"Yes," the merchant responded, walking around to the front of the cart. He pointed down the street. "You follow this road," he said, "until it bends to the right. On the left, you'll see a side street, that's Harcourt. Two blocks down on Harcourt, you'll see the Drake on the left. There'll be a sign over the door, a wooden one that hangs from above."

"Perfect," said Athgar, trying to sound as polite as possible, "you've been very helpful."

"No trouble at all," the man responded.

Athgar resumed his journey, now with a destination in mind.

The Drake turned out to be a very run-down place. He pushed open the door, the hinges squeaking noisily as he did. Just inside was a rather small room, with a narrow set of stairs to one side. A woman sat at a table, a man beside her. She looked up in expectation as Athgar entered while her companion eyed him warily.

Athgar halted before them, taking notice of the cudgel leaning against the man's chair. "I was told you rent rooms for the night?"

"We do," the woman responded, "how many nights?"

"Just the one will do," responded the Therengian.

"We have only one room," she continued, the speech well practised. "You share with everyone else. You pay upfront then go up the stairs and turn right. Pick out a mat, each comes with a single woollen blanket. You have to be out by first light. Do you understand?"

"How much?" Athgar asked.

"Three silvers," she responded, "and you look after your own food."

"Fair enough," he agreed, brandishing his loaf, "I have my own food anyway. I'll take it."

The woman put out her hand, palm up, leaving Athgar to wonder why. She sighed before she spoke, "You pay in advance, remember?"

"Oh, of course," he said, counting out the coins and dropping them into her palm. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes," she said, tucking the coins into her purse, "you're responsible for your own belongings. If anything goes missing, it's your loss."

"Very well," Athgar said, putting away the rest of his coins.

The man gave him a suspicious stare. "Off you go then," he said.

As Athgar made his way up the stairs, he noticed the paint peeling on the walls, and how the steps groaned with every footfall. Reaching the top, he turned to see the door on the right, the boards warped and the lock damaged, likely from someone kicking it in. He pushed the door open to reveal a room, not large, perhaps not even as big as his Orc hut, with bare wooden planks for a floor, heavily used and stained with who knows what. Upon this lay at least a dozen mats, most occupied by slumbering individuals.