FSE

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Despite assurances otherwise, it was nearing midday when the ferry had finally docked in Tarrensford, a fact the traveler would have bemoaned, were he not simply grateful to be on solid land once again. No more wagons, no more ferries, no horses, or carriages, or caravans. He had arrived, and that meant some respite from the rigors of the road, but that did not mean he could rest. Far from it; now that he was there, the real work was then to begin. Still, he allowed himself a meager enjoyment in taking in the town for the first time. Almost always, the first days were the best. People were friendly to him, and he could be friendly back. Everything was fresh and new, and he was afforded moments to appreciate it all, for the simple pleasures it afforded.

Tarrensford was a small town, as were most that the Traveler visited in his work. It was small to the point that it could hardly be deemed a town at all, but rather a smattering of farms and ranches, tied together into a village by a handful of homely buildings built near the water. A Venture Guild outpost that managed the transportation of goods out and to more populated areas, a general store sat right next to it, an inn and tavern, and, of course, a chapel. Interestingly enough though, he noticed that it bore the markings of at least three different religions, as well as two symbols he didn't recognize but might have served for faiths unknown to him, a place where the neighbors of this hamlet could come and worship together, regardless of beliefs. Briefly, he allowed himself to wonder, as he passed it on his way to the tavern, whether this was due to some sort of social enlightenment, or because they simply couldn't afford to build separate chapels.

The inn and tavern, itself, was the second grandest structure in Tarrensford, following the guildshop. Which was not to say it was at all impressive, in the least. Built of a simple cobblestone foundation, built up two stories with sawn timbers harvested from nearby woodlands and lashed together with rope, with pale clay used both as mortar and to fill the holes. Yet, for its quaint appearance, it was not lacking in commodities. The main room was large, massive in fact, that it could no doubt hold every man woman and child in town, as well as a sizable caravan to boot. The tables and chairs were of carved wood, polished to a shine, and comfortable to just look at, as a hearth burned softly with a fire that could warm the weariest of travelers. The bar was burnished oak, dark and glimmering in the firelight, an obvious point of pride, while the shelves behind it were lined with bottles and barrels of drink. From somewhere in the back wafted the scent of a stew, rich with dairy, herbs, sweet vegetables, and salted meat. The place reeked of welcome and fellowship, as if it were more a home than a rest stop for people on the road or a place for tired workers to get drunk.

A part of the traveler's mind told him that this was a sad thing. That sooner rather than later, whatever welcome he was gifted would be worn out, and this happy home for the people of Tarrensford would be, warm and inviting as it is, would become as a den of vipers for him. However, worn of body and of spirit, he had no desire to indulge that part of his mind, and permitted himself to bask in the glow.

Several men stood at one end of the bar, townsfolk, sipping a dark ale and sharing words, and laughs, and smiles between themselves and the barkeep thereby, who crossed behind the bar to attend to the traveler who sat at the opposite end from them. Fair of skin, thin of body, with shoulder-length hair as dark as the wood of the the bar he kept, the man shared that same smile he used with his kinfolk with the traveler, genuine, as he pulled a draft of the same ale into a stone mug and placed it in front of the newcomer, leaning against that oaken surface. "New face," that voice, as warm as the hearth, "obviously not part of any caravan or the guild. Must mean you're here on personal business, am I right?"

"... Something like that." No-longer-gray offered, managing a small smile of his own, staring warily at the drink in front of him that he did not order."

"Well, welcome to Tarrensford, friend. Enjoy!" the barkeep pushed the mug towards him, "On the house."

"You're too generous, Jorg!" Called one of the men from the other end, chuckling in good-natured mirth, in a familiarity that suggested this was a subject often addressed. "You'll go broke if you keep doing that."

"I take care of myself just fine. Besides," Jorg gave the traveler a good look with eyes like onyx, eyes that smiled the same smile upon his lips, "I know a man who needs a free drink when I see one. Just the one though; I am running a business, after all."

A round of laughter rose at that from all but No-longer-gray who simply wore that weak smile."Then I'll give you business. If that stew I smell is ready, I'd love a bowl to go with this ale, and some bread would be nice."

