Swamped

"I don't know if you plan on making small talk, but if you do, don't bring up the weather," she says, handing you a robe.

"Oh, I could have told her that," Arlene says, taking another robe. She starts putting it on. "Sailors are always pretty sensitive about that. Most have been through nasty storms."

"It's not just the storms for the Golem. Their route takes them through heavy fog for months at a time. And the furthest reaches of it have fierce snows. Best to just stay off the subject entirely."

You and Arelene put your robes on. Of course, Arlene insists on keeping the mask on for as long as she can get away with it.

"That shouldn't be too hard to remember," you say. "What about terms of address? Greetings and such? Do we just call their boss Captain or is there some other title?"

"They aren't that big on formalities. Many of their crew used to be typical sailors, after all, and they haven't changed all that much."

Well. You're pretty sure you can handle sailors.

She hands you a small slip of paper - the proof to show if there's any trouble. You hope there won't be.

"Nual be with you," she says calmly.

"With you as well," you say, bowing your head. You turn to leave.

"Wait, before we go," Arlene interjects. "Where'd you learn to aim a cannon so well?"

"The Lansor navy takes its training regimen very seriously," she replies. "You think my aim's good, you should see what I can do with a length of rope."

With that, the two of you head out and make your way to the harbor.

But on the way, you think you catch a glimpse of someone following you.