FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

In The Mist Of The Erie Isles

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Eight: Arona's Atonement

“I'm glad we could come to an agreement." Irzain shakes Trellan's hand.

“Likewise. It's nice to have some fellow enemies of the crown with me for once!"

“That doesn't bother you?" Kirsta asks, shaking his hand as well.

“Hell no! If anything, it's a bonus!" The elder Vizhek chuckles.

“What did those soldiers want you for, anyway?" Irzain wonders.

“For smuggling... Probably... And otherwise undermining 'his royal pain in the ass'." Trellan grins.

Standing in Trellan's cabin, on the upper deck, Mairlynn glances over her shoulder, peering through a window.

“So, uh, where are we heading?" She asks.

“We'll figure that out as soon as we get back to Mernak and find your friends." Trellan swiftly replies.

“We're going back?!" Mairlynn chirps, her eyes lighting up.

“In a roundabout way, yes. Those lackeys of the crown will sail after us for a few days, but we're certainly further than that from them, as fast as Arona is... We'll need to head further into the open ocean before sailing in a teardrop and return to Mernak."

“Won't they be expecting us there?!" Irzain asks.

“These are soldiers of the crown..." Trellan replies.

“Won't they be expecting us there?" Kirsta inquires, cocking her head.

“Doubtful!" The old elf chirps.

“What makes you say that?"

“For one, they serve a monarchy, the most ignorant of any body of government, and for another, they're soldiers!" Trellan laughs.

“I don't get it." Irzain shakes his head.

“They'll desert that island in a mad dash to catch us, just so that they might present us like trophies and win a chance to kiss the ass of their panty-waste of a king. Whoever's left will be on high alert until they return, but they'll be town guards; what do they care who we are? We will have to anchor offshore and out of sight, but we should be able to go back and find out what happened to your friends."

“Oh! ... Well... Good!" Irzain chirps.

“When do you think we'll be back?" Kirsta asks.

“I'll have us back by mid-day, tomorrow. I promise... I won't leave your friends out there."

Trellan's expression suddenly morphs, becoming quite melancholy. His silver eyes glisten from the water that wells within them.

“I know what it's like... Sitting there and not knowing... Wondering if you'll ever see them again... It's a terrible fate, and one that I'll spare you from, if I can."

“Thank you, Captain Trellan. You're a good man." Irzain remarks.

“I'm just a man, and I'm not a captain. A captain needs a crew, and rank above them; everyone is equal to me... There are quarters below deck with a few cots and hammocks. I hope they'll do for now... I should get back to the wheel."

Kirsta, Irzain and Mairlynn look between each other for a moment. Sighing and stretching her little arms, Mairlynn arches her back.

“I could use a nice cot to sleep on. The bed in that hotel wasn't quite what I was hoping for... Not enough stuffing, I think. I could feel the boards beneath me."

Walking along the deck of the Arona-Dahl, the trio scout the vessel, familiarizing themselves with the ship. Only now does Irzain notice the complicated pulleys that run along and beneath the ship's rigging, and the gears built into the masts. Their teeth protrude from behind special shielding. Somehow, Trellan has managed to either find or construct a ship that appears to be nearly totally automated. He looks to Kirsta, who seems perplexed by the craft's construction, before switching his attention to Mairlynn. The next oldest among them, he leans over, speaking to the youthful Falmun woman.

“Have you seen a ship like this one before?"

“No. My family lived on an island that was a fishing colony. I've seen hundreds of ships in my forty-five years, but this is something else entirely." She replies, softly stroking a mechanical mast.

Passing through a watertight door in the upper deck's floor, they make their way below. They find that there are various rooms within the hull of the vessel. Peeking her head through a door beside the stairs, Mairlynn peers into a room at the rear of the ship. Located just beneath Trellan's cabin, she finds what appears to be a dining area or a lounge. A row of windows gives a wonderful view of the wake behind the ship, and a door in the far corner leads to a modest galley. Running from stem to stern, these rooms could comfortably and privately house ten people, though several of the rooms are utterly void of furnishings and purpose.

A rather small section near the bow sits below a watertight cargo door, and serves as a modest hold. It's clear that Trellan never intended for his ship to ever carry large quantities of anything; it's essentially a houseboat. Peeking into several of the rooms, they find several which are sparsely furnished, and others near the front of the vessel, which are entirely empty. Throughout the craft are rows of brass and painted iron piping, as well as thick, cloth-covered cables that fit to strange plates that appear to be made of onyx. The trio each claim a room, picking those closest to the stairs that lead to the upper deck.

