Susie
*`A building positioned in the heart of the residencies of the Second Floor's commons. It is moderately larger than the rest of the buildings that surround it, boasting a stone foundation and generally more robust architecture.`*

Through the dense darkness and ever-present enshrouding silence, Abstral would make his way blindly through the midst of the residencies of the village, in whose obfuscation would allow him only to see the vague silhouettes of buildings ever-flanking his left and his right before swiftly dissipating into the indistinct masslessness of the shadowy haze which captured the whole of the commons. The sight of Kuouo and Taash would soon grow distant as the three split up, and as they split further and farther apart, Abstral would ultimately lose sight of both two, left only to himself in his search of the commons.

It was both a curse and a blessing to travel in such incredible darkness and silence — certainly, it made it harder to navigate the region, yet so too did it provide the boon of hiding away the outsider within the obscurity of the illusion of moonlessness. Every footstep he took through the shallow snow was dampened in its noise, as if snuffed out in the very moment that it originated; while he could, indeed, hear the own noises he was producing, they were incredibly quieted, as if suppressed significantly before ever reaching his ears. Such a strange disparity in his senses would, of course, be somewhat disorienting, but so long as he grew used to it, it could only serve for his good... As long as he did not encounter *Whatever else was hidden in this illusion.*

...
_ _

Darkened homes of ashen wood, lacking of windows with doors shut tight, were all that crossed Abstral's eyes as he paced swiftly through the darkness of the commons. There was scarce a place he could even see that he could viably *Enter,* Let alone find *Useful information from.* His search would turn up moot for moments on end. That was, until, finally, almost minutes in to his trek through the snow, he saw *Something, anything, of redeeming value* — a moderately-larger-than-normal building, with much more professional architecture than the homely and lesser-built residencies that surrounded it.

Two frosted windows flanked its sole door of darkwood, both so opaque that he could hardly see anything beyond them, and especially so due to the darkness which hindered his vision. Its door yet remained untested, yet, were he to further investigate, he would swift discover that **Its entry was unlocked,** In stark contrast to whatever other building he may have attempted to enter in the early stages of his search.

While he could enter as he pleased, there was a strange tension that surrounded the atmosphere of the building. When one's preceding five senses are constricted, an individual is forced to adapt in their sixth: intuition. And his intuition, now, warned him that, despite the utter silence of the building, *Something* Lied within.
William
As he headed towards and through the housings, keeping an eye out for the other mercenaries along the way, Abstral would come upon, or rather in the darkness, stumble upon a building that stood out among those that he had passed, if only because of its larger and more professional looking nature. It loomed before him, grand and imposing.

He would have to be cautious, as he had traversed this far, he already had the feeling that he was being watched, and in the darkness, it was indeed possible that there were eyes on him now that he could not see. Heading slowly up to the doorway of the building, he tried the door, only to be surprised at it being unlocked.

The chill that went down his spine had little to do with the cold. This all seemed too easy, perhaps he was being led here by forces unseen. This "Witness" Perhaps? He hoped not. 

All the more ominous seemed the darkness of the building's interior that now lie in front of him. He could *Feel* Something in there, he could only hope it was a some*One* And not a some*Thing*, and that, despite Taash's words, they were friendly. In any case it was too late to turn back now.

He stepped into the building and used a bit of his magic to bring his Aura to life. Not enough so that the white outline around his body would be visible to anyone around him, but just enough so that he shone and became a dim light passing through the otherwise dark building.

