Vignette:A far journey

he barrels creak as they are rolled onboard. Most are without their lids, since the freezing temperatures have solidified the liquid contents. Zusilau is checking off the various barrels on the purchase list.

He had been at the seas for nearly a decade now. His homelands of Bonamech had collapsed into chaos. War, banditry, murder. He had travelled south, and managed to enlist as a sailor aboard a ship in the harbour of Zalpristis. From then on, he had worked hard. Scrubbing the deck, fastening the ropes, carrying cargo; until he fell in favour of the captain. During a storm, Zusilau managed to save the old mans life by pushing aside cargo fallen loose which had thundered towards him. Thus he now did administration of the cargo.

Often it was lonely on the ship. Plenty of men to talk to, but none in his native tongue. Closest he is to the two Veikian midshipsmen, since he at least can converse about Alitheism with them. He just missed home really. He wonders how his younger brother Nikolaos is doing, the rascal. Or how the twins had grown up. What became of Sergey, Isliva, Valenka, Vladis, or little Dobro?

"Suwsilo! The cargo!"

He jerked up; he had not been paying attention to the loading in front of him. The captain looked annoyed at him from across the deck.

"Sorry!" shouted Zusilau back, and he quickly asked the seamen what they had carried onto deck.

6 barrels of frozen wine, 3 barrels of fresh water, and a large crate of Curgov linen. Not too much he had missed. As he marked further cargo loaded, he can't help but let his mind drift off again. He thinks about the Curgov shaman who had predicted it was going to be a very cold winter this year; not a far reach with the current weather. Zusilau tries not to hold to much value to such ancient practices. Yet he felt at unease.

He just wishes to return home someday, or whatever there is left of it.