At the same time Padrin finally arrived in Norton just as the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows over the city. The journey had taken longer than he expected, far longer, in fact. The merchant he had been traveling with had turned out to be unreliable, making numerous stops in small towns and villages along the way, all of which had delayed him. The frustration had built up, but now, standing at the edge of the bustling city of Norton, Padrin felt a mix of relief and anxiety. He was finally here, but he knew that finding Amukelo, especially in a city like this, would not be easy.
The first thing Padrin did upon entering Norton was head straight to an inn. It wasn't one of the finer establishments, but it wasn't the worst either. The small wooden sign outside read "The Silver Fox." The building had a rustic charm, with ivy crawling up the stone walls and a warm glow emanating from the windows. Padrin walked inside, booked a room, and stowed away most of his belongings, only keeping what he deemed necessary. His sword hung at his side, a constant companion, though it wasn't his first choice for conflict. He hoped he wouldn't need it.
After settling in, Padrin began his search for Amukelo. He knew that Amukelo had tangled with the Nameless Dynasty, and considering that Norton was their main base of operations, he had to proceed with caution.
His search started with walking the length and breadth of the town, hoping to spot Amukelo by chance. It was an inefficient plan, he knew, but it was the only option that felt safe at the time. He avoided drawing too much attention to himself and refrained from asking too many questions, knowing that the wrong word could alert the Nameless Dynasty to his presence.
As the first day wore on, Padrin's frustration grew. He hadn't seen any sign of Amukelo, and by the time night fell, he was back at his inn, nursing a small tea of ale and running through every conversation he'd overheard, every face he'd scanned. Nothing.
The next day, Padrin changed tactics. Instead of aimlessly wandering, he decided to ask people about Amukelo, though he knew he had to be careful. He couldn't mention Amukelo's name openly. So, he began describing Amukelo instead. He kept his voice low, speaking only to people who didn't seem too connected to the city's power structures. But even then, Padrin couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, and the conversations he had bore no fruit. No one recognized the description.
By the second day, Padrin was growing more uneasy. He had learned nothing, and he began to wonder if Amukelo had even made it to Norton yet. The possibility gnawed at him, and he spent the night in restless thought, replaying the clues that had led him here in the first place. It was in a pub where the informant had told him that Amukelo's path would eventually lead him to Norton.
It was a faint lead, but it was all Padrin had.
On the third day, he decided to test the pub scene. The sun had barely risen when he left the inn, but his search through the day proved just as fruitless as before. By the time dusk settled in again, Padrin found himself standing at the entrance of a pub not far from his inn. The building itself was old and worn, with chipped wooden panels and an air of neglect hanging over it.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside. The scent of stale ale and tobacco greeted him, mixed with the low hum of conversation. The room was dimly lit, with only a few scattered candles providing light. The tables were filled with a variety of patrons, most of them rough-looking men, and more than a few bore the insignia of the Nameless Dynasty. Padrin's stomach churned as he realized just how deep their presence was here.
Padrin made his way to an empty table near the back, sitting down and keeping his back to the wall. From his seat, he could watch the room, but the more he looked, the less comfortable he felt. There were too many Nameless Dynasty members here. If any of them were listening too closely, they could easily suspect Padrin was looking for someone.
A barmaid came to his table, her face tired and her eyes devoid of warmth. "What'll it be?" she asked, her voice as flat as the wooden table.
Padrin ordered a simple drink, something to keep his presence unnoticed, and she left without a word.
As he sat there, listening and waiting, doubt crept in. Had he made a mistake? Was Amukelo even here?
Padrin sat in the dim light of the pub, his thoughts still swirling around Amukelo. His eyes flicked around the room every now and then, trying to read the faces of the Nameless Dynasty members who were scattered across the tavern. He sipped from his drink, though it tasted like little more than stale water, and tried to settle his mind, which had been plagued with uncertainty since arriving in Norton.
Suddenly, he noticed movement at the edge of his vision. A figure in a dark cloak approached his table, moving with a deliberate slowness, as if careful not to attract unnecessary attention. Padrin tensed slightly, his hand instinctively drifting toward his side, where his sword rested. The figure stopped by his table and asked in a low, gravelly voice, "Mind if I sit?"
