"Underwater fashion never gets boring", she thinks, as she's gradually pulled by the invisible thread. She smiles and takes several deep breaths, the mask filling her lungs with clean, fresh air, as the stream of the water she's being pulled through lifts her flowing, white dress behind her. It creates waves of white fabric that cascade, creating a beautiful image of a mermaid dragging a strip of ethereal fabric behind her... But suddenly, she feels gravity strengthen.

This doesn't make sense? Hopper falls through the portal, gasping several times as she is stunned when she slams into the water. Finally her head surfaces, giving her a view of... medieval boats? This looks like a miserable reenactment! They would at least try to reenact something with cannons. She looks around, trying to understand the bizarre situation. Did someone drug her? How the hell did she go from enjoying just smiling while being pulled by an underwater thread, to this?

There is a shimmer in the sky above her which looks considerably out of place; perhaps she can get back through it, at some point, if she can get all the way up there.

She hasn't attracted the attention of a vessel yet, but after a few moments she will be able to see a trio of dolphins changing course towards her. Otherwise, here it's just the sea, and relatively calm at that.

She looks at the trio of dolphins, on alert. There are no trained dolphins in Thomassia; this is just magic. Or a hallucination. But people hallucinating get sedated to make it obvious (it's REALLY uncomfortable to suspect that you're hallucinating), and someone would have given her the sedative by now. Hopper just looks at the dolphins, unwilling to wave; she wouldn't know what a hostile gesture would look like, so she stands as still as possible while looking at the dolphins, somewhat tense.

The dolphins circle her curiously - she is a somewhat weird spectacle and seems to not be in immediately danger - and then one approaches, cautiously, as the other two glide around her. If she doesn't interrupt it, the dolphin will gently nudge her with its nose and make a clicking sound.

Hopper just looks at the dolphin, doing her best to try understanding what it wants. Where does it nudge her? How? Is it pushing her somewhere? What's the tone of the clicking sound, does it sound happy? What about the other dolphins; are they forming a perimeter, or just casually gliding through the water? Thoughts rush through her head as she tries to understand the situation. She wonders whether it would make sense to introduce herself or start talking, but waits until she gets an idea of what the dolphins are doing.

It nudges her gently on the arm, and when this works for it, it clicks again and tries to tuck itself under her arm, as if she might want to use it as a weirdly awkward float.

It's pretty difficult to interpret dolphin noises but in context they appear to be something like 'letting you know I'm here and about to try touching you'?

The other dolphins are just casually staying in the area, maybe keeping a look out?

Hopper easily treads the water; when she isn't tied to a thread holding her down, her drysuit can be very buoyant indeed. She doesn't get why the dolphin would want to tuck itself under her arm, but she lets it do so anyway. Hopper looks around, wanting to know if the dolphins respond in with approval as she makes it obvious that she's contemplating heading towards one of the vessels that aren't too far away.

Once the dolphin is in position with no resistance, one of the other two approaches her other side; if she lets thst one in too, they then start attempting to swim off with her in a specific direction, which does not seem to be directly towards the nearest vessel.

The dolphins were clearly well-intentioned enough to attempt to rescue her. The vessels are an unknown factor; she elects to trust the dolphins as they swim off with her. She quickly turns on the surface breathing valve on her mask, knowing that there's no point to wasting any of her oxygen supply. She could make a killing off salvaging sunken ships, so she wants to preserve as much of it as possible; she does not want to live how people at this tech level tend to live.

The dolphins carry her with increasing rapidity, avoiding all the naval traffic, and approach a set of islands, skillfully avoiding a number of hazards to navigation (mostly rocks, some shipwrecks); on approaching a nice sandy beach, they give her one last shove of momentum towards it and peel off to head back out of sea, emitting a trilling noise which is probably happy, by their playful demeanour as they depart.

The beach looks deserted, but there is a clearly intentional if rather nerve-wracking set of steps carved into the cliffside.

Hopper walks up the steps, seeing nowhere else to go. She's happy to get a chance to take her mask off, now that she's away from any water; it's not designed to be comfortable for extended wear, only to give an unobstructed view of your face when yuo do your underwater catwalk. She has masks that are much better for doing that. Her clothing is designed to dry quickly and never get in the way when walking around; she's glad that she's not in the kind of dress that might get in her way as she makes her way up the stairs.

When she's got about halfway up, she may spot nervous faces peering over the edge; she seems to be doing fine, and isn't an entire Grendel raiding party or anything, so their owners wait anxiously at the top rather than getting in her way.

There are three people waiting for her as she makes her way up to the clifftop - all of them are in vividly dyed robes with actually quite a lot of embroidery, gemstones etc for the apparent tech level.

One is additionally in a bright gold coloured suit of scale mail and holding a bhuj in a manner that suggests she knows how to use it; another has antlers poking out of his head wrap and is holding a big fluffy towel; the third is younger than the others, has a patch of bark apparently growing out of his cheek, and seems to be ready to run at any sign of trouble, presumably for backup.

"You okay down there?" calls the one with the towel as soon as she's in reasonable shouting range. "It's a bit tricky to have more than one person on the stairs or we'd come and help - I'm sure you've got a good story in trade."

"It's just stairs? My dress really doesn't get in the way, and if I go slow, I'll be pretty safe. I don't get why one of you holds a weapon of some kind and another a towel. I'd expect both of you to be wielding towels, this close to a beach." Hopper keeps making her way up, keeping a steady pace, guaranteeing that she doesn't slide or make a wrong step.

"Amusingly enough I probably have more good stories to trade than almost anyone from where I came from. I wouldn't even know which one to tell."

They all give her plenty of space to get up the last few steps and onto land, although the one with the bhuj looks like she might be ready to intercept her if she runs off.

The towel holder proffers the towel, then he notices she isn't actually sopping wet and looks a bit confused. "Sorry - did you come in from the sea or from round the coast somewhere? We were expecting you to be... Damper."

"I came from a tank of water with transparent sides. I also came from a world where clothing is designed so that their wearers can wear them through water without being wet or weighed down. But I reached this island coming from the sea, if that's why you asked that question. Now, would you please give me some context? I have no idea about anything that's happening here, and I want to do more than just walk around in total confusion. My current gear would be very useful for salvaging treasures; I mention it because it's my best idea for what to do."

"...who put you in a tank of water?

Oh, sorry, where are my manners! You have washed up on the shores of Atalya, in the Brass Coast, part of the Casinean Empire? I am Mariello i Shantelle i Riqueza, local sutannir and recognised busybody. My friends here are Cavella," he indicates the lady with the weapon, "and Ritelli," indicating the twitchy runner.

"Do let us take you down to the parador - it is much more pleasant than standing around on the clifftop, there will be seats, and drinks, and I'm sure you've stories enough to entertain in recompense."

"Well, I suspect I would. I'm not terribly hungry at the moment, but I'm sure I'll enjoy trying out the local cooking and learning about the local peoples."

Hopper just follows Mariello, taking a closer look at Cavella and Ritelli, wanting to know if there's anything she can gleam from their body language or outfits. Just how much richer than the locals are these people, she wonders? It's hard to imagine a world before cannons where gems like those worn by these people would be as ubiquitous as gems have become back on Thomassia.

Cavella is clearly suspicious - she continues to be prepared to dish out violence at any moment, and also keeps looking around as if enemies might leap from the sparse bushes at any moment.

