The sun dipped ever lower, casting a golden hue over the hills as the caravan approached Moridgale after hours of travel. 

The heavy trotting of the rocheros’ gradually slowed as they reached the town gates, where a figure stood patiently awaiting their arrival. 

"Welcome, Prince Laurence and companions!" Her voice rang out clear and strong, cutting through the quiet creaking of the carriages as they settled into stillness. 

The leader of Moridgale's town council stood tall, her honey eyes alight with enthusiasm as her forest green gown fluttered lightly in the breeze.

"Thank you," Laurence replied, leaning out the window to smile down at her cordially. 

"Myself and the rest of the council were so pleased to learn our town would be your first stop. I’d like to personally show you and your companions the accommodations we prepared for you. Please follow me," she gestured grandly toward the gates, setting off at a brisk pace for the carriages to trail.

Laurence’s eyes left her to roam around Moridgale's wooden architecture. The buildings were further spread out, with far more greenery than he was used to seeing in Dondor. 

"So charming," Laurence remarked, more to himself than anyone else.

"Cozy is how I would describe it," Barton chimed in as he surveyed their surroundings with an experienced eye.

The few townsfolk currently walking around outside paused to stare and murmur in amazement at the fancy vehicles passing slowly by on their simple dirt roads. 

"Here we are," the council leader announced before long, standing in front of an inn that resembled a massive storybook cottage.

It was four stories tall and three times wider than any other structure in the town. Small flower boxes adorned every window, overflowing with vibrant pastel blooms. A comforting herbal aroma wafted out invitingly from its open doors, beckoning them to rest.

Laurence, his knights, and the advisors, all disembarked from their carriages and stretched their stiff limbs before they were shown inside the establishment. 

The prince's gaze darted from the polished beams and lobby furniture, to the intricate paintings hung up on the walls; all a testament to Moridgale's craftsmanship.

"Your Highness, the chambers we prepared for you are located on the third floor," the council leader directed, moving toward the staircase.

Avril stepped forward, cutting off Laurence’s movement by placing himself between the prince and the woman. "I'll need to thoroughly inspect the room before His Highness is to set foot in there," he informed, tone cloyingly sweet. "Can't be too careful with our precious prince after all."

Laurence bristled, and hissed,  "That won't be necessary, Avril. I'm sure our hosts have taken every precaution."

"It most certainly is necessary," Avril countered defiantly, looking back at Laurence as if he thought the prince was being particularly dim. "Who knows what tragedy would befall you were I not to ensure your room is as safe as a toddler's nursery."

Laurence's jaw clenched at Avril's public insolence. He opened his mouth to retort, but Barton's heavy hand dropping down onto his shoulder gave him pause.

"Your Highness," Barton interjected gently, "I'm afraid I must agree with Avril on this matter. It’s standard procedure for us to scan any unfamiliar locations. Especially places where you expect to rest your head."

Laurence still appeared fit to protest, until Barton continued, "It would also ease all our minds."

The prince's shoulders sagged, the will to argue deflating. "Very well," he conceded, not wanting to appear childishly obtuse.

Avril smirked triumphantly, having no such concerns and therefore more than willing to gloat.

Curtly, Barton turned to address five of the knights present. "Jorah, Eulad, Kiren, Millis, and Fenora—sweep the inn. Top to bottom. Report anything unusual."

The knights named saluted sharply and immediately dispersed, their boots echoing on the polished floors as they fanned out through the building.

"Now then," the council leader called out, wholly unfazed by the interruption. "Shall we proceed?"

She led the remaining group up a grand staircase, its railings decoratively carved with intricate leaves and vines. Laurence's fingertips trailed along the wood, marveling at the craftsmanship.

They ascended to the third floor where a long hallway stretched before them with plush rugs that muffled their footsteps. The prince felt as if he were walking on a cloud.

From a few steps behind, Reya's keen eyes caught the glimmer of fascination in Laurence's gaze. She decided to seize the moment as a teaching opportunity.

"Your Highness, have you ever heard of roofoofs?" She asked, her voice brimming with enthusiasm.

Laurence glanced back at her and shook his head, curiosity piqued.

