In the morning, Silver Scale Bay awoke in a bustle of crowds and noise.

The town had almost no nightlife. People slept early and rose early.

Silver Scale Bay stretched along the coast in a long, curved crescent. A winding main street ran through the entire town and was its broadest, busiest thoroughfare.

Shops of every kind lined both sides. Fragrant, fishy, and peculiar smells mingled with the sea breeze and assailed every nose.

"What's this, and how much does it cost?" Bratt stopped at a small stall where a halfling man sold a colorful, strongly aromatic dish.

"Halfling stew, sir." The halfling spoke with an unusual accent but an enthusiastic tone. "Chicken broth with shredded chicken, onion, potato, red bell pepper, corn, carrot... Absolutely delicious, and only nine copper pieces..."

"What about this?"

"Sweet oatcake, four copper pieces each. You know how everything costs more now..." The halfling spoke rapidly, his words running together and making him difficult to understand.

"Three stews and six oatcakes." Bratt had just received a share of their "stolen money" and felt wealthy.

"One moment, sir." The halfling accepted the money, his pitch rising several notes.

Because the stew contained broth, the halfling folded large, unfamiliar leaves into round bowls to hold it. He wrapped the oatcakes in leaves as well, protecting their hands from the heat and adding a fresh herbal fragrance.

"Eat while it's hot." Bratt passed food to Anser and Finn.

"Didn't you already eat?" Anser waved him off and took only one oatcake.

The cake was smaller than his palm and about a finger thick, with a golden color. One bite filled his mouth with rich oats and milk.

Still, charging four copper pieces for something so small was blatant profiteering. Most laborers earned only several copper pieces a day, which was no longer enough for food at current prices.

"The Moonshadow Quelin's breakfast portions were too small and too vegetarian. This is much more satisfying," Bratt complained.

"Agreed." Finn strongly approved.

Breakfast at the Moonshadow Quelin was complimentary but consisted only of bread, pumpkin, and herbal tea, one serving per person with no refills. Bratt and Finn had not come close to eating their fill.

"This stew is excellent, but there's too little meat." Bratt ate as they walked, the aroma making numerous passersby gulp.

"Be grateful. Prices may rise even higher." Anser sighed.

Silver Scale Bay had fish, farms, and open trade routes, so food supplies remained normal. As more refugees arrived, however, the situation could deteriorate.

Bratt quickly finished one stew, poured its remaining broth into Anser's portion, stirred it, and continued eating.

One serving was enough to fill an ordinary person with several pieces of bread, but Bratt ate two or three times as much as most people.

They reached the docks just as Bratt and Finn finished eating. Anser placed the remaining three oatcakes in his pack.

"This is Fishbone Wharf, isn't it? There are plenty of ships." Bratt pointed toward the noisy docks.

"Don't rush. Let's take a look." Anser had never seen so many sailing ships and found them fascinating.

Silver Scale Bay possessed many docks. Fishbone Wharf, the largest, stood in the bay's central section, where passenger ships from nearly every destination gathered.

The docks were packed shoulder to shoulder. Many people carried luggage, but few were allowed aboard.

Anser's group found the ticket office. SOLD OUT signs hung outside and in every window, while numerous people waited beyond with blankets.

One passenger ship was checking tickets and boarding. A crowd surrounded it: some people attempted to slip aboard amid the confusion, some tried to purchase tickets from others, and some wept and begged. Everything was chaotic.

"Calenor was right. We can't buy tickets unless we take a small boat." Bratt's hopes collapsed, leaving him disappointed.

"It's fine. We aren't in a hurry." Anser reassured him. They had come to sell items and were only looking at the ships in passing.

He followed the docks south, carefully examining the wooden sailing vessels that resembled antiques. Their complicated ropes and sails made his head ache, and he wondered how anyone controlled them.

Here, even a hundred-foot ship counted as medium-sized. In his previous life, Anser had seen many fishing vessels larger than that.

'How could anyone not get seasick?' Crossing an ocean in such a ship might be more painful than imprisonment.

Bratt focused instead on the cannons. "I've heard those are extremely powerful. An ordinary classed individual can't survive one shot."

"Mm." Of course Anser knew that.

