This little waystation really comes alive at daybreak. For the few overnight wagons, that means hitching animals and stowing whatever gear they took down to make the night easier.

Our morning, on the other hand, requires very little. Packing up the tent is a hassle; the morning dew has made the outside layer damp, but Liv manages it.

Liv’s the same as always, cracking jokes and smiling. It's a big change from how broken up she was during our premature wake-up. It doesn’t escape my notice that she might be overcompensating for Deirdre's and my sake. Would bugging her about it be worth it? It was just a nightmare, right?

The open road meets us once again as soon as we’re geared up. Just like yesterday, the worst part of travel is lugging our heavy gear. Fortunately, we’re not accosted by Monsters or anyone else. Bandits, I assume, most certainly exist somewhere out there, though I doubt they’d be stalking such a well-developed pocket of civilization.

The path ahead winds ever on until the forest to the north and south opens up like a threshold to reveal the coast in its entirety. The journey from Waldonton in general was a comfortable, downhill trek. Now, the slight high ground helps to make the region ahead visible.

The shrublands and sparse short trees give way to rows of crops and fields of grain. Bunches of farm buildings are situated on hillocks with stone walls surrounding them. Like little islands in the deep expanse of farmlands.

Delcaster proper sits in the distance, cozied up against the sparkling ocean. The main city part has a wall. Not a wall designed to make taxing merchants carts easy, like Hadrian's Wall, but a wall designed as a fortification against attack, like the famous walls around Constantinople.

Deirdre and I are counting on Liv at this point. Deirdre never ventured far from Waldoton, and I’m still practically brand new. Not that Liv could offer much support. This is the end of the line. She has escorted a caravan to Delcaster before, but she has certainly never spent much time in the city.

This late in the afternoon, the queue to enter the city doesn’t look terribly long. The line consists mostly of small carts, no doubt from the local farmsteaders, more so than distant merchants.

For once, Liv is at the fore, ready to pay our way in. Gently, I knock into Deirdre’s shoulder with mine. A friendly and loving reminder that I’m by her side.

“We made it,” I say.

"Let's just hope things don’t fall apart while we’re off galivanting,” she mumbles back.

After the guards kindly relieve us of some coin, a short walk under a series of arrow slits and murderholes leads to a very large thoroughfare. The roads are cobbled and look pretty well kept.

The sound of gulls overhead is a constant background track as they glide on the breeze. The city must have many tens of thousands, as large as it looks from the outside and as cramped as it looks on the inside. Maybe even in the six digits. There are taller buildings here than I expected. There are two and three story structures everywhere, with even larger constructions looming over them in some places.

Thank goodness for the salty sea air working double time to alleviate the effects of so many people living so close. That press of so many people's ever-present din of noise makes for an always-present sort of sound that I’d need time to adjust to before this place would start to feel normal.

Two months living in the countryside, and now a city is crazy loud for my taste. I gape at the overwhelming activity in every direction.

“Wow.”

All around, folk are pushing past each other or dodging carts full of goods. Liv helps to shoulder my awestruck self off toward the side. Deirdre, too, looks fairly taken by the crushing atmosphere.

It's even hard to talk properly here, what with all the noise.

“Where first?” I ask loudly, looking hopefully at Liv.

“Let's keep going in,” she answers. “I don’t exactly know my way around, but the center of town has the most businesses.”

“Some proper food and an inn would be a nice start,” adds Deirdre while leaning heavily into my space to be heard.

Falling into step, it’s almost natural for us to form an orderly line, with Liv in front and Deirdre taking up the rear.

This close to the gate, the chaos looks mostly focused around the trade of goods. That being said, even the buildings that are obviously grocers or bulk item stores have what looks like housing on their second and third floors. Clothesline crisscross every conceivable alleyway, and crates are packed into every corner and against every wall with a fraction of space.

Snaking our way through the afternoon crowds sends me for a loop. After several minutes of ducking onto new streets to avoid jams, I haven't the faintest clue which way is north or south, or even which direction is the ocean, which you think would be easy in a port city.

“Do you know where we’re going?” I practically beg Liv with no small amount of worry.

“That way, mostly,” she gestures with a finger, “we’ll get there when we get there.”

‘That way’ at least turns out to be in the direction of the ocean if the increase of seagulls screaming overhead and the subtle stink of fish are any indication.

The streets we’ve trod so far, at least, are a mixed bag. I wouldn’t say any of them are horrible, but many have trash littering them enough that I’m sure rats are a problem. The people about don’t seem too bothered, however.

Everyone, big or small, is dressed in a vast array of garb. The clothes are signals of a sort. Some of them label the people as common laborers—those wearing simple, drab trousers and shirts. Industrious workers, who probably spend a lot of time with some sort of tool in their hands, wear more tight-fitting skirts and sleeves. The better off, artisans maybe? Be it from a lucky break with their magic or a well-cultivated skill, wear finer colors without any bits of their clothes dull or frayed.

