The breath of dry winds caressed the dusty tops of a barren cliffscape, tinted orange 'neath the late afternoon sun. Cracked and parched, the few narrow flats between the ridges were devoid of any vegetation save for the gray corpses of old trees, their soft bark crumbling away. Streaks of white salt lay woven across the ground, sunken into crags. The only sound carrying across the waste was the whisper of the breeze from the south and east, twisted into a stench of sulfide. In every direction: desolation.

Two travelers braved the steep inclines and negotiated the deadly drops as they made their way down the southern mountains of Numir. The one in front, a tall man with a wide-brimmed cavalier's hat, crowned with a red feather, easily navigated the treacherous footpaths with calm and effortless finesse. He wrapped himself in khaki cotton clothes with baggy pants and a poncho. Meanwhile, the man behind, though equipped roughly the same to fight the desert heat, struggled to keep up and constantly second-guessed his footing. He had thrown back his hood earlier, revealing chestnut hair that was tangled with sweat and dirt. A youthful face was reddened with exhaustion and a need for clean air.

When Eli left the temperate, though boring, city of Pavicele for the chance to see warm, mystifying sands that whispered in the wind, he hadn't expected his first journey through one to be as underwhelming as this. The southeastern peninsula of Abia, known as Numir's Arm, was a desolate place. He expected a dry land, but not a wasteland. The stretch of land embraced the eastern shore of the South Abian Sea and made up the western shore of the Riah Channel. The mountain range that ran the length of the peninsula, like a rocky spine, served as a contested border between two powerful nations, between which Eli and Mikael navigated at their peril. The Arcanaan Empire at their backs dominated most of the Abian continent, while the Nasir Dominion before them occupied half of Numir's Arm and controlled a large island beyond the channel.

The eastern face of the mountains fell gradually to an over-salinated lake. Eli and Mikael—the feather-topped bard that roped the boy into this journey with song and charm—had been hiking for nearly a week. They started on the western slope after having made landfall on the shore. Mikael explained it was better to cross the border by land than by sea, given the hostilities between the Empire and the Dominion.

"I'd rather not see our journey come to an end so soon with a ballista shot across the bow of a ship," the bard quipped.

The Empire may claim the western half of the peninsula, and thus the western slope of the Numir mountains, but the Dominion's frequent skirmishing kept the border in constant flux. It was unrealistic to waste manpower on controlling the stretch of land, especially when the Dominion's superior navy could surround them from the South Abian. Thus, Eli and Mikael's bold border crossing went largely unnoticed by either side.

As they descended, the two eventually spied the town of Adeha'l from atop a flat wide enough to offer them a moment's respite. The sun would set soon, and it was too risky to travel any further downhill with all the loose rocks and unstable ground. Eli felt like he could collapse anyway. The hiking itself shouldn't have been so hard on him, given his dancer's physique, but he felt like he left all of his stamina on the boat.

"If ye stopped two-steppin' all the time like a ditz, a city boy like you might fare better at this altitude," the annoyingly cheery minstrel said as he took a seat on a smooth rock and began to unbuckle the sleeping roll on top of his travel pack.

Eli let his own backpack slide lazily off his shoulders and fall to the ground with a soft thud. The young man then bent over and placed his hands on his knees. Staring at the brown patches of dried, clumped dirt at his feet, he drew in deep breaths. His lungs filled with stagnant, hot air. Droplets of sweat from his brow pat the ground, but any traces of moisture immediately vanished as the earth's thirst subsumed the petty offerings in a flash.

"Keep yer head up, Eli," Mikael said. "Slow breaths now. Nice and slow."

Eli scowled and kept breathing at his own pace. "I... don't need... breathing tips."

Mikael picked up his lute with a smirk and crossed a leg. "Shall I be a metronome? No wait, on second thought, ye might end up dancin' to the beat until you turn white and collapse. Then again... that'd might teach you a good lesson."

