Night.
The Inn.
Travel. Critic-Ishire.
**************
The innskeeper rushed to them the second they stepped in making Lydia straighten her back. "Ah, Sir Bottomore and Lady Arabella, welcome to our humble establishment" the fat innskeeper acknowledged them with the name Conan must have registered with.
"You table is prepared, as requested." she added, her tummy was large for her body but who were the couple to judge.
Sir Bottomore?
Theodore grinded his teeth at the name Conan had picked for him, he knew the knight was messing with him but it unnerving anyway. He love his name too much.
A table had been prepared for them, adorned with fine linens and gleaming silverware, a testament to their esteemed status.
"Why was she referring to us differently, Bottomore?" Lydia asked sweetly, a small smile gracing her delicate features.
Theodore groaned, his eyes searching for any listener. "Fucking Conan!" He snarled.
