>>5978492>>5978510>>5978512>>5978518>>5978541>>5978557>>5978607>>5978655>>5978680Confusion grips you as you find yourself replaying the same scenario. The sailors' faces and their shouts are identical to your last memory. This time, you opt for a different tactic. "I... I don't remember..." you feign a struggle with your memory, implying injuries from head trauma and the ingestion of seawater, "I think... our ship was sunk... by the Portuguese... those Catholic dogs!" The sailors exchange startled glances. "The Portuguese warships... are they near?" one asks urgently. You blink slowly, continuing your act, "I... I can’t remember... my head... where are we exactly?" The one who seems to be in charge, John Blackthorne, responds with a slight edge of caution in his voice, "We are in the Japans." "The Japans? What year is this?" you murmur, feigning bewilderment and amnesia. Their initial suspicion eases as they start to see you as a fellow Protestant sailor, victimized by the Catholics. They reveal it's the year 1600, and that they themselves are navigating towards 'the Japans.' Blackthorne, however, remains distrustful. "How do you speak both Dutch and English so fluently?" he demands sharply. It's only then it dawns on you: you've been conversing with 17th-century Dutch sailors without any language barrier. What the hell? Before you can come up with a response to John Blackthorne's question, a sudden commotion erupts. The sailors' faces drain of color as a group of men clad in armor storm the deck, their shouts piercing the tense air. "It's the Japanese," John whispers urgently, his voice low and tense. "Remember, we are just merchants," he instructs swiftly, his eyes scanning the advancing group. "Lost at sea, seeking safe passage home. We drifted here by accident, hoping to once again glimpse our own shores. The Erasmus is nothing more than a trading vessel."
>You trust the pilot>You have a feeling he is lying>Other 