"And what... would that be?" Eli dared to ask. He finally rolled back onto his buttocks and supported his weight with his arms behind his back, hands flat on the dirt. With his feet kicked out in front of him, Eli stared at the purple-orange sky. The stars had yet to break through the blur of colors, but the moon was visible.

"Knowing your limits, boy," Mikael replied. The bard started playing his lute, but it was a soft impromptu strum, something calm and relaxing; a ballad maybe, or just the plucking of a whimsical daydreamer.

While Mikael provided them with atmosphere and acted like he hadn't a care in the world, Eli handled the work of setting up their camp. While there was no life around, there were plenty of dead trees and shrubs on the inclines of the terrain facing Adeha'l, which made for perfect sources of firewood. Oddly though, the plants hadn't been dead long enough to petrify.

"You have quite an eye there," Mikael said when Eli mentioned the observation.

"When I'm not-... When I wasn't doing jobs for the Guild or Shalla, I ran errands for an apothecary," Eli explained. He rummaged through his backpack for a tinderbox to light the fire.

Mikael continued to play his lute, but chimed, "Ah, Tamilda's Tonics."

"Shalla told you about Tamilda, too, then?"

"She also told me the lass is a bit of a worry wort. I can't imagine convincing her to let you go off on a grand adventure was easy."

Back in Pavicele, since losing everything, Eli thought he was alone. But after letting Mikael smooth talk him into running away to see the world, Eli realized he had taken a lot of things for granted. The courtesans, the Guild, Tamilda—they all cared for him. They raised him. It was harder than he thought it would be to let go.

"I told her I was doing it for my sake," Eli said. "That I was finally doing what she always wanted me to: leaving the past behind."

"Though that be what yer doin', was the intent behind the words honest? Or did ye simply tell her what she wanted to hear?"

"You tell me," replied the boy as he struck a piece of flint and fire steel over the carefully laid branches between a circle of stones. A few sparks flew, but didn't catch.

The bard smiled and shrugged. "I believe the fair lotus has yet to blossom and realize itself."

Eli cringed at the words but didn't respond. He struck the flint and steel again. This time, the sparks bit into the dry wood and a bright yellow flame jumped to life. The boy almost jumped back, surprised at the vibrant color. He watched the crackling fire spread over the wood, turning brighter. The whole blaze was yellow, but licks of orange slowly appeared after several seconds of burning.

Mikael let out an impressed whistle and explained, "The salt in the wood must be doin' that."

"What happened to this place?" asked Eli.

The minstrel ceased his strumming and looked toward Adeha'l. The town's few lights shone dimly in the setting darkness.

"The answer to that is our query this time," Mikael said. "When I was here last, about half a year ago, the Stone Troll still served a good ale. I wonder... is it still in business, or did that ol' curmudgeon finally give up on it?"

Eli moved over to and sat cross-legged on his bedroll. As Mikael resumed playing his lute late into the evening, Eli rested and cast the occasional glance in the direction of their destination. He wondered with bright eyes what story Adeha'l had to tell tomorrow.

The two of them passed the night, taking turns on watch. Eli was accustomed to the system already, having grown up as a street urchin in Pavicele's slums. When he ran with other orphaned kids, they often needed to watch for town guards when squatting. Eli was always the first to assume watch duty. Usually, he would go most of the night without any sleep at all, only catching a few winks when the sun rose and he believed the gang was safe. If he did it too many nights in a row, Kellum would get upset...

Kel.

Eli awoke with a fright and gasped for air. He expected to be lying beneath a wooden roof filled with holes and sitting on a thin mat of rotting straw. Instead, he was leaning against a solid rock and beneath a vast blue sky. Warm air filled his lungs and the wasteland came back to him.

When did I fall asleep? 

"G'morning, sweet prince!" Mikael piped up from behind.

Eli glanced over to see the man kneeling by the campfire, holding a tin cup in both hands. The sweet aroma of tea roused Eli from any remaining slumber.

