Vol knew he'd looked for too long when Vale raised a confused eyebrow at him.
They began their meal with the small mutterings of chatter. Only when they'd sipped on their ale, and downed nearly half of their food did the men begin to grow rowdier.
"So, what's it today again, something to do with a priest?" Silverfish said, still chewing through his meat.
"A pagan procession," Penelope corrected. "They're… not popular with the more religious members of Merca. Or Syndran society at large. They're prone to attacks when they perform their festivities in public. They've hired us to stand guard, and ensure that there aren't any conflicts as they make their march through."
"Wait, wait," Silverfish said. "This ain't what I thought it would be. This sounds like a pain in the arse, Princess. We're going to be having to do deal with townspeople?"
