The hermit listened as everyone discussed their plans as he stirred the soup. When Gnol offered him the mug he thanked him for it and then he looked at the group. Maybe it was time to give them a little more help, that was what they had come for after all and they had paid him well with all the wood, food and ale. He brought a wooden whistle to his lips and blew twice on it.
"Just calling someone," he said. "But to me it looks like your next goals are rather straight-forward. Our dear Dwarven friend here knows a few hiding riders, whatever you decide to do, in the very least you should send them a message." He looked around as he said that, but turned his attention to the soup afterwards. "As for how to deal with the king, I think it's important the offspring of the Old King will have a say in it. I knew him well, the king came to me with every time his new child was a year or two, I doubt any of them remember. But to reclaim the throne we seem to have two option. War or assassination. And the children of the Old King should decide how they want to reclaim the throne, the rest of us can merely follow in their decision." After he spoke those words he looked up from the soup again. "This soup is done, anyone want some?"

When Meria heard the soup was ready she took some bowl and walked to the Hermit, he could fill them and she would give them to the ones who wanted soup. She sensed a familiar aura emitting from Noble, and while she knew Noble was on their side, the magic felt hostile to her. The small water dragon seemed to sense it too, as she dove under the water. Fire and ground were at an advantage here, but at least the Hermit was here. In his sanctuary there would be no fighting.

Trevor sat down next to Mikhal and they both drank from the ale. "Yes please," Mikhal said in answer to the question of soup and Trevor nodded. 
With how the Hermit talked about the children of the Old King, Trevor examined everyone more carefully. Were they here? Was that why the Hermit refused to look at anyone as he spoke. There were a few who had seemed awkward and tense when the Hermit had mentioned the heir before. Without voicing his suspicion, he examined the three he didn't know yet. The possibility it was Duncan was quickly dismissed, why would he search for the heir if he was it? And to make it worse, the Hermit had spoken in plural. Children.

[hr]

General Doruk, a man with black hair with a few strands of dark-grey through it, noticed the light. If anyone would have been there he would have finished up the business, but since he was alone he went straight to the entrance and opened it for his agents. While he was broad and had a slight bulge in the area of his stomach as a result for his tase of fine wine, he was still quick to move.
"Okay, report. I hope you two have better news than the last messenger that came."