened?

“I think that’s enough of that. Quit harassing Oro and go back to your sycophants, Rothwell. You’ve had your fun.” Wilhelm said, his steady voice surprising even himself.

Taylor turned on him with rage in his eyes. “Do you know who I am?”

Wilhelm shrugged. “An Heir to some stuck-up family that gets off on harassing people you think are lesser than you. And probably exploiting the people you’re supposed to protect, but that one’s just a guess. Truth be told, I don’t really care.”

“And who are you to speak to him this way?” A thin-lipped man called from the group of leeches.

“Doesn’t matter, does it? Unless I say I’m from a different House of assholes that are equal or greater in status to yours you’ll look down on me anyway, so what’s the point? I’m common as muck, and that’s all you need to know.”

“At least you got something right,” Taylor sneered, “When my father hears about this-“

Wilhelm rolled his eyes. “Really? Your dad? Come on, you’re the Heir to this House, surely you can pull your own weight. Do you really need to invoke his name every time you get the slightest bit offended? Do you hold that little respect and power?”

A couple of men stood up from the group – they weren’t large, but they were decently built, and Wilhelm started sweating slightly. He wasn’t confident that if it came to a fight he would come out on top. His martial prowess was nothing to write home about.

Thankfully, Taylor waved them down, though they did so reluctantly. He turned back with more malevolence, and an unsettling grin.

“Watch your words, debris. The moment I pass this sorry excuse for a town’s naval exam and return home, I’ve been promised a Shard from an Elite Aspect. Or would you prefer having a powerful Noble Aspected for an enemy in your future?” The words dripped out, the bully savoring every second of it.

Wilhelm only raised an eyebrow.

“You aren’t even Aspected yet? I thought you were from a powerful Noble House. Can you all not even afford to give your own Heir an Aspect before his naval exam? I was never the best with finances, but I’ll try to help: Spend less money on gaudy clothing and decorations and invest more in your future. Or literally anything else – seriously dude, if you stand in direct sunlight I feel like I’m going to lose my vision. It physically pains me.”

One of the gruff looking men cracked a small grin, which did not put Wilhelm at ease. He rapidly was realizing that he’d put himself at the center of attention – a place he had never been comfortable before – and the initial burst of calm was wearing off faster than he’d like.

The Heir sneered. “You have no concept of the responsibilities of a Noble House, nor the financial burden to run one. Do you even understand how expensive an Elite Shard is? Enough to purchase the ship you sail upon and several dozen more of the same kind without hardly cracking the surface.”

“Without hardly cracking the surface? Come on, I’m sure whatever private tutors your dad hired taught you better than that-“

Taylor smiled wider. “Keep up your petty insults. When I’m an Aspected, I will remember your face. What will you do then, I wonder? Will you be this bold? I suspect not.” The group’s smug grins returned, mirroring their leader.

Wilhelm’s gut acted without consulting his brain. He had been holding thin strands of fire in his veins the entire exchange, but only now did they come out. A coil of flame in the rough shape of a snake slithered up his arm, wrapping around his clothing and in some places exposed skin without so much as singing a hair.

“I think I’m ahead of you on that front. I’ll ask you again: Go away.” He cocked his head. “That was a demand, now that I think about it, but I think I like that more. Leave. Scamper. Shoo. Depart. Flee. Retreat. Whichever you prefer; do it.”

The Heir’s demeanor changed significantly upon seeing Wilhelm’s Aspected display, his eyes still glued to the snake dancing up his arm.

“I…didn’t realize you were an Aspected, confrère. I apologize for any offense my comments may have incurred; I’m sure you understand.”

Confrère? Understand? He absolutely did not, and his little display had caused even more eyes to lock onto them, but it seemed he had an opportunity. He gave Taylor a terse nod, who bowed his head slightly in return and scampered back to his now uneasy group, and sat down in front of Oro with what he helped was projected confidence.

Two of the older men looked at him with amusement, a sort of “You showed him” energy that he would expect from his dad, while the leader was expressionless, a calculating look in his eye. Wilhelm didn’t like it.

None of the hanger-on’s dared approach him after his spat with the Heir, though some looked tempted, but the moment his fire snake detonated into sparks and smoke they shuffled away.

He turned to Oro, who was looking at him with a conflicting mix of fear and gratefulness.

Wilhelm grimaced and spoke in a low voice. “Sorry about that. Maybe you had that under control, I don’t know, I just kind of acted. I didn’t really think about it. I hope I didn’t cause any issues for you or your family.” He began to get up and walk away, but Oro stopped him.

