Valthor hadn't honestly expected to like the admiral, but then he'd been surprised before and at least this one was pleasant. Borith Cove was practically designed to be a pirate city, with a narrow, defensible channel leading into a sheltered cove and plenty of ships and crews to defend it. It had plenty of docks, plus its own shipyards -- and, it turned out, a whole set of farm plots run by widows whose husbands had been lost at sea. It wasn't quite enough to make island self-sufficient, but it looked to be well on its way.
They'd found the admiral in the inn on one of the pair of islands at the center of the cove, and almost accidentally had confirmed that Captain Razin of the Gloamshine -- the boat they were currently traveling on -- counted himself among the pirates. As far as Valthor was concerned, that was fine; as freebooters went, they didn't seem to be especially evil or destructive. They'd certainly worked hard enough in trying to get the elves and orcs to their negotiations.
So now the four of them -- he, Rrhorask, and Tizrin of the Adventurer's Guild, along with a priest named Sy -- were exploring the town at the admiral's instruction. In person, she had turned out to be a drow elf -- which might have been awkward at sea, but worked well enough since her particular admiralty was over the town of Borith itself. Or, possibly, the whole island, but Valthor didn't think so.
So far, they'd met the captain of the Widows' Farms -- a rather friendly halfling -- and the captain of NewTown, which ironically was no longer especially new. She was a Tortle, already older than anything Valthor expected to live to see, and apparently the center of a network of information-gathering. Now they were on their way to where the admiral was having the old fort atop the hill rebuilt. He was looking forward to seeing it.