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"Has it been that way since arriving in Morrath... or since arriving at Rathmor Palace last year?"

The room fell quiet.

I looked down at my hands.

"Are you implying, Lord Eravic, that without your sailor humor I am incapable of joy?"

A slow smile spread across his face.

"I'm implying⁠—"

"Do you have any sweets?" I looked around the hut. Chocolate would be exceptional.

A strawberry cake even better.

Strawberry cake. Colsar. Fuck. I needed to go.

His laugh escaped before he could stop it.

"I absolutely do not have sweets.”

I tilted my head. “The same way you don’t have ale?"

"The same way you're not a lad."

I thought of Colsar, the tunnel, and everything waiting outside these walls.

I stood up carefully. I did not feel dizzy. I felt strong. “I should go."

"Tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow, Lord Eravic."

“I prefer just Eravic.”

"Sir Eravic."

"Asharin."

"Eravic of the Sea."

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It really isn't that difficult.”

"Duke Eravic of the Dunes."

I frowned.

"Wait... dunes are sand."

A thoughtful pause.

"Duke Eravic of the Seas of Doom."

I waited.

He considered it.