Elara nudged Del’s arm, her voice a low whisper. “Do you notice anything?”

He blinked, startled out of his reverie, and glanced at her. “Sorry, I was miles away. What have you noticed?”

“Look at the people,” she replied cryptically, her words pulling his attention back to the bustling streets around them.

Her observation drew him out of his daydreams, the warm ambience of the village dissolving as he forced himself to focus. At first, the activity around them seemed perfectly normal—villagers going about their daily routines, chatting and laughing in the sunlit square. But as Del began to pay closer attention, subtle details surfaced.

Some of the locals barely spared them a glance, continuing their work without interruption. Others, however, cast curious looks their way, the kind reserved for strangers passing through a tight-knit community. Most of these glances were harmless, though there was an occasional edge of suspicion in their eyes. And then there were the hostile ones—brief but unmistakable glares that prickled at the edges of Del’s awareness.

Del’s stomach tightened as he noticed a pattern. The individuals who regarded them with hostility didn’t linger. Their gazes darted away as quickly as they appeared, and more than once, he saw them slip into narrow streets or disappear behind buildings.

He leaned closer to Elara, lowering his voice. “Well, Elara, I guess we stay friendly and stay on our toes. I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough if something’s going on.”

She gave a small nod, her expression serious. “They don’t seem used to elves,” she murmured, her tone tinged with a faint unease.

‘Or,’ Del thought, feeling a flicker of trepidation, ‘word of the wizard’s bounty has reached here too.’ The possibility sent a shiver up his spine.

The central square opened up before them, bustling with life. On one side, a collection of carts and stalls stood under colourful awnings, each one offering an assortment of goods. A butcher proudly displayed an array of fresh cuts alongside a fishmonger whose wares dwarfed the river catch Misty had delivered earlier. Nearby, a baker’s stall was piled high with golden loaves and pastries that glistened in the sunlight. The scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the saltiness of fish and the distinct smell of blood, creating a heady mix that hung heavy in the spring air.

Other stalls showcased household items—brooms, pots, and tools that gleamed from careful polishing. The cheerful shouts of vendors calling out their wares blended with the hum of conversation, the occasional laughter of children, and the rustle of cloth as customers piled goods into bags.

Behind the market stalls loomed a large building, its heavy double doors flanked by a wrought iron gate. The structure exuded an imposing air, as though its presence demanded respect. The villagers passing by it cast quick, deferential glances toward it before hurrying on their way.

At the far end of the square stood a taller stone building, three storeys high and unmistakably one of the largest in the village. Its sign, painted with an image of a colourful bird bound to a heavy iron ball, swung gently in the breeze. The faded lettering beneath it declared the name: The Cock and Ball.

Del pushed the door open, and the interior welcomed them with warmth and light. Despite the pleasant day outside, a large open hearth blazed cheerfully against one wall, its heat radiating across the room. The wooden floor was scattered with sawdust and straw, and a faint aroma of ale and stew hung in the air. Tables and chairs were scattered throughout, mostly unoccupied at this time of day. A few patrons sat in quiet conversation, their voices low and indistinct.

Behind the bar stood a broad-shouldered man, his sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that hinted at years of hard work. He was wiping down the bar with a practised ease, and as they entered, he looked up, his face breaking into a polite smile.

“Afternoon, miss, sir,” he greeted. “Welcome to the Cock and Ball. How can I help you?”

Del returned the smile. “You must be Jake. Merl sent us your way—said you might be able to help us freshen up and get something to eat.”

Jake’s smile broadened, his features lighting up with good-natured humour. “He would do at that,” he chuckled. “And he’s not wrong. I can get you food, and a bath if you’re needing it. If it’s just a wash-up, there’s a trough out back to take the road off your face and hands.”

Elara, who had been quiet beside Del, suddenly brightened, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “I could so manage a hot bath,” she said, her voice practically bouncing with excitement.

Jake grinned at her enthusiasm. “Bath’s two copper—or three for hot. Plus a copper for the boy.” He had barely finished speaking when Elara produced four coins from her pouch and dropped them on the bar with a satisfied smile.

Jake’s hand swept the coins into his palm with an ease that spoke of long practice. With a sharp whistle, he called out, and a moment later, a lanky boy emerged from a doorway at the far end of the bar. The lad looked to be in his early teens, his face marked by the awkwardness of adolescence. His skin bore the familiar signs of acne, and his shoulders were slightly hunched, as though he were trying to make himself smaller.

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“Hot bath, son,” Jake said, jerking his head toward the stairs. “Room two’s free.”

The boy nodded briskly. “Follow me,” he said, his voice cracking slightly as he addressed Elara. She beamed at him and followed eagerly, leaving Del standing by the bar.

Jake leaned back against the counter, his gaze flicking toward the stairs where Elara had disappeared. “She seems keen,” he remarked with a faint grin.

“She’s had a rough few days,” Del replied. “We both have.”

“You missed lunchtime,” Jake said as he wiped his hands on a towel slung over his shoulder. “Dinner’s at dusk, but I can rustle you up some bread and cheese in the meantime.”

“That would be very welcome,” Del replied with a tired smile. “And a mug of ale too, if you could.” He paused, stretching his arms as if to shake off the weariness of the road. “Meanwhile, I’ll just use your facilities and freshen up a bit.”

