Faolan dragged his tired body into the outskirts of Cerenis. He could barely pick up his feet enough to get down the cobblestone roads, and he thought dully that he must look like some sort of rat the cat dragged in.
But he realized something different of this town, something he had never seen in his 19 years at Arca, and that something gave him just enough energy to press onward. The air smelled different here, but that wasn't the only thing that seemed off to Faolan's senses. The salty wind brushed back his hair out of his sweaty face and in the distance he could hear the cries of strange birds.
However, he realized that he would have to satiate his curiosity at another time. Every muscle in his body ached and he hadn't eaten anything for, well, awhile. He was no hunter, and traveling across Serendipity from Arca to this town had just about killed him--it was a truth that he didn't want to acknowledge but was as plain as the bruise that he carried around on his cheek. Argh, he forgot about that bruise. Instinctively his hand reached up and he poked gingerly at the small dark brown spot underneath his left eye. Shaking his head, he let his hand drop to the side and he continued on through the town.
Food, then rest, and then a job.
Well, maybe he could explore the town a bit as he hunted for some employment. He had some qualifications, though they were weak. He knew about the smithy, and while he loathed the thought of going to work for one because it reminded him about his father and the life he had lost in Arca, he also knew that it may be one of the few places he would be able to find a job.
He stumbled towards an inn and tavern, and he thanked the heavens that it was too early for all of the people to stop in after work. Hopefully that meant that he would have no trouble. He opened the door and slipped quietly inside, taking a few seconds to let his eyes adjust to the darkness within. He hesitated as he scanned across the big, thick wooden tables and chairs and up to the counter. A bartender and a barmaid stood there chatting while they wiped down dishes, and a couple of customers ate or slept drunkenly at the counter. Faolan took a couple of uneven steps as he tried to calm himself. He didn't want to look like an outsider, but he feared that it was too late. The bartender and the barmaid looked up at him, and the gentleman sipping on an ale gave him a horrendous stare.
Faolan walked slowly but steadily to the counter and heaved himself on one of the barstools. He feared that he would topple right off, and he set his hands down on the counter to avoid falling to the floor.
"How can I help you?" asked the bartender as he eyed Faolan suspiciously.
"Food?" asked Faolan, for lack of better words.
"Alrighty, son." He turned to the barmaid and nodded towards the kitchen. The barmaid hurried off and returned with a plate of food and set it down before Faolan. Faolan admired the chunk of meat and the potatoes and the slice of bread and the sour-green-colored beans as the bartender thumped a mug of ale down next to him.
And he began to eat heartily.
