The human sits in his corner booth, letting the rumble of conversation permeate his mind as pens another letter to his mother. It was intriguing as well as annoying how her couriers always managed to find him, no matter where he traveled or how far he was from her estate. Not even his superiors knew where he was at the time, but this journey hardly pertained to their study. The pub door slams and the human raises his head to watch as another traveler walks in with a member of the city guard. They sit down at a table not fair from his, and the human picks up some of the girl's accent. The northern surprises him, considering she must have come a much longer distance than he to reach this town. He signs his name at the bottom of the letter and steps out of his booth and over to the table where the girl is sitting, now drinking a mug of some alcohol, no doubt. He extends his hand to the woman, trying to give an air of geniality. "Hello there, I'm Alan Sorkin. Are you from the northern states?"
Fieke, who was in the middle of taking another sip of her beer, nearly did a spit take. She wiped her mouth, before facing the newcomer. "Ya, I have come from the north." No point hiding it now.
Benjamin, travelling the road, notices the lady having some troubles. "Excuse me, madame? Do you need help? Maybe a little water perhaps?" He offers with a smile, clad in his armour, he's taken off his helmet for the road.
Alan lowers his hand, seeing as it wasn't likely the woman would take it. "I've been up in the north a couple times for my research. The diversity there of the land and lifestyles is something I've always admired. Tell me, what village are you from?" In his mind he tries to recall more facts about the northern nations, and find out why exactly one like her would be so far south.
{ Dezin proceeds to eat his stew } { He thinks to himself } " Hopefully the commander wont find me here, or he'll have my head... "
Miratha jumps a little as she was lost in thought of complaints. She turns to take a look at whom the voice came from. Miratha smiles brightly as she could, weakness easily seen in her face. "G'day to ya! Why, das mighty kind o' ya. I'll gladly take a swig o water. Can't see how ye folk can stand dis 'er 'eat."
Fieke gave a chuckle. "Village? No no, I'm not from a small village." So much attention today; the free beer was nice, but the questions...
He frowns at the mention of of her noting being from the villages. "Oh, so you're from Fischteich, then. I haven't had the pleasure of visiting the place myself." Yet the stories of that I've heard about their ruler are none to pleasing. Not all Hylotl can be kindly, after all. Alan suddenly looks shocked and slaps a palm across his forehead. "But where are my manners? I'm asking you all of this personal information and I haven't even asked for your name."
"Fieke Schmidt." Smirking to herself, as she took another sip of her beer, she thought of way she could mess with this guy. What stories he might have heard where potentially fabricated; there was grand tradition of boastful storytelling in her homeland.
Alan blows slightly in the direction of Fieke. "It was lovely talking to you miss Schmidt. But I think I've taken you from your companion for too long now. If you plan on staying in town for a little while, perhaps we can meet again." Nodding to the guard nursing his soup, Alan leaves the inn and walks out into the morning sun. Air fills his lungs and the fresh spring breeze told Alan it would be a good day. Taking a sweeping glance at the area, Alan walks down the path leading to the castle, it's spires piercing the sky in the distance. I'll have to remember you, Fieke Schmidt. For some reason I don't believe someone from Fischteich would be here just for the weather.
Downing the rest of the beer in one final draught. "Good thing that trottel finally wandered off, his prattle was getting aggravating."
"Should be good for the moment. Danke on the offer though." Standing up from the table, Fieke walked to the bartender, "Mein herr, I understand you have rooms available? I would like to reserve one."
" Well I truly must go miss Schmidt, I hope you have a good day. " { He goes and drops a small bag of coins in the barkeeps hand } " And I hope the commander didn't notice my absence.... " { He quickly leaves the room, he rushes back to his duties }
Shortly after Delzin returns to his post at the wall, he hears the telltale clank of a guard's armor and bootsteps as another soldier of the Crown approaches him. If he were to turn around, he'd recognize the man as Frederick Martz, one of his peers, known for his strong morality as well as lack of foresight. "Delzin Einstraad," the man begins reluctantly, "the commander wants to see you."
