85th of Dusk, 102

All eyes in the Maiden’s Wing turned to Kael and Marcus as the door shut behind them. Kael shook the rain off his cloak, then pulled down his hood. The tables in the common room were full; men placing their mugs down in confusion as their eyes locked onto the embroidered golden eye on both men's chests. The pair approached the counter at the end of the common room. The innkeeper seemed as awestruck as the rest of the men.

“Welcome…Do you need a room, or can I get you a table?” The innkeeper was a short young man, his tight tunic showing a stocky build.

“A room, please,” Marcus said, reaching into his heavy leather satchel.

The innkeeper eyed the satchel. “Please, on the house, my honor to host Sentinels.”

“You are kind,” Marcus grumbled, pulling his hand out of the satchel and wiping his brow. “A glass of pinol too, if you would.”

“Of course.” The innkeeper scanned the common room. “Elia, get him a glass of pinol.”

A maid was serving a group of laughing older men. She rushed over nervously, placing her tray down and turning to Marcus. “Light or heavy on the corn?”

Marcus frowned. “Err…I don’t know how you make it. Medium?” The woman smiled nervously, rushing off moments later towards the door behind the counter. Marcus opened his satchel, pulling out a bundle of folded parchments, maybe four or five. Each one was sealed with the golden eye of Aemir. “Could you point me to a courier, innkeeper?”

“Yes,” the innkeeper said, then focused his attention past the Sentinels, towards the crowded common room. “Pellen!” he called out.

A middle-aged man came rushing over seconds later. He was a scraggly young fellow, dressed in a light raincoat. Marcus gave him the papers. “Get these to every bishop in town,” the Sentinel instructed, “tell them it’s urgent.”

“Of course, sir. My honor.” The courier turned to leave, then paused, scratched his head, and turned back. “Well…They are most likely in their homes right now. When should I deliver them?”

Marcus turned back to face the courier. “By dawn at least, before they leave for opening prayer.”

“Of course, sir."

Marcus turned away from the courier. "Good night.”

“Good night to you, sir.” The courier returned to his table.

The innkeeper finished writing in his ledger. “I can show you your rooms, if you are ready.” He handed Marcus the key, then led the way.

Marcus turned his head towards Kael as he followed the innkeeper. “Kael, bring me that glass of pinol, would you?”

“I will.” Kael stopped following them. The Sentinel waited upright by the counter until the maid returned. After some waiting, she returned. “I will take it,” he said, outstretching his hand.

“Here you go, sir.” She handed him the glass. It was filled with a brown, milky liquid. It looked unappetizing. “Is there anything else I can get you?” She asked, staring up at him.

“No.” Kael turned around and made his way towards the stairs.

“Good night, sir.” Elia hurried off towards a tabl,e calling out for assistance.

The innkeeper came down the stairs, meeting Kael at the base. “Room 3, sir.” Kael nodded, and continued past him. The innkeeper stopped, watching Kael as he advanced towards the second floor, then spoke, “If you don’t mind me asking, has something happened in our city?”

Kael did not slow his pace, continuing up the stairs. “We are here to do our duties, which do not concern you.”

“I see, sorry to bother you,” the innkeeper said from below the stairwell. “Please, if you need anything, I am here.”

“I’ll take that,” Marcus said as Kael entered their room. He sat at a desk lit by a candle, writing on a parchment. Kael walked over to him and set the glass down by his side. Marcus scratched at his beard, littered with strands of gray hair.  Placing his quill into the quill stand, he grabbed the glass of Pinol. “First time in Tairos, believe it or not. I’ve always wanted to try this.” He took a sip, and his eyes widened. He offered the glass to Kael.

“Thank you, but I’m not thirsty,” the Sentinel said.

“Please, it tastes amazing. It’s sweet, but not too sweet. Better than anything we have up north.” Marcus held the glass closer to Kael.

I do not want to drink this. He reluctantly took a sip. It was very sweet, creamy, and riddled with spices he could not identify. He put it back down. That was unpleasant. “It’s fine.”

“Better than fine.” Marcus took another sip. “What do they put in this? It’s amazing.” He shook his head in disbelief, placing the glass back down. “You ought to order a glass,” he remarked, returning to his writing.

Kael didn’t respond. He placed his satchel beside one of the two beds in the room. He placed his sheathed sword on top of it. “What is the plan for tomorrow?”

Marcus finished writing and folded the parchment. “We’ll be meeting with the bishops at lunchtime.” He placed the folded parchment in a letter. “I’ll ask the questions, you’ll do the writing.” He waxed the letter and sealed it.

“Understood.”

Kael reached under his cloak and undid the small metal clasps around the bottom of his neck. He pulled the cloak off over his head and hung it up next to Marcus’ on the door, then set himself down on his bed. He closed his eyes.