The deeper we rode into the Dellends, the more barren the landscape became. The sporadic patches of yellow grass were gone, and the skeletal remains of trees became sparse. There were no bandits on the road or beastkin waiting in ambush. There was just… nothing. The only landmark was the distant mountains, standing tall like stone arrowheads. As we rode, our galloping kicked up fine, grey dust that coated our clothes, skin and lungs, taking years off our lives.

By noon on the second day, the outline of buildings appeared on the horizon. I was grateful; it gave our party more company for our misery. Thor and the horses were covered in the trail dust, sneezing out the grey specks that went up their noses. The rest of us wrapped handkerchiefs around our faces. It helped, but not much.

Steeltown was unlike any other settlement I’ve seen, and I’d seen at least one. Most towns developed around the manor house of the land's Lord, leading to a hierarchy where wealth and power were concentrated in the centre and flowed outwards. This place was different.

The Vangraves' weak hold on the land led to Steeltown's creation closer to the mountains, where the first veins of iron were discovered. As we rode into town, each building we passed was unique, made of repurposed wood and other salvaged materials that gave the place a feeling of impermanence. It was as if the residents knew that this town, like themselves, lived on borrowed time.

It was on many of their faces, that look of resignation—washed-out men and women who showed early signs of heavy metal poisoning. There were other looks, hard expressions from men who looked like they spent more time in the tavern than the mines. These men patrolled the streets, keeping the thin veneer of order alive while looking like the ones who started the trouble.

"Mining cartel goons," Castille said under her breath. "Doubtful they do much mining."

"Not a regular guard in sight. I don't get it. Why doesn't the King bring in the military and kick out the cartels?" I asked.

"The King is busy with the war," Isla said, an edge to her voice. "Besides, the Vangraves still pay the annual tithe. They provide a surplus of gold and metals to compensate for the lack of men."

She looked around, scanning the sprawling town with her mouth set in a frown.

"Whatever the cartels don’t give to the Vangraves is used to fund all this."

"Let's find an inn. We can gather information and get off the street," I said.

In front of me on horseback, Dugan nodded. He looked down at Thor. He had it the hardest during our journey, being closest to the ground and dust that caked his fur. Isla had decided not to create water when we made camp yesterday. She was trying to dull her instinct to use Landbound magic to solve all our problems.

Thor looked up at Dugan and me with hard, resolved eyes. Eyes that said he could continue to endure. I believed him.

"Yes, boss," Castille said with a sarcastic edge, falling into her role as my bodyguard.

Dugan's horse led as we rode further into town at a slow trot. As always, I received plenty of stares, some for being a half-elf, others for riding on the back of another man's horse. I tried not to mind; it fit my cover as a foppish elf merchant.

As we reached the town’s centre, we found one stone building. The Sanctifier Guildhall looked like a smaller version of the one in the capital. Its’ sharp, steepled roof towered over the other structures. Its’ walls were made of the same uniform grey stone as the buildings in Southsun and the capital.

Was there a special quarry where they mined the stuff?

My stomach fluttered at the sight of the building. They would know we were in Steeltown now, and, thanks to their enchanted books, they could relay that information to the inquisitor. I would have to check my book for new announcements tonight.

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On the other side of the street was an inn simply called the Pit. The wide, two-storey building was assembled from mismatched wood; some planks sun-darkened from years of Luskainian summers, others bone white like the trees we rode by to get into town. Large windows on the first floor of the building invited the noon sunlight. We dismounted and tied off our horses, ripping the handkerchiefs off our faces and wiping off the dust.

I let Castille lead the way into the inn with Isla and Dugan on either side. Thor hung back with the horses. We would need to find some way to clean the pack animal before the day was through.

As we entered, I rubbed my eyes, blinking in disbelief. The inside of the Pit was finely furnished, with the wooden décor stained and polished in a rich, dark brown hue. The first floor was a tavern with round tables and chairs evenly spaced on the wooden boards, offset by a bar against the left wall. Beside the bar, a job request board was set up. It was covered in unclaimed contracts; adventuring work didn’t pay as well as other jobs in the Dellends.

