Ingrid sat in a sturdy wooden chair, her posture erect and chin held high, despite the rustic surroundings of the tavern. The table in front of her was also made of wood, its surface worn smooth from years of use. From her vantage point on the second floor, she had a bit of view of the bustling activity below. She watched as patrons came and went, their voices mingling with the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter.
Despite the lively atmosphere of the tavern, she was the only customer in the second floor. Perhaps that was just a coincidence or perhaps her gallant knight had arranged it that way.
Ingrid turned to the side, her gaze drifting to where Caym stood near the stairs in front of man that seemed to be one of the tavern workers. She would catch Caym occasionally glancing in her direction, a silent reassurance of her safety.
