In Gunther Gunnarson's workshop...
Mark suddenly remembers that he, against all odds, is quite conscious. And terribly bored. The blacksmith guy is slowly working on the whole ball joint thing, and has installed four out of eight by this point, right now finishing work on his arms. He's humming a cheery tune and looking somewhat relaxed.
Mark really wishes the guy would get a move on. He's been here for eight hours already.
In the cargo hold of the Second Shank...
Sigmund realizes that the laws are things that should not be poked without reason. Instead, he looks at them. They don't seem to mind much, as looking does not qualify as anything fun in their book. There's a whole bunch of laws in the knot right in front of him, and the first three he found are simply the overarching, strongest ones. One particular rule he notices is that no willful alterations of reality are permitted, as this hurts the general sensibility of the universe. And the general sensibility of the universe does not like to be hurt, naturally.
Furthermore, each rule is founded on several small subsets of rules. For instance, the "no fun" rule stands on three main pillars, or is based on several strands, whatever your preference, the knots are really just an abstraction: "no magic", "soul is taken after death" and "your enjoyment means absolutely nothing to anyone", which in turn have several smaller subsets supporting them. And the "don't unravel" rule is founded on "don't manipulate the strands", "don't move the knot" and "no smartass lateral approaches to knot unraveling".
Interestingly, Sigmund becomes aware that such a knot exists for pretty much every object around him - some have more complex knots, with Sigmund himself having the most tangled one that he can see in the room, while his piece of paper has significantly fewer strands, presumably due to having no concept of death or fun.
In a kitchen...
Niklas, though he feels a little sick for a moment, nonetheless commences a chopping frenzy. He nibbles the meat present into several slices, which is pretty hard work, all things considered. Luckily, his teeth are knives in their own right, and thus they are surprisingly suited for the job, albeit a little small.
After a good hour of this, he proclaims the meat rather nicely chopped. The people present clap at his steadfast spirit.
On a different ship in Shriekpot...
Scott offers the man a drink.
"We have the finest swill on our vessel, providing of course that my master hasn't drunk it all...will you accept the invitation?"
"Uhm, no offense, but that seems a little suspicious. Particularly the way you keep mentioning a master. Sounds like something out of a horror story, no? I think I'll pass, thank you very much," the sailor replies. "In fact, I think I'll go to the Feisty Jelly instead. Thank you for pushing me to make up my mind."
The sailor man moves to leave the ship.
At Niklas' melting point...
Morton agrees with the proposed course of action.
"We best hurry then, I sincerely doubt they'll leave him like that for long. Getting good sir Captain to aid us would also be of marvelous help, I fear that whatever good mage Erin might change chef Niklas might be damaged by the heat. Good sir Captain could probably get him out of there for safe transforming."
"Right. But first, let's get there."
And soon enough they do! They are greeted by something interesting, namely an unfamiliar ghost standing next to the Artiste, gabbing about something.
"Is that... hey, it is! Justine, that's you, isn't it?"
The ghost turns to face Art slowly.
"I'm afraid not. You must have me confused with someone else, whoever you are."
"Nah, it's her alright. Justine, remember Art? He got a makeover, you see."
"I do recall someone with that name. The mostly useless necromancer, right?"
"Hey! I take offense to that."
"And I care so very deeply about your opinion."
Art grumbles a little in response.