Graff made good time past the borderhold's small villages and soon the trees started to space themselves out. Coming up over a hill, he saw the tree line. Past it was a large walled town. "Thorn, what is this place?"
Thorn restlessly shrugged himself off Graff's skin and leaped to the ground. "That is a mercenary's winter village. A good place to get a change of clothes that are not so... ritualist. I hate to tell you this Graff but you really do stick out."
Graff smacked the dragon across the side of his head. Thorn rolled his eyes, "well go on then. I'll catch up with you once you are done there and on your way."
Graff nodded, striding forward confidently. Heading down the hill and crossing the grassy plain, he noted the farms and gardens planted around the walled town. This place was definitely self sufficient. Reaching the gate, he signed in with the guards and got directions. Clothes was only one item on his list. There wasn't an inn since everyone living here were all part of the same mercenary company. They each had their cabin or stayed in a barracks. No, he would need to find a place that solely sold food and drink. That would be where the gossip was.
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