The men's voices faded as the tavern door fell shut. Cyrus picked at his food, no longer having an appetite. Sighing, he pushed the plate away, and tossed an extra copper on the table, before slipping through the doorway. A dim corridor led him to the bedrooms the barmaid mentioned.
He pushed open the door to the first room for Berrodin, then slipped into the next one. After closing the door, Cyrus lit the lantern hung from the wall, and scanned the room. Moonlight streamed through the window, gracing the single straw cot with a silver curtain. Both the nightstand and wardrobe were made from redwood, and a writing desk lined the wall beneath the window.
'For five copper a night, this isn't so bad,' Cyrus thought. He tossed his cloak onto the desk, then slid the heavy latch beam behind the door. From there, he retired to the straw cot, and tucked his coin purse beneath the sack pillow.
The cot crinkled as he laid back, allowing his body to sink into the straw. He retrieved his amulet, brushing the tree as the moonlight reflected off the bronze. His fingers tingled from the cool metal.
'I'll need to search the city for a scholar tomorrow. Hopefully someone will know more about this,' Cyrus thought. He sighed, dropping the amulet back to his chest, and glanced out the window. Thick white clouds drifted through the night sky, their depths outlined by the brilliant radiance of the moon.
Beyond, the night sky sparkled as the stars flickered amidst the sea of black. Cyrus watched them until his eyes drifted shut, and he fell into a slumber.
…
The following morning, Cyrus threw on his cloak, before heading out of his room. As he passed down the hallway, he noticed the door to Berrodin's room was shut. A rhythmic snoring rumbled from the other side.
'Looks like he made it after all. I'll have to see him before he leaves,' Cyrus thought. He continued down the corridor, but as he passed through the tavern, the barmaiden from the night before rushed over to him.
"Hold on, hold on. I have something for you." The barmaiden dropped five of the copper coins he had given her back into his hand. "Here. It's for the second room you paid for last night. The man you spoke of never showed up, so we ended up giving the room to someone else."
"Oh?" Cyrus frowned. "Thanks for letting me know."
"Of course. I hope you'll come back here again." The barmaiden smiled, before returning to cleaning the tables.
A heavy fog blanketed the streets as Cyrus emerged from the tavern, tugging his cloak tighter. His breath puffed from his lips as he stopped on the stoop, and shook off the remnants of sleep. Behind him, the door snapped shut as someone slipped past, muttering their apologies.
Cyrus gave a slight nod, and stepped onto the street, making his way towards the center of Galeden. As he walked, the city came to life, clattering as doors and windows swung open, releasing the aroma of fresh eggs and porridge, while the morning calls echoed as the citizens began their preparations for the day.
'Perhaps Berrodin is at the alchemists,' Cyrus thought, retracing his steps from the day before.
As he neared the alchemy shop, he noticed a crowd blocking the street forward, packed shoulder to shoulder just outside the shop's doors. Their backs were tense as they stood in eerie silence. 'What are they doing?'
He frowned, and scooted along the cobblestone wall, peeking through the crowd as he pushed towards the other side. A pale man in a black robe stood just before the alchemy shop's shut doors, his wild hazel eyes bouncing beneath his thick arched brow. The windows to the shop were shut tight, and the sign creaked in the wind.
Cyrus flinched as the man threw his arms into the air, his narrow cheeks flushing bright red as he parted his wire thin lips.
"People of Galeden, I trust you've all come here after hearing the strange rumors regarding the stone plague, brought forth by dark magic. However, I fear no potion or poison will cure you. The alchemist spread nothing but lies and false hope! They hand you nothing more than sweet water, while they pick from your purses!"
The man shook his fists, one of which clenched tightly around a silver pendant, shaped in the form of a withered rose wrapped around a cracked sword. An amethyst was nestled into the swords pommel. "Well no more! I come from the temples of Dilthane with a true cure! One which rid you of the plague, if only you believe! Rejoice, for such a cure doesn't even cost a copper! Do you wish to learn more?"
As the crowd erupted into a fury, the man's sharp gaze flicked to Cyrus, and a flicker of recognition passed through them. A chill ran through Cyrus, and he lowered his head as he hurried onwards, his pace brisk until the noise faded into the calls of the market. There, the citizens of Galeden filled the street, their coin purses snapping open and closed as they bustled between the wooden stalls and open shops in the early morning.
Choosing to forget the priest, Cyrus found himself swept in by the flow of people, his mouth watering from the sweet scents in the air, while the odd trinket here and there caught his eye. Nearby, a group of men gathered around a merchant selling hammers and nails, their voices hushed as they discussed different projects. Occasionally, they'd glance over their shoulders as their wives and daughters picked through the stalls and shops ladened with cloth. With sleek and time trained fingers, they tested the wool, and examined the silk.
'Gods above. Where do I even start?' Cyrus wondered. He stepped to the side as a group of children darted past, chasing a leather ball.