Summers watched as half a dozen deckhands jumped from the ship to a long wooden dock extending from the town. An older elf wearing elaborate clothing stepped forward, hands held out in what Summers assumed was a welcoming gesture.

Synel and the captain walked down to greet the man.

“Fucking finally, we can get off this thing.” Cortez stood a little shakily before starting towards the dock herself.

Just as Summers stood to follow, he saw Synel wave a hand, gesturing him over.

“This is the formather.” Synel held a hand to the man in front of her.

Asle moved to Summers side before she bowed.

“Chief.” She explained, emphasizing the word.

Summers took the hint and bowed to the man as well.

“We appreciate the warm welcome.” Synel began. “We were hoping to stock up on a hundred and fifty units of travel rations, bread, fish –“

“Of course, of course.” The chief held a hand to stop her. “We’ll be able to discuss business in the morning. But you’re one of the first visitors we’ve had to our town in some time. Please, come with me, I’m sure you’re tired.”

Before she could speak the chief had already turned, heading for the town proper.

Synel blinked for a moment before looking to Summers. He shrugged.

Summers and the others moved through the town slowly, the day was beginning to turn to night and truth be told Summers looked forward to having some space after a week of being cramped up against his friends.

“…The war is over then?” The chief looked at Synel a long moment. “That’s… excellent news, we could use some trade again.”

“It will be some time before things go back to how they were.” Synel cautioned.

“…I see…”

“If I’m to be honest, we assumed we’d have to skip this port. Being this close to the city, we had suspected you would be involved in the war.”

“Wasn’t for lack of trying, had a few ships circling the bay. Sketa scared ‘em off though, think you saw her coming in.”

“…You’ve named it?” Synel looked at the man questioningly.

“Named her? She’s saved us. Town would have been dust long ago were it not for her protecting our shores.” The chief spoke a little louder than Summers expected.

He glanced at a few of the curious eyes looking their way. Most of the townspeople watched their entourage from the safety of their homes and shops, each with the same placid expressions Summers had come to expect from the elves. Even with the time he’d spent with Asle, or Synel for that matter, he still had trouble dealing with how alien it seemed.

“But enough.” The chief started. “As I said, you’re the first visitors our town has had in some time. We should celebrate, come. The drinks will be on me.”

A short cheer went up from the sailors at those words. Even Synel seemed pleased.

“Thank god for hospitality.” Cortez muttered from Summers’ side.

“You understood that?” Summers looked at her.

“If there’s one thing I learned from the city, it’s how to ask for a drink.”

Summers saw Cortez start forward, a little livelier than she’d been.

The hospitality had been a little overwhelming.

“I shouldn’t.” Summers tried to wave off the mug that Synel was offering him.

“Come on.” Synel prodded Summers.

Throughout the night sailors had been doing what they did best. That is, drinking themselves into comas. The town hosted a small inn that, with the complete lack of trade, was all theirs for the night.

Even the captain had joined in at one point before excusing himself back to the ship.

They, however, had decided to take advantage of the inn while they could. So, they’d rented a few rooms for the night. Mostly so they could sleep with some elbow room for once. Even a week in and they were already starting to remember just how comfortable the castles’ private rooms had been.

“No, that’s enough for me.” Summers pushed the mug back. “I’m headed to bed.”

“Fine, fine.” Synel reached into a pocket and handed Summers, Nowak, and Cortez each a peg.

“How many rooms did you get?” Summers inspected the wooden key.

“Three.” Synel answered. “Ms. Cortez -” She switched to English, looking at the woman. “Would you… share with my apprentice.”

Although she spoke haltingly, Cortez seemed to get the message.

“Sure?” Cortez shrugged a bit clumsily. She looked back at Asle who was nursing a large glass of water.

“Great.” Summers stood, heading up the stairs to their rooms and waved a goodbye. “I’ll see you guys in the morning then.”

After a moment, Synel stood as well.

“We’ll have an early morning. I should go as well.” She gave them a short bow before heading upstairs herself.

Cortez took a long drink as she watched the woman leave. Then she glanced down at her own key.

“They said we had three rooms, didn’t they?”

“…I think?” Nowak replied.

Cortez looked to her own key, to Nowak’s key, then back up to the stairs again.

“…Fucks sake.”

Summers laid beside Synel, eyes closed.

It had been a long, long night. Although it was nice to have finally gotten off the ship, part of him was dreading the rest of their journey.

He breathed slowly, trying to clear his mind. He hadn’t slept most of the night before, between everyone on the ship moving around, and the tight quarters, he just couldn’t keep his mind quiet. The only advantage he had now, besides the company, was the sheer amount of exhaustion he felt.

After a few minutes of internal struggle, sleep finally took him.

Then he felt an odd pressure against his neck.

“Hrk!?” Summers grunted as he was wrenched upward. He grabbed at something around his neck, a rope, before pulling down with the slightest bit of force.

Almost immediately he heard a man yelp behind him and stumble to the ground. Summers hesitated a moment before his half-sleeping brain managed to catch up to the situation.

The man drew a knife and lunged at him. Summers almost casually reached out, grabbing his hand, and squeezing. He felt something snap beneath his grip, likely the man’s arm, followed by a scream.

The knife clattered to the floor as he turned to find a second elf staring at him, wide eyed, his knife moving towards a terrified Synel’s throat.

Summers rushed the man just a second too late.

The door to the hallway exploded open, the body of an elf slamming into the second story railing before tumbling to the ground below.

“…Are you all right?” Summers bent over Synel.

The man had managed to lift the knife to her chest, probably trying to ward Summers off before he’d attacked. Now she was trying to keep pressure on a large gash at her side.