Ritelli seems kind of disappointed that he didn't have to sprint off, and clearly wants to go faster than Mariello but also wants to stay close enough to hear everything.

Mariello is more nervous than he's putting on - this clearly isn't going as he'd planned, in some respect.

All of them look healthy - well, possibly apart from whatever is going on with Ritelli's face, he sometimes grimaces around the bark and even reaches up absently to scratch it - and all well fed, although Ritelli's a bit stringy, it's more like he's burnt off everything with excess nervous energy rather than being undernourished. They even have much nicer teeth than one might expect in a medieval society.

Their clothes do seem to be designed almost tolerably well, although there are limitations in cut and style consistent with a lack of mechanisation, and Cavella's armour is clearly a little restrictive of her movements and not optimally weight distrubuted; the clothing materials look like silk and cotton. The most implausible part from a technology angle is the variety of vibrant colours - the sunlight here is bright and relentless, if they're out in this a lot then you'd expect at medieval technology levels the colours would fade quickly.

These are people who could reasonably expect violence. They still own gems, body armor, fine weapons, and are inviting her to some kind of dinner. Mariello is in some way inconvenienced in by her appearance; perhaps they were planning on ingratiating themselves with the towel? (Why would they know to have a towel ready at the top of the stairs?)

Hopper quickly concludes that they aren't particularly respectful of the equal freedoms of all sentient beings, and that she'd want to lead some kind of revolt to unseat their rule. She quietly follows them to the parador, wanting to know as much as possible about the political structure and balance of power before proceeding. She wanted to run around playing a soldier with a gun and a flag, not liberate an oppressed people!

The dyes are too good; either the clothes get replaced often or the dyes are special in this world. She tries to see if there's any hint that the clothes are worn, or if they're frequently replaced or re-dyed.

"You said you were expecting me to be damper. Why were you expecting me to show up at all? Are there an unusually large amount of people showing up to this beach, for some reason?"

Hopper tries to think of anything that might support or oppose her theory that they were planning on making or using the portal she appeared through, thinking back on the first time she saw the trio.

"Oh, Ritelli ran to get me when his patrol saw you coming in; it is a fairly popular place for lost sailors to wash up. Labyrinth knows, the Grendel have caused enough dead sailors around here, it's not surprising there are friendly dolphins."

Ritelli's clothes have worn patches and frayed edges here and there; it's hard to tell in the skilful embroidery, but it looks like Mariello's might have been repaired in a couple of places and the patching hidden by decoration? Cavella's robes have some wear spots around where the armour doesn't sit perfectly, but also she is inclined to stare back somewhat aggressively if she catches Hopper staring at her. (Mariello is also by far the most bejewelled, with Ritelli's beading probably mostly being paste on further inspection, although well polished, cut and coloured.)

The first time she saw the trio, she was already a significant way up the steps; their story isn't implausible on timing, especially as they fairly quickly reach a cluster of adobe buildings which appear to be the destination. One of them has a cheerfully orange and yellow striped awning up, and contains multiple small round wooden tables with chairs around them, with another person - this one has ram's horns - perched on a tall stool, behind a long bar. The barkeeper's clothes are not quite as elaborate as Mariello's, but on a level with Ritelli's.

There appear to be no other patrons, but it does look like it's the middle of the day, if the position of the sun is any guide. There are a few other people visible here and there about the settlement as a whole - all of which are wearing quite bright colours, although the younger they are, the less gemstones they seem to have incorporated.

"Welcome to the Shantelle parador! Do take a seat, would you like the alcoholic or non alcoholic syrah, any other preferences I should know before getting you something to drink?"

The actual seats of the chairs are cushioned, again with a variety of brightly dyed fabrics; the backs are just wooden.

Hopper just sits down. "Zero alcohol; drinking alcohol is a romantic gesture in the culture I come from, so I only really use it when I want a date night to be more fun. Try to not have too powerful a taste, please." She sits down in front of the bar, thinking to herself.

"This is the first time I've heard of Grendel. Why would they want to cause the death of sailors? At least thinking of my world's history, captains usually did their very best to capture enemy ships, and being a sailor had surprisingly low odds of violent death. Wouldn't the same logic also apply here?" Hopper is extremely excited to learn what syra is and tastes like, as she looks around curiously. Is she able to see any kind of farm in the distance? She's expecting this to be an agricultural settlement.

There are some vegetable patches, fruit trees and herb gardens; there were a few hardy looking sheep here and there along the clifftop, and the settlement has chickens just wandering about the streets, but no serious cereal farming or similar is in evidence. There are a couple of covered wagons (and a lot more handcarts) parked up here and there, again with unreasonably bright colours - although some of these do look a little faded - and a long-horned ox contentedly munching on some hay which does not look much like the local sparse grasses. The gentle upward slope makes it hard to see much beyond the immediate area, but there does seem to be a dusty road extending onwards over the brow of the hill.

All of this is visible on the way in; the parador is on the edge of the cluster of buildings, and mostly just looks out on the unimproved scrubland towards the cliffs.

The bar does have a few seats, but the people seem surprised that she's taken one of those rather than a seat at a table; Mariello somewhat awkwardly takes a seat next to her, while Cavella leans against the entranceway - still watching out for anything else that might be coming - and Ritelli hovers awkwardly, like he thinks someone is going to tell him to go away soon, but hopes that they don't remember to do so.

The barkeeper pours an amber liquid into a tall glass from a round glass vessel, and tops it up with a generous scoop of shaved ice from a compartment under the bar, before pushing it in her direction. It mostly tastes of apple juice lightly spiced with cardamom and cinnamon, although there's another distinct herbal taste which is less easy to identify; it would be quite rich without the ice, but the generous helping of ice has watered it down to less powerful levels.

"Oh, the Grendel often don't want to cause the deaths of the sailors - they'd much rather take them home as slaves. The sailors often have other feelings about that."

Hopper takes a few breaths, before snapping into focus. She's seen a lot of simulated awfulness in her reenactments, so she manages to take this far better than the overwhelming majority of Thomassians would. "Oh, OK. I'll want to find the portal back to my home, then. They'll want to hear about this and do something about it, quite badly. I remember roughly where I came from; I'm just worried about how I'll be able to get back up there. I'm just a strong pair of hands, and I can't possibly help many people without help from my fellow Thomassians."

Hopper thinks about some of the ships she saw, and the portal she fell out of; would the height of the crow's nest on one of the ships let her reach the portal? Perhaps she'd be able to reproduce gunpowder and cannons! She learned a lot about smoothbore weaponry in her many years of reenactment, and the might of gunpowder weaponry was claimed to have ended the feudal order. She knows that she could do a lot to help these people, with her years of experience using technology their foes would be entirely unfamiliar with.

It's not trivial to work out the distance from a shimmering portal in the sky of uncertain size, while treading water in an unfamiliar sea - but it was probably a bit higher than the tops of even the tallest ships, alas.

"Ah, you came through a portal? I suppose that would make sense... do you know which Realm you came from, if there's a - pocket, I think they call it - and how long it will be open for? I expect people will pay for the portal's location, if they can open it and investigate what's on the other side."

Cavella stiffens, like she thinks her suspicions have been partly vindicated; she says something quietly to Ritelli, if Hopper's hearing is good she'll hear, "go fetch the hakima!". Ritelli sprints off round the corner, in the general direction of the road.

