Illusion of Safety // DreamNotFound

Chapter 4

     George was finally able to take a bath of his own around morning, when the innkeeper brought buckets of warm water to refill the tub. Scraping the dirt from his skin was a kind of bliss he was usually too privileged to experience. Unfortunately, Ashhedge's rains were enough to turn even the toughest of soil into mud, which meant there was quite a bit to work with.

     He wasn't very happy to have to put on the same clothes for the third day in a row, but at least he knew he wouldn't smell, and the hot water eased his sore muscles. When he left the bathroom, Clay had returned to his cloak, and was staring wistfully out the window. "Come on," George sighed. "There's breakfast downstairs."

     "Could you bring me some," the blonde asked, barely glancing back at him. "I can't take my mask off down there."

     The trader agreed, although he was a bit disgruntled about having to carry an extra plate. The innkeeper was a nice-enough woman, and was happy to prepare a second portion for his friend. George knew better, but part of him wanted to correct her about the friend thing. They had a mutual agreement, that was the extent.

     An idea came to mind, and the brunette decided he wanted to sit at a table to eat. It definitely wasn't because he wanted to wait until Clay's food was cold as payback for making him sleep on the ground. The meal was simple, so it wouldn't ruin it anyway. A bread roll and two scrambled eggs, enough to fill your stomach at a low price.

     "So, George," the innkeeper started once she'd served all her guests. "Where you headed after this?"

     The trader thought of the quickest route to the border as he swallowed a bite. "Indus, most likely," he mumbled. She raised an eyebrow, and George was reminded of the lie he'd told the night before. "I've arranged a really good deal for one of my items down there, and I've decided to put off my trip to Aster for it."

     "I see," she hummed, though he guessed she was still skeptical. He really wished he wasn't forced to make up a story first thing in the morning, but he couldn't leave yet. "Where's your buddy?"

     "Still asleep," George said, happy to answer the simpler questions. "I'm grabbing him some breakfast and then we'll be out of your hair."

     She didn't say anything else, content to give a nod as she buzzed to another table. The sun was barely overhead, and yet he could already tell it'd be a long day. He'd just finished his last egg when three slow knocks sounded on the inn's door.

     George wiped his hands on his napkin, hardly paying attention. He was about ready to head back to their room, Clay's plate in hand, the food now cold. However, when the innkeeper opened the door, he noticed how the smile fell from her face. Four men shoved in, their presence commanding attention.

     Armed to the teeth, these guys were obviously nothing to mess with, but that wasn't the most eye-catching part of them. Engraved on their chest pieces was the royal crest. George nearly dropped his plate.

     "We're looking for two very dangerous men," the tallest of the bunch started. The trader choked, attracting his attention. The group approached with confident steps, causing George to shrink back. "You look like a trustworthy fellow. Say, would you know where we could find a couple of outlaws?"

     The brunette studied the man, trying to find any insight on his personality. He was strawberry blonde, with eyes a piercing blue. His stature was tall, intimidating, and strong. His armor was thoroughly shined, and the royal crest burned into his brain. Everything about him told George that this was not someone to be messed with.

     Slowly, the trader got to his feet, though it didn't help the height problem much. He'd set Clay's plate on the table, except for a singular bread roll, which he slipped into his pack. All of his movements were tracked by those cold, blue eyes.