After long days of travelling, Fen reached Baysend. Long, lonely days. Some days she had travelled all the way to a town and village that lay along the way, all similar to Northod, but with no familiar faces around. From now on, there would be no familiar faces to the places she went.

Baysend began breaking the norm of the settlements she had passed through. It was large, larger than any other place she’d been to. And the people. Crowding the street, yet flowing in masses like water in a river. A city. Would Phoelles be like this? Baysend was not Rendarr, the capital of the Empire, yet it was one of its larger cities.

With her pocket watch marking past noon, Fen made her way through the crowded streets. Some wider and others crammed, the streets labyrinthed through the city. Structures of wood upon foundations of stone lay in between the city roads. All of this lay before the actual city gates. All marks of a city that had grown faster than accounted for.

Where would she find a caravan heading to Phoelles? She had assumed there would be wagons waiting by the gate, ready to race off once she arrived. Perhaps at a stable somewhere in the city. But where would the stables be? She hadn’t noticed any past the city gates. She sighed and decided that heading towards the docks might be the best way to begin.

As she made her way towards the Bay, she noticed how the streets widened, yet the number of people increased. Now every building was made of clean-cut stone, yet merchants within wooden storefronts sold their wares. The ground began to curve downwards, and the smell of fish and saltwater filled the air. She could now see the sea stretch out as far as her eye could see. ‘Great Bay’ indeed. Only from a map, it looked anything like a bay. It was the first time she had ever laid her eyes upon the sea; upon the seemingly endless expanse of water. Her gaze swept northeast. Phoelles was in that direction, beyond the sea. Her destination. If only she could leap across, or drag the coast towards her, and reach there in an instant. Fen stretched her hand forward as if trying to grasp what lay ahead, grasp the answers she wanted, nay, needed. Yet it was so far it was beyond view. If only she could–

Someone bumped on her shoulder. “Make way!” Sailors hauling crates and dragging ropes crossed from one end to the other. Bells rang and seagulls squealed. “Move girl!” It was a dockhand holding a crate, ropes slung across his chest. She yelped and leapt away so fast she couldn’t even apologize. Not before someone else bumped into her. She tried to say something, but people just shouldered her away. Bells again, and seagulls screeching in her ear. And all the shouting. With all that noise and all so loud, her own thoughts became muffled. Hands covering her ears, Fen stumbled her way outside the crowd, unaware of any time she crashed against something or someone, ignoring the looks people gave her. She just wanted to leave the people. So many people.

After zigzagging through the multitude, and ducking through several alleys, Fen was finally alone. The sounds of the city were now only a murmur and a buzz behind her ears. Finally some quiet. Her left hand went to her chest. She felt her own heartbeat beating fast. It reminded her of a galloping horse. Thud after thud after thud. She breathed in, tried to calm herself down. Her father’s rings were pressed between her hand and chest. Balance, she thought. Her breathing stabilized, and soon after her heartbeat followed. She clutched her father’s rings, eyes closed, head resting on the stone wall behind her. Exhaustion enveloped her, exhaustion edged by hunger.

Fen opened her eyes to find herself completely lost, in an alley between two stone buildings, somewhere hopefully not very far from the docks. Hands still holding her father’s rings, she began making her way back. It was unacceptable. She was supposed to be an adult now. Running from crowds, what was she, a child? To be taken care of? Fen sighed. There was nobody to take care of her now, she had to fend for herself. She had to.

Turning the corner, she came across four men, not much older than her, resting in the alley. Some sat on some wooden crates, others rested by the wall. All four turned towards her. Fen stood still. She cleared her throat.

“Sorry,” she began, “do you know the way to the docks?”

“The docks?” Answered a skinny, pale-haired man as he stepped away from the crates. “What does a girl like you have to do at the docks?”

All four moved closer to her.

“I’m looking for–"

The skinny man touched her cheek. “I think you’d have a better time here.” Another man began fingering the leather strap of one of her sacks.

The hairs at the back of her neck shot straight up. Every fibre of her body screamed danger. What? What to do? Her thoughts were in jumbles.

Her father’s rings.

She pulled them from her shirt so the crystals, Thell and Maht, were in contact with her hand.

“Woah, those are some fancy rings you got there,” said another man of the group. “Are those crystals? Shatters, those rings must be worth a small fortune.”

They began closing in on her, back now against the wall. What to do? The crates. Perhaps a simple Push to scare them off. Basic Kinetic Push. Fen began making the mental arithmetics. How heavy was the crate? She would have to over-estimate. Or just push it really hard. How hard? How fast? she asked herself. Very.

“She must be from Upper West with that kind of jewellery,” said the shortest of the bunch. “You are a long way from Upper West, girl.”

The man stroked her cheek again. Her heart was beating faster than it did before. How precise were her calculations? No time to hesitate. She began adding multipliers. Two. Three. More. Four. She could barely keep the numbers in her head. Now.

Maht gave a slight scarlet glow. “What are you–"

One of the crates lunged and crashed against the man in front of her, knocking him down. Fen bolted away.

“What did you–"

“Help me put him on his feet again!”

“Hey, you! Get back here!”

Fen ran without looking back. Their voices slowly faded in the distance. She kept on running, trying to follow the murmur of a crowd. She turned left, then right, then kept on running straight until… The light of the sun blinded her. She heard bells. And seagulls. And shouts. No, not shouts; fish merchants. And the cacophony of people talking and walking. Fen never thought she would be so relieved to find herself in the middle of a crowd. Much less so after running from one earlier.

