“Look, on the horizon! I see land! May the gods have mercy on us all!” The soldiers began to cry, the land of Equestria slowly appearing from the distance. The weather had been kind to them, the gods favoring their travel for there was neither storm nor any complications. Spirits were high and their goal seemed to draw even nearer by the second. Cheers went out amongst the crew which were quickly silenced by the whips of the Bosun.

They scuttled back to their oars, heaving away a good pace. From the ranks one even began to sing. This was soon followed by a few others, and before you knew it the entire boat was alight with song. The Bosun was ready to bring his whip to bear on the idiotic crew but Azzal stayed his hoof.

“Leave them be for now. They have more than earned the right to make merry!”

The crew let out a small cheer at his words, the song starting again, only this time with more of a beat. The speed of the rowing increased, the other ships putting in more effort to keep up with them.

Sing hey! For the bath at close of day

That washes the weary mud away!

A loon is he that will not sing:

O! Water Hot is a noble thing!

O! Sweet is the sound of falling rain,

and the brook that leaps from hill to plain;

but better than rain or rippling streams

is Water Hot that smokes and steams.

O! Water cold we may pour at need

down a thirsty throat and be glad indeed;

but better is Beer, if drink we lack,

and Water Hot poured down the back.

O! Water is fair that leaps on high

in a fountain white beneath the sky;

but never did fountain sound so sweet

as splashing Hot Water with my feet!

They laughed merrily before they returned to rowing as usual. All thoughts of war were forgotten as they enjoyed their small moment reprieve. The Bosun had set down his bone whip and began to talk among the crew, Azzal chuckling at his change of demeanor.

Sil Ran did not go blind to the crew’s enthusiasm. From his cabin he had watched and he had listened, his paranoia getting the best of him once again. Any leader would be glad to see his soldiers in a merry mood, but Sil Ran began focused his fear on Azzal. Confined to the space of his cabin and separating himself from his crew, the captain had grown more and more anxious. What if before his troops betrayed him his generals turned on him, what if Azzal was the first? He saw how he interacted with the crew; soon they would turn on Sil Ran and follow Khan instead. Those traitorous dogs.

Azzal on the other hand felt contempt to watch as the soldiers conversed with one another, the main topic seemingly the new land they were swiftly approaching. Indeed it had been long since Azzal had last set hoof in Equestria, back when he was a younger stallion. He extended one of his wings as he looked at one of his many scars hidden behind the joint. That one he had acquired as he was fleeing the Royal Guard after his small ransacking of the Archives. Though the phrase is used often, it was quite a long story.

“Azzal!” One of the crew members beckoned him over to their group as they talked, the adviser accepting his offer and taking a seat next to them while they continued rowing. “Some of the crew have been saying things, things about you, and other things about Sil Ran.”

“What kind of things? Rumors, tales? Speak quickly.”

The brown stallion in question looked at the ponies to either side of him before speaking again. “They say you've been here before, that you've traveled to Equestria and returned to tell the tale. They also said you spent a week in the Everfree Forest, fighting off wild animals before you found our way out.”

Azzal let out a light chuckle at the remark. “Amusing, is that what they say about me? I will leave details to your own speculation, but I will say this. Indeed I once wandered those lands long ago and returned to the East. They showed me little hospitality but it has given me the opportunity to learn a thing or two.”

“If I may ask sir, why has Lord Sil Ran confined himself to the cabin? Does he fear the sunlight or does he just not like the company?” A few of the others let out a small chuckle.

“I cannot say for sure, but he is a tired lord and he grows scarred of the battle to come. Maybe he fears death of the possibility of defeat. We may never know, but he is sick in the mind.”

Nervous glances were traded amongst those that listened. “Is that true? I mean, is Sil Ran still able to  lead us to battle? None of us are too thrilled to be rushing into a fight, but it would be a comfort to know that you can trust those who are sending you there in the first place.”

“We shall see soon enough. But keep an eye on the Lord and let the others know I've what I have said. It would be best to hear it from a fellow soldier rather than an untrustworthy adviser.”

“Yes sir. Maybe it is for the best.” What merriment was in their voice had now faded to a gloomy tone. Soon word of Sil Ran would be passed through each of the crew on the vessel, spoken only in whispers.

The Bosun inquired to Azzal over the sudden change in mood. “What’s got them all gloomy? It wasn't twenty minutes ago they were singing lie it was Moon Season.”

“They worry about Sil Ran, and rightly so. I will speak no more of it for now, there is enough gloom in the air as it is.”

“Right. Seems awfully odd, I always thought he was a rather bulky ‘in your face’ kind of stallion. But if he’s worried about the losing, then what does that mean for us?”

“It means he may not be fit for the job.”

Next Chapter: Hard Ale and Good Stories Estimated time remaining: 2 Hours, 30 Minutes