Dice Day - 24 In.

The door to the inn opened, the fresh cold air of the evening flowing in intermittently, jarringly -- it had not been opened for an hour or two, as everyone who would be here was here already. Entering were two fellows in their 20s, middle-aged, some would say. The first, wearing studded leather armour, a sword at his left, a dagger on the other side, a pack slung over his right shoulder, his right hand holding it in place. Followed by a second fellow, this one not so attired -- he wore a grey, plain cloak, sleeveless over a plain white shirt, a beanie with a top point sitting enough above his head as if it floated there, pointed skyward unnaturally.

They entered, not a word, stood, scanned the room. It was packed, beautifully, and oddly, a lone table stood to the far side, two seats, close to the heart of the fire, unusually vacant -- although looking at how the crowd was clustered, deliberately, as it was distinctly not in the mix, the fray of the social interactions of the room.

The grey-cloaked fellow stepped forward, pointed at the pair's destination and nodded towards the bar. The first, the leather-clad fellow, went where he was nodded to, whilst the other wove his way through the crowd to their eventual destination.

Moving to the bar, the leather-clad fellow bellowed, loud enough for all to hear, as he was not here on secret business -- and why skulk when a declaration will keep more at bay. "Two tankards of your best, good man."

Not hesitating, Gilbert, the proprietor of the bar, simply nodded. He was a man of few words, economical in his audible traits, some would say, turned, pulled two beers and put them upon the bar. "Any food with your ale, friend?"

"What have you got?"

"We do a fine mutton stew, carrots, tatoes, slow-cooked with some meat. 'Tis a fine meal. Drop me a silver and three copper a piece, covers your first drink and the feed."

"Done." And with that, the leather-clad flipped a single gold coin onto the bar. "We'll take lodgings as well."

"Can do, can do, friend. How many nights?"

"One."

"That'll cover it." And with a swift hand, the gold was gone, leaving the two ales sitting alone, handles towards the newcomer.

Leather-clad moved through the room, following the path of the cloaked one. No one looked up. Oh, they knew there were strangers amongst them, but did not acknowledge, not even a glance.

"Done. Room for the night, meal's on its way."

"Good. Settle in, friend, the Jester is not here yet."

"You certain he'll come?"

The cloaked one looked at his friend. "He'll be here."

"So, you're saying this fellow has the details, the location?"

"Better than that, he has the map we require. He's obtained it from the Hag in the pines -- no doubt some deal has been done, something thankfully you and I are once removed from, a deal he will have done. We have to wait, see what he has and then go from there. All I know is there's a throne in a tower atop a hill. And..."

"And?"

"It'll be worth our while, that's all. Now, be quiet and wait. He needs to be here tonight as the ship is set to sail tomorrow."