“Now what?" Mairlynn asks.

She looks up at the two humans as they all stand in the central hallway. Glancing toward the window of a port hole, Kirsta seems lost in thought, gazing out at the sea. Looking down at the Falmun, Irzain shrugs his shoulders.

“I don't know. I guess now we wait? Maybe get some rest?" He suggests.

“Did you maybe want some company?!" The youthful looking elf asks with an innocent smile.

“Sure. We can sit and talk if you'd like."

“That's not the kind of company she means." Kirsta remarks with a little smirk.

“What?" Irzain raises a brow.

“Oh, shut up! Like you don't want to have sex with him!" Mairlynn snaps.

“Sex?! What's going on?!" Irzain becomes unnerved.

“I don't." Kirsta replies.

“Oh, so you only like girls?" Mairlynn coos.

“I had a lover, but... He's gone." Kirsta sighs sorrowfully.

“Only one?!" Mairlynn chuckles.

“Yes. I feel that loyalty is often appreciated."

“I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were boring."

“Okay!" Irzain speaks loudly, gaining their attention. “I'm not sure what you intended, but there's no way I'm sleeping with anyone here."

“Aww, come on!" The little elf coos, stepping closer.

“We can talk if you'd like."

“And what else?" She asks, reaching out and stroking his side.

“... I'm not looking for lovers." He says, pushing her hand away.

Thoroughly rejected by yet another man, Mairlynn scowls and turns away. Stepping slowly backward, he heads for his room as Mairlynn crosses her spindly arms and pouts. Entering his room, he closes the door, eager to be rid of the discomforting situation. The elf glances over her shoulder, turning her ruby eyes toward his door.

“I can't say I blame him." Kirsta remarks, walking toward the lounge.

“Why's that? Does he have someone that I don't know about?!"

“There's a lot about him that you don't know." Kirsta replies, looking back at the Falmun.

“Maybe you can explain some of it!" Mairlynn rushes to catch up with her.

“Fine... But don't come onto me, or I'll throw you into the ocean!"

“Okay! I only like men anyway; nothing's more fun that fitting their key into my lock." Mairlynn giggles.

“..."

Lying atop his cot, Irzain stares at the ceiling. He can feel the subtle swaying as the craft bobs gently in the ocean. Something about it is unusually peaceful. It brings him great comfort, feeling the strange familiarity of the swaying ship. Closing his eyes, he has a sudden flash. Standing aboard the deck of a galleon, it's flag and sails bear the marks of the crown. Heavy footfalls approach, thudding on the wooden floorboards. He turns, only to see a familiar looking woman. She's a Helngar, like the creature from elder Matius' encyclopedia, and the same race accompanying the soldiers of Mernak, who tried to arrest them.

With dark purple and black fur in a two-tone pattern, she's a unique specimen amongst her people. Beautiful eyes, like polished turquoise stones, stare back at him. A smile crosses her thin lips, which soon peel back to reveal her impressive grin. With sharp canines that protrude like small fangs, the remainder of her teeth are omnivorous, like those of a dog. Her narrowed eyes scan his features as she steps closer on her digitigrade feet. The three toes of her large feet are completely visible, as she wears no footwear. A flowing robe covers her form, but a velvet belt around her waist reveals her figure.

She moves casually and with confidence, approaching the human, who feels no fear in his vision. She's easily six feet and four inches tall, as her chin could rest atop the crown of his head. Standing before him, the female Helngar leans in, her face inching closer to his own. Irzain's arm slides around her form, pulling her closer and pressing her ample breasts into his chest. Cooing, the Henlgar female kisses him upon his lips. In only a matter of moments, he feels her long, pointy tongue slithering into his mouth. Opening his eyes, Irzain shoots up.

“Woah... What was that?!" He speaks to himself.

Reaching a hand up, he feels his forehead. Beads of sweat dampen his palm. Turning toward the port hole in his room, he's shocked to find that the sun is down. Did he fall asleep?! A growling in his belly confirms his suspicions. Rising from the cot, Irzain exits his room, heading toward the rear of the ship. Entering the lounge, he finds both Mairlynn and Trellan inside. They turn in their seats.

“Speak of the Seraphs!" Trellan remarks, waving at the human.

“Hi."

