"Why is this place so secure?" Sylva implored.

"This used to be part of Corcilium, once upon a time. The nobles oppressed the poor villagers. They were growing sick and tired of their hard-earned coin disappear into the nobles purchases, so they started a new village and broke off their segment of land and destroyed some of it, cutting off their village from the Dwarven Capital, and that land is where Vocans now stands. This place used to be a noble's house, but in his will he wanted his home to be turned into a beautiful inn, for he had no children or heirs. Or at least according to legend. This was over a thousand years ago, so I'm not completely certain" Drake explained

"I take it you guys want lunch?" Drake asked, seemingly out of the blue. They all nodded vigorously, noticing that they hadn't eaten since yesterday. Drake chucked. "I could hear your stomachs." 

Sylva blushed while the three boys joined in on his laughter. Drake led them to the bar, weaving in between the sturdy tables. Many people raised a mug of beer at them, grinning. Everyone seemed to be cheerful here, probably because the Orcs wouldn't find this place or if they did, destroy it. But pangs of sadness hid behind their laughter, for the Majikras inn couldn't hold everyone. Lots of people were going to die. Lots.

"Randy!! Come get this kids some food!" Drake called. 

"Can they pay?" A booming voice asked, probably Randy.

"C'mon! It's their first time! You know the first timer rule," The bearded man countered. An affirmative grunt came from the depths of the kitchen as the sound of clattering dishes resounded through the tavern.

After a few minutes, a portly man emerged with four platters, each heaped with mashed potatoes, roasted asparagus, a little crude gravy bowl, and an enormous slab of pork belly. Drake ushered them to a table as Ronald set down the food. Ronald put down a few pints and a keg. 

"Enjoy!" He said, bustling back towards the kitchen. 

"I'll leave you guys to it," Drake said as he left the room. Fletcher discreetly summoned Ignatius, who greedily devoured half the food, earning a glare from his master and a laugh from the Elf across from them. Othello sipped some beer.

"That's the first beer I've had at a human tavern that doesn't taste like horse piss," He remarked incredulously. 

"That's because it's Dwarven beer!" Seraph told him, showing him the label on the keg as they laughed. After a few minutes  of laughter and food, they scanned the room for their bearded friend. They couldn't find Drake, so they went to the bar. The bartender looked at them, happy to have more customers.

"How can I help you fellas?" He asked. 

"How much is a room for the night?" Ignatius' master said, hand creeping towards his bag of coins.

"Five shillings for a small room, fifteen for a large. Five sovereigns for a premium room, and it fits all of you comfortably. Plus, free meals for a week if you stay premium." The bartender answered. 

"We'll take two smalls." Fletcher said. "We won't be here long." He slid ten shillings onto the bar.

The man grinned. "Don't pay me, pay the guy on the second floor!" He said, taking a long draught from his beer.

The group thanked him and headed for the staircase, but as they approached, Fletcher's arm was grabbed by a cloaked man.

"Hey!" Fletcher yelped, trying to dislodge the man's hand. However, the man had a grip of steel so Ignatius' master's attempts were fruitless. The others drew their weapons, all pointed at the man. Strangely, no one apart from them payed attention.

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