Chapter 3

The entire trip took many hours. Luckily, I was able to perch on a few ships that massively helped speed up the journey; it seemed nobody took notice of my presence anyways. As the boredom of sailors’ conversations got to me, it became increasingly obvious that I needed some sort of teleportation, not to mention better magical abilities as a whole. I could never get a hang of reciting incantations without a spell scroll, much to the disappointment of peers past.

It’s just a novice spell, Grayce!

I apologize, my Lord, I swear I’m following your instructions perfectly!

Tsk. You can’t make a small hand appear before you, what do you think will happen when you engage in battle with someone skilled in the arcane?

I… I don’t know!

Your ‘fancy sword tricks’ aren’t going to save you and you have no means of escape. You. Will. Die.

A scowl appeared on my face while recalling the scene. While no longer as pitiful as I was back then, my skills in the arcane are still lacking. This usually does not matter due to my superior martial ability, but fighting does not help during long seaborne travel…

Resting on the otherwise empty crow’s nest on a large sailing ship, I see a mass of land creeping into the horizon. Judging from the conversation below, we were arriving in the major port city of Pacifica, conveniently belonging to the western nation of Spaelor. The captain suddenly bellowed out to her crew a flurry of commands to prepare for their “grand” entrance. Usually, a bat flying around where coastal birds reside would be suspicious; however, the commotion created a convenient exit that I promptly took.

The few minutes of flying provided an opportunity to let me survey the area. The wet docks are nearly empty; only a few fishing vessels and one passenger ship are moored and none of them showed any signs of life. I suspect most of the usual ships in such a big port are being held in the dry docks.

A more thorough scan, unfortunately, did not produce the small vessel Dalila and her companions used for their travel.

The vacant docks provide a good view of the scenery by the shore. Dozens of stone buildings of various shapes and sizes were lined up behind the large wooden walkways. A huge stone wall stretched across and around the entire city and up several hundred feet into the skies. Hundreds of structures are enclosed within the protective walls, a portion of which on the western quarter sat proudly above the rest on a large hill. Behind the fortified coastal city loomed a snow-capped mountain, protecting the Pacifica citizens from harm in the North. Sunlight broke through the small cracks in the otherwise cloud-packed skies, illuminating my destination while a light breeze flowed in from the ocean.

Despite the lack of ships and early morning time, it seems like the city was bustling with activity. Some people stood to the side talking to each other, others were rushing through the crowds late to some meeting. More were starting up a new day of business, yet many others were enjoying the salty breeze. Even the towers dotting the city wall flickered with commotion from the city’s defenses.

As I arrive closer to the shoreline, a mildly grand building stands proudly near the center of the sea-facing wall, next to the city gates. It seems like a sort of adventurers’ guild: a perfect spot to land.

I fly a bit higher as to not attract so much attention before gliding over to the tall roof of the guild building. As I swiftly land a bit away from the edge, I notice a sign mounted in front of the entrance on the ground floor: Resurge Hiring Board.

Not exactly an adventurer’s guild, I suppose.

While I become acquainted with my immediate surroundings, I think about my next steps while listening to the dialogue below.

It quickly became evident that a few days before my arrival, this nation wrapped up celebrations of the end of the “Year 1632 of Our Savior”. Apparently, the nation, whose soil I currently stand on, miraculously made a temporary armistice with the eastern nation of Fuscor to celebrate the holidays, set to end after the first of the new year. The hustle and bustle below, therefore, are from the Spaelorians cleaning up and preparing for a new beginning.

And, evident from underlying nervousness, the resuming of a ferocious battle.

In any case, my immediate next steps are to sneak into the city proper and familiarize myself with it, the nation of Spaelor, the conflict they have with Fuscor, and the religious organization that sent two groups of adventurers to find what turned out to be me.

The first task is easy. I tracked the closest two guard towers to the east and west of my location, observing that the guards’ attention is not particularly focused towards anything but themselves. A few flaps of my wings bring me over the wall; a quick glance pinpoints my destination; a swift dive returns me back to the ground. Even before my landing, I begin to morph into my true form, allowing me to land with elegance.

Well, as much elegance as possible. I quickly remembered that my appearance remains ragged and unsightly from the Rubiconium trip. Gathering my composure, I quickly checked for the presence of my satchel on my left and ducked into the shadows provided by my surroundings. As my location is between two small homes near the city wall, there seems to be nobody nearby. A quick look around the left corner proves just as much, but a couple hundred feet around my right corner reveals many people going on with their day. Most of them seem to be queuing to cross though the guarded gates.

