Life Unfamiliar: Survival on a New World 3 (Patreon)

Merchant Captain Mumesh stared at the stranger as he came on board, his eyes narrowed. The man had clearly been marooned for some time, but despite that, he had a greater number of Asyeng Artifacts than anywhere outside the Holy City of Ishozo. Such a curious puzzle he represented. Especially since the men said he didn't speak Obzes, the dominant trade language.

He had apparently befriended a Lavender Ako, which surprised Mumesh, as he didn’t think there were any this far out. Mumesh approached the stranger, still eyeing him suspiciously. The man looked ragged, with matted hair and tattered clothes, yet there was an air of confidence about him. Mumesh cleared his throat and spoke slowly, unsure if the man could understand him.

“Hello, stranger. My name is Mumesh. Can you understand me?”

The man looked up, his eyes meeting Mumesh's. He had an uncomprehending look on his face, dashing Mumesh's hopes. But the man placed a hand on his chest and said, carefully enunciating his words, “James.”

Well Mumesh hadn't had high hopes, placing a hand on his own chest, he gave his name and tried a different tongue, “Kaú ye ashkì?”

“Ungelic tunge herespel ne midhelp,” the man, James, said, making Mumesh’s eyes widen in surprise.

While Mumesh didn’t know the Old Tongue himself, he’d heard it enough from his brother when he’d been studying to be admitted to the University of Daisdos. How fortunate for this James that their ship had been heading to the city anyway.

“Come, come!” Mumesh said, wrapping an arm around the shorter man's shoulders and leading him towards his cabin. Even so, he continued to keep an eye on James, making a myriad of observations as he did.

While short, his body was incredibly toned. The sort of build that a member of the Warrior Caste would be proud of. Yet his hands lacked the callouses that would be found on even a young warrior. Perhaps a member of the Drak-Riders? Build aside, his clothes were of an incredibly curious cut, unlike anything that Mumesh had seen before. Entering the cabin, Mumesh glanced up at his slaves, their gold collars on proud display.

“This man has been marooned for an unknown time, see him bathed and dressed in clean clothes,” Mumesh ordered, both girls standing from the tomes they'd been reading. “Once you have finished, see if any of the languages you know are ones that he understands. I have already tried Obzes and Syau. Let him look at the different texts we have as well.”

“Yes Captain,” Dorgene said with a bow while her sister, Khojin, approached James and led him by the arm to the washtub.

As the girls began to clean James, Mumesh paced back and forth in his cabin, deep in thought. His instincts told him that James was hiding something. He had seen many marooned men in his time as a merchant captain, but none of them had such a collection of Asyeng Artifacts.

Mumesh had always been fascinated by the Asyeng culture and their artifacts. They were said to be imbued with magical powers, and he had heard stories of men who had been ruined by them. But James seemed to have no such fear. He wore them as if they were mere trinkets.

When the girls finished cleaning James, he emerged from the washroom dressed in one of Mumesh's own robes, the shorter man practically swimming in them, his wet hair slicked back from his face. He looked like a different man altogether, with an air of confidence that was not there before.

Mumesh motioned for him to sit at the small table he kept in his cabin, and James obliged, his eyes scanning the room, taking in the many texts and artifacts that adorned the shelves.

Mumesh poured them both a cup of tea and sat down across from James. Mumesh picked up a book and handed it to James. "Can you read this?" he asked.

James took the book and turned the pages, examining the text. He shook his head, indicating that he couldn't read it. Mumesh sighed inwardly. It seemed like language was a big barrier in communicating with James. He took the book back and placed it on the table. He had hoped to get some answers from his guest, but it seemed that would have to wait until he could learn more of his language.

But then an idea sparked in Mumesh's mind. He picked up a piece of parchment and a quill and drew a crude map of the surrounding area. He pointed to the map and then pointed to James, indicating that he wanted James to tell him where he came from.

James looked at the map, then shrugged. Mumesh frowned, his keen mind churning and bubbling as he made note of this new element of his mysterious guest. No common tongue, no common written dialect, and no recognition of the region. Curious, very curious.

There must be something else Mumesh could do to get James to open up. As he considered this, an idea came to him—an idea that he had been considering for some time now but had not yet acted upon. It was risky, but it might be the only way to get James to talk—to reveal what secrets he held within him.

Mumesh stood and walked over to one of the many artifacts that hung on the wall in his cabin. It was a mask, fashioned from an adamantine metal and easily the most valuable artifact that Mumesh owned. Unlike the war masks favored by the Warrior Caste or the protective ones worn by the Drak-Riders, this one left the eyes and mouth free. It settled around the ears, and swept down to over the throat, a tiny grid on the front, situated in the middle of the throat. While not the rarest of Asyeng Artifacts, it had still cost a decent amount of coin, but with how far Mumesh took his fleet, the Asyeng Collar of Tongues had more than proven its worth.

