Deltan relaxed as well as they approached the crowds. There were more people, true, but they were dangers that Deltan could see and confront. Slinking shadows were troublesome; this was much better. Only now in a crowd did he take a care for his coin purse, tugging his cloak to cover it but not his sword. That stayed on display for the benefit of those around the pair.
Deltan looked up at the large building, surprised at its sheer size in comparison with the buildings around it. Most of Sunberth was built squat to the ground. This inn, called "The Drunken Fish," dwarfed the buildings around it. Impressive, for this city, but nothing at all like the grandeur of Syliras. It was a bit nationalist of him to think so, but Deltan could hardly imagine anyone thinking Sunberth was much to look at.
The young man noted one of the men leering at Mirian, and gave him a look that he hoped seemed harsh. Really, it was more like a boyish glare, and Deltan unfortunately knew it. Only once they were past him did Deltan realize that he'd felt protective of his companion for the evening. Not just protective of her safety, but protective of the fact that she was in his company. It made a little smile cross his features before fading away.
Despite the noise and stench, Deltan felt quite at home. He had grown up among the poorer parts of his town, and had gone into establishments like this from time to time. Had even worked in one a few times, unloading crates and kegs. It was familiar, unlike the shady quiet of the Pig's Foot. Tilting his head down a bit to hear Mirian better, he glanced over to where he supposed the bar was.
A faint, thoughtful frown crossed his features as he noticed two distinct kinds of workers. One wore common clothes, served drinks, and generally did their job. Bartender and barmaids, clearly. The other group wore poorer, more heavily mended clothes. THey moved just as quickly, though many had eyes down or had a furtiveness to their step that spoke of fear. What was wrong with them? They worked alongside the others, but clearly lived less comfortable lives.
Deltan dismissed them for the moment, for now taking the lead with Mirian. He moved to lead her over to one of the bar keepers after nodding in assent at her words. Speaking loudly to be heard, he half-shouted, "How much for a room?" Then, after receiving a few different prices for different qualities--all spoken in that Sunberthen accent that required a little more thought to understand than in his native land--he held up a couple golden mizas for a room for themselves. Judging from the character of those around him, he did not want to end up robbed blind by someone sleeping in the same common area. Deltan wasn't that foolish.
That done, he tried to guide Mirian upstairs after the barkeeper, trying to puzzle out the best way to get out of her expectations of sharing his bed. He could have eliminated that by picking the cheap room, but he did not want to offend her...Or be robbed blind. Regardless, he now had to figure out what to do. Maybe he could keep her talking all night? That might do; she really seemed to like foreign places. |
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