"Well, I think it is about time we went our way!" your leader declares, retrieving his arms and armor. "Gather your bits, everyone."
"We can't leave without saying goodbye!" you voice, discouraging the fleetness.
"Of course not! Say, master, you mind we wake the old?"
"Oh go ahead, he won't mind!" the head passes a nod of approval, snickering afterwards. "Mayhap he won't recognize you, either..."
"Master Gisla, we're off!" the warrior brays approaching the elder, though it won't do without nudges. No wonder, when the forceful screech breaking dawn didn't do the trick...
"Ey?" the old man squints, all confused.
"Blessed be for your hospitality, we are going!"
"Ah! Well Escu shield you, thanks for coming by! Yes..."
As the host looks like he'd fall slumbering instantly again, it is the pair escorting you outside.
"Tread safe, warriors!" the father calls, his eyes alit with the sun now. "Should our paths ever cross again, know this door stays open."
"We will, and thanks for everything!" Flax answers. "Good fortune!"
Thus you're on your way again. An actual road this time, too, with quite a few fellow travelers streaming in both directions, busier than you've seen up north, oxen drawing their carts and odd birds dwelling in their baskets.
"How you keep track of the journey off these paths, anyway?" you address the leader. "I'd think some sort of a map would be in order."
"As long as you keep track of which side of the river you're on, you'll find your way here." he explains. "The worse part is getting by, away from the dwellings..."
"Well you may be able to navigate the parts but we're pulled like a trail of geese, I'd certainly appreciate a clearer picture."
"Then we'll get that sorted! Now speed, 'tis 'bout a pebble toss from here..."
And it indeed doesn't take long, to behold the settlement. Each time do these surprise you, it looks grander than the last - thick stone walls stand tall on both banks, the city halved by the great river. A hill towers over the roofs, and a keep upon it, the number of burghers you cannot begin to imagine. And those on the road all pouring in, as the reverse current doth out, travelers you are to join by the gate.
Some beasts of burden you've been acquainted with, others you've only known from the word of mouth, the sight of a steed by the watch tells you how deep you've sunken into this unknown world. But the view is not at all troubling, people all around seem joyful, even as you're not accustomed to the business of it all.
"Right, now here's the plan." Flax speaks, with great confidence guiding you through the streets. "First, we're off to the market, to supply our enterprise properly. Next, all I need is to visit the local library. Whether you accompany me or not, I shall leave up to you. Keep close together..."
"Library?" you repeat, still processing the overwhelming artifice around. An immediate turn right, and onto a bridge you go, you can't catch a breath. "Perhaps there we could get a map, ey? By the way..."
The next words you muffle, to match discretion warranted. "Don't have a spy planted to visit?"
"Nay." he shakes his head. "It is them coming to visit rather, erm, this place..."
The leader's attention is swayed elsewhere, for just as you cross the river, an ashen critter jumps you. Not with a weapon, instead flashing some beadwork in his claws. A fox man it is, dirty and ruffled, sticking out like a sore thumb on the street.
"Not today, little!" the leader mutters, and gestures him along. Not once has the ambusher opened his mouth, and silent he scurries away.
"They leave him running like this in the town?" you inquire, watching him dissapear in the alleyways.
"Won't maim you with jewellery now will he? Eh, what do I know. Guess they figured as much... Though I hadn't seen any clusters of 'em, just these peddlers."
"Still, it is an unusual sight..." you utter, when another voice surfaces from behind.
"Perhaps you'd like a slave, then."
Snapping around after the speaker, a particularly short man you see, well groomed, his dense mustache bushy like moss.
"I see you have an interesting collection going on, gentlemen, I am sure you'd find a specimen to your liking..."
"Thanks, we're fine." Flax mouths, promtly waves him off, and hastens to make your escape. You follow quickly.
"Below the falcon, gentlemen!" he cries after, but does not pursue.
"What was that all about?" asks Sas, quite apparently thinking the proposer a loon.
"Uncle frizzle there likely got the wrong impression..." Flax suggests. "On our list it is not. Instead, bags, look!"
A small square you reach, but one crammed to no end despite. And no wonder, for the stalls are many and the supply rich, your leader takes you to one such, displaying furrier's craft.
"There, draft pockets!" he points at a hanger, heavy with goods. "Think of which you'd fancy, I'll haggle our loot in the meantime. Then we can get a look around whatever."
What do you want to do?