Aedmorn and Ivkarha tramped along the muddy central street of Edhest, the ground chewed up by the tread of many feet and hooves. Rough made log cabins were built about them, with a few larger, more sturdy buildings among them, servicing other needs besides that of simply housing. The hour was growing late, as the sun neared the horizon and long shadows were cast before it.

There were residents about, engaged in their labours. Almost all were men, for few women and children were to be seen. The arrival of the two brought many eyes to them, watching them, wary, suspicious.

“They seem not too thrilled to have visitors,” Ivkarha noted, returning the looks with a steely eyed gaze, causing some to turn away.

:”No, not at all. There are some who are no doubt hiding, and others who just wanted to escape. This is a good a place as any.”

Aedmorn lead them to the largest building in the township, one part built of stone and standing two stories in height. They could hear the sound of voices coming from inside, of raucous laughter, some of it female, and what appeared to be a lute being played. A pair of large men sat outside the entrance to it, one chewing on a lump of dried meat, the other dozing half asleep, leaning against the wall. The one awake set aside the meat on a plate and slowly stood up, gathering a stout wooden club as he did.

“What do you want?” he asked, words rumbling.

Ivkarha rattled a pouch at her side, coins rattling within. The man grunted and his stance eased a touch. “You can go in,” he told them, “But watch yourselves. Strangers aren't always welcome.”

“So we gather. We shall endeavour to cause no trouble.”

The man grunted again as they entered the establishment. The interior was a dark place, and the air thick with the smell of rotting rushes, sour ale and sweat. Crude benches and tables were set up around the room, and already there were many of the woodcutters and hunters within, drinking and carousing. A number of women dodged around among them, serving drinks and food, laughing at ribald jokes or slapping aside hands.

At the back of the room was a long bench set up on barrels, a one-eyed man standing behind it, polishing mugs with a stained cloth. Aedmorn and Ivkarha made their way through the room to him. He stared at them with his one eye suspiciously until Ivkarha set down two silver coins on the rough wooden surface of the bench. “Two of whatever that will get us,” she said.

The man’s suspicion turned to the coins as he picked them up, examining them closely, to make sure that they were indeed real, for they were worth far more than a standard drink. When at last he was satisfied, he slipped the coins away and reached down beneath the bench, retrieving a flask from which he poured two mugs of a clear golden liquid. “Here,” said he, “It is the best we have got.”

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“Much appreciated,” Aedmorn responded, taking the mug and raising it towards the man.

“We don’t get much call for strangers in these parts,” the man told them.

“I am Aedmorn, cruaith of the Green Goddess, and this is Ivkarha of the Ra-Armal,

Aedmorn told him. “See, we are strangers no more.”

The man looked back and forward between the two as they sipped at their drinks. After a while he gave a low laugh. “Fair enough, friends. What brings you here?”

“We were not planning too,” Aedmorn told him, “Until we had an encounter with the krithik.”

“The frogs? What were you doing in their swamps?”

“We were searching for something, but that matters not anymore. Instead they asked us to search for something for them; their shaman was murdered and an item of great value to them was stolen from him. They believe that it was someone from here that was responsible.”

“No one is fool enough to trouble the frogs,” Aedmorn was told.

“I have heard the name Asgyr spoken of.”

“Ah, that one. He might be crazed enough to try something.”

“And where might this Asgyr be?” Ivkarha asked.

“I have said enough.”

A small gold coin appeared on the bench top, gleaming bright even in the dark of the room. The man licked his lips and rested his hands over the coin, to cover it up. “Well, no harm in mentioning it, is there?”

“None at all,” Aedmorn agreed.

“He left town in a hurry a few days back. Headed west, to a campsite out that way, or so he said, for hunting. Rumours of a rare white crocodile had come in, and the hide of such a one would be worth much.”

“I see,” said Aedmorn, his one less than approving.

“I could arrange for a guide to take you that way,” the man continued. “It is hard to find if you do not know the place already. Of course, none would do for naught.”

“You find the man, and we shall see what he is worth,” Aedmorn told him. “In the meantime we will need lodgings for the night, and a meal as well.”

They were taken over to a table to be fed, served up with hard, not quite stale bread and a stew that was mostly made of tubers with a few small pieces of meat floating in it. Bland in flavour, it had nothing of the appeal of the meal that the krithik had provided earlier on, yet they ate it still for their was no other option to be had. They washed it down with ales that at least were of a better quality while around them the crowds grew, more men arriving to drink, the noise swelling, drowning out the music played by a man sitting in the corner on a stool strumming a lute.

When they were done, they retired to a chamber above, one with simple straw filled pallets for beds, covered with thin blankets. Worse they had slept on before, so they cast themselves down upon them, weapons kept close at hand, and surrendered themselves to sleep.