It was still a few days worth of travel away, but Myron could picture the walls of Kelshir in his head.

It had been roughly two hex years since he had visited. Barely more than a child then, Myron recalled finding the journey delightful. Getting to visit the castle the knights of the Aetheric Order were based out of, having dinner with Lord Kelshir and his family, it all had seemed so wonderful to a young boy with noble aspirations.

Much had changed such then, including him.

"That's the village, there," Nela said, pointing ahead. "What was it called again?"

"Verdan," Myron answered. If there was anything representative of how much he had changed, it was the Elefae by his side. These days, he could not picture life without her there. Though sarcastic and occasionally rude, he could count on Nela to support him. And given the direction events had taken a month ago, he needed that more than ever.

That direction...well, that had more to do with his sister than him or Nela. Standing a short distance further back down the road, Edeline was in a quiet animated conversation with their other companion, Hamond. It was probably another conversation about spells and the like. Myron was not about to pretend he really understood the details of their talks, which had grown more and more frequent as they had traveled.

He was fine leaving them to it, at least for now. There would eventually come a time when they would be pursued, and Myron knew they would need all their focus and energy to stay alive. Thankfully, that day had not come yet.

But it would come soon. Myron was certain of it.

"...but if you could use the first spell to call the energy, then the second spell can make use of that energy and be more powerful," Edeline was saying.

"I've never heard of that," Hamond countered, "I'm sure someone would have already thought to try it too."

"You told me a hexday ago that most thaumaturges like to keep their secrets," Edeline stated, "Why would this be any-"

"You two might want to cut the spell talk," Nela interrupted, gesturing at the village before them.

"Of course," Hamond said smoothly. The look on the Remuati man's face told Myron that that little debate wasn't over. Still, it was ultimately good natured, as far as Myron could tell.

"So we can finally restock?" Edeline let out a shaky sigh. "About time."

"Tomorrow, yes," Myron said gently, eyeing the setting sun. Tracking down a farmer willing to strike a deal with some random travelers was far from simple. They'd been very lucky, being able to buy fresh food twice so far.

The bigger problem was coin, or rather a lack thereof. They had carried as much as they could, but it was not unlimited. While they probably could haggle this time, the pikers they had would not take them much farther. At some point while they were in Kelshir, they would have to find a way to earn more, somehow.

But that was a problem for then. Tonight Myron just wanted to see if there was a tavern here in Verdan, get some drinks, and possibly find a room for them. As much he was used to sleeping outside, it wasn't exactly comfortable. And he was probably the most tolerant among the four of them. Edeline in particular had been very grumpy more than one morning.

"Are those men bearing swords?" Hamond asked.

Turning, Myron was surprised to find Hamond was right. There were three men in dirty tunics, each with a sheathed sword at their side. More importantly, the men had seen the four of them, and were approaching.

Reminded of the men that had mutinied against him back in Hallowscroft - an unpleasant memory - Myron rested one hand on the hilt of his own blade. Too soon to draw it, yes, but he could hardly assume they were peaceable folk. That was a sure path to end up run through. Better to show them in turn that he was willing to defend himself.

With a swagger, one of the men stepped out in front. "Three hex pikers. Going to have to ask you to pay up. Lord Verdan's tax, you know."

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Doubtful, Myron just stared the man down. A village of this small size, this close to a city as large as Kelshir, would fall under the domain of one or more aldermen instead of a lord. And even if the king had appointed a lord for such a small village, he certainly would not be employing men like these to handle tax matters.

Bandits were the more likely answer, but Myron didn't want to assume that just yet. Not without speaking to someone with authority here, which these men didn't possess.

"Who exactly is this Lord Verdan?" Myron asked.

"Someone who's a better man than you." The man drew his sword. "Now, you may be thinking about choosing to not give us those pikers. That's not how this works. We're going to walk away from here with that coin. What you get to choose is if you're still living after we walk away."

Biting back a retort about how the man was holding his sword the wrong way, Myron settled for just drawing his own blade. Why it was that people kept insisting on not listening to reason, he couldn't say. He supposed now was not the time to dwell on it. From behind him, he heard Edeline also pull her sword out.

