Many people don't know this about me, but I wish, quite desperately, to live the life of a sea-faring pirate, giving up my path for a random wind-chosen destination.
Given that I don't have the sailing ability, nor the survival instinct, to live on an open sea with a crew of my own ruffians, I've decided to live this life vicariously through my own writing.
However, as it is, I have not written a single pirate-y adventure. So, without further ado, I give you the preface of: "Captain Guile".
Although Captain Guile couldn't be considered a stranger to the Glass Sea, there still was no hope for preparation on that dead ocean. No matter what tools or provisions you've provided your crew with, and regardless of their ability or comradery, the wind will always be the greatest asset a pirate, nay, a man of the sea can ask for.
Without it, the helm, the sails, the deck, the bridge, the ship itself means nothing.
The Glass Sea made this fear a reality to all who crossed it. It would seize whatever wild men attempted to cross its glassy waters, and whether it be thirst, starvation, or madness held no issue. It had driven the most noble of pirates (however noble that may be) to acts of unspeakable mutiny, even so among pirates.
Rowing was out of the question, as it would stir up monstrous thirst and hunger, as well as catalyzing sun madness. Surely, even an unskilled crew would take a maelstrom over a windless sea.
The Captain knew this best of all.
With his weathered eyes shut, he breathed deep, almost trying to pull in the wind itself. He knew his hand meant nothing against the helm, but there he was in control.
"Mr. Saul," he called to the deck.
"Captain," the first mate answered.
"What say you?" the Captain asked.
"Captain?" Saul asked, confused.
"To cross the Glass Sea once more," the Captain started, hand smooth on the helm, "the choice of fools, was it?"
"As always is, Captain. Only problem is, you got more fools to follow you."
Though he didn't smile, Captain Guile felt at ease again, grasping the helm, "Aye."