AUTHOR'S NOTES: While not a completely wordless voyage, this chapter was fun to write because there was a challenge of writing Petra's interactions with the people on the ship that took her to Enbarr, because they don't understand her language and she doesn't understand theirs. Otherwise, this is sort of a precedent for how Petra acts: she is curious, clever, and light on her feet, and willing to work hard for what she wants. These tricks and more serve her quite well in the future.
Happy Reading!

PART ONE: GREY SKIES

CHAPTER 002: A WORDLESS VOYAGE

=The Seas between Enbarr and Brigid, 14th of Verdant Rain Moon, Imperial Year 1175…=

The voyage to Fódlan itself was not too problematic apart from the context she was making said voyage in. The ship and its passengers and crew were not nearly as lively and colorful as the ones from home, but young Petra quickly found herself grappling with another issue that she had not considered before: No one on board seemed to know what she was saying, and she could not understand them in turn.

Petra first tried to ask around about the man who had spoken to her back on Brigid about her future in Enbarr, but whether it was her inability to describe him or the people she asked simply not knowing what she was saying or who she was talking about, Petra was not certain. A few people suggested he was on one of the other ships, gesturing out to the sea where one of the other two vessels was sailing alongside them a few hundred meters off, but even if that was the case, that meant he could not help her. Her grandmother and grandfather could not help her—she was alone, surrounded by people who could just as easily talk about her right in front of her without her knowing what was being said. She did not fear bullying or harassment, but she did not trust these people to show her any type of kindness either.

Petra was not a shy little girl, but any time she stepped out of her cabin, whether to eat or to simply take in some fresh air, she felt out of place. There were no other children on board, there were no Brigidi people here, and no one could speak her language, nor could she speak theirs. She did not belong here. She knew she did not belong here, and she knew that everyone on that ship also knew she did not belong here. This was all still so very wrong.

Any time she made eye contact with someone, they shot her a weird look. Some thought she was intriguing, others found her curious, while still others looked at her with disgust, as if she was some sort of stain upon the Adrestian vessel that she had no desire to be on. She didn't need to know what they were saying to know that she was "that weird little foreign girl." She had seen the contempt in the eyes of the Adrestian visitors that had tainted Brigid's soil when they had stolen her from her home. Many of these men had had a visible disdain for her and her people even when they stood on Brigidi soil.

The first thing she was going to have to do in Fódlan was find herself a teacher—someone that could teach her how to speak this confounded language so she didn't have to stumble around trying to communicate, or so that she didn't have to spend all of her time wondering what people were saying about her to her face.

However, in lieu of any books on the ship apart from the occasional mage's tome or officers' logs, Petra found herself restless from being bored. There were no trees to climb, no beaches to swim at, no friends to play with, no one from home she could talk to, or any of her other old favorite pastimes, and so the only option left was to explore—and to not get caught. Petra got enough stink-eyed looks from people, but at the same time, she could literally not understand being warned about where she could or couldn't go.

A few times, she learned by being physically removed from certain rooms. Other times she was chased out, but most of the time, her existence was basically just ignored. They knew she was unarmed and did not consider her a threat, and did not imagine Petra knew how to read Fódlanese if she couldn't even speak it, so within a few days at most, the Brigidi youngster was little more than a slight but necessary annoyance.

Apart from her room where she could be alone from the hostile judging eyes of her captors, Petra's favourite place on the ship was either up in the rigging or tucked away in the crow's nest. The few sailors put on watch duty generally put up with her, since she was quiet and stayed out of the way, but clearly enjoyed the view—and the climb. She became friends with an old grizzled fellow who always invited her up when he was on duty, although he was reprimanded for this at one point as Petra stayed to listen. She couldn't understand anything that was being said, but it was clear they were talking about her.

"Captain Renack," the grizzled old salt retorted, "if the kid was stoppin' me from doin' what you've told me to do, I woulda tossed her overboard."

"And then you would have been thrown in after her, Dirge—she's an asset, not an enemy."

"The point is, Cap'n, I've been on the seas long enough that a restless kid mindin' her own business up in the nest with me ain't gonna be a bother. Think of it this way—if she's doin' her thing up with me, then she's not poking her nose around the rest of the boat and gettin' into things you don't want her gettin' into! The kid can't be older than 9 or 10 anyways; you can't really expect her not to get restless."

"If you're so adamant about it, you keep an eye on her," the captain scoffed, "and if anything happens to her before she reaches Enbarr, you'll pay in blood."

"Always so dire," Dirge snorted in amusement, "don't mind me, I'll keep an eye on her if she joins me during the rest of my duties I swear as a sailor!"

