The most recent haul of fish had proven to provide the crew a decent handful of gold, though mainly just the regular species you’d find in the area. It was a living, supposedly. Sail around, catch fish, maybe some other goods, and sell it off at the nearest seaside village. And this time, it was Sturgeon Bay. A small town with all the essentials except for a half-decent lighthouse, which only lead for the nighttime fog to prevent the crew from leaving in a hurry.

So they had no choice but to stay a while. Most of the crew had booked some rooms in the inn, though a few stayed to their quarters in the ship that smelt purely of salt and old fish. Rio, though, preferred to venture under the shallow shores surface while the rest of his companions entertained themselves idly. His aquatic nature certainly helped.

The Triton dragged himself back out of the ocean and onto the rocky beach a few hundred feet from the port, straining his hair from most of the salty water. Would still need a shower, though. He’d managed to scavenge through some old luggage that presumably got knocked off ships in storms, finding a few shiny trinkets and discarded gold. Better than nothing even if they were covered in grime and gunk.

Rio returned to the docks and hid his discoveries in a bag that he’d stowed within an old crate before getting roughly bumped from behind, the action causing his hands to slip and knock the light crate into the water. He swore under his breath.