Morning settled over Dunwich's Reach in a dull, gray light. The scent of salt and fish clung to the air, thick and inescapable. Elias moved through the marketplace, hands tucked into his coat pockets, taking in the rhythm of the town. The streets were livelier than they had been the night before, but still muted. People moved between wooden stalls, heads low, words brief.
His eyes drifted over the stalls—baskets of dried fish, sacks of rice, bottles of cooking oil stacked neatly along the stone pathways. But it was Brackett's Wholesales that caught his attention. The name was everywhere, stamped onto wooden crates and nailed onto signposts. They weren't just another vendor; they owned the supply. If Deepwell Extractions controlled the mines, then the Bracketts had their hands on something just as vital.
For a brief moment, he considered what that meant—then moved on.
The road sloped downward, leading him to the docks. The wooden piers stretched out over the gray waters, the waves rolling in steady, slow pulses. Boats rocked against their moorings, damp ropes creaking as men worked along the shoreline. The morning fishing routine had ended, and the workers had gathered in loose circles, sipping drinks, swapping stories.
Elias recognized some of them from The Black Harpoon the night before. He smirked to himself. Time to fish.
He moved casually toward the group, letting their conversation pull him in before speaking.
"…I'm telling you, not a trace," one of the older men muttered. His beard was stiff with salt, his fingers curled around a tin cup. "No wreckage. No bodies. Just gone."
A younger fisherman scoffed. "Storm must've taken 'em."
"There wasn't a storm."
Another man, heavier, with sun-cracked skin, grunted. "Happens more than you think. Sometimes a ship just disappears."
Silence followed. Then another voice, hesitant, belonging to a younger man. "I heard worse." He glanced around, lowering his voice slightly. "There was a man… gone near a week. Came home late one night, clothes still soaked through. Didn't say a word, just sat at the table like he'd never left."
The others shifted uncomfortably.
"Didn't last long after that."
The words hung in the air for a moment before someone scoffed. "You lot start drinking too early."
A few chuckled, though there was unease in their laughter.
Elias let the moment settle before nudging the conversation forward. "And yet, you still go out there."
One of the older men grunted. "Gotta eat, don't we?"
They moved on, talking about their next trip, the tides, the best spots for fishing. The topic drifted further inland—to the war.
Vundora's rebellion had been burning hotter than ever. The government, with its corporate backers, had been tightening its grip, and not everyone was willing to roll over. Some of the fishermen sympathized with the rebels, saying the country belonged to the people, not the men in glass towers. Others thought the rebels were making things worse.
Elias listened, then eased his way in. "Rebels causing trouble, military tightening its hold—guess that means more recruitment."
A few grumbled in agreement. Someone muttered about forced conscriptions. Another about trade routes being cut off by government patrols.
Elias leaned on a crate, gazing out at the ocean. "The land's spoken for. What about the sea?"
The group quieted for a beat.
A man, who hadn't been part of the original conversation, finally spoke. "The sea's only as free as those who know how to use it."
Elias turned slightly, taking in the new speaker. Better dressed than the fishermen. Not dressed for dock work either. He'd been lingering nearby for a while now, listening.
Before Elias could press further, another voice cut in.
"I thought the monsters owned the sea."
There was a beat of silence, then a ripple of laughter, though some men avoided each other's eyes.
Elias let the moment settle before shifting the conversation again. "People really get taken by the sea, or is that just talk?"
The young fisherman from earlier hesitated before speaking. "I heard Pike was taken."
The laughter died. The men glanced at one another.
Elias kept his tone casual. "Pike was a miner, wasn't he? What was he doing out on the water?"
There was a pause before someone finally answered.
"He was fired," one of the older men muttered. "Theft. Deepwell let him go, but didn't charge him."
Elias raised a brow. "That right?"
"Tried to be a fisherman after that," the man continued. "Didn't last long." He shifted, exhaling through his nose. "Then one night, he was gone."
Elias nodded slightly. "Then why not just say that? What's with all the hush-hush?"
An older fisherman gave him a long, measured look before leaning in slightly. "You're new here, so you don't know. It's best not to ask too many questions around these parts."
Elias took that as his cue to leave. He pushed off the crate and cast a glance toward the well-dressed man who had spoken earlier. Just the briefest flick of his eyes, enough to say, I heard you.
The man hesitated, then followed.
They stopped at a quieter part of the docks, still within sight of the workers but far enough to speak privately.
The man was the first to break the silence. "You looking to move something?"
Elias turned to him, unreadable. "Who do I talk to?"
The man smirked slightly. "Depends on what you're moving."
Elias didn't answer.
The man clicked his tongue, sizing him up. "Some things cost more than others."
Elias stayed silent.
The man exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders. "I can handle it myself. For a fee."
Elias barely reacted. "I don't need a middleman. Point me to whoever's in charge."
The smuggler hesitated. He wanted to handle this himself—gain favor with his boss.
Elias turned slightly, like he was about to walk.
"Alright, alright," the man muttered. "Maybe I can arrange a meeting. No promises."
Elias gave a slow nod.
"Come back this evening," the man said. "Someone will come to get you."
Elias took note of the time. Evening. The same time he was supposed to meet Maddie.
For a moment, he weighed the options. Maddie had seemed to know something about Pike, about the town's underbelly. She was loose-lipped, easily swayed. She could be useful.
But a connection with someone who had real ties to Deepwell? Someone who actually knew how the town worked?
The decision wasn't difficult.
A pity the times coincided. But it wasn't a big deal.
As Elias left the docks, he let his eyes sweep across the piers, checking for anyone paying too much attention. No one seemed to be watching. No glances, no sudden movements.
At least, none that he could see.