"The name of the planet I came from is Homeworld. I have no idea what a Realm or pocket is, or how long the portal will be open for; I was just being slowly dragged through water before suddenly falling down into the middle of the ocean. The portal is a bit further off the sea than the tallest ship I've ever seen," Hopper points at the hill, pointing to roughly how far above the water she remembers the portal being, "so that makes things just ever so slightly difficult. Presumably, it won't be long before the world knows of our portal. The scary part would be someone being able to guard it, controlling access and preventing Thomassians from showing up to help. The other side has a lot of seriously amazing technologies, so access to the portal would be spectacularly valuable."

Thomassian noise regulations are extreme; they're all about avoiding permanent damage, and hearing loss remains irreversible, so thomassians universally have near-perfect hearing. She'd hear Ritelli being told about the hakima, but reacts with confusion. "Wouldn't you want Mariello to know as well?"

"Know what?" Mariello looks confused. "Cavella..."

"I just sent Ritelli off to fetch a hakima," Cavella admits. "I think this might be bigger than just us."

"Oh, that's fine," replies Mariello cheerfully. "Hakima know how to pay for a find.

As for guarding the place - if it's out to sea, I'm sad to admit the Grendel have us beat on that. We tried fielding a war fleet against them, once a long time ago and once fairly recently; you can see the last one's remains down in the ruined harbour... We're at peace for now, but if there's a hole in the sky that rains Prosperity... I don't know what would happen."

"The Grendel would try to trick the Thomassians into giving them weapons and tools for oppression. Lucky for us, I doubt they'd succeed. We could have a chance to reach the portal and contact the other side before they return, if we act quick enough. And if they were able to send a fleet to guard the portal before we could reach it, I might be able to hit them with a sufficiently powerful surprise attack; this doesn't look like a world where people worry about someone being submerged under water for 2 full hours to ambush them, and I think I could do a lot of damage in those 2 hours. There are many paths to victory yet; I don't there are words that can describe how urgent it is to find a ship capable of reaching the height of the portal."

"How are you at fighting sharks underwater? We did try the diving trick with some Merrow, but the Siahka heralds are better at it.

That... does sound like we might want to start walking and meet the hakima half way, yes. How obvious is this portal from a distance? The Grendel have a lot of fleets out in the Bay but at worst they'll be looking for weather patterns, even the trained Varushkan birds don't like getting too far from shore."

"Sharks must be the one thing I haven't tried fighting underwater yet! Why would it have to be sharks, of everything to fight underwater? And I'm not sure what, exactly, the Siahka heralds were better at. You mean attacking Grendel ships while hiding under the surface of the water? Oh, and the portal blended in relatively well with the clouds, actually. It looked like the start of a lightning bolt, occasionally flying through the clouds; you'd need to be paying very close attention to find it without knowing where it is." Hopper just starts walking in the same direction as Ritelli, not wanting to waste any time in seeing the hakima as urgently as possible.

"Eating people who were trying to attack Grendel ships underwater, mostly. The Grendel are happy to propitiate her with blood and violence, we're generally a bit less keen on the whole indiscriminate violence thing. And should be more careful of Eternals in general, not that you'd know that from the huge statue of Elionaris they built."

Mariello bustles forwards and joins Hopper in heading towards the road - there is only one road out of this place; Cavella does not look all that happy to be on the move again, where it's harder to keep a good look out, but just follows along without making her feelings known verbally.

Soon the road crests the hill and provides a useful view down across the rest of the island. There is a much larger settlement on the other side of the island, which has a lovely natural harbour that is slightly marred by a considerable expanse of burnt ex-docks.

There is still a bustling port area full of various trading and fishing vessels, often with orange or otherwise flame coloured sails - not as bright as the clothing, but still somewhat notable.

An enormous, square built, white and gold lighthouse guards the other side of the natural harbour, on what looks like a separate, smaller island. There are also a few other clusters of adobe structures here and there. Open courtyards, flat roofs, carefully tended herb gardens and fruit trees seem to be popular; there is little sign of larger scale agriculture.

Ritelli is just about visible, thanks to the brightly coloured outfit, just about to enter the outskirts of the larger town. Brightly coloured fabrics seem to be very prevalent in general across the whole town. There does not seem to be a town wall or similar, despite Cavella's concerns about violence.

Hopper has thoughts rushing through her head. The super-tall ship is option 1; she tries to think about bombs, grenades, guns, cannons, because error margin is good. What she knows of warfare from her many reenactments. She just continues on her path, hoping that the hakima is capable of helping her get back to her portal. It's not just that she knows she needs more help to save these people; she wants to go home, and strategize, and have familiar surroundings and everything!

"The docks seem to be in bad shape, and I'd expect any ship we were upgrading to be similar. How quickly are we going to get this done? And what will it take to get it?" Hopper finds the continued absence of staple food production suspicious, but keeps her thoughts to herself. An island that's torched and ravaged by a slaver empire, yet feels no need to make its own grain, is one she doubts she'll understand. She tries to think of as many of the different weapons she's seen so far. Do they seem like they're even close to sufficient machining to start making smoothbore gun barrels?

"Oh, the great shipyard was burnt years ago now; it's a condition of our treaty," which he sounds very bitter about, "not to rebuild it. I don't think you'll be building what you need in Atalaya; I expect they'll ship you over to Siroc, although that's dangerously close to occupied territory - the docks there actually have some defences, though.

I'm not a shipbuilder myself; just a small town sutannir; I imagine the hakima will know more. There are ways of getting things built fast, but I don't know if any of them apply to ships; and I suppose you'll be needing a lot of weirwood... if you're unlucky, you'll have to go to Anvil about it, but I hope the hakima can sort things out without going that far."

As for metallurgy and machining - there's a lot of excellent craftsmanship on show, but it all has a rather hand-crafted look, and favoured metals seem to be brass and bronze - although Cavella's bhuj has got at least a good steel edge, and is possibly steel with a bronze-look finish? It's hard to tell from the limited evidence so far, really.

"How would we want to proceed, to build a boat able to reach the portal, quickly, and before we can be detected doing so? What kind of resources and tools do we have access to? Would we be able to hide its construction or purpose, in some way? I'm thinking of telling the story of me being a noble from a distant land, wanting to look down from the crow's nest, having rebuilt an existing ship to be both taller and more comfortable. A cover story might give us more time and privacy to finish the ship."

Hopper is carrying her clothes and her phone, in a waterproof pocket of her drysuit; her phone is likely worthless, and Hopper seriously doubts that she'd be able to sell her dress and other layers for enough to refit a ship so that it would let her reach the portal. But it sounds like the start of a plan, at least.

"Well, the things you need are the materials, some shipbuilders who are crazy enough to try it, and a shipyard for them to work in. Materials are going to be expensive, although I hear they fished a load of weirwood out of the Broc so you might be lucky there. You might find someone in Atalaya who'll design and build for you, but they're mostly traditionalists, you'd have a better chance in Siroc.

I don't know much about tools for this, but Siroc is the best place in the Empire for building experimental ships. You might be able to disguise it as just some wacky idea that someone decided to see if they could pull off, they're always up to that kind of thing.

Nobles... aren't popular in these parts. You could pose as a Herald but that's likely to draw attention, although it'll handily explain away any odd behaviour. I reckon the hakima can put you in touch with someone who can pass it off as their own inspiration... Your outfit stands out a mile though, nobody here would wear something that elaborate in white, I suppose at least it's not black... Heralds are expected to dress weird, maybe the hakima will have a better idea of what you should pose as, or we can just stick that in a bag and dress you in some proper clothes if it won't make you itch..."

