Albic Ro, the stranger, sits aboard his own ship, the deck beneath him pulsing with the heartbeat of his crew. He is a dark-haired, young man who can't bear to part from his golden, broad turban. Its flash against his dusky complexion, a beacon amidst his ship's constant sway and tumble. He is deft as a cat, bursting with energy that often unveils itself in the form of faint smiles and fiery glints in his distant, stormy eyes.
Ornate rings, heavy with stones from lands beyond, adorn his fingers, reflecting his love for rare, artful jewelry. This love, some say, is the motive behind his unusual occupation. He is no trader, but an explorer of the splendid and unknown. The ink-black sea his office, the foamy waves his coworkers, the nightly lull a mandatory overtime.
Ah, to be an explorer is to be perpetually solitary, one might argue. Not for Albic Ro. He has his best friend, Euric, who harmonizes their adventures with notes from his six-string lute. They met in their youth, sharing dreams and secrets under the sky painted with myriad hues of evening light. The memory of these shared hopes shimmers, like the gems he wears so proudly.
But euphoria often masks the prick of betrayal. His enemy, his very own brother, Mantic, once held his hand, played alongside him in their rustic childhood home. Now Mantic covets his brother's coveted treasures, nursing a bitterness that sours familial ties.
Albic navigates the turbulent waters of this enmity and his marriage. His wife, Aelin, is the sound of his heart, a patient woman with a voice like silver and laughter as soothing as the ocean's song. Together, they have a son, Rhys, a fragile bud of hope whose laughter echoes Albic's zealous heart.
Albic does not seek the approval or applause of others. He believes in a life credo, "Gems remain hidden until someone dares to uncover them". It's whispered endlessly among his crew, imbuing them with a vigor to unearth more than precious stones and metals; to unravel the world's secrets beneath their curious footsteps.
He's a man of simple political views, convinced that might does not make right. The gem of his achievements is not the wealth accumulated from his daring voyages, but the respect earned through steadfast honor, redefining the rules of his voyages and making a name for himself on the sea, not through fear but respect.
His colloquial title, "The Jeweled Mariner" chimes through taverns and dockyards, preceding him always. He has committed crimes; not of violence but of heart, stealing from the sea to give to the land, taking treasures that were never his, to begin with.
He laughs rarely, but brightly, especially at the anecdote of him being mistaken for royalty due to his jeweled adornments. Sleep comes sparingly, the haunting whispers of the sea like ballads keeping him awake, or perhaps, it is the twinge of recurring health problem -- a simmering cold, a nagging reminder of the night he spent, lost at sea.