People as individuals were reasonable to a degree. When they came together as a collective, they started getting funny ideas. Ones often laboring for the proceeds of foul machination rather than prospective charity or goodwill. It was natural for societies to gather, but they often became the nesting grounds of things worthy of nightmares.

"You planning on staying here long then?" The stablehand raised his eyebrows to me as Angelus crossed his palm with the necessary coin required to store the wagon and horse.

"For a couple of days at most." I nodded to him. "We'll be out most of the day and return tomorrow should all things go well."

"I see. Not spending much time in the village then?"

"No." I narrowed my eyes slightly at the man as he turned away to finish hoisting up the wagon. I caught the glare of Florence, and she returned a brief nod. Ever since we stepped foot in the village, there had been a sense of something being slightly off.

Perhaps we were just unused to the apprehensive glares of those not trusting of adventuring types. Perhaps it was just me; a mountain of a man, I looked more like some manner of tribal warlord rather than the typical fare they probably saw come through on occasion. Perhaps it was just in our heads. Life didn't seem to work out so simply, in my experience. But with nothing left to go on and not wanting to rile the man up further, we exited the stables and headed towards the village square.

It was a quaint place - my earlier imaginings of it being a sleepy village proved to be mostly on the mark. All the buildings looked to be made from local materials with rough outer walls and thick thatched rooves. Each house had a small garden around it, grass and flowers currently hiding away until the sun reared more earnestly in the sky. While most buildings seemed to be houses, either empty or full of eyes narrowed toward us, there were a few larger - and the one at the top end of the square looked to be a tavern.

"Time for an ale before we head out?" Angelus raised his eyebrows.

"Just the one." I nodded. Something to put a bit of spark in our bellies, perhaps. Jakob had fully recoiled beneath his cloak's hood, seemingly even more put off by this village than he usually was, even in Fogvale. However, the pair of them had originally come from a village; perhaps this place held even more similarity and anguish for him than the bigger town did.

"Taverns are always a good place to find out information, too," Florence added.

I had a dim view of the subject - especially after the monastery tip I had picked up previously, but I knew what she said was true. Especially for adventurers. Taverns or inns became the place you'd gather after a tough quest or a mission out in the wilderness, and so stories and information would be shared. To put it bluntly, a lot of people who frequent such establishments would have loosened their tongues after getting a bit of alcohol in them. So it was easier to pry nuggets of intrigue from them rather than the other ways. Such as threats of violence.

The village seemed quite small even on the approach, and there wasn't a large number of houses or other buildings. If my eyes were not deceiving me, I would estimate that there were only 100 to 150 villagers here, depending on how many per household. Perhaps they brought in more seasonal workers when the fields were ripe for harvest, but these sorts of things were far below me in my previous life, so my knowledge of their exact workings was pretty thin.

The Tavern itself was barely bigger than most of the residential buildings. Slightly wider and slightly deeper, it looked more like a rustic cottage than any other sort of establishment that had been more common to me in my travels. Yet, here was the sign hanging over the front that said Muddy Boot, and with a little hesitation, I led the party in through the simple wooden door.

It was remarkably gloomy inside despite the otherwise light sky of the day. The soft wooden tones were contrasted against many green hanging vine plants, potted and arranged around various pillars and alcoves of the interior. The walls themselves were slate grey stone, which seemed to have been worn over the years. It gave the place quite a cold feel to it, whereas usually, taverns were a place of warmth both in temperature and in ambiance.

There were twelve patrons currently in the tavern, arranged sporadically around half a dozen tables. As expected, all of their eyes turned to us as we entered, a silence that would have loomed oppressively if it didn't already seem pretty drab without the fact. Trying to ignore the stares of the locals, we approached the bar, a small offering of aged wood barely longer than the normal tables. Behind it, a man with a billowing grey mustache and heavy eyebrows nodded to us but didn't seem too pleased with our arrival.

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"How can I help you?" he asked in a manner that seemed like he hoped the answer would be to give us directions out of the village right away. Despite his short tone, I felt it best to act like a good guest.

"Four mugs of whatever you have on tap, please," I gave him my best polite smile, which I hoped didn't seem too intimidating.

