Bastiano takes a minute to balance his fear of this terrible-sounding disease with his almost desperate need to follow the trial of this deepening mystery before coming out the way he knew he would. “Oh, yes! Iron Harbor! Happy to help! And absolutely, we should question our unwilling traveling companion. Maybe in the morning? I’m sure the dero attack is connected to Ordwi’s mission - I mean, I don’t really believe in coincidences. Isn’t everything connected in some way?”
He suggests that in addition to keeping the prisoner tied up, they secure the dero to the anchor (if it has been pulled up) or some immobile part of the ship in sight of anyone standing watch. “Unless someone feels confident about their ability to knock him out without killing him?”
Once that’s decided, he finds an unoccupied spot on the deck and stares up at the stars for a few minutes before pulling a book out of his pack, a travelogue by an adventurer about their journey across the Crown of the World. He doesn’t need light to read the text, but the detailed color maps are illegible using only his darkvision, so Bastiano concentrates a moment and the faint orange glow from his eyes increases a bit, providing just enough dim light to bring out the colors on the page.
The journey north at first clings to the island chain before setting out into the open sea. Art, his wounds healed by Ordwi's refreshed magical focus, peers at the sky and landmarks as much as his compass as he sets your heading. Afterward, it's a matter of maintaining course, and your primary concerns quickly become attempting to get out of the beating sunshine, rationing the supplies you brought along, and finding ways to stave off boredom. While you continue to keep watch, no further surprise attacks - at day or night - strike at your ship.
It's several days later when you see the blur of a large island build on the horizon. Art adjusts his course a little with a "Gettin' rusty..." and in just a few hours you find yourselves approaching the village of Iron Harbor.
Prominent on your approach are tall rocky cliffs framing a wide, shallow bay running east to west. Two flatter peninsulas pinch in to shelter the harbor, with the western one featuring a derelict old pier and a fishing hut , and the eastern one ending in a rocky rise topped with several rusted spires of metal . Art takes the sloop in between those two and slowly makes his way toward the main docks.
What immediately catches your eye is the large ship currently dominating this small village's dock - a large trireme painted in green and yellow and flying the flag of Xin-Eurythnia, Runelord Belimarius' capital city. Once you can pull your eyes away from the rather garish sign of New Thassilon's influence, you see the rest of the village is tidy, reserved, and plain looking, with mostly single-story stone structures with wood-shingled roofs. The two main buildings that catch your eye from the harbor are a large red-roofed building on the west side and the incongruously large dry dock that seems very out of place within this isolated community.
No sooner have you docked and begun disembarking than you see a large muscular woman in full plate striding down the pier toward you. The religiously trained among you note the symbol of Gorum emblazoned prominently on her armor. She holds up a hand to halt you and announces "I am Sister Vanda. What purpose brings you to Iron Harbor this morning?"
Vildran's anxious nature caused him to be anything but bored during this voyage. Every night he would either take the night watch or... not sleep well. He trusted his companions, but the dero had caused so much chaos and employed as-of-yet unknown means to ambush ships. Doubt and time are not a productive combination for him.
--------------------
As they pulled into Iron Harbor he starts to focus on the little details of what they see as they enter the bay. In particular the metal spires catch his eye. He squints at them and tries to spy any detail of cultural or historical significance.
He stares at them for such a long time that it's not until they've almost reached the dock that he turns around to see the large, garish ship, wincing and quickly looking away. He starts to take stock of the sights on the nearby shore, remarking to the others
That dry dock... in such a small waterside village. One would wonder if New Thassilon has purposely hidden it out-of-the-way here to work on something... interesting.
He tries to peer inside of it to see if it's concealing some work-in-progress.
--------------------
Sister Vanda's brusque greeting catches him a bit off-guard and his antennae flatten against his head. He looks to Ordwi to take the lead, as they are here aiding her. If there is a long enough pause, he will offer
We were told this place is afflicted by a spreading sickness, and we've answered a call to help look into it. His tone is not at all assertive or confident. He knows others among the group will be better at that.
As they pull towards Iron Harbor, San takes particular interest in the New Thasselon ship. "I wonder if they are here to help as well... or maybe they are a cause. Something to find out I guess."
As the armored priestess approaches, San tries to stand tall and not look intimidated. "Vildran speaks the truth. We are also escorting one Sister Ordwi. Her and her entourage were attacked on the way here. We rescued her from a band of dero and brought her the rest of the way here."
