"Are you sure you don't want an escort to Ferremis?" The ranger—[i]Laisa[/i], he reminded himself—looked concerned. "It's not [i]that[/i] far out of our way."

"I'll be fine," Devon said, remembering to give a reassuring smile at the last minute. The wizard—[i]Melchior[/i]— had insisted he present a friendly face to others while he was travelling with their group. That had apparently consisted of smiling (properly) at appropriate moments, asking polite questions and providing reassurance when taking on jobs. Then again, it had resulted in the stones currently in his pouch and vest pocket and embedded in his gloves, so maybe there was something to his advice. 

Melchior nodded. "Good luck with your hive."

"Thank you," Devon said. At least his smile felt more real this time. With a final wave at the two adventurers, he set out for Stonecrest Mountains. According to the map, this was the safest route to Ferremis, where he could report to the branch of the guild there and stay for a few weeks. And, of course, negotiate matters regarding his hive. 

Several hours later he was beginning to wish he'd taken Laisa's offer. The snow was coming down fast in the mountains, and he shivered. To make matters worse, it was getting dark and there were no inns nearby that he could see. At least the bees were safe, suspended in the stone enchantments and placed snugly in his pouch. Each stone contained around seventy or eighty bees, which was the most Melchior had been able to apply the spell to simultaneously before it simply refused to take. The hornets were much fewer in number; the stones embedded in his leather gloves and jostling in his vest pockets contained around twenty of them each. 

He didn't like hornets. Bees were useful, only stinging to protect the rest of the hive and even then as a last resort. Hornets were [i]pests[/i], pure and simple, and they stung repeatedly. Much more vindictive. 

As he was considering the best place to camp for the night, he spotted a sign. "Warm food and good service, some of the time?" He read out loud. "I don't care about service. I'll take the warm food." There was a light up ahead, probably the inn. He set off to follow it, trudging through the snow with some difficulty. The cold wind blew at his neck, and he began to wish he had a scarf. 

Eventually he came to an inn, lighted from the inside. It wasn't the biggest he'd seen, but it looked cozy and inviting. The name was strange though. What was unorthodox about it? He imagined a safe haven for orcs and trolls, other inhuman beasts. A hive of scum and villainy. He snorted to himself. Real hives were much more organised than that. 

"Welcome to The Unorthodoxy!" A dwarf said as he entered. Devon stared at him. "That [i]is[/i] the name on your door, yes. How much for a room?" Between his payment and the gold the villagers had handed over for handling their bee problem, he wouldn't have any problem with money for a while.