As we come out from behind the waterfall, Flynt immediately recognizes the area as being not that far outside the eastern edge, and we follow the narrow river down from the foothills toward the nearest entrance, which the sign arching over it identifies as “Eastern Gate.” How creative.

Judging by the sun, it’s what I would call about four o’ clock in the afternoon, and we have a brief debate about what to do next: do we go straight to the municipal building, or do we let the Kartesian crew know that we have (so far as we know anyway) put an end to the disappearances. Tyrus insists that’s necessary, so Meg goes with him toward the docks while the rest of us continue toward the city center.

“Your party works quickly,” Layrus observes as we’re called up with our writs ready. She pulls out a large book and a quill pen with some ink, then turns it to Flynt. “For non-bounty postings we need a full accounting of the adventure, including what you discovered, how you dealt with it, and any evidence that may be left behind. Be thorough, but please keep it to a page.”

She directs us to some counter height tables against the wall, reminiscent of where I took my written driver’s test when I first moved to California. We crowd around one trying to decide what we’re going to say.

“Keep it straight-forward and to the point,” Jonas whispers. “I’d leave out the Kartesians.”

“No argument from me there,” Flynt agrees, dipping the quill into the ink. We report on finding the spider nest, how we killed five ice spiders, and discovered the remains of seven people wrapped up in their webs. We also note the belongings we found and the fact that we destroyed the nest and egg sacs with a fire spell. “Do we mention the shrine? It’s beyond the brief.”

I frown. “Didn't Meg say there were bounties on them?”

“She did, and there are, but it would definitely be a minor investigation.”

I frown harder. Not mentioning it feels wrong and a bit more... murder hobo than I'd like... but if Flynt is waffling about whether to write it down, then maybe it's okay? I don't understand the rules here.

“If we don’t mention it, will we get into trouble?” I ask.

“Hard to say. I don’t think they’d necessarily be able to trace it back to us. But I don’t know how I feel about the idea of lying to the authorities.” He glances back toward the desk where Layrus is helping a tiny, androgynous person with sharply pointed features and blue-green hair. They look like some kind of imp or fairy, if storybooks are anything to go on. “What would Meg do?”

“She would leave it out,” Jonas says, slowly. “There’s no reason to believe that the cult is connected to the disappearances, and as you said, there's a bounty but from what she's said in the past, it's rarely enough to be worth the trouble of collecting it. The shrine was corrupted and seemed to be all but forgotten. If the cult is operating out of it, there's no reason to even believe the bodies will still be there anyway. And if for some reasons they do end up finding the bodies, they’ll see pretty quickly that they’re Ice Dragon Cultists and not ask any more questions.” Jonas looks between us. “Meanwhile, if we say something, we’re likely to spend the evening answering a lot more questions. I’d rather not do that.”

“Okay.” Flynt nods and simply reports returning to the municipal building as directed by the writ.

We return the book to Layrus, who takes a quick read of the truncated account, nods once, and wordlessly stands, taking it into the back. We wait for probably ten minutes before she returns, a book under one arm and a coin pouch in the other hand. She places both on the table before folding her arms and looking between us meaningfully.

“Do you have any evidence of these spiders?” she asks.

We glance around at one another. Flynt is about to answer before I remember, “Yes! Yes, we do.” I open up my bag and pull out the [Vial of Ice-Spider Venom]. “Venom. From the largest of the giant spiders.”

Flynt gives me a where did you get that look as I put the vial on the desk, and she picks it up, peering at it. The liquid inside looks a little like mercury, except it has a light blue, glittery tint to it. She whispers something in a language I don’t know, and her eyes seem to gleam for a moment as she inspects the vial before she blinks and they return to normal. She offers a small smile and hands it back to me.

“Well done, then.” She presents Flynt with the pouch of coins, which he passes off to me. Both the pouch and the spider venom go into my bag, quickly disappearing once I close the flap. “Two-hundred silver pieces. Spend it well. Hope to see you return soon. We’ll have more postings tomorrow I expect.”

“That’s fairly quick, isn’t it?” Flynt asks.

Layrus nods. “There’s been an up-tick in activity lately. No one is quite sure why. But between the cult, giant sightings, the disappearances, and the crime on the high roads, something sure seems to be going on. Everyone is a little on edge. It’s a good time for new adventurers to be coming into their own, that’s for sure.” She smiles at us. Well. She smiles at Flynt and then casts her gaze casually over us. “Do check back. Oosal could use you.”

We thank her and head out.

“She sure likes you,” Jonas says, nudging Flynt with an elbow.

Flynt shakes his head. “She likes the idea of who Da is.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“Our Emporium has been around for a very long time,” Flynt says, “and Da is a fairly long-lived elf.”

“How long-lived?” Jonas asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Well. I’m his third family.”

Jonas whistles between his teeth. “That has to be complicated. Can’t imagine having a parent who lives hundreds of years.”

“Must be hard for him too,” I agree. “Knowing you’re likely to outlive your children.”

