We dock at a small fishing village built in a sheltered cove at the estuary of a large river. It’s a small, quaint place that’s as well worn as anything built near the sea, but there’s a beauty to it in the simplicity of the buildings and the contrast between them and the giant mountains that create an image worthy of an oil painting behind the village. There’s still a good couple hours of daylight left, though not much more than that, and the temperatures are dropping as the sun dips lower behind the mountains, leaving the whole area in shadows.

“This here is Crystal Cove,” Gendric says as he leads us off the pier and to a raised wooden boardwalk that seems to trace throughout the small village. The ground itself is marshy, which I suppose makes some sense given the bodies of water it’s located near, and lichen and other things grow in the worn wood. “That’s the Bisect,” he points toward the river just visible to our left, “and this is my favorite pub in all of Qeth.”

The Salty Sea Witch, as the hand-carved wooden sign reads, looks like it belongs in Moby Dick: three levels tall and built of blackened, rotting wood with thick, leaded-glass windows through which warm firelight glows. Inside, a piano plays, and we can hear the sound of laughter and shouting voices.

If the Wide Sky Tavern reminds me of hipster breweries back home, the Salty Sea Witch lives up to every high fantasy expectation I could have. I glance at Meg, who is actually grinning up at it, and then to Flynt, who looks back at me, his skeptical expression confirming just how out of place he feels.

“What’s the general feel of the place?” he asks tentatively toward our guide.

“They’re welcoming of outsiders and don’t much care who your parents are,” Gendric says. “Don’t you worry about that. They’re remote, but they’re not isolated, lots of people come through here. It’s a good entry point to the Marrin Valley or the Kwint Mountains.” He glances between us. “That where you’re headed?”

“Nearby,” Tyrus says. “Come in, grab a drink with us.”

Gendric shakes his head. “I need to be getting back while the light’s still with us. When you’re ready to return to Oosal, find a man called Cadre. Big human, fisherman. He’s trustworthy. Doesn’t usually do runs across the Sound, but tell him I sent you, and he’ll give you a good price and an easy journey.”

Tyrus thanks him and says good-bye with a hearty arm clap, a wave, and a promise not to play him in cards again, and Gendric leaves us there in front of the pub.

“Looks like it has rooms,” Jonas says. “We probably don’t want to set out for the ruins until morning.”

Meg nods. “We probably want to see if any of the locals can give us decent directions, too. This seems like the place to ask.”

“That’s your job, Jonas,” I say, wrapping my arms around myself in the chill.

“What? Why me?”

“Because you roll high on charisma, always.” I grin at him. “People want to talk to you. They like talking to you. Meanwhile, they’re uncomfortable around me. Meg’s too to the point. Flynt is going to be awkward beyond imagine in this setting—no offense.”

“No, you’re right.”

“And Tyrus is likely to con them out of their money somehow, and they know it.” Tyrus just nods at that, giving me the point. “You’re smiley, approachable, and completely inoffensive.”

“Thanks?” Jonas says, frowning. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do. Meanwhile, the rest of you will do what?”

“Procure rooms and ale,” Meg replies. “We’ll have some waiting for you.”

“Okay, now that we have a game plan, can we go inside?” I rub at my arms. Flynt laughs at me while the others roll their eyes, and he leads the way up the rickety stairs, pulling open the door.

A wall of warm sound hits us. There’s a bard in the corner playing the piano and singing, joined in by a pair of stereotypical-looking fishermen. Two women, both dwarven with well-trimmed beards decorated with braids and beads, traverse the place carrying round wooden serving trays, distributing mugs from the bar, which lines the far back wall.

The place isn’t quite full but is close to it, and it takes us a while to find a small empty table toward the back. We have to borrow a chair from another table to cram us all in around it. We can’t see the bard past a wooden support pillar, but none of us especially mind.

“House beer’s a dwarven stout,” says one of the servers, coming up to our table. “We have a couple’a light ales and a pear cider. Meal of the day is same as always: fish pie.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Fish pie sounds lovely,” Flynt says, giving her his friendliest grin. She just blinks at him. Sitting down, he’s still a little taller than she is, which is funny—though I don’t want to laugh. She does not seem like the type of person who would appreciate that.

“Any other takers?” she asks.

“I think one for each of us,” Meg says, “and our friend.” She nods toward Jonas, who’s wandered up toward the front where the bard is playing and is already making friends with the fishermen there.

“And drinks?”

“Surprise us,” Meg replies.

“Surprise them,” I say, “but the cider for me.”

The woman nods and disappears toward the bar.

“That was convenient,” Flynt murmurs, watching her leave. “Table service. Don’t see that much.”

