"Your trust is a great honour," Inric says slowly, because it is also a burden. "Yes, I accept." Nazarchtharin beams, and starts fumbling with their sleeve as Inric continues. "Ffion is welcome here, and I will take them to Rhydaber when they wish, if I am able."
The dragon holds out a small diamond-shaped object which gleams dully. Inric stares at it.
"One of my scales. Keep it with you for when you wish my aid." They grin suddenly as Inric takes the scale. "Or should you find any particularly fine recipe books. I wouold appreciate that."