A man appeared from the rear of the tavern, bearing a small wooden plate in one hand. It took a quick question at the bar to determine who exactly the plate was going to, but in short order he found himself approaching the table occupied by the trio of new guests. The black haired young man quietly set the plate down at their table, showing the ordinary looking key on its surface. The iron key was engraved with a simple '2 0 1' on its side, and he was quick to explain its significance in a delicate voice. "Your room is the first on the left of the second floor. It's been made ready for your stay and it's yours until tomorrow evening. Please sleep well," he suggested, unawares of what exactly the party had been through, before he made his exit back to the rear of the tavern. Apparently, not one of the barkeeps. The Crossroads had finally begun to slow down for the night, or rather the morning, and slowly, a pod of one or two here and there, people were filtering away. They did not close in night, miming their restless traveler clientele, but the people of Mullen and what few regulars they had did eventually get tired.