Faced with such a magnificent view, Sean was the first to speak.

"I don't see any towers."

“The Desolate Spirit Tower is in the central territory. This is just a small town where families of the sect’s members live, one of dozens on the island.”

The group was startled when a young woman spoke up, somebody that had been standing silently at the railings nearby for the past several hours. Her short hair was a blend of brown shades, like sand on a common beach, her figure plump with modest measurements.

“You a local or something?” said Ian, without looking up from a map of the region.

The woman’s eyes flashed with a mix of excitement and intrigue, though the telltale glints disappeared as quickly as they came. “Something like that. Some of my brothers joined the sect, so I’m here to do the same. I’ve come to take the tower test.” She extended a hand to Ian, and only him. “Nice to meet you. I’m Avril, a local from the Deepwater region.”

Ian raised an eyebrow, looking up. Still, he accepted her hand and went back to reading.

“This is usually where you introduce yourself?” said the woman.

“I’m spoken for, so you know.”

Nolan had nearly forgotten that Ian was involved with Shery, the sister of his best friend, Shain.

“A pity,” said Avril, who walked away as if she were simply passing by. She disappeared into one of the many doors that led into the ship’s interior, which was open to those that preferred to spend their time below deck. As she left, she cast an odd glance at Nolan, as if trying to guess after a familiar scent.

“Okay…” mumbled Sean. “That was kind of random, huh?”

“Just a bit,” said Nolan.

What was up with that girl? Something about the look in her eyes roused Nolan’s suspicion. It was a look of anticipation, as if she were planning something.

“Spoken for, you say?” Lyra jabbed at her brother’s ribs with her elbow, but was shoved away. “Let me guess. It’s that Shery girl, isn’t it? The one you were always walking home.”

“Of course it’s her,” said Ian. “That dumpling can’t compare to my Shery.”

An alluring silhouette appeared above the ship as it closed the last bit of distance to the docks. It was May Asten, the fourth elder of the Falling Rain Sect.

“Listen closely, all.” Her beautiful brown hair billowed in the face of a sea-like breeze, though it abruptly stilled as if the wind had suddenly lost its influence on the space around her. “We’ll be docking shortly. For those of you that haven’t bothered to look into it, this town is called Elmer. It’s where you’ll be staying tonight, before tomorrow’s tower climb. Accommodations have been arranged at all of the inns on the eastern side of town. Simply show your participation plaques to the clerks and you’ll be shown to a room.

“You lot are lucky; this time around, you’ll be staying during the Rising Tide Festival. Feel free to explore the town, but be sure to report back to the docks an hour after sunup.”

The old man that had originally questioned her raised his hand with the intention to do so again, but May Asten ignored him and flew off into the city. As with before, the man showed no reaction. Nolan watched him turn around to face the open waters.

That guy’s got the patience of a saint.

The boats docked within the hour, all of their passengers disembarking and then dispersing into the town of Elmer.

More door frames were dressed with strings of flower petals than weren’t, with merchant stalls lining the clean, perfectly level streets in such abundance that Nolan suspected that many of the vendors were from out of town.

“So, what’s everyone want to do?” asked Lyra as the group wandered through the busy streets.

“I want to see the sights,” said Nyla, who wore the same expression of curious anticipation that she had throughout much of their time in Greenwall. “This is one of the prettiest towns I’ve ever seen.”

“It really is,” agreed Nolan. The beaches had the beautiful white sand that was usually unique to tropical settings, and yet the turquoise water was fresh, the waves much calmer than they had been on the opposing bank.

“Let’s eat something!” said Esteban with excitement.

It had been a while since everyone had shared a home-cooked meal, so nobody was averse to the suggestion. They didn’t have to walk far before they found a quaint little tavern that sat off to the side on one of the many immaculate streets. They enjoyed a feast of fried fish and baked potatoes, both of which tasted exactly as Nolan remembered from his time on Earth. More often than not on Venara, fruits and vegetables tended to differ in size, texture, or colour to the ones that he was used to, and oftentimes the tastes were a bit off as well.

After spending an hour or so at the establishment, the group left a stack of silver cards upon the table and then set off to enjoy the festival. The locals were friendly, and very enthusiastic about the games that had been set up all over town. Sean and the Varai siblings made themselves at home, sampling all of the local ales that they encountered and purchasing large barrels of whichever ones they most enjoyed.

Before the Interspatial Migration, Nolan had partied pretty often with his buddies, but nothing even remotely comparable to what went down every time he and his current friends arrived at a new town. Since the concept of calories didn’t matter on Venara, and since their tolerance was much higher than the average person, it wasn’t uncommon for him and the others to drink a barrel to themselves on a given evening. This growing appreciation for ales and wines led them to a grand stall that was festooned with flashy ribbons and several silver sculptures, where well over a hundred barrels of various ales were up for sale. The old man that ran the stall was so confident in his products that he allowed his servants to hand out free samples to any who asked.

“Hey gramps,” said Ian, whose golden eyes had lit up after trying a certain sample, “how much for a barrel of this stuff?”

“Ah, the darkroot blend.” The balding elder approached with a salesman’s smile. “A fine choice, young master. Those are five spirit stones each.”

“Five spirit stones? What are you, a bandit?”

“Yeah,” said Lyra, handing the man a bag that contained thirty spirit stones. “This is highway robbery.”

“Quality doesn’t come cheap, young miss.”

“Clearly.” As the old man was about to head over to another group of curious customers, Lyra called out and pointed to a small pyramid of six tempered barrels. “Wait, can we try a sample of that stuff?”

“Ah, I’m sorry, but that is Elmer’s famous amberwood ale. It’s simply too valuable to allow for samples.”

“How much for one barrel?”

“A hundred spirit stones, and well worth it.”

Hearing the old man’s words, dozens of people that were sampling his supply turned their attention to the reinforced barrels.

“A hundred spirit stones! Who would buy such a thing?”

“Don’t you know? Amberwood ale replenishes spiritual energy. It’s the prized drink of the Falling Rain Sect.”

“Did he say amberwood ale? They’re really selling it to outsiders?”

While people were clamouring at the chance to buy the special drink, a familiar voice cut sharply through the ruckus.

“Old man, sell me all of those barrels.”

A girl stepped forward, a strong gaze beneath her short, sandy hair.

Ian raised an eyebrow. “Dumpling?”

“I’ll happily sell you one, lass, but for the sake of fairness, it can only be one.”

His words were met with admiration from the other prospective buyers.

Avril, the girl that had approached Ian on the boat, threw a spatial bag at the stall owner, whose eyebrows shot up with a start. Shamelessly, he cast a layer of inner essence around the barrels and then stored them into a spatial bag, which he gave to the girl without a sound.

When those around her responded with ridicule, Avril’s chubby cheeks tugged up at the corners and she calmly walked away from the crowd. “If only I cared, then maybe your words would mean something.” Laughing to herself, she left without a backward glance.

“Hey!”

Lyra appeared in front of her, blocking her path, arms crossed.

Nolan sighed and rubbed at his temples. Couldn’t they have one day without stirring up trouble? He could already see how things would develop, following the typical pattern of people on Venara. The girls would face off, and then some strong friend or family member of Avril’s would show up later to harass them. They would defend themselves, and then somehow the entire sect would suddenly have it out for them. She had said it herself, after all, that her brothers were in the Falling Rain Sect.

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. I was just about to buy one of those. Sell me one.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you’ll get the slap of your lifetime.”

“Oh? You think you can hurt me?”