"Now that you mention it, I do know one person that could help..." Harol said in response to Freya's suggestions. He didn't know Noddy all that well, just pretty much what the man looked like, and the fact he was indeed a man. And that he could most often be found in the tavern spending time, but rarely drinking. "The problem is, I don't know him all that well. I've been told to steer clear of him unless in real trouble though, but I guess our situation counts. We just might find him in the tavern if we looked for him... We really cannot go asking around for obvious reasons." Having said that, Harol started making his way back towards the main road. Just standing here would get absolutely nothing done.

As he walked into the village, he undoubtedly drew attention in his wizard's equipment, but in the end people here had gotten rather used to seeing visitors to house Clasz, and they all looked pretty much like that. Nobody bothered to look at him any longer than a brief glance, and thus nobody would be likely to notice his now somewhat hidden family tattoo. Harol did remember where the tavern was as they had nearly always stopped for a moment to stretch their legs (and some to quench their thirst) in this village. And there it was, the same old wooden building with one floor above ground and the actual rooms within the cellar. Harol had never understood the choice to build rooms of the tavern like that when there as an actual inn with better rooms above ground, but now he realized how useful that model was for people in tricky situations.

As Harol opened the door and held it open for Freya for a moment, the smell of the tavern rushed to meet him. Ale, sweat, wood, some smoke... all kinds of things really. Not really a place where Harol liked to be, but he stepped in to search for the man. Most tables had groups of people in them, betting on things, drinking down their money, debating loudly, and other such things. But in one table at the back sat a man dressed in leather armour with carved wooden decorations scattered here and there, with his black hair on his eyes that were apparently closed. That was him, no doubt about it. Harol looked at Freya and said: "That's him."