"Don't disappoint me," Captain Renack grunted.

"Well, obviously if she runs off and does her own thing, I doubt you want me leaving my post," Dirge retorted, "but aye, if she's in my view I'll keep her out of trouble. That's a promise."

"I'll hold you to it." Renack warned, before he turned and walked off.

"I'd shrug and say what a relief it is that he's gone," Dirge lowered his voice as he looked down at Petra, "but based on your wide-eyed expression you don't have a clue what any of us are saying, do you?"

There was a pause, and Petra's vacant, wide-eyed stare answered the question even before her little shrug and accompanying "huh?" a moment later.

"Dirge." he offered his hand, and to his slight surprise, the youngster took it.

"Petra." A name was not something that was hindered by language barriers, much to her relief.

"A fine name for a fine lass," Dirge nodded, before realizing it had likely gone over Petra's head. "Hmm…" he pointed at her, raised a bottle from his other hand and pointed at it, and then pointed down to where Petra knew the food and supplies were kept.

"Huh?" Petra looked up at the bottle, pointing at it, before putting a hand to her chest.

"Whiskey." Dirge explained, pointing at her with a nod.

"Whis…key…" Petra let the word roll off her lips, before gesturing at herself and pointing in the same direction that Dirge had pointed.

"Aye," Dirge decided to take his chances. If he could convey a nonverbal method of having this kid bring him extra booze on the down-low, he would be a happy sailor. "Sneak…" he imitated a quiet sneaky stance, and in an instant knew he had taught Petra a new word because she grinned excitedly up at him.

"Sneak!" she beamed, imitating his pose except with much more finesse. "Aye!"

One of Petra's other favorite games on the ship was a wordless game of cat and mouse. She loved to explore the nooks and crannies of the ship in lieu of having anything else to do with her time, and her goal was to not be seen—it would hone her skills as a hunter, and it would keep her out of trouble from these dour-faced Fódlanese sailors.

Dirge was half dozing off back in the crow's nest when he was suddenly roused from his half-slumber by a small child repeatedly poking him.

"Dirge." Petra spoke his name. His eyes came into focus and noticed that in Petra's other hand was a bottle that matched the one he had had earlier.

"Blimey, Petra, you actually did it!" Dirge beamed, before realizing it was opened. Petra looked up at him, handed the bottle out and turned her head away, wincing and making gagging noises.

"By the salty beard of Shanty Pete, you didn't actually try some of this, did you, kid?" Dirge cursed his fortune at having to constantly remind himself that Petra did not know anything that he was telling her, and so he sighed. He gestured to himself and the bottle, nodded, and then pointed at her and then the bottle, shaking his head.

"Mm-mm." Petra shook her head, waving her hands as if to keep it away from her.

"Ya did good, lass." Dirge muttered under her breath as he ruffled her hair. To his amusement, Dirge heard someone yelling something about wanting to know who had vomited in the mess hall, but by this time Petra had dozed off, and Dirge laid low. He connected the dots, but laid low. No one would suspect them—and no one did.

Petra was confused as to why the voyage was taking so long, and this was not helped by the fact that no one could answer her, and that she could not read any of the text of the map to see where Enbarr was in relation to Brigid. There was a part of Fódlan that looked to be a stone's throw away from the eastern end of the Brigid Archipelago, but from her understanding, the invasion points were to the north of that, while the heart of the empire was to the east. This was not enough for her to go off of though, and as much as she enjoyed the sea, it was not the same when she couldn't swim in it, couldn't fish in it, and had no one she could talk to as the waves lapped their feet.

Still, Dirge turned out to be useful company, and she decided to see if she could bribe him for more information, and so off she went into the storeroom to get him another drink. It was another game of cat and mouse as usual—until it wasn't.

Petra heard footsteps, and soon found herself trapped in the room by a man blocking the way out and another that began combing the room.

"I thought I heard something," a large male voice grunted, "and Cap'n Renack is gettin' sick of whoever's raidin' his whiskey stash."

Petra only recognized one word from that sentence, but she had a feeling that presenting this fellow with a bottle of whiskey was not going to do her any favors or win the Captain's approval. She recognized the name Renack too, and that was a man that she did not want to tangle with. Her stealth skills would be put to the test today.

"I can hear you scurryin' around here!" the sailor shouted, but whether that was a bluff or if he actually meant it, Petra was too fast and too quiet to be spotted; her bare feet completely silent against the wooden surfaces of the ship. The moment he stepped in, Petra scurried out so swiftly that her hunter barely realized what had happened.

