“That’s my cue,” Koraxe said.

  Rook glanced over his shoulder to respond to Koraxe, but the gnome was gone, and only the support beam and an empty mug remained. What the hell?

  He turned back to see the torokin stand proud. “Lieutenant Earth-Splinter Steelvein. Ever Vigilant.” He brought a fist to his heart in what Rook thought to be a crisp salute. Several patrons clapped at the beast man.

  A dark spot in the ceiling no bigger than a baseball rapidly grew just above the Torokins and leaked an inky ooze that rolled down the Torokin’s massive arm like a cloud until it pooled on the floor, rapidly forming into Koraxe. “Lieutenant Koreaxe, Gnomish Shade Reaper of the Sentinels. Ever Vigilant.” The gnome repeated the salute. Again, applause rang out.

  The female sentinel jumped on a nearby table with the grace of a cat. Then ran across the room until she was next to the duo. Rook was amazed as she used the most direct route, which just so happened to be on several shoulders and a high bar stool. Those she stepped on grumbled in protest, wiping off their shoulders with sweeping hands.

  “Lieutenant Gale Swiftstride of the Uldannish.” She removed her cowl and gave a crisp salute. A few patrons gasped, and a chair across the room scraped against the wooden floor as the patron got up to get a closer look.

  Erik was taken aback himself. “By the Old Gods? What is she?” He asked in awe, staring unblinking at the woman, her hair was a wavy green, which added a beautiful contrast to the blue and purple scales that covered the space behind her ears and the totality of her neck. As she turned left and right, light reflected from a nearby candle, creating a shimmering effect in the air.

  “She’s a Uldannish, the sea nymph race.” Reina flipped her journal open, faced it towards him, and smiled. “See?”

  Rook grabbed the leatherbound journal, opening it for both of them to see. Didn’t get to see the Reina book report prior to their last mission. Erik leaned in to get a closer look, and they both read.

  Uldannish, from the far reaches of Uldan, Isles of the Great Seas. These proud people live on both land and in the sea, using their water-breathing abilities for reef preservation, hunting, and gathering. Many do not like their similar cousins, the Uldakith, who use their abilities to conduct crime. They are naturally stealthy beings and love eating cuisines involving insects and sea critters.

  Rook looked below the detailed description at a sketch of both male and female Uldannish. Below that was a map with two circles on it. He pulled up his own internal map and was impressed by the detail in Reina’s drawing. “Wow, this is really good.”

  “How’d you find out all this information?’ Erik asked the enhancer.

  “Through speaking directly to the source. Here at the Ollar docks, the Swiftstride tribe lives,” she said proudly.

  “How come I haven’t seen any walking around the city?” Erik asked, his gaze never leaving the sea nymph.

  “They are not well-liked, since the Bloodstone agreement.” The sound of a potted plant crashing to the floor broke the silence.

  “What’s that fish woman doing here?! Put her back at the docks and pleasure houses!” An older sunbaked man wearing a sun-bleached black hat, with the symbol of a sun, said.

  “Sir, I’m a Sentinel Lieutenant, here to assist Yorthon—” Gale began.

  The man growled, pulling at the collar of his worn shirt as if he wasn’t used to wearing one. His rough fingers dragged across marks that resembled the brown stains of old blood. “Watch your mouth, fish blood. Just because you fucked or tricked your way to the top, don’t mean I gotta listen.” He smiled as a group of four similarly dressed crew laughed, clanking mugs at what they found to be a glorious insult.

  Jody’s mug slammed to the table, breaking the wood and shattering the cup. Ale spilled, gathering in a puddle on the tavern floor. As he was about to stand up, he stopped at Earth-Splinter’s voice.

  “Sea Raider bastard,” the torokin hissed. “Say that derogatory term one more time and I’m ripping your spine out.”

  “You can’t talk to me like that, bull man, we’re from The Helm guild.”

  The torokin stepped forward towards the captain, and to his credit, the man stood his ground. Resting his hand on the hilt of his saber.

  “Enough,” Jensen said with an even tone.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  A wave of unease washed through Rook, as if he were caught in a hurricane out at sea.

  The torokin backed off, lowering his head and twitching an ear. The Uldannish woman mouthed thank you to the beast man, who gave her a nod back.

  The group of warriors dressed in colored furs and leather armor jerked their heads at the man and his group of discount pirates. An old bald man with a patch over one scarred side of his face grimaced before standing and addressing the seafarer. “You’re no more than sea bandits, can’t be here making a fuss when your kind use the Uldak’ith as pirates.” He rotated a shoulder to fix a shield strapped across his back. The tower shield was set between two broad shoulders with white furs. “Now I came here to get some Intel on a new quest, and I intend to.” He waved a hand to the vice guild master. “If it’s all the same to you, please get on with it.”

  The sunbaked men around him were dressed in a similar fashion, all wearing the same black tabard with the symbol of a dragon breathing out fire on it. “We came here for a quest, not to hear the mutterings of Drunken sea raiders and their prejudices.” Another one of the slayers piped up.

  “You Slayers, and your glorified high ground. You think I’m afraid to fight you in Ollar? The Bloodstone bastards aren’t here right now, and neither are the guards.” The Helm leader tapped a busy thumb on the hilt of his weapon.

  “You should be afraid,” Phane’s voice commanded. “This is Ollar, not Stain. You wanna fight, you do it outside, or you fight me.” Phane drew his sword and glared beneath his visor.