“Probably easier than everyone crowding the bar,” Meg says. “So our plan. After we eat, I’ll see about procuring as many rooms as we can. Place like this, we may need to double-up, but we can sort that out. Tyrus, I figure you and Jonas want to room together anyway.” He just scoffs at that. “We can turn in early and plan to hit the road at first light. The map we have isn’t incredibly detailed, but I imagine it’ll take a couple days to get to the ruins. The weather looks like it’s going to hold, at least for tomorrow, so we should get as far as we can as quickly as we can.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Flynt agrees. I nod. “I was reading through Keira’s book and cross referenced some of the papers in it with some things in our library. The ruins are the remains of a hill giant stronghold from before the Stormbringer war. The details are a bit murky, but they were apparently taken down by a rival clan. What is interesting, though, is the large cave system in the immediate area. The notes say that the system was used as a burial site, and is rumored to also have the remains of at least one dragon interred within.”

“Really?” Meg blinks at that. “Wow. Must be quite the cave system.”

“Why would giants inter a dragon?” Tyrus asks. “Thought they were ancient rivals. Isn’t there even a book about it?”

Flynt shrugs. “They may be the remains of a dragon they took down? Hill giants have a very warrior-focused culture, could be a way of honoring the battle. Who knows. The books had a couple of guesses, but nothing particularly convincing.”

“So if we were looking for a hidden artifact, the giant crypt sounds like the place to go,” I say.

“Jonas is not going to love that,” Meg murmurs.

“I’m not sure I do either, honestly,” Flynt says. “Our earlier experiences suggest that we may be dealing with a necromancer. There’s every possibility that they’ve beaten us here, even without their book, and I don’t like the idea of walking into a boneyard with a potentially high-level necromancer. It would take a lot of power, but raising a giant or two may not be beyond their abilities.”

Meg frowns at that, but then shakes her head. “I don’t think that changes anything. We’re already here. And anyway. Undead things are rarely as powerful as their living counterparts. It’s not as if the undead husk could throw giant magic our way.”

“Not that a regular undead giant couldn’t do the job plenty,” Tyrus says. “It may not have access to magic, but it’ll still have the size. It could still crush us.” He looks at her. “At least you and me. We’re the ones who would be up close to it.”

Her forehead knits into a serious scowl. “The sword has a couple of enchantments on it. It’s pretty powerful against the raised.”

Flynt nods his chin my way. “What do you think? Are you still on board with the plan?”

“I am. I think we’ve come this far. I don’t want to just turn back on some theories. Let’s see where this goes. Maybe we’ll get lucky, or maybe we won’t find anything, or maybe we’ll have to run away. But my position stands: I want to do what we can.”

“Killing the undead is tricky, though, we should keep that in mind,” Meg replies. “And we haven’t trained for it. But while I do share your concerns, Flynt, if we’re working together, I bet we could take an undead giant if it came to it.”

“Could we?” Flynt asks, frowning. “We barely survived acid jellies.”

“Have a little more faith.” She grins at him, then at me. She’s going to say something when the server appears with our drinks and pie.

Tyrus waves Jonas over, who raises a hand to give him a minute as he continues to talk with one of the men near the piano. From what I can see around the pillar, the man looks more like a farmer than a fisherman, and the conversation seems to be going well, the man making motions with an index finger as if drawing on the table in front of him. I knew that was a good call.

We start eating, and Jonas comes up with detailed directions to the ruins, which we draw out on the map from my bag. Meg finishes her meal fast, then gets up to speak to the bartender about rooms while the server, whose name is Litra, serves us another round.

Meg appears over my shoulder. “I need twelve silver from the group funds.” She sets three keys on the table as she settles back in her chair. “There’s three rooms. One has two beds.”

“How do we decide who gets the single?” Flynt asks, frowning.

“I don’t mind taking the double,” I say, but regret it the moment I do. Did not think that one through. This is going to be a little awkward no matter who ends up my roommate.

“Great. That makes it easier.” She looks at Flynt. “Shall we flip for it?”

Flynt glances at me and hesitates. “If Keira’s okay with it.”

“Why wouldn’t she be? We’re all friends here. I’m not going to give you the single just because Keira and I are the same gender. That’s not fair.”

“I snore,” Flynt says.

“Not as loudly as she does,” Tyrus mutters. This solicits a shove from Meg.

“Fine.” Flynt sighs. “We’ll flip for it.”

“Okay…” I take the group coin purse out of my bag, give Meg her twelve silver pieces, and then pull out a copper. “Who calls?”

“I do,” they say in unison, then glare at each other.

“Why don’t we make it easier and Keira takes the single,” Jonas says. “She was the magnan—”

“She said she’d take the double,” Meg interrupts. “I want that single room.”

“Okay, fine.” Tyrus takes the coin from me. “Meg, you’re…” He flips it. “Shield. Flint, you’re surface. All right?” He hands me back the coin and motions for me to flip it again.

“This is needlessly complicated,” I mutter, flipping, catching, and slapping it down on the table, removing my hand. Meg peers over at it and she cackles, grinning while the tips of Flynt’s ears go a darker green.