Sister Vanda listens to Vildran and San with visible skepticism, before Ordwi steps up to add "That would be me. Ordwi." She extends a hand "I was invited here to help fight the disease by Brother Blanton. Is he...?"
Sister Vanda's eyebrows rise in surprise for a moment before she offers a tight smile "I... see. He's a friend of yours then. In which case I regret to inform you he has grown quite ill. We've managed to stave off the worst symptoms, but his condition is rather precarious." She ponders for a moment before saying "Sister Ordwi was it? I'd like you to come with me to Stonehome. The sick are being treated there. You can see your friend, and then speak with Lord Ragnulf about the ways you can aid us. We can accommodate you there as well. The rest of your entourage must wait here in town."
Vildran and Bastiano both notice while she's speaking that Brother Blanton's request for help seems to have caught her very much off guard.
Ordwi nods and says "Very reasonable, very reasonable. Minimizing exposure to the ill."
Bastiano frowns. “Stay in town? But we’ll miss… I mean, as your bodyguards we won’t be much good stuck in town. Not that Sister Vanda doesn’t look capable, but we, um, we have an obligation.”
Vildran's watches Sister Vanda's reaction carefully.
She wasn't aware that Brother Blanton was able to get a letter out. Does she believe she controls communication in and out of Iron Harbor? Does she not want word of the sickness getting out, or is there some other information she's charged with protecting?
He frowns, concurring with Bastiano's sentiment.
We did come all this way to help. I trust you'll return to town daily and let us know when we can help?
Ordwi waves Sister Vanda away "One moment, I'd like to discuss with my bodyguards, if you don't mind." before she shoos you all back toward the end of the dock and out of Vanda's range of hearing.
She speaks quietly "I didn't like the way she reacted to learning Blanton sent out a request for help, and I'm getting a fishy vibe from not only her, but also from the town - and I don't mean this morning's catch. That Thassilonian ship in the harbor has to mean something, considering what you were saying about the look of the scrawl on the victims. Let's part ways here just for the day. I'll check on Blanton and see what the folks at Stonehome have to say, while you look around the village a bit and see what you can learn. Ask questions. Find somewhere to stay the night. And figure out why the ship's here. And of course, use discretion. I'll come back to town in the morning and we can talk about what we've learned. We can decide from there what our next move is."
There might not be the opportunities she would like here, but after a long voyage with little to do but practice her spells, Autumn is eager for activity. Besides, Sister Vanda’s odd reaction piques her curiosity—she senses some sort of ruse, and Asmodeus forbid that she play the role of a mark. If someone’s running a con here, she’s going to be in on it.
“Sure,” she gives a little shrug of assent to Ordwi’s suggestions. Though she plays it cool, Autumn is ecstatic that all the sick are confined to one area outside the village, and that she won’t be able to visit, even if she wanted to. “This weirdness isn’t unexpected,” she ventures in a low voice. “Remember, Blanton didn’t finish his letter. That doesn’t happen unless there’s someone who doesn’t want the letter written. It’s just a matter of ‘who’.” The sorceress shoots a concerned look at the priestess. “We’ll chat with the locals, but you be careful. Lord Ragnulf is so not an innocent bystander.”
Ordwi winks to Autumn "Certainly not an innocent bystander, and I will be careful. I have Cayden's own luck with me if I get into a spot of trouble. Though if you see an old woman running into town as fast as her feet can take her I hope you'll be ready to help out."
Vildran shudders internally.
Let's hope it doesn't come to that.
Of course we'll help. Say, it's a bit of a longshot, but is there any arcane study around this village?
San agrees, Ordwi seems to be in a good mood about it all at least. "I suppose I'll see where the inn is in this town. Sleeping in a bed sounds nice."
Bastiano glances at the sails of the ship from Xin-Eurythnia with frank curiosity. "Well, if you're sure, I expect we could find something to do."
After concluding their private conversation and returning to Sister Vanda, Autumn sweetly praises the Gorumite. “So lovely and giving of you to tend the sick. They must keep you ever so busy. How many are there at Stonehome?” She pauses, then adds, “And how far away is Stonehome, and in which direction? Of course we will wait here,” she quickly reassures Vanda, “as per your request, but we should know where to send any unfortunates who might have fallen ill.” If Ordwi is going into the lions’ den, it’d be wise to know where to find her.
