As he read Altair's elegant calligraphy at a crawling pace, Cygnus felt the fatigue in his limbs more acutely. Sleep came to him as easily as waking did to him; very. But he was able to stave off his need to rest for long periods of time. If he wasn't able to do at least that much, then he would be unfit to be captain. A captain needed to outlast his crew but never his ship - and if he had to stay awake longer than his men, so be it. But there was more incentive than fulfilling his duty as captain for him to stay up. He wanted to read everything, and he didn't want to stop until he did. So he did keep reading, with an eagerness that was silent as it was still.<br/><br/>Without fail Cygnus would be persecuted if he had just sailed to the nearest coast and decided to disembark and travel town; few places tolerated pirates, with Weiss being a special exception due to the nature of his mercantile relationship with its King. If he wanted to see the beauty of a place like Dusan, he would have to take special care. If he could not dock in the place itself for fear of persecution by whatever sort of men governed the place, he would have to dock the ship in a secluded location where his ship could be hidden. That way it would not be stolen. Provisions would have to be packed, for him and his crew. Then it would take hours of walk to reach wherever he wished to travel usually, because of how most secluded locations tended to situated far away from centers of commerce. Though everytime the effort was spared it was worth it for Cygnus. It was an peculiar idiosyncrasy to him; he could be cruel, he could be sadistic, but at the same time he had an odd scholarly interest in the world.<br/><br/>Dusan unfolded before his eyes, with each and every ornate letter by Altair's hand. It was clear that the writer was one who felt deep seated passion and pride for Dusan.<i>How strange, </i>Cygnus thought.<i>A slave that loves the land that enslaved him. I cannot say I hold the sentiment. The homeland that enslaves you deserves only loathing and vengeance, but I presume it's because you're educated. They never whipped you, and they never starved you. I suppose that your rare case has only filled you with love for your homeland. After all, why hate the land that taught you all you need to know to survive? That fed you luxury in handfuls? You could, if you wanted to be spoiled. </i>There were extravagant amounts of Dusanian knowledge recorded into the pages of the book. More than he would likely need.<br/><br/>When reading he couldn't help but scowl at the entry of slaves.<i>Is this an insult to me, and how I raped you? Your masters are rather weak if they choose to wait until you allow them to touch you... if I were them, I would have your back whipped until fish could eat your softened flesh for making me wait. I find it difficult to imagine you being affectionate, Altair. Sometimes you remind me of some frigid Weiss women, the way you speak. It would be easier for me to imagine a bitch foaming at the mouth trying to be affectionate than you.</i>It was a tempting thought to stand up and push Altair down to the floor, and rape him again, but no. The entry on the Dusanian goddess Lain was in a way fearsome. He now remembered that Lain was the goddess that Altair followed, and if she could truly have her way easily, then it would not be in his best interests to anger her. Not with his crew asleep and him nearly drifting off into sleep himself. It took more energy than he cared to spend to anger a god once more.<br/><br/>In due time he was finished reading all that Altair had written, though he imagined he would have to re-read the text in order to truly remember it. In his eagerness he had read all too quickly, and the details of the writing were fuzzy in his head. He slid the book across the table, nudging Altair's arm. "I've been extinguished for the day, and I must rest. Will you be good or will you be foul? I can only guess. You may be quiet now, but when I sleep you might decide to slit my throat. But perhaps I'll give you the benefit of my faith and leave you unrestrained. If you would like, pass the time until I awake by reading about Weiss." Cygnus stood up and stretched, wandering over to his cot in the corner and lying down. Within moments of resting his bed against the pillow, he fell asleep soundly.<br/><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
<span style="font-size: 18px">Weiss<br/>
The History of the Sageburn Dynasty<br/>
Thousands of years ago, it was said that the people of Weiss could be divided into two: black and white, Black were the ones that traced their lineage back to the dragon of Earth, white were the ones that traced their lineage back to the dragon of Ice. In time both sides came to gray, for the black and white married and bore children descended from the dragons of Earth and Ice. The descendants of the Earth Dragon were known for their hair as black as onyx and their eyes as blue as sea, and the descendants of the Ice Dragon were known for their hair as white as snow and eyes as red as spilled blood. They were known for their mastery of magic over earth and ice respectively, and were said to have been able to create cities with their only limit being themselves.<br/>
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In time Weiss came to be proliferated by people whose lineages could be traced elsewhere. These newcomers, known as Tmetians, were armed with weapons that were unheard of, made of iron. They wanted land, and they would take it if they could. The Tmetians feared the magic of the dragon descendants, believing them to be gained by unholy means. The dragon descendants worshipped the Ice and Earth dragon as one would Gods, and it was from them that they derived their powers. The dragon descendants were far outnumbered by the newcomers; their magic would only get them so far. So they were forced further North, as the newcomers settled themselves into the native land of the dragon descendants. <br/>
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Millenia would pass, and the dragon descendants would find themselves fading. They were numbered in a handful of thousands, spread across the far north and weak. For millenia they had led harsh lives in the bitter cold, in part helped by their magic. If they continued to live such lives they would eventually go extinct. To the south lay the Sagedom of Fire, a government descended from the Tmetians that had survived in Weiss, governed by 14 wise old men, their enemies as old as existence. Perhaps they would've gone extinct, had it not been the efforts of the first Sageburn, Tilmaris. <br/>
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Tilmaris, then known as Tilmaris Snow, was then the strongest descendant of the Ice dragon. No longer would he stand for the subjugation of his people. Anger inside him was roused at the treatment of his people; they were feared, they were seen as ungodly. Any contact they had tried to make with the Tmetians resulted in bloodshed and death. Tilmaris roused the anger in all of his people, which was when they struck. With the power of his people behind him, he waged war.. Iron against magic.<br/>
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Towards the end of the war, things had been looking bleak for Tilmaris and his people. True to their name, the forces of the Sagedom of Fire had used fire against them, a product of alchemy that was exceptionally hot and burned for hellish amounts of time. Their hellfire was unstoppable. Many men and women who had power over ice died to such fire, which rendered them weak. There was no shortage of fire in their small cities, much less their capital. They were losing, and they could either retreat or be remembered as history. <br/>
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In the dark of night on a fateful day, Tilmaris snuck the capital of the Sagedom of Fire, alone. If their hellfire was unstoppable, then he would use it against them. Carried on his back was a large pot of hellfire, stolen from the Sagedom long before. With the pot he went to the citadel with the pot, setting it down. He would unleash upon the sages that slept soundly in their castles the terror that was their own creation, at the cost of his life. With one last prayer to the Ice Dragon for strength, he lit the pot.<br/>
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That night, fire consumed the citadel. All fourteen of the sages that had been residing in the citadel, blissfully believing that they were protected, died that night in a blaze of fire. But Tilmaris Snow didn't die, and he survived. With their leaders dead the forces of the Sagedom surrendered. Then forth, Tilmaris was given the name Sageburn, for his part in ending the beast that loomed over his people using what was considered his own weakness.</span>​</div>