Sam stared at Zen solemnly. Zen had a mug of ale in his hand while he sat on a stool next to the bar. The inn was almost empty except for those two and the barkeep.

“Are you two always this silent?”

“It’s been a month. Cheer up,” Zen said, looking straight ahead.

“More than two if you count the time you spent in there,” Sam said.

Zen waved over to ask for a refill, chugging down the rest of his drink. He turned away from Sam, now facing the barkeep.

“Charles, any news?”

Charles frowned.

“We’re right out of good meat,” Charles said, lost in thought.

Zen sighed. There was no way Charles would let the inn be out of meat.

“Where’s Raz?” said Zen, glancing at Sam.

“He’s gone to Virien,” said Sam, his head now looking downwards,“he’s not going to be back for another month.”

Silence filled the room. It didn’t look like any conversation would go past a few replies; Sam just couldn’t act normal about Zen. Neither of them could, and neither of them wanted to. Zen forgave Sam, but he didn’t trust him a single bit anymore. And Sam wanted things to be the exact opposite. He wanted to suffer; to be yelled at, to suffer; and he wanted to be trusted. Charles knew Sam had suffered too while Zen was in there. He had visited the inn every day when Zen was gone, and everyday when Zen was back in here. All because he was riddled with guilt and a conscience that was just harmful for a man of his trade.

It made for a very tiresome situation, one that Zen had no intention of trying to solve. Zen would have cared about Sam before. But Zen was the one who had changed the most.

“Sam, can you leave, please?”

Sam got up. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” He walked out the door silently, gritting his teeth.

“He means the best, you know,” Charles said, looking over at Zen,”You should try getting some sunlight. Breath some fresh air outside this place.”

“Maybe? How long did he say it’s been?” Zen stretched out his arms, letting out a yawn. “3 weeks since I came back?”

“Sounds about right.”

Zen leaned towards Charles, his eyes sharper than it had been a few moments ago. He let out a toothy grin, his canines sharp.

“Is it time?”

“Strange teeth. Like a vampire.” Charles took out a silver coin and flipped it, then caught it with his palm to bring it down to Zen’s arm. “Just checking.”

“The amount of sense that doesn’t make almost made me forget you changed the topic back there,” Zen said, shrugging off Charles, “so what’s new?”

Charles sighed. “I promised to tell you if you stayed still then, so slow down.”

“I didn’t think you would actually tell me,” Zen said.

“That’s not helping your case,” Charles said, taking a seat next to Zen. He cleared his throat and slicked his fingers through his blonde hair.

“I heard about it from some drunk who said he knew about the bloodborn.”

“You didn’t say anything about the bloodborn back then,” Zen said.

“They were just a name then. Would it have changed anything?”

Zen shook his head. “Continue.”

“Like I was saying, there was a man who had a little too much that night. He was a little beat up, but I thought it was just one of those street brawls. He kept swearing about the church, bringing in the bloodborn’s name every now and then. I helped him outside when it was late and he couldn’t stand up on his own, and he thanked me and told me about the bell tower.”

Zen waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.

“That’s it?” Zen said, “You told me it would ring because some drunk thought it would?”

Charles frowned. “I know when somebody is telling the truth. You… I can’t explain it to you. He had the Rwedar insignia on his coat,” Charles paused, “One of their soldiers, probably.”

“What about the bloodborn? What happened that night?”

Charles raised his eyebrow.

“You didn’t know?”

“I want to hear it from you.”

Charles stood up, brushed off his apron, and returned behind the bar. He stood, polishing a bottle.

“Group of thugs. Some say they have magic,” Charles laughed, then regained his composure.

“I heard they killed the priest and spilt his blood on the altar.”

Zen’s expression stayed perfectly still, almost as if Charles almost hadn’t said something unbelievable.

“That archpriest? I saw him call a dragon once," Zen said, eagerly waiting for more. Though nothing was heard after.

Zen sighed. He knew Charles could say a lot more, but wouldn’t. He was satisfied that he was starting to tell him something, though he was still desperately waiting for the next tidbit of information that he would get.

“Maybe I should go out somewhere,” Zen said, “Where to, though? I’m a wanted criminal now.” Zen looked at Charles, only to find him quickly smirking back.

“Everybody on this side of town is.”

Zen raised his eyebrows at that. It wasn’t the first time Charles had said that, and it felt eerily true. Knell street had a bunch of peculiar shops and it was at the west corner of the city; Farthest from the church and castle, and most places of authority.

Zen blew upwards, making his long hair sway. It was wavy, almost covering his eyes. He had a bit of a beard too, something he couldn’t get rid of completely without a good blade.

“I need to do something about my hair. Do you know someone?”

“What about your hair?”

“I want to dye it.”

“What? You’ll just stand out.”

“I already stand out. And I can just go around with my hood on,” Zen said.

Charles let out a long breath. “You know Aunt Hanna. Her sister came to town, she’s a bit of a brewer, I think. She could help.”

Zen got up and walked towards the door, waving at Charles.

“See you.”