*drops new fic and scurries away*
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A long, thin road wound through the forest. The packed dirt was riddled with footprints, wagon wheel marks, and hoofprints from use, but the road's narrowness and potholes told that the use wasn't often. The trees seemed to crowd around it, threatening to take back the area if the road went neglected for any longer.
A single cart rattled down the road, pulled by a single scrawny mule. The man that drove the cart looked just as exhausted and frail as the mule. His brown hair was greasy from days without wash and his goatee around his mouth was a bit grown out. He glanced behind him at the contents of the cart, which was just a few chests of belongings and a woman with bright red hair. She was clearly at least eight months pregnant and had her arms wrapped around her stomach. She looked up at the man driving the cart with an equally miserable expression.
"Are you okay?" He asked. "Do you need anything? Food? Water?"
The woman shook her head. "I'm fine, Steve. We better save our rations anyway."
He frowned at her. "No, Alex, if you need something tell me. I'm worried about you."
"I'm fine, I swear," She insisted.
Steve hummed in disbelief but said nothing. A small breeze blew in his face and it smelled faintly of sea salt. They were close.
The road led up to the top of a hill. The forest extended a few more miles before giving way to a gorgeous blue bay, enclosed on one side by a rocky peninsula. The sun sparkled on the waves and a sailboat was heading towards shore, where there was a small town peeking out of the trees. Steve smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks and looked back at Alex. "We're almost there!" he called. She also managed to crack a smile.
About thirty minutes later, the cart made it to the town. The oak planks on the houses were curling from the salty sea air and seagulls circled overhead, screeching at each other indignantly. The town almost seemed abandoned, since no one was outside. An old woman glared at the couple from a window, showing that the place wasn't completely deserted. A long, rickety pier extended out into the bay, and the town inn had been built about halfway down. Two boats were docked on this pier, one significantly larger than the other. Steve stopped the cart at the pier and hopped out, helping Alex out as well. The two walked down the pier towards the inn. The boards creaked below their feet, making Steve's heart pound. He prayed they wouldn't give out beneath him as he reached the inn.
The inn was much less deserted than the town around it. There were about twenty people inside, some laughing loudly at bad jokes and others hunched over their tables, speaking in hushed whispers. Large mugs of beer clanked against each other and their contents sloshed around. Most of the people in the inn were large, burly figures in overalls and the men had thick, salt-encrusted beards. A few people sneered at the newcomers.
Steve instinctively entwined his fingers with Alex's and gave her a reassuring squeeze, which she returned. He walked up to the bar, where the innkeeper was stereotypically cleaning a mug with a white rag. He wasn't as muscular as some of the other men, probably since he didn't work on the docks like them, but his face was still twisted into the same permanent frow. He looked down at Steve, unamused. "You ain't from around here, are ya? What brings ya to Seacrest?" he asked with a thick costal accent.
Steve cleared his throat. "Hello, sir. My wife and I have come from Northridge, looking for work. We lost our jobs and home in the Depression, and we heard that people coming to the coast were having luck fishing."
The innkeeper looked at the two and let out a gruff laugh. "You don't look like a fisherman."
Steve sighed. "I'm… not. I'm a miner, and my wife is a redstone engineer. We've both been laid off, though, and we need money especially since we're expecting a child." He gestured at Alex's extended stomach.
The innkeeper scowled down at them. "You ain't cut out for this kinda work, and no one here is hiring city folks like yourselves. Find another town." He turned away from them.
Steve's shoulder's slumped in defeat and Alex looked close to tears. They exchanged miserable expressions and turned to leave.
"Wait."
The two turned towards the new voice. In one of the back corners, a lone man sat with a large tankard of beer. He was massive, easily clearing six feet and had broad shoulders. He was missing one of his legs from the knee down and had a peg leg instead. He had a deep scar running down one side of his face and through his eye, which was covered with an eye patch. He was completely bald but had a thick brown beard frosted with gray. He studied Steve and Alex with his good eye. "You two really looking for work?"
Steve nodded hopefully. "Please, we're desperate."
The mysterious fisherman glared hard at the innkeeper and stood up. "I could always use another set of hands. You put in the effort and I'll pay you well, and I have an extra room if you two really need it."
The two exchanged expressions of disbelief. "I-I-I don't know what to say. Th-thank you," Alex managed to say, while Steve was still frozen in stunned shock.