Flynt clears his throat a little. “Those are uncomfortable conversations, yes. But because he’s been around for so long, he’s a pretty well-respected member of the community. Oosal doesn’t have a city council the way most of the northern cities do, but if it did, Da would be pretty high on it.”

“Despite being an elf.”

“Yes. Despite being an elf. And having an orkish son. You wouldn’t know he was an elf if it weren’t for his ears. He’s outgoing and personable, and he doesn’t have a lot of patience for elvish isolationism. It’s why he and Nyssa have always gotten on. People like that and want to make an impression with him.”

We enter the Wide Sky Tavern, where we agreed to wait for the others. Nyssa greets us from behind the bar as we wander to the back and plop ourselves into the same booth where we first met a couple days earlier.

“Fruitful day?” she asks, stopping by our table, surveying each of us with a slightly raised eyebrow. “All three of you look exhausted. Where’s the tall angry one and the dwarf?”

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

“Doing some housekeeping by the docks,” Flynt replies. “They should be here soon. In the meantime, ale for all of us and today’s hot pie.”

“Cider for me,” I correct, and she nods. She seems like she wants to say something but decides against it and disappears. She’s not alone behind the bar today: an average height, pale man with sandy brown hair and full sleeve tattoos is talking with some customers, grinning ear to oddly shaped ear. They’re not quite pointed, not like elvish or orkish ears, but they’re definitely not human.

“Who’s that?” I nod my head toward the bar.

“That’s Anthene,” Flynt says. “I guess he finally came back.”

“What’s his deal?”

Flynt sighs. “He’s fae. A few hundred years old but acts like a child. He’s worked for Nyssa for at least a hundred years and knows she’d never let him go, so he takes advantage of that sometimes.”

“He’s the one that was on a walkabout?”

“Seems so.”

“You don’t seem to like him.”

“I don’t know him very well,” Flynt says, “but I find him challenging to talk to.”

“Why’s that?”

“His typical approach to conversation is to flirt. Anthene flirts with anyone who moves.”

“You don’t find that flattering?” Jonas asks.

“I really don’t.” A glower might be too strong a word for Flynt’s expression, but it certainly isn’t sunny. “To Anthene, a ‘no’ is a ‘maybe next time,’ and I find that hard to stomach.”

I nod. “I can’t disagree with you there. Maybe I’ll steer clear.”

“Everyone is welcome to their own opinion,” Flynt says.

“And your opinion is…”

“Not favorable.”

“That sounds like an understatement,” Jonas says. “But I suddenly really want to see him interact with Meg. If that’s his attitude, it will be something hilarious to watch. She doesn’t have time for that, even if she likes the person.”

“Wait.” I grin at him. “You’re saying Meg actually likes people?”

Jonas scoffs. “Of course she does. She likes you.”

“Oh. Jonas. I’m really not sure she does.”

“That’s because you’re a bit of a disaster, Keira. No offense. She wouldn’t give you the time of day if she didn’t, much less check in with you. I don’t know why she likes you, but she does.”

“Oh gee, thanks.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He groans, soliciting a chuckle from Flynt. “I meant that I can’t tell you what it is about you that she responds to.”

“You make that sound like it’s better, but it’s really just the same thing.”

“Okay, how’s this, then. There are many things to like about you, Keira, and I don’t know which things, in particular, are what make Meg think you’re someone likable. But there are things that she responds to. There. Does that help?”

“Not especially, but I’m going to give it to you because it’s unnerving how red your face is turning.” And it’s true—his complexion has taken on a flushed undertone, the likes of which has to burn.

“You’re plenty likable,” Flynt tells me. “Even if Jonas can’t articulate it.”

“Thanks. Sometimes, I’m not so sure, but thanks.”

“What about us?” Jonas asks.

“I mean. I like you,” I reply. “You’re fun and he’s kind.”

“Kind,” Flynt repeats.

“It’s a high compliment.”

His brow furrows deep over his bright, steel-colored eyes while his dark hair falls over his forehead and brushes the tips of his ears. His elbows rest on the table, arms folded across it so that each large hand clasps a bicep. I barely notice the fact he isn’t human, not that I am, either, I suppose.

But yes. Kind. That’s the adjective I’m sticking with.

“I dunno, I’m happy being fun,” Jonas says, grinning as his gaze drifts between the two of us in a way that makes my cheeks flush. “I don’t know that it’s true. But I like it.”

“You’re easily one of the most pleasant people I’ve ever met,” Flynt says.

I snap. “Pleasant. That’s an even better word.”

“Pleasant?” Jonas wrinkles his nose. “That is not as fun as fun. Is this like being a cinnamon roll?”

I nod. “Exactly.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“It means that you are exceedingly easy to be around,” I tell him. “People want to spend time with you. You’re nice, but even better than that.”

“And I’m not pleasant?” Flynt asks.

“It’s not an either-or thing. You can be kind and pleasant. Pleasant just isn’t your top defining attribute.”