The men all took steps back, exchanging looks. "Uh, should we-" one of the men, looking suddenly nervous, started to say.

"Shut up," the leader shot back, then turned back to face Myron. "You really think you can challenge Lord Verdan?"

"We are not challenging your so-called lord," Edeline spoke up, "We are challenging you three."

Before the man could respond, one of his fellows fled, followed by the other.

"You cowards! Get your arses back here!" The one man hesitated for a moment. Fear apparently won out over loyalty, as he took off running as well, sword still in hand.

While Myron could tell they weren't in any way trained soldiers or guards, he had not expected them to flee without a fight. He supposed it was better that it hadn't ended with bloodshed, but the possibility .

"Are we sure we want to stay the night here?" Hamond asked. "We may well have made an enemy of that man, and this lord."

"There's no Lord Verdan," Edeline told him, echoing Myron's earlier thoughts. "I am fairly certain I recall all of the lesser lords under Lord Kelshir."

"Could have just picked himself a new one," Nela said.

"That's possible." Myron took a moment to consider. "It's too late to make it far from here before night falls. So we'll stay in Verdan, but we'll have to continue taking turns stand watch."

The look on Edeline's face told him exactly what she thought of this idea. He couldn't blame his sister, since he had promised her a bed and a roof once they arrived at Kelshir. While he could claim they weren't quite there yet, he knew pulling back on the promise that had helped motivate her to push through was a bad idea.

"You can just sleep," Myron hastily said.

Edeline took a deep breath. "I will be fine."

Myron disagreed, but knew better than to force an argument. Given she was tired, it wouldn't end well. Aether, he was tired too. So were the others, in all likelihood.

Entering the village proper, Myron quickly took note of how run-down many of the buildings were. There was no hiding that Verdan was poor, poorer than any similar village that he could recall. The men and women who moved past all wore ragged clothes, faces a mix of stoic and exhausted.

Myron had the feeling there wouldn't be a room for them here after all. In fact, he couldn't even be certain now if they even had a tavern. Taverns needed travelers, and travelers spent coin - coin that clearly wasn't present in Verdan. And with men like those going around and all but robbing people, it was not hard to see why.

It would not harm anything to ask, though. "Excuse me," Myron said, hailing an older man walking by. "Could you direct us to the tavern?"

The aged man shot Myron a venomous glare, then kept on walking without a word.

"Don't mind him," a chipper voice said, "A lot of people around here just don't like elves."

Myron turned to see a balding man with a stout build standing there with a cheery smile. It was a little strange, comparing him to the grim faces of the other villagers. Then again, he supposed that some people were able to keep their spirits up in the worst of times.

Still, he was going to be cautious. "Who are you?"

"Alderman Hudde, at your service." The man gave a slight bow. "If you're looking for the tavern, it's around that corner, to the right. You'll know it when you see it."

"What's the deal with this Lord Verdan?" Nela blurted out. Myron winced. He loved Nela, but there were times when he wished she had a little more tact.

The alderman did not seem fazed. "You met his men, I see. Rest assured I am well aware of it, and the situation will be under control. In fact, I do have some business to attend to related to that matter, so if you'll excuse me, I must be on my way."

With that, Hudde hurried off past them.

"I think he knows something," Nela remarked.

"If he does, he now knows you suspect him," Hamond replied.

Nela stopped instantly. "Shit. I should have kept my mouth shut."

"Let's just get to the tavern." The fatigue was really starting to set in, Myron realized as he tried and failed to hold in a yawn. Food and drink in their bellies would help, at least a little.

The tavern was in as much of a poor condition as any of the other buildings in the village. The sign hung loose on one rope from a post, the other having broken off at some point. "The Mug Dog," Hamond read out loud, studying the place. "How very clever."

"Are we sure we want to go into this place?" Nela said.

"It's probably not that bad. I've been into places like this one before." Myron had to wonder why and how Hamond had that familiarity, then stopped as he realized the answer. Best not to bring that up. "It's better than going thirsty."

That, Myron could not argue with. He stepped forward, and opened the door.