Cautiously, he called out.

```"Hello? Is anyone in here? I come in peace, so please if you are there, do not attack.```
Susie
The door creaks open, and warm air gusts from beyond its wooden frame. Intuition only further piqued as the outsider stepped foot into the midst of the peculiar building, and, while its interior was comfortable in temperature, the persistent warnings of such a sixth sense would only build discomfort as he trespassed on its midst. Despite all its silence, he felt *Watched.*

Dark, vast, yet crowded — the appearance of chairs, tables, and other various furniture spread throughout the midst of its dim interior some distance ahead of Abstral immediately after he entered — the peculiar building would seem anything *But* A residence, lacking anything besides tables and chairs. It was all too big for a single person, and lacked any sort of housing-furniture that would suggest its purpose as such a location. With all the tables and chairs scattered around Abstral — some knocked to the floor, some pushed up against their respective tables — he would swift come to the conclusion that this place was no simple housing, but rather what seemed to be a *Tavern,* Of sorts.

*`Splatter.`*

As his foot steps forward, it creaks subtly against the mostly-well-kept wooden floor, but not before coming in contact with something... Liquid. Something warm, something dark in color, and with a slightly thicker consistency than that of water. The liquid splatters up against his shoe, staining it in its distinct color. Yes, as he looked down, in the darkness, and took in the sight and scent of that which he stepped into, it instantaneously was made clear to him what, exactly, it was. Its color was unmistakable; its hue and scent made it recognizable at first glance. It was something absolutely unpleasant to stain one's clothes with...


*Coffee.*

_ _

Fortunately, he did not stumble onto the scene of a crime today.
The aromatic scent of coffee wafts up toward Abstral as he splattered the pooling puddle of beverage, poured across the floor from a wooden mug that seems to have been discarded rather hastily. And, in fact, *Many* Things, now that he gained clearer sight of them, seemed to be strewn across the abandoned tavern in haste. Cloths, plates, more mugs, beverages — it's as if the establishment was swiftly evacuated, and judging from the warmth of the coffee that stained the brim of his pantleg, it was evacuated not long ago.

That would only beg the question — what was weighing on his *Intuitio-*
Sarah
***"Don't move."***

Opposite Abstral, and located all the way at the back of the tavern, behind its wooden counter, was the faint glimmer of eyes' reflections, peeking up at him. And slightly below those eyes... A *Weapon.*

**A ranged weapon. A *Crossbow.* One with a silvery bolt locked and loaded, its sharpened end aimed straight toward Abstral.**

The one who held it in her grasp possessed the white hair characteristic of nearly every resident of the Second Floor — though slightly more ashen in hue than that of the hair of the heir Abstral had earlier met, Ochre — her eyes of a desaturated olive-green wide-open and eerily focused on the outsider who intruded on her tavern. Her hands were utterly unmoving, perfectly stable as they clasped the handle of the crossbow, left finger outstretched and not placed directly atop its trigger. Abstral could hardly catch sight of her even moving as she unflinchingly threatened him from across the entire length of the tavern, not allowing one sign of weakness to surface on her pale visage.

But as her eyes continue to stare and stare, unblinkingly, she squinted in slight, her head tilting ever-subtly. The first sign expression of emotion would manifest itself on her face, and that emotion would be *Confusion,* Or so it seemed.

"...Oh."
"I was expecting someone else."

The crossbow clicked slightly as she adjusted her aim up, toward the roof, disarming her threat as she averted the weapon from the outsider. She shot a peculiar stare at the one in the doorway as she slung the crossbow over her left shoulder, standing upright from behind the counter — at a height of about 178cm — allowing a moment of silence. She, seemingly for no reason at all, dropped all hostile intent after intently glaring at Abstral for some time.

How odd...
...But not unexpected.
As both Ochre and Taash earlier spoke, Abstral had a boon that no other outsider possessed — his *White hair.*

*`Clic...`*
*`Clic...`*
*`Spark!`*
_ _

—she struck a peculiar sort of rock, akin to flint but with more blue undertones, into a small tinderbox. As its char-cloth glowed alight, its warm, reddish glow faintly illumined her proximity, as she plucked up the handle of the tinderbox, pressing its splint against two candles located on either side of the counter. The candles indeed caught flame, granting a tender light to the rear of the tavern, illuminating about a third of its interior.

"No good to be wandering around in the village in the state it's in."
*"You... Aren't from this part of town, are ya?"*

"Cause this ain't a sanctuary—I'll tell you that much."

Her hostility had abated, but absolutely not her suspicion. The outsider indeed possessed white hair and blended smoothly in with the rest of the village's residency, but what of his nature? His demeanor? And his knowingness of his general surroundings? Most people, in times of emergency, don't seek out *Taverns...*
William