A handful of patrons nursed their cups at the bar while women in gaudy dresses waited around the tables. They perked up as we entered. A young woman with light brown hair and dark circles under her eyes greeted our group and showed us to a table in the back corner near the staircase to the second floor.

Something was off. The women were not customers, and there were too many for them all to be waitresses. The truth became clear when a red-headed woman in her thirties sauntered to our table.

She flashed us a well-practiced smile. Age had done little to diminish her beauty. She put her fiery hair in an updo and wore a dress of a similar hue.

"Welcome to the Pit. If I may ask, are you here for a short or long stay?"

"Short stay?" Isla asked.

The eyes of the surrounding women glanced at our table.

"This is a brothel," I said.

The woman's smile deepened.

"We are a brothel, tavern and inn. I am Cassandra Newveil, manager and madame, at your service."

"And which service is best?" Castille asked.

Cassandra inclined her head to Castille and smiled.

"Everything is exceptional. Everything is on offer."

Castille stared at Cassandra and turned to Dugan with a pleading look in her eyes. He returned her look with a slight smile and nod.

"I would like to see these services," Castille said, turning back to Cassandra.

"That can be arranged."

Cassandra turned to the rest of the table.

"The young woman who seated you, Denise, will help you with the rest of your arrangements."

She took Castille by the hand and led her upstairs.

Isla and I exchanged confused looks.

What is Dugan and Castille’s relationship?

Denise returned and took our request to stay at the inn. The second floor was split between two wings of rooms based on the type of customer: the left side for short stays and the right side for long stays. After paying for two rooms for the next couple of days, Isla left for our shared room, leaving me and Dugan at the table drinking overpriced mead.

As the man nursed his drink from across the table, I was at a loss for words. Something about my party members had that effect. Like Castille and Isla, Dugan and I were opposites in personality, but at least Isla talked. Dugan had only spoken two words in the weeks since we travelled together, and it wasn't even at me! I thrummed the table with my fingers, thinking of topics that would get him to talk.

I considered bringing up his relationship with Castille but didn’t want an axe between my eyes. With Isla, it was easy. She taught me magic, and now I was teaching her how to use a dagger—that gave us a lot to talk about. Castille's confident, sarcastic nature made our conversations flow naturally, but Dugan… was Dugan.

I stood up, making Dugan take his eyes off the bottom of his mug to stare up at me.

"I'm going to go get a lay of the land. You want to come?”

Dugan nodded, standing up and walking with me out the door. We brought Thor along as we walked the streets of Steeltown. The layout was simple once you looked past the haphazard construction of the buildings. The town was split into quarters. There was an Industrial Quarter for processing the minerals and ores mined from the mountains. There was a Service Quarter for merchants and inns like the Pit. Lastly, there were two Residential Quarters, one for the poor and another for the well-off.

As we walked the streets, I received the looks that I came to expect. Even at the cursed heart of the country, elves and half-elves were almost unheard of. This public appearance would help my cover as a new merchant visiting the town. It would also put a target on my back. Well, that’s what Dugan was for.

Walking around a corner in the Service Quarter, I bumped into what I first thought was a child. The man was shorter than Elmer, with stubby limbs and a large head that came up to my waist. I jumped back, hand on the handle of my cane.

He had an almond-brown face framed with wild tufts of dark brown hair on his cheeks. A strange bundle of white cloth wrapped around his head. He looked just as surprised to see me. His mouth hung open, revealing long, canine teeth. His green, catlike eyes were as wide as saucer plates.

He was half beastkin the way I was half-elf.

Another man walked around the corner, half a head taller than me and broad-shouldered. He examined me with his red catlike eyes, and the family resemblance became clear.

These were the Lagos brothers.