Along Liv’s winding path, we reach a peculiar intersection. Here, it’s mostly quiet; the sound of shutters being closed, door hinges screaming, and the gentle rolling of cart wheels and hooves on cobblestone are the few exceptions. The center of the intersection isn’t a well, which has been the only adornment for most of the others we’ve passed; here instead is a strangely cut stone statue in miniature.

“What in the hell is this?” I ask, approaching to get a better look.

A stone pedestal lifts finely carved something to a high prominence. At its base, it appears to be a human arm, reaching out from an open plant pot. From inside the pot, vines crawl over the lid and snake down towards the ground. Up higher, the hand holds different items in a bundle—one clearly an arrow, another a sickle, and the third item is a stick? Or maybe an eel? A snake? The stone is old and worn, and the details have degraded.

Thoughtfully, with her thumb resting on her chin, Liv gives the strange statue pedestal a once-over. "It looks like some sort of altar; I’m sure the locals would know. Best not touch it; let's get moving and find somewhere to bed down for the night.”

“Altar? Like a shrine? I didn’t know Delcaster had active cults.” Deirdre ponders with a level accusatory glare directed at the strange stone depiction.

“Liv’s right, let's find somewhere to drop our stuff; my back is killing me,” I whinge.

Which is just the reminder that I need to focus on casting Recovery and Aegis whenever they’re not on cooldown.

Our travels take us back towards a more active section of town. The noise isn’t deafening, but it’s still loud enough that when we step inside an inn looking for a room, it becomes noticeably more quiet when the door closes behind us.

The price we’re told for a room isn’t cheap, but the alternative is running around town looking for the best deal. We did luck out in that at least this place had two beds available. After a silent three-way look between my party mates, Liv makes to pay. A frown plasters itself on her face after she reaches for her belt. Checking her other side, it only deepens. While muttering angrily, she sorts through her cloak pockets.

While she furiously spins about looking for where her coins went off to, Deirdre steps in to settle with the gentleman running the establishment. The innkeeper slides over a key, and we’re set.

“One key for two rooms?” She questions, eyebrow raised.

“No, two beds, one room.” The man behind the counters.

Oh, no wonder the price only seems like very mild extortion.

“I hate the city.” Liv hisses from where she appears to have given up looking up for her coin purse.

***

 

"So, how much did they steal?” I ask Liv, as we’re back outside on the hunt for a warm meal.

Ditching our gear took a moment. That and reorganizing our things to better hide our valuables. Deirdre and Liv spent a bit of extra time to help me, since I was foolishly keeping all my coins in one place. I anticipated needing to keep a heavy hand on my money but not divvying up my coin into different places in case I got pickpocketed.

“I think I had about eight Dallion in mostly small change," she says, not sounding too upset at what amounted to a full day's work for many.

The day is turning toward evening, and really, we don’t explicitly have to accomplish anything since we anticipated spending most of the day just getting here. The idea is to make our way toward Tack and Trade tomorrow and impress upon whoever will listen the importance of hearing us out right away. We’ve even budgeted for a few bribes, if that's what it comes down to. We can’t wait around Delcaster for long; we’re needed back in Waldonton to keep our spinning plates in the air.

Besides the much grander buildings and the huge increase in people, one of the most striking features of Delcaster is the mundanity of magic. I thought folk were flippant with magic use in Waldonton, but here magic was heavily integrated into life. The enchantments alone look very much to be taking the place of electricity for society. The streets are lined with runelights; many businesses' have signs with a magic glow to them; at the top of every hour, bells ring out, which I'm likewise sure are magic-powered.

How much easier did magic make everyone’s lives? Surely fishermen would get along all the better if they could control a bit of water. No doubt, the ability to push the limits of human endurance and strength was substantially changing everyone's day-to-day lives.

Our wandering fortunately led us to a street that not only looked like it sold lots of produce during the day, but even this late was pushing meals for those too busy or ill-suited to cooking their own.

While the three of us are gathered up looking at options, I’m sure to remind Liv and Deirdre to keep an eye out for coffee.

In the end, each of us manages a hand full of on-the-go goods, Liv’s being mostly meat skewed onto sticks, and Deirdre consisting fully of two small sized so-called 'stew pies.' For me, I stuck to the fried fish and potatoes. The little sign over the place even swore their fish and chips were the best. It came with great tartar sauce, that's for sure.

Delcaster isn’t half bad.

A lot could be said about portability; however, paper-thin cloth was the to-go container of choice since paper itself would have been more valuable and plastic was a non-starter. I think all three of us ended up with greasy fingers.

A bench of sorts is our impromptu table as we finish off our grub. After we’d all had our fill, it was time to sort out the rest of the day.

“Well, sleep then? Or we could start asking around to find Tack and Trade for tomorrow.” I ask both of my companions.

