“Good morning.”

The voice greets Demy just as he reaches the bottom of the staircase, startling him a little. He brushes his messy hair back from his bleary eyes, still sensitive to the morning light that streams through the windows of the Moonpeak Inn. Sitting at one of the tables near the kitchen entrance is the Dwarf from the night before, the one that Cashew stole the pouch from.

“Oh, hey. You’re, uh… Red?” Demy asks, voice uncertain. The rest of the tavern seems to be entirely empty, save for the noises of the workers making breakfast in the back, and of course the Dwarf. He wasn’t really anticipating anyone to be awake yet and was hoping to have a peaceful meal before the other, louder people showed up to “discuss” the whole expedition thing.

“Wren,” the Dwarf responds. Sitting on the table in front of them is a plate of typical Loxian breakfast: Toasted bread, eggs, sausages, some stewed beans. They bring a steaming mug to their lips and take a sip of some kind of dark, acrid liquid that makes Demy’s nose twitch.

“Sorry. I’m not good with names,” Demy apologizes and takes a seat opposite them at the table. He takes a moment to survey the spread of food before asking, “Is it any good?”

“Not bad. I almost forgot that this place is a colony of Kattelox, but this proves it,” Wren says, motioning down at their plate. “I don’t know how they can eat two pounds of random leftovers in the morning and not just fall asleep afterward.”

Demy lets out a soft snort, before saying, “I miss breakfast from home. Sirniki–little fritters made with cheese, some sour cream and jam on top? Instead, Loxians have… beans.”

Wren chuckles. “Those sound really good. You’re from Phyleris, right? I think I had something like those for breakfast when we were there a few months back. And your name–”

“What kind of breakfast did you have growing up?” Demy asks, interrupting Wren and moving the subject away from himself.

“Whatever we had,” Wren says quietly before taking a bite of sausage. They do not elaborate.

“Oh,” Demy says simply. An awkward silence hangs heavy between the two for a few seconds before it is thankfully interrupted by one of the tavern workers sticking their head out of the kitchen door and asking Demy what he wants for food.

“Meat, eggs, toast. No beans!” Demy replies. He quickly adds, “And a pitcher of ale!”

Wren waits until the worker disappears again before looking at Demy quizzically and asking, “Ale? This early?”

Demy seems to consider this for a moment, perhaps searching for the right response. With a smirk, he says, “Hair of the dog.” He then begins to cackle, as if telling a particularly funny joke.

“You’ll just end up sicker that way. Get some coffee, that’ll help sober you up,” Wren explains, smiling as they watch the scruffy half-asleep man laugh like an idiot.

“Ugh, more beans,” Demy laments, perking up a bit as his food–and ale–are brought out. He pours himself a mug from the pitcher and takes a long swill of it. He motions toward Wren’s mug of coffee dismissively and says, “I’ll stick with the tried and true, thank you. That stuff’s not good for you anyway.”

Wren’s eyes wander to Demy’s plate, seeing that despite his specific instructions, it is the exact same as their own plate, beans and all. Demy follows their gaze, staring down at the splotch of legumes on his otherwise beautiful spread of meats.

Softy, simply, he says, “Stupid fart seeds.”

Wren can’t help but laugh out loud, unable to cease even as more of the group descend the stairs and make their way over to the table.

“You seem happy this morning,” Kaz teasingly says to Wren as she finds a seat at the table. A quick discussion with the waitress who comes out of the kitchen results in a plate of food in addition to a pitcher of water and an insulated container of coffee, as well as enough mugs to accommodate the group.

Wren, trying to explain through their laughter, can only manage to fumble out between gulps of air: “Beans.”

Kaz pours a cup of coffee and takes a sip, nodding along to Wren’s poor attempt at communication. “Sure, right. Makes sense how that would give you the giggles. ‘Beans,’ uh-huh,” she says mockingly.

Dahlia pulls herself up into one of the chairs beside Demy, sniffing the air. “Smells good, what’s for eats?” She asks, looking around curiously.

“All kinds of stuff, but, hey–Goblin, uh, person?” Demy asks uncertainly.

“Dahlia,” she answers, watching Wren still choking on laughter.

