The Domini saga : lich lords favor

The concealed path meets the ordinary road beneath thinning woodland. Kynes and Bren leave the new house behind, while Mara steps out after them with her travel cloak fastened and her letter tucked safely away.

They follow the road north, leaving the hidden approach and its private silence behind. The trees open gradually, revealing smoke from cookfires, wagon tracks, and the distant roofs of Phandelver.

Phandelver appears lively in the afternoon light. Traders call from widened stalls, carpenters repair ordinary homes, and familiar streets carry people who have resumed lives beyond old battles and buried dangers.

At the market square, Mara turns toward the baker’s familiar awning while Bren guides Kynes toward the household stalls. The three separate with an easy agreement, each free to follow the afternoon as chosen.

Mara crosses toward the bakery at her own pace, cloak loosening in the afternoon warmth. Kynes and Bren find a cloth merchant’s folded linens, choosing durable pieces sized for the guest room, bedroom, and kitchen.

At the neighboring stall, Kynes selects sturdy iron kitchen hooks and enough lamp oil for the new rooms. His trained eye catches a cracked stopper and a weak hook before either can be packed, and sound replacements take their place.

The purchases are wrapped and secured for the road home. From the bakery, warm bread-scented air drifts across the square, and Mara’s unhurried visit continues without interruption.

Kynes leaves Phandelver behind and arrives at a tavern.

The tavern is a low, timbered room smelling of roasted onions, spilled ale, and fresh rushes. An elderly man with a bent nose and silver beard polishes a tankard behind the counter, while the nearest tables remain peacefully empty.

Kynes and Bren claim a corner beneath a narrow window. From there, the market square is visible through rippling glass, but the tavern’s muted warmth keeps the baker’s conversation far beyond interruption.

The keeper approaches with two cups of spiced cider, setting them down without asking for an order. He gives Kynes a quick, appraising glance, then nods toward the quiet window seat.

Bren lifts her cup, watching sunlight move across the tabletop. Outside, Phandelver carries on without calling for them, leaving the afternoon open for Mara and the simple pleasure of waiting.

The keeper stops polishing the tankard. His appraising glance sharpens, and he leans one elbow against the counter while Bren listens without turning from the window.

He sets the cloth aside and lowers his voice. The gossip is freely given, but his expression makes clear that Kynes has been placed among those who ask questions with purpose.

The keeper has answered completely, but the cost settles between them as a quiet expectation of notice. Bren finally turns from the window, studying him over her cider.

The keeper studies Kynes for a long moment, measuring the reassurance against the quiet confidence behind it. Bren remains still beside the window, giving him room to answer freely.

The keeper’s thumb circles the rim of the tankard. His voice stays level, but the phrase has clearly lingered with him longer than ordinary road gossip.

Kynes glances toward the wrapped linens, iron hooks, and lamp oil gathered beside Bren. The ordinary goods offer no useful disguise or reason to linger, so the question can wait.

The keeper nods toward the market, accepting the promise without pressing for more. Kynes and Bren collect their purchases, leaving the quiet corner and the stranger’s abandoned table behind.

They cross the square toward the baker’s awning, where Mara waits with her bundle and folded letter. Afternoon light catches her travel cloak as she turns at their approach.

Bren checks the wrapped linens, hooks, and oil, then adds the baker’s rolls to the bundle. Her inventory is practical, complete, and ready for the road home.

Mara settles the rolls securely atop the household goods. Bren looks once toward the market, then turns toward the northern road, satisfied that their first town visit has served its purpose.