Ordwi nods and whispers "Alright, tomorrow morning, right here at the docks."
You return back to Sister Vanda and Ordwi heads over to join her. When Autumn asks her questions Vanda wrinkles her brow for a moment before saying "We're caring for about a dozen, many of our own, some here from town. And if there's any others getting sick, well Stonehome is just a stone's throw away, in the hills that way." She jabs her thumb over her shoulder, pointing roughly north-east. "Now you don't cause any trouble here, alright? Me and my brothers and sisters will have our eyes on you."
She affixes you all with a steady stare to make her point and then turns snappily to lead Ordwi away from the docks. Once the two are gone, no other stern-faced Gorumites come out to bother you. It seems you have the freedom to explore the town at your leisure.
Sidonie helps out as best she can during the journey to Iron Harbor, lending a hand wherever it's needed. She sulks quite a bit though. While she may been among those to voted to Iron Harbor, it doesn't mean she's happy about the detour.
She isn't impressed with Iron Harbor when she gets a closeup look at it when the ship has docked either.
Less than half Sandpoint's size, and none of Sandpoint's charm is her mental assessment of the place.
Still, it will be nice to be able to stretch her legs on land and maybe (hopefully) get a good meal somewhere.
"Let's find a place to stay first. That way we can dump some of this gear off and not look so conspicuous. It might also be some passengers or crew are staying in the same place. It's a natural and convenient way to meet people you wouldn't normally cross paths with."
Vildran bobs his head and concedes Right. If we aren't fully armed and armored like we're ready to go to war we won't still out so much. Probably better while we investigate
He begins to look around for a passerby to ask about the nearest inn.
“Fully armed and armored.” With an arched brow, Autumn looks over herself and her belongings—she wears no armor, and her only weapon is a simple dagger sheathed at her waist, of the kind carried by many sensible travelers, for utility as much as rudimentary protection. She takes a moment to look over Vildran next—like her, he wears no armor and wields nothing more than a walking stick. The pair could easily pass as ordinary travelers with heavy packs. Indeed, the strangest thing about the elven wizard is his antennae. “Right. Ready to go to war. That’s us.”
She points at the large red-roofed building and starts making her way towards it. “Might as well try the biggest building first. Inns are usually larger.”
Autumn's comments elicit a bark of a laugh from San. Finding mirth in such a depressing situation is a refreshing change from the dreariness of this journey so far. "Well some of us aren't as adept at wielding magics and are left with more mundane protections." he replies with a grin.
The few locals you see in the streets eye you skeptically and give you a wide berth. Your few casual attempts to engage them and ask for an inn are met by quiet apologies and people hurrying off on their business. It seems you'll need a persistent and friendly demeanor to get much out of the general public .
Undeterred, you head for the large red-roofed building in hopes of that being an inn. As you approach it, you spot a small sign outside it's door labeled "Elsie's" and that the door is partly ajar. Inside, the main room smells of baked goods and the strange, bitter odors one might expect in an apothecary’s shop. The room’s decor seems undecided about whether it wants to be a tavern, a curio shop, or an alchemist’s laboratory. The low shelves that line the walls display a staggering mix of elixirs, unguents, jars of glue, fresh-baked goods, cutlery, mugs, and the occasional smokestick or bundle of tindertwigs.
Moments after you enter, a skinny halfling emerges from the back room. Her eyes light up when she sees you "Oh ho! You folks're new ain'tcha! Where you come from then? You here with the fancy ship or did some new thingum come floatin' in while I wasn't lookin'?"
Vildran chuckles at Autumn's assessment and smiles.
Yes, yes, I know. Some of us are a little less fortified than others. Thankfully spell potential is not outwardly apparent.
He laughs along with San too.
Well, at least your "mundane" armor is always there and you don't have to re-study it every morning. He gives a sheepish grin and rubs the back of his neck nervously.
To Autumn's suggestion Yes, that looks right. Let's check it out!
--------------------
Vildran seems caught off guard by so many questions from the halfling, so it's easy to be selective and perhaps a little evasive. He rubs his hands together in a nervous fidget and his antennae do the same.
Oh, well um, you seem friendlier than the people outside! They were avoiding us for some reason. No, we did not arrive on that "fancy" ship. It was already here when we arrived; we are new here. Actually, we were wondering where we might find lodging. Perhaps you have a recommendation?
