Dorran's throat bobbed. His eyes drifted to the window where the last pink of evening was dying over Crownhold's walls, and for a breath he looked like he might refuse.
But then he exhaled and spoke.
"He didn't die in a storm," he said quietly. "He didn't die to some sea monster. He died because the Vermilion Kingdom decided a man like him didn't deserve a second chance."
Nox didn't interrupt.
Fingers clenched on his knees. "It was supposed to be a quiet run. Father had stopped hunting pirates and started escorting merchant routes. People paid him in coin and smiles instead of fear. We were coming back from Snowhelm with crates of salt-fish and iron nails. My mother… she was with us. She liked the calm runs. Said the sea looked prettier when nobody was screaming."
He smiled without humor. "That morning the water was like glass. No wind. You could see our shadow on the blue. Father told me to keep watch, so I climbed the mast and looked forever. Nothing. Not even gulls."