Hearing no response to his call, and yet still feeling that **Someone was watching him**, he carefully crept through the building, scanning his surroundings, which had gotten easier due to the light from his aura. This place didn't seem very home-like, lacking any furniture other than strewn about tables and chairs that he passed by.

Perhaps this wasn't a house after all, perhaps it was a-

The feel of liquid against his shoe interrupted his thoughts but also re-affirmed them. He carefully dipped a finger in the liquid and smelled it, both the smell and the appearance making it very clear that it was in fact, coffee, not that he himself was familiar with the drink's taste though he had smelled it many times before in his adventures.

He stepped around the pool of coffee, glancing at the mug from which it spilled, briefly, before coming upon even more items strewn about. This definitely seemed like some kind of abandoned bar or tavern, but then if it was abandoned what explained his feeling of being watched?


He got his answer quickly as from the darkness ahead of him a voice suddenly. He first heard the voice then saw the light cast across the stranger and then finally the figure's weapon. It was a white-haired individual, which Abstral expected since he was told that the civilians had that in common with both each other and himself, and the sole reason why he could afford to be a little less discrete.

He took in the figure's other features, she appeared to be female though he could not of course, be sure, but most importantly she seemed ready to kill him if he moved further, which was of course, rather unfortunate for him.

And yet before he could even explain himself, the figure had again spoken and changed her expression, seeming to be confused and her words indicating she was expecting someone indeed, but not him.

Abstral eased as she pointed the crossbow away from him and upon her shoulder. She had been keeping eye contact with him this entire time
Sarah
The tavernkeep persisted in her suspicions of the outsider, her eyes of faded olive still wide-open and peering as she remained unbroken and unblinking in her offsetting glare toward the outsider. Still with hand lightly in grip about the handle of the crossbow, she perked an ear as the outsider began to explain himself, his face faintly illumined by the distant light of the candle. Her attention seemed acute, and her unwavering posture undeniably demonstrated that she was still skeptical of the man, her head lightly swaying from left-to-right as she weighed what he said.

*"Hmmmmmm."*

She enunciated, as her fingers slipped about the handle of the crossbow, slowly lowering it below the counter. The words he spoke would be peculiar, to most, and exceptionally suspicious — but to the tavernkeep, it seemed to strike a spot most tender. It was a very, *Very* Familiar story to her. *Waking up in the dark and the cold beyond the town without recollection of where, how, or when one was born...*

"All right..."

*`Clic.`*
_ _

The crossbow subtly clicked as she released it from her grip, setting it in its rightful place beneath the counter. Easing her wide-open glare, the tavernkeep — still standing — took a step forward, leaning against the counter as she appeared to disperse both a majority of her suspicions, as well as any open signs of combat-readiness. Abstral had proven himself to be a civil person without signs of hostile intent, and his story, through indirect evoking of Tove's own memory, garnered her basic trust.

"Yeap."
"It's a tavern, sure as it seems."
"Beans procured locally, miraculous as that may seem. I do all the workin'. From the harvesting to the brewing to the cleaning, it's all me."
"My place, one and only."

—she said, her tone loose and almost bored in the way she spoke. Propping her head up with her left hand, elbow leaned against the counter, the tavernkeep locked eyes with the outsider.

*"Tove."*
She spoke with such conclusive tone that it seemed she expected him to immediately understand what she meant by saying such a thing. *Tove.* Her name. What else could it be?

"The guests all scampered off 'cause the barrier's up."
"Tokko's barrier. You would've noticed it, with all that darkness. Pret-ty hard to miss."

*"'Abstral,' you said.* Mmm. Can't say it sounds all too familiar. Well, I haven't met you in the first place, but..."
"...Doesn't sound like a name you'd hear 'round these parts."
"Luckily, I was given a name that tended to fit in with the rest of the commonfolk..."

"What a coincidence... An *Amnesiac...*"

She closed her eyes, pondering away with that finishing sentence.
William
Abstral sighed internally as, though she still remained suspicious, this stranger seemingly believed his lie. He listened intently to her words as her demeanor towards him relaxed, especially the answers to his questions.

Ah, so this was her tavern, her's and only hers.

Seems like hard work, Abstral thought to himself.

She then gave him her name, Tove.

Abstral nodded when she mentioned the barrier and internally cursed himself for not including it as a factor in his story, she could have called him out on that, but at least he could be grateful that she didn't.

Small alarms did go off in his head as she said his name and cited how out of place it was, hopefully it wouldn't rouse suspicion, same with her mentioning him being an amnesiac (according to his fake story) as a "Coincidence".

At the risk of giving too much away / sounding far too inquisitive, he asked a few more questions.