Liv’s reply is an obviously opposed ‘eeeh’ with a grimace replacing her default smile.

“Baths. Baths and then sleep," says Deirdre, sounding as tired as I feel.

"Hey, you two don’t have to convince me.”

It would be easy to get lost in a place like this, but I was paying great attention on the way here. At least in one direction. Our inn is a few blocks down, two lefts, and one right away. What I wasn’t paying attention to were both sides of the street and every single business on it. The sight I catch now is such a blow that I stop in my tracks, which signals Liv and Deirdre to do the same.

A very narrow building, sandwiched between two larger brick monstrosities, is a tiny, two-story building. The outside has only a single table inside its small fenceline. A sign hangs over the door, and for a brief second, I dare to dream.

It read simply ‘Cafe’

“You don’t think… Coffee..?” I say, turning quickly to Deirdre and then to Liv; they don’t look nearly as excited as I feel. "Let's go check, at least.”

I don’t even turn around to ensure they’ll follow me. Any chance for coffee is a chance I’ll take, and they’ve heard me complain about the lack of coffee enough to know it.

The cafe opens with a chiming bell above the door; the insides are just as small as the outside. There are two tables, which gives the place a maybe maximum capacity of eight. It doesn’t seem set up for dinners in the least. Like many cafes before it, there is a multi-tiered displace case set into the primary and only countertop—no glass or anything—just a well-made stand with a gap in the middle for transactions.

“Just a second!” Yells a voice from back behind the counter and around a corner, a kitchen, presumably based on how this place smells as much like a bakery as it looks like a cafe.

Appearing around the corner is the last person I'd have expected. I suppose expecting anyone in the second world is folly to begin with, given the variety of people.

Wearing a black apron covered in handprints and streaks of flour approaches a woman. Her shoulder-length black hair fades to a vibrant yellow, which draws immediate attention. Atop her head are articulated antennae springing out of her scalp—another draw for the eyes. Large enough to ghost behind on air currents as she walks, she has translucent insect-like wings. The bee lady locks her hands on the counter and leans forward with an aggressively inviting smile.

“What can I get you?” She asks, her voice light and lilting.

Checking over my shoulder, I confirm that Liv and Deirdre are with me.

“We were hoping you had coffee?” I question, sounding hopeful but afraid.

Or rather, I’m hoping she has coffee; I doubt Liv or Deirdre would spend their money on the stuff if it was as expensive as everyone says.

What follows is a chipper chuckle.

“Oh goodness, I’m afraid I don’t have any of that here,” she says, her smile never dropping. She looks truly sorry to be the bearer of bad news.

I’m crestfallen, obviously. But just because this lady doesn’t have any doesn’t mean there isn’t any to be bought in Delcaster, even if it might be expensive. 

“Dang, alright, well, thank you,” I reply, rueful once again of a life spent waking up early without coffee.

“Can I interest you in anything else? I have a variety of baked goods, both hearty and sweet,” the bee lady proffers.

“I think we’re okay, unless,” I answer, then turn toward my companions. “Liv, Deirdre, desserts?"

Deirdre shakes her head no, and Liv just shrugs, which isn’t very helpful, one might say. Perhaps sensing her customers are on the verge of leaving, the bee woman gives another customer service smile.

“You know… I can’t make coffee, but I might be able to make something similar.”

“Similar?” I ask.

If she means black tea, then I’m not really interested. Coffee just has this special kick that tea can’t match, and the flavor is to die for.

But not super embarrassingly die for, because then you end up here, coffeeless.

Her expression subtly shifts, I should think, as a result of a failed attempt at concealing her worry.

"It's, um, bitter and energizing, right?” She says while chewing on her lip, still smiling.

“Have you never had coffee?” I ask incredulously.

“Nope,” she replies cheerily, still with an award-winning smile.

“That's criminal.” I sputter before before catching myself. “I mean, I’m sorry you haven't had a cup. It’s really good. And yes, bitter and energizing, but you can add sugar or cream to make it taste really good.”

I sort of trail off, and at some point, Deirdre grabs my shoulder to end my suffering.

Thank goodness someone is around to save me when I make a mess out of a conversation.

“What she means to say is that it’s too late for coffee anyway, but thank you, we should get going."

“How about in the morning, then?” The bee lady quickly adds before we have a chance to move, practically mashing all her words together at the same time.

“What?” I ask, truly flummoxed.

“If you come back in the morning, I’ll make an energizing drink—better than coffee, I guarantee.” The bee lady looks very passionate about the challenge, to say the least. Her smile is so broad and excited that it could be confused for mania.

Deirdre doesn’t bail me out a second time, so I stumble briefly to answer for settling.

“Okay?”

“You know, these scones look pretty good.” Liv remarks casually from a few paces away. She has, at this point, completely wandered over to the side to look at some baked goods on display.

The baker must be making quite a lot; even this late in the day, the shelves are practically full.