Ritelli has got a bit further into town, exchanged a few words and a coin or two with some eager children, and ducked into an outlying parador which might contain his quarry.

"It seems like Siroc has everything! I think it'd help to have a look around the city in person, see what kinds of people exist and which of my other ideas might be useful. The herald idea seems great; I just don't know what I'd be the herald of, is the thing. I'm extremely unfamiliar with this world, so I don't have the faintest idea of what heralds might act like. Hopefully, I can just act like my weird self and be considered the herald of something-or-other."

"Oh, and I'm not very worried about changing into proper clothes. I'm wearing a special suit that covers my body from my toes to my neck under this dress, so anything scratchy won't even touch my delicate skin. I was going to ask whether we'd be able sell the dress I'm wearing for a significant amount of money; I could easily change out of it and into something more fitting, if avoiding the attention my clothing would bring proved necessary."

Hopper is excited to see the hakima. She wants to know what plan they'll end up on, so she can jump into liberating the suffering, mistreated sentient beings on this world.

"It's literally the hakima's job to know about Eternals, they'll be able to pick you out someone suitable; I could say whatever names came to mind, but it would probably not be helpful!

You'll have trouble selling the dress here except as some kind of curiosity - usually we avoid white fabric, it symbolises poverty - even though getting something that white and keeping it that way is actually quite difficult! I could see the Sarvosi going for it, perhaps - they'd dress it up with a lot more unnecessary frills and lace if they were going to wear it, but they'd be fascinated by it as Interesting New Fashion.

It might not be a bad idea to go to Sarvos, if the hakima think it's too dangerous in Siroc - we do have most of a Grendel fleet parked on the doorstep, which is going to make it harder to keep construction hidden from them..."

Ritelli has found someone! They're also brightly dressed but with more blues in amongst the flame colours. They're both starting back up the road; Ritelli keeps trying to pick up the pace, but whoever he's acquired is determined to walk at a reasonable pace rather than break into a jog.

Hopper waits for the person dressed in blue and flames. She's waiting to learn more about this world before deciding on her plans; she isn't close to familiar enough to know what the right plan might be. She just feels a pang of sympathy for the plight of the slaves she's heard mentioned; her years of reenactment experience and reading many stories of misery still didn't prepare her for learning about those things happening to real people, right now.

Eventually, they meet each other on a nondescript patch of dusty road. The hakima looks at Hopper with considerable curiosity. Her robes are not dripping in precious stones like the others, but she has gold in her headdress and the silks she wears are clearly of a very high quality.

"So! Mysterious stranger, I am Sofia i Riqueza of the Riqueza hakima; I hope that I will be pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Everyone who's made me an acquaintance have been quite happy, and I'm sure you'll be next. I came from a portal, as you might suspect from my unusual attire. I want to help ease suffering and end slavery, and I like to hope that you'll be able to find a way for me to use the prosperity of my homeworld to help every last person in this. I'd insist on keeping the secrets of my homeworld to myself at the moment; just know that it would make for a fantastic refuge for anyone ending up with a new, strange illness."

"Are you willing to tell me which Realm, or even perhaps which Eternal, you are aligned with? I'm suspecting Spring and Irrah Harah from that description, not that that's a bad thing.

Did you come with a specific offer in mind, or are you asking for ideas of where you might be helpful?"

"I haven't heard of Realms or Eternals! Unless something happened in my sleep before getting here, I'm not aligned with anyone!"

"I do have a few ideas for plans, it's just that all of them begin after my return through that portal. And all of them require complete secrecy to have much chance of success. I don't want to say anything more than that. I would offer using my equipment to salvage sunken treasures, but I suspect that there are probably tons of people better than me at it, anyway."

"We do have a great number of sunken treasures, and if you can retrieve things from the ocean depths that may well be very useful.

Do you require secrecy from those here gathered, or only from other listening ears? In the middle of an open plain is often the best place to talk of matters that should not travel far."

"I can't find treasures from the ocean depths, but I know very many people who could. I was hoping that there was a ship sunken somewhere that it would be a nightmare to recover it with a diving bell, but not much deeper than that.

I don't actually need secrecy from you; it's just considered bad luck to begin on a plan with an extremely important and risky step before that step has been taken. Doing so has cursed my fellow citizens many times, and I'd rather not risk finding out that there really is some bizarre curse triggered by such premature planning."

"Are you going to tell me what this important and risky step is, or would you like me to guess?"

"Would you enjoy guessing? I wouldn't want to take away your pleasure!

Well, I was going to start planning that important and risky step with you: building a ship sufficient to take me back through the portal. It's quite far up in the sky; I was told we'd need weirwood and to modify a ship to make it possible to reach the height of the portal."

"That does sound like quite an undertaking, yes. Have you specifications for exactly how high? You've come to the right nation for an adventurous ship-building project, but fair warning, I suspect those who might be persuaded to part with their weirwood are going to want more of an explanation."

Hopper learned to get a really good feeling for distances during her reenactment work, and tried to catch as many details as possible after landing in the ocean; she can describe the distance to the portal fairly accurately.

"I'd be able to promise those giving up the weirwood a life of divine luxury and plenty on the other side of the portal; do you think that I'd have to offer them something more, as well? It sounds like something quite a bit more valuable than my reassurances!"

"I expect they will be inclined to be sceptical of such an offer, but the opportunity to explore the other side of the portal may well be sufficient, assuming that one does not need to leave one's soul behind to pass through?

If your desire is to end slavery, you are much more likely to be successful in gathering resources if you can offer some concrete examples of possible assistance with that grave issue; the Grendel threat hangs heavy over us all, with the treaty being up for renewal this season, and Feroz under their dominion."

"I suspect I have my soul on me now, after going through the portal? A chance to explore the other side is something I could absolutely give them.

And I'd need help from the other side of the portal, to be able to offer assistance with the slavery issue. My main idea for ending slavery is one I expect to work, no matter the treaty or the situation of Feroz. It's just an idea that has to remain hidden from the Grendel, or it would fail disastrously."

"...Mariello, you're the kind of sutannir who knows the ceremony of Insight, right? Do you have some liao on you?

Stranger - do you have a name that you would rather I use? - would you mind us performing Insight on you? It seems like it might clear up any confusion about the variety of being that you are, and the usability of this portal to the ensouled."

Mariello reaches into a well-hidden pocket and draw out a vial of purple liquid.

Hopper just stands still and agrees. She's not sure what it means, but it doesn't sound painful or scary, so how bad could it be?

"My name is Hopper. It sounds like whatever you're doing would be incredibly valuable; go ahead."

Mariello uncorks the vial, tips a little onto each wrist as if it is perfume, and inhales deeply of the scent, which smells a little like incense; her pupils go wide, and she looks deeply into Hopper's eyes, a somewhat unnerving level of eye contact - and there's something more, a powerful sense of being observed.

"As Riqueza voyaged the ocean, I voyage to the heart of the person; as Riqueza found a new land, I will find what lies beneath..."

She goes slightly cross-eyed for a moment, then recovers swiftly.

"Congratulations, you have a perfectly normal human soul."

"Yep, suspected that the portal let souls travel, too. So we can be sure that anyone would be able to cross to the other side; being unable to send people across would hugely complicate things, so it's quite practical that it proved unnecessary.