Comparing my simple but disheveled gray tunic and equally gruesome hair to the townsfolk, even an idiot could tell that I looked like a foreigner that somehow sneaked through the city walls. Too much attention.

“Uhh.. Excuse me, miss?”

Shit.

While I was focused on looking around the immediate area in front of me, trying to plot a path to take without alerting any of the crowd to the right, someone snuck up behind me.

“You look lost, do you need some help?” asked the voice behind me.

I put on a decent smile and turned around. Below my eye line is a young elvish boy looking curiously up at me.

“Oh, I’m just looking around. You don’t have to worry about me.”

He appeared to think for a few seconds before replying. “My daddy works right over there,” pointing over to the gates I avoided a few minutes ago. “He can help you with anything!”

“Your daddy raised a good boy. Now go off, don’t let me bother you anymore,” I said as I shooed him away with my hand.

“Okay! My name is Arlen, by the way! It was nice meeting you, bye!” giggled the boy, who then ran off towards the opposite direction of the gate, along the wall.

Thankfully, the boy didn’t seem to pay any particular attention to me aside from any youthful curiosity. After having regained my composure, I had set off from my hiding spot in search of a more fitting outfit and to wash the grime off of me.

A hot meal would be nice too, I think to myself while walking on a less-traveled path. I had spotted a small column of smoke and caught the slight scent of bread to my north-west, both indications of somewhere that might suit my needs. Even though most people paid no attention to me, some gave a couple of quick glances over. My own eyes focused on the road ahead of me, ignoring them.

After a few more minutes of walking, I arrive in a small plaza marked by a modest sign a bit off the path: “Westtown Grove”. Despite trying to avoid the main center of the city, a sizable amount of people are present, traveling around and through this plaza. Proudly displayed at the center is a stone fountain and a bard chanting poems while playing a lyre. Nearby, merchants gesture towards their goods while craftsmen work on their trades. The dirt road I came from turned to nicely cobbled paths that connect the plaza’s inlets. There are some traces of celebration along the sides of the plaza - torn-up banners, spent fireworks, broken glass - soiling the otherwise fairly clean area.

My nose and appetite find the source of the scent quickly; along the west side is a tavern with open doors, beckoning all who go near. I accept the welcome and head straight there.

The plain exterior appearance of the tavern deceives any passersby as the cozy interior quickly brings forth memories of a more simple, comfortable time. The walls are lined with large windows that let in plenty of light and colorful handmade tapestries that perk up the atmosphere. A small fireplace crackles in the corner. And there are a few groups of people sitting around wooden tables, enjoying each others’ company.

The barkeep looks up from cleaning her mugs. “Hiya! Just yourself?”

I nod.

“Got a seat right here for ya!” she boasted.

The patrons seem to pay no mind to me as I walk past them towards the empty bar.

“Welcome to da Fix’ed Swan. Name’s Rivari, how can I help ya?” she asks me as I sit down on the center seat. The tiefling wears a friendly smile befitting the rest of her establishment.

“Thank you. Was that bread I smelled outside?”

“You’ve got dat right! One of my cooks in the back loooves making fresh bread and our customers seem to like it, so it works out! Wouldja like some?”

“Please. Do you have some stew as well?”

“Bread and stew, it’ll be just a min’,” the barkeep whistles as she walks around the left corner of the bar and into what is presumably the kitchen.

I was not paying any attention to the contents of the conversations held by the other patrons present, but as my food was being prepared, they started to quiet down to a whisper.

A pop from the fireplace as a log falls down.

The sound of a chair scraping along the floor and the steps from a light-footed adventurer followed. Tap. Tap. Tap. They sit down on the seat to my right.

Before they spoke, Rivari twirls around the corner, a steaming bowl in her right hand and a small basket in her left. “Oh, sorry ladies, did I interrupt? Here’s your food, holla and lemme know when you wan’ some more!” As quickly as she dropped off my order, she left.

A few moments pass while the aromas before me tickle my senses. “Uhm…” I shift my attention towards the voice. Human. Middle-aged. Female. Fair skinned. Light robes. Probably some magic user.

“We saw you come in… And you look awfully tired…” Her eyes seem to glance over my forearms, ridden with scars from fighting, while her fingers fidget with a silver trinket. “We wanted to help you…”

My gaze met with hers.

“Oh my, you look quite sickly!” she quipped. “Goodness, at- at this distance, you can’t fool anybody! You need some serious help.” The now-animated woman gestures towards my food. “Eat up.”

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t let me eat,” I reply as a spoonful of the piping hot beef stew arrives at my lips. Mmmmm… This is good…

A quick glance over and I see the woman return to fidgeting with her trinket. The conversations a few yards over have resumed to a normal volume.