“Finally wake up, eh?" Mairlynn asks.

“Yeah. How long was I asleep for?"

“All day. In fact, I was just about to get some sleep." Trellan replies.

“What about the ship?! Doesn't someone need to steer it or something?" Irzain asks in shock.

“As I explained to your equally confused lady friend, the Arona-Dahl is a very special ship. She can hold a course without me, so long as she doesn't need to turn more than a few degrees."

Grunting as he rises from his seat, Trellan stretches his back.

“Ugh... Never get old, Irzain."

“Too late." Mairlynn snickers.

“He's got time left." Trellan smirks. “Goodnight, Mairlynn. It's been a pleasure."

“Goodnight."

Waving cutely with her fingertips, Mairlynn watches as Trellan heads for the archway. Irzain steps aside, allowing them to pass each other, before walking further into the room and passing Mairlynn. He finds a plate of bread and cheese, beside a few wooden goblets and a pewter pitcher of wine. Turning back with his simple meal, Mairlynn pats the space beside her. Without a thought, he joins the dainty elf at the well-cushioned bench.

“Have any dreams?" Mairlynn sweetly asks.

“Yeah, actually..."

“Oh?!"

“I was on a ship, and a Helngar woman approached me." He begins, speaking with his mouth full.

“You sure it was a woman?"

Pausing, Irzain makes a motion with his hands, outlining the woman's considerable bust.

“Oh... I see..." She grumbles.

“What?"

“Men like tits. I get it! Keep going!" She snaps.

“So, uh... I saw her approaching me, aboard a ship..." He cautiously continues.

“This one?"

“No. It was a big ship, like the one that's chasing us. I think it had a royal flag, too."

“Maybe that's a memory!"

“Huh?" He cocks his head.

“Kirsta told me about you; how they found you wandering her island. Maybe it's a memory returning? I can't imagine amnesia being permanent, but I could be wrong."

He scratches his bearded chin, pondering the possibility. Was that a faded memory? She certainly felt familiar in his dream. Continuing his meal, Irzain contemplates the Helngar, wondering who she might be to him. Setting down his empty goblet, he reaches for the pitcher, only to feel a pressure in his side. Turning his head, Mairlynn presses her shoulder into his body and rests a hand atop his leg.

“It must be so hard for you. Not knowing who you really are."

As she speaks, her hand slides along his leg, inching toward his groin.

“Maybe there's a wife waiting for you somewhere? ... Children..."

Resting her hand over his pelvis, she gives his groin a squeeze and feels his manhood through his pants.

“Yeah, you're right." He replies, scooting away. “I should really consider their feelings."

Realizing her mistake, Mairlynn straightens in her seat.

“Or maybe you don't!" She swiftly replies. “You might be single! Maybe you have a serious fetish for Falmun girls!"

“I can't take that chance." He calmly replies, rising from the seat. “Would you?"

“... Yes?" She whimpers.

“I should really be mindful of my potential family's feelings. Thank you for the talk. Have a goodnight, Mairlynn."

Leaving the room, she sits alone, staring at the archway for a moment. Her brow softens and she looks toward the floor, sulking.

“Damnit..."

With his stomach as full as it can be, without exposing himself to the sexually frustrated elven woman, Irzain returns to his room. He struggles to sleep at first, having already rested, but after a time, the swaying of the ship rocks him back to sleep. The mysterious Helngar does not return again. Awakening from an uneventful slumber, Irzain climbs from his cot and heads into the hall. A brief search reveals the rest of the crew to be in the lounge, finishing their breakfasts.

“Nice of you to finally join us." Kirsta greets him, sitting before an empty plate.

“Hello."

Taking a plate and filling it with fruit and bread, he returns to the elongated table, which is fused to the floor, and sits with the others.

“So... Have a good sleep?" Trellan asks.

“It was alright."

“Pleasant dreams?" Kirsta inquires.

Looking at his companions, he can see the looks on their faces. Trellan seems mildly amused, while Kirsta glares almost accusatorily. Mairlynn, with a sinister grin, waves her fingers quite tauntingly.

“... Maybe?" He finally replies.

“Ugh." Kirsta rolls her eyes.

“Well, I'm far too old to judge." Trellan chuckles.

“I'm sorry?" Irzain raises a brow.

“Whatever you learn about yourself in the future, perhaps you should keep it to yourself?" Kirsta suggests.

“It's not that bad. I've heard of far worse fetishes." Trellan remarks.