With the new day having begun, Eli and Mikael packed up camp and descended the cliffs. After a few hours of walking, they arrived at Adeha'l when the sun was nearing its peak.

To hear Mikael tell it, Adeha'l was once a thriving settlement, but it was reduced to a struggling hamlet about a decade ago. When it was first founded, the town set itself apart from other settlements by using dressed ashlar stones as the masonry of its buildings, as opposed to the more economic rubble masonry that new hamlets opt for. Adeha'l could afford the lavish architectural leap because they were perfectly situated near a soft stone deposit to the south, by the lake. In time, the deposit became Adeha'l's most valuable resource and a quarry allowed for rapid mining. Exporting the stone as a commodity placed Adeha'l on the map.

But now, the town was desolate. The finely cut bricks were crumbling away, softened by the intrusion of salt. Shoddy repair jobs of mud and clay sufficed for missing stones to seal homes. For the abandoned buildings, wooden roofs were caving in or weren't there at all anymore, absent above the hilts and capstones. While citizens remained, few of them looked cheery and Eli noticed that any chatter among them was barely above a whisper.

Exactly what caused the town to fall on hard times is what Mikael wanted to know, but the bard had no intention of getting the answer himself.

"Only one inn here," the minstrel said as he and Eli entered the town from the north. "Leave our lodgings to me. Put yer Guild skills to work and keep an ear to the ground until sunset. The inn should be near the center o' town, just off the square. You should try the market strip here on the north end. Well... it's not much of a strip anymore."

"What if I don't learn anything useful?" Eli asked, feeling disjointed about being thrown into the deep end so quickly.

With a chuckle, Mikael spun around on his heel and walked backward with his arms out. "Then you don't learn anything! Relax, lad, these things don't work themselves out all in a day. We'll be here awhile yet, I'm sure."

Without another word, Mikael turned back around and headed off toward the center of town. Eli slowed his pace until he came to a stop and looked around.

"Okay," he murmured to himself. "Now what?" He hadn't expected adventuring to be so... free-form.

Mikael was right. The market strip wasn't much to look at it. There were a few stalls that seemed to be doing okay, but they were the ones selling dried foods and jarred preservatives that could withstand the climate. Any shoppers, or the handful of them that were out in the street at all, gravitated around these necessary shops. The merchants that looked ready to give up were the ones selling commodities like jewelry and other items too far out of the price range for the people living here. These stall owners looked to be foreign though, given their more temporary setups. If they bothered stopping here in Adeha'l at all, it was probably for a temporary layover before or after crossing the border.

Maybe they thought they'd try their luck with the locals? It didn't seem to be working out for them.

There was one merchant's stall in particular that attracted Eli's eye. Light fabrics of varying, vibrant colors were laid out over a wooden counter. They were exotic clothes that reminded Eli of the costumes he would wear for dancing at the Château. Beside each matching set of the silks were jewelry of differing metals, arranged in a way that complimented the intricately woven golds or silvers of the garments' seams.

Convincing himself a quick jaunt of browsing wouldn't be a waste of time, he stepped over to the stall to get a closer look. The shop's keeper was an olive-skinned woman with long black hair that fell behind her shoulders. She wore what all the travelling merchants and Eli were wearing: tan clothes from head-to-toe that kept them cool in the desert heat. Beside her was a... slave?

Just over the merchant's shoulder, stood a lanky man with long auburn hair tied into a pony tail. He had bronzed skinned, narrow eyes that scrutenized Eli up and down, and the iconic animal-like ears of a chimera. A dexterous tail flicked behind him as Eli approached his master's stall. It's thin and narrow shape declared the man as a member of the cat-like felimera; one of the three subspecies of the chimera.