Her back ached from carrying the leather sacks. A slow headache began; it had been a while since she had done any Balancing Shifts. And the hunger; her stomach began to grumble. Loudly. She felt through one of her leather sacks. Had they..? There. She still had the heavy coin pouch her father had left her. She sighed with relief, then cringed as her back tensed. Perhaps she could afford a nice inn just this once. Maybe she deserved a nice rest today. And a bath, she thought. I could really use a bath right now. The caravans could wait until tomorrow.

Fen began making her way towards the more residential areas of Baysend. The… men… from before had mentioned Upper West; the northwestern end of Baysend. That must be the richer side of the city. Perhaps she could afford a nice inn close to Upper West.

After some walking, Fen came across an inn she decided to settle into. The sign had caught her attention. ‘The Misplaced Poet’. A reference to a children’s tale; her mother had told it to her many times as a child.

The innkeeper was a tall woman of greying hair, with a wrinkled face around her bold nose. She introduced herself as Helga Ferguss, but Fen could simply call her Helga. She asked what was Fen doing all alone in Baysend, to which Fen gave a simple, yet truthful, answer. No luck finding a caravan? Perhaps better luck tomorrow. Maybe Helga knew something, Fen could ask her again later. She ended up asking for a room for one, and a bath, and for a meal whenever possible.

“That will be two silver edges, my dear.”

Fen handed over the triangular coins. In the places she had stopped along the way they had never charged her more than five slabs. Perhaps she had chosen a too pricey inn. But there was no turning back now. Better enjoy it.

“Anna! Come here,” called Helga for a serving girl. “Prepare a bath for the lady, and take her to the sea-side room, second floor.” Fen giggled. In the state she was in, if she was just a single unit less of a lady, she would have been a piglet. A starving, aching piglet.

Helga gave her a gentle, motherly smile. “Enjoy your night, my dear.”

Anna, the serving girl, led Fen to her room. It was larger than any she had ever been to before, with a huge bed for two people. And all for her. Finally relieved of the weight of her sacks, Fen dropped onto the bed. What was the mattress made of? It was so comfortable! She would sleep well tonight.

Fen ate a whole sack of pecans waiting for her bath. And she was still hungry. She edged closer to the large, single-pane window. She could see the Great Bay stretch towards the horizon. Again her eyes pointed northeast. One step at a time, she thought.

Not long after, Anna called her to her bath. Fen spent her time there, working on the knots on her back. She hadn’t stopped to consider but… she had Pushed the crate rather strongly against the man. Strong enough to knock him unconscious. Or kill him. Had she killed him? Had she killed someone? No. No way. Had she seen blood? Or was she imagining things? Her father would’ve known what to do. Her father would have protected her. Her father… No. Stop it.

After the bath, Fen changed into a clean set of clothes, not much different from what she was wearing before: a white woollen tunic with a thick leather sash tied at the waist, a brown leather vest, leather leggings, and boots. She took one last look at the window before descending; the sun had almost finished setting.

The main room of the inn was filled almost to bursting. When had everyone arrived? Fen sat by the wall and Helga brought in a plate full of food. Meat with oven-baked potatoes and tomatoes all covered in a delicious gravy. Fen ate her fill.

Helga giggled as she came back for the plate. “You sure eat a lot for such a slim frame. How I wish I were like that.”

“Uhm… thanks..?” What was she supposed to answer to that?

Helga just giggled again and left.

Some of the lights dimmed then darkened. Fen hadn’t noticed before, but most of the lights here were Quo crystals. The crowd in the room was also beginning to quiet. The darkness… she was beginning to daze off…

A sudden strum of strings followed by a careful yet quick succession of notes awoke her. By the end of the room, a man was playing an instrument. Not quite a lute, but similar; only six strings, and a larger, sinuous body. The man was Helician, his short-cropped reddish hair and tan skin gave it off.

The man kept on playing, both individual notes and strums full of complex sounds that filled the space within the room. He both played the strings while banging the instrument’s body to a beat. The way he managed the tension, building up then realising it yet not quite, then playing a melody that almost seemed out of time with the harmony… How did he do it?

With a sudden strum that resolved the tune, the man finished playing. There was sweat on his face, his shirtsleeves were rolled back. Fen hadn’t realized it, but he had played for a long time. The room roared with praise, Fen was too amazed to do anything. The man accepted coins and praises, then bowed and moved towards the bar. Who was he? He looked not much older than her.

Fen stood and began making her way towards her room, but couldn’t help but overhear what the redheaded musician was saying.

“... perhaps stop halfway in Reiss Bridge and walk the rest of the way, resting in different villages along the way.”

Reiss Bridge… that was along the road to Phoelles. Was he going to Phoelles? She should talk to him, but she was so tired. Fen kept making her way.

“Fen!” It was Helga that called her. “Come here!”

Grudgingly, Fen moved closer to the bar. The redheaded man was still there. He smiled at her.

“You were looking for a caravan towards Phoelles, right? Well, I got one for you. He is moving in that direction as well.”

“Hi, Fen, right? My name’s Eliandor, but El is fine.” The Helician accent was strong in his speech; shortening vowels and slightly slurred. “Heard you are going to Phoelles, right?”

For a moment Fen couldn’t answer. “Uhm... Yes.” She was too sleepy to talk to anyone. Hope I’m not looking like an idiot in front of him!

El smiled again. “The day after tomorrow I’m leaving with a caravan Phoelles-bound. If you’d like, I’ll introduce you to the caravan master so you can arrange with him tomorrow.”

Really? “That’s great, thank–" Fen yawned, barely able to finish the sentence.

“You look like you could sleep for a whole day,” El said with a chuckle. “Meet me here tomorrow morning, I’ll take you to the caravan master then.”

Sleep didn’t take long to come once Fen reached her bed. No wonder that. All she dreamt about was crowds, bells, seagulls and the strumming of strings.