“Sure,” Marco said. “Let’s go.”

The two brothers led the way without further comment, their boots steady on the worn cobblestone paths that wound away from the busier part of the town. The road soon left the bustle of the docks and the market, stretching into quieter lanes where houses grew farther apart. There was more grass than buildings now. Marco thought about the fact that there were also fewer witnesses, then put those thoughts away. There had been no sign of aggression in this place yet. Careful was good. Paranoid wasn’t always bad, but it wasn’t called for yet.

For a time, no one in the party spoke. Marco took the opportunity to glance at the others, gauging their moods. Riv walked confidently, but Marco could see his eyes darting to every bush and tree like he was half-expecting an ambush. Elisa seemed to be quietly cataloguing every unfamiliar plant they passed, like she was building a trail of botanical landmarks to find their way back by. Aethe just followed his lead, watchful but not visibly stressed in any way he could tell.

Finally, Aethe sidled closer to Marco. “Do you think this is really an offer of work, or are we walking into trouble?”

“Could be both,” Marco whispered back, low enough that he doubted the brothers could hear him. “The mayor didn’t exactly look weak. We should at least consider the offer.”

Riv grunted softly from behind them. “If it’s work, I hope it’s something that pays. We’ve got chickens to feed now.”

The brothers ahead gave no sign they heard the exchange, though Marco suspected their ears were sharper than they let on. They kept the same pace, occasionally exchanging a glance but otherwise not giving any indication that they found this kind of escort to the mayor’s house unusual.

The path began to slope upward as the outskirts of town gave way to open hills. The sun hung lower and lower, throwing longer shadows from anything they passed. The walking got more difficult as the road ambled up first one hill, then another. As they crested one last ridge, Marco caught his first sight of the manor.

It was big, not just in comparison to the houses they’d passed, but big in the sense that it commanded the space around it without shouting for attention. Built in pale stone as opposed to the wood most of the other buildings in town opted for, it was both newish-looking and seemed to nestle into the side of the hill as if it had been there for centuries. From some angles, the slopes almost hid it entirely, which helped explain why they hadn’t noticed the big, obviously expensive building before.

“Wouldn’t have guessed that was here,” Aethe said quietly, her gaze sweeping over the building. “You could walk past a dozen times and never know.”

“That’s probably the point,” Riv said. “Keeps the wrong sort from wandering in unless you send for them.”

“It’s beautiful. Subtle. Like it doesn’t need to prove anything,” Elisa admitted.

“It can speak for itself. After what Riv said, I feel like I need to prove we aren’t the wrong sort,” Aethe finished.

Marco found himself agreeing. This was a place that radiated quiet authority. Whoever lived here didn’t need to flaunt their status. The size, the craftsmanship, and the seclusion were all things that seemed like they confirmed what most people on this island already knew. This was a big man. He was in charge.

As they descended toward the manor, the brothers broke their silence for the first time since leaving town. “Stay together when we get there,” Bhul advised over his shoulder. “Quill doesn’t like people wandering.”

“Good to know,” Marco replied. “What would he do?”

“He would be annoyed that you wandered,” Bhul said. “And then I’d have to hear about it. Just do me a favor and be normal.”

They followed the winding path down between two steep banks of grass, the manor disappearing from sight for a few moments before reappearing larger and more imposing as they neared. The closer they came, the more Marco felt a weight in his chest. Whatever waited inside, it was unlikely to be simple.

Bhul opened the big wooden door for them and led them into the front of the house. It was more of the same. There was an impressive sort of restraint about the decorations. Every piece of furniture was built well and built to do a job in the room it was in, but the decorations were spare to the point of being sparse.

“I’ll go get him,” Bhul said. “Just wait here, all right? There’s water and wine if you want it. Anything that’s out is for guests, so feel free.”

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The crew settled in cautiously, each choosing a spot that gave them both comfort and a clear view of the room’s exits. The muffled sound of footsteps and a short distant conversation came from deeper inside. After a few minutes, Bhul returned, this time with a man they had seen before, the man who could only be Mayor Quill.

He was of average height, but closer up it was clearer that he carried himself with a presence that filled the space. His dark hair was neatly tied back, and his clothes were well-tailored without being too obviously expensive.

In Marco's chest, the temple-granted recognition of a rival buzzed so hard he felt he could almost hear it. He knew Quill had to be feeling the same thing, and it was all he could do to sit still and look calm in the face of it.

“Welcome,” Quill said warmly, his voice smooth but carrying an undercurrent of authority. “I hear you’ve been making quite the impression in Quilton. Spending freely, sharing the wealth. The merchants are pleased. I’m pleased.”