Now, how are we to prepare for the return trip? It appears we would want a cover story, and a plausible source of funds; I'd like to hear more about the idea of claiming that I was a Herald. Would there be any type of Herald that would want to look down at the world from a tall vantage point on a boat?"

Sofia is clearly somewhat taken aback that Hopper is, in fact, a normal human, but recovers very quickly; her demeanour gets a little more informal and friendly.

"I'd rather not tell anyone anything than tell them a direct lie - you might not have encountered our people before, but we really don't like lying, it damages the soul. Being obnoxiously mysterious is a hakima speciality, though.

Unless you happen to have enough of a shipbuilding plan to know exactly how much weirwood we need, I think our next stop is probably some shipwrights who can tell us what we'll be looking at...

...in the interests of not tripping over more bad assumptions - how big is the place beyond the portal? The normal kind of portal that I am used to dealing with goes to a Realm pocket, which is strongly aligned with a magical Realm - unless it's the Hall of Worlds, I suppose - and at the absolute largest, something like a small island, certainly no larger than the island we're on right now."

"Vaguely the same size as this world; likely larger."

"...right."

Sofia looks kind of conflicted. She doesn't want to accuse the nice, seemingly very open person of lying. Certainly the outfit she's wearing is quite something, which supports her story of being some wholly new phenomenon. But the Empire has plenty of human enemies who would cheerfully lie - although to what end, she's not sure. 'Wasting a bit of weirwood on a wild goose chase' seems like a rather odd objective.

Well, she can introduce her to some people, not directly vouch for her, and see what proof she digs up when they ask for it. Wasting the time of a few shipwrights on what is at least an interesting tale is hardly the worst outcome. Mariello is going to want considerable payment for delivering this, but she can probably just get someone to enchant all the Shantelle herb gardens, and it will be good for everyone.

"So, shipwrights. This is rather a tradeoff of secrecy and effectiveness. The Ezmara enclave in Siroc is where I would normally go for this kind of thing; they are very keen on experimental designs and probably already put together plans for something that was too tall to be practical. But there is a Grendel fleet anchored just off Siroc, and they seem to think we would like to trade with them, so the streets of Siroc are likely infested with Grendel merchants. Nobody will be being particularly open with them, but we would want to disguise you better, at the very least.

There are plenty of fine shipwrights in Atalaya, and fewer Grendel, although a few of them may have come ashore here as well; but they are, by and large, traditionalists, which is good for getting ordinary things done, but not so good for speculative work.

Or I suppose we could journey to Sarvos. Sarvos was sacked by the Grendel and I'm fairly sure any that dare set foot in that port would be robbed naked by mountebanks before they had left their boats, treaty or no treaty; after all, we would clearly pursue the common criminals that did such a thing, what can you expect in a city of the League, and so on. I have fewer contacts there, and they do not intrinsically respect my position, but 'a life of divine luxury and plenty' is likely to be quite a popular selling point.

If we are going there, I would want to ask around in Atalaya before we headed out, for someone who knows the League better than I do; a lot of friendships were forged in the recent raid on a citadel of slavers, so it shouldn't be hard to find someone trustworthy who can make useful introductions."

"Beyond the question of secrecy, we need to ask about speed. The shipwrights of Atalaya could easily risk the Grendel having sufficient time to discover the portal by themselves, leaving us without access to it. Unless they are absolute maniacs, a Grendel fleet wouldn't chase some random ship, letting us reach the portal further ahead of them than any other option.

I believe that we will simply find a curious shipwright, entice him to retrofit the boat we seek, and proudly own a brand new ship, with a record-breaking, yet practically useless, crow's nest; in the eyes of its eccentric new captain, the greatest ship to sail the seas. Wouldn't that be a tale to make any Grendel hearing it snort for a few seconds, before returning to actually consequential work?"

"That definitely sounds like a job for the Siroc Ezmaras, they are quite well known for deploying eccentric ship designs because they felt like it, and they're the most likely to have already done most of the work.

Mariello, shall we head back to Shantelle parador, get Hopper a less eccentric outfit, and we can hammer out a quick contract for the finder's fee while she's changing? I don't really want to parade you through Atalaya port dressed like that if we're trying to keep a low profile, Hopper..."

Mariello nods, and turns to head back up the road.

Hopper follows after Mariello, rather inpatient in her desire to return to Homeworld. She's curious to see just what the less eccentric outfit would look like; it seems like strong dyes are nearly universal here. It'll be annoying not wearing her drysuit anymore; it feels so toasty and nice against her skin. But she can't risk such clearly alien clothes getting revealed and exposing her secret.

On returning to the parador, she is dispatched with Ritelli to a store-room - "See if you can find something she likes in the clothes we keep for sailors, if none of it's good enough then I guess you can go through my wardrobe," says Mariello - where he throws open a chest full of slightly worn, somewhat crumpled clothing.

"Pick out anything you like the look of, I'll wait outside until you call me back in," he instructs her.

The majority of the clothes in the chest are fairly simple cotton and linen robes, richly dyed in flame colours - sometimes gradients, sometimes simple block-printed patterns, sometimes just plain colours. There are also matching long scarves, which by the look of the other people she's seen are worn tied around the head in a somewhat elaborate fashion, shorter lengths which are probably meant to be worn as belts or sashes, and some plainer coloured (they are still coloured, but generally more natural-looking ruddy and mustard shades) underclothes - although these might be a little hard to recognise because the standard styles are 'loincloth' and 'halter wrap'.

She is NOT changing into a medieval loincloth or halter wrap! She's seen these in museums, and felt vaguely horrified when she thought about how inconvenient they must have been. What she's wearing now took lots of civilizational and personal work she's not going to let go to waste. 

The drysuit and dress comes off easily enough; then she changes into a modest, linen robe, trying to match the clothing into the most inoffensive, bland and anonymous style possible. She's unfamiliar with the scarves, and elects to go without that particular accessory, expecting fewer clothes and embellishments to make her stand out less.

When she emerges, Ritelli looks a bit skeptical. "Did you need help tying a headscarf? It can be a bit tricky to get the hang of if you're not used to it, I guess? And I guess you'll want something to carry your things in... I think there's satchel bags in another chest. Didn't you like any of the sashes? We can go get something better from Mariello's personal stash if you like, she did say..."

"No, I just wanted to avoid anything that might come loose and bring more attention to myself. Unless my lack of a headscarf would turn many eyes my way, I insist on the simplicity of going without."

"It's a bit weird, but not too bad I guess - you'd better take a sash or two, though, or I bet Mariello has a nice waistcoat or something if you really don't want anything that ties on. Else folk'll wonder why the hakima's going round with a pauper."

"Oh, I wasn't really very familiar with the fashion here. I trust the waistcoat more than the sash, really. Clothes from the other side of the portal aren't designed to be tied around anything; it's seen as too unreliable, so I would feel quite uncomfortable in a sash or anything else that needs to be tied to be worn properly."

"No worries, I wouldn't manage looking natural in what you came in with - pick out a bag from here," he opens another chest, which contains a selection of purses, pouches, long plaited cords and a few larger satchel bags, all of which are brightly coloured and have at least some basic decorative stitching, as well as a few painted wooden beads or thin shiny pieces of metal sewn on for good measure, "and we'll go see what Mariello's got spare."

Hopper looks through the chest, trying to find a satchel bag that seems like it wouldn't be too heavy or bulky. She eventually ends up with something, missing her many pieces of luggage perfectly sized for carrying exactly what she'd need on any given day. 

