The Wide Sky Tavern and Inn was my first home in Qeth. It’s big and comfortable, with decent food, good cider and ale, and reasonable beds. It’s also one of the favorite hot spots in Oosal, typically busy every evening and well on to closing time, with clientèle that ranges from the average sailor coming through port on up to the scions of some of Qeth’s most established houses—including Grayson Stormbringer, heir to one of the mighty Four Families.

It reminds me of trendy restaurants in LA, with a wide open courtyard ringed by hedges and lit by magical fairy lights, a massive tap room of vaulted ceilings, live edged communal tables, and a giant polished stone fireplace along the back wall, concealing the stairs up to the inn rooms on the middle and top floors. The outer wall is all windows, which open up on the courtyard when the weather is nice. The left hand wall comprises the bar, and the right a row of large booths.

We usually take one of the booths, but they’re all occupied when we get there, so we find a table in the courtyard to stand around, waiting until one empties. I’m freezing almost instantly, despite the warmers set up at every table and my own heavy cloak, and I find myself ordering a hot toddy and standing close to Flynt, whose part-orkish constitution helps make him a furnace.

“What do we think it is this time?” Jonas asks after conversation runs down a little and our booth still hasn’t opened up. There’s a pair of dwarves who finished eating ages ago but continue making goo-goo eyes at each other across the table as they very, very slowly sip their drinks. Anthene, the head bartender, occasionally makes eye contact with us through the window and shakes his head or shrugs. At least he knows we’re waiting for it.

Tyrus shrugs. “I bet it’s another fetch mission, like Keira said. Spell components or some nonsense like that.”

“I’ll take that bet.” Meg grins. “Five silver that it’s some kind of den or nest bothering the locals. They’re all over the place right now, pests coming down from the peaks.”

“Deal.”

“Hm. No,” Flynt says. “Five on investigating a giant sighting.”

“Oh is that right, Mr. Giants-Don’t-Exist,” Jonas replies, standing back from the table to make a point.

Flynt sighs. “I never said they didn’t exist, just that they didn’t exist near Oosal, and I was proved wrong, wasn’t I?”

“Just a little. I was almost stepped on.”

“Are you ever going to get over that?” Meg asks.

“Would you?” Jonas’s eyes widen. “Would you get over it, Meg?”

“Hey, it came close to me too. If Keira didn’t make that impossibly gutsy shot…”

“I think it will be a rescue mission,” I say, thoughtfully.

“Rescue mission?” Meg raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Nyssa said something about other teams when we were recruited. I bet we’re going to have to go find one of them.”

“What makes you think that?” Flynt asks.

“I dunno. Let’s call it elvish instinct.”

Jonas scoffs. “That’s not a thing. Meg’s right. We’re definitely going to be going hunting again.”

“You can’t choose mine,” Meg says.

“What? How come?”

“Because I chose mine. If you want in on the bet, you have to choose something else.”

“But that’s not fair. What am I supposed to choose?”

“You don’t have to bet,” Flynt points out.

“But I want to.” Jonas pouts a little. “I don’t know. What’s left?”

“There’s playing messenger again,” Tyrus says. “Like when we had to go find what’s-his-face by the docks.”

Jonas sighs. “Last time she didn’t even bother to call us in for that, just sent a message. I doubt she would now. It’d be a waste of silver to make that bet. Fine. I’ll sit it out.”

“Next time, Buddy.” I rest a hand on his shoulder. “You just have to be quicker on the pick-up.”

He sighs again and shakes his head.

“Twenty silver to the winner,” Tyrus says. “That’s not bad. That’s a share of a basic notice board mission.”

“I think they’re moving,” Meg interrupts, grabbing her drink off the table.

Sure enough, one of the dwarves is helping the other out of the booth. They’re smiling and laughing with each other, and they cuddle up close as they pause by the bar so one of them can pay the tab.

Meg is in there as fast as a wannabe screenwriter trying to get a Sunday seat at Starbucks, sweeping in and taking the table before a group of human girls can. She grins at them and spreads out while we pick our way through the crowded tap room and settle in our usual arrangement: Meg, Jonas, Tyrus, Flynt and me. I don’t know how Meg and I ended up getting the two ends, but it’s been that way for a while now.

“It’s my turn to order,” I say as everyone else settles. “Usuals?”

They all nod and I make my way back to the bar to put our order in with Anthene, though the fae man is already working on pouring our drinks, giving me a bright, thousand-watt grin in the process. On my way back to the table, I pause by the fireplace, warming my hands, then settle in beside Flynt. He presses his upper arm against my shoulder: gently, discreetly, the most careful touch. I can’t help but lean into it, though the back of my neck flushes a little with the contact.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“It’s pretty bustling,” Jonas observes. “Particularly for when the ships are still out.”

“The weather is nice,” Meg says with a shrug.

“It’s freezing,” I state.

“Not really. And at least it’s not snowing, sleeting, or raining. It’s the nicest day we’ve had since the day we met you.”

“Aw, you know just what to say.”

She wrinkles her nose, though she’s smiling and her eyes glitter. “I meant weather-wise. People are going to want to enjoy it. This is the best place in Oosal to do that.”

“It is lovely,” I agree, and then grin at Anthene as he brings our drinks.

“Meals out soon, kitchen is a little backed-up.”

“We were just remarking on how crowded it is,” Meg says.

“Aye. Gets like this sometimes, never really know why,” Athene says with a shrug as he looks back out around the room. “Maybe the weather. Maybe something with the moons. Who knows. It’s good for the business, but tough on the regulars. Wait until next month, though.”

“What happens next month?” I ask.

“Hearthstone Festival,” Flynt says. “It’s a massive celebration that culminates in a ball for members from all four of the Families and their entourages. People come from all over, some for the ball itself, some just to be around the atmosphere. It gets bigger every year.”