Normally, Eli wouldn't be so shocked to see one of his kind, as they were everywhere, but in the Empire, they weren't allowed to carry weapons or wear armor. Being from Pavicile, Eli was an imperial citizen, so every chimera he knew served under a human master. They always kept their eyes downward, their mouths shut, and obeyed the orders of their human superiors. And unless they were assisting in a kitchen, a chimera even wielding a knife was a death sentence. But this one... He wore a single yellow tunic over bronze-tinted chain mail. A thick leather strap over his chest and shoulder suspended a hefty greatsword behind his back. And the way he looked at Eli marked the boy as someone unworthy of his respect, as if he retained the right to give it.

"Mind your gaze, human," the chimera warned him. His voice was deep and his words carried with an unreserved confidence that commanded Eli's attention.

No. This chimera was not a slave. Eli definitely wasn't in the Empire anymore.

While the human merchant regarded Eli with a welcoming upturn of her lips, the chimera that clearly served as her bodyguard stared the boy down with an intense glare.

"Welcome, miss," the merchant said. With an elegant wave of her hand, she gave a presenting gesture above her wears. "You'll find here some of the finest silks and linens of Sarijah."

Sarijah?

"Where is that?" Eli asked.

The woman blinked for a moment after Eli asked her the question. When she realized her expression betrayed her surprise, she said, "O-oh, uh... forgive me, sir. I had taken you for a- No, never mind.

"To answer your question...," she said, pushing past the awkwardness. "It lies on the island of Nasir, at the southern foot of the Mehrians. It is our home. We aim to cross the border into the Empire and trade with the masilandi, the travelers from a distant star."

Though Eli was new to the world outside Pavicile, he wasn't so naive as to have not heard of the travelers. She called them the masilandi, but the imperials knew them as Tellans. Mikael said Eli might run into them with them one day, but that wouldn't be for a while yet.

"It will probably take us about another month's time to get there. After already traveling for two and crossing the Riah, I had hoped to begin recouping some of our expenses. But I'm afraid Adeha'l isn't the best place to do so."

If she came to Adeha'l without fully realizing how desolate the town had become, she may know nothing of value to Eli and Mikael's investigation.

With a scowl, the felimera let out an impatient huff. "Are you going to stand there or buy something, human?" he demanded.

Holding a steady hand before her loyal guard, the merchant said, "Easy, Ienjiro. We talked about this. You can't force people to buy things. You have to invite them." She then looked to Eli. "I'll tell you what, traveler: help us out a little and I'll make it worth your while.

"We have enough supplies to leave Adeha'l and make it to Callon if we make straight for the border, but we'll be stuck if we haven't the coin to pay the fee for setting up a stall."

"You have to pay to sell your goods?" Eli asked, genuinely unaware that was a thing.

The woman nodded. "Most large settlements have mercantile guilds that are funded by such an arrangement. The fee also helps weed out less savory merchants from peddling cheap goods, and income eventually makes its way back into the local economies. It's a fair arrangement. Anyway, we only need about twenty more lora to cover Callon's fee. The cheapest of these garments easily costs twice that much, but... I'll sell you a complete set for twenty. A dashing young man like you surely knows a pretty girl back home that would appreciate something like this, no?"

A groan from Ienjiro betrayed his disapproval.

"Oh, uh, I'm afraid I can't," replied Eli with a pleading smile. "I'm a little short on coin right now."

The woman's smile faded for a moment, but it sprang back a second later with all the positivity of an optimistic merchant. "Oh, a pity," she said. "Well, we won't be going anywhere for the foreseeable future, so you know where to find me."

Eli offered a kind wave to them and turned to continue down the strip. After taking a few steps, he immediately spotted a man with his back to the corner of a building ahead. The hood of his tan cloak was drawn over his head, but by how he leaned to peek around the corner, Eli could see the steeled resolve in his eyes. The man was a thief... and he found a mark.

As a sort of unofficial member of the Thieves Guild in Pavicele, and having pickpocketed countless fat cats in the city markets himself, Eli honestly wasn't of a mind to stop the man. In fact, the boy chose to stand by where he was and just... watch.