“I’m fine.” Synel gasped before getting to her feet.

The man behind them only cowered in the corner, making no move for the knife.

Summers turned back to the hall to find three men with spears, one at the door to Cortez and Asle’s room. They all stared at him, more confused than anything.

He moved forward, kicking one man out of the way, grabbing his spear, and slamming it down on the back of the other man. He worked his way through the hallway, moving until a single gunshot erupted, taking the last man in the leg, and sending him to the ground.

“What the fuck is happening?” Cortez moved from the room to the railing. Her weapon trained on the floor below. He saw Asle move from behind her, Cortez’ sidearm in her hands.

“I have no idea.” Summers answered. He turned at the sound of a door opening and found Nowak emerging from his own room.

“Whatever it is we’re clear.” Cortez reported.

“You didn’t bring your gun?” Nowak asked looking at Summers.

“…Didn’t think I’d need it for one night.”

Nowak, Cortez, even Asle stared at him like he was an idiot.

Summers didn’t see the need to argue, especially as Synel let out a soft groan beside him. She was bleeding pretty badly.

“We need to get back to the ship.” Nowak moved to the stairs. “I can stitch her up there.”

Summers stepped from the front door of the inn shouldering Synel. He stopped as they found a dozen men in the street, waiting for them.

“I’m sorry for this.” The chief stood in the middle of the group, each man had a spear in hand, as well as one with something that looked like a crossbow. “Surrender and I can promise you a swift death.”

Two short, precise bursts erupted beside Summers half a second later. He saw the man with the crossbow, as well as the chief fall to the ground.

“Surrender.” Nowak said before looking to Asle for confirmation.

She nodded.

The spearmen looked at the now dead crossbowman, and the screaming chief. They held for a beat before the first man broke, dropping his spear and sprinting down the street. The others followed soon after.

“Sarge, would you take her for a second.” Summers gestured to Synel, Nowak lowered his gun and moved to shoulder the woman.

As soon as Summers had handed her off, he moved to the chief. Nowak had only clipped the man, but the back of his thigh looked more like a side of beef than anything. The man still tried to crawl backwards as Summers approached.

“What are you doing?” Nowak watched as Summers grabbed the chief by the shirt and began to drag him.

“…Finding out what’s going on.”

They arrived at the boat without incident, a few drunk sailors still sleeping on its deck. He watched as Nowak told Asle something, but his mind couldn’t grasp it for some reason.

His mind was still on what happened, on what could have happened. If they’d come for anyone but him first…

One of the deck hands stirred as they made their way on board.

Summers tossed the chief to the deck.

“Wake up the captain, we need to leave, now.”

The deckhand gaped at him for a moment before his eyes fell on the chief. Something in his drunken mind must have clicked, as he took off towards the captain’s quarters.

Summers watched as Nowak laid Synel gently down on the deck before heading to the small storage area below deck, Asle in tow.

Seeing Synel lay there sent a cool anger boiling up inside him.

“Please.” The chief held up a hand, clearly sensing something. “I only did this to protect my people.”

“…And how is that?” Summers moved towards the man.

“We’re starving. Our fisherman can’t leave shore and we have no hunters, no trade. We’ve tried to appeal to the city but…” He gestured to the ocean. “The beast, it attacks any ships we send.”

Summers stared back at the man, dumbstruck.

“…You did this for our food? Why didn’t you ask?”

“Whatever you could spare wouldn’t have been enough. Even if you were to sell it to us, we’re a fishing village, we have nothing to trade. ” He swallowed. “We’ve lost three of our own already.”

Summers heard shouting as the captain emerged from below deck, Nowak and Asle close behind. He began shouting to the few sailors still asleep.

“We set out immediately. We’ll rest once we’re at sea.”

He looked to Synel, to his friends. They’d probably be dead if these people had their way.

“No.” Summers raised a hand, stalling the man. “Sarge, I think we need to have a vote.”

“Are we really doing this?” Cortez looked at Summers, an expression of worry on her face. “Not that I think he doesn’t deserve it. I’d rather just get the fuck out of here.”

“We can’t leave things as they are.” Summers responded.

He began to drag the chief to the dock, the man pleading with him the entire time. Cortez sighed, hefting her gun.

A deckhand brought him a barrel of chum shortly after. Summers picked it up, surprised how light it felt in his hands.

He tossed it with everything he had, it sailed a good distance from the ship, spilling out, painting a small red circle on the water’s surface.

Then, Summers watched as the same massive head they’d seen earlier breach the waves. A beat, and he saw it again, closer this time.

He placed a hand on the chief.

“I’d swim fast if I were you.”

That was all the warning the chief got before Summers hauled him up and tossed him into the sea, nearly a dozen feet from the dock. His bleeding leg caused him to flounder for a moment before adrenaline took over.

Summers watched as the monster’s head bobbed towards the barrel, before quickly changing direction towards the chief. The man began to swim for the shore in a panic, arms pumping as he moved for all he was worth.

He nearly got to the shallow water before the beast reared up, a massive head resembling a horned snake breaching the water.

A spear sank into its side a moment later.

The monster let out a sharp, shrill cry as its mouth snapped shut, turning away from shore.

Summers grabbed the next spear, launching it like a cannon as the creature was still reeling from the first. It struck home, sinking into a white, maned neck as it writhed. The third slammed into its head, and the creature stopped moving entirely.

The chief made it to shore in the next few seconds, breathing hard, staring at the now dead leviathan a short distance from the shore.

“Eat that.” Summers yelled.

The man didn’t respond.

Summers watched the chief sit there in the sand, breathing, bleeding, as their boat began to pull away, and into the sea.