'Is alchemy a popular cure here?' Cyrus wondered. He stepped back as a short man shuffled towards him, holding his arm. As they passed one another, the man lowered his bloodshot eyes, and mumbled an apology beneath his breath.
Cyrus hurried on his way, his blood running cold. His boots tapped against the cobblestones as he rounded a corner, and leaned against the wall. 'Has the dark magic already affected Galeden? I hope Berrodin will be alright.'
Cyrus took a deep breath, and shook his head. By now, the sun was starting to fall behind the mountains, throwing the city into their shadows. As a cool gust swept between the buildings, he pushed off the wall, and pulled his cloak tight.
Another three hours passed before he finally stumbled across the tavern Berrodin spoke of. By now, most of the kingdom was lit by candles, and people were beginning to head home. A growl rumbled from Cyrus's stomach as he pushed open the tavern's door, and took in the fresh aroma of bread and beef.
As Cyrus wedged his way through the crowd of drunkards, he scanned the room. The skulls of wild beasts were mounted to the wall, their empty sockets lit by iron lanterns forged in the shape of antlers.
'It seems Berrodin hasn't made it yet,' Cyrus thought, squeezing his way up to the counter. A rather tall man stood behind it, his thin face red as he scrubbed at a particularly sticky spot on the wood. Despite his slim figure, he leaned into his work, polishing away until the spot faded. With a slight nod, the man straightened his back, and turned to Cyrus.
"Sorry about that. Someone spilled a mug earlier, and the spot has been bothering me ever since. Now then, what can I do for you?" The bartender asked, tucking the dirty rag into his waistband. He stood a good head taller than Cyrus, and watched him with a half arched brow.
"I was hoping for something warm to eat, and a drink," Cyrus said. He glanced around before pointing towards an empty booth near the fireplace. "I'll be over there."
The man nodded. "That'll be two copper."
Cyrus retrieved the coin, and slid it across the counter. The bartender picked them up, and studied them for a moment before dropping them into the pouch at his side with a clink.
"Very good. I'll have them bring your food to you in a moment."
Cyrus made his way to the table and slipped into a seat with the fire behind him. Outside, the street lanterns flickered to life as they were lit one by one. Beneath the orange glow, the street took on a welcoming appearance, as the last few wanderers called out to one another.
While Cyrus waited for his food, he noticed a group of men situated near the door. They dressed in worn tunics, and spoke with hushed voices, though he still caught a wisp of what they said.
"Has there still been no word from Heldren? I thought he was supposed to arrive two days ago." A young man spoke first, appearing not much older than sixteen. His eyes darted between two older men, and his leg bounced beneath the table. "Could he have gotten lost? Or maybe bandits."
"Enough," One of the older men snapped. He scowled. "Heldren wouldn't have gotten lost, and most thieves would avoid such a large convoy. I'm certain he'll be here soon."
"But Ersen has a point, Felron. Heldren said he'd stop in Mourtop, and then be here before the end of the week, and that was the last we heard. If he was hung up by something, he would have sent word, but there's been nothing. With the strange things we've heard, I'm beginning to worry."
"I- I know," The old man said, sighing. "It's unlike Heldren to be this late, but it's not like an entire caravan could just go missing. Not in these parts anyway."
The men's conversation moved on, and Cyrus leaned back in his seat. A sense of dread washed over him as he considered the possibilities. 'Perhaps they ran into a beast similar to the boars. If that's true, then what else might be out there?'
Cyrus shivered at the thought.
"Are you alright?"
Cyrus jumped as the barmaid appeared beside him, carrying a plate of brisket and rolls glazed in honey, along with a foaming mug. Locks of auburn hair slipped over her shoulder as she set the platter down while glancing at him from the corner of her eye.
Cyrus gave a sheepish smile, and relaxed his shoulders. "Yes… Yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
"You looked a bit tense, is all," she said, hugging the platter. She brushed the hair away from her face, and smiled. "Well, let me know if there is anything else I can get for you."
The woman turned to leave, but Cyrus caught her arm.
"Wait, do you have any rooms available?" Cyrus asked. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Two if possible, but something preferably cheap, and they only need to have a single cot."
The barmaid pursed her lips with a furrowed brow. "Hmm, I believe there are still a few rooms left. Though the cheapest will cost you five bronze a night. Will that be alright?"
"It will." Cyrus handed her the coin, and she motioned towards a door across the tavern.
"Head through there once you're done for the night, and take the two rooms on the far left. I'll let the barkeep know they're occupied."
"Thank you," Cyrus said,passing her an extra copper.
The barmaid curtsied with a smile, and headed back to the counter. Cyrus pocketed the remaining ten coppers, then grabbed a fork, and dug into the brisket. The warm meat melted in his mouth, and possessed a far tastier texture than the dried jerky, and hard bread he ate the past three nights.
While he ate, he noticed the men heading out. As they left, Cyrus overheard the one named Felron again.
"I want you to send some men to Mourtop. Find out if Heldren has arrived yet, and what's taking him so long."
"And if he hasn't? What will we do?"
Felron pushed open the door, causing the fire to stir. "I suppose we'll have to continue on our way. We can't stay here forever, and Heldren knows this. I'm certain he'll figure it out when arrives, and finds us gone."