Meanwhile, somewhere in the town;
The dimly lit pub of the inn was alive with the rowdy chatter of mercenaries and travelers alike, the air thick with the scent of ale and roasted meat. In a corner near the stone hearth, five mercenaries gathered around a wooden table, their mugs clinking against the rough surface as they drank.
Ember, a sharp-eyed woman with braided blonde hair, leaned forward, swirling the dark liquid in her cup. Her voice was low but carried an edge of dissatisfaction. "I just don't get it. Why did Penelope and the other two leave the inn so suddenly? They're staying in some woman's house now." She took a sip and continued, "And she still hasn't paid us the rest of our commission. She won't run away, right?"
