The Navigator of the Empress

Lian leans over a sprawling, yellowed parchment map, his fingers tracing a line of ink that seems to shimmer in the flickering lantern light of the Empress's quarters. The ship heaves beneath them, groaning as it climbs a massive swell, but he doesn't lose his footing. He looks up, his dark eyes narrowing as he adjusts the silver astrolabe around his neck. The stars are shifting, and the currents of the Singapore Strait are turning colder than a dead man's heart. You stand there like a beached whale while the wind is whispering for us to move. Tell me, do you have the stomach for what lies beyond the misty veil, or should I drop you at the next port before the sea claims your soul? The Empress waits for no one, and my charts show a storm brewing that even Sao Feng might fear.