"Damn, this place is beautiful," Sylaina said as both she and Tycon entered the village.

Of course, they were met with the curious stares that he had gotten many times before. From the moment they stepped into the small seaside village, he could feel their eyes on him, unwaveringly watching their every move as if they expected them to cause some sort of trouble. The village was charming, having small huts scattered across the sandy trails that led through. Most of the huts were made from palm leaves and bamboo, it was something Tycon found simplistic in a good way. They were far from the dark and dank city streets he had seen most of his life, and the dirty farming villages he'd traveled through.

Despite the heavy stench of fish and salt, the place felt rather clean and unpolluted, like everything was done naturally in this part of Sciolyn. The disease of industry had not yet made its way to the quaint village and he hoped it wouldn't ever. The serene beauty of the seaside was something to be cherished, despite the odd things that lay beneath the surface.

They were now directly on the southern coast of Sciolyn and further south - in the ocean - were the isles. Large islands of mostly sand and stone. He could see them in the distance from the center of the village, just beyond the fishing dock. That was likely their destination but he knew it wouldn't be that simple. Who knows how much time they'd spend simply searching for anything of significance. He knew that they would be spending a whole lot of time scouring the sea around the coastline of the isles.

He figured that maybe they could get some leads or learn something from the locals but so far they'd been hesitant to even approach the two elves. Maybe it was the way they were dressed? The villagers seemed to only trade with the town beyond the mountain for goods that couldn't be found within the sea and they were mostly human.

Maybe it's some sort of culture shock.

The villagers were mostly dressed in simple cloth leggings and shirts, likely crafted from certain leaves that grew in the area. Tycon didn't know much about the looming process but he could take a wild guess that it took a long time to craft a shirt. Most of the men in the village seemed to not know what a shirt was, but who could blame them? Their sun-kissed skin was perfect for the sun and ocean; when you spend a lot of time in the water farming oysters and clams, who needs a shirt?

Like everywhere in Sciolyn, the village, of course, had a tavern, though this one was built from different materials. Mostly built out of wood from an oak with a stone foundation, the building certainly stood out from the identical bamboo huts that were scattered around. He wondered what the story was behind the construction of the tavern and why here of all places. The building looked slightly waterlogged and showed the whithering after-effects of seaside decay and when he stepped up onto the verandah, he could see the trails upon trails of sand all across the deck and leading inside the building.

The atmosphere within was a lot more vibrant than the gloom he experienced on the way in. The large wooden room smelt of tobacco and alcohol with the odd mix of piss to go with it. Tycon wrinkled his nose at the sudden stench and in the corner of his eye, he could see Sylaina do the same. The people inside didn't look like the villagers he had passed on the way in. Most of them were armed with blades and were dressed in gambesons and leather armor. They looked like both he and Sylaina - mercenaries.

Not a single villager was inside the tavern and Tycon felt an odd feeling growing within him but quickly chose to ignore it and instead approached the barkeep who was drying a mug with a not so clean cloth. The large man glanced up as they approached, scratching his thick dark mustache as he greeted them.

"What will it be?" The man asked, his hearty booming voice still barely managing to drown out the conversations in the background.

"Information," Tycon simply replied.

The man sighed and continued drying the mug, speaking as he did, "You're not the first to come through here asking for information," He said, "Let me guess, you're looking for something?"

Both Tycon and Sylaina leaned on the bar, interested in what the man had to say, "Indeed we are looking for something," Tycon said.

He shook his head, "I ain't got much to tell you two, only what I told them," He gestured to two men who were seated in the far back corner. Tycon could see their stares on them both and they looked like trouble.

"What did you tell them?" Tycon asked.

"Well, you see. They paid for their information, so..." The man coughed and held out his hand.

Tycon glanced back at the two men and then to the barkeep and sighed, reluctantly pulling his coin purse from his pack.

"How much?" Sylaina asked.

The man stared at the pouch Tycon held and he was obviously trying to hide a smile, "That'll do."

"What, the whole thing?" Tycon could barely contain his outrage.

"That's not going to happen," Sylaina sneered, "You give a fair price and we'll happily pay it,"

"No pay, no information," The man shrugged.

Tycon clicked his sword slightly from its scabbard, "Listen here, friend," He spat, "I'll be giving you fifty uons for the information, no more. Unless you'd like to come out the back and be tonight's meat special."

"What's going on here," A stern male voice said from behind.

Tycon and Sylaina turned to see it was one of the men who had been sitting at the back earlier. He was tall and had a muscular frame. Stubble had begun to grow on his gaunt square chin, it ran all the way up his small face and met with the sideburns of his short brown hair. His blue eyes were menacing and Tycon could tell from his expression that he was obviously bothered by the commotion.

"Nothing," The barkeep said, "Just a little bit of haggling."

"It looked more like you were threatening him," He said to Tycon, pointing to his sword that he still had a firm grip on.

