Standing before the large stone arch that reached for the sky as though it were once a part of a castle for God, Alvery grimaced.

He stared up at the impressive structure that towered over the rooftops behind it, then at the low walls that bordered the painfully picturesque town known as Aniselle in the kingdom of Vidaz.

Wearing brown britches already covered in weeks worth of dust from traveling, a rumpled white shirt pushed up to his elbows, and a vest that hung open to reveal a protruding gut; he was the personification of the word ‘unimpressive’.

With a nervous glance over his shoulder, he strode into the town where cheery neighborly calls of ‘Good day’, and ‘Glen, how’s the missus?’ seemed to echo from around every corner and from under every stoop.

Sidling down the nearest winding cobbled street to his left, Alvery proceeded to pass by tall stone houses with pointed peaks, some with thatched roofs, others tiled.

While perhaps each home varied in small details depending on the income of each owner, the commonality between them that helped bridge the small discrepancies were flower boxes that were all overflowing and well tended. Usually they were color coordinated with their house’s front doors. One house with a bright red door sported matching hydrangeas, a sunny yellow door was paired with marigolds, a pale blue door had a box stuffed full of lobelias…

Yes, Aniselle was what young romantics dreamed of when thinking of a small town life.

Alvery only hoped it didn’t follow the stereotypical response to strangers in the form of unyielding interest, and countless eyes watching his every move.

He rounded a quieter bend of the town, and noted a couple of soot covered children playing a game involving a perplexing mix of sticks, rocks, and milk bottle caps.

The youths all stopped their fun as he passed and openly gaped as he strode by.

He hunched his shoulders and felt a new ache in his being appear. From stress or poor physical health, he wasn’t certain.

Surely the inn is somewhere off the main streets…

Alvery speculated this with no small mix of anxiety, anguish, and weakened self assurance.

Then passed two older women with their black lace caps and brass binoculars clasped in their hands, their short heel button up boots clacking leisurely against the cobblestones. Upon laying eyes on him however, the two immediately began to whisper to each other behind raised hands.

Gripping the handle of the bulging leather briefcase at his side, Alvery continued on. The tops of his thighs began to burn, letting him know he was starting to follow a slight incline of the street.

He wished for his former days of fitness. He’d never been the epitome of health, but not being winded by small changes of the terrain was a lost strength he had noticed more and more as his activity levels had sunk.

Despite numerous brightly painted signs with gold, black, and silver lettering, Alvery failed to find any of them advertising themselves as a tavern or inn.

Cursing softly, he took the next right, and that was when it began.

That funny feeling of someone watching him.

He hesitated only a second, fear trickling down his stomach and making him glance briefly side to side before resuming his journey. He half expected to see the damned Gestov brood again…

At long last, a chipped wooden sign with black lettering heralded the title he searched for:

Shrub Inn

Ducking under the low arched doorway, Alvery felt an ounce of relief begin to press itself into his heart.

“G’day love! How can I help you?”

The newcomer turned towards the short innkeeper. Her tight dirty blonde curls half pinned back in a sagging bun, her rust colored corset and faded cream shirt clean and in good condition as she wiped her worn hands on a rag from behind the chestnut bar.

“I’m looking for a single room booked under… Robin.”

“Ah, yes, lad! You’re a bit early, but lucky for you, the season hasn’t started yet! You’ve got the second door on the right to yourself upstairs. Now, your booking has been paid in full, but would you like your bath now, or later?”

“Later would most likely be-”

“Now wouldn’t be an imposition, love.” The innkeeper eyed his slovenly state with a sympathetic eyebrow raise.

Once he recovered from the innkeeper’s blatant implication, Alvery flexed his grip on the handle of his briefcase twice.

“Right… a bath, then a meal, and a bottle of your finest red wine. Please and thanks.”

Nodding with a smile that hinted at the woman’s prettiness in her youth, she gestured towards the stairs that the bar ran under, with its first step beginning mere feet away from the backdoor.

Alvery felt the coarse seam of his briefcase’s handle bite a little deeper into his palm as he made his way to the stairs, and glumly acknowledged that the stairs would likely wind him further.

Glancing to his side Alvery took stock of the tavern area of the inn. It was small and rustic, with faded wooden floors, and three wrought iron chandeliers suspended above the eight tables positioned before the raised stone hearth that sat cold in the late spring day.

A large bay window with a seat built beneath it flooded the space with light, but other than being impressively clean, the room was bare. It was simple, and it smelt of fresh cut wood, as though the floor had only been finished a day before.

Turning his attention back to the stairs, Robin made his way around and up. The staircase, unlike the tavern, was far more worn, and creaked beneath his footfalls that fell in the middle of aged grooves in each step that had worn away the original wood color.

The narrow hallway of the second floor was cast in darkness due to the lack of windows, but Alvery did his best not to imagine Duke Gestov emerging from those shadows, smiling at him, the silver dome of his walking stick gleaming in his hand as he’d eye his prey in triumph…

Alvery seized the handle of the second room on the right that was allegedly his, but when the round handle barely moved, realized he hadn’t gotten the keys from the innkeeper.

He closed his eyes and took a steady breath in the quiet. He was already beginning to sweat…

Was he truly safe?

The shuffling sound of two pairs of shoes and whispers reached his ears, making him jolt back from the door, shrinking back into the shadows, his heart leaping to his throat.

