The town of Betarvius was buzzing at this time of day. The shops were open and full of interesting smells and people. The merchants were shouting their deals to all who would listen, and kids darted in and out of alleyways, playing tag or hide and seek. Overhead, it was a cloudless day, the sky a brilliant shade of blue. Birds soared above, swooping down every now and then to gobble down a scrap of food someone had dropped.

Conor sat alone at a table for two, nursing a cup of tea. It was a little bitter, but it was all the poor shop had. He tapped his worn boot against the floor quietly. There was so much that he could do today. The library was open, the gift shops were booming, the fruit was in season. After a moment, the adventurer decided that his first stop would be the library, since Betarvius was known for its history. Then he could do some shopping in the gift shops, maybe add a thing or two to his strange collection of questionable items.

Slowly, he stood up, finishing the tea and cringing ever so slightly. He set the cup down on the table, as well as a tip, then made his way to the door. As he left, the bell above it jingled.

Conor looked about for a moment, then briskly made his way to the side of the street. A horse pulling a carriage was clomp-clomping down the narrow street, sending up little clouds of dirt. He couldn't help but marvel at the size of the animal. Much bigger than sheep. He turned his attention back to the road ahead, tucking his satchel close to his hip. Rule number one in foreign towns was to always keep your belongings close. He, unfortunately, had learned that the hard way after getting every last bit of his money stolen in a town closer to the west coast. That hadn't been fun.

Rule number two of adventuring was that you never pondered on the past. So, Conor shoved the thought to the back of his mind. At least he knew now. Based on his memory, he thought he remembered the library being just around the corner. He'd find out in a moment.

Something caught the boy's eye.

He bent down, picking it up with careful fingers. It was a paper, gone brown from disuse and weather. It seemed very brittle. But, the words were still readable.

Festival in Trunswick

At this time of year, everyone's favourite Festival of Wolves is back in swing in The City of Trunswick. The festival provides food, gifts, exotic items from continents away, and a full day of pure joy. The Trunswicks also shall be present, watching over the town. Don't miss the celebration of the Wolf and remember to stop by in the next three weeks, and bring a friend!

Conor ran his thumb over the gritty paper. He could faintly remember the Festival of Wolves. His mother and father used to take him and his brothers as often as they could. It was definitely the embodiment of a festival. Shows almost every night, games, shops, food stands. Even the Trunswick family, standing regally. What the town probably didn't know, was that Devin, Dawson, and Daphne Trunswick would all head out at night when it was less crowded and have some fun themselves.

These were fond memories. He could already picture the wolf carvings, the banners over doors, the Pin the Tail on the Wolf games.

Maybe Conor would pay a visit.

❥❥❥❥❥❥

The market was finally closing down after a long, successful day. Conor tucked the bag of jerky into his bag with a short thank you to the shop owner before he turned and jogged away. He had to get to the inn before it got too dark. Foreign towns were a little shady when all the lights went out.

Conor listened to the quiet conversations among the last people in the streets as he speed-walked.

"Can we go to Trunswick?" he heard a little girl beg, holding up the same poster he'd picked up earlier.

"It's too far." Her mother shook her head, taking the poster and folding it in half, then setting it down on a windowsill. Conor had the thought that if he could take that little girl with him, he would. The capital city of Eura was a sight to behold.

The inn was coming into view. Conor realized how dark it was getting when a lantern nearby flickered and went out, the flame finally giving up. He picked up the pace. Besides for potential dangers lurking in the alleys, the cold was also more prominent when your cloak wasn't very thick. Finally, Conor stepped in front of the doors to the inn, lying a hand on the handle and tugging it open. He walked inside with a sigh, the smells of hot chocolate, tea, and cleaning supplies hitting his nose. It was a familiar scent, now that he could recognize it from all his travels.

Silently, Conor walked past the people sitting at tables, clutching mugs in their hands. He felt a tad bit awkward not returning their gaze when they looked up at him, then felt even more awkward with the thought of staring back. He shoved both thoughts aside as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. This inn was not necessarily large, nor was it small. Some inns were tiny, with only a few rooms to spare and only one floor. Others, such as this one, had more rooms to offer, and might even let you sleep at a table if you begged enough. Very few were large. If an inn was large, then there was no doubt it was owned by an incredibly wealthy family.

Conor shoved the door to his room open. Along with sleeping in inns, you had to be willing to bunk with strangers, if you didn't have the money to bribe the innkeeper to let you have your own. Thankfully, Conor had a little more money to spare to have some privacy, but it did hurt to see a hole in his wallet.

Unceremoniously, he dumped his bag by the foot of the bed and flopped into bed. He didn't really feel like undressing. Sleeping in his day clothes wouldn't hurt for a night.

With that, Conor let out a long sigh, staring out the window for a moment with his cheek squished against the mattress, then closed his eyes.

He thought about the Festival of Wolves in Trunswick. How fun that would be.

It was like someone had flipped a light switch. The young adventurer laid his mind to rest, and was out in an instant.