Th fisherman nodded. "Times are tough, I'm happy to help those who need it." He then shot a withering scowl at the innkeeper, who shot it back. There was a history there, but the two dared not ask about it in fear of jeopardizing their position.
The fisherman beckoned for the two to follow him, and they gladly did so. He led them out of the inn and down the pier. "This yours?" he asked, gesturing to their cart.
"Yes," Steve said. "I'd be happy to give you a ride to your home, it's the least I could do for what you're doing for us."
The fisherman nodded. "Thanks. I live in that lighthouse down there," he said, pointing at the tower built on one of the peninsulas. Steve nodded and the three climbed into the cart. He took the reins and they started down the grassy path.
"So, what's y'alls names?" the fisherman asked.
"I'm Steve, and this is my wife, Alex. What's yours?"
"Name's Michael. Friends call me Mike. Pleasure to meet you two," the fisherman said with a small smirk. "Heard the Depression brought you here?"
Alex nodded. "No one is hiring anymore since no one can afford to pay wages."
Michael nodded. "I've heard how bad it's getting in cities. Luckily, it hasn't hit here as badly. Lotta farmers come here tradin' us vegetables for our fish. We also find a lotta stuff that sells pretty easy. If we get lucky we can net enchanted books and valuable tools."
Steve nodded. "So, when do you want us to start?"
"Tomorrow," Michael said simply. "The boat leaves at dawn and you better be on it." He glanced at Alex. "I don't wanna make a pregnant woman work, so I'm sure there's something 'round the house you can do to earn money."
"O-oh! Thank you," Alex said.
"I don't know how we'll ever repay you," Steve admitted. "You've already done so much for us and we've known you for ten minutes."
Michael smirked. "You'll repay me with hard work. Like I said, times are tough, and a nice couple like yourselves don't deserve to raise a kid on the streets."
The lighthouse was built at the end of the peninsula, so it wasn't far from the sharp, fifty-foot cliff that abruptly ended the peninsula. Waves crashed on the sharp rocks at the bottom of the cliff. The lighthouse itself was old, probably older than the town it watched over. The only sign it had ever been painted were the last tiny pieces of paint that were flaking off. The top had walls of glass so the giant redstone bulb could shine over the bay. A small house had been built off to the side of the lighthouse, which was likely where Michael lived.
"Michael?! That you!?" An old man stepped out of the house. His face was creased with wrinkles and his joints were swollen with arthritis. He had a pipe clasped firmly in his teeth and a scraggly white beard. He leaned heavily on a cane and hobbled as he walked. "Who are these two! Are they spies!? I knew those blasted Bluecoats are still coming for me!" He waved his cane wildly and scowled at the two.
"Father, relax. They aren't spies, they're just here for work and a place to stay."
The old man scowled suspiciously at the two. "I don't buy it for ONE SECOND! They're spies!"
Michael sighed. "I apologize. This is my father, Albert. He fought in the Great War, so ignore him if he goes on long rants about it." He turned towards his father. "The war was almost fifty years ago; you can stop shouting about it!"
"NO!" Albert insisted, thumping his cane against the ground. "Those blasted Bluecoats are gonna come for me one of these days, then you'll—" he was interrupted by a fit of coughing. Michael sighed and walked over to his father. "Here, head back inside and rest. Remember what the doctor said."
"Bah. None of those doctors know what they're talking about," Albert muttered, but he hobbled back inside.
Michael sighed and turned back to the couple. "Bring your stuff inside, I'll show you where you'll be staying."
Steve and Alex nodded. Alex removed the mule's harnesses and Steve carried in the chests. The house was small and modestly furnished, with only a tiny kitchen, empty fireplace, and a couch with an exposed spring in the main room. There was a door and a staircase leading to a second floor. Michael led him to the first door, behind which was a storage room. "Sorry, there's a bed somewhere under this." Michael moved the boxes to one side, revealing a musty cot buried underneath the stuff. Steve set down the chest by the foot of the bed as Alex walked in.
"Y'all get yourselves nice an' comfy, and I'll see you two tomorrow. Got some stuff I gotta take care of in town. Don't mind my father, he's loud but he's harmless."
Steve nodded. "Thank you so much, sir. You really have no idea what you've done for us."
Michael smiled as he walked out. "You're welcome."