"He was practically trying to rob us," Tycon argued, "A whole sack of coin for some information that's likely useless anyway."

The muscular man turned back to the barkeep, "Really? Again? I've been here for two weeks and this is easily the fourth time I've seen you do this. I guess you've been bumping it up for each traveler to come through here," He sighed, "Look, you better be careful who you try to swindle, barkeep. Or your boss will mysteriously find out you've been collecting a large sum of coin on the side without his knowledge. We wouldn't want that, would we?"

"Y-yeah, of course not, here," The barkeep began to pour four drinks before setting them down on the bar, "On the house, take it as an apology."

Tycon reached into the coin purse and tossed a handful of coins onto the bar, "Take this as my apology."

"The information you're looking for," The barkeep said, "It's about a mysterious blue light that has been cast over the mountains in the isles. There are several travelers here that are looking for its source, no luck so far."

Tycon looked around, the tavern was practically full with nobody but what looked like mercenaries. He wondered if they had the same dreams he did and if they were all there on a common purpose. He didn't see why else all these travelers and mercs would be there.

"So you're here looking for the same thing we all are," The muscular man said and extended his hand, "The name is Daenor, you two wouldn't be interested in teaming up would you?"

"No, we're not," Tycon said.

Daenor gestured to his friend who still sat in the corner eyeing them, "Well how about you two have a drink with us and see if you change your mind?"

His friend seemed watchful and just by his expression alone, Tycon could tell that he thought they were trouble. He had no intention of sitting with them, time was short and what they were after wasn't something they could share or something he was willing to share. Tycon went to decline when Sylaina spoke first.

"We'd be happy to join you," She said politely, giving Tycon a look that suggested he should go along with it.

What is she playing at?

"Come along then," Daenor smiled.

Tycon leaned into Sylaina as they made their way to the table with Daenor's back to them, "What are you doing?" He whispered.

"We might be able to learn more about what's going on here."

"I doubt it."

"Let's just see," She whispered, her tone sharp as a dagger, "We might even get some allies out of this,"

"I'm not here to make friends, Sylaina," He replied.

"We sure-as-shit need some if whatever we're looking for has a guardian like the one you spoke of in Meliora."

He hadn't thought of that. The one objective of getting the gem had clouded his thoughts until they became linear. A line of thinking that could lead one to their deaths. He looked at Sylaina and appreciated her presence and clear mind, something that - lately - he was unable to grasp. He kept telling himself that the gem would somehow help him find Ren but he knew deep down it was wishful thinking, something to keep him moving; another purpose when saving the world felt pointless. He knew that maybe he'd have to accept that he was gone but he couldn't. There had to be a way.

He kept himself silent as he followed Daenor towards the table where his friend sat. The silence felt awkward and the man's stare across the table - even with all the noise around them - gave a sense of foreboding. Daenor took a seat next to his friend, sitting across from both Tycon and Sylaina. He took a moment to observe the man before him.

He was a thin man and looked rather tall, even when sitting. Shaggy brown hair hung just above his eyebrows and his hazel eyes locked with Tycon's for a moment as he observed. Tycon quickly shot a glance at the table to avoid the man's gaze. His face was small and clean-shaven, with a jaw that was shapely and well defined. Tycon guessed the man was at least in his early twenties and the lack of any facial scars told him two things; He was either very good or not very experienced. His question was answered when he noticed the crossbow that was resting on the man's leg by the side of the chair, he didn't fight up close.

"This is Valin," Daenor said, slapping his hand on the other man's shoulder. Tycon saw him wince at the contact.

"W-well met," Valin replied and extended his hand to Tycon, which he shook and then to Sylaina who accepted the handshake aswell.

The way the man spoke caught Tycon off guard. He had figured that Valin was the strong quiet type, but after hearing him speak, he was no longer inclined to believe it. He seemed uncomfortable, not on guard. It made him wonder what Daenor's relationship with him was, they seemed like polar opposites.

"So what exactly brings you here?" Tycon asked.

Daenor hesitated for a moment then took a sip of beer from his mug, "You're not gonna believe this but... It was a dream."

Sylaina and Tycon both looked at one another, "A dream?" Sylaina said.

Daenor nodded, "I know it sounds insane but it was Lucid as if I were really there. Normally I'd have palmed it off as something crazy my mind conjured up but something about it felt so real," He paused for another large sip, "You're here aren't you? Tell me, did you have the same dream as all the others I've asked?"

Tycon hesitated but it was obvious by Daenor's intense expression that he already knew the answer, so he told him the truth.

"I did have the same dream. A young elf standing by the river dressed in a light white dress, who only spoke in with vague directions and predictions."

Daenor nodded, "Yeah, the exact same dream beat for beat," He paused for another sip and let out a satisfied sigh, "Now, let's get to business. You told me that you're not interested in teaming up but I have to ask, Do you have a boat?"