Reya's eyes lit up. "These rugs are woven from their wool. Roofoofs are small creatures, about the size of a loaf of bread, with the softest, silkiest fur you can imagine."

Listening ahead of them, the council leader nodded in agreement, smiling proudly. "Indeed, they're plentiful and well loved in Moridgale. Our artisans have perfected the art of spinning and dyeing their wool."

Giving into temptation, Laurence crouched and ran his fingers through the rug's plush fibers. "It's incredibly soft," he marveled.

"The roofoofs are tended with utmost care," Reya continued. "They're not sheared like common livestock, but gently combed. The process is time-consuming, but it ensures the highest quality wool without harming the animals."

Standing silently behind them, Barton was likely the only one to notice how Avril appeared to be listening attentively as well. Despite the young knight’s best efforts to appear disinterested, his eyes darted between Reya and the rug, hand twitching as if resisting the urge to copy Laurence’s perusal.

Barton only raised an eyebrow, keeping his thoughts to himself.

"Your chambers, Your Highness," the council leader announced, grasping onto the handle of a door in the center of the hallway.

As soon as she pulled it open Avril briskly stepped past the council leader and entered first, eyes scanning every corner. 

Barton and the three remaining knights of Laurence’s guard followed, fanning out across the spacious chamber.

The prince huffed as he and his advisors were made to wait in the hallway. 

Every inch of the room and even those adjacent to it were searched thoroughly, the knights executing the task with practiced efficiency.

“Clear,” Barton eventually announced.

Laurence walked across the threshold, intrigued by the layout of the room, which was actually four living spaces connected horizontally. To his left and right, doors stood ajar, and his advisors were already wandering into their connected quarters to look around and claim their beds. 

"Your knights are stationed on either side of these chambers, to make sure you and your advisors are well protected," the council leader explained.

"Appreciated," Laurence acknowledged, nodding approvingly. 

"I will leave you to get settled, Your Highness, but if I may make a suggestion first?"

"Yes?" He replied, curious.

"Our inn boasts one of the finest bathhouses in all of Loros. After your long journey, I thought you might appreciate a chance to relax and rejuvenate."

The prince's eyes widened. He'd heard tales and read about communal bathhouses, but he’d never gotten the opportunity to experience it himself. The prospect fascinated him..

"I’ll be sure to try it,” he replied.

The council leader turned to leave, promising to have dinner brought up for them all later. However, she barely made it three steps into the hallway before colliding with Barton, who had just emerged from checking the knights’ quarters. 

"My apologies, madam. I should have been more careful," He said kindly, strong hands grasping her upper arms to steady her.

Her honey eyes appraised him from top to bottom. She then straightened up and adopted a more casual tone as she replied, "It was more my fault. I apologize as well."

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced," Barton realized. His gaze swept over the woman only half a head shorter than his considerable height, appreciation evident in his eyes. "I'm Barton, captain of Prince Laurence’s guard. Thank you for the hospitality you’ve shown us thus far."

"Pleasure to meet you, Captain," she replied, her voice melodic. "I am Armella, Moridgale Council Representative."

As they proceeded to stand there silently observing each other, seemingly engaged in a wordless conversation no one else was privy to, neither of them noticed how utterly baffled Laurence appeared as he watched their exchange.

The prince quickly shook his head and deliberately turned away, walking further into his room. He wanted to put a fair amount of distance between himself and whatever that encounter was supposed to be.

With his advisors in the adjacent rooms, most of the other knights in the hallway discussing security details, and Barton… distracted, Laurence was left alone in his chambers.

Well, almost alone.

“I take it you don’t plan to stay with the other knights,“ Laurence assumed, walking closer to the window Avril had chosen to linger beside.

In response, Avril raised a hand and wiggled his gloved fingers toward Laurence tauntingly, smiling. 

Always. Smiling.

Laurence sighed, running a hand through his hair. The room suddenly felt smaller, more confining. He walked to the far side where a slim bookshelf rested, putting distance between them.

Though mild annoyance flickered within Laurence, stoked as usual by Avril's perfunctory demeanor, he did not have the energy to hold onto it. 

As he inhaled and then released a calming breath, the council leader's parting words about the bathhouse reentered his mind. 

A relaxing soak sounded ideal right about now.