<span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">It was difficult to understand all the words his new friend Théadan said, but Risho could read into the prince’s inflections and facial expression. He was defensive, pointing an accusing finger of his own at him and speaking quickly, forcing Risho to try to pick up words he did know. Ship…storm….ship…ill. It did not make sense to Risho and his face twisted up in confusion while he continued to stare. Why couldn’t the <i>Sitvati</i> wake and help them? Everything was much more pleasant when she could bridge the barrier between the two men. He also had little time or patience to try to figure out what was being said to him; the ship was damaged and the crew was still battling the violent storm. He needed to return to them as soon as possible.<br/>
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To his luck, Théadan broke down what he was trying to say, pointing at him when he spoke of the <i>Uttarana</i>. Risho nodded, placing a hand on his chest to show he understood, then watched intently when Théadan next mimed the up and down motion the waves were causing the ship to undergo. Finally, he finished with pretending to throw up and Risho suddenly understood. Worriedly, his gaze dropped from Théadan to the Duchess. She was sick from the storm. Risho knew what she needed though; so many on his ship fell victim to the unsettling rise and fall of the ship on the sea. “I will help,” he announced as best he could before turning and retracing his steps.<br/>
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Up the stairs he went to the dripping, watery second floor of the ship. He had told his men to assure everything was strapped down so they would not lose any of their cargo and Risho was glad to see they had. He could not help water slipping between the main deck board’s and hatches, but he was glad to see there was little else that could be dangerous. Returning to the main deck brought forth a mass of rain, wind, and yelling from his men to assault him. All Risho needed was to slip in and out of his quarters though, and so he hurried to the door leading to them, stepping around men trying to secure the damaged sail of the ship. A small glass jug with a cork keeping it shut was retrieved from his chest and Risho was quickly moving back through his ship, only pausing once to help up one of the sailors that slipped on the deck.<br/>
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He was not gone more than a few minutes before he was returning to the steerage deck so he could deliver the jug to Théadan. Soaked all over again, he pushed his drenched black hair back from his face before holding the jug out for Théadan to take. The liquid within was dark brown and sloshing within the glass from Risho’s rushed movements. “<i>Sitvati</i> need…need to…” He did not know how to tell Théadan she should drink it, so he mimed bringing the jug to his lips and chugging from it, “Only this many.” He then held up his hand to hold his thumb and index finger out and show how much Navia should drink of the jug, gauging about two inches. Then he started to go, only to remember why he had come in the first place. Risho turned back, “Tell <i>Sitvati</i> <i>Uttarana</i> has hurt <i>javan</i>. We stop for fix.” And with that said, he began to leave again for he had a ship to captain.</span>