Following the man's eyes, Eli spotted the likely mark. It was a tall fellow wearing all-white robes. He was having to duck slightly under the cloth canopy of a dried food stall as he bartered with the merchant. His outer cloak fell completely around both sides of him, so if he was carrying a coin pouch on his belt, it was hidden from view. If Eli were the thief, he wouldn't make a move right now. Even if he knew where on his person the man's pouch was, he'd have to move the cloak out of the way to snatch it.

Wait, Eli pretended to coach.

The thief held his breath and remained where he was.

When the mark and merchant shared a laugh together, the thief started to lightly bounce on the balls of his feet. He was getting anxious.

Wait.

Finally, the tall man lowered his right arm and pulled aside his cloak, revealing a sizeable leather pouch strung from a belt at his waist.

Start moving.

The thief stepped out from behind his corner and stiffly walked as quickly as he could down the street. He slowed his pace as he approached the stall. This was the riskiest step. He has to make the grab whenever the mark has already made his payment. Because then, the merchant will be counting the coins and will likely provide change. Thus, while the mark is distracted with completing the purchase, he'll leave his cloak aside and keep the purse in the open.

Steady now.

As the mark loosened his purse and retrieved some coin, the thief blended in behind him, keeping a safe distance. He pretended to look elsewhere so as to not draw attention. As the merchant received the payment, the thief took a quiet step closer to his mark and, with only three fingers, delicately and quickly loosened the simple leather strap suspending the purse from the belt.

It was a simple three-step move. He freed the purse, swung it away so it didn't strike the leg, and then quietly beat feet. Not even the merchant saw what happened as he was too busy counting out his customer's payment. When the exchange was finally completed, the tall man in the robes went to close up his coin purse and only then realized it was gone. Most notice when the hefty weight of their purse suddenly vanishes, but this one must have been a little dense. He actually started looking on the ground, like the strap must have broke and the purse simply fell.

Eli chuckled at the sight.

Getting a better look at the confused man, now that he was out from under the shade of the canopy, Eli saw he had a youthful face with rosy cheeks, a strong jawline, and rounded chin. His light brown hair was cut short and his banes barely hid a bronze circlet. He had a look about him that screamed obliviousness, but Eli couldn't judge him for that. It seemed they were both strangers in a foreign land. Only, Eli at least had street smarts... and far better awareness.

Should I tell him what happened? Eli briefly pondered.

No. He'll just have to live and learn.

Eli carried on through the small market, spending several hours patiently and sometimes awkwardly conversing with the merchants that were largely disinterested in his queries. No one seemed to want to talk about the town to an outsider, and those that did speak up to mention how bad things were only did so to complain and offered nothing of value. Either the origin of their ten-year-long plight was lost on them, or it was something they'd rather avoid talking about.

As the late afternoon heat rose to unbearable levels, the merchants all began to close up shop. Most put away a lot of what they put out that morning, if not all of it. Tired, hot, and with heads hung low, the stall owners of Adeha'l's strip market dispersed. Residents returned to their dilapidated homes, while the traveling merchants headed one of two directions, toward the center of town or toward a cluster of tents on the north end.

Eli decided now was as good a time as any to find Mikael and get out of the heat. Hopefully that inn he was hoping to revisit was still open and the happy-go-lucky bard secured their rooms.

The walk through town took longer than Eli expected. Mikael was right that, at one time, Adeha'l was a promising settlement. It could have become a full city had it been given more time to grow. What was small about it now was its population; and, jointly, wealth. But many of the buildings erected when Adeha'l was developing were still around. They were less run down toward the center of town, but most were still abandoned, shuttered up long ago.

When Eli entered the square, he was but one of a few people outside. The plaza was a wide open space, laid out with tan brick. There was a lone statue in the very center, carved of white limestone; or, at least, half of one. Only a pair of legs remained. The upper body was broken clean off at the waist. There was no way to tell whom it once depicted. Even the base of the statue was in complete disrepair. Salt had long since degraded the stone, fading away the lone plaque that marked the monument.

