The four of them, after unloading the rest of the cart and storing the boxes inside of their room, had then washed up and essentially all fell asleep into a newly formed heap on the single bed. Any serious talks that were left to be had were postponed for another time, as this talk had already been exhausting enough in a really hard to explain way. There’s something about opening up in a true manner, when one hasn’t done so in a long time or even ever, that makes it a very tiring thing to do. Perhaps it’s just the overwhelming sense of catharsis that comes with saying what needs to be said, but by the time everyone returns back to the room, clean and ready to sleep, nobody has any desire to say anything else.

When the next day comes, everyone seems to realize how sore they are from the trip on the cart, now that they’ve finally come to a real stop and had some real rest.

Basil groans, holding her lower back as she hobbles around the room. “This must be how you feel all the time,” she says, turning her head towards Fresh, who is standing by the closed, opaque windows with that exact same crooked pose as her. Jubilee sits with their hands behind their head on top of a pile of crates.

“You people have been sitting for the last two weeks, how bad can it be?”

Basil scowls. “Sitting on a hard, bumpy cart, listening to your nagging for two weeks was worse than walking through the forest the first time,” she replies. Jubilee makes a show out of rolling their eyes. Fresh smiles as she watches them. It seems that everything is back to normal again. “So what’s our plan?” asks Basil.

“Our plan is to look around the city first. Get our heads around the lay of the land,” replies Jubilee. “We need to gather information, find out what people here need and what they currently sell.”

“And the barkeeper?” asks Basil.

The room is quiet for a moment. “I’ll talk to her.” Jubilee nods their head to Fresh. “You look into your weird contract fuckery. We need this to be airtight.” Fresh nods, not wanting to get into a conversation about it. It’s not like she has a choice, the fountain will just make her if she doesn’t. Jubilee nods back. “We need to check out the dungeon and get some materials to get the crafting process started. Same rules as before,” they explain. “We can’t make any conspicuous wares. Nothing people will connect to our old lives.”

“About that,” says Basil. “Shouldn’t you and Shamrock… you know, be less conspicuous?”

“Shouldn’t you shut up and get back to work?” snaps Jubilee, kicking their feet up. Basil glares at them from across the room.

Basil protests. “And what about the fairies? There’s next to no way to unconnect them from us.”

“We’re just traveling merchants they hitched a ride with, from the west,” shrugs Jubilee.

“Please, you know better. It’s a good story, but they aren’t going to stick with it. One of them will slip,” says Basil.

“Many are still young,” throws in Shamrock from the side. “They are reckless.”

Jubilee stares up towards the ceiling. “As long as nobody connects us to the north, we’re fine. The west is still a safe zone for us. For now.”

“For now,” sighs Basil.

After they have finished unpacking what they need to unpack, creating a small wall of crates as well, the four of them head out into the guild. It’s quiet this early in the morning, apparently most of the sailors only ever come here at night and most of the adventurers are busy earning their keep in the dungeon. They order breakfast, taking it back to their room and eating by the crate-wall, so that Jubilee has some privacy.

Food here in the east seems to be a bit different than the hearty, heavy meals of the west. There is a lot of fish and sea-food. But Fresh opted for a platter of stiff cracker-breads with a tan-colored paste made out of spices and some kind of mashed up beans.

After breakfast, the four of them head out into the city. Fresh considers wearing her ‘first’ dress, which she still has crumpled together in her bag. But she isn’t sure if she’s brave enough for it anymore, so she’s just going to wear her black-dress for now. It isn’t ideal for the climate, obviously. But at least it’s not as bad as the fluffy robe.

“You two check out near the ocean,” says Jubilee, pointing at Fresh and Shamrock. “Scope out the dungeon. Get a feel for the locals and any items you think you can process. You,” they point at Basil. “You’re with me, we’re going to talk to some people.”

“Huh?” asks Basil. “I want to see the ocean too,” she says.

Fresh leans in, whispering angrily. “No thieves’ guild stuff, Jubilee!”

“It’s not,” sighs Jubilee. “Have a little faith, will you, goo-brain?” they say, shaking their head. “I used to know some merchants here. I want to get a feel of how things are these days around the area.” They look around. “The east has always been pretty fuckery-free. But times are changing fast.”

Basil sighs. “They sure are…” She nods. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry, Basil,” says Fresh. “I promise I won’t go into the ocean without you.”

“Fuck off,” snaps Jubilee. “Nobody is going into the ocean until we’ve finished our work. We’re trying to run an enterprise here,” they say, snapping their fingers twice. “We’ll meet up at the guild later. Don’t do anything dumb,” warns Jubilee, pointing at her specifically.

“We won’t!” promises Fresh. Jubilee stares at her skeptically, opting to look towards Shamrock instead. He gives them a thumbs-up. Somehow, Jubilee seems more trusting of that and nods. The four of them then split up into their groups.

Fresh and Shamrock make their way through the city. Everything seems to catch Fresh’s eyes, no matter which street they take towards the ocean. There are dozens of stalls and vendors and large, glass-front windows. All of them are full of all manner of foods, equipment, curios and trinkets, materials and literally everything else that the heart could desire. They end up picking a somewhat shadier street by mistake and for some reason, one window there has a few people standing in it, posing while wearing what Fresh would call swimwear, but Shamrock simply drags her back the other way again and they return to the main road.

As they walk and marvel at the many interesting things there are to see, Fresh realizes that there is going to be a lot of competition in this place. Being a harbor city, trade and mercantilism are in their prime here and business is booming no matter which way she looks. No stall is empty of customers, no storefront-window unlooked into, no street vendor without a line that bends around the tropical, evergreen palms and ivy that run around the corners. People here have money and more than anything, they’re willing to spend it.

The other thing that she notices are the dirty looks that they get now and then. It almost reminds her of when she arrived in the north and got so many looks, but she attributes that to her old dress being a little more ‘free natured’. The expressions now however are different from back then.

“They are wary,” says Shamrock, seeing her look around.

“Of what?” asks Fresh, looking down at herself. Maybe she has a really embarrassing spot on this old dress that she had forgotten about and people think she’s a creep?

“Of me,” explains the large man. Fresh blinks, looking up at him as she realizes. She had entirely forgotten, since people in the west were so excited and kind about Shamrock’s presence, that in the rest of the world, members of the witches’ sect aren’t looked kindly on at all. She frowns.

“I know you’re gonna say no,” says Fresh. “But do you want us to get you some armor that isn’t so… you know?” Shamrock shakes his head. “I’ll even make you some myself, if you want,” explains Fresh. “We can make it together, it could be a whole project for us two!” she says excitedly, clenching her fists. Shamrock shakes his head. Fresh had expected as much though. She never assumed he would say yes to either offer. She just wanted to make them though. “I just don’t want you to be in danger, Shamrock,” she says.

“I am already in danger” replies Shamrock. “Because I choose to be.”

Fresh crosses her arms. “But if someone comes after us, everyone is going to look at you right away.”

“Yes,” is all that Shamrock says, lifting a finger and pressing it softly against her forehead. Fresh blinks. “They will,” he explains, lowering his hand and walking onward. Despite the sincerity of his intent, Fresh is still unhappy about it. She wants to be the one who protects her friends, not the other way around. But she’s probably just being selfish again.

The two of them make their way through the city and end up at a three-tiered series of flat plateaus, each with a row of houses. Several staircases lead down the three-tiers towards the ocean below. There, out by the water, Fresh sees it, half-submerged, crooked, with a boardwalk heading towards it. A large, almost sunken gate with a blue-glow inside of it.

The eastern dungeon.