```"Ah, yes I did see something akin to a barrier as I got here, or rather I suppose *Didn't* See it due to the darkness and all, heh. If you don't mind me asking, is this place under attack? Why was this barrier summoned and the patrons of this place fleeing? You seemed prepared to attack when I came in here and thought me someone else, someone dangerous perhaps?" ```
Sarah
The tavernkeep raised her visage in response to the outsider's ensuing question, her eyes opening from closed into a slight squint toward the stranger opposite herself. There was an ever-persistent, habitual mien of apathy on Tove's face — almost as though she was either all too spiritless or all too bored to truly display any emotion one way or another — but her expression was not for a display of any inherent issue she had with what Abstral was saying. Of course, she wasn't typically disposed toward just answering questions or providing any sort of service without receiving something in return, but, even then, she didn't find any contempt in her spirit to give to the one who had (deceitfully) revealed himself an amnesiac. Rather, it was simply Tove's way of life to be held between responsible interest and pure, overworked lassitude; her perpetual spirit and appearance of distant disinterestedness was simply born of her intrinsic nature.

...Also, perhaps, several years too long in eternity had dulled her edge of interest in, well... Appreciating things. Anything, really.
_ _

Nonetheless, Tove enunciated a wordless interjection, an *`'Mm.'`* Deeply and faintly echoing from the back of her throat. She tilted her head slightly as she leaned over the bar-counter, giving an angled nod so to demonstrate at least some faint acknowledgment toward Abstral's questions. As Abstral concluded, the tavernkeep finally shifted her head and gaze slightly upward and beyond the outsider, allowing a moment for the queries to settle before following up on them.

*"Under attack?* Probably."
"Not exactly every night that Emissary Cherei will pull back one of them horrifying arrows."
"The sound of those silver spears being loosed from the bowstring could almost be heard from the palace."

"So it's not surprising that the folk around here are a tad bit ruffled."
"A silver rain of arrows begins falling on the snowfield past the gate... And only, ahhh— twenty minutes, or so, later, the illusory barrier goes up..."
"Well, laymen like us, we can't imagine anything beyond the beginning of another war. Hell. Maybe there *Will* Be war."
*"Who's t' say."*

Tove gave a slight shrug, shifting her head to rest on her left arm which leaned against the bar counter. She breathed a punctuating exhale out, closing her eyes in a pause, before belatedly opening them again, staring off toward the darkness held at the corner of the tavern.

"As for me, I... Don't really care, one way or another."
"But also, I don't care to see the tavern razed."
"I suppose that's all there really is to it."
William
Abstral took in her responses, careful to not let his face betray his true intentions behind asking them. So the entire village could hear this "Cherei" Attacking them when they entered the Floor and then the barrier went up soon after. But the time discrepancy didn't make sense. It had been much longer than 20 minutes since they had all arrived up here.

So perhaps Tove was referring to her attacking the *Other* Outsiders.

Oh no.

He took in the rest of her words as well but they became less important as they didn't reveal much else that he needed to know. He had gotten nothing much resembling useful information out of this woman, so there was no point in staying here.