One building situated on the plaza stood apart from the others, both in size and activity. The alluring smell of food pulled Eli toward it and his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten a damn thing all day. It was a feeling he should have been used to, but hunger in this heat was another beast entirely. 

The boy couldn't read the signage above the building's door, but the faded white image of a beast holding a pickaxe mid-swing told him he must have found the Stone Troll. He didn't take the name to mean a stone-mining troll when he first heard it, but even the pubs in Pavicele had their funny names and stories behind them.

Passing through the open threshold, he felt cool air caress his sun-kissed cheeks and immediately closed his eyes to take in the comforting relief. The smell of meat and bread coming from a kitchen somewhere pulled him further in, and then he recognized the sound of Mikael's lute. He opened his eyes again and found the bard seated in one of the back corners. Never one to mind his manners, the man had his boots kicked up on his table and he leaned his chair back on its hind legs, supported only by the wall behind him. His feathered cavalier hat sat on the table beside a wooden mug. The curls of his raven hair were a bit matted from wearing the hat so much during their trip. Eli wanted to fluff it out a little... and then maybe yank on it in return for having Eli spend all day in the heat while his lazy ass kicked back in the tavern.

Mikael gave the boy a nod and wink when their eyes met and Eli felt his eye twitch in annoyance. He moved over to take an open seat at the bard's table, which was set up near a short wooden stage at one time meant for bards like Mikael to perform on for the entertainment of the patrons. But, presumably, with the town's wealth dried up, the innkeeper let the stage gather dust.

Most of the customers on the tavern floor were the traveling merchants Eli saw from the strip. A few looked to be locals, though. He could pick them out by the dirt on their faces and their sullen frowns.

"What'd you learn, lad?" Mikael asked as he continued playing.

Eli gave a shrug and simply shook his head.

"Don't sweat it. As I said, these things don't work themselves out all in a day."

"I don't know if this will work itself out at all," Eli said. "No one here wants to talk about the town. They have their complaints, but... either they don't care or don't want to know."

Mikael smirked. "Or they know, but don't want to tell."

Eli glanced sideways at him. "Oh, so you weren't just sitting here and plucking your strings all day?"

"Gimme some credit, boy," Mikael said. "I've traveled the world and seen things the likes of which would make you wet yer pants. I know a curse when I sense one, and Adeha'l... is bloody cursed."

"If you sensed that, then you could have said something at the start."

"Would it have helped ye to run around town, tellin' people to their face that the reason they're down on their luck is that they're cursed? Lad, to be cursed is to be forsaken by the astrals. I doubt you'd get a pleasant reception."

Eli sighed and glowered. He still felt like he wasted a whole day for nothing.

"Tell me what you saw out there," Mikael said.

As the minstrel continued to play his songs for the tavern's patrons, Eli quietly recounted his walk through the strip. He described the state of the town's infrastructure, that the merchants could hardly sell what they needed to get by, and that people have taken to stealing from hapless travelers. And, of course, Eli described how everyone just looked utterly defeated.

"Defeated," Mikael softly repeated. "Now that's an apt word. Yes, I agree, boy. Defeated, desolate, and destitute, and so they have become despondent and depressed."

"Ugh, slow down with the words," Eli chastised. "You know I can't keep up when you go off on tangents like that."

Mikael chuckled. He used his boot to push his mug over to Eli, offering him a drink. The boy took it and stared into the cup at the fading froth atop a dark caramel liquid. Eli only ever had wine before, and that was at the Château. He only drank it because some patrons would offer him a glass from time-to-time. It would have been rude to turn them down, so he learned to swallow fast and wear a poker face to hide his distaste for pungent flavor. As for ale, mead, or beer, he'd never tried any of it.

Eli took a quick breath and closed his eyes. He raised the mug to his lips and knocked back a quick sip. It was... surprisingly sweeter than wine. Butter, caramel, something nutty... When he swallowed, it had a far different aftertaste from wine, too.