Faerûn's firearms and artillery were primitive, having remained muzzle-loading and smoothbore after years of development. Their accuracy was poor, but they were still firearms and could hardly be weak.

A light smoothbore cannon of ten-plus-pound caliber had a maximum range of 2,400 feet (720 meters) and dealt 8d10 (8–80) damage on a hit. Low-level classed individuals survived by evading it; attempting to withstand a shot was suicide.

Just then, a medium sailing ship slowly approached a nearby berth. Before its lines were secured, a bearded man stepped to the rail holding a bell.

Clang, clang, clang!

The urgent ringing drew many people's attention.

"Anyone sailing to Palos? Only five gold pieces! Five per person, food included! Eighty passengers only, and we leave as soon as we're full..."

Before he finished, the crowd surged forward. Anser's group stood beside the berth and was nearly pushed into the sea.

"Me! I have money..."

"I want three tickets..."

"Stop pushing..."

"Mama..."

"..."

The bearded man smiled broadly. "Don't crowd! Form a line..."

The ship soon settled into its berth. A group of crew members wearing leather armor and carrying muskets emerged from below. They quickly lowered the gangway and spread into guarded positions, their gazes sweeping the surroundings.

The crowd had no patience to wait and scrambled aboard.

The crew did not stop them. The bearded man held open a sack and allowed people to throw money inside without counting it.

Some even took advantage of the chaos and tossed in only several silver pieces.

Bratt frowned and nudged Anser with his elbow. "Something's wrong. Passenger ships don't operate like this."

Passenger ships followed rules and procedures. They established departure times, destinations, and prices, printed tickets, and boarded ticket holders at the appointed time. Departures and arrivals also had to be reported to the harbor because taxes were owed.

"Five gold pieces is practically charity." Anser touched the holy symbol on his chest. It was burning hot.

He had heard of Palos, a small port city more than a hundred miles north of Baldur's Gate.

Tickets normally cost at least three gold pieces. Under current conditions, people would pay twenty or thirty, making a price of five genuinely charitable.

Besides, could such a small ship hold eighty passengers and dozens of crew members unless they were packed like livestock?

Anser's group was not alone in noticing the problem. Many suspicious people remained at the edge of the crowd rather than approaching.

"Slavers," Bratt whispered, his hand instinctively settling on his sword hilt.

Anser shook his head. It was not that he was cold-blooded; this was simply beyond them.

He focused on the bearded man:

[First Mate of the Conch, Human, Level 4 Fighter (Battle Master)]

Several crew members were classed individuals, and everyone carried a musket. After several volleys, Bratt and Finn would probably resemble sieves.

1. Halfling Stew:

Melt 3 tablespoons of butter in a small skillet over medium heat. Add rosemary, garlic, and a pinch of salt, cooking and stirring until fragrant, about 1 minute. Remove from heat and set aside to let the herbs infuse the butter.

In a Dutch oven or large saucepan, melt the remaining 3 tablespoons of butter over medium-high heat. Add onion, carrot, red pepper, bay leaf, thyme, and 1 teaspoon of salt. Cook while stirring until the vegetables soften, about 5 minutes. Reduce to medium-low, cover, and continue cooking with occasional stirring until the vegetables release their juices, about 8 minutes. Add chicken broth and potatoes, raise to medium-high, and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to very low, cover, and simmer until the potatoes begin to soften, about 5 minutes. Add green beans and raise the heat until the liquid gently boils. Reduce to very low, cover, and cook until the beans begin to soften, about 3 minutes. Add leek, corn, chicken, three-quarters of a teaspoon of salt, and a little pepper. Raise the heat until the liquid gently boils, then reduce to very low, cover, and simmer until the potatoes and beans are tender, the leek wilts, and the corn and chicken are heated through, about 3 minutes. Discard the bay leaf. Taste and season with salt and pepper as needed.

Return the seasoned butter to medium heat and melt it. Strain through a fine mesh sieve. Ladle out the soup and drizzle one or two teaspoons of seasoned butter over each serving.

2. Firearms: Faerûn possesses firearms and artillery of widely varying quality.

Pistol: 1d10 Piercing damage, range 30/90.

Musket: 1d12 Piercing damage, range 40/120.

(End of Chapter)