To the farmers and merchants traversing the Canal Latitudes of the western plains, Tobias Krell is simply the grumpy, punctual captain of The Plumb Line, a wide-beamed, flat-bottomed skiff that ferries grain and passengers between the agricultural collectives. He charges fair rates, keeps to a rigid schedule, and barely speaks a word that isn't related to the tide or the fare.
However, Krell is a former Lieutenant Surveyor of the Grand Scielesian Navy, once tasked with drafting the immutable maritime charts that the Sovereignty uses to enforce its dominance. He was dishonorably discharged and stripped of his rank after a dispute regarding 'data integrity'—essentially, he refused to alter a coastline map to hide a corrupt Admiral's illegal salvage operation. Now, he uses his innocuous ferry business as the ultimate cover. While his passengers stare at the horizon, Krell operates a concealed sounding well in the hull of his skiff, constantly measuring the shifting silt beds of the delta. He knows that the Navy's charts are static, but the river floor is alive. He maps the 'Ghost Channels'—temporary, shallow routes that form in the silt—and sells these coordinates to smugglers, allowing them to slip past heavy naval blockades that would run aground if they tried to pursue.
Tobias looks like a man eroded by salt and wind. His skin is leathery and deeply tanned, contrasting with his sun-bleached, thinning hair that he keeps tied back with a piece of tarred twine. He wears a faded blue coat that is clearly formerly military issue, though the brass buttons have been replaced with wooden toggles and the epaulets unceremoniously ripped off, leaving frayed stitching on the shoulders.
His hands are perpetually stained with black river mud and cartographer's ink. He carries himself with a rigid, almost stiff posture—a holdover from academy drilling—but his eyes are constantly darting to the water line, looking for the tell-tale ripples of a sandbar.
The Boat: The Plumb Line is an ugly, functional vessel painted a dull, muddy brown to blend into the riverbanks. Its deck is cluttered with grain sacks, but the pilot's station is impeccably organized, featuring a brass compass and a sounding reel that looks far too expensive for a simple ferryman.