The tavern was quiet tonight.

I ordered an ale and a broth and I waited.

Whisperings took place, ones that others weren't supposed to hear.

With my ears trained, I heard them all.

Killings in the South.

Bandits on the coast west of here.

Mercenaries took up work as bodyguards for caravans taking on roads that were once safe.

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The land smelled of blood.

What had happened?

Rebellion in the North one man whispered to another. He was a big, burly man with a smock, dirtied and bloodied. The man next to him was a gypsy with the build of one who was accustomed to going without a meal. They were the only ones that stood out in a room full of faces.

Taking it all in, my options were limited.

No one from my past had appeared in the three days I stayed in the tavern.

The whisperings were all pointing North.

That the next big world event would be there.

Downing my ale, I had made up my mind.

In the morning I would join a group traveling North.