Swamped

"Oarspur Gulf. Fireboat was gonna blow. Grabbed a couple barrels before it did."

She gives him an odd look.

"You were in the Battle of Oarspur Gulf? Which side?"

"Lansor. Merc. Quit after."

"Since when does Lansor have fireboats?" she asks.

"Kandria's. Stopped big explosion." He's got a strained expression; you think it's hurting him to talk even this much.

She sighs.

"It sounds like relevant experience, but you're being very light on details. Do you know how to write?"

Harold shakes his head.

"Well, I'm sorry, but I can't approve things unless you can give me a more thorough explanation..."

"Link," you say, tapping both of them lightly on the shoulders. "There. I've created a link between our minds. All Harold has to do is think a message at us, rather than talking. He can even choose to only send it to one of us if he wishes. I'll close it when we're done here."

Thanks, Harold sends to you. Seems he's still not very wordy. But it's an improvement, judging by his expression.

Worked in merc unit, hired by Lansor. Sent to stop slave convoy passing through. Military couldn't, we could. We had three ships waiting for them. Thought it would be easy, didn't know about fireboat. Started sinking escorts, then we noticed. My ship got hit, we fired back, realized it'd blow. Might sink the transports. So, we boarded. Got fifteen barrels off before it blew. I was still on board. Transports were safe.

The quartermaster doesn't say a word, at least not audibly. She grabs a slip of paper and scribbles her signature on it. She hands it to Harold.

"You're approved," she says. Then you hear her in your head. Now close this thing already! And don't cast a spell on me without my permission again!

I apologize, but time is uncomfortably short. If you'd like, I can give you a fuller apology if we reach a point when it isn't. Closing the link.

You didn't want to leave it open too long, anyhow. You've already got Resk's link to maintain. You thank the quartermaster for her time, and walk out, asking Harold to lead the way to the armory.

He nods, and starts walking.

"Thanks," he says as he does.

"You're welcome," you say. You're not sure what else you even can say. But you soon reach the armory, and the fire powder storage. Someone's standing out in front of it. Presumably to guard it.

"You need fire powder, Wiz?" they ask. "What for? Gonna put on a victory celebration?"

"We haven't won yet. That's why I need some. And Harold here is going to help me carry it. One barrel should be enough."

Harold holds up his slip of paper.

"Well, everything seems to be in order. Go right on in."

They open the door, and you head inside. There's plenty of barrels, but you also notice something else.