Still though, perhaps staying here DID have it's advantages, if this was a tavern, even despite the current circumstances, the other mercenaries might be drawn here. It was... Unlikely, he had to admit that, but still possible, and so he'd remain here at least a little longer.

```"Yes I do suppose that typically arrows raining down from the sky isn't exactly what you'd call a regular occurrence. In the case of war, are the people of this town capable of defending themselves? Surely if this Emissary is well-armed, then there are those who would, shall we say, "Violently" Oppose this town and it's way of life, is there not?" ```
Sarah
*"...Some."*

The tavernkeep spoke with a bit of a murmur, her glance still askance as she peered with a squinting glare beyond Abstral, and toward the door of the tavern. There was a hint of grumbling in her voice when she responded to his question on those who "Violently opposed the town", as though she harbored some sort of uncertainness while speaking on such a matter. 

*`Those who violently oppose this town, huh?`*—she thought. 

"If my memory—*Ha*—serves me correctly, mm."

A subtle and dry laugh interrupted her statement, as though she scoffed at the very idea. But Tove soon seemed to go into thought, closing her eyes as she folded her arms, softly and slowly pacing away from the bar counter. How many years had it been...? A long, long while, to be sure... Probably before she was even born. Well, before she *Knew* She was born, at least. *Ha,* Indeed. She hadn't any trouble remembering anything *After* Her childhood, but *During* It...?

"Well, far as I know, the Knights of Sol never fancied themselves to even acknowledge Second Floor's validity. Hated it to bits, they did. If anyone's an enemy to this Floor, it's gonna be them."
"There was the whole incident where the Eclipse Guardian assassinated one of the bearers of the Moon-Mother's blessing. The *Waxing Crescent,* I think—she was known to be real sweet. She was gone long before my time, but the Princess here still mourns her."
_ _

The barkeep spoke, now leaning on the wall shortly behind the bar counter, folding her arms as she narrated what even indefiniteness she knew. These matters, to the common person, was *Ancient history,* And especially to someone such as Tove, who never heard of such reports firsthand, or simply never lived long enough to experience the events in the first place; she knew not which of the two was true, but all that was relevant was which she could recall.

"Believe there were also skirmishes beyond the wall. The Solar Guardian lead his brass-bearing forces to the Second Floor, only to have them swiftly quelled by the Emissary herself. Not quite 's many accounts about that matter, though. All's they say is that *She didn't miss a single shot."* 

"Though all's the little guy like me knows is what I've picked up from vague hearsay."
"I'm better with today's woes than with yesterday's. You happen to hear more things about the present when you run a tavern. Not many historians come visit, really."
William
Abstral took in the information Tove gave in response to his inquiries.

Knights of Sol? Enemy to this entire Floor? Eclipse Guardian assassinating someone important and well-mourned by the royalty? Emissary Cherei fighting a being known as the Solar Guardian? 

While these answers were not the ones he had come here seeking nor did he fully understand any of it, they were intriguing to ponder nonetheless.

He'd ask no more questions, as he could sense that she began to be suspicious of him asking so many at once and he doubted she'd know anything about the other outsiders.

To be quite honest, he **Didn't know what to do now.** He could wait here further, hoping that somehow the other mercenaries discovered this place, or he could leave, hopefully discreetly, and try his luck somewhere else. 

Unless *Something happened soon*, he would likely chose the latter option.

He had waited quite awhile, sitting in the darkness before deciding that perhaps waiting for something to happen or one of the mercs to come to this place was not the best use of his time, or plan. He'd get nowhere and nothing done waiting around, their plan needed to continue and for that the mercenaries needed found.

He would think carefully about how to phrase what he'd ask Tove next, before suddenly speaking again.

```"So I've gotten the impression that outsiders aren't the most welcome around these parts, why is that? Have they aligned with the sovereignty's enemies in the past? If outsiders were to encroach upon the royal domain, how would they be treated? These Knights of Sol that you spoke of, are they from The Outside? I speak in terms of more than just this Floor, mind you."```
Sarah
*"Outsiders, mm."*

Tove paused, the desaturated hue of her irises averted in a prolonged pause. With her hands folded and rested in front of her legs, she relaxed herself in her lean, her head swinging back slightly as she continued to scour through the faded pages of her memory. And indeed, faded those pages were; it just so happened that Abstral's core curiosity was about things that preceded her era. Or, the era that she could remember. It was always a toss-up — what had happened before she was born, and what had happened before she ever knew she was born? Perhaps she wasn't born on the *Ark* In the first place. Perhaps she was one of the Moon-Mother's first servants. Perhaps—

*`... Well, that's besides the point ...`*

She exhaled in such fashion that one could almost call it an expression of humor, yet the general languid appearance that shrouded her visage concealed away such a figment of joy. Not one to linger long in idle thoughts, the tavern-keep's eyes slipped back, front-and-center, to the visitor before her.

"Outsiders have always been seen as... An omen. That's the best word we've got for that kinda thing."
"Maybe it's 'cause the people of the Ark are so accustomed to seeing the same old faces that, when something new shows up..."
"They're quick to scare, I guess," She shrugged. "And like wolves, they're quick to bite at what they fear."
"The unknown have always been thought of as an omen, by one and all."
"Even if you've no intention to harm, someone's going to want you gone," She spoke, as though having experienced such first-hand.

Now with her arms folded closely, and her hands pressed against opposite sides of her waist, the tavernkeeper stared with her blank and tired gaze toward the stranger before her, and squinted, quite subtly.

"...And you, what's it that you plan to do?"

*`... That's right ...`*
*`... An amnesiac?`*

"Do you plan to move forward? Like *The last.*"

For the first time, her brow raised.
William
Abstral took in her words as she gave him the answers to his, perhaps too pointed, questions.

*Ah, an aversion of an interruption to the status quo.*, he thought to himself as she explained the denizens of this domain's view of outsiders. Like him. He knew this feeling well as he and Shiro had showed up on many worlds as part of their training under their father, and of those worlds, many of their peoples' did not take too kindly to their presence.

