In front of the horse stables.
The waiter rubbed his hands, "I say, old sir, I'm truly sorry, but a generous guest arrived with ten horses, you see..."
By the birchwood pillar of the stables, an old man in a gray robe leaned against it, his body covered with dried straw, a walking stick placed at his side.
This old man in the gray robe had checked into the inn at midnight the previous day, without any silver on him, and had only asked for two bowls of water, wishing to spend the night in the stables.
The shopkeeper, seeing his old age, did not turn him away. But now the paying customer who brought the horses had arrived, and he no longer had a reason to sleep in the stables.
"Oh? Ah, I've caused some trouble for the inn."
The gray-robed old man patted his buttocks as he stood up, and gave the waiter an embarrassed smile, "Innkeeper, with no village ahead and no shop behind, could you spare me two pancakes? Otherwise, I'm afraid these old bones won't make it to the city."