“Dahlia, cool–you like beans?” He asks.

“Ya,” she answers simply.

“Great, here,” Demy says and holds up his plate above Dahlia’s head. “Open wide.”

Dahlia opens her admittedly wide mouth as Demy scrapes the beans off his plate and into her open maw. She chomps down on them happily, letting out a muffled, simple utterance: “Beans.”

Wren, who was just about to stop, tumbles into another fit of laughter at this display.

Kaz snorts a bit, which is high praise from her when it comes to comedy.

“Hey, can someone help me with this?”

The others look up, seeing Cashew slowly making his way down the steps, holding up a disheveled, mostly-still-asleep Addy.

“Holy Kel, what happened?” Kaz asks, standing up quickly and making her way over to help.

“M’jus’tire’,” Addy mumbles sleepily, leaning on Cashew’s shoulder.

“I found her passed out on the floor,” Cashew explains, straining to hold her up. Kaz gently lifts her up from being slumped onto the Halfling’s shoulder–only to have her slump against Kaz, mumbling something incoherent about waste baskets before she begins to snore once again.

“What’s wrong with her?” Kaz asks.

“I think she’s just stupid,” Cashew mutters.

“Professor Rhys is not much of a morning person,” Felix explains, appearing at the top of the staircase. “Most of her lectures are performed during the afternoon–or evening.”

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

“Told you,” Cashew says.

Kaz practically carries Addy over to the table and props her up in the chair beside Wren, who doesn’t seem to mind all that much when Addy slumps over onto them sleepily.

“So she’s nocturnal,” Wren says with a smile.

“Night owl,” Dahlia says, now chomping on her own plate of food.

“She’s been like this ever since she managed to figure out how that ‘artificial light’ works,” Felix explains, making his way to the table where the others are. “She’ll wake up eventually and she knows the situation, so.”

He considers his thoughts for a moment while the others eat in expectant silence. Finally, he says, “Not only is this expedition an academic matter, but it is also of political importance. There are numerous governments and groups who would like to know what secrets are here upon the Heart of Vale, but none of them are willing to risk such a venture, especially as Kattelox has claim to this land due to this settlement being a colony of ours.

“Our first attempt met with failure, as we were unprepared for the resistance that we would face. Professor Rhys and I were the only survivors. However, it helped us understand the importance of having those of adequate power and ability. Everyone here seems to be competent in situations that have turned violent–or at least claim to be,” he says, casting a glance over everyone.

“What kind of creatures attacked the first expedition?” Kaz asks, directly across the table from Felix. “In fact, what kind of creatures are on this island?”

“Mm, that’s right. The rest of you haven’t seen them yet,” Felix says. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes for a long moment. Then, he begins to explain, “They’re humanoids of various types. Elves, Dwarves, mostly Humans. Generally naked, though they all seem to be sexless. They seem comatose until something draws their attention, when they become extremely violent.”

“So they’re just random people?” Wren asks, confused.

“Yes, and no. There are commonalities amongst all of them,” Felix begins.

“They have no pupils and their mouths are full of serrated, triangular teeth. Like shark’s teeth,” Addy suddenly says, sitting upright but still looking as tired and disheveled as before.

Felix nods solemnly and continues, “They are also incredibly strong and agile, with hands and feet capable of becoming elongated and sharp, like claws. They are heavily resistant to damage, physical or otherwise. Once what they consider to be a threat has been neutralized, they become comatose once again. They don’t appear to require sustenance, nor do they seem to grow tired.

“There have been a few attacks on Tarn’s Rest, normally from those who venture outside and flee back to the town in an attempt to escape the creatures. Which is why the town is so hesitant to allow just anyone to leave, you see. We had one of our colleagues, an expert in physiology, open one up that we managed to kill, but not before it had ripped through a dozen townspeople and guards to get after a child that had not heeded their parents’ warnings and gone outside the walls to play.”

“The kid…?” Demy asks, only to be answered by a long silence. He drains the rest of his mug of ale and pours another.

“What were the insides like?” Dahlia asks, eyes big and curious.