“Me too." Mairlynn chirps.

“What did she tell you?!" Irzain looks apprehensively at the elven woman.

“Never mind that. We won't have much time before we anchor. Eat quickly and meet us on deck." Trellan replies.

Sliding out of the corner of the booth, he passes Trellan, patting him on the shoulder. Kirsta, still grimacing from her own thoughts, exits from the opposite side, leaving Irzain sitting across from Mairlynn.

“What did you say to them?" He asks her quietly.

“Oh, just the truth... As I heard it." She winks. “Maybe you should've explained it to me better, in your quarters."

Slithering out of the booth, she dashes past Irzain, heading for the archway.

“See you soon!" She giggles.

Scarfing down his meal as fast as he can, he heads up the stairs and onto the main deck. Looking around, he's surprised to see land, surrounding the ship. A brief glimpse reveals that the ship has anchored in a cove, well out of sight of the open ocean. Trellan's voice calls out to him, directing his attention. Heading for his companions, who stand beside the railing, he peers over. In the water is a small fishing boat, much like the one they'd left Valan and Jarae in. It bobs with the waves, waiting beneath a rope ladder that dangles from a slot built into the Arona-Dahl's hull.

“Where'd that come from?!" He asks.

“I keep it as a lifeboat, just behind the ship." Trellan points.

“... I didn't see that yesterday!"

“You weren't looking hard enough. Climb in. We're a ways from town, but we can make it in an hour or so."

They follow the old elf down the ladder; the tall and lanky Vizhek drops into the little boat first. As Irzain takes his seat, Trellan lifts the right sleeve of his flowing shirt, revealing a strange, blocky bracer.

“Is the ship going to be safe here?" Mairlynn asks.

“I hope so." Kirsta replies.

“She'll be safe." Trellan begins.

Removing a piece of the bracer, he plugs the prongs into a strange set of small holes on the hull. Pulling away a watertight compartment, he pushes a few buttons, then pulls a lever. The rope ladder retracts. He covers the panel, locking it back into place. Replacing the key onto his bracer, he pulls down his sleeve and opens the small boat's sail.

“She can't go anywhere now, not with her rudder disabled." He smirks.

“You did that from here?!" Kirsta gasps.

“Oh yes!"

“Fascinating!" Irzain remarks.

“Looks like we picked the right man." Mairlynn grins.

With Trellan manning the sail and Irzain rowing, the little boat makes its way along the coast, before reaching the very same dock they'd been to only a day ago. Tying the boat to the smaller, wooden docks and paying the man at the gate for their time, the group heads into town.

“Do you think they'll be here?" Mairlynn asks.

“If they are, we just need to check the taverns and inns. I can't imagine where else they'd go." Kirsta replies.

“We should probe for information as well." Irzain remarks.

“Yes, but be careful. Try not to sound like you're from another island; that'll draw unnecessary attention." Trellan warns them.

After quickly planning out their mission, the group splits into two teams; Kirsta and Trellan head toward the eastern part of town, while Irzain and Mairlynn take the west. Mairlynn, as a Falmun, wears her hood up, covering her features. Gripping tightly to Irzain's hand completes the facade; most will believe her to be his pre-teen daughter. Trellan, as a Vizhek, can roam freely on any island belonging to his race's kingdom. It doesn't take long before either group learns what's transpired. The entire town is abuzz with the excitement over the strange ship fleeing from the crown's galleons. To Irzain's delight, Trellan was correct; every ship of the crown abandoned the island in pursuit of the Arona-Dahl.

Their search, however, swiftly proves fruitless. Speaking to the bartender at the first tavern they enter, Irzain and Mairlynn learn in a matter of minutes that many had witnessed the conflict, and the small fishing boat that was caught in the middle.

“It was quite a sight!" The bartender chuckles. “Cannonballs chasing that weird ship like a horny boy after the choir girls. Poor fishermen didn't stand a chance."

“You saw it?!" Mairlynn gasps.

“I certainly did!"

“And you're sure they're dead?" Irzain leans closer.

“I'm fairly certain, considering at least one cannon had grapeshot. Peppered the water good, it did! One cannonball blew the mast clean off, so she drifted with the current. A shame we couldn't bury them... What's it to you, anyway?" The bartender raises a brow.

“Oh, uh..." Irzain hesitates.