To Mumesh's surprise, James seemed to recognize it, more than that, he easily donned it, as if he had used one a thousand times before. He even knew where the glyph to activate the artifact was, something that Mumesh still had trouble finding at times.

Mumesh couldn't believe it. How could James, a marooned man with no apparent connection to Asyeng culture, know how to use one of their most prized artifacts? Still, James began to speak. His voice was clear and confident, and he spoke in the Old Tongue. But with the aid of the Asyeng Collar of Tongues, Mumesh could understand every word.

James told a tale of adventure and danger, of a journey across a sea of stars, of an attack by demonic raiders, wielding blasting staves, of escaping in an enchanted sleep, until he arrived on a nameless island in the middle of the Jade Sea. Mumesh listened in rapt attention, his mind whirling with the possibilities that lay ahead.

It was a fantastic tale, to be sure, but Mumesh couldn't help but wonder if it was true. He had heard many stories in his time as a merchant captain, and not all of them had been true.

But there was something about James that made Mumesh believe that this story might be different. Perhaps it was the way he had donned the mask, as if he knew exactly what it was and how to use it. Or maybe it was the way he had spoken, with such conviction and detail.

Mumesh decided then and there that he would help James in any way he could. He could see that James was a man of importance, one with secrets that could change the fate of the world. Mumesh had always been a risk taker, and he knew that if he played his cards right, he could profit greatly from helping James.

But first, he needed more information. Mumesh leaned forward, his eyes locked on James. “Tell me, how did you come to possess these Asyeng artifacts?”

James leaned back in his chair, his face inscrutable. “They have been with me since the beginning of my journey,” he said cryptically.

Mumesh frowned. He could tell that James was holding back something, but he knew better than to push too hard. He would have to earn James' trust in order to get him to reveal all.

But for now, Mumesh was content to bide his time. He had a guest unlike any other, and he couldn't wait to see where this journey would lead them both. As the evening drew near, Mumesh ordered his servants to prepare a feast, in honor of their guest who had brought such a riveting tale. As they dined, Mumesh and James spoke in hushed tones, their conversation punctuated by long pauses as they ate.

As they finished their meal, Mumesh stood and gestured for James to follow him. They walked out to the deck, looking out across the calm waters of the Jade Sea.

Mumesh turned to James, his eyes intense. “I want to help you, James,” he said. “I can see that you are a man of great importance, and I want to be a part of your journey.”

James looked at Mumesh, his expression unreadable. “Why?” he asked.

Mumesh smiled. “Because I believe in you. Because I can see that you are destined for great things. And because I want to be by your side, to help you achieve those things.”

For a long moment, James said nothing. But then he nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “I think you are overestimating my importance, but thank you all the same, Mumesh,” he said softly.

Mumesh grinned. “Don't thank me yet. The journey ahead will be fraught with danger and adventure. But I promise you, it will be worth it.”

[hr][/hr]

I settled into the hammock I’d been provided, Lilac curled up asleep on my chest. My gaze stared up at the ceiling above me, parsing the short exposure I’d had with the people on the ship. The language wasn’t one I’d ever heard of, unsurprisingly, but to my surprise the captain, Mumesh, had an ACNG Universal Translator.

Fortunately, they could hold nearly a hundred languages with enough exposure, and English was still somewhere in its datafiles. It was a relief to finally be able to communicate with someone after being stranded alone on the island. I had told Mumesh my story, or at least as much of it as I was willing to share. He seemed genuinely interested and eager to help me, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye.

As I lay there, the gentle rocking of the ship lulling me to sleep, I couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead. Mumesh had promised me adventure and danger, but he had also promised that it would be worth it. I had no idea what he meant by that, and I wasn't some hero out of a story, I was a researcher! I didn't even have the chance to finish my xenobiology degree, yet he seemed to think I was a cliche hero?

With a small sigh, I forced that thought out of my mind, instead turning my focus onto the food and the cultural elements I'd seen. The girls had been… surprisingly thorough, enough so that I could feel my face beginning to flush at the memory. But despite that they’d also been professional, for want of a better word. They were dressed quite modestly, the only skin shown being their hands, feet, and most of their necks.

They’d been wearing gold chokers, the kind that had been popular among the more goth inclined students I’d seen at university, and veils over their faces. Everything else had been covered with poofy, billowing shirts and pants, a cloth wrap/belt over their midriffs.

The small amount of food I’d been exposed to, outside of the short bit of hunting that several of the crew had done, seemed like hardtack, but were purple and had an almost potato-like flavor to them. That I had mostly tried out of curiosity, before the crew stuck a bunch in a pot along with the land lobsters and the reef reptile I’d found the other day. It seemed to act as a thickener, and the potato flavor didn’t go away, making me think that they were basically a potato-version of hardtack.