Slowly, Meryn Rohald moved his hands over the snares of his lute to set in the first chord of River Irallel. His patchwork cloak fluttered as he spun to face the other side of the crowded inn, and it took only two rythmic stamps on the table he stood on for the soldiers to recognize the song and clap along. Laughter filled the common room of [i]The Nine Rings Inn[/i], but Meryn couldn't help but shoot a glance at Master Rowen, as he had done many times this night. The only thing that seemed to calm Master Rowen - the plump, grey haired innkeeper - was when the crowd laughed. It hadn't escaped his notice how, whenever he took a short pause between songs and acts, Master Rowen dabbed his forehead with a dirty rag to hide how profusely he was sweating. Meryn thought that the man would burst the second he had recognized the tune of his previous song, [i]The Fool Who Thought He Was King[/i]. Like the soldiers would've burned down his Inn had they felt offended. [I]As if they wouldn't lynch me first.[/I] 

He was approaching the end of his act. The night was still young, but he had only agreed to entertaining the guests in return for a warm meal and a place to spend the night. Now that the scent of broth and roasted chicken found its way to his nose, he thought it was about time for his payment. 

[color=wheat]"That'll be all for now lads."[/color] Meryn said after he played the final note. He moved to the edge of the table that had served as his stage, careful not to knock over any mugs of ale, and found his way to the dirty floor in one elegant motion. 

Master Rowen was beside him in an instant. [color=8493ca]"Can't you entertain them for just a while longer gleeman?"[/color] The innkeeper pleaded. [color=8493ca]"If it's coin you want, I can pay. Yes, I'll pay." [/color]

Meryn brushed a lock of golden hair out of his face. [color=wheat]"The followers of the F-"[/color] he caught himself in time. [color=wheat]"of the Dragon won't burn down your inn without my stories, songs, and acts Master Rowen. Just keep the ale flowing and you'll have nothing to worry about."[/color] A look at the innkeeper told him the man was not convinced. Wearily, he added [color=wheat]"But maybe I'll slip in an act or two after supper."[/color] The innkeeper's eyes shone. 

[color=8493ca]"Then let's get you something to eat, eh?"[/color] Master Rowen turned. [color=8493ca]"Hilde!"[/color] Meryn nearly jumped at the innkeeper's sudden shout. A woman, seemingly twice the size of the innkeeper, appeared in the doorway of the kitchen with her arms crossed under her chest and her brow furrowed. [color=7ea7d8]"Fetch something to eat for the gleeman!"[/color] 

Before Meryn could make a remark, the innkeeper guided him -somewhat forcefully- by the arm toward the counter. Muttering a 'thank you', Meryn took place on a barstool that had clearly seen better days. 

While he turned on his stool to observe the crowd, Meryn caught on to the conversation next to him. [color=f26522]"-heading for Jurene. Probably want to cut us off from Kinslayer's dagger."[/color] Meryn cast a sideways glance he was sure the three men beside him wouldn't notice. They wore dull red gambesons, almost as worn as their grizzled, scar-covered faces. Men from the borderlands, Meryn guessed. 

The bald man closest to him sniffed loudly. [color=f7941d]"Whitecloaks. Fools, all of them."[/color] He slowly shook his head as he raised his mug of ale. [color=f7941d]"The Cairhienin won't let an army of Whitecloaks cross the Erinin, no matter the reason."[/color] 

[color=a36209]"As if the Queen of Andor will continue to let them to rally in the first place"[/color] the third chimed in. [color=a36209]"Can't imagine she's pleased with them gathering in Andor."[/color] The other two men nodded in agreement. 

Meryn turned away during the short silence that followed, but his interest was reinvigorated when the third spoke up again. [color=a36209]"Anyways, the Whitecloaks aren't our biggest problem. Have you heard about them Aiel sightings? Those blasted cave-dwellers showed their faces at Kinslayer's dagger."[/color] According to the rumours Meryn had heard, Kinslayer's dagger was where the False Dragon had made camp. It was said that the mountains glowed like a swarm of fireflies during the night, each light a campfire of the dragon's followers. He eyed the men cautiously. He hadn't been sure of it before, but their reactions made him believe the rumours were true. 

[color=f26522]"Bloody Aiel."[/color] The fellow closest to Meryn spat. [color=f26522]"What happened to 'em? What did the Lord Dragon do?"[/color]

[color=a36209]"Put 'em to the sword, that's what he did. Flaming all of 'em."[/color] Laughter erupted from their side of the counter. 

[color=f7941d]"Serves 'em right, didn't expect anything less from the Lord Drag-"[/color] The innkeeper's return cut him off from the conversation. 

[color=8493ca]"Got some lamb stew and mushroom pasties for you. Enjoy, gleeman."[/color] Eagerly, Meryn pulled the plate and bowl toward him.

[color=wheat]"Mind if I eat this in the stable? I prefer to eat my meals in peace and quiet."[/color] With the haphazard group of bandits and deserters who called themselves 'Followers of the Dragon' occupying Tremonsien, finding a place to sleep had been difficult - even for a gleeman. At first, Master Rowen hadn't been willing to offer a place in his stable either. It had cost him three more silver coins than he'd like to admit, but the harsh rain outside made a roof above his head worth every penny. 

Master Rowen shot him an exasperated look. [color=8493ca]"Don't startle the horses." [/color] 

Meryn grinned and raised his hands. [color=wheat]"They won't even know I'm there."[/color] With the prospect of a quiet place to eat and smoke his pipe, Meryn took his supper and made way for the stable. 

[@Algarus]