"How many silvers, say, three nights?" Cendric said, in a easy-going manner, waggling his coin purse.

After asking a local for directions, he learned Lakeside Inn was only a few minutes away from the smithy. The inn was one of two available in town, the other was a local adventurer guild. And it was more of a series of communal bunkbeds than actual rooms. For now Lakeside's cozy interior and modest wood furnishings would do.

The olive skin, sharp-eyed girl, at the desk, clicked her tongue.

"Sir, as I said. We charge a dozen silvers per night. That's three nights, do the numbers..."

Cendric didn't bother dining a response, instead he scratched the back of his head and smiled stupidly.

[Lets see if she can catch on.]

Today he'd be playing the idiot son, of a non-existent rich man. The Inn wasn't luxurious, but it was the best in town and affordable. He was sure she dealt with the likes of his 'noble' ilk, and similar attitudes. The receptionist probably had it worse; Young, probably eighteen or nineteen. A delicately proportioned face with low cheek bones and alluring honey warm eyes. She had a slender figure, tanned and freckled from numerous hours out in the sun.

A picture definition of an diamond in the rough. In a town like this, there was no shortage of males lusting after her. Cendric would be another nameless face among the dozens she rejected.

And this is exactly how he wanted it, odds are she'll forget their brief encounter.

[Had she been born in less fortunate surroundings, in the city: they'd have probably married her off for a hefty price, or had her working at the brothels.]

"Thirty-six silvers," She said slowly, as if teaching a child how to add for the first time, "That's twelve today. Another tommorow. And the day after."

Cendric waved her off, dropping his heavy purse on the table. And proceeded to drop the coins one by one.

"For today," He winked, placing the twelth coin on the table. "Tommorow," [Damnit, that's my money, I killed for this.] With great flourish Cendric placed the final silver, "And— the day after."

[All-mother if you're listening, if they don't have the best service there is... All I'm saying is those beds better be spotless.] To be fair the inn was reasonably priced, but growing up without a copper to his name. It hurt Cendric no matter the price, to part ways with his coin.

As the receptionist swept the coins into her hand, Cendric leaned in close.

"Say, how much to buy you a drink?" He asked, despite already knowing the answer.

"Unfortunately, no one will be replacing me today."

"You sure? My father is a very influential man, not here, but outside of Crestwood..."

"Very. Now if there's nothing else, here are your keys." The conversation ended with Cendric being handed his room key.

[Such a nice girly.] Cendric mused, as he adjust the straps of his bag to the other side. [Woe to the bastard that breaks her heart.]

Wordlessly, he pocketed it in a small leather pouch, then it too disappeared within his vest. Trying not seem to excited at the prospect of sleeping in a soft bed. Cendric leisurely moved past the receptionist, who was now mindless flipping through a ledger, into the hallway beside her.

-------

Rays of natural light flood the hall from several carefully placed glass panes. Walls burnt orange, made of cob (a clay-sand based cement), assault Cendric from either side. The experience was nauseating, to say the least. Suddenly, the wood polished floor became alot more interesting.

[I almost feel bad for scuffing their floors, gods know where my boots have been.]

At the end of the hallway laid a staircase Cendric walked toward. It lead to the second floor where his bedroom beckoned to him. He was meet with another hallway yet again, a near-replica of the one downstairs.

"21...22, 23..." Cendric muttered, as he went by several doors. The keys the receptionist had given him were scratched with the number, '25'.

[24 —There it is.] His room stood at the farside across from door 26. Instinctively, he actived his blessing. Sensing no presence behind, Cendric inserted the key into the hole, and with a twist, he stepped inside.

A window, a drawer, and one bed with fresh sheets. [Nothing out of the ordinary, but it's clean enough.]

The curtains were left ajar with the window raised, likely to air out the room. For now, they'd stay open. Later when the sun began to set, he'd close them. Curiosity satisfied, Cendric immediately set about arranging the room to his liking.

His first task was setting an alarm at the door and window. It's simple really, attaching something (this case a tiny bell) to a piece of string. And then nailing it on the wall, via whetstone or pommel. The result: A bell jingles, Cendric would wake, and the intruder would find themselves facing the business end of a dagger.

[Call me paranoid, but I don't care how reputable of a place this might be.] Reputation never stopped Cendric from carrying out any of his orders.

Next, he stashed his newly acquired dagger underneath the pillow he'd be sleeping on tonight. He tossed his arming sword aside, followed by his meager belongings a moment later. Finally, Cendric kicked off his boots and stripped himself to his trousers.

The bed was soft, as if floating on a cloud. Drowsyness swept over him like a tidal wave; combined with exhaustion and the fact he was still using his blessing. Cendric was fast sleep.