Marco inclined his head. “Glad to be useful. It actually helps? It seems like we are getting the better part of the deal.”

“That’s a fine habit.” Quill moved to a chair opposite them and sat. “Asking questions. The answer is everyone gets the better part of a good deal. If you want shoes more than money and I want money more than shoes, we both benefit from the trade. One of us would only lose if the other was dishonest or desperate. I don't think either of us are."

"Dishonest or desperate," Marco echoed.

:Both, but most importantly, I don't think either of us is a thief. You can feel what I feel, correct? You have to be worried that I led you here for some other reason than a conversation.”

Marco tensed a bit, just enough that he could react in a moment if he really needed to.

"Something like that," he said. "Should I be?"

"If you don't have a problem, I don't." Quill held up his clawed hands helplessly. “There's nothing I can do about these. They made me very successful out at sea but are much more of a problem on land as the mayor of a settlement. I'd put them away if I could. My word on it will hopefully suffice. I don't want anything from your team except for you to continue to patronize our town.”

“We were already doing that,” Elisa said. "Respectfully, I don't think you missed the fact that we spent nearly all of our money today. Why bring us here to encourage us to do what we were already doing?"

"Respectfully, I like to know the people who bring such an influx of coin into my town. Tell me. Are you here looking for work, or is Quilton just another stop on your journey?”

This felt normal. When people used to probe to see if they could get Marco, the pre-classed wonder child, to help with their work, they'd poke around in this way. It was supposed to be polite. Marco had always felt it just wasted time.

“We’re open to possibilities,” Marco said carefully. “But we like to know what we’re stepping into before we commit.”

“Prudent,” Quill agreed, steepling his fingers. “I wouldn’t expect less from a crew that’s managed to get as far as you have.”

Aethe leaned forward slightly. “And what sort of work do you have in mind?”

“That depends on your strengths. Can you share them with me?” Quill said, looking a lot like he knew that was asking for quite a bit. "Very generally, I mean. I don't need to know details."

"We are primarily a combat crew." Aethe said. "We could move goods, but our ship is small. Outside of that, we fight things."

"What was your biggest take?"

Marco looked at Aethe again for the answer. She seemed to have an angle on this he hadn't seen.

"Biggest is ours to know. Our most recent were a Kraken and a fleet of fairy ships."

"A Kraken?" Quill tilted his head. "That couldn't have been near here. Or easy."

"It wasn't," Aethe said simply. "On both counts."

Quill wanted to press. Marco could tell. The mayor resisted the urge, though, and spread his claws wide in a gesture that would have been conciliatory if it wasn't so damn sharp-looking.

“Let’s just say this. Quilton thrives because everyone here understands balance. You give something, you take something, and everyone benefits. The trick is to make sure everyone agrees the trade is fair, as I said before. If you want a combat mission, we have those. We need our waters clear just like everyone else does. I just want to make sure I'm not sending you to your doom.”

Elisa glanced at Marco, then back at Quill. “And you don't have locals up to the job?”

“Up to the job? Sure. Willing to do it? Less so. I have to pay someone. Anyone. I’m offering you the chance to benefit from that,” Quill said. “In exchange for skills I suspect you have and motivation to move forward that your little shopping trip proves outright.”

Marco leaned back, studying his opponenet. “You’ve been polite enough to invite us here instead of sending someone less friendly. That tells me you think we could be valuable. But I also haven't forgotten that the temple system wants us to put knives to each others throat, even if we aren't doing that.”

Quill’s smile darkened a bit, though he said nothing.

“Maybe we should start with you telling us exactly what you want done,” Marco said. “And we’ll tell you if we’re the right people for it.”

Quill nodded slowly, as if he’d expected no less. “Fair enough. There’s been trouble brewing east of here. We've had weaker ships going missing, fishermen returning with strange burns on their arms, and hulls scorched in ways no storm can manage. I want to know what’s doing it and, if possible, end it. You’ll get paid well if you can.”

Riv’s brow furrowed. “Scorched how? Fire? Acid? That's pretty vague for something they could just explain to you."

"And yet we don't know anything else. They all lose their memories. Anyone I send into that area either comes back completely fine if they are strong, mysteriously injured, or else doesn't come back at all. It's like the threat, whatever it is, can gauge the strength of those I send. Or else…"

He paused.

"Or else someone on this island is communicating with the threat, telling them where to find soft targets," Elisa pointed out. "Something like that."