Darius had sailed enough times to know that the seas could be treacherous. Ships were a necessary means of travel, but they were not without peril. Many a sailor had boarded a ship, sailed over the horizon, and not survived long enough to make the return trip.
Others had come close, narrowly escaping Vri's firm grasp. Darius had firsthand knowledge of that, having himself been rescued from the consequences of his own foolhardiness as a teenager, and finding an opportunity to return the favour in more recent times.
And yet, he had never seen up close the ailments that struck sailors. He was no physician - the Libertalia had one of its own, and Yeva was a member of the Order of the Adunih - and so he had never had to treat any patients. His preferred approach was to keep his distance and let the experts perform their invaluable work.
As such, he was not privy to the uncontrolled rage that his redheaded Rharnian friend had experienced in the presence of the ship's visitor, nor the physical way in which she had used it to attempt to wake him up.
By the time the cry went up that the survivor was stirring, Darius had begun to think that the fears of a curse were based on nothing. And as he approached the room that served as the ship's infirmary, it seemed that the other sailors' fear of the man had subsided.
Indeed, the very same men who had decried his arrival and given him a wide berth were now clambering over one another to get as close to him as possible. It was a curiosity that was explained as soon as he entered the room and heard the patient weaving his tale.
Darius was not easily prone to believing such stories, but as he looked around the room and saw the expressions on some of the sailors - sailors who had spent more arcs at sea than he ever had - he began to wonder if he should be taking Garen's words seriously. What had initially been dismissed as the ramblings of a delirious man were now being considered as possibly real - and, by the looks of some of the crew, an opportunity.
Turning to see who else was in the room, Darius found himself looking for Yeva, his father Josef, and Astra - and, indeed, the doctor - in an attempt to gauge what they made of the man's story. But he turned back to the man, brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of what had been said.
"Tell me, Garen," Darius said, deliberately not introducing himself as captain lest he unwittingly make himself a target of Chrien - some superstitions were harder to shake than others - and stepping closer to the man. "Where did your ship meet its doom?"
Caution guided his words, for he could not know if Garen actually knew where he was. And after his first question, the captain asked a second.
"And when?"
Others had come close, narrowly escaping Vri's firm grasp. Darius had firsthand knowledge of that, having himself been rescued from the consequences of his own foolhardiness as a teenager, and finding an opportunity to return the favour in more recent times.
And yet, he had never seen up close the ailments that struck sailors. He was no physician - the Libertalia had one of its own, and Yeva was a member of the Order of the Adunih - and so he had never had to treat any patients. His preferred approach was to keep his distance and let the experts perform their invaluable work.
As such, he was not privy to the uncontrolled rage that his redheaded Rharnian friend had experienced in the presence of the ship's visitor, nor the physical way in which she had used it to attempt to wake him up.
By the time the cry went up that the survivor was stirring, Darius had begun to think that the fears of a curse were based on nothing. And as he approached the room that served as the ship's infirmary, it seemed that the other sailors' fear of the man had subsided.
Indeed, the very same men who had decried his arrival and given him a wide berth were now clambering over one another to get as close to him as possible. It was a curiosity that was explained as soon as he entered the room and heard the patient weaving his tale.
Darius was not easily prone to believing such stories, but as he looked around the room and saw the expressions on some of the sailors - sailors who had spent more arcs at sea than he ever had - he began to wonder if he should be taking Garen's words seriously. What had initially been dismissed as the ramblings of a delirious man were now being considered as possibly real - and, by the looks of some of the crew, an opportunity.
Turning to see who else was in the room, Darius found himself looking for Yeva, his father Josef, and Astra - and, indeed, the doctor - in an attempt to gauge what they made of the man's story. But he turned back to the man, brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of what had been said.
"Tell me, Garen," Darius said, deliberately not introducing himself as captain lest he unwittingly make himself a target of Chrien - some superstitions were harder to shake than others - and stepping closer to the man. "Where did your ship meet its doom?"
Caution guided his words, for he could not know if Garen actually knew where he was. And after his first question, the captain asked a second.
"And when?"