"Let's hope that it Mariello's waistcoat fits well enough on me; at least where I come from, poorly-fitting clothes would bring a lot of attention."

There are a number of light purses but they trade off fairly steeply on capacity and sturdiness; looking pretty seems to have been a much larger concern than functionality.

"Oh, we tend to wear things pretty loose, it should be fine - tightly fitting stuff is more of a League thing," explains Ritelli.

"Well, that's a relief, at least. It's much better for clothing to be too loose than too tight."

She's mildly annoyed at the impractical design of the purses, but chooses the one that seems like it'd blend in the best with her outfit. She wants to keep her extremely alien background to herself as much as possible, after all.

The other outfits she's seen don't seem to be big on colour coordination, but there are plenty of small bags to choose from, and she can pick one that blends in quite nicely.

Ritelli leads her out of the parador and cheerfully into one of the other buildings, which appears to be a private dwelling (which was entirely unlocked, although some people did pay attention to their entrance and Ritelli waved cheerfully at them). There are throws and pillows and curtains and other excuses to drape fabric on things everywhere, all in flame / sunset / generally bright and aggressive colours, many with sequins and metallic-thread embroidery.

"Up here," says Ritelli, indicating a rather narrow staircase; the surfaces of the stairs are still plain adobe but some basic geometric patterns have been carved into the front of the steps and painted, although not as vibrantly as the fabrics.

What is presumably Mariello's bedroom is similarly decorated, and has a big obvious wardrobe which Ritelli throws open; it has a number of outfits similar to what Mariello was wearing, robes and baggy trousers that are less decorated and presumably worn under the robes, and a few waistcoats at one end.

Hopper just walks over to the waistcoats, looking over them. She'd probably take more care if she was getting properly tailored back home, but she's really just rushing through finding something appropriate so she can start getting to the work of rescuing people and hopefully shepherding them into a safe, prosperous place to live.

All the waistcoats are loose, flowing garments, most of them are made of silk although one is fine cotton, and have meandering, swirly embroidery which is vaguely reminiscent of flames or smoke, with various shiny things (painted beads, precious metal sequins, one of them has squares of mirror-polished silver) embedded.

The waistcoats don't seem too different? Hopper takes a few minutes to try them out, choosing the one that she thinks fits her best; she's probably still thinking too much about what would blend in in thomassia, although that particular thought doesn't enter her mind.

Fortunately, none of them are a bad choice here!

"Much better," says Ritelli, approvingly. "Hopefully it's not too weird - I mean, it is Mariello's, you'll be carrying a bit of him wherever you go with it, I guess he quite likes the idea of staying attached to you though - but I know it can be a bit itchy to dress wrong...

...I guess you don't - do you even have egregores, where you come from?"

"I've never heard that word before. Is it some kind of animal? I'm not sure how it might be relevant."

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.

"Right, that's a perfectly sensible explanation."

"Now, do you have any idea of how long it'll take before a ship is ready for us? It seems like you weren't quite expecting to need a ship on short notice."

"Not in the slightest. I hope it's more a matter of days or weeks than months or seasons, but I've little to base that on, and as they say, hope is a false Virtue.

We should be able to take ship to Siroc as soon as we reach the docks, even with the lurking armada."

"And so, wait we shall."

The docks of Atalaya bustle with colorful Freeborn citizens. Some appear to be on terribly urgent business, but some are just chatting animatedly in loose groups or even playing music to varying levels of appreciation from passers by.

Many of them nod respectfully at the hakima; few of them take any particular note of Hopper, and those who do look curious are silenced by Sofia returning their regard cooly.

Asking around a little, Sofia soon finds them passage on a ship that is leaving immediately, a small fast messenger sailboat; she hands over some coins for the privilege.

The vessel is moored against a slightly swaying wooden pier and it's a bit of a step to get aboard, and there's nowhere obvious to sit - just a plain wooden deck festooned with ropes and rigging, occupied by a small crew that are busy at them, and a propped up hatch with a steep ladder heading below.

Hopper excitedly jumps aboard, poorly hiding her powerful desire to return to the portal and summon the help of her own civilization. She calms down after getting on board, waiting for everyone else to join her. She's always been relatively good at handling stormy seas, although thomassian cruise ships are vastly larger and more stable.

Sofia accepts a hand from one of the crew to step aboard in a dignified fashion, and heads over to the railing around the aft, where she watches as the boat is secured for launch, glaring at anyone who looks like they might be considering striking up a conversation with Hopper.

A couple of packages are delivered into the hold, the hatch is secured, and they set off; the sea is quite calm and the sailors complain good-naturedly to each other about the difficulty of catching enough wind to get up to speed in the sheltered bay, with the air of old familiar whinging that nobody takes very seriously.

Hopper sits down, trying to think of all the people she's helping, and the luxury and leisure that thomassia will bestow upon them, once thomassia can begin to accept refugees from this miserable, medieval garbage can of a society.

"I suppose it's not likely to get too damp down there in Atalaya Bay," Sofia contributes.

The sailors seem to find Hopper sitting down somewhat unusual, but not enough to confront what they have decided must be the hakima's prisoner, from the amount Sofia clearly does not want them to have a friendly chat; mildly surreptitious glances, exaggerated shrugging etc increases markedly.

There is a little spray from the sides as the ship gets up to full speed. It isn't quite half an hour later when they have to start dodging fishing boats and manoeuvre into the harbour at Siroc.

Hopper waits patiently, not sure of where to go from here and taking Sofia's lead. She needs to blend in, now; she can't risk seeming too bizarrely excited or unusual.

The ship meets a small rowboat which contains an official of some kind that tells them where to dock, then ties up quickly and efficiently. Sofia gestures for Hopper to alight as soon as they're ready, and follows her off.

Siroc is a much larger and noisier city, with a wild profusion of piers, people selling all kinds of things from handcarts and fixed stalls, colourful canopies, duelling buskers, and really quite a lot of seemingly unattended children from toddlers up, running through the crowds, offering their services as guides and messengers, hawking bits and bobs from trays.

Between the sea breeze and copious amounts of incense and perfume, it doesn't actually smell as bad as it might.

As they leave the pier, Sofia tosses a coin to a girl who might be about ten years old, and tells her, "Tell the Ezmara shipbuilders that a hakima is on her way with a commission." The girl nods and scurries off through the crowd.

Hopper thinks all the children being part of adult life is charming, but them apparently having to work to live is disgusting. She stays standing next to Sofia, presuming that someone will meet her; after all, she didn't meet them, right?

"This way," Sofia prompts her, and offers a hand - "do you mind holding hands? I don't want to lose you in the crowd, but I don't want to give offence."

"Sure, we can do that. I guess that getting lost in the crowd would be an issue, here."

Sofia delicately but firmly takes hold of Hopper and starts determinedly striding through the chaos, resolutely ignoring everyone attempting to sell them things.

An awful lot of people are attempting to sell them things, including some very cute small children with sweets.

Hopper also ignores all the people selling her things, although she makes note of the children selling sweets. People have done blind tests, and buying sweets from cute children actually has been proven to taste better!

The girl they had sent ahead is waiting in an opening between two buildings forming a small alleyway; Sofia distributes another coin as she passes her on the way into a courtyard somewhat removed from the bustling throngs.

Here there are a number of long wooden tables; one is covered in haphazard piles of diagrams, pencils, rulers and set-squares and suchlike, another in woodworking tools and small scale models of various parts of a ship, another in weaving frames and scraps of all manner of fabrics.