“Please, stay. I doubt those threats will be acted on after your, uh, display, and I fear I might have said something I would have come to regret if you hadn’t stopped me.” He coughed once.

“Well, something else I would regret at least.”

Wilhelm gave a small smile. “I’m glad I was able to help, then. If you don’t mind me asking, uh,” he leaned in a little closer, “What was that all about? Why did his demeanor change so much when I showed my Aspect?”

Oro looked at him blankly, a trace of dread in his eyes, regret that he’d asked the Aspected to stay.

“Is this a trick question? Or a joke?”

“No no!” he hurried, “Nothing like that. I’ve been…sheltered, for most of my life, and this whole Aspected thing is new to me. I still don’t understand the nuances of it, especially the social implications.”

Oro nodded slowly, but he didn’t look entirely convinced.

“Aspected are uncommon, as I’m sure you understand, so he was intimidated. There simply aren’t aspected of a how do you say…low pedigree, due to the scarcity. Anyone who absorbs a shard is immediately catapulted to a fairly high position in society, especially naval society, and especially if their aspect is useful. Judging from yours, I’d say you’re on the upper end.”

“Okay, that make sense I guess,” he said, nodding his head, “I don’t like it, but I understand why someone might react that way. But why did he react like that? Isn’t he a Noble? I would have thought they’re swimming in shards.”

Oro shrugged. “Some Nobles maybe, but only those at the top, the kinds vying for proper Royalty. He wasn’t lying when he said a shard of that quality would be exceedingly expensive, but even the lowest quality ones still go for exorbitant prices, much more than someone like I could ever afford. Still, he likely has met far more Aspected than the average person due to his upbringing – you, for example, are the first Aspected I’ve ever spoken to.” He explained.

That surprised Wilhelm. He was starting to feel like his own worldview had been warped just as a Nobles might be, by the crew he found himself on. Three Aspected on one crew – none of which that came from the Nobility – all helping and teaching him. It wasn’t the average experience of anyone in the Navy – not even the Nobility, aside perhaps from the top of the top.

“Plus,” Oro gave a sidelong glance to the Rothwell, who was attempting to pretend everything was alright in his group, though he was very obviously shaken. He leaned in closer and spoke low:

“The Rothwell’s are a minor House. Very minor. Without my family living nearby, I would have no idea who they are. It’s common knowledge that they’ve been hemorrhaging money for a long time now, and unless…that” he gave a slight nod towards Taylor, “Turns their family around, I expect that fancy shard he’s receiving will bankrupt them.”

“If they can’t afford it, then why buy such an expensive one?”

“Well, for one they want to project strength to their enemies. If they drop this much money on an expensive shard, the vultures that have been vying for their spot if they drop from the Nobility might be given pause. Assaulting a largely destitute shell of a House is one thing, but attacking one with unknown finances in reserve and a new, powerful Aspected is another thing entirely. Another reason is that it’s a gamble; the better the shard, the more opportunities for glory, success, and wealth. Most Noble Houses were founded by singularly powerful and decorated Aspected, so there’s no reason to believe that a similar Aspected couldn’t keep an already established House afloat, or even propel them from comparative poverty into the higher ranks of Nobility. And that’s not accounting for inner politics within the House itself, which could also heavily influence the decisions made.” The massive man looked sheepish after his explanation.

“At least, that’s my guess. You’d have to ask someone with a better understanding of politics to get a better answer.”

Wilhelm just stared at him for a few moments.

“I think I’ll trust you on this one.” The man had loosened up and was speaking more easily to Wilhelm, which he was glad of.

“So uh,” Oro started awkwardly, “What’s your Aspect?”

“If you’re comfortable sharing.” He quickly added.

Wilhelm waved a hand. “It’s fine, I don’t mind. Fire.” Oro’s eyes widened.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’m still getting used to that kind of reaction. I don’t know how I feel about it yet if I’m being honest. It’s… intimidating, and I worry people will think I’m dangerous or something, a very different reaction than what I used to command. Which is to say, little to no reaction.”

“It’s not that,” Oro said, “It’s just that the Aspect of Fire has been missing, so I was surprised to hear you found a shard from it. I had my suspicions after your display, but I figured it was from a different, fire-adjacent Aspect.”

“Wait, it’s missing?” Wilhelm said with alarm, “That sounds bad. Aspects are like gods, aren’t they? One going missing seems bad. Very bad.”

