The caravan arrived at a three-way fork with no signs of which go where. The old farmer stopped right in the middle of the road and saw no one else in the vicinity. No traveling merchants, no wandering adventurers, they were alone with nothing but the rustle of grass from the fresh meadow.
"Is this the path?" asked Graham.
"This is the fork, sir," the old farmer nodded firmly.
"I used to take the northwest path because there is a river for Dora to drink, however, that's all there is. To accommodate people, there is hardly anything there but the boring view," the old farmer shook his head. "We have to take the other path because there is a local guild there. They have an inn and a tavern as well."
"Tavern you say?!" Lyon exclaimed with high spirit.
"No, you're not going to drink anything there, Sein," said Cecile with a smile.