Inhabiting the area are a number of squabbling individuals, somewhat less densely packed than out on the streets, pointing at diagrams and objects, arguing over various nuances of ship design.

A bored-looking teenager is leaning against the wall in the entrance-way; she neatly gets out of their way, but appears to be keeping an eye out so that no uninvited guests come through.

Two men are standing around near the entranceway, having an argument not about shipbuilding directly, but about who should be greeting their guests.

"Alejandro, I tell you, she may be a - dabbler - but she is the only one of us who has been to Anvil..."

The other man has strikingly blue hair and a hint of scales amongst his beard. "Gallio, I know you feel like you must involve your daughter in everything, but...

Oh, hello! Greetings, welcome to the finest shipbuilders in Siroc, would you like a drink, somewhere to sit, a little snack perhaps?"

"I did not come here for idle flattery. Do you have somewhere a little more... private?"

"Certainly, come right this way."

Gallio attempts to sweep the visitors into one of the buildings flanking the courtyard; Alejandro seems to be caught somewhat flat-footed, and gestures expansively before submitting to meekly follow them.

Hopper does whatever Sofia does. She gets the sense that there are power dynamics that she'd want to avoid; she's read about them in novels, where small errors caused enormous damage.

Sofia allows herself to be swept off by Gallio into a side room with a rather smaller, entirely clear table, half a dozen chairs, and another woman already waiting for them.

"Oh, hello! That was fast, Gallio..."

"May I introduce my daughter, Yasmina i Ezmara i Erigo, once General of the Red Wind Corsairs? I am sure that a commission from a hakima will be interesting, and she specialises in dealing with interesting things for our family."

Alejandro stalks in after them and takes a seat at one end of the table, pulling out a notebook and pencil, and glowering.

"Very well. Is this everyone for now?" On their general affirmation, she continues, "Huppera, why don't you convey the specifications of the vessel you will need."

Hopper describes the design of the ship, wanting to build a ship to let her see far inland and to have a better view of the world around her than any other. She wants a crow's nest barely lower than the height of the portal, on a steady ship that doesn't sway, with a large, safe and comfortable platform for her to look down on the world in.

(Memorizing what to say here would just have made too much sense, wouldn't it?)

Everyone industriously takes notes; Gallio's are precise diagrams, Alejandro's are mostly numbers and calculations that he angrily crosses out or surrounds with question marks, Yasmina's are a summary of the exact words.

"Please forgive me if this is impolite," she begins, "but have you considered an arrangement of lenses and mirrors? I can see from Alejandro's face that raising a steady platform so high in the air will be - a challenge - but with a polemoscope, you could extend your viewing height from a more reasonable altitude..."

"Yep, I considered that. And that won't do. I like seeing things through my own eyes, being able to turn around freely. I'll compromise once I can know for certain that what I want, or at least something similar, is truly impossible."

"Nothing is impossible," asserts Alejandro, hotly, as he scribbles out another attempted calculation. "The problem is, this would need to be, very large."

"And the Navarr have been buying up all the weirwood that hasn't already found its way to Atalaya," Gallio contributes. "Something about the Great Forest Orcs knowing a better way to upgrade their herb gardens."

Sofia rolls her eyes. "Please spare me the sob stories. How many wains are we looking at?"

"At least half a dozen, and that is a low estimate," replies Gallio, "and we've barely got one on hand."

Sofia looks somewhat taken aback.

"Please do continue to get me a better estimate," she replies, "but I will have to - discuss financing options."

"Or you could tell us what this is really about, and I could see if any of my old friends would be interested," suggests Yasmina.

"Alejandrio - Gallio - much as I am sure you are upstanding citizens..."

"The fewer parties to a contract, the less things to go wrong. Come on, Alejandro, we have a lot to..."

"You might be content to leave this to Yasmina, but I'm not going anywhere. Happy to look something over, if you want me to sign to keep it to myself."

Sofia produces a few pieces of paper and begins to write industriously. It appears to be a basic confidentiality contract, with a break clause... that parties found to have broken their confidentiality will be pursued in court for treason.

"I'll watch the door and divert any listening ears." Gallio leaves the room; the other two sign two copies of the contract each, so each party can keep one.

"Hopper. The full explanation. If I can't trust these people to keep their contracted word, we cannot trust anybody."

Hopper nods grimly, taking a breath and a few seconds so her first sentence starts off right.

"I don't come from this planet, or universe, or reality. I am a traveler from a world enormously more prosperous than this."

"I was casually enjoying a swim underwater, when I somehow discovered a portal leading here. I fell into water, was rescued by two dolphins, and ended up here."

"I believe that the world on the other side of that portal has the wealth to provide a life of royal luxury and safety for every person here. If I could return to the portal, I could free slaves and children from lives of misery and toil, and save the lives of untold numbers or poor, desperate, or starving people here."

"I would bring an obvious illness that was easily curable by those on the other side of the portal, spreading it among those soon to be captured as Grendel slaves, terrifying the Grendel from capturing anyone else for fear of bringing pestilence to their lands, building a home for those exiled due to their illness, and some day, everyone else on this side of the portal."

The bit about the illness is Clearly Not What Sofia Expected and she looks briefly horrified before going directly into damage control mode.

"That is, of course, only an example of the powers on offer - and the dangers - obviously we will have to, ah, fine tune any relevant plans to be acceptable to all parties..."

"Should we be taking quarantine precautions, if your world has novel illnesses we haven't been exposed to?" 

Alejandero opens his mouth to say something, closes it again, then settles for glaring suspiciously.

"Precautions will be entirely unnecessary on your end. Our world is essentially illness-free, and we'll take extra precautions to ensure that nothing dangerous crosses into your side of the portal. I wanted an illness that's obvious, not dangerous. There are... secretive methods for developing illnesses that can be perfect for this purpose, an illness that makes it unacceptably risky capture slaves, while leaving those would-be victims far better off than if they had been sentenced to a life in chains. Any attempt to fight the Grendel would risk far more lives than a nonviolent approach, and I believe that they will merely extort us for impossible sums if we attempted to buy a significant number of slaves from them, beyond this wealth encouraging further slave raids. I truly believe that an obvious, but not dangerous illness, is the option that will free the most lives."

"The thing about illnesses," Alejandero can't help but interject, "is they don't tend to stay how you put them. Even if you've mastered the arts of the Druj and can tailor them to your whim."

The way everyone reacts to the term 'Druj' suggests it is not a good thing to be compared to.

"Well, we have methods of preventing significant deviation in the properties of bacteria, especially. And our medical science works incredibly quickly; we can be quite sure that anything coming here will change in a way we can control."

"But you're making it clear just how horrifying an illness would be! Surely letting a few people get ugly spots, a cough and runny noses can't be worse than a life condemned to Grendel slavery. You said it yourself; it's something the Grendel couldn't possibly risk."

"The problem is," replies Yasmina, calmly but with a somewhat exaggerated precision, which gets colder as she proceeds, "if we're sufficiently horrified by what you are offering - why would we build you a way to return to the portal, and bring back untold armies and diseases and whatever else?

As you are neither an Imperial citizen, nor a member of a recognised foreign nation, nor an official diplomatic delegation - you do not actually have any protection under the law.

I suggest you choose your next words very carefully."

Hopper blinks, giving her enough time to collect her thoughts, calm down and collect herself.