Oro looked at him quizzically. “I didn’t take you for a Naturalist, but no, it’s not a big deal. Aspects go missing all the time; there are simply too many of them, and they operate outside of our understanding. Whether that means they’re greater than us or primal, I don’t really have an opinion.” He added the ending delicately, like he didn’t want to offend.

“I don’t know what a Naturalist is, but still, the Aspect of fire? That seems dangerous to just have…sitting around somewhere.”

Oro coughed into his hand. “I admit, the primordial Aspects tend to be more sedentary in their nomadic tendencies, but it happens sometimes. It hasn’t been seen in a decade or so, but some Aspects go missing for centuries or more before reappearing, or being discovered somewhere. The Aspect of Mice once fell into a massive grain mill and spent the next few decades basking in it while it got refilled time and time again. It was only found because The Aspect of Grain was getting cranky, and there were worries that something was wrong.”

Wilhelm frowned. He wasn’t convinced it was as safe as Oro was describing, but there was little he could do about it other than worry it popped up again without harming a bunch of people. Still, if it was as common an occurrence as Oro said, this world undoubtedly had ways of dealing with it. He hoped.

“And if I could be so bold…” Oro waited for objection – receiving none, he continued,

“You are dangerous. You’re an Aspected, and you should probably get used to that. When you showed you were an Aspected, I was terrified, and the poor Heir over there is still shaking.” He didn’t sound very upset at all that the Heir was afraid.

“But it doesn’t matter that you’re bound to the Aspect of Fire. Aspected are all terrifying, regardless of shard. All are powerful, all are stronger than us normal folk. I assume you’re new to this, but you should get used to commanding that kind of reaction. In fact, it seems like you kind of are.”

Wilhelm frowned. “What do you mean?”

Oro pointed at one of his arms. The one the snake had been on before.

“Even if you don’t mean to, you’re already using your Aspect to do just what you described: intimidate. The Heir was being…difficult, and to put him in line you flashed your authority, so to say.” Oro explained this calmly, entirely unbothered by what he was describing.

Wilhelm was not so casual, and now felt a deep sense of guilt at his actions.

“Oh god. I did do that, didn’t I?” He said. Should he apologize? Taylor was being an asshole, but maybe that was too much.

“Why do you sound like that?” Oro asked with genuine confusion.

“He was being a dickhead,” Oro gaped at his word choice, “But he might not have deserved all that. Using my Aspect like that is stooping to his level; I’m no better than he for doing so.” Wilhelm slumped in his seat.

“No, you’re not. Taylor used his Authority to try and pressure me into joining his crew, probably for a weird in-joke between him and his friends, whereas you used yours to get him off my back and put him back in line. You both have power, but you used yours for – in my biased opinion – good, whereas he used his for…well, not evil, but…what you said earlier.”

Wilhelm gestured to the rest of the people in the room.

“And what about all of them? Now most of them are afraid of me because of my little display. I don’t regret helping you, but maybe there was a way to do it without flashing my Aspect.”

“They should be afraid of you.” Oro said, “You could light any of us on fire at a moments notice, and have us turned into a pile of ashes before we could fight back.”

He frowned. “I don’t like that. I don’t want them to be afraid of me just because I’ve got this foreign object kicking around in my soul.”

Oro shook his head. “I don’t think you understand. Maybe they don’t need to be afraid of you, as in, you you, but they do need to be afraid of the ‘you’ that you represent.” He paused.

“In simpler words, you might not be dangerous, but other Aspected aren’t so kindhearted. There are some who might have turned Taylor to paste, or killed me for not immediately joining his crew, seeing it as a breach of some social code.” Wilhelm’s frown deepened.

“The reaction they have to you might be unnecessary, but it could keep them alive if they run into an Aspected with a worse temper. Plus, most of us here have never even met an Aspected, let alone one with a shard like fire.”

He scowled. “I still don’t like it. Why are those Aspected like that? It’s so easy to not be shitty, and yet they go out of their way to be shitty anyway.”

“Who knows,” Oro shrugged, “Maybe power corrupts, or maybe ahem, ‘shitty’ people have power more often. You aren’t alone in wanting answers to these questions, you know. People have been kicking them around in their heads for, I don’t know, millennia?”

“By the way, what’s your name?” Oro asked.

“Wilhelm Fisher.” He wasn’t happy with what he had been told, but the Sedi man was growing on him.

“Wilhelm Fisher. Huh, your parents must be foreign.”

He laughed. “Well, something like that.”