Both Sylaina and Tycon looked to one another and then back to Daenor and shook their heads.

"Then how exactly do you plan on getting to the Isles?" Daenor asked with a hint of condescension in his tone.

Tycon locked his jaw and bit his tongue, trying his best to dismiss the mans tone before answering him, "I had planned on hiring a boat."

"What? The feeble fishing boats from the village? You've got to be kidding me. You take that thing two miles out and the choppy waves will have you capsized within the minute."

"And you've got something better?" Tycon replied, trying to match the condescending tone Daenor had prior.

To Tycon's surprise, Daenor nodded enthusiastically, "Yeah, I have my ship anchored just around the island behind the trees. I'm surprised you didn't see it on the way in."

Daenor was right, he was surprised and he wondered why his ship would be docked around the coast behind the trees instead of at the fishing dock that lay only a hundred meters from the tavern. It raised some red flags but he decided to give the man the benefit of the doubt. Tycon glanced again at Valin, who hadn't spoken once since he introduced himself and they locked eyes for a moment. He tried to read them but his expression was blank, he could see nothing within them, no hint of any emotion whatsoever. His body language was still what Tycon perceived as uncomfortable.

"Well Daenor," Tycon said slamming the mug onto the table signaling the finality of the conversation, "I'll think about your offer but I want to let you know now that it's likely we'll come aboard," He extended his hand to the man.

Daenor quickly burst from his seat and clasped Tycon's hand with a firm grip and shook it with a broad smile spread across his stubbled gaunt cheeks.

"Return to me here in the morning with your answer, I'll see you then."

The cool coastal wind flowed through the old bedroom window of the Inn, bringing with it the pleasant salty smell of the coast and to Tycon's surprise and delight, no stench of fish was carried along with it. The room was about what he expected, small and simple with a single bed that he suggested both he and Sylaina share, although She insisted they have separate rooms despite the extra cost. After some debate, he finally compromised with sleeping on the floor if it made her feel better. He glanced down at the old rug that would soon be his bed and sighed. The fabric looked as if it had been clawed at by some animal with strands of the fabric protruding upwards and flickering with the wind that flowed through. He guessed it was rats.

Sylaina sat by the window across form him, leaning back lazily in a small splintered chair with her feet on the window sill, staring into the sunset that had begun to peak through the window and into the room.

"Is it just me it did something seem off with that Valin guy?" She said turning her head slightly in his direction, "He barely spoke."

"If I recall, you barely spoke too, but you're right. Something did seem off."

Sylaina chuckled, "I figured I'd let you do the talking. You're a lot better at that than I am, I'd probably just piss him off."

"Yeah you're right about that too," Tycon replied.

"Hey, you weren't supposed to agree," She said playfully, shaking her head.

Tycon grinned, "But then I'd be lying."

The two laughed then let the moment settle before the conversation returned back to the matter at hand.

"Do you trust Daenor?" Sylaina asked.

"No, I don't," Tycon replied, "But I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and I'd rather be on a ship than a rickety boat."

"We don't have much of a choice do we."

Tycon sat on the side of the bed and began cleaning the blade of his sword, "I didn't see any other ships on the way in. Then again I didn't see his ship on the way in either."

"And there were a lot of mercenaries in the Tavern," Sylaina added, "Do you think there are more ships docked along the coast outside the village?"

"Possibly," He said as he caressed the old cloth along the pommel, "But I'm willing to bet some of them were his crew."

"Once we get there, we're gonna need those numbers against whatever we find. Better to be safe than sorry."

"Hopefully they put up a good fight," Tycon said, sheathing his sword.

He looked at her across the room. Sylaina had let her brown hair loose as she sat back staring into the sunset horizon, the strands blowing and coiling in the breeze, exposing her small pointy ears. He felt guilty looking at her, but he had to admit she was beautiful. He remembered their brief and awkward kiss back in the forest and a large wave of embarrassment washed over him. Maybe in that moment intimacy was something he needed and a kiss wouldn't have hurt, but he always returned his thoughts to Ambre. Maybe he finally needed to accept that their statuses in the world around them didn't coincide. Maybe they really weren't meant for each other.

Let her go.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Sylaina said sternly, pulling Tycon from his thoughts.

"I wasn't staring at anything," He replied.

"I can feel your eyes on me and can see you in my peripheral," She shook her head, "Something on your mind."

"No, nothing. I was just thinking, maybe we should let loose for the night. Go downstairs to the tavern and have a good time. We've been on the road for a long time and we're about to head out into the isles. I think we should have some R&R."

"Sounds like a lot was on your mind," She joked, "And I can never say no to a few beers."

"And I can never say no to a glass of wine," He replied.

"I don't think you're gonna find wine in this shithole."

"No," Tycon laughed, "I don't think I will. Beer will have to do."