Reluctant Messenger

"Look there, Trowfaz! This isn't uncharted territory at all. You woke me for this. Eyerolling, now this. I'll have you tied to the mast and flogged before sundown, you hear," Barnaby said finishing his tirade. Indeed, while most of the buildings on shoreline were on stilts, they bore vague resemblance to the architecture back home. Though the walls looked made of a material Barnaby wasn't familiar with, the crossing beams for support as well as style were the same. Also, the roofs were different than back home. Singular red tiles interlinked reminding him of scale mail he had seen on many a guard.

"Did you no pay heed to the Captain? It takes much time to get to uncharted territory. There is all the... charted... to go through first," Trowfaz explained.

"Pah. I'm going back to bed. Try to dream up that gal from before." But the Captain prevented that from coming to fruition.

"Would you be so kind as to deliver Lord Rolf's missive to the Constable for me? I've got some business to attend when we arrive and she doesn't like when I keep her waitin'."

After the captain sauntered off before Barnaby had the chance to get out his polite refusal, he looked down to spot the folded parchment with a red wax insignia bored into it.

Reduced to a messenger! Well, if he was going to be an adventurer for real, Barnaby guessed he'd better start pulling his weight around here. He'd heard some of the crewmen talking about how former comrades had become shark food for slothin' about, and he wasn't entirely sure they hadn't said it for his benefit. Besides, he could probably just get Trowfaz to do most of it anyway. And it would be good to get a good meal in his belly on stable ground.

"Come, Trowfaz. Into the dinghy. You first. There you go, keep it steady. Steady, I say!"

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