"Don't even think it."<br/><br/>The greasy-haired youth quickly withdrew his hand from the well-dressed newcomer gentleman's belt, scuttling off into the shadows and smugly congratulating himself concerning his talent for escaping potentially lethal situations while still retaining both possession and use of all his fingers. Still eying his would-be mark, the pickpocket wondered why, in the early hours of the morning, someone who held about him the air of a nobleman or person of high status should be wandering about the dark road that led to Billian's Rest, to say nothing of the disreputable quality of the town in itself. The youth suspected that the traveler would venture down the shadowed streets that still bustled with various levels of activity, even for this time of night. And that a hand more competent than his own would silence him before he ever reached his destination.<br/>Elandris was unconcerned. If he were threatened or accosted by any manner of street ruffian, he was confident of his ability to dispose of the transgressor in both an efficient and exemplary manner that would leave no doubt in the minds of any witnesses that this particular target was simply not worth the trouble and effort. But violence was unnecessary. As he passed through the rough-hewn streets of Billian's Rest, he was given a wide berth and left largely to his own devices, save for a narrow encounter with a large man carrying a barrel of ale("Whoops! Sorry mate!").<br/>Elandris was tempted to immediately begin asking about for a man who could translate the Orcish scripture he possessed, but decided against the notion due to the fact that any man who could read it was most likely asleep and would not appreciate being awoken in the early hours of the morning for something that could possibly be the Orcish equivelant of a grocery list. Had he been Imperial police, Elandris would have simply kicked the man's door down and demanded an immediate translation, but due to the fact that he existed only in the minds of two top-ranking Imperial Chamber of War officials, the only logical outcome would be a long prison sentence for assault and impersonation of Imperial law enforcement.<br/>Not trusting the dark corners of the town to conceal his resting body, Elandris decided to seek the rare comfