without any response. His stomach growled, and his thoughts centered solely on food. He got up quickly and rushed to meet up with his elven brother downstairs.
After a hearty meal and some ale, Lucius and Siegfried went back into town. Lucius would have preferred resting in their room, since he was very full and satiated, but Siegfried insisted they meet someone in the city before sunset. He had been refused the identity of the mystery man or woman they were to meet, his brother quietly dismissing all of his questions.
The city was quiet and there weren't many people wandering the streets like before. He wondered if the guards' tale about trouble in the city was a reason for the early retiring of the townsfolk. He suddenly wished he had his sword, despite the fact the sun had not yet vanished into the horizon. Siegfried led the way from The Griffin's Head down the cobblestone road and into the marketplace. Vendors had gone home for the day, their stands lay barren and their wagons were nowhere to be seen. They walked toward the gate of Sylvania, which Lucius noticed from this range had been shut and bolted for the evening.
When the two arrived near The Crimson Eagle, Siegfried stopped. Laughter and commotion came out from inside the pub's opened doors. Drunks, no doubt,Lucius thought. He turned to his elven brother, but realized he had begun walking in the opposite direction to the blacksmith's tent. Siegfried peered inside the tent but saw no one inside. A black anvil stood like a miniature monolith inside the tent. Hilts, pommels, and unfinished weapons lay scattered on the floor.
"Are you looking for the old blacksmith?" a voice behind Siegfried asked.
Siegfried turned around and saw an old man with a long beard reaching to his chest looking over at him, "Yes, I am."
The old man cleared his throat and pointed a crooked finger at the Crimson Eagle. "After work, he always stops to get a pint or two ... or three," he cackled, clearly drunk himself.
"Thanks for the tip, old man," Lucius said, standing near enough to smell the ale on the man's breath.
"Love to be of help," he gave a quick gesture as if tipping an invisible hat on his ragged white head. The old man jogged away, tripping and stumbling every so often before he was out of sight.
"A blacksmith—of course. My mind has been all over the place and I forgot about that," Lucius confessed, thinking of the prophecy Helmer had recited to him.
"What sort of things were you lingering on?" Siegfried asked with inquisitive eyes.
A flash of Kraegyn's sapphire eyes entered into his mind. "Nothing. I ... I've been thinking about my family and whether or not there are any who are still alive. I've also been a bit overwhelmed by seeing my own kind wandering about rather than the D'aryan elves. It's all so new and different."
"I understand your feelings, Lucius. Do not worry. There will be much that you and I will encounter on this quest that will be different than anything either of us is used to," the elf placed his hand on his shoulder. "I assure you that if there are any relatives of yours who still live, we shall find them."
Lucius nodded, "Thank you, Siegfried."
"Croesi," Siegfried welcomed him in the elven language. "Now, let us tend to the pressing matters at hand."
They approached the opened doorway of the Crimson Eagle and entered. The air inside was humid, and the tavern had an eerie glow provided by the fireplace. Drunks in the rear of the main room broke into song, hitting their mugs together and downing whole pints. Lucius and Siegfried walked up to the counter, searching for the bartender who was absent from his post. He suddenly came out from a storage room behind the counter, and they were surprised to see he was an elf. He was graceful as he walked to the end of the counter where they stood. Deep green eyes, blonde flowing hair, and pale skin made him seem like a ghost who haunted the Crimson Eagle.
"What beverages would suit my lords this evening?"
After a hearty meal and some ale, Lucius and Siegfried went back into town. Lucius would have preferred resting in their room, since he was very full and satiated, but Siegfried insisted they meet someone in the city before sunset. He had been refused the identity of the mystery man or woman they were to meet, his brother quietly dismissing all of his questions.
The city was quiet and there weren't many people wandering the streets like before. He wondered if the guards' tale about trouble in the city was a reason for the early retiring of the townsfolk. He suddenly wished he had his sword, despite the fact the sun had not yet vanished into the horizon. Siegfried led the way from The Griffin's Head down the cobblestone road and into the marketplace. Vendors had gone home for the day, their stands lay barren and their wagons were nowhere to be seen. They walked toward the gate of Sylvania, which Lucius noticed from this range had been shut and bolted for the evening.
When the two arrived near The Crimson Eagle, Siegfried stopped. Laughter and commotion came out from inside the pub's opened doors. Drunks, no doubt,Lucius thought. He turned to his elven brother, but realized he had begun walking in the opposite direction to the blacksmith's tent. Siegfried peered inside the tent but saw no one inside. A black anvil stood like a miniature monolith inside the tent. Hilts, pommels, and unfinished weapons lay scattered on the floor.
"Are you looking for the old blacksmith?" a voice behind Siegfried asked.
Siegfried turned around and saw an old man with a long beard reaching to his chest looking over at him, "Yes, I am."
The old man cleared his throat and pointed a crooked finger at the Crimson Eagle. "After work, he always stops to get a pint or two ... or three," he cackled, clearly drunk himself.
"Thanks for the tip, old man," Lucius said, standing near enough to smell the ale on the man's breath.
"Love to be of help," he gave a quick gesture as if tipping an invisible hat on his ragged white head. The old man jogged away, tripping and stumbling every so often before he was out of sight.
"A blacksmith—of course. My mind has been all over the place and I forgot about that," Lucius confessed, thinking of the prophecy Helmer had recited to him.
"What sort of things were you lingering on?" Siegfried asked with inquisitive eyes.
A flash of Kraegyn's sapphire eyes entered into his mind. "Nothing. I ... I've been thinking about my family and whether or not there are any who are still alive. I've also been a bit overwhelmed by seeing my own kind wandering about rather than the D'aryan elves. It's all so new and different."
"I understand your feelings, Lucius. Do not worry. There will be much that you and I will encounter on this quest that will be different than anything either of us is used to," the elf placed his hand on his shoulder. "I assure you that if there are any relatives of yours who still live, we shall find them."
Lucius nodded, "Thank you, Siegfried."
"Croesi," Siegfried welcomed him in the elven language. "Now, let us tend to the pressing matters at hand."
They approached the opened doorway of the Crimson Eagle and entered. The air inside was humid, and the tavern had an eerie glow provided by the fireplace. Drunks in the rear of the main room broke into song, hitting their mugs together and downing whole pints. Lucius and Siegfried walked up to the counter, searching for the bartender who was absent from his post. He suddenly came out from a storage room behind the counter, and they were surprised to see he was an elf. He was graceful as he walked to the end of the counter where they stood. Deep green eyes, blonde flowing hair, and pale skin made him seem like a ghost who haunted the Crimson Eagle.
"What beverages would suit my lords this evening?"
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