Her last remark went on to further spark his curiosity, perhaps.

``"Hmm."``, he remarked simply, keeping his expression plain, his brow raised in turn as he prepared to ask yet another question. ``"The last, you say? To whom does that refer?" ``He knew this question was in turn dodging her question, slightly at least, but it was that last part he was the most interested in. Perhaps she referred to the other outsiders he was seeking, or perhaps not, in any case, more information would surely aid in his search.

And if she pressed the question about his intentions, he could always continue to lie.
Sarah
"The last man to enter the Second Floor, yes. Though he came much longer after the Guardians," She answered with little hesitation. "He was one of the only few to make it beyond the wall."

She spoke as though to expound, concise and clear, yet also like one who reminisced. With her dull-grey eyes that were made only more dull by the shadow of her hair, the keeper of the tavern kept a long stare on the visitor of the tavern opposite herself, her arms folded and her head tilted down so that her eyes had to be raised slightly to meet his gaze. Her voice was flat, monotone, and as dull-grey as her hair and eye. But now, the curl of her brow and the glint of her eyes demonstrated, for perhaps the first time, a vestige of emotion — a sense of wonder as she recollected, and a sense of genuine interest in the topic. 

"More impressively, he was of the only two people to make it beyond the gate of the Second Floor—oaths-be-damned, he made it beyond that gate. Almost a day of reckoning for the people of the village," She said, grinning lightly. "After all, we met him first. *I* Met him first. Those in the noble chateaus didn't have a clue."

"The news didn't spread quickly. But eventually we learned of his feat through a rather roundabout way."
"Before Tvoktei took it upon himself to isolate the Second Floor, we had a rare encounter with a diplomat from the Third Floor. He came with word that an inquisitor of the *Arue* Had made his descent to the Astrolabe several months prior in search of the man who had bypassed the Second Floor's gate."
_ _

"Most thought him dead, and thought the Floor better for it," She averted her gaze, "And I believed him a dead man, too."
"But when we heard he had defied all Tvoktei's men, and the Lunar Harem, and all the nobility so despised, we shared a moment of respect. And for some, regret, also, for how they let him be treated. There is really nothing more unifying here than hatred for nobility."
"An odd stranger, really. He was an omen, even in the end. Perhaps a good omen, perhaps bad. Perhaps he was supposed to bring change to the Floor, perhaps he simply came to fulfill his own desires. All in the same, he wanted to keep moving forward. And so he did."

Then in her conclusion, she again lowered her gaze, and with her arms folded, leaned her weight back against the wall, slack in her posture and placid in countenance. Still, she spoke, with lowered eyes:

"I wonder if it's that same common desire that continues brings people here," She mused. "A desire to keep moving forward. To keep moving *Up.*"
"Maybe it's not for those of this little village to know that desire. In the end, this village is only the little tarry along the road."
"Right... Again —"
"— what is it that you plan to do?"
William
Abstral was a bit surprised that Tove let him dodge the question with yet another of his own, yet continued to listen intently as she answered it. Speaking of the last man to enter this "Second Floor", that he was one of two to make it beyond its gates, and was then presumed dead by the folk who were both in awe and mourning of him. She spoke of terms to do with this Floor, both familiar and unfamiliar to his ears. That there was a Third Floor didn't surprise him, this place did look deceptively small from the outside only to *Greatly* Open up on the inside.

But then, ah yes, she *Hadn't* Let him dodge the question after all, as she had asked him again.

Abstral had decided he had dwelled here long enough, all the information Tove gave him, while insightful, was hardly all that useful to his task of finding the other bounty hunters who arrived with them on this floor.

He wondered how the bandit, Kuouo, and the Knight, Taash, in their endeavors. He should be going now, so that he too could be useful to their quest.

`` "Well,"`` He began, 

`` "I suppose I too shall "Move forward" At last. I mean not to burden you any longer nor draw to you any unwanted attention. I am, after all, a stranger who had wandered upon your doorstep. Of my path forward, you need not concern over my fate, either I shall meet my end or I won't. Thank you for your patience with answering my numerous questions and for your words of warnings and insight, but I shall take my leave now. Farewell. " ``

He would carefully put up the hood of his robes and turn back towards the doorway. He would not walk slowly but he would not leave quickly either, in the case that Tove had parting words for him.