“So lovely to see a friendly face,” Autumn chimes in with an easy smile, agreeing with Vildran as she inspects the merchandise. “Everyone else around here seems rather tense. Has there been trouble lately? Oh, and how much are your muffins? Did you bake them yourself? They smell delicious!” Her attention appears to be focused on shopping, and the question about trouble is as casual as a passing comment about the weather. “How clever to combine a bakery with an apothecary. I imagine business must be booming for you, especially with all the rich visitors from that fancy ship?”
San watches a master at work as Autumn weaves in burning questions with casual conversation. That's why he spends more time in research and the wilds.
After so much time on the ship, a simple baked good seems like quite the treat. He fingers the coins left in his purse, hoping a few coppers is enough for something good.
Bastiano allows the more gregarious members to take the lead asking passers-by for directions. When they are ignored (or worse), he puts up the hood on his cloak and waits a little ways off. “Just in case I’m making people uncomfortable because I look too foreign,” he mutters to Sidonie, but he relaxes a little as the others don’t seem to get any better response without him in their midst.
“Oooh, muffins!” Like San, he fingers the coins in his pouch.
Sidonie pipes in with her particular wish, adding to Vildran's request to the halfling.
"A place with good beds if there's a choice."
"Oh, no trouble lately, 'cept those Thassilonians that came in a week ago and shacked up in Stonehome. No one quite knows what to make of them. We don't have visitors round these parts barely ever. People not used to strangers. No offense to you fine folk." Elsie grins, her eyes flicking to the muffins as several of you start crowding them "Just a trio of your best coppers each for the muffins. And I do very much bake 'em myself. Not to toot my own horn too much, but they're famous 'round here."
"'Fraid I'll have to disappoint you 'bout the lodgin' though. We don't have even one inn between us here in Iron Harbor. If you're really hurtin' for a place to stay, well-" She looks your group over "-you're welcome to my shop floor. Won't be all too comfortable, but it'll be out 'a cold. Night's round here get nippy. And I'll make you folk a meal if you want it."
Sidonie's spirits fall with the news from Elsie.
More sleeping on wooden planks until whenever we finally get back to Sandpoint.
At that moment Sidonie genuinely misses Sandpoint, rather than finding it "quaint" or "amusing", her usual stance toward the town.
But, Elsie is talking, unlike everyone else in Iron Harbor apparently. Sidonie figures she'll try to make the most of it. Besides, she now a little jealous of the Thassilonians because they're probably sleeping on something nicer.
"So what's up with Stonehome anyway? Is it like a town hall of something?"
Sidonie buys a muffin.
Vildran looks around nervously with the sudden instinct that he should identify the best spot to claim.
At least it will smell nice while we rest.
Autumn also purchases a muffin, both as a means to engender goodwill and to sate a craving for something other than the limited rations they’ve had to endure aboard the ship. She takes a small bite to please her sweet tooth and exhales a dainty sigh. "Fetch.”
Although she would much prefer a soft bed, the sorceress has enough experience sleeping beyond the reach of angry towns to have brought a bedroll in her pack. With such limited options for accommodation, she gratefully accepts the merchant’s offer of the shop floor. “So wonderful of you to offer both lodging and food—you have our deepest gratitude. How ever shall we repay you?” Her emerald eyes twinkle impishly as she peruses the shop’s non-edible wares, having already devised a manner of recompense.
“Such an impressive variety of goods. Is there anything you don’t stock?” She leans over to peer at one of the low bottom shelves. “Is that a tincture of antitoxin, or antiplague? Though I don’t suppose you have much in the way of poisonous beasts or disease on this island? Oh, and are those potions? Did you create all of these yourself, or did a wizard or cleric help you? You must be very talented.”
"Stonehome? Place is run by the Gorumites. Not my deal, but I 'ppreciate the stability they bring. They like to fight and think the best person at fighting is the best person to be in charge. Seems weird to me, but it’s not my religion. Place has been quiet for the last week, though, ever since them Thassilonians showed up. Fine with me. Fewer Gorumites on the street means less clanking armor and, more importantly, less noisy praying. But still — it’s not normal for them to be shut in this long." Elsie wrinkles her nose, a little uneasy, before moving on to Autumn. "How you can repay me is by payin' for the lodgin'! I'll charge you folk 5 silver a night for the lot 'a you. You're welcome to buy something from the shop too if you really want to make my day."
