Ritelli seems to think that is hilarious. "Ahaha, I must tell it that when I next see a host! No, it is the spirit of the nation - ours generally chooses at least three hosts, of course, as Fire, Dust and Glass. One of the things it carries with it is a sense of, like, what's right to wear, what's traditional and ours?"

"We have no spirits at all, where I come from. Or hosts like you describe, either."

"Yeah, it's mostly just an Empire thing, we made them do a big ritual about it before we'd join up - otherwise we'd all be shuffling around stone halls in black and white in a dreadfully sombre fashion, after the Highborn inevitably pushed their way of life on everyone."

"Well, I'm dressed and I'm raring to fight some injustice. Do you have any advice for how I should act to keep a low profile?"

"I mean, that sounds perfect! We don't really do keeping a low profile, much - I guess the hakima will have some idea..."

Ritelli is reluctant to stop monopolising the interesting guest, but can tell he's running out of excuses to not take her back to the others.

"Well, I'm just really itching all the time. Itching to get to see my friends again, and to help innocent people. I just don't want it to blow our cover."

"Tuck a few flowers in your hair and everyone will assume you're a briar? Not that this rock is much good for flowers, and everyone here's pretty exuberant..."

Mariello's voice calls up the stairs. "Ritelli, are you in here or have you stolen our guest entirely? There will be rumours..."

Hopper instinctively starts walking down the stairs, worried at Mariello mentioning rumours.

Ritelli follows her, with a cheeky grin for Mariello at the base of the stairs. "I can't help it if I'm so devastatingly attractive..."

"Well, let's hope that you didn't distract me long enough that it'd end up losing us any hope whatsoever of help from our world."

"So, Mariello, is our plan commissioning a ship and sending me back through the portal, or will there be other steps to it I'll want to know of now?"

"My plan is to hand you over to Sofia, and maybe she deigns to send me a letter about your glorious future exploits at some stage, or it becomes obvious," replies Mariello. "I am quite happy pulling dolphin-jetsam out of the sea, I have no interest in chasing all over the Empire with Grendel half a step behind me."

Ritelli looks mildly disappointed, but doesn't say anything about it.

Sofia is standing just outside, looking quietly amused.

Hopper walks towards Sofia, curious and expectant to hear what her plan is.

"Essentially," Sofia replies. "We will proceed to the docks, I will buy us an entirely unremarkable trip to Siroc, and we will go to the Ezmara enclave.

If we are lucky, they will already have what we need, I will promise them great adventure or some mana crystals if we fail to find great adventure, and they will entertain you while they refit a vessel.

If we are not lucky, nobody will have any weirwood because it is all gone to some great opportunity, and we will need to leave them to draw up plans and make preparations while I take you on a tour of people who might be easily impressed out of their weirwood stashes, or be able to point us in such a direction."

Hopper just nods. "Are we proceeding to the docks right now, then? Your plan sounds quite excellent."

"Yes, do let's." She starts heading off down the road. Ritelli looks wistfully after the two of them, but does not move to follow.

Hopper starts walking behind Sofia, giddy with excitement. She manages to conceal her excitement when the docks come into view, doing her best at seeming like a totally ordinary person passing through.

As they get onto the path and away from the settlement, Sofia says conversationally, "So, we have a few minutes before we will encounter anyone else. Let me give you a few brief pointers.

Our national motto, of sorts, is - life may be short, so let it never be dull.

You will need a name to go by, unless you would like to play entirely mute. 'Hopper' is too obviously foreign. It would be distasteful for you to use a tribe name, even if it would be better cover, but you should have a first and a family name, and people will assume you married into the Coast - some of them do insist on adopting the tribe name now, but by no means all.

Would you like to name yourself and your family in the style you have heard here, or shall I assign you something appropriate?"

"Assign me something; I'm worried about accidentally choosing a silly or unexpected name, and I don't quite understand the naming conventions here."

"Okay. Hmm. Huppera i... Do you actually have a family name, or anything similar? Maybe the name of a place, or a group, you are attached to?"

Sofia does not seem comfortable at all with the task of 'just making something up'.

"It's common to use the name of our mother if our given name is insufficient. The name of my mother is Lara, so that'd make for a sensible last name I'm already used to."

"Huppera i Lariae, then. If you're comfortable with that. It has the shape of your names but the cadence of ours."

"It's all the same to me, really. Now, I'm really quite curious to see whether getting a ship that can reach the portal ends up working as straightforwardly as we wished for it to."

"While we are waiting for the vessel, I will round up as many Iridescent Keys as I can get hold of - they should allow passage through the portal for those who cannot themselves cast, if it is passable at all.

Ideally we would take you somewhere to practice with one, but I do not know offhand of a chambered regio within reach of Siroc."

The docks are full of determined, if somewhat anxious activity. Ships ranging from tiny rowed fishing boats and small swift sailed couriers, to fat-bellied ocean-going cargo ships, are huddled in the calm natural harbour, sheltering both from the wider Bay beyond and the impressive collection of sails looming on the horizon - the Grendel fleet.

"This season, we renew the treaty," Sofia explains. "Many are packing themselves up, so they may flee if the Empire gives them Madruga to save Necropolis, like they have Feroz to save Sarvos."

"I think it'll be fine if you explain to me how to use an Iridescent Key to pass through the portal. It doesn't sound like you'd expect me to fail without it."

"And why would you flee if you were given Madruga? Is that some kind of terrifying new imposition? Feroz to save Sarvos, I think you're vastly overestimating how much context I have here. Can you please explain local politics in slightly more detail?"

"Ah, I apologise! We here are in the Brass Coast, a nation within the Empire - I believe some outside call it the Casinean Empire for clarity, although that gives the Highborn more credit than they deserve.

The great fleet on the horizon is, alas, not of the Empire, but of the Grendel - a collection of pirates and thieves and slavers, who have been allowed to dominate the Bay of Catazar because the Empire also fights many other enemies - the Jotun who rampage even now through our mountains, the Druj who pillage and torture on the Empire's eastern flank, and uneasy peace with the magical tyrants of the far north and the god-worshipping slavers of the Iron Confederacy.

We signed a treaty for a cease to the war with the Grendel - they had sacked and burnt Sarvos, a great League city further down the coast - and the Empire gave away our land, the territory of Feroz, to have Sarvos returned.

Now the fleets of the Grendel are amassed against Siroc and Necropolis - that is a territory of the Highborn, where the Thrones are interred - and many fear the Empire will again give of our land, this time Madruga - on which we presently stand, and which also encompasses Siroc and the lands around - to save Necropolis from the fate of Sarvos."

She tells this almost distantly, like a recital of a story, rather than like an immediate threat to everyone in the vicinity.