"I am only here because you have some interest in what I might be offering. You're free to entirely refuse any assets I might provide you; but if neither armies nor diseases are on the table, then I'm happy to leave you like you like they were before you met me, vanishing never to be heard from again, as the path to my homeworld remains forever beyond my grasp."

"I can guarantee you that I will bring back no armies, and no illnesses, if that is your wish. I'm hoping that I'm not signing my death warrant saying this, but I can bring back a staircase leading into the portal, if that's a sufficiently non-horrifying manner of preventing the enslavement of untold numbers of people."

"I'd really rather have not heard a plan involving diseases, as they're so troublesome to check for," replies Yasmina. "But I'm also not one to inspect gift horses quite so hard they disappear.

Sofia, would you stand surity to a contract? I don't mean to insult our guest, but I know nothing of her customs.

And - we literally don't have enough weirwood on hand, we can't lay our hands on that much in a hurry regardless of the prize. I would also, given what we've just heard, not really want to see you off to Anvil where I'm sure you could find some people who would consider that a wonderful idea.

Would you be willing to sign a contract to the effect of what you've just said, and - Alejandro, you can round up some corsairs for an escort, yes?"

Sofia thinks frantically for a few moments, but eventually nods. "Between what I've seen so far, and the opportunity presented, up to handing myself in for treason if I misjudged," she replies, gravely.

Hopper nods. "I'm happy to write a contract guaranteeing that no illness and no armies will be brought on this side of the portal. I'd want to sign a contract specifying what would be allowed to bring through the portal, if at all possible. I'd feel much better if we had that worked out in advance."

"Absolutely, I love to work with someone who wants to get the details straight.

Alejandro, can you draft for us while we talk?

We will undertake to build such a vessel as can reach your inconveniently placed portal entrance, presumably required as soon as possible as we have no idea how long it will persist, so long as a supply of weirwood can be secured - we can put some cash towards this endeavour, but would be relying on Sofia for appropriate contacts to approach, and can likely only fund one or two wains ourselves.

You will undertake to include people of our choosing, details to be negotiated but no less than three individuals, in your return through the portal; to avoid importing pathogens, including by failing to take reasonable precautions; to await proper authority regarding whether any military endeavour will be welcomed by the Empire, to consist of either the consent of the Senator for any territories involved - including those bordering the area of deployment; the consent of the Senate, or the consent of the Military Council.

Other trade to be permitted by default but subject to scrutiny by expedition-appointed members of House Ezmara in the first instance; we are likely to escalate to the magistrates or the Senator if the scale seems to warrant it.

Non-military individuals to be permitted back in small numbers to begin with - I'm not sure what kind of size you'd expect for a diplomatic delegation? I suppose they'll want to meet the local Senator first, as Anvil isn't in session, but shouldn't expect to get much done until it is, at the next equinox - Anvil is a few days down the coast by boat, then about half a day's walk or ox cart ride down the Trods from the nearest port."

Alejandro mutters under his breath about not being the help, but does get a piece of paper out and start drafting a contract.

"Waiting for approval for anything military-related makes too much sense, and I'm more than happy to comply. So, too for bringing people through the portal. In fact, I want to bring every willing human being here back with me."

"Why would it be necessary to have more than one person in a diplomatic delegation? You'd know if you needed delegates and things for more specialized tasks like handling trade or military coordination. We're expecting... sufficiently many people. Don't know what to say here."

"Generally either they all want to keep an eye on each other, or they want to have their servants or apprentices or what have you with them?

Also, I'm not sure whether they have them where you come from, but we also have a considerable population of orcs - in the Empire, I mean, as well as the Grendel. Did you actually mean human, or did you mean 'people who can reasonably expect to be conducting themselves in a civilised fashion rather than being slavers'?

Actually that's probably a tangent, I'm not expecting any orcs in the initial delegation and I expect us to decide later how to make access available for people into your portal who don't have a giant unwieldy seagoing edifice to transit from, after we've made initial contact and hopefully ascertained something about the portal's stability."

"Who would keep an eye on each other? I'm mildly confused. Diplomats don't have apprentices, generally. Also, servants? Eww!"

"Well, I mean all human or generally human-intelligent creature. I thought that humans were the only ones in existence."

"Also, yeah, a better option than a huge ship would be great for letting people move into and out of my world. Absolutely."

"I do apologise - remember, I'm not actually aware of what I'm dealing with here, there are many cultures in this world who do keep servants - or yeofolk, or whatever they want to call them.

The members of the diplomatic party - often there will be people from multiple internal factions? It sounds like you must have a much more sensible set-up," or are suppressing dissent an awful lot, she doesn't say, "and might only require one diplomat to come to speak to our Senator and on to address the Imperial Consul at Anvil when they're available.

I recommend we scope this contract to initial contact, since we're clearly running into misunderstandings already? Initial contact, we construct the ship pending weirwood, we send three individuals of House Ezmara over plus possibly whoever our weirwood supplier wants to send, as that's who we've got on hand, you get back in touch with your own government and get a diplomat to come back with you on the big boat to make further arrangements.

Break clause... we undertake not to try to collapse the portal or aggress against your person unless you break this contract, in which case we are likely to do so? What would you want of us if we refused construction even provided suitable materials and time - this isn't going to be a quick project, I'm afraid, I expect we're looking at - I'm not a shipbuilder myself, but at the very least a month from delivery of materials, and likely more, usually this kind of work is measured in seasons."

"Ahh, factions, I've read about those. Also, don't worry; servants aren't a huge problem for us. Although they will make us do a double-take. Also, sending your diplomats out and my diplomat in is 100% fine."

"Also, your break clauses make essentially perfect sense. I don't even know what I'd want to ask you if you randomly chose not to build the ship, honestly. There's basically nothing that matters compared my opportunity to save vast amounts of people from Grendel slavery."

"That is certainly a virtuous aim!

Alejandro, any other thoughts?"

"Here, read this over, I have left places for Huppera, Yasmina and Sofia to sign if you are content. Sofia, are you seeing to Huppera's care and feeding during the project duration or should we also consider that?"

The contract is very exactly as Yasmina stated, not even in especially flowery language.

Hopper accepts the contract. She doesn't say anything about how a contract has limited meaning when not implicitly enforced by a third party.

"Are there other contracts I'd need to sign? Or is preparing a ship that lets us reach the portal our next step?"

"Unless there's anything else you'd like to bind us to, I'm not inclined to tie us up too thoroughly until we can at least investigate the portal?

We might send out a vessel to the location and see if we can find the regio that's powering it, but that also has the potential to give away the position before we're ready; the Grendel are rather eagerly watching the sea."

"Yes, I'd be extremely unwilling to acknowledge the portal's existence in even that way. I see no greater risk than the Grendel making it inaccessible to us forever."

"Well, it could just disappear on its own, or one of the Eternals could take umbrage to its existence and indeed your people's existence and send some kind of hideous magic through it. But yes, I expect the primary risk is the Grendel climb through and attempt to sway your people to their cause; they're also not a people known for turning down opportunities, so I expect they wouldn't just destroy it out of hand."

"I was trying to ask about things I could do, not things that could happen. But it seems we're in agreement that avoiding the notice of the Grendel is to be priority number one."

"If I was you, I'd be writing down everything useful I could remember, in case that portal disappears before we get to it. We can write something up for supplies in return for access to at least some subset of the information, if you'd rather we handle it than Sofia."