Elizabeth
William "The merchant"
Portside town in the southern isles

Hope... Hope. Ah, quite a thing to cling on to, to make yourself believe that something good was to finally come out of all the misery of the world. Nonetheless, a feeling such as this was rightfully placed before William, for he, in all his might and splendor, his self-righteous conduct and belief of grandeur through good deeds, was able to help the young man.

However, knew nothing of his hallucination and only guessed the boy was uneasy with the ordeal. Not something he hadn't gotten used to after all these years of recruiting and talking to folk.
-

Acknowledgement reached his face at Ichabod's reply, and truly William had been right at his assumption prior to that. Sigmar did noy enjoy getting things for free, though the roasted pig and bed pleased him initially for some reason. Most likely simply due to how he had never seen such kindness.
"Understandable. When I was your age I too enjoyed earning things through my sheer competence... My skill. Hell, many a bandit had to fall before my blade before I finally decided to become a merchant, and even so more often than not I have to defend myself. Although now I do not fight in order to prove myself, but for mere defense."

William was drifting off the conversation's path, and he finally regained his pattern for a moment. He loved to speak about himself, and such finally became apparent before he himself answered the orphan.
"You will have more than enough. Enough to buy yourself a decent suit of armor and weapons, and learn how to fight alongside me and my men. Lad, I did say the task was simpler but I believe that was a miswording of mine... As such, let me explain it to you: you will learn many skills, from fighting to reading, from trading to sneaking, and you will help me read a treasure book. Do you accept this job? If so, know that you must travel alongside me until all treasures are revealed and obtained, or until you simply decide to leave your job."

A short job description, alongside the explanation that he was going to learn how to do things instead of being told how to do them. Interesting, eh?
John
Ichabod Sigmar
Portside Town in The Southern Isles

Ichabod flinched before nodding. Reading... Writing? *Armor*? He narrowed his eyes. He was small, fast. Armor seemed so big and clunky. Of course, a sword would be cool... Learning how to fight would be even cooler... Is there such a thing as light armor? 

*Answer him, son.*

Ichabod, standing there in silence, had snapped back to reality and looked almost surprised.
"Ah! Y... Yes! I've got... Well... Ah I don't got nothin'. What's a treasure book? Like a map but *More* Borin'? How'd you know I never learned 'ow to read?" He answered initially, dropping his arms to the side in their creased position as he began to pick at the pig with his fingers.

"I'm not too sure why you'd choose me for dat job inna *First* Place, ya know. I mean.. Yeah, I'll learn to read your book. Is it because lots.Of.Commoners don't know how to read? Yeah? And Nobles do. An' you don't likes 'em. Maybe. Okay. Okay. Yeah, I reads for you... Yeah."

He said, tripping over his words and becoming slightly non-sensical in the process of responding. He tried to ignore the illusion of his Pa standing right next to William, averting his gaze.
Elizabeth
William "The merchant"
Portside town in the southern isles

Narrowing his eyes? Was he considering the offer, or was the kiddo tensing up out of a lack of trust? Hard to tell really, maybe both. However, it is not that hard to believe that his thoughts regarding armor were bad... And those were mistaken. After all, armor is incredibly good, protective and not all that cumbersome. At least the gear he sold wasn't.

A 'snap back to reality' had one of William's eyebrows arch in examination. What was it that was going through Ichabod's mind?
"Mhm. A treasure book is similar to a treasure map aye, but it doesn't have drawings on it... Rather, it describes the place where the treasure is, how to get there and all that, while rarely providing an image. A map made out of words, to put it simply."

He looked the boy up and down, knowing how suspicious he was of him, how nervous he was, and how hungry he was too as he ate the pig with his bare, dirty hands.
"Not because of that. I learnt how to read as a commoner, but I assumed the fact that you did not know how to read since you were not working as a scribe's apprentice, nor as a page or squire, but carrying crates. Just an assumption really, added up to your... Grammar, or the lack thereof."

Putting a hand on his shoulder, the merchant lifted the boy's face to look at him with the other hand—both gloved with the fluted steel gauntlets he had. Gently of course, but in a decisive manner, unshaking confidence in his movements.
"Lad, be at ease. There is nothing to fear here. Now, let us go to the ship, eh? I thought of departing to the witherlands."

Letting go, he went up his ship and motioned the boy to follow, the anchor being lifted, and the naval object getting ready to leave.