"Right you are. Are you going to be in the village long?"

I shook my head, "No. Is there a problem if we were to be?"

"No," he paused as he withdrew a second mug from the back wall. "No problem at all."

I exchanged a glance with Angelos; he would know better than the others when something smelled bad. His expression clearly reflected my thoughts. You needn't be too experienced to know when there was something in the village that they didn't want us to see, if they were so cagey about visitors staying.

More than just a slight fear of the unknown, they seemed politely hostile towards us in an eerie fashion. It didn't seem like they would ask us to leave or tell us that we weren't welcome here, but they made it pretty clear with their body language and the repeated questions that we were intruding on something.

"You don't get many visitors, I take it?" Florence asked as the man put the mugs on a slightly lower counter behind the main bar.

"None that stay for long," he noted, "We get a few adventurer groups come through, but the village doesn't have much to offer, so it's often just a brief stop on whatever journeys they intended to complete."

"When's the last time one came through?" I raised my eyebrow and slowly glanced around the room, taking note that all eyes were still on us. The villagers had paused in their supposed revelry, although I hadn't seen any of them take a sip of their drinks so far.

"Well, there was one about a week back, and then probably we get around two or three a month."

"Any heading down to the Warrens?" I asked.

"Yeah - the last group, that's where they were going to, I believe."

I raised my jaw. If they didn't return, then that seemed like a simple enough story. If the giant rat was F-rank, it wasn't a huge surprise that it would have taken out a group of adventurers. But there was something about the way he said the phrase that kind of lingered with me, and I felt apprehensive.

We instead waited in silence as he filled up the four mugs with the single thing that they seemed to have on tap. Once done, and with Angelos grumbling as he paid, we headed out and sat over by the left-hand side, where there was a clear table. Locals in the room continued to track us until we sat down, and then they seemed to resume their murmured conversations and ruminating over their alcohol. Any persistent onlookers turned away from the glare the Guardian returned toward them.

"I have a bad feeling about this place," Jakob murmured.

"You have a bad feeling about every place," Florence retorted, "But I do agree."

I grunted and nodded, raising the beer mug to my face to smell the liquid. I didn't have the keenest sense of being able to discern different poisons, especially not in my weakened state. However, I did have improved senses over the other three. From what I could tell, it seemed pretty normal. I had anticipated as much, but it paid to be cautious. If there had been two ale taps, then I would have been slightly more apprehensive about that possibly being one that was poisoned or perhaps had something foul within it. However, it seemed to be on the level, and I drank down the liquid. The others followed suit after having watched me prod my discerning nose over it.

For all that we had hoped the drink would rouse some spirits and add some warmth to our coming venture... it did nothing of the sort. In fact, it made things more uncomfortable, setting us more on edge. Perhaps we should just get on with the quest and get out of here as soon as we can.

With a sigh, Angelos stared into the bottom of his mug. "I don't much like being stared at."

I agreed. I, too, didn't like being the focal point of such ill intention. Whether they intended to shun us from the village, perhaps with the inclusion of pitchforks and torches, that was one thing. What worried me more was if they intended to keep us here for some other purpose. The veiled thoughts of what happened back at the ministry painted my mind with a distasteful color that I didn't appreciate. It was easy to assume the worst with no evidence, but I tried not to let paranoia take the reins.

Instead, under the watchful glare of the locals, we finished up our round and gave a nod and thanks to the barkeep before heading out back into the overcast day.

"Should we get straight to it then?" Florence rubbed her head. "Do you need to pick up any other supplies?"

"I'd rather not spend any more time here," Jacob murmured.

"Let's head out then. It's to the north." I rubbed my chin, my fingers massaging my thick beard. Something caught my eye and gave me reason to pause. "Angelos, have you ever seen those symbols before?"

I didn't point, but I gestured with my eyes towards one of the houses—an otherwise unassuming cottage made of rough stone pasted together, a thatched roof protecting it from the elements. On the pillars at the corners of the building, engraved symbols of what looked to be eyes were present, where the pupil was a spiral instead of a circle or dot.

Angelos tilted his head for a second with his brow furrowed and then grunted, looking back up to me.

"That's bad," he said.