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

William knew how the boy would have reacted, and the same ensued. Surprised, in awe and frozen at the mere idea that someone was lifting a finger in order to help him. Disbelief was... Common to be directed towards William due to his generosity.

As such, he did not react to the hand touching him. He suspected it was just a scared boy not knowing wether or not dehydration left him insane and delusional, and a touch would undoubtedly reassure him of what he was seeing.
"I do believe I am real, aye. Hopefully so at least."

Chuckling, he started to listen to Ichabod's words with a growing worry for the boy, and how to successfully improve his image and mental well-being by helping him. Medieval public relations matter, do they not?
"Which would that thing be? I do know that you can be given the best doctors, if your desire is to attempt to cure what assails your mind."

The merchant sighed, shaking his head slowly at his words. Was he untrusting of them? Perhaps.
"What we get? Well, we get to help a lad in need that's all. I can help you more even if you say there isn't much else to it, I can see it in your eyes. Either way if your stance is to remain that one, I suppose I can simply buy you a house and leave both the roast pig and bed there. Maybe buy a few chicken for you, too."
John
Ichabod Sigmar
Portside Town in the Southern Isles

Ichabod huffed, shoving his hand in his tattered pant's pocket, which looked sewn on himself, given the shoddy tailoring. He didn't want to tell him everything, not yet. He didn't trust William with his story, he could see the stinging pity in his eyes already. No need.

"I won't tell you, it's not me crossed-wires, though it was da cause. I ain't hafta tell yous, yeah?" He said with a small sneer. "Listen, ya don't hafta help me for nuthin'. I ain't got a lot to offer, yeah, but... I ain't some pitiful lil port worker. I got *Some* Money to me, somehow. I mean... You lookin' at me just like the rich fancy lookses at yous..."
Elizabeth
William "The merchant"
Portside town in the southern isles

A huff? Really? Well that was unexpected. William couldn't recal the last time someone felt insulted by being helped at their time of need, and he huffed as well before looking at the roast pig, and back at Ichabod Sigmar.

Listening to him, specially concerned by how he sneered in his presence. The merchant was a undoubtedly man of pity who sought to help his neighbor, though that boy did really seem like he felt like help was an affront against his wellbeing. Finally, he understood what was going through the boy's mind.
"You seemed happy about the pig and the bed, and I got quite a few coins to spare. However, I know how you feel... Maybe I acted like you were another orphan in need of assistance, but you certainly seem like you want to be treated like more than that. Instead of continuing to act like one of the nobles, I can offer you a job prospect... Say, how would you like getting paid more than you are here to do a simpler—and yet more important—task?"

The merchant knew what he could ask the lad to do. His book of treasures, it carried many a secret though only a few were able to be found by him... But once the boy learnt how to read, a mind without sanity was probably going to work well to decipher a book that seemed to make it's own words insane. Fight fire with fire, eh?
"You may not trust me yet, but I can assure you I pay my workers well. That is something not even a single king or queen can contest."
John
Ichabod Sigmar
Southern Isles

Ichabod felt a tonge of something he hadn't felt in a long while. Was it perhaps *Hope*? He looked to his left toward an empty part.Of the dock, seemingly focussed on something that wasn't there. He seemed to be questioning whether to go or not.

*Be useful for once, Ya idjit!*

 He heard his eldest brother call, standing tall on the dock. Ichabod blinked a few times and the hallucination of Donnie fell away, back to empty dock.

"Ah... Ah... Aye... Ye." He turned back to William, nodding curtly. "I'll be useful to ya... Whatever yea need, sir, i'd rather 'ave a... Uh... *Life* Than an 'ouse wifout a... A... A work." He stammered, seeming to try and sort out his thoughts manually by pulling at a strand of his hair as he spoke.

"Am not worried about the pay as long as I 'ave enough to 'ave some... Some *Food*. Stuffs I can choose meself that you don't 'afta give ta me."