Warm light glows through the windows. Inside, the air is rich with the scent of spiced stew, baked bread, and hearth-smoke. Lira inhales deeply as she steps inside.
“By the stars, that smells like heaven.”
Ronan exchanges quiet words with the innkeeper — a sturdy woman with flour on her sleeves and a quick, practiced smile.
“Three rooms, four meals,” she says.
“Meals are 28 copper each — that’s 112 copper total, so 1 silver and 12 copper.”
She continues,
“Rooms are 1 silver and 50 copper each, breakfast included.”
Ronan nods and pays without argument.
Eis watches quietly.
Not obviously — just enough to learn.
The innkeeper collects the coins:
- Copper: small, reddish-brown, slightly uneven
- Silver: larger, cool-toned, stamped with a three-mountain crest
From the amounts Ronan hands over, Eis quickly deciphers the ratio:
1 silver = 100 copper.
Clean. Simple. Useful.
Ronan pays for meals, three rooms, plus a tip — the innkeeper beams and gestures them toward a table by the hearth.
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A serving girl brings out heavy bowls of beef stew, crusty bread, and mugs of pale ale. Steam curls into the warm air.
Eis stared at the food.
Lira takes a bite and nearly melts.
“Warm food, soft chairs — I might cry.”
Kael snorts. “Wait until Lumaire charges a silver just to breathe.”
Ronan turns to Eis, steady and observant.
“You fought well today. Most travelers freeze the when they see blood.”
Eis lifts her mug, takes a measured sip.
“Instinct takes over, I suppose.”
A simple truth for her.
Ronan studies her a moment longer, maybe recognizing the weight behind her restraint.
Lira leans in with a grin.
“Either way, I’m glad you showed up when you did. Another few seconds and that ambush would’ve gone very differently.”
Eis shrugs slightly, gaze flicking back toward the treeline where the fight had broken out.
“Just luck,” she says. “Right place. Right time.”
Lira laughs.
Even Kael allows a small smirk.
Dinner settles into a soft rhythm — fire crackling, light conversation, mugs tapping.
For the first time since waking in this world, Eis feels almost grounded.
When plates are empty, Ronan pushes his bowl aside.
“We leave at dawn. Briarstead’s safe, but the road to Lumaire isn’t.”
He meets Eis’s eyes.
“You’re welcome to walk with us. If trouble finds us again, I’d rather it find you on our side.”
Lira adds cheerfully,
“And we still owe you dessert.”
Kael mutters from the window, “Fine.”
The inn grows quieter as night deepens.
Lira is already half-asleep.
Kael watches the street out of habit.
Ronan sits the way a man does when he’s forgotten how to relax.
Warmth. Safety. A rare pocket of peace.