"Can we eat, at least?" He asked her, giving her his usual smile. He believed her without hesitation, but she seemed a little quiet, which he found kind of strange. She nodded her head quietly, but when he sat up she pushed him back down with two firm hands. 

"Reeeeessssssst," she ordered. 

"Okaaaaaaaay," He said. She seemed satisfied at that and made her way to the door, sticking her head out and waving a servant over. While she spoke, Beren had some time to look around the room. Clearly it was a guest chamber, well furnished and with rich oaken furniture. Oil lamps were set on the desk, and a great mirror was place to his left, beyond where Jocasta had been sitting. Her Sarong and their belongings were placed on a chair beside it or laid bestride it on top. He was worried about his weaponry for a second, not to mention his clothes and gear, but he found the axe and staff resting against the wall opposite the mirror, and his clothes, freshly knight and washed. 

He looked back at the door and saw that Jocasta had disappeared. Briefly he wondered if he should try to get up behind her back, but he realized just how weak he was when he moved his arm to slide the covers off, and promptly slid them back on. Once he ate, he'd probably feel more energized. He wondered how long he had been asleep... 

An hour later, after Jocasta had returned with the food, followed by two servants carrying further dishes, and after Beren had inhaled most of it, the doctor gave him the go ahead to get out of bed. No jumping and kicking for a day, but he could walk around at least. Beren got up, but Jocasta insisted she helped him walk. It consisted of her trying desperately to keep his muscled form upright, both of them waving to the servants and the steward of the house as they walked out.

[b]Outside...[/b] 

The air was crisp, but the sun was warm. The manor had been of pleasant design, but Iskura was very unlike it in style and architecture. The walls were massive cliffs of carved rock, twice as tall as any wall Beren had ever seen save for the very mountains of a dwarven Thundrim. The buildings around them were monuments of stone, baroque and almost sinister, even in the light of noon. Statues of wolves and gargoyles framed the keeps, halls, and temples that dominated what was the center of the city. From their point in the old quarter, the central Castle could be seen up the busy street, its high spire and robust defenses a testament to whoever had built it. If the stories were true, the giants had made the foundations of the city long ago, and only in the last few centuries had men dared enter the haunted halls and build around them, founding their colonies. 

Jocasta let Beren walk on his own once he had insisted, seeing she was about to collapse from the weight. They made their way west, towards the great city's gates where the streets were less obstructed and the buildings were more recent (and comfortably human sized). Traders and laborers and carts wheeled past them. Every now and then a woman would pop out of a window and hang something out to dry, or an old man would raise his fist and bark at someone below him. So many sights and sounds and fragrances. Beren doubted the city was half as populated as the capitals of the Andred provinces, but it was a great change of pace from the sparse settlements they had dealt with the last few months heading north, where fewer and fewer men lived. 

"Where are we going?" Beren asked Jocasta, who seemed to be leading them along. 

"Hold on, just a minute more." She told him, dragging him along. He laughed at how strange she was acting, but down the corner and on the next street, Beren and Jocasta caught sight of a huge wall of wood. Racked on it was every weapon or iron, steel, or bronze you might think of, at least west of the Sundered Sea. Shields glinted in the sun, and a wicked looking bastard sword gleamed, catching Beren's eye. 

"Holy shit, this is cool." He marveled as they waded through the crowd. 

"Right?" 

"I don't want to get it, but that's a nice looking sword." Beren said, nodding toward the blade. 

"I didn't think you could use a sword," she said. 

"I'm terrible with one," he admitted. "But I can admire good craftsmanship. It's almost dwarf-made, if I didn't know any better." Arms crossed, his words would die in his throat when he saw a heavy, squat dwarf walk out of the shop and place a mace on the bottom rack of the wall. He wore an apron covered in soot and grime, with a black hand print on his bald head. It took off a dagger and a small hanger, and walked back inside. 

"Good eye," Jocasta said with a smile. 

Beren grinned at her, and the two of them strode passed the crowd that browsed the wall and stepped into the shop. It fed into a smithy past a great curtain, and the heat of the chamber felt nice even in the accompanying room. Once they stepped in, the bell rang and a dwarf popped out from behind the counter. It was a short top, but the dwarf still stood atop a pile of neatly stacked books. He had a gleam in his eye and a beard so black it looked almost blue. 

"Welcome to Buri n' Boys! I'm Buri and I'm here to give ye quality iron for your hard earned gold, how might I help ye?" He asked with a rehearsed pinache. 

"I just wanted to know where you're from," Beren asked softly, in a grinding tongue Jocasta couldn't recognize. The Dwarf went from smiling to flummoxed, and he blinked and squinted. 

"How do YOU know how to speak that, boy? How in Runar's little...HEY BOYS! COME OUT HERE!" 

"Who's asking?" A gruff voice called back. 

"Do it!"