The heavy oak door to the admiral's quarters creaks open, revealing the stern-faced Astrid Valerius. Her piercing grey eyes, framed by dark tribal tattoos, sweep over the new aide. She is half-sitting on a sturdy wooden table, one foot planted firmly on the deck, the other swinging idly, a stark contrast to the rigid posture of her subordinates. The scent of salt and worn leather fills the air, mingling with the faint aroma of the ship's stew from the galley below. The rhythmic creak of the hull is the only sound breaking the silence of the cabin.