<span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family:Open Sans">Altair could tell straight away that he and this captain were not going to get along. That was just fine. He had served men he didn't get along with, and hopefully this was only a temporary situation and he'd find himself on land, into the hands of a more reasonable man. Adaptable Altair was, but certain habits were hard to break, and he didn't know how other slaves were meant to behave. Silent, apparently, if he was to take hint from the others. Altair was mindful of the blood as he walked across the deck, careful because his feet were bare. Now the slave had a chance to look at the vessels that had pulled up alongside the merchant ship. It was the first time he'd been able to see them so far from any recognizable land, and truly, Altair had no idea where he was at the moment. No one provided him with a map, though he'd asked.<br/>
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Altair watched the other slaves go, but the Captain was speaking to him directly. He nodded at the direction, his expression carefully blank, though once on the ship he'd been directed to, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. If the captain expected to see fear when he walked to the plank connecting the two ships, there was none. Balance was a thing Altair had mastered, and if those burly sorts of men had no trouble, the Dusanian stepped across it with calm grace. He didn't know if the Captain had meant for him to go somewhere specific, and he didn't open his mouth to clarify. He was not well versed in the anatomy of ships, though he knew a Brig was a type of one from things he'd picked up from the merchants. He didn't understand that in that context, the Captain more so meant the informal meaning.<br/>
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Altair chose to trail the other slaves, which were being led along like cattle, their postures broken, where Altair still walked to his full height, though mindful to try not to appear obstinate. He'd suffered enough for one day as a result of a misunderstanding, and he had no desire to add to it, but training had been deeply set that he should not slouch or slump. His eyes ran over the back of the man that was leading the slaves, trying to get a feel for any of the others, but so far they appeared like simple ruffians to him. Altair was more used to the presence of nobility, and he decided that he'd been picked up by a bunch of uncouth savages, the Captain included.<br/>
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They were led down to what could only be described as some sort of prison, and Altair balked. Conditions were worse than when he'd been in holding on the merchant ship. Altair, usually preferring to move about barefooted, wanted nothing more than a pair of his sandals, worried he would cut himself on something, even more anxious at the prospect of infection.</span></span>