"I've lots'a a things alchemical if you're interested. Mostly glues for ship makin' and dyes for just about anything. Healthy stock of medicine if that's what you're needing. Baked goods too, although those are best fresh out the oven in the morning." "I've also got my special brew! Elsie's Excellent Bottled Vim's its name." She shows off a small rack of dark brown glass bottles with her hand-written parchment labels on the front "It'll fill ya with extra spunk and cure you a any aches and pains. Ship-builders love it."
“And here I thought you were helping us out of the pure goodness of your heart,” Autumn responds in lighthearted jest. With a wink she places a silver on the counter, advance payment for her portion of the lodging. “Is ship building the main industry here then?” she asks idly, while continuing to peruse the various elixirs. “I noticed the huge dry dock you have. They must be making a very large boat?”
San digs his last silver and a few copper out and places it on the counter with a grin."I think I'll grab one of those fresh baked muffins whenever you make them. Consider this a prepayment for when the time comes."
"I'd call fishin' the main industry. But we do some business buildin' and fixin' ships. The Frodersons over at the drydock have been building ships for generations, since before they even came to Iron Harbor. You get on over there and they'll yak your ear off 'bout how they used to make boats for kings and queens." Elsie rolls her eyes. It's clearly a story she's heard many times. "These days its jus' for the locals, and for the occasional order that comes in from the Thassilonians. Place is empty right now, far as I've heard." She nods to San as she speaks.
Vildran perks up at the mention of the dry dock.
Hmm, nothing unusual there then...
Maybe we'll do that. Are they there all day, any day?
Although some of the tinctures seem useful or interesting, all of them are beyond the limited coin in Autumn’s purse. She straightens and gives Vildran the indulgent smile of a mother accommodating her child. “So inquisitive,” she playfully comments when the wizard exhibits a marked interest in the Frodersons. “You may as well tell him if he can meet any Thassilonians on their ship, or if they’ve all gone over to Stonehome. I’m sure he’d love to know what they’re like.” She adopts a gentle, teasing tone in this indirect question to Elsie.
"At the drydock? There may be someone there right now, but without too much work at the moment it prob'ly won't be the whole family. You can check if you're curious. As for the Thassilonians... well, some of 'em stayed on their ship. I see them come by now and then for something they need." Elsie shrugs, then raises an eyebrow "You know, you folks never said what brought you to Iron Harbor. Far from the rest of civilization for a bit of sightseein'."
Vildran frowns for a moment, thinking on how to reply without giving away too much detail.
It sounds like some (most?) in town are not aware of the sickness.
Well, we were on a rescue mission from Sandpoint to ensure the safety of one cleric. When we recovered her, she asked us to escort her back to her colleague, here in Iron Harbor. She's visiting with him now and we're waiting it out here in town. So far, we're kind of... the muscle?
His antennae start doing faux-pushups.
Sidonie frowns to herself at Vildran's loose tongue. She's about twice as worried now compared to before she'd heard the Gorumites had stopped coming out of Stonehome when the Thassilonians went in. Maybe the Thassilonians are just that good as company, but she doubts it.
Now Ordwi's gone in as well. It might be better if they keep a lower profile until Ordwi returns, if she returns.
Something big, bad, or both is happening...
She ponies up two silver coins. One for herself, and one to cover San.
At the sight of Vildran exercising his ‘muscles’, Autumn smiles and releases a cascade of gentle laughter. “Apparently they need some ‘alone’ time,” she elaborates to Elsie, “so we get to play tourist.” Turning to the others, she asks “Shall we see the Frodersons’ attraction now, for Vildran’s sake?”
Bastiano puts his silver coin on the counter for lodging and another for two muffins. Once Elsie gives him his change, Bastiano offers one of the muffins to San.
“Have the Gorumites all been staying in since the Thassilonians got here, or just most of them? Sister Vanda met us at the dock, but other than that, I mean. Is there bad blood between them?”
"Thanks, they do look tasty." Nodding to Autumn, "I agree, let's check out the Frodersons."
Vildran, showing his sometimes-aloofness, snaps to attention at more silver coins being handed over and fishes out one to cover himself, offering it to Elsie.
Elsie raises an eyebrow at Vildran's story as she scoops everyone's coins off the counter and doles out change as needed. "Sure sounds like you folk live some excitin' lives, and that there's more to that story! You look like you're ready to get going, but I'll be hopin' to hear the rest of it when you're back tonight." She gives a cheeky grin "Good luck then with your touristin."
