Rosehill Irregulars: The Closed City

Chapter 3

The Irregulars and their mounts plodded their way across the Melorian Midlands on their way to Mir. Eventually the hills gave way to open plains of the Melorian Steppe that stretched on until the coast. Every so often Finn would withdraw his viola from its travel case to play a song or two. Long periods of silence filled the gaps between those few breaks. Paige savored the momentary relief when they stopped around midday to dismount and eat lunch. After a few bowls of stew, they were on the road again, at least until they camped. At first light they resumed the ride.

By the time the party rode into town, more than a full day had come and gone. Orange and red streaked the second day's evening sky, dappled with purple-hued clouds. Outside the gates they dismounted and walked in, leaving their reins in the age-spotted hand on an emaciated looking stablemaster, who accepted their payment with a tip of the hat and a smile missing more than a few teeth.

Hustle and bustle were the order of the day in Mir, between its plentiful storefronts hawking foreign goods of variable authenticity and the always busy docks. Paige led the group alongside Thaddeus as they wandered down the main thoroughfare, towards the waiting sea.

"So where's our man?" Paige asked, stretching as the party approached the dock's edge. Waves crashed against the poles supporting the planks. The chatter of seamen droned through the docks as they unloaded and loaded ships in port.

"At the Meloria Blue," Thaddeus replied. "See it anywhere?"

Paige scanned the waterfront. Many shops lined the boardwalk, but one seemed to draw the largest crowd. Sailors and other inebriates stumbled in and out, replacing each other and maintaining a drunken equilibrium. She pointed towards the establishment.

"Think I found it," she called over her shoulder.

"Fantastic," Duncan said. He clapped a hand on her shoulder as he passed.

"Good job, Paige," Thaddeus said as he brushed past her. Paige walked after him, though she kept her pace slow so that Krissa and Finn could catch up. She looked around as she waited. Soon the two shortest members of the party joined her. Krissa held the arm loops of her pack with both hands like an eager child. Paige fell in line with them as they approached.

"So, what're you thinkin' about?" Paige asked, looking down at Krissa. The gnome looked up at her with her dark brown eyes, magnified by her glasses. They were almost freakishly large in proportion to her size.

"I trust Thade," Krissa replied, turning her gaze away from Paige. "I'm not so sure about this contact, though. They knew he was a Justiciar, so maybe it's one of his friends?"

"It was signed 'P,' I don't think he knew who that was," Finn cut in.

Paige briefly raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips in frustration. "And you do?"

The halfling frowned. "I have some suspicions, but I'm not sure. I know a bit about Stormborne. Names, at least. I know one that starts with P. I suppose it could be him. Might not be, though."

Paige stopped and looked down at him. 

"Who?" 

"Hurry up!" Duncan's voice butted into the conversation. He and Thaddeus waited at the door. Her brother leaned nonchalantly against the outside wall, his arms crossed. The light of one of the outdoor lamps glinted against the silver scales on his forearms. An amused grin tugged at his lips as he watched Thade, who examined the doorway and glanced inside. His ever-present frown remained as his eyes wandered around the front and interior of the tavern. Paige joined in giving the outside a once-over.

It was a simple establishment; its long life being battered by the salt spray and coastal storms was apparent, but it seemed to be doing its job keeping hardworking sailors drunk and not crumbling into the sea. A worn placard hung over the doorway. The words, once painted in brilliant blue, now almost worn smooth by time and ocean air, read: "Meloria Blue."