Nabir presents himself as a man shaped entirely by service. Assigned to a Maghrabi cruiser, he moves with the practiced ease of a career sailor who knows his place and sees no reason to question it. His uniform is worn correctly, his posture steady, his expression neutral. He does not linger in conversation, nor does he seek attention. Duty defines him, and he is comfortable within its limits.
His orders are simple. Observe the scholar. Report what matters. Avoid involvement beyond what protocol demands. Nabir follows these instructions without complaint or interpretation. He does not speculate, does not pry, and does not embellish. Curiosity holds little appeal for him. Ambition even less. What others call blind obedience, Nabir understands as discipline.
Among the crew, he is known for consistency. He stands his watch. He completes his tasks. He keeps his thoughts to himself. In a navy thick with rumor, politics, and quiet bargaining, Nabir’s reliability makes him useful. Officers trust him because he does not improvise. Sailors respect him because he does not interfere.
To Herte, Nabir feels like a fixed presence. Neither openly hostile nor remotely friendly. A reminder that he is observed, contained, and never fully alone. Nabir offers no threats and no reassurance. He simply remains.
Nabir’s first impression is one of narrow certainty. A man uninterested in shaping events, convinced that history belongs to those above him. Yet in choosing obedience over reflection, he places himself closer to consequence than he realizes. Sometimes, history moves not through ambition, but through those who follow orders until they stand at its edge.