The front door remained open for a moment after the old woman finished speaking.
Cool evening air drifted into the hall, carrying the faint scent of dry grass from the roadside.
The old woman steadied herself against the table.
"I only need to reach the houses past the bend," she said after a moment. "It's not far."
Near the counter, the traveller with the feathered cloak had lifted his head when she first entered. Now he pushed back his chair.
"I can walk with you," he said.
The old woman looked up in surprise.
"You would?"
He shrugged lightly as he reached for his cloak.
"It's not far."
She nodded gratefully and gathered her shawl around her shoulders again.
Ruan stepped aside as they moved toward the door. The old woman paused briefly as she passed him.
"Thank you for listening," she said.
Ruan inclined his head.
The door closed behind them with a soft wooden thud.
For a short while, the hall returned to quiet.
A traveller near the hearth resumed eating.
Someone crossed the corridor upstairs.
Near the window, Boro still stood where he had paused earlier.
His large hands rested awkwardly around the broom handle, though he had not moved it again.
Ruan wiped the table once with a cloth and set it aside.
Then he stepped outside.
The evening air was cooler on the road.
Wind moved through the dry grass beside the fence.
Farther down the road, the cart had already disappeared from sight.
Ruan stood for a moment near the lantern post.
From the edge of the roadside trees, voices drifted faintly through the air.
Low and unhurried.
Ruan walked a little farther down the road.
Three men stood beside the fence where the grass grew thick. One of them crouched near something on the ground while the others watched the road.
The basket lay between them.
The cloth covering had been pushed aside. Only crumbs remained inside.
One of the men lifted a folded scrap of paper from the bottom and squinted at it.
"Old woman must live somewhere past the bend," he muttered.
The others leaned closer.
A small map showed the road and a narrow path toward a cluster of houses.
Ruan watched them for a moment.
Then he walked back toward the inn.
Inside, the hall was much as he had left it.
The fire burned steadily. A pair of travellers spoke quietly near the window.
Boro remained near the counter.
When Ruan entered, the tall mushroom-folk straightened slightly, unsure whether he should move or stay where he was.
Ruan stopped beside him.
"Moss isn't here," he said.
Boro shook his head.
Ruan glanced once across the hall.
Then he placed the cloth he had been holding on the counter.
"Watch the inn."
Boro blinked, then nodded quickly.
"Y-Yes."
His grip on the broom tightened before he carefully set it aside and moved behind the counter, standing a little straighter than before.
Ruan stepped back toward the door.
***
Outside, the wind moved again through the tall grass beside the road.
This time, he followed it toward the trees.
The voices carried easily once Ruan stepped beyond the road.
The trees thinned where the men had stopped. Dry leaves covered the ground beneath the branches.
The three men stood loosely around the basket.
One of them still held the scrap of paper.
"If she lives past the bend," he said, tapping the map with one finger, "someone else might come this way before dark."
Another leaned back against the fence rail and spat into the grass.
"Then we wait."
The third man had wandered a little farther from the others. He kicked idly at the dirt with his boot.
"Should've taken the cart too."
The first snorted.
"And haul a cart down the road in daylight?"
The conversation drifted into grumbling.
Behind them, something shifted softly among the leaves.
The man nearest the trees turned his head.
"What was—"
His words stopped.
The ground beneath his feet dragged suddenly, as if the earth itself had grown heavier. His step faltered.
Ruan reached him. One strike. The man dropped into the leaves.
The second bandit spun around and reached for the knife at his belt.
The blade came halfway free before Ruan stepped past, catching the man's wrist. The knife fell into the grass.
The third man backed away, startled.
"Hey—!"
He turned to run.
A small stone flew from Ruan's hand and struck the back of his leg.
It struck with more force than it should have. The man stumbled, collapsing forward into the dirt.
Ruan worked quickly, binding their wrists with the rope tied to the fence.
***
When he was done, the three men lay side by side in the leaves.
For a moment the clearing was still.
Then a figure stepped quietly onto the road beyond the trees.
The traveller who had escorted the old woman had not gone far.
He had walked with her to the bend before turning back toward the road.
The voices among the trees had stopped him.
Now he stood beside the fence, looking through the thin branches.
