He quietly made his way out of the store, knowing intrinsically where everyone was in relation to him. Even if he could not tell one tugging sensation from another, it still aided him. He effortlessly avoided them, unburdened by his armour, navigating the near pitch blackness of the ship's interior, from store, to hold, to galley, guided by the faint glow of lanterns and candles in the few cabins he passed. The majority of the soldiers were asleep in the hold, the cabins largely given over to the crew. Everything else appeared to be taken up by supplies or goods to be traded. His only issue was occasionally tripping over something, in one case a discarded, armoured pony boot. Otherwise, he made no noise, or as little as humanly possible, his uncovered feet chaffing against the rough wooden flooring.