Padrin studied him for a moment, taking in the details beneath the hooded cloak. The clothing was similar to the attire worn by the informer he'd met back in Llyn, the one who had first tipped him off about Amukelo's journey. Padrin hesitated for a split second, then nodded his head, indicating for the man to take a seat.
As the cloaked figure slid into the seat opposite him, he leaned in, speaking just above a whisper. "So, you're searching for a young guy with white hair and red eyes, correct?"
Padrin's eyes widened in surprise. This man knew exactly who he was looking for. Without hesitation, he leaned forward and whispered back, "Are you with the informer from Llyn?"
The man nodded, a slight smirk appearing beneath his hood. "Correct. We have our ways of staying connected."
Padrin felt a wave of relief wash over him. If this guy was part of the same network as the informer from Llyn, there was a good chance he might actually have useful information about Amukelo. "Yes," Padrin replied, his voice steady but laced with anticipation. "I'm looking for him."
The man glanced around the pub, his eyes flickering over the Nameless Dynasty members who sat at various tables. "This isn't the best place to have this conversation," he muttered under his breath.
Padrin nodded in agreement. The pub was far too crowded with the wrong kind of people. They both rose from the table quietly, making sure not to draw any attention as they made their way out of the tavern. The night air outside was cool and crisp, a welcome change from the stuffy, smoke-filled atmosphere of the pub. They walked a short distance until they found a quieter street, far enough from the main square but not isolated enough to arouse suspicion.
The cloaked man stopped and turned to Padrin, lowering his voice to just above a whisper. "Your friend," he began, "isn't in Norton yet."
Padrin's face fell into an expression of confusion. "What? Where is he, then?" he asked.
"The last place he was seen," the man continued, "was in Gathe."
Padrin's brow furrowed, his mind racing. "Gathe?" he repeated. "Why would he go there?"
The cloaked figure simply shrugged, as though the details of Amukelo's whereabouts were of little concern to him. "We thought he'd come straight here," he explained, "but it seems he had other matters to deal with. However," the man's tone shifted to one of certainty, "the person he's targeting is here in Norton. So it's only a matter of time before your friend shows up."
Padrin processed this information quickly, but something still didn't sit right with him. "How can you be so sure?" he asked, eyeing the man suspiciously.
The informer smirked slightly, almost as if he enjoyed Padrin's confusion. "Your friend has a way to track his target. He's on his way, trust me."
Padrin sighed, realizing that he wasn't going to get any more details than that. The man was clearly withholding some information, but it was enough to know that Amukelo was still coming to Norton. And if this guy's network had tracked him to Gathe, then there was no reason not to believe him.
"Fine," Padrin nodded, accepting the answer for now. "So how do I know when he's arrived?"
The informer's smirk grew wider, and he extended his hand. "We'll keep you informed," he said slyly, "but it'll cost you."
Padrin groaned inwardly. Of course, there had to be a catch. "How much?" he asked.
"Five gold coins for each day we patrol," the informer replied smoothly.
"Five gold coins?" Padrin nearly choked on the words. His eyes widened in disbelief. "What if he doesn't show up for a month?" he asked incredulously.
The informer's grin widened even more. "Then you'll owe me a hundred and fifty coins," he said, almost as if he enjoyed watching Padrin's frustration.
Padrin shook his head, dumbfounded. He could do basic math, but that wasn't the point. "A hundred and fifty coins?" he muttered under his breath, half-expecting the man to realize how absurd that sounded.
"That's the price," the informer replied, unfazed. "Take it or leave it."
Padrin threw up his hands in exasperation. "Fine, fine," he grumbled. "Whatever. Just make sure I know when he gets here."
The informer nodded with a satisfied look. "A pleasure doing business with you," he said smoothly, extending his hand once again.
Padrin reluctantly shook it, feeling a mixture of frustration and defeat. As the informer turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder and said, "You'll know shortly after he arrives."
As he made his way back to the inn, Padrin couldn't help but feel like he had been outmaneuvered in this little negotiation. Still, at least now he had someone keeping an eye out for Amukelo. Even if it cost him more than he'd like to admit.