“You mean to say, the new King of Armada is of age?” Devan practically squealed. Or at least what could be equivalent to a squeal in his deep baritone voice. “This is indeed good story. Fire and Ice ancient rivalry! You must please write to me, I want hear story.”
Devan scuttled around excitedly, eventually he grabbed a notebook and a fancy quill. “Here, use this. I make seat for you. Ice first then fire to meet, a new twist!” Devan seemed beside himself. “I imagine you want to leave soon then.” He seemed just a touch put down by this. He went back towards Dolphus, offering the supplies he’d gathered. “Write on this paper, then hold it up and say ‘Devan’ and I will receive it.”
Mariner eventually reached the ship, and began to climb back aboard. He dumped the barrels he’d collected onto the deck, a few crew members leapt to stow them. Mariner wasn’t truely paying attention, he’d gone into his bag of medicines and retrieved a flask. Inside was the same medicine he’d given Dolphus, but in a higher concentration. Mariner drank deep, and immediately his head felt a little better. He decided to stumble below decks to sleep off his injury.