Ruan rose to his feet.
He looked down at the bandits for a moment, as if making certain none of them would rise again.
The traveller's eyes moved from the rope to the knife lying in the grass, then to the small stone resting near the path.
He said nothing.
Ruan lifted the basket.
Inside, crumbs of crushed pastry clung to the cloth lining. The folded scrap of paper lay where the men had dropped it.
He unfolded it once.
The map showed a bend in the road and a narrow path leading toward a cluster of houses.
Ruan folded the paper again and placed it back inside the basket.
The traveller watched him for another moment.
Then he stepped away from the fence and returned quietly to the road.
***
By the time Ruan stepped back onto the road, the roadside was empty again.
Only the wind moved through the tall grass beside the fence.
He followed the road to the bend, then turned onto the narrow path beyond it.
A small cluster of houses stood at the end. One window glowed faintly with lamplight.
Ruan stopped at the gate and placed the basket beside the door.
A fresh pie rested inside.
He knocked once.
Before the latch turned, he had already stepped back through the gate.
Behind him, the door opened.
A surprised voice rose softly into the night.
Ruan continued down the path without looking back.
***
Night had already settled when Ruan returned.
The lantern beside the door burned steadily in the yard.
Inside, the hall was warm. A pot hung over the hearth where dinner was nearly finished, its scent filling the room.
The tables had already been wiped clean.
A pair of travellers stood near the counter.
Ruan stepped inside just as one of them placed a brass key on the wood.
"S-Safe travels," the man said with a small nod before turning toward the door.
The two travellers stepped out into the night.
Ruan walked toward the counter.
Boro stood behind it, careful and still.
He placed two keys into Ruan's hand.
"A few travellers already l-left," Boro said quietly.
"South road."
Ruan nodded.
He gave Boro a small pat on the back before setting the keys beside the others.
Boro straightened a little behind the counter.
Dinner passed without much conversation.
The travellers ate quietly, grateful for warmth and food after the cool autumn evening.
By the time the last bowls had been cleared, the inn had grown calm again.
One by one the guests climbed the stairs.
Footsteps moved along the corridor above. A door closed gently.
Someone laughed softly before their voice faded behind a door.
The fire in the hearth settled into low orange coals.
Ruan wiped the last cup dry and placed it on the shelf.
When he turned, someone stood near the doorway to the yard.
The traveller with the feathered cloak leaned against the frame, his cloak draped loosely over one shoulder.
For a moment he simply watched the quiet hall.
Then he spoke.
"Can you drink tonight?"
Ruan looked at him for a moment, then nodded.
***
A narrow ladder led to the low roof above the laundry lines.
The moon hung high above the tiles. A small round table waited near the edge with two chairs and a bottle between them.
They sat.
For a while neither of them spoke.
Wind moved softly through the hanging sheets.
The traveller turned the cup slowly between his fingers.
"I thought about what you said."
Ruan waited.
"You called this place ambitious."
He glanced toward the lantern near the gate.
"At first I thought that was strange. It's just an inn."
He paused.
"But I realised something."
"It's only ordinary because someone built it."
He lifted the cup but did not drink.
"I spent years doing what I was told. Guard this road. Follow that banner."
His voice was calm.
"I never asked what I wanted."
The cup rested again on the table.
"I never had a dream."
Ruan lifted his own cup slightly.
"You did."
The traveller looked at him.
Ruan's gaze remained on the wine.
"Fighting for your kingdom," he said quietly. "That was one."
A crooked smile appeared.
"Funny thing to hear from you."
They drank.
After a while, the traveller leaned back slightly.
"You built a strange place here."
Ruan said nothing.
"But I think I understand it now."
His eyes moved toward the lantern by the road.
Then he glanced back at Ruan.
"Were you a soldier too?"
Ruan looked at the wine in his cup.
"...Something similar."
The man laughed softly.
"I've been here for weeks."
"And you never asked my name."
"Some people prefer their privacy," Ruan said.
"That's fair."
He lifted the bottle and poured the last of the wine.
"But just in case we meet again somewhere down the road…"
He raised his cup.
"I'm Kael."
Ruan lifted his own.
The cups touched softly.
Above them, the lantern swayed in the cool autumn air.