Jake grinned. “Latrine’s out back, by the fence—can’t miss it if you’ve got a nose,” he added with a chuckle.

Del simply nodded, heading through the back door. Outside, the air was cooler, and the faint smell of damp earth mingled with the sharp, unmistakable odour Jake had warned about. He found the trough easily enough, its surface rippling slightly in the breeze. Kneeling, he splashed water over his face and hands, scrubbing away the grime of travel. The coolness was invigorating, and as he stood, he felt a little more human. After attending to the other matter, he returned inside, feeling lighter, if still watchful.

As Del stepped back into the tavern, the low hum of conversation greeted him. Two men sat at a nearby table, their voices quiet but carrying just enough for him to catch a word that froze him mid-step: wizard.

The men glanced up as he entered, their conversation halting abruptly. Their eyes lingered on him for a moment too long before one of them pushed his chair back with a scrape and strode toward the door, his heavy boots thudding against the wooden floor. Del tracked his movements, unease prickling at the back of his neck.

‘Didn’t I say I wanted uncomplicated?’ Del thought, his lips tightening as he crossed to the bar. Jake handed him a plate and a mug, and he carried them to a table against the wall. Sitting down, he placed his back to the solid wood and positioned himself with a clear view of the stairs and the entrance.

‘Paranoid, Del,’ he chastised himself as he took a bite of bread. The warm, nutty flavour was satisfying, and the butter spread generously over it melted into rich decadence. The cheese was sharp and crumbly, a perfect contrast. Washing it down with a gulp of ale, he sighed. ‘Better paranoid than dead—or worse.’

The tavern was pleasant, he had to admit. Its warm, rustic charm and the quiet bustle of life outside gave it an inviting air, the kind of place where you might let your guard down. But Del couldn’t afford to relax completely. He noted the absence of the man who had left the table earlier.

‘Of course,’ he muttered internally, loosening the knife at his hip. The blade rested reassuringly within easy reach. The ale, though, was another matter entirely—refreshing with a bright citrus note that lingered pleasantly on his tongue. For a moment, he allowed himself to savour it, the fleeting thought crossing his mind that it would be so easy to forget the weight of the world and simply enjoy the peace.

Elara’s arrival snapped him out of his reverie. She descended the stairs with a contented smile, her damp hair curling slightly as it framed her face. Her skin glowed, fresh from the bath, and her step seemed lighter.

“I needed that,” she said, settling into the chair across from him. Jake appeared moments later, setting down another plate of bread and cheese along with a mug of ale for her. He lingered for a moment, glancing around the room before sliding onto the bench beside them.

“Planning to stay long?” he asked, his tone friendly but with an undercurrent of caution.

“Just a night or two,” Del replied, watching Jake’s expression carefully.

The barkeep nodded, leaning forward slightly. “I can put you up for a night, maybe two, but that’s it. Folk around here can get… leery about strangers. And begging pardon, miss,” he added, glancing at Elara, “but some here still hold grudges against your kind.”

Elara’s expression softened, and she gave him a warm smile, her voice kind. “Thank you for the warning, Jake. It’s appreciated.”

Jake shrugged, his gaze steady. “I’ve got no quarrel with any kind of folk. But some people here… Well, they don’t let go of old grudges easily.”

“Noted,” Del said. “Thanks for your honesty.” He passed Jake a tin coin. “Food and board for two days, possibly three. Keep the rest for your trouble—and your candour.”

Jake pocketed the coin with a nod, his smile returning. “Room two’s already yours,” he said. “I’ll have the boy make it up for you. Dinner’s at dusk.”

As they finished their refreshments, Del stood, carrying their empty plates and mugs back to the bar. “Thanks, Jake,” he said. “We’re looking for someone called Vita. Can you point us in the right direction?”

“Old Vita?” Jake raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Head out the south gate and cross the river at the bridge. Follow the path for about five minutes, and you’ll see her cottage among the trees.”

Del nodded his thanks, and the pair stepped back into the village streets. The activity had begun to ebb slightly as the afternoon wore on, though the occasional glance—some curious, others less so—still followed them. Del caught sight of a particularly sharp glare and shook his head.

‘Nothing queer as folk,’ he thought wryly.

As they passed through the gate and back into the outskirts, Misty reappeared, weaving her way through the grass to join them. Del felt her familiar mental presence brush against his thoughts. ‘Is everything all right?’ he asked, his question tinged with the faintest flicker of concern.

Her response was unexpected—a jumble of emotions, images, and impressions that seemed disjointed at first. Confusion, wariness, flashes of faces, and the shifting energy of the village crowded his mind. Then, clearer than before, came something unmistakable: ‘Confusing place. Good, bad, both.’

Del stopped abruptly, nearly tripping over his own feet. He stared down at Misty, his eyes wide with shock. Elara stopped too, looking at him in alarm.

“What’s wrong, Del?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

He shook his head, a mixture of wonder and disbelief spreading across his face. His lips twitched into a faint smile as he glanced between Misty and Elara.

“Nothing, lass,” he said, his voice tinged with humour. “It’s just… my damn cat just spoke to me.”