The chiseled walls of Galeden rose higher than the pines, and its towers left Cyrus in awe. A purple banner draped above the iron portcullis, trimmed with gold, and embellished by a black bear emerging from a mountain den. Beneath, a line of citizens and merchants waited to enter, each being checked by a pair of guards.
He spotted the same purple crest on their breastplates as they lazily eye'd a wagon of bright red apples before waving it through. The light of the nearby braziers glinted off their armor, while their pikes slumped against their shoulders.
The older of the two frowned as Cyrus approached and straightened his back. With a wave, he gestured Cyrus over.
"Don't think I've seen you before," The guard said. He scratched his chin, his brown eyes flicking between Cyrus's hood and his dirt-stained clothes. "What's your name, and reason for entering?"
"Cyrus, and I'm looking for a place to sleep for a few nights," Cyrus said, avoiding the man's eyes. "I'll be on my way soon after."
The guard grunted. "As long as I don't catch you sleeping in the alleys, and asking for handouts. Gods above, the last thing we need is another bloody beggar. Also, keep your hands free of anything that's not yours, else you'll be finding your way to the gallows. You understand?"
"Of course," Cyrus said, showing his hands.
The guard curled his lip. "Go on then."
Cyrus gave a slight nod, and slipped through the gate, joining the passage of people. High cobblestone houses lined the street, their walls dotted with shuttered windows, and doors of pine. As the sun fell behind the mountains, candles and lanterns flickered to life, while mothers and wives called their husbands and children home for supper.
Cyrus kept his head low as passed the houses, his stomach grumbling at the aroma of meat and potatoes, mixed with fresh vegetables, and loaves of bread. Rubbing his sides, he hurried to the tavern, which brimmed with people drunk on mead and beer.
Pushing through them, Cyrus headed towards the counter, where the bartender scrubbed at a particularly sticky spot on the wood. Despite his slim figure, he leaned into his work, polishing away until the spot faded, and he stood with a grin, before noticing Cyrus.
"Sorry about that. Someone spilled a mug earlier, and the spot has been bothering me ever since. Now then, what can I do for you?" The bartender asked, tucking the rag into his waistband. He stood a good head taller than Cyrus, and watched him with a half arched brow.
"I was hoping for something warm to eat, and a drink," Cyrus said. He glanced around, then pointed towards an empty table near the fireplace. "I'll be over there."
The man nodded. "That'll be two copper."
Cyrus retrieved the coin, and slid it across the counter. The bartender picked them up, and studied them for a moment before dropping them into the pouch at his side with a clink.
"Very good. I'll have them bring your food to you in a moment."
Cyrus made his way to the table and slipped into a seat with the fire behind him. A nearby window allowed him to watch the street outside, though it would be difficult for anyone to see his face.
As he waited for his food, he noticed a group of men situated near the door. They wore worn tunics, and spoke in hushed voices, though Cyrus still caught a whisper of what they said.
"Has there still been no word from Heldren? I thought he was supposed to arrive two days ago." A young man spoke first, appearing not much older than sixteen. His eyes darted between two older men, and he clenched his mug tightly. "Could he have gotten lost? Or maybe bandits-"
"Enough," One of the older men snapped. He scowled. "Heldren wouldn't have gotten lost, and he knows better than to be caught by bandits. I'm certain he'll be here soon."
"But Ersen has a point, Felron. Heldren said he'd stop in Mourtop, and then be here before the end of the week, and that was the last we heard. If he was hung up by something, he would have sent word, but there's been nothing. We can't ignore the strange movements of the animals either."
"I- I know," The old man said, sighing. "It's unlike Heldren to be this late, but it's not like an entire caravan could just go missing. Not in these parts anyway."
The men's conversation moved on, and Cyrus leaned back in his seat. A sense of dread washed over him as he considered the possibilities. 'Perhaps they ran into a beast like the boars. If that's true, then what else might be out there?'
Cyrus shivered at the thought.
"Are you alright?"
Cyrus jumped as a barmaid appeared beside him, carrying a plate of brisket and rolls glazed in honey, along with a foaming mug. Locks of auburn hair slipped over her shoulder as she set the platter down while glancing at him from the corner of her eye.
Cyrus gave a sheepish smile, and relaxed his shoulders. "Yes… Yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
"You looked a bit tense, is all," she said, hugging the platter. She brushed the hair away from her face, and smiled. "Well, let me know if there is anything else I can get for you."
The woman turned to leave, but Cyrus caught her arm.
"Wait, do you have any rooms available?" Cyrus asked. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Something preferably cheap, and I only need a single cot."
The barmaid pursed her lips with a furrowed brow. "Hmm, I believe there are still a few rooms left. Though the cheapest will still cost you five bronze a night. Will that be alright?"
"It will." Cyrus handed her the coin, and she motioned towards a door across the tavern.
"Head through there once you're done for the night, and take the room on the far left. I'll let the barkeep know it's occupied."
"Thank you," Cyrus said.
The barmaid nodded, and headed back to the counter. Cyrus pocketed the rest of his coin, then grabbed a fork, and dug into the brisket. The warm meat melted in his mouth, and possessed a far tastier texture than the dried jerky, and hard bread he ate the past three nights.
While he ate, he noticed the men rising from the table to his left and heading out. As they left, Cyrus overheard the one named Felron speaking to the other old man.
"I want you to send some men to Mourtop. Find out if Heldren has arrived yet, and what's taking him so long."
"And if he hasn't? What will we do?"
Felron pushed open the door, causing the fire to stir. "I suppose we'll have to continue on our way. We can't stay here forever, and Heldren knows this. I'm certain he'll figure it out when arrives, and finds us gone."
The men's voices faded as the tavern door fell shut. Cyrus brimmed with unease, and hurried to finish his food. Once done, he tossed an extra copper on the table, and slipped through the doorway. A corridor led him to the bedroom the barmaid mentioned.
Inside, Cyrus lit the lantern hung beside the door, and scanned the room. Moonlight streamed through the window, gracing the single straw cot with a silver curtain. Both the nightstand and wardrobe were made from redwood, and a writing desk lined the side.
'For five copper a night, this isn't so bad,' Cyrus thought. He tossed his cloak onto the desk, then latched the door with a thick wooden beam. From there, he retired to the straw cot, and tucked his coin purse beneath the sack pillow.
The mattress crinkled as he draped it over the end, and laid back, allowing his body to sink into the straw.
'I'll need to search the city for a scholar tomorrow, though I don't think it will be easy,' Cyrus thought, rubbing the amulet beneath his tunic. He sighed, dropping it back to his chest, and tilted his head towards the window. Thick white clouds drifted through the night sky, their depths outlined by the brilliant radiance of the moon.
Beyond, the night sky sparkled as the stars flickered amidst the sea of black. Cyrus watched them until his eyes drifted shut, and he fell into a slumber.