Ah, alcohol. A blessed nectar of the gods, and a sure way to get the population of any bar to cooperate and spill the beans on anything interesting, and hopefully useful. And the patrons of Scaled Wyrm Inn, while as diverse as one might expect from a gaggle of travelers evenly mixed with the natives, in this aspect were unified.
Of course, there were always the outliers who were too drunk to approach and turn their gratitude into something more substantial, but perhaps it was for the better. One sailor decided to repay her by letting her know where she can find the best brothel in the port, "and they even have their own healer, so all the girls are kept clean and healthy, you won't catch any pox from them!". It probably had nothing to do with the cursed prince, but at least now Remi would know which place probably wouldn't need her healing services.
Then there was a peasant who was sitting close enough to overhear the subject of the conversation - and, unlike the knight, he could keep to it. He described a two-headed calf one of his cows bore. Naturally, he blamed the cursed prince for this. After some inquiry, he admitted that the prince in question has never even visited his village, let alone encountered the cow. Either the curse was so powerful that it could affect things so far from its target, or the fool was just blaming natural accidents on whatever he could, as ignorant rabble was prone to.
The next source of information was a traveler who wasn't too familiar with either the island, its ruling family, or curses, but he had encountered trademaster el Sapienza before, and had a rather positive opinion of her. According to him, she was a part of a larger merchant family, and was known for her professional manner of handling her affairs. She was a part of a bigger network, and every now and then visited Astanill to supply its people with what couldn't be found on the isle.
Most information about the curse came from an older woman whose daughter allegedly worked in the castle. She mostly reaffirmed what the knight has said - about how the servants and staff avoided the prince, lest his curse affect them as well. But there was some new tidbits every now and then, such as how his clothes had to be mended more frequently than any other person in the castle - and the maids had a baseline of the youngest royal child, a rambunctious seven-year-old who made it her life's mission to climb everything she found, starting with the trees in the garden. If her brother's outfits tore more, either the curse affected inanimate matter as well, or the lucky prince had a very rough and impatient girlfriend.
A few travelers shared some enticing gossip from other islands - fun, but probably not relevant. A scarred orc with a curious accent and admirable grasp of the language related a slightly relevant tale of a man cursed to speak with his anus and defecate with his mouth - a lovely story to tell in an inn. Fortune decided to spare Remi from having to hear more of her tales, as when the orc took a break to order more ale, the door swung open.
The woman who entered must have been the aforementioned trademaster. She was indeed easy to remember, with an intricate pattern of tattoos covering her dark skin. The black lines swirled and branched in a rather fascinating, if distracting way. That was one way to ensure men's gaze wouldn't stray, at least not immediately. She was wearing an outfit clearly designed for practical travel - a snug pair of long leather boots reaching up to her knees, comfortable trousers and a leather vest. A perceptive eye would notice that it was kept in good condition, and probably wasn't something a poor person would wear - there were telltale signs of wealth. She walked with confidence and certainty, as one might expect.
She walked up to the owner, exchanging friendly smiles. "I see a few more grey hair on your head. Must be hard, running a tavern in a port."
"I swear, if I got a copper piece for every time some idiot wants free drinks, maybe I could afford giving them some!" she laughed. "Not that I'd waste money on that."
The trademaster took a small stack of papers out of the pocket and handed them over to the Adelan. "I got the responses to your letters." It really paid off to be friends with a merchant who travels a lot, apparently.