After what felt like an eternity, a tall man with salt and pepper hair appeared. He wore a royal blue button down shirt that was neatly rolled to his elbows, and a black vest hung open as he maneuvered… a tub.

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The innkeeper Alvery had first met below appeared next carrying the other end.

“Ah, did I not give you the key? Apologies!” she called out once she had finished rounding the corner and noticed him standing like a statue in the middle of the darkened hall.

“Ah, no… no worries. I can carry the tub into my room,” Alvery added while avoiding the eyes of the man who had been helping the innkeeper.

The woman smiled at him. “Well the hard part is already over. I don’t mind doing the last few feet, but just wait here a moment. I’ll get this door open for us. Ah, my name is Colleen by the way, and this here is Luke.”

Alvery bobbed his head in the general direction of Colleen. “Nice to meet you both.”

Luke raised an eyebrow at the stranger, then looked to his wife with a curious expression.

She shrugged then turned and made her way back down the stairs to retrieve the key.

“So what brings you into town, Mr. Robin?” Luke asked, his voice a little louder than usual.

Alvery forced himself to meet his gaze, and found that despite the silver in his hair, that Luke appeared quite young in his features. He was handsome, with deep blue eyes, tanned skin, and his forearms were toned, indicating he was no stranger to working hard outside.

“Business,” Alvery replied with a strained smile. “I’m hoping to catch a carriage or cart that is heading toward Scarlem.”

“Ah, fishing industry? Or are you with the university?” Luke eyed the bulging briefcase and then momentarily noted the gut on the man.

“Just… family. I have family there,” Alvery managed, though it was painfully obvious he was lying.

Luke’s stare lingered, his former pleasant expression dwindling as he studied his guest.

“I see. When is it you are hoping to get to Scarlem?”

“As soon as possible,” Alvery responded swiftly.

Luke hesitated for a moment at the abrupt reply, and was opening his mouth to say more when the creaking of a floorboard drew both of the men’s attention.

It had come from somewhere behind Alvery making a fresh wave of cold sweat break out along his back, making it feel horribly itchy… that paired with the undeniable sense that someone was once again watching him made Alvery become even more desperate to retreat in his room.

Luke’s expression became masked as he stared at the shadowy end of the hall.

“You said you’ll be fine to carry the tub in with Colleen when she gets back?”

Alvery followed the man’s eyeline, but saw nothing. “Er… sure thing. Yes. Sorry I didn’t help carry the tub up the stairs. That was thoughtless of me.”

The innkeeper didn’t respond at first as he continued staring at…nothing, his mind having drifted elsewhere.

“Pardon me,” Luke turned without another glance at the suspicious guest, and made his way back down the stairs, his steps off beat to the lighter ones that signaled Colleen’s return with the key.

When the innkeeper reappeared, she had a strained look in the corner of her green eyes.

“Here you are, Mr. Robin.” She busied herself with unlocking the door and with a weak cry from the hinges, it swung open.

“Thanks,” Alvery was barely able to force a polite smile onto his face before he awkwardly sidled around the tub in the hall toward its opposite end and seized its lip.

He was expecting Colleen to grab the other end of the tub, but instead the woman strode by and descended the stairs once more.

Blinking with a frown, Alvery looked to the back of the hall again.

Something had spooked the couple…

He shook his head.

Just get into your room, and wait. Take a bath, drink some wine, review the designs, and with any luck by tomorrow, Nolan will have already sent a letter. Whatever startled the innkeepers had nothing to do with me… it can’t be the Gestovs… They should still be back at their dukedom outside of Mesolni.

It took a lot more effort than Alvery had anticipated to move the tub, and by the time he had dragged it in front of the chipped stone fireplace, he was sweating for an entirely different reason, and had scratched the wooden floorboards in two different places.

He sighed. He’d offer to try and fix it… somehow…

With that task completed, Alvery took stock of the room he found himself in.

The furniture was battered and scratched, but the cream linens and faded sage green pattern of the chairs in front of the heart looked clean and welcoming. The bed was pressed against the wall to the right with a chest at its footboard, and on the back wall beside it was a large rectangular window that overlooked two residential tiled rooftops before facing a wall to a taller stone building.

Not the most inspiring of views, but private and it let in enough light that the room was bright.

Against the left wall was a tall wardrobe that had a small brass key wedged in its lock.

Turning around again, Alvery was relieved to see a small desk and chair just behind the door where there already sat a wash basin and pitcher.

It wasn’t a grandiose room, but it was well kept and had everything he needed to stay for a night or two.

Closing the door behind himself, Alvery strode across a faded rug that perhaps had once had a discernible pattern made of browns, but presently, had parts of it sunbleached.

He plunked himself down into one of the arm chairs, closed his eyes, and took a steadying breath while clutching his briefcase to his chest.

All he had to do was keep his head down, and interact with as few people as possible. Then once he reached Scarlem, he could go to the university and complete his work.

Opening his eyes again, he allowed himself to relish in the quiet of the room. At least he wasn’t sleeping in a tent on the ground again, or hiding under sacks of potatoes in the back of a cart for days at a time…

No. Everything from there on out was supposed to be the easiest part of the whole journey since escaping the dukedom.

Glancing out his window, from the angle he was seated, Alvery could see a single wispy cloud lazily drifting across the brilliant blue sky.

Looking at all the facts, everything should have felt peaceful… A cheery town, a quiet room, a bed…

So why was it that Alvery couldn’t stave off the awful premonition that things weren’t going to go as smoothly as they should?