"Would you like your own mug?" Mikael asked, seeing the obvious attraction on Eli's face.

"Uh... I-"

Mikael stopped strumming for a moment to grab his coin purse from beneath his poncho. He then tossed the heavy pouch onto the table. The sound of coins clinking announced the bard's wealth boldly to the whole room. A few heads turned to eye the pouch, and some of those gazes lingered longer than appropriate.

"Wow, you don't know the first thing about subtlety, do you?" Eli asked him with a frown.

"Good thing I have you around then," Mikael replied with a grin. As he resumed playing, he said, "You be the coin keeper from now on. I was already thinkin' you'd be more responsible than me anyhow. And you tend to attract less attention."

Eli pulled the pouch close to him and then back down below the table, out of eyesight. As he tied it to the belt beneath his own poncho, he asked, "How much do we have, anyway?"

"Last count? Uh... seventy lora."

At fifty coins per pound, the estimate felt about right. However... "Imperial coins only?" Eli asked. "But we're in Dominion territory now."

"I doubt the townsfolk'll complain. Especially being so close to the border."

With the pouch secured and tucked beneath his outer garments, Eli stood up from the table and walked across the tavern floor. He still felt some eyes on him, but unlike the fool in the strip earlier, he wasn't going to be an easy mark for pickpockets.

As he approached the bar counter, Eli saw that the barkeep, an old white-haired man barely tall enough to see over the top of his own bar, was already conversing with someone. Eli waited patiently behind the customer. He was a tall, white-cloaked, brown-haired young man wearing a... bronze circlet...

Him again?

It was the traveler robbed in broad daylight. He seemed to be pleading with the barkeep, but the little old man was having none of it. A hardened expression was deflecting the traveler's words like a sturdy wall.

"I understand," the young man eventually said, keeping his voice low. "Thank you for your time, good sir. Indelum stateri."

The man started to turn away, but when at first the barkeep seemed unmoved by the traveler's pleas, his expression suddenly softened and the old coot looked almost guilty.

"Ah, hold on a moment, son," said the barkeep, placing a calloused hand on the counter. "I can't very well let an acolyte of Azra sleep out in the elements. Look, I still need to run a business here, so giving a room to someone without coin is out of the question, but... there's a storeroom behind the kitchen with an old cot."

The traveler turned back to the older man. Relief in his eyes, he replied, "Please! An old cot will do. I will gladly accept such kindness."

Fuck.

If guilt nibbled at the barkeep, it was devouring Eli.

"How much for a room?" the boy asked as he stepped up to the counter.

The old man looked at Eli, confused.  "What? Aren't you with Micky?"

"Mick-? Er, yeah. I'm with the lovable bard in the corner."

"Then your room's already paid for, boy."

Eli thumbed toward the traveler. "Not for me. For him."

The traveler interjected, waving both hands. "Oh! No, please! I cannot accept."

"I owe you at least this much," Eli mumbled, unable to look the man in the eye.

"S-sorry?"

The barkeep sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "For your lora? Five per night, two per meal. And no use arguing. Imperial coins are only half gold, unlike Nasirian abazi."

"Fine," said Eli.

"No, please!" insisted the traveler. To the old man, he pleaded, "Sir, I beg you to reject the offer."

The barkeep looked between Eli and the taller man, but as he opened his mouth to say something, Eli cut in first.

"You were robbed because I did nothing," Eli blurted out. He saw the traveler fully turn toward him out of the corner of his eye. The barkeep seemed at a loss for words, so he simply shut his mouth and found a not-so-dirty mug to start cleaning.

There was a painfully awkward silence between all three of them. Eli waited for the stranger to become angry and lash out; maybe raise his voice, or even grab the boy by his poncho and shake him. But... he didn't do that. Eventually, the man said with a chilling calm that was somehow even worse than anger:

"I decline your offer."