"It is already an island of dragons, elves, frog-people and magical plants," says Alistair to Aleister. "We have nothing stranger than that amongst ourselves, and although we may not fit the parts you suggest, there is no reason we could not play others."

"The gentleman with the book, for example,"—he gestures to Medwyn—"could easily be a scholar with interest in magical plants, perhaps one who has already picked up an ambulatory specimen—myself—on his travels. Miss Nefer is already in truth a fellow enthusiast, even if she is more interested in the elves, and there is no reason why a travelling scholar should not employ a bodyguard or two," he finishes, with a nod to Ramirez and Orat. "As for you, sir, you seem like the sort charismatic enough to fill any role you desire. Although I cannot fully endorse Miss Nefer's somewhat... violent... stratagem, I do agree we should not be afraid to be more overt, at least in some ways. The best deceptions, after all, are built largely on truth."

"In any case," Alistair continues, this time to the boat at large, "wherever we ultimately decide to land, I think we would do well to come up with a cover story that omits our dragon-slaying motivations. After all, not everyone we meet may be trustworthy, and there is no guarantee that circumstances will make indiscriminately slaughtering them the best option. To that end, perhaps we should share a little about ourselves with one another, to see what would actually be plausible, or at the very least what we should call one another. Mistresses Qinqirelle and Nefer, of course, have already made themselves known to all, but I believe most of the rest of us have yet to learn each others' names.