The Astrologer

The soft crackling of sand was the only sound that accompanied the helmsman, left alone after the crew sought refuge below deck. Amidst the solitude, only the dwarf stood at the helm, his thoughts wandering across the horizon. Responsibility for the night's events would fall squarely on his shoulders, save for a man and a woman trying to cheat their shipmates with a game of dice.

Their hushed voices were mere whispers to the seasoned veteran, wholly engrossed in steering the ship. His focus was unwavering, like a beekeeper tending to his hive, indifferent to the potential retaliation of its occupants.

The sun had long set, replaced by a host of twinkling stars vying for dominance in the vast canvas of the sky. Though the seasoned helmsman hated to admit it, the night demanded an extra hand on deck. Yet, the young couple’s whispers were of no help.

No cabin boy could advise him on navigation, especially under the cloak of darkness. Bolstered by this belief, he had navigated countless nights alone, only taking a break to witness the sunrise.

However, the captain had recently returned from a shipyard with an “extra pair of hands,” a navigator with an extraordinary passion for the night sky and vibrant eyes. Beòdul, the dwarf, had immediately expressed his objection to this addition, but the captain’s orders were final.

“Seems the cold night air didn’t dampen your spirits, sir!” a warm voice chimed in, heralding the arrival of the captain's chosen navigator.

“Glad to see you’re done sleeping,” retorted Beòdul, placing emphasis on the word 'navigator.'

“I never get enough sleep when I have work to do, even if it involves Star here,” the young man gestured to a flying owl.

Star seemed more intrigued by the helmsman than his master’s calls. In the end, the owl perched on the stern railing, providing a semblance of safety against the treacherous waves during storms.

Observing this, Beòdul laughed, “Even your bird ignores you! You expect spirits from another world to heed your commands?”

Undeterred, the young man replied, “Spirits don’t heed power or authority. They value other things, requiring us to approach them differently.”

Their conversation continued as the young man carved a rune behind the helm.

---

As the moon began its descent over the sandy expanse, the two deckhands wrapped up their card game. One checked the secured knots, while the other climbed to the watch post. The celestial battle in the sky was at its peak, and Beòdul's trained eye recognized the ancient constellations guiding sailors for generations.

But times were changing. Over the years, sailors noticed an increase in celestial bodies, not just stars but moving entities. These “new stars” added a twist to the age-old navigation methods.

“They aren’t mere stars; they’re sentient beings!” the young navigator exclaimed.

Beòdul sighed, “You mean they’re not stars at all?”

Their late-night discussions became a regular occurrence, with the young navigator providing invaluable insights into the ever-changing night sky. He had even predicted the Star Exodus.

---

The tranquility was shattered by a sudden scream from the main mast. “Fennec Ears! Raise the alarm!”

“The night is about to get interesting,” muttered Beòdul. Fennec Ears referred to a group of desert marauders known for their raids on unsuspecting travelers.

“Alert the captain!” Beòdul shouted.

“No need,” said the navigator calmly. “We’ll rely on the spirits.”

The owl left its perch and began circling the main mast. The navigator’s face glowed with tiny stars, his eyes focused intently on the sky.

“They won’t help because I ask. They’re curious about our journey,” he whispered.

His arms raised skyward, his voice changed, becoming ethereal, as if from another realm. “The spirits wonder: will mortals ever unravel the mysteries of the night sky?”

And with that, the ship lifted from the sand, leaving a trail as it soared among the stars. This marked the beginning of the Defiant’s voyage. As the old saying goes, "per aspera ad astra"—through hardships to the stars.