Akira Madlock wasn’t fond of water. She drank it, of course. She needed it to survive. But give her an open body of water and she would rather run away than get in.

So, needless to say, when she found out that her mission required her to go to the Sour Salmon Inn she was less than exited. Nicknamed the tavern on the water, the Sour Salmon Inn was surrounded by water.

There was land on either side of the inn, but not much. The Inn was located on a tiny island. A massive marsh dominated most of it. The Sour Salmon Inn was on stilts in one of the narrowest parts of the wetland.

A small forest surrounded the marsh. Though you could use it to get to the inn, it was dangerous and the journey took weeks. Akira didn’t have weeks.

So she had steeled her nerve and gotten in that tiny paddle boat. Using a boat it only took a few hours to reach the tavern. When she arrived, she was sweating and her muscles were cramping.

The mind numbing terror she felt when she had first gotten in the boat was soon replaced with mind numbing boredom. If she didn’t focus on the water she was fine.

She knew her mission was important. She needed information that only her informant would have. And they were to meet up here. It was worth the terror of the water.

This information could help her save lives. It could help her end the war. Her commander was counting on her to get it. And so she would.

She stepped out of the small water craft and swayed for a second before she could find her balance again. She dragged the boat on the shore and to the spot all the other little crafts had been stowed.

She retrieved her few belongings: a water canteen, her supply pack, her dagger, a drab brown cloak, and lastly the scroll she was to give to her guy. She put the canteen and the scroll back in her supply pack. She draped the bag across her body. She clipped the dagger around her waist. Then she swung the cloak over her shoulders.

She went up to the door and took a deep breath. It was peaceful out here, but she knew that inside it would be anything but. Akira pushed the door open and stepped inside. It took a few seconds for her eyes to get adjusted.

The tavern smelled of stale ale and fish. Akira knew that they also served beef and mutton, but the smell of fish was overpowering.

She scanned the crowded, noisy room. She was looking for the table that she was to meet her informant at. He should have already been there. She found it, and sitting there was her brother, whom she believed to be dead.