"Hey! There you are!" but by the time he had spun around to try and catch his culprit, Petra had disappeared behind another crate, and zigzagged away down the hall.

"Blimey, you were gone a hot minute, kid," Dirge mused as Petra scaled the mast and slumped down comfortably in the crow's nest with the one person she tolerated on this ship.

"Whiskey." She brandished a bottle from her clothes with a proud grin. Dirge put his palm to his forehead but then laughed. He stopped laughing a few moments later when he heard Captain Renack shouting his name.

"Hang tight, little buddy." he patted Petra's head, and she laid low for a moment as Dirge descended from the crow's nest.

"What is it, captain?" he asked, "there's nothing to report on the horizon or you'd have been one of the first to know, let me assure you."

"You reek of whiskey, sailor." Renack was not amused. "Why?"

"A sailor had a drink?" Dirge laughed. "With all due respect, Cap'n, if ya get this close to anyone here except maybe that prude you call a navigator, you're gonna smell some kind of swill, y'know? Are you accusing me of stealing your whiskey stores?"

"You smell like mine," Renack warned.

"As much as I'd love one, do you really think I have the stealth and finesse to sneak in and out without gettin' caught? I'd blunder in and knock half the racks down."

"Where's that Brigid brat?" Renack demanded.

"Oy, Petra" Dirge took a gamble, watching as the top half of Petra's little head poked out from the wall of the crow's nest. He gestured for her to come down, and Petra descended with surprising grace and finesse, landing soundlessly on her feet and curling her toes for a moment.

"Just so you know, Cap'n," Dirge continued, "she don't understand a word we're saying… she's only just learned my name and probably knows you as "captain".

"We'll see about that." Renack was convinced Petra was in on this crime. However, no matter what he said to her, Petra looked as confused as ever.

"Dirge." she replied when the captain pointed at her friend. "Petra," she gestured at herself, and then at Renack. "Cap-tin!" Her eyes widened slightly when the captain pulled out a whiskey bottle, but it seemed the plucky youngster was cleverer than Renack gave her credit for.

"Huh?" she tilted her head, her confused expression completely convincing.

"I know it's her," Renack looked Dirge in the eyes, "no one else is that stealthy, and aye, I noticed that her footsteps were silent. Either get that girl a pair of heavy boots or… blight it, just stop taking my damn whiskey."

"If I see any more of it turn up, I'll hand it in immediately." Dirge lied through his teeth with a sailor smile, "you've my word as a sailor."

One's word as a sailor almost assured dishonesty, however, but whether via good fortune or Captain Renack simply having a rough enough day to not press the issue, he departed.

"Brilliant," Dirge smirked after he and Petra had retreated to the crow's nest again, "here, kid, this is for you…"

Petra didn't react as Dirge rummaged through his bag, but her eyes lit up as the old salt pulled out a few chunks of dried meat. Petra sunk her teeth into them immediately, nodding happily with her approval. Dirge leaned back and sighed, knowing that according to his calculations of how many days and nights had passed since they embarked, that they were only about a day and a half out by this point.

"I'm gonna miss that little bugger." he mumbled to himself. Petra's cleverness was not something lost on him, and while he wasn't about to argue her case to the captain or crew, much less any of the influential nobles who had made this whole arrangement, he had a solid respect for Petra Macneary, and figured that if the little princess could win a grizzled old heart like his, that she would have little difficulty making friends in Adrestia. He did hope that she could learn how to speak the language soon though—that would work harshly against her if she struggled on that front.

True to Dirge's predictions, a day later, early in the morning, they neared land, although it was half a day's trip up a mighty river to the port of Enbarr. Once there was land in view however, Petra was restless and looking in every direction as if wordlessly evaluating the landscape around her. This land was to be her new home, and it saddened her to see far fewer trees, and to see the beaches shrink behind them as they went farther inland. She would miss the ocean dearly, and while Brigid had no shortage of rain, the grey skies that hung over Fódlan seemed much less welcoming than the grey skies that preceded a Brigidi rainstorm.

By late afternoon however, they had docked, and Petra knew that this had to be Enbarr. The large and imposing buildings stretched for miles and it was almost overwhelming to see so much grey, especially with an overcast sky.

It would be here that Petra's new life began. It would be here that she worked relentlessly to free her people from their servitude to this empire. It would be here that she would need to hone her skills and intellect if she wanted to stand a chance of doing these things at all.

"For Brigid…" she took a deep breath as she packed her things. "I find strength to carry on."

AFTERTHOUGHTS: This is not the last time Petra will cross paths with Dirge... or Captain Renack.