[He can fly. His eyebrows do shoot up in spite of himself, but he wonders what the guy means by a blast? he glances back over - true, none of them are orcish or gobilin construction (or even Forsaken or troll, he would admit) but that one vessel (the Britannia) looks solid to him]

It's the dead of winter and this sea goes out onto the horizon. I'm strong, not foolish. But tell me, what have you concluded about leaving?