"There's been fewer Gorumites out and about recently, but I see them sometimes around town. They've still got to buy food and all that. As for them and the Thassilonians... well I don't know about bad blood, but they never struck me as friends before." She shrugs. "It is a mite strange."
"Well, you lot have fun. I'll have some stew when you tire your feet out." She waves as you head out.
--------------
You head back across town, taking a short jaunt down the main road until you reach the massive enclosed drydock. The doors are wide open, so you're able to enter. Inside, you see the space is dominated by the dock itself, large enough for a fairly sizable vessel to be worked on. In addition to the dock, there are massive shelves to hold the lumber and other materials needed for work, as well as a simple crane to help move things into position. Those shelves look largely bare. While the dock itself is currently entirely empty, beached on land near the end of it is a small sailboat sporting a ragged tear in its hull. An older man sits cross-legged nearby, smoking a pipe as he looks over a few sorry looking pieces of lumber.
He looks over his shoulder as you enter, snapping a terse "What's this now?"
Taking the man’s gruff greeting in stride, Autumn steps forward and responds in an unusually sweet, conciliatory voice. “Mister Froderson? I understand that this is the place to have a ship built? A place renowned for building the most magnificent and wondrous boats, fit for royalty itself?” She smiles graciously. “For example, did your family build the Thassilonian vessel that’s in the harbor now?”
Oh? Have the Thassilonians not placed an order yet?
Vildran leans in to watch the old-timer's response. His antennae lean forward too in a subconscious reflex.
Maybe this really isn't part of their plans. You can never be too careful; or exhaustive.
San passes the time looking around at different things while Autumn and Vildran chat with the presumed Mr Froderson. "It's a shame seeing such a grand place sitting idle. I'm sure some magnificent ships launched from here. Is there anything in particular keeping business away? We heard there was some hubbub going on at Stonehome."
Autumn’s smile freezes and her eyes narrow at the old man’s response. She pauses, considering her options as a general might consider tactics. So much for yakking our ears off, she recalls Elsie’s evidently inaccurate description of the Frodersons. While the others carry on the conversation, she regroups and recalibrates her approach to one that relies less on words and goodwill.
Inspired by San’s roaming eyes, the sorceress casually strolls around the area, idly running a finger along an empty shelf and then looking at it disapprovingly. When she finally speaks her voice is even sweeter, like sugar drowned in honey. “We would love to place an order, but we would want something of the highest quality, and …” Her gaze slowly peruses the bare shelves and sorry looking lumber with pregnant meaning. “… well, not to be unkind, but there isn’t any indication that we’d find such quality here. It’s probably been ages since anything worthwhile was built at this dock. Unless you have evidence to the contrary?” Autumn fixes the old man with a challenging stare, as if daring him to prove her wrong.
Since chatting with Froderson seems to be rough going, Sidonie decides to stay out of it. She doesn't really know what she could say or do that would help. Instead she gives Bastiano's sleeve a gentle tug to get his attention and, when she has it, nods her head toward the dry dock entrance to let him know he should come with her.
Once they're back outside, Sidonie suggests an alternative for the two of them.
"I don't think things are going anywhere with Froderson, so why don't take a stroll down closer to the piers and find a place to watch the Thassilonian ship? We might see something interesting."
Without waiting for a reply, Sidonie starts walking toward the closest pier, looking for a place where they can sit and observe without being too obvious.
He sighs as the questions keep coming. He answers San with "Business comes and goes. Right now its dry, maybe tomorrow some merchant who's heard of us will come in for repairs. In any case, whatever entertainin' they're doing at Stonehome don't bother me. That's Gorumite business." He glances at Autumn with a scowl "I'd appreciate you keeping your hands off and your thoughts to yourself little girl." He was already audibly suspicious of you all, but Autumn's behavior seems to set him to fuming.
Autumn doesn't see any documents other than a few sketches and diagrams that must've come from past projects. None look particularly recent.
----
Outside, Sidonie gets an eyeful of the Thassilonian ship. A plaque on its bow identifies it as the Swordfish, and its a 75-foot long craft that sports multiple decks. Visible on the main deck are a few sailors, but they seem to be resting, chatting, and relaxing rather than keeping vigilant watch.