“Daddy's just worried because his cousin is a fisherman on Mernak. We came to visit but he wasn't home, and you can imagine how we felt when we overheard the passersby speaking of the battle." Mairlynn swiftly lies.

“Well, aren't you an articulate little lady!" The bartender chuckles.

“... Thanks..."

“I wouldn't worry about your Uncle. As far as I know, they were newcomers."

“Do you know where the current flows?" Irzain asks.

The bartender merely shrugs his shoulders.

“Did you want a drink to calm those nerves?"

“Sure..." Irzain sighs.

“What about you, little lady?"

“Okay!" Mairlynn chirps.

“Ale and soft cider, coming up."

Taking their drinks and leaving their payment, Irzain and Mairlynn sit at a table in the far corner. Staring into her mug, the Falmun takes a drink.

“I haven't had a real drink in so long... Everywhere I go, this happens. I like ale too..." She grumbles.

“Pass me your mug."

Shifting her eyes, Mairlynn can see that Irzain is looking over his shoulder, scanning the crowd. She slides her mug across the table, bumping it into his forearm. He extends his other arm, passing her his ale. No one seems to notice. Mairlynn gleefully claims the mug and begins guzzling the mildly alcoholic brew.

“Ahh..." She sighs with delight. “Is this your way of saying sorry for not sleeping with me?"

“Have you noticed that we haven't seen anyone wearing anything resembling a guard's uniform?" He asks, ignoring her question.

“No."

“Well, I have." He brings the mug to his lips, drinking her soft cider. “It's got me thinking..."

“Thinking about what? ... Irzain?"

He ignores her, clearly deep in thought. Taking another drink, he chugs the cider. Mairlynn joins him, finishing her own ale in a matter of seconds. Setting down the mug and rising from his seat, he wipes his lips with a shirtsleeve.

“Let's go."

Sliding out of her chair, Mairlynn takes hold of his hand, following him out of the door. Approaching the table, the bartender reaches for the mugs, pausing and looking with considerable confusion at their placement. Moving through the streets, Irzain looks at every building with a sign, examining each and every one. A smile crosses his lips as he finds what he's looking for. With a perplexed look upon her face, Irzain leads her into a library. Stepping through the tall doorway, the lone employee is a Vizhek man. This is unsurprising, as the Vizhek are known for their love of knowledge and the sciences; many are highly literate before their tenth birthday.

Turning his golden eyes away from his book, the Vizhek is startled by the appearance of two humans, a middle-aged man and his young daughter. As many are without the ability to read and cipher, the Vizhek clears his throat.

“Hello!" Mairlynn waves.

“Hi. May I help you two?" The librarian asks.

“This is a rather small building!" Irzain remarks.

“And likely not the one you were looking for..."

“Do you have a copy of 'A Story of Two Islands' by Lachser Sindeck?" Irzain continues.

“Why, yes... Yes, I do."

The surprised Vizhek rises from his chair, towering over the pair with an unusually large stature. The almost seven-foot-tall elf with sky blue skin and golden hair and eyes walks around his desk, approaching the pair.

“Forgive me. I didn't realize you were a learned man. Most of your kind... Heh... Well... They're less than learned." The librarian snickers.

“No offense taken."

“Right this way, sir."

Following the librarian as he leads them through the modest building, Irzain reads the signs quite carefully. Noticing a cubby of a room, there are barrels full of scrolls. Above the cubby is a sign that reads 'charts', alongside a depiction of a map and a graphite-spike compass. Looking back, he motions with his head toward the tiny room. Releasing Mairlynn's hand, she swiftly yet quietly makes her way inside, looking for charts.

“Here we are! One of the finest novels ever written." The librarian exclaims, plucking the book from the shelf.

“I could've found it myself." Irzain remarks, taking the book.

“I'm sure you could've." The librarian smirks.

Staring up at the smug looking Vizhek, Irzain feels slighted. The librarian's doubt in his talents is as plain as the nose on his face. Narrowing his eyes at the towering, blue elf with golden hair, Irzain picks a random page. For some reason, he can recall this book. He opens it, passing the first page, containing several famous lines that are often quoted. He flips through the pages, glaring angrily at the elf, who's expression changes to that of perplexity. Irzain turns his eyes away, looking at the book.

“They went into a dingy room lined with books and littered with papers, where there was a blazing fire. A kettle steamed upon the hob, and in the midst of the wreck of papers a table shone, with plenty of wine upon it, and brandy, and rum, and sugar, and lemons." Irzain reads aloud.

