3rd Day of the First Moon, 282 AC – Bay of Crabs, off the coast of the Vale
The sea stretched endless and gray, the horizon a line of steel where sky met water. Salt stung the air, spray dampened cloaks, and the ships creaked as they cut through the waves. For many of the Northmen, it was their first time upon the sea, and the rolling decks unsettled them more than any battlefield.
Jin Mu-Won stood at the prow of one ship, his staff beside him, his bare feet steady upon the slick planks. The wind whipped his dark hair across his brow, but he did not sway. His breath was calm, steady, his stance rooted as if he stood on stone.
Behind him, men leaned over rails, emptying their stomachs into the waves. Sailors laughed at them, though not unkindly. One soldier groaned, "Seven hells, I'd rather face ten knights than this cursed sea."
Jin glanced back, his lips curving faintly. "Then face the sea as you would a knight. Breathe. Find your balance. If you fight the waves, you will fall. If you flow with them, you will stand."
The soldier gave him a weak glare, then tried to mimic his stance. He fell almost at once as the ship rolled, to the laughter of his fellows. Jin only helped him up, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Again," he said.
And so the soldiers tried, one after another, their failures bringing laughter that eased the fear in their bellies. By the second day, some could stand without clutching the rails, their breaths steady, their steps lighter. They began to call him Master Jin half in jest, half in respect.
---
At night, the ships anchored near the coast, their fires flickering in the dark. Men gathered on decks, singing rough songs, their voices carrying across the waves. Jin sat apart with Ned Stark, the two of them watching the firelight ripple upon the sea.
Ned broke the silence first. "I do not trust the sea. It hides too much beneath its surface."
Jin's gaze was calm. "So does the land. Men hide cruelty beneath crowns, fire beneath smiles. The sea is honest. It shows you its storms, its calm, without guile."
Ned gave him a faint smile. "Honesty that can drown you is little comfort."
Jin chuckled softly. "And yet you breathe still. That is comfort enough."
For a time, they sat in silence, the sound of the waves filling the night. At last, Ned asked, "Do you miss your home?"
Jin's eyes darkened, his voice long and heavy. "Every breath. But my home is gone. Burned by pride and cruelty. I stood until my body broke, but even shields cannot hold forever. I thought I died with it. Yet here I am, standing still."
Ned's gaze lowered. "And so you fight our war instead."
Jin's eyes softened. "I fight no one's war. I fight only fire. Wherever it burns, I will stand before it. That is my vow."
Ned bowed his head. "Then the gods were kind to send you here. For without you, I fear we would drown in more than the sea."
---
On the fourth day, a storm struck. The sky blackened, the waves roared, the ships pitched and heaved. Men screamed, clinging to ropes, their fear louder than the thunder.
Jin moved through the storm as though upon still ground, his staff in hand, his voice carrying across the chaos.
"Breathe! Steady your steps! Do not fight the wave — move with it!"
He caught ropes, steadied masts, pulled men from the brink of the sea. When a mast cracked, he braced it with his qi, his strength holding until sailors lashed it fast.
To the men, it seemed sorcery. To Jin, it was only breath, balance, and the flow of qi through wood and air.
When at last the storm passed, the men collapsed upon the deck, weary but alive. They looked to Jin with awe, whispering his name as though he were more spirit than man.
He sat among them, his breath even, his body unshaken. And softly he said, "You see? Even the sea can be shielded, if only for a moment."
---
As the ships neared the coast of the Vale, the men grew quieter. War awaited them on land again, and the respite of the sea — even with storms — had given them time to laugh, to breathe.
That night, by the fire, Jin spoke to them not of war, but of stories. He told them of the Murim, of mountains where men trained beneath waterfalls, of masters who taught not for crowns but for balance, of students who learned to laugh even in the shadow of death.
The soldiers listened, rapt, their eyes bright. For a time, they were not soldiers of the North, not rebels marching to war, but boys again, dreaming of mountains and rivers and laughter.
And when Jin finished, there was silence. Then a young soldier whispered, "Master Jin… will you teach us more?"
Jin smiled faintly, his eyes warm. "If you breathe, you are already learning."
---
The sea stretched before them still, endless and gray. But now the men stood steadier, breathed calmer, laughed more easily.
And though storms would come again — storms of sea and storms of war — they had found something they had not known before: a shield that stood among them, not to command, not to rule, but simply to steady.
And for men who had seen only fire, that steadiness was hope enough.
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