Japan in Alagaësia

The Foreigners

The Foreigners

The 6th day of the 8th month, 7999 A.C.

Being naturally inquisitive about the world as he was, Jeod was familiar with a great number of ship designs; including every craft that had plied the waters around Teirm in the last ten years. Yet, as he stood on the wharf, overlooking the flat horizon, alongside numerous other spectators and even a few guards, he understood why Rolf had called the ship "unusual".

The ship was large, as large as any seafaring vessel in the Empire, with two towering masts and another, shorter mast near the stern; only the mighty three-masters directly under the king's core forces could boast a greater size. Like all ships, it was slightly curved, yet its hull looked remarkably flat and smooth. But unlike the familiar shapes of the clinker-built construction, this one was distinct from anything he'd ever seen. The ship was seamless, sleek as if lacquered, and it seemed to cut through the water with an uncanny grace. But the most striking feature were the sails. Instead of the familiar billowing canvas, these were rigid rectangles, and they had a slight orange hue to them. Atop the forecastle, a white banner fluttered, bearing the symbol of a large red circle. Is this one of the Empire's new ship designs? thought Jeod. If so, the Varden should be alerted.

As the ship slowly drifted closer to the planking that was the docks, Jeod squinted his eyes and saw the figures of people aboard the ship. Curious garbs, he thought. Like robes, they covered the wearer from shoulder to legs. But even from this distance of over four hundred feet, Jeod could see that the garments were no robes, as they were more constricted and less airy, and were embroidered with various patterns. Almost like draped nightgowns, Jeod thought, yet somehow more vibrant. In all his life, he had never seen attire like those. It did not fit the description of anything he had ever read in any books or scrolls.

Jeod shifted his gaze, scanning the throng. There, a familiar figure stood apart: Guðbrandr, the grizzled harbormaster. His thick arms were crossed, a scowl etched deep on his weathered face as he shoved his way through the crowd to the wharf's brink. With a weather-beaten hand, he adjusted his fur cap and squinted towards the approaching vessel.

"By Angvard!" exclaimed a man beside Guðbrandr, his voice roughened by years of toil and hardship. "It be a demon ship, come to claim our souls!"

Guðbrandr scoffed.

As the ship closed the distance to the docks and its crew became visible to the eye, Jeod was immediately struck by a few remarkable observations. These people were clean; far cleaner than any sailor out at sea had a right to be. Gone were the usual markers of sweat and grime. Their faces and skin were surprisingly smooth and unmarred for seafarers, as if untouched by the harsh elements. No, Jeod thought, it went further; their appearances were neat and well-kept, of a kind usually bestowed on nobles, wealthy merchants, and others of similar affluence. All of them seemed to be in good health—certainly none of the ones aship were afflicted with scurvy—and they all seemed to be reasonably well-nourished. Impossibly, despite having been at sea, they seemed to be tidier and healthier than the majority of commoners in Teirm!

The men—and there were a few women as well, Jeod noted—all had dark and unfathomably well-groomed hair, with a noticeable lack of facial hair among many of the men. Their eyes, a deep, almost inky black, darted nervously across the crowd. Compared to the populace of Teirm, they were of average height, shorter than the northern seamen, taller than folks of the southlands. A few of them had long, curved objects sheathed in an ornately lacquered scabbard hanging at their hips; their surfaces gleaming a deep, glossy black. Gazing at the ones on the ship standing closest to him, Jeod noted with fascination that their swords seemed to lack guards except for some black circular plate, small in size, but ornately decorated.