“But kind is.”

“Yes.”

“Ah. There’re the drinks,” Jonas interrupts.

“Nyssa,” Flynt says, “do you think I’m kind?”

She pauses as she puts the mugs on the table and cocks her hip as she looks at him, then me, then back to Flynt. “Is that what she’s telling you?”

“Yes.”

“I’d take the compliment, Naszhu,” she replies, smiling slightly as she puts the last cup down in front of me. I’ve never heard the term in my life, but I know immediately what it means: nephew, far removed. “And you shouldn’t tease him.” I mock press my hand against my chest then grin at her as she shakes her head. “The food will be out soon. I put in extra orders for your friends when they get here.”

“Thanks, Nyssa,” Flynt says.

I watch as she glides away, and smirk as she swats a cloth at Anthene who wards it off, laughing before disengaging with the pair of patrons he was talking with. Flynt lifts his mug and clinks it against mine and Jonas’s, prompting each of us to drink with him. The cider is light and dry, with just the hint of a sweet finish. I can see it being trouble.

“Ah. And there they are,” Jonas says.

Flynt and I follow his gaze across the room to where Meg and Tyrus are entering. Meg pauses by the bar to, I assume, put in an order, while Tyrus collects something from a basket by the door before continuing toward us. Jonas scooches over closer to Flynt, and Tyrus slides into the booth, positioning himself on a thick cushion that helps him with the human-height table. I hadn’t noticed it before, but it makes sense. Meg joins moments later, sitting on the edge across from me. She meets my gaze and seems to relax a little, though they both look… frazzled.

“You two okay?” Jonas asks.

Meg nods curtly. “Fine.”

“We, uh, have more to add to the pot,” Tyrus adds.

“More?”

“Coin. The Family was… pleased.”

As he says that, there’s a little ping at the bottom of my vision.

> [SPECIAL ACHIEVEMENT: PILLOW FIGHT REFEREE.]

Pillow fight? What could that even mean?

Flynt glances between them. “Why do you say it like that?”

“We tried to not accept,” Meg says. “We don’t want to get involved. But. They wouldn’t take no.”

I look between them. “What happened?”

“They took us to a house,” Tyrus explains. “On the west end of the docks district. Real nice. Townhome style. With the porches? It had those ice vines growing up along the sides of it. Looked real pretty in the snow.”

Meg puts a hand on his arm. “We met with Lirah Kartesian. She insisted. Apparently, one of the missing was a cousin. So, in other words, he was pretty high up in the organization. She was happy to have his body home. Come to find out, our discovery of the ice spider nest and the cultists stopped a potential street war in the docks. They were blaming the Rizzari Syndicate.”

Jonas looks confused. “I thought they were up in Ruska.”

“Apparently, they’re trying to get inroads south here. I don’t know. I have more information on it all than I want, and I firmly commit to drinking it into oblivion.” Meg reaches forward and takes Jonas’s mug, swallowing the remains of it without any protest. “She gave us fifty gold pieces and said she would remember what we did for their organization.”

Flynt chokes at that and I clap him on the back as he tries to catch his breath between coughs.

“Well. At least we’re not on the shit list, right?” I ask. “Bright side?”

“But now the head of the most notorious family in the south knows, at the very least, our faces.” Meg motions between her and Tyrus.

Flynt cringes at that and slides his mug across to our dwarven team member, who takes it appreciatively just before Nyssa comes over with a full tray of additional drinks. A large, half-orkish man in an apron carries a tray filled with hot pies.

“Oh, praise, Nyssa.” Meg’s voice sounds relieved. “Thank you.”

The elven tavern owner gives a tight-lipped smile as she distributes the drinks and meals, then pats Meg on the shoulder before she leaves. Did Meg tell Nyssa about her run-ins with the Kartesians? Or is that something Nyssa may have heard about elsewhere? Honestly, that wouldn’t really surprise me— I know nothing about how things work here, and I know nothing about Nyssa’s background, but if she doesn’t have some kind of underworld contact, I will die of shock.

We drink and eat in silence. All of us, I think, are surprised by just how famished we are after the day’s events. Even with our cultist murders still fresh in my mind, I eat my meat and ale pie so quickly I almost don’t even taste it. Meanwhile, the tavern is filling up, a dull roar starting to rise around us as the dinner rush begins.

Sitting there, together like that, I try to ignore the subtle cues from my compatriots: the way that Tyrus and Jonas sit so close to one another that Tyrus’s shoulder leans against Jonas’s arm despite there being plenty of room to spread out, and then there’s the silent communication happening between Flynt and Meg as our default leaders have an unspoken debate on how to proceed following this afternoon. I can’t help but feel a little left out, though maybe I’m reading too much into it.

Flynt finishes his meal and wipes his mouth with a napkin before clearing his throat. “We should meet at the Emporium. It’s the best place to regroup.”

Meg nods. “I agree. Plus, we can finally get Keira a change of clothing.”

“Yeah, that’s not embarrassing at all.”