Open [Rearing Stallion] Making ground work

[Fallon]

65th Spring 517 AV
Early Afternoon

It was quickly becoming apparent as to why Fallon did not like Syliras. A tickling of a memory that seemed to grow into a sense of dread. Stone walls, closed in bodies, the noise ever rumbling against her ears. It cause a sense of claustrophobia, restraining and pressing against her physically. On a more mental notion it struck out against the piles of laws, the authority placed down by those above.

And there, somewhere, was a lingering taste of regret. The knighthood, squirehood and a drive to stay out of the way as much as possible. Stay out of the gaze of the iron clad sentinels and hope none of them recognise her. The very thought of them looking down at her, no doubt they would perceive she had crawled back for a second chance - but that, of course, was far from the case. She had her own reasons for returning and begrudgingly brought herself into residence in the city.

Find Zachiel Eyvino. Strangle him for answers.

Her first port of call was stabling and lodgings, the first being the more immediate with the nature of Javil and the growing swelling around his hoof. Even she did not have to be a professional in the field of medicine to notice something was wrong. After that her various belongings and loads were hauled up to the travellers row, a simple double room claimed and paid for until at least the end of the season, before - begrudgingly- the woman ventured out into the city.

The first thing that hit her was the heat. The second being the grumbled and hungry looks in the faces of others. It was enough to give her pause, a cautious tap to her belt and her Kukri while she walked. Everything else hung around her, creating a scruffy visage of a traveller having just entered the city, mind calculating into what she now was.

So, what am I? Not the Inspector. Not a mercenary either. Body guard? For who? Hunter? No, ridiculous. Courier? Writer? .. scholar?

Her shoulders gave a small roll of movement, nostrils flaring to the faint grumbles of noise. Even her hairs gave a prickle, anticipation and recognising. A spark before the oil, she had seen all this before. But here of all places? An almost sense of dread locked into her stomach as she forced herself to march onwards between the bodies and mind her own business.

No, it was best to stay out of the way and blend in with the crowds. Shake off the feeling of being a foreigner and simply disappear. From there the world would open up and all sorts of avenues of intel would become available to her. And information was the real reason she was here. Find it, gather it, move on.

Still, she found it hard to avoid sliding around the various haunts of the city. Lingering only briefly, in places to allow the memories to graze the surface before submerging once more. At least until she managed to get stuck before the tavern. In honesty she had eyeballed it down the street from a distance, her mind whispering to believe that it was indeed parched, that she had earned a drink. She had travelled hard for the season, what was the harm in relaxing a little now?

There was the smallest pause when she pressed on the door, a puff of cheeks being the telling sign of thought before she continued on through. A few mumbles of patrons, grumbling and contemplating their navels for all Fallon cared. She was not working, why should she pry into their issues and complaints? Neigh, she would use them to her own means. With her head down, no one seemed to pay her much mind as she took a perch at the bar and placed down a few silvers. All smiles to the barkeep, she spoke with her rolling accent, "Drink. Ale. Surprise me on the sort. Please?"

She watched the tankard be slammed down and be filled. It was some golden coloured froth that she did not focus too hard on. It was her own words continued, "Say, I'm not too familiar with Syliras. So if I was looking for someone where would you recommend?"
"As in, someone missing? Could always speak to the knights I suppose."
"No, no. More... checking if they're in town."

Though, I suppose you could arguably say missing from life.

[Kara Vanis]

Kara had decided that the Rearing Stallion would be the place to visit. Although, to her visiting such a place would cause more of a scandal to her mind than it would to a normal person. But, the sense of danger true or no made it seem fun in a slightly wicked sort of way. She had found a table and slid in and tried to take a look around the room with out appearing that she was staring at the locals, so to speak.

She had caught one of the staff and placed her order and now was sipping a drink and enjoying her day feeling rather cunning about the whole thing. Of course, the patrons would likely feel otherwise if they could read her mind, but, even she had the good sense to not point these things out as she took in the scene around her vaguely wondering what these people did with their day. All of the time, how boring it most be and she gave a little pity sigh for all of them.

She of course could think of better things to do with her time, but none of them were pressing and if the simple fault seemed to find this sort of thing entertaining she would see what it was about. After all, what else did she have to do with her time. The irony of her life was of course lost on Kara, if who asked would in fact tell any of the patrons that she held a great deal of pity for them and show vapid and shallow their lives must be , doing the same things time and again with no real reason behind them other than they thought it was something they ought to be doing.

For now she decide to focus on the people near the counter, they seemed to be engaged in something at least. What she could only imagine. But so long as they managed to find some way to be productive to society they could be discussing the slaughter of live stock and she would be happy to let them be. People did discuss that right? How to kill farm creatures.

[Fallon]

The barkeep hummed, the tankard being slid across with one hand. It was with the other Fallon nudged the silver over. In reality the drink was considerably immaterial, it was merely a method in which to grab and hold the barkeep's attention long enough to pay some mind. With the exchange made she was a patron, and therefore worthy of attention - more so if coin was to continue flowing. The traveller slurped her drink while the barkeep spoke, "Depends, if it's finding in regards to a business then anyone can give you directions. If it's someone else, well... best I can suggest is asking around by name."
"I see," Fallon let the off bitter taste swirl around her mouth before swallowing, "No place where records are kept?"

The barkeep laughed then, taking up a rag to wipe down other tankards, "Like a census? Nah, I imagine only the knights will have access to those. And I don't think they're going to hand them out to just anyone."
She exhaled, hiding it in her drink as she took another slurp. She should have known better really, the knights were the law, the organised and the holders of all. With such natures before them she doubted they would simply let her access such details without reason. She could, she reasoned, present a case to them as to why - but what evidence did she have to aid her in this?

Another, deeper slurp, her eyes narrowing with contemplation. The barkeep continued to hum, the faint squeak of noise rumbling throughout the tankard. The keep continued, "Beyond the knights, most I can suggest is maybe asking at the lodgings. Though, I imagine a lot of them value client privacy."
"It's a line of thought to follow," Fallon mused. There was a polite raise of the glass in thanks, "Cheers."

And with that the Barkeep was off to another client, leaving Fallon to observe and collect her thoughts. The twisting in her seat so she was now leaning up against the bar, she let the orbs flicker too and fro. A few farm hands, dock workers, quietly talking among themselves, others in rapture over a card game. From the angle she was at she could not spy any coin, and quickly reasoned it was for fun. Her gaze briefly drifted over others, picking out the features, finer clothing for one or two, others seemed awkward and looked out of place. They were offered only polite smiles. There was no use disturbing them, she doubted they had the answers she sought.

No, she reasoned, she would need contacts and individuals of value. Dock workers may know a captain of an older vessel. There may be travel logs, though she was not sure how far those would date back. Though, some may remember for the right price. Fallon gave a firm tap on the bar and called the keep once more, "Hey, how much for some grub around here?" the finger gave a wiggle, "I mean, all things considered. Stomach thinks the throat has been cut."