"So we need to find Old Ren at the stables," Naomi said, pushing her barely-touched stew away. The smell of rancid meat lingered, making her stomach turn. "Tonight. Before our pale-faced friend decides to pay us a personal visit."
Xavier nodded, dropping coins on the table. His eyes kept darting to the tavern door where the Inquisitor had disappeared. "The sooner we get Nolan, the better."
They gathered their belongings and left The Last Drop, stepping into Dustfall's frigid evening air. The settlement sprawled before them like a patchwork quilt of misery—ramshackle buildings leaning against each other for support, narrow streets churned to mud by too many boots, and the constant, oppressive smell of smoke and unwashed bodies.
Naomi led the way, her purple hair tucked beneath a hood. She noticed how the locals gave wide berth to anyone wearing black—Lord Karson's people. The Empire's blue uniforms received grudging deference, while white garments drew fearful glances and whispers.
