The smoke curling out of Pieter's chapped lips should have eased the knot, but instead it grew tighter. Listening to Uban as he voiced his fears, Pieter reflected on the mistakes he'd made because of his own fears. The priesthood had been on a long wane for generations. Every year, there were fewer priests, and the ones that remained were grayer. The sea took it's toll, yes. But less people were willing to pay. The old way of doing things no longer worked. He could not be like his teacher. 

When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, "Aye, lad. I think you're cut out to be a priest." He coughed, took a sip of gin, and continued, "You're bright and charming, and the sea's taking her liking to you." His voice grew cold with memory, "I was taught by watching my friends die. I drowned, and was pulled out. I drowned, and the boy drowning next to me sank while I floated. That's how I was taught. We were worthless, and our only coin was our lives." He drew on his pipe, smelling the world through smoke. He exhaled, "But that's not how it should be taught. You're worth more here than you would be under the waves. Death isn't the only teacher." The knot inside him loosened, "No books, I'm afraid. Hana bought them all." He laughed, "Don't worry, lad. Those turtles aren't as scary once you see them so blotted they can't swim."