The gentle rocking of The Squalor's Splendor faded away and Lorsan found himself in a familiar amphitheater. The light from the perpetual dusk filtered through the clouds and a hooded figure awaited him.He immediately blushed and cursed under his breath. “Look, about the sexy dance thing. I know that’s totally out of line…”
Mercy’s hand extended abruptly to quiet Lorsan. “You think that bombastic show of skill is reason enough to bring you here?”
Lorsan put his hand on his hips and gave Mercy a puzzled look. “Okay, if it wasn’t for my, er, actions, what’s up?”
A sardonic smile spread from the bottom portion of the hooded figure’s face. “I didn’t say you weren’t here due to your actions, though you would do well to never use me as such again. You are here for… other things.”
Lorsan’s eyes widened as he quickly began to frantically think of what else he could have done that made Mercy angry. The list was fairly long.
With a sweep of her hand, a portion of the clouds above parted and showed Squalor's Splendor moving through the night-time ocean. “You return to Evershoal and into the monster’s maw. We need to discuss your… state.”
Lorsan's face very much resembled a confused puppy. “My state? What does that even mean?”
With another wave of her hand, the clouds returned. At the edges of the amphitheater played various scenes of Lorsan using his magic for frivolous things - to impress others with bursts of sparkles and startling sounds and similar. “These are the actions of a child, or a stage magician.” Mercy began. “You are neither and it is time to leave these childish things behind and clad your mind for battle as much as your body.”
Lorsan felt a tug at something deep and fundamental of his being, something he knew tied to Mercy. Knowledge faded and was replaced, not unlike when Mercy had done this in the past. He also felt very, very hungover.
“I’ve taught you how to use the voice of judgment to order a person still, or face the consequences. It will help you protect your comrades as well as punish those who disobey my order.”
Mercy’s smile returned. “I’ve also removed your … tolerance for drink. You will become drunk just as easily as any other fool.”
Lorsan sputtered. “But… that’s how I fight best! I thought it was Aunt Ivis's ale at first, but it works for any alcohol! That can’t be bad, right?”
The smile faded, once again, from Mercy. “The drink does not unleash anything that isn’t already within you. You use it as a crutch. An explanation for the fact that, despite your best efforts, you are actually very capable, Lorsan.”
A simple wooden cudgel appeared in Lorsan’s hand. “Now, we will practice this new gift until you fully master it.” she said, waving as misty forms took shape and began to approach Lorsan.
What felt like hours, maybe days, later, Lorsan woke back in his hammock. His body ached from the exertion and his ears were still ringing. And, with the next wave to rock the ship, he half-rolled out of his hammock, hopelessly tangled, and lost the remainder of his supper to the floor below.