  The Helm captain deflated. “You’re not worth it,” he said, sitting down, muttering something before taking a drink.

  “Good, I’d hate to dirty my sister’s bar.” Phane looked at Brianna and winked.

  “I do enjoy a good show, Dragon Slayer, but you’re right. If anyone dies, we lose a potential bidder.” With a smirk, he swept a hand across the room.

  Immediately, Rook felt the unknown stress that had been nagging at him melt away. Reina sank into her seat, and a serene calm overcame him and seemingly the room. Erik, too, gave an easy, satisfied smile.

  “Now. Calm down, take your seats, and prepare to bid.” He tapped the podium with his ring finger. “Who will give me ten gold for the chance at glory, at riches, fame, and to be a Lieutenant in the Sentinels?”

  “One hundred gold,” The Sea captain said aloud.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I hear one hundred gold. Do I hear two?”

  “Four hundred gold,” The Dragon Slayer leader responded.

  Rook’s head bounced this way and that with the heated bidding war. The leader of the Dragon Slayers stood up. “We’ll kill that Harpy Master, on my honor as a Dragon Slayer. Eight hundred and eighty gold, and we leave at first light.” He bowed, and the tavern erupted in a chorus of cheers.

  The Sentinels began dispersing from their spots on the podium. Calmly walking towards their original security places. Rook watched in a mix of horror and amazement as Koraxe’s body took on the consistency of an inky smoke, until his features became an indistinguishable blob, sinking into the floor as if there was a drain below him.

  He wasn’t alone in his shock; several onlookers’ faces were twisted in an unnerved confusion. The image of the street magician sticking a blade down his throat made Rook cringe. “That’s unnerving.”

  Koreaxe materialized next to Jody and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “That was almost fun, huh?” He asked. “Jody, we can handle trash like this. It’s not the Steppes, we don’t need you going crazy here in Ollar,” the gnome said, his orange goatee cracking in a smile.

  “Aye, I guess you’re right,” Jody responded, his shoulders slumping.

  “Whoa,” Erik said, between a few gulps of ale.

  Rook eyed the gnome with an uneasy glance. “You freak me out, man.”

  The sentinel laughed. “It’s just one of my many talents.”

  The tavern slowly emptied until only the regulars and the Sentinels remained.

  Westley held a small coin pouch up and tossed it to Brianna, who barely caught it. She frowned at the man until she looked inside.

  “What’s this for Westley?” She asked incredulously, handling the sack.

  “An inconvenience fee for the use of your tavern.” He looked around the room and regarded the small crowd. “Also, a round for everyone.”

  Rook was busy doing a rough estimate in his head, converting the gold to dollars. He didn’t want to be there all day racking his brain, so he stopped, but figured if a stay here is a couple of copper and a night, then thousands of gold would compare to fuck you money. Buy your own island money.

  Rook forgot that they were here to eat; had it not been for Brianna bringing another round of ale and the breakfast trays. “Sorry, it took so long. You’re not supposed to interrupt a quest auction.”

  The large plate consisted of last night’s meat stew, blackberries, and a loaf of that buttered bread he smelled. His stomach growled with anticipation as he dug in serving portions to his party.

  “Sorry,” he said, taking the plate away from Erik. “I didn’t mean to tease you.”

  Erik let out a hearty chuckle. “No worries, the last pilgrimage was a day or so ago.”

  As he suspected, the bread nearly melted in his mouth. Whatever cook was in Brianna’s kitchen knew to put their heart and soul into it.

  “I love the taste of freshly baked bread,” Rook said, savoring a bite of the buttery slice. “My grandfather used to bake bread for church functions, and it was a simple enough cast-iron loaf of sourdough.” Rook smiled, then took a long pull from his ale. “But I tell you, making that bread was some of the better memories I had with the man.” Rook paused to swallow the growing frog in his throat.

  “What a beautiful memory. I was an orphan,” Erik said, puffing out a breath. “I could tell how amazing your relationship was.”

  “It was anything but, man. He treated me like a bastard every day I knew him. He forced me into things I hated as a kid, from martial arts to mock survival training,” Rook said, taking another sip of ale. Then again, he did call in favors to the old judge to get me released. Rook thought as he stared into his ale. The swirling golden liquid beckoned him to take another drink. “We should finish before it gets cold.”

  “The man didn’t even pick me up in jail, let me find my own way out.”

  “You couldn’t have had that bad a relationship. I spent my summers as a child in the monastery praying away my lustful ways, as the monks put it.”

  “Did it work?” Rook asked.

  “No,” Erik said with a hearty laugh. “It made me raise my sneak skill getting in and out.

  “You spent time in jail?” Reina asked? “Fascinating.”

  “That’s what you heard?” Rook rolled his eyes, taking another pull of ale. “Yes, the first time I spent time in jail was for getting drunk, stealing a horse, and going for a joy ride through town. I ended up doing.” Rook thought about it for a minute. “A couple of gold in damages for taking down a powerline. Had to wait there until my trial a few weeks later.” He smiled, looking at Reina’s disgusted face. “The next time was for damages to a farmer’s field. Unfortunately, I did a lot of damage to his house too.”

  “Hmph,” Reina huffed. “Serves you right.” She dug into her stew and bread. Moments later, she smiled, savoring the meal. “You know, I’m a pretty good baker myself. Maybe I can bake you a loaf one day.”

  “I would love that.” Rook downed the remainder of his cup.