As he moved to open the door, Corvo glanced towards the mirror upon the wall and paused as he noticed the sheen of sweat covering his face. Luckily there were no stains showing through his white linen shirt or trousers, but his dark wavy hair was slightly damp and somewhat tousled from unrest. Exiled or not, it simply would not do to appear in such a manner and lacking any towels or rags, save for the tattered black cloak and unsealed nerve suit stowed beneath the bed, Corvo made do with the sleeve of his white linen shirt and made combs of his fingers as he ran them through his hair, parting loose strands away from his oak brown eyes.

Satisfied, he opened to door only to see someone already standing outside with arm raised to knock. Corvo gave a start until he recognized the spymaster, Gerhardt, the man who had saved his life and secured the vessel they were now travelling upon. Before he could speak a single word however, the spymaster took the initiative and wasted no time with greetings.

“Good you’re awake,” he spoke pushing the young man back inside. “We’re approaching Leongarde’s port city and before you go topside it is best if we lay down some ground rules regarding our behaviour and our new identities.”

"Ah... yes. I suppose that would be best," Corvo replied as he glanced at the mirror again, wondering if he should change his appearance somehow. Perhaps with a haircut or worn in a different style. No doubt the spymaster would suggest as much at some point, but for now simply being without crown or regalia seemed to suffice.

“The dream again?” Gerhardt asked as he entered the room, noticing the young man's paleness.

[i]Curses,[/i] Corvo thought as he replied in a meagre attempt at joviality, "What gave it away?"

As if in answer, the spymaster walked over to a small table whereupon stood a bottle filled with a powerful herbal concoction. The kind that scorched your throat and murdered one’s liver. He poured two fingers for the both of them before handing one of the pewter cups to the young prince, whilst swirling his own.

“You’ll need this. It’ll soothe your nerves and it might inundate you to the sights and smells you could be confronted with,” he warned him as he handed him the cup. “Here some Brenwyn. Don’t expect your father’s Dulce Reina, most commoners would have to work a year to be able to afford a bottle of that stuff. Most people don’t live so lavishly as you’ll see. Neither will we…”

"Just what are you insinuating exactly?" Corvo asked as he took the cup, not sure whether he liked where this conversation was going.

“Remember, your easy days in the palace are over. You’ve been shielded, kept away from some of the true horrors of life. Atrocities that other people have to face every day. Don’t be surprised if you see harlots and whores doing ‘streetwork’ or watch ‘a scolding’ and no I don’t mean they’re exchanging just words with that.
Your father’s kingdom was a paradise in comparison with what the people experience and suffer here. Desperation and poverty does that to people. Though the wealthy and just wealthy enough pretend to not associate with the lower layers of society, they frequent those corners far more often than they like to admit.
They might claim to be the most devout, but for all their piety they are far from holy. I know this isn’t the place we both wanted to go, but for now we have no other choice. 
You’ll also no longer be introduced as the crown-prince. 
We might explore our options there once we’ve attained a Seal and when we have acquired some allies. Still best not to shout ‘here we are’ to the rest of the world.” Gerhardt explained to him before he raised his cup once more and downed the contents in one go.

Corvo gave no answer except to raise his own cup and take a single desultory sip. He seldom enjoyed lectures, much less those accompanied by some truly foul tasting liquor. Gaia's mercy! What was in this stuff?

“You’ll be my nephew from this point on. If anyone asks what we do we’re hirelings, sellswords. We’re our own masters and attempting the climb into the ranks of the Faithful Guard. Make up a new name for yourself for now. Something simple, nothing to fanciful.” Another heavy breath followed as his eyes narrowed seriously, staring at the young prince.
“And lastly; Don’t fall in love. It has ruined better men than you.” He ended. “Now, pack your things and if you’re ready, let’s go topside and watch them dock.”

"What do you take me for?" Corvo scoffed as he set his cup of Brenwyn down, unfinished. "After everything that's happened, nothing could be further from my mind. In any case, allow me a moment to get dressed... and call me Duncan."