I rip off a piece of the freshly baked bread… Two pieces. Taking care to not show my fangs, I bite into my portion and present the other to my neighbor.

“Uhh… Are you sure? You need it more than I…” In response, my hand inches forward. “Thank you.” She takes it.

A couple more scoops of the stew later, she speaks again. “Jydnak, our fighter, he saw that you look pretty strong. He thought that you would be a great addition to our little crew. It’s just the four of us, every so often there’s a quest or adventure that looks great but we can’t really tackle it ourselves… Oh, where are my manners? My name is Elisabet, I’m a follower of Athar and our healer. There’s also Yarasteck, he’s a monk, and Falonir, she's the big brute and keeps our enemies away from me.”

With another piece of bread in my mouth, I look over at the party she is describing. They seem to have some experience under their belt, but a lot to learn still.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll stop bothering you while you’re eating. We’ll wait for you over at our table. I’ll put together a medicine for you as well.” Elisabet turns around and heads back. I continue to slowly enjoy Rivari’s stew and bread.

It seemed like the barkeep was watching me like a hawk, as she swooped in right when I was finishing up what I had ordered. “Was it good?” she asks as she peeps over at the empty seat next to me.

“Very much so, yes. Can I have a whole loaf of this bread wrapped up?”

“Of course! Anything else?”

I shake my head.

Three minutes later, Rivari returns with a neatly wrapped bundle. “That’ll all be two silver!” I reach into the satchel in my lap, pull out one more than she asked, and place them in front of me. “Oh, thank you ver-” she hesitates while reaching for the coins. Her smile drops a fraction of an inch. “You’re not from around ‘ere, are ya?”

“I’m just visiting the area.”

Rivari takes two of the coins and leans in forwards, pushing one coin back towards me. She answers with a whisper. “I, along with everyone else in here, can tell you’ve been in quite a tussle recently. Don’t take no genius to figure that out, ain’t my business asking what my customers are up to. But you could do with a good shower and a fresh change of clothes. Come ‘round the back from the outside, I’ll help get you cleaned up…” Her eyes glance down and back up. “But uhh, I ain’t got nothin’ large enough for ya to wear.”

“That’s fine, I will take you up on your offer. Thank you.”

I place the loaf into my satchel and get up from my seat. A few steps over to Elisabet’s table and they stop talking. The half-orc Falonir stands up and reaches her hand out. I half-smile at her, who is equally as tall as I am but much more stout, but I decline the handshake.

Speaking to the whole group, “Hello. I am flattered by your compliments but unfortunately, I will have to decline your invitation.” Seeing a range of disappointed reactions, I pause for an objection. It appears that there isn’t any, so I continue.“I prefer to stick to myself, I don’t want to… drag your party down with my intrusion.”

At this point, someone speaks. “It would hardly be an intrusion, plus you look like you escaped from some cave or prison by the skin of your teeth! I think you need someone to look after your back if you want to stay in this world!” exclaimed the dwarf, who I presume is Jydnak. “Really, I’d really like for you to reconsider… uhh…”

“Eirlys.”

“Eirlys! Please think it over thoroughly,” he pleads. “A team of us five would be unstoppable!”

“I’m sorry, but no. Why do you even want some random stranger to join your party?”

The stoic dragonborn, probably Yarasteck, replies instead. “We’ve been looking for someone to join us for a while now. Jydnak just asks anybody by themselves who looks like they have some adventuring chops to join.”

“Heh, he also said that you’re quite the looker,” piped Falonir.

“Oi!”

“Anyways,” continued the still-standing member, “if you don’t want to join us, that’s no big deal. Thanks for considering it though.” She grabs a small cloth bundle on the table and hands it to me. “Our friendly cleric kindly made this for you, so please take it.”

Elisabet seems to be looking down at the table, probably twiddling with her trinket again. I take the bundle.

“If you ever want to find us, just look for the Ivory Falls. That’s our party name.”

“I will keep that in mind,” I say with a nod. “Farewell.”

As soon as I step back outside, I turn to the right and head down the alleyway next to the tavern. Nobody seems to be following me. A cool breeze blows by and the shadow cast by the buildings makes for a short refreshing walk. Around the back corner stands Rivari.

“Took ya long enough. I still got folks to tend to. Come ‘ere.” She leads me to the front door of a small cottage home, the outside of which is somehow even plainer than the establishment in front of it. The door was already opened.

“Inside and to ya left. Don’t take too long,” she said, already on her way back into her business.

“Much obliged,” I said. A grunt came in response.

I step inside and get myself cleaned up.