“They were unlike anything we’d ever seen!” Addy says, now hungrily tearing into her breakfast as she seems to have woken up from the conversation. “Some organs were completely missing, while others were in different places, or multiplied! The one we opened had three separate hearts. There were some organs we couldn’t even identify.”

“Not to mention that we ruined three different sets of surgical equipment working on the thing,” Felix adds.

“And a large group of these things suddenly ambushed you?” Kaz asks, her arms crossed.

Felix smiles at the question and says, “Correct. We’re unsure if they congregated due to some individual running from–and into–numerous of them, or if they were perhaps placed that way purposefully.”

“Placed there? You really think those things are here to guard something?” Cashew asks suspiciously.

“Hence our curiosity on the matter,” Felix answers.

“Hm,” the Halfling hums, thinking as he absently plays with the remainder of his food. Finally, he simply says, “Cool.”

“Who knows what they might be guarding,” Wren mutters, salivating at the prospect of what such a discovery might be worth. “When are we going?”

“Not soon, I hope,” Kaz interjects, nodding toward the nearby window and the snow that continues to fall heavily outside. “Marching in this weather would be more dangerous than those creatures.”

“Arguable, but no, I don’t intend to travel in these conditions. Kelaren is already a quarter through, then we have the Spring Festival. The weather should turn after that, so presumably, we’ll leave once that happens, likely a few days into Pryne,” Felix explains.

“Wait, that means we’re just going to sit around for a month?” Cashew asks, irritated. “Our lodging–”

“–Will be paid for the entire time, until we can begin the expedition. Do not worry,” Felix finishes.

“But it’s boring here!” Dahlia whines, laying her head on the table. “There isn’t a mushroom in this entire town.”

“I don’t know about mushrooms, but if you’re bored, I certainly could use some help,” says a voice as the front door of the inn opens. Bernadette walks in, looking just as ready for trouble as she did the night before in her full armor and large sword slung across her back.

“Ah, Miss Bernadette. I trust you aren’t going to suggest anything dangerous, as I do require these individuals for my own matters,” Felix says, cheerful but faintly threatening.

“If it wasn’t a little dangerous at least, I wouldn’t need them,” Bernadette responds, giving Felix a chill glance. “Besides, I lost several able-bodied people to your last expedition and we’re even more short-handed around here because of it.”

The corner of Felix’s mouth twitches slightly but he does not address her directly, instead turning back to the table, “Well, it is their prerogative what to spend their time and energy on until the expedition, as long as it doesn’t interfere with their eventual duties.”

“I’ll do what I want,” Cashew mutters angrily, clearly not enjoying the talk of him being beholden to anyone or anything.

“What kind of help are you needing? Is there a reward?” Wren asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I would pay for your help, yes,” Bernadette answers.

“Does it involve going outside the town?” Dahlia asks, standing up in her chair eagerly.

“I–yes, it does,” Bernadette admits, which makes Felix bristle visibly.

“Well, you all discuss your endeavors. I have my own to take care of–just don’t die on me,” Felix says tersely before standing up abruptly and leaving the table, returning upstairs.

“Oh, you made him mad,” Addy warns, looking at Bernadette.

She responds by snorting, tail flicking in irritation, and says, “Not like it’s hard to upset a noble. Look, I’ll tell you what I need help with and you can decide if it’s worth what I’m offering, okay? Unlike his kind, I don’t own you just because I paid for your services.”

“Even if it does involve us encountering trouble, it might be best if we have some practice with those things before we commit to a full-on expedition of this region,” Kaz considers. She adds, “It might also be wise for us to gain some experience in working together.”

“Bonding. Great,” Demy mutters into his ale unenthusiastically.

“Yeah!” Wren says, full of the enthusiasm that Demy clearly is lacking. “What are we doing–and more importantly, what are we getting paid?”

“We can discuss the price, but I’ll just say that I have more coin than people to pay, right now,” Bernadette says, earning a grin from Wren as well as the attention of Cashew. She takes a deep breath, thinking of how to phrase her request, before finally telling the group:

“I want you to find out just why in the Nine’s grace that Tarn Southgate spent his entire fortune and the last few years of his life just to build a manor on this barren hellscape.”