Closing the book loudly, he tilts his head back, staring up at the librarian.

“I-I'm truly sorry, I-"

“Shut up." Irzain growls, interrupting the elf. “When an honorable man tells you that he can read, that means he can read. How dare you condescend me in such a manner!"

“I apologize. I'm just not used to..."

“Say it..." Irzain grumbles.

“You must admit, your race is hardly imposing, physically or intellectually... In comparison, you're only a step above those beastly Jaliscan and Helngar. Rarely do I encounter honorable humans, or Falmun, and even rarer are those with skills such as yours."

“And yet you still decide to judge me, having no knowledge of who or what I am?"

“Considering your people, can you really blame me?" The librarian shrugs.

Irzain merely shakes his head, disgusted by the librarian's behavior and callous attitude. He feels a tugging on his shirtsleeve.

“We got your book. Can we go now, daddy?" Mairlynn asks in a sweet voice.

“If you'd like to take it off of the premises, I'd have to ask for two vasariks. It'll cost you a vasarik a day after the first three days."

“That's not a problem, sir..." Irzain replies, still angered by the slight.

Reaching into his coin purse, he takes out a large, copper vasarik worth five. The librarian swiftly exchanges it, returning three, smaller vasariks, also made of copper and each worth one. With book in hand, he slips the smaller vasariks into his coin purse, before taking hold of Mairlynn's hand and leading her out of the library. He doesn't see or hear the rustling of papers, and briefly worries if she'd even taken any from the tiny room. Leaving the library, they make their way toward the rendezvous point, considerably ahead of schedule.

“Don't you want to keep searching?" She asks.

“No. I don't think there's a point."

“... You think they're dead."

Stopping in his tracks, Irzain turns to Mairlynn, looking down at the diminutive elf. Her tanned skin seems to radiate in the sunlight and her ruby eyes reveal a sadness within her heart, as she looks up at the human.

“No... I think that they might've been injured by grapeshot, and that they may, in fact, have been pulled by the current toward the open ocean. I'm hoping that we can find their course and follow them. You did steal the charts, right?"

With a little smile crossing her lips, Mairlynn opens her flowing cloak, revealing her body to him. Wearing a salmon pink blouse that hugs her torso, it reveals her shoulders and the very top of her modest bust. The sheets of the scrolls line her slender frame like wallpaper, the ink protected from the elements by facing her. Her small breasts push through her shirt, enhancing their appearance as they rest atop the sheets of paper. The brown leather belt that holds up her coffee colored breeches is around her waist, as it should be, with the papers tucked gently behind it.

“All this and more can be yours." She coos.

“I'll just take the charts, thanks. My potential wife would thank me to not cheat on her." Irzain replies, sliding the sheets out from behind her belt.

“Ugh... Fine!" Mairlynn rolls her eyes. “I'll just have to have sex with Valan, after we find him."

“That's assuming he isn't a man-whore either." He quips.

“What do you mean?!"

“All that time he's spending with that woman, Jarae."

“The Jaliscan?!" Mairlynn snickers.

“Maybe he's got his eye on a new lady-friend? You might be out of luck."

“She's just a pet. All men like pets."

“... That attitude is very unbecoming of you." Irzain politely scolds her.

Looking up and into his eyes, Mairlynn can see his disgust. With shame in her eyes, she closes her cloak and turns away. Taking a seat atop a nearby crate, Irzain rests the scrolls on an upright barrel. It appears that several people have used this spot to rest, potentially eating or drinking there, but it'll do for now, and it's within eyesight of the rendezvous point. Quietly approaching him, Mairlynn cocks her head.

“Hm... Fascinating!"

Resting a finger on a series of drawn, wavy lines, he follows the course. Mairlynn, unfamiliar with the symbols, watches in silence.

“Yes, yes... That looks about right."

“Do you know what that means?" She asks.

“Apparently."

“How?"

“I don't... Know..." He murmurs, losing himself in his thoughts.

“Hey. Irzain? ... Hey!" She pushes his shoulder.

“Huh?"

“Did you find what you're looking for or not?" She asks.

“I think so." He replies with a smile.

Rolling up the scrolls, he carries them toward the docks. Mairlynn quickly follows.

“What're we doing?"

“We're going to stash these safely in the boat, then go back and wait for the others... Don't worry, Mairlynn. I'm sure you'll get to hear Valan reject you again." He teases her.