Anthene nods. “It’s set to celebrate the true arrival of spring. Biggest event in Oosal. Bigger here than New Dawn.”

“New Dawn?” I raise my eyebrow and Flynt chuckles at that.

Flynt chuckles at that. “I forget you don’t know anything. It’s… how would you describe it?” He looks at Meg.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Hell.”

Tyrus scoffs. “It celebrates the death of the Dragon Age and the dawn of the current age. It’s biggest in the capital. Less celebrated down here in the south, though you still have your magic displays and street fairs.”

“I’ve never been much a fan myself,” Anthene says with a shrug. “It’s good for business, though. But food will be out soon. I’ll tell Nyssa you’re here. She might take you to the back after you eat, given how busy we are.”

“That’s fair,” Flynt says. “Just let us know.”

Food is some kind of hot pie, which is just as tasty as any hot pie. I long ago decided I didn’t want to know what any of the meat was in this place; I just eat what is given to me and don’t ask too many questions. It feels like the safest option. This tastes like some kind of fish, which is tender and flaky and a little bit sweet in the aftertaste, which may be the cream sauce or could be some kind of spice. It could even be the fish itself, who knows.

Silence falls around the table as we all realize how hungry we are. Then, we comfortably drink in that quiet, watching people around the tavern as we wait, leaning against each other in our booth: me and Flynt side to side, Jonas against Meg, Tyrus against Jonas, Tyrus starting to drift off to sleep only to occasionally startle back to wakefulness and take another swig of his fourth ale.

Again, I’m struck by our closeness and the casual camaraderie, and I smile slightly as I meet Meg’s gaze across the table. She looks content, but also a little bit sad; Meg always looks a little bit sad around the edges. It’s hard to explain. She’s not especially open about her backstory, but every now and then she’ll let something slip. Mostly to me, though I suspect Jonas knows a good amount that he just has been more discreet about than any of us would necessarily give him credit for.

“I think we’re being beckoned.” Flynt’s voice just above my head startles me and I look over toward the hallway near the bar where Nyssa stands, catching our gazes with a gentle wave.

Nyssa is an elf like I am, and about my height: five-ten, with long dark hair that curls over light brown shoulders, and narrow, dark brown eyes. She has the statuesque build of an eighties supermodel.

We all stand, leaving our dishes for someone from the kitchen to clear away, but a group of people sweep in the moment we stand and settle into the booth before a busboy can even make it halfway there.

“You all look tired,” Nyssa says as we approach

“Don’t we usually?” Meg asks, and we follow her down the hallway to her office.

Nyssa’s office looks more like a small library, with filled bookshelves along three of the walls and a large desk that looks like it belongs in the White House. The room is big enough for all of us to fit comfortably, and we each take a seat around the low coffee table off to one side while Nyssa leans back against her desk.

“It’s a busy night so I’m going to get straight to it,” Nyssa says. “We have an excavation team in the Solemn Mountains that hasn’t reported in for some time. We need you to go and see if you can find out what has happened to them.”

“I expect you all to pay up later,” I say, glancing around at everyone as the others groan about losing the bet.

Nyssa pauses, and looks like she can’t decide whether to be annoyed or to laugh.

“Insightful of you,” she remarks, before clearing her throat and lifting a medium sized book from her desk. She hands it toward us. I’m the group inventory, so I carefully take it from her. “That’s a simultaneous journal. It will allow us to communicate while you’re away. Its range covers all of Qeth, so there shouldn’t be any issues. Let me know as soon as you find anything.”

“What is the excavation team looking for?” Flynt asks.

“That’s not important.”

Meg folds her arms, her lips pressing together in a line. “You have to trust us eventually.”

“And I do. The journal is a good sign of that. Trust me when I say it’s ultimately in your best interest if you don’t know. Depending on what you find, I may be able to read you in after.”

“I’ve been studying the maps,” I say. “The Solemn Mountains are where Dragon’s Pass is, right?” Nyssa and Flynt both nod.

“Are they searching for Dragon Wars artifacts?” Meg asks.

“I cannot say. Again. What they’re searching for is not your mission. Finding them is.”

“What if something happened to them?” Jonas asks.

“Do what you can to discover what, then report back to me. Don’t take any action you don’t have to without my go ahead, understood? This is a higher-level team, they're a bit more experienced than you. If something happened to them, I don't want you to go charging into it without consulting me first.”

“Understood,” Flynt says, casting a glance around each of us. “Do you have a map of their whereabouts?”

Nyssa nods. “I tucked one in the book directing to their last known location. My hope is something happened to their journal and this is all an overreaction. But…”

“I think we all know that’s probably not the case,” Tyrus says, frowning.

“Probably not. Is this something you’re up for?”

“It’s not collecting flowers,” Jonas says. “I think we’re excited about that.” At Nyssa’s expression he clears his throat. “To the extent we can be excited about others going missing, I mean. It’s… an unfortunate situation to be sure.”

“Just be safe about it. There have been more reports of bandits off the Western Road, to say nothing of the increased creature activities. But stick to the roads. Play it smart and safe. Understand?”

“We’ll do what we can,” Flynt promises, standing, motioning for us to do the same. Nyssa nods at us and stands as well, effectively seeing us out and closing the door behind us. It’s quick, clean, and unceremonious.

We all stand in the hallway looking at each other for a long moment, anxious electricity buzzing through us, and then we all look down to the book in my hands. It’s the size of my high school yearbook, and wrapped in a clean maroon leather cover. On the spine is the stylized ‘Z’ that matches the one on the letter seals. It hums with trust and possibility. This is one step closer—though to what, I don’t think any of us can say.