"Then you shall have it!" With that, the boisterous barkeep disappeared into the back room, behind the bar, and the men across the way returned to their conversation. The traveler all but glared at the mug, loathe to even look at the alcoholic drink, but even more so to refuse the gift. As Jorg returned with a steaming bowl and a plate with a loaf of warm bread and butter, he made a show of taking a sip of it, determined not to grimace. He was surprised to find it had a rather fruity bouquet, and was palatable to even his tongue; it even just barely wrenched his empty stomach, and he was sure that the food would even rid him of _that_trouble. Managing a mouthful of the stuff, he slid he coin in payment across the wood and set to the meal. To Jorg's credit, he was not short on manners, as he left the traveler to his stew and returned to the townsfolk, not even yet retrieving the coin.

Dishes empty, even the mug, the traveler reclined in his chair, feeling worlds better, with just the right amount of warm haze settling into his mind from the surprisingly potent, yet tolerable ale. It was then the barkeep reappeared, still with that endearing grin. "Anything else I can get you, sur? Another drink, perhaps? Maybe a bed for the night, if you're staying?"

"Hmm, can't say." No-longer-gray replied, finding his own smile coming a lot easier now. "Not sure how long I'll be around. Could be just for the day, could be for longer... could be for a lot longer."

"Oh? What sort of business keeps a man around for a time as not even he knows how long? If you don't mind me asking."

It was simple enough talk, innocent curiosity, but the traveler then knew just how much the drink had loosened his tongue. Not enough to be dangerous, but too much for comfort. "Family business. You know how it is; kin need you around, you stay as long as you're needed, for however long may be."

"Family?" The barkeep seemed to brighten at that. "You've family in Tarrensford?"

"Yep, sure do. A cousin, and his wife. Well, not quite _in_Tarrensford; they live quite a ways out, in the sticks, just moved there. In fact, they live closer to Eldswood than Tarrensford, but the ferry doesn't go that far." The traveler scratched his head casually, weaving the lie with far more ease than he liked, but such was the need of his work. "Truth be told, he was supposed to meet me at the ferry, but he never showed. Think he might've forgotten which day I was coming in. Boy never did have a mind for time, you see? Guess I'll have to go look for him."

"Well, that's no good. There's a lot of space between here and Eldswood, you aren't likely to find the place on your own without any idea just where it is."

"He mentioned some neighbors he met once that he had over. Folk in a little ol' shack, had a little girl with pale, yellow-brown hair, but real green eyes. Mayhaps they can help me find him? You know them?"

A stillness fell over the room at those words, conversation and mirth now gone, that the only sound was the soft crackling of the flame in the fireplace. The men from across the bar stared at him with stone faces, and Jorg lost that smile for the first time, replaced with something akin to trepidation, or even fear.

"You mean Merrin...." His voice was leaden as he spoke. "What business has your cousin with Merrin?"

"Hmm? Merrin? Is that the girl's name?" The traveler spoke calmly and gently, as one would with a skittish animal. "I wouldn't know. Like I said, he just moved in over there, doesn't know anybody, probably just looking to make company."

"Couldn't pick worse company to make." Arose that voice from before, the man who had teased Jorg from his generosity. "You find your cousin, you'd best tell him to stay away from them."

"... Why? What's wrong with them?"

The man seemed about to say something but the barkeep cut him off with a gesture. "Not our place to say.... Listen, I'll tell you where they live, so as you can find this cousin of yours, but I suggest you don't even so much as talk to them. Just... try looking for your kin's place on your own. Sten's right too, about telling your cousin to stay away from them; you'd be doing your family a favor."

The traveler cast his eyes over the group of men at the back, who still looked at him with those stone faces, then back to Jorg whose expression showed a hint of concern for his newest acquaintance. "... Alright, I'll let him know, thank you."

***

The directions were easy enough, as was the shack to find, off and by itself, far and away from any other farm or house. It was nearing dusk when he saw it crop up against the horizon, a huddled mass of sticks and straw, looking near to fall over at any moment to the point that he wondered if the residents feared as much as a gust of wind. He simply stood there, keeping his distance, watching as the sun set and darkness fell. A soft firelight seeped from underneath what passed for a door, black smoke coiling from a hole in the roof, but he saw no one enter or leave for the hours he observed. Nothing odd happened, no strange noises or lights, no peculiarities at all, but his masters had sent him here for a reason. The townsfolk feared the people within for a reason. He was there for a reason.

Clutching his cloak tight around him, he entered a nearby grove of trees, just within sight of the hut, and lay himself down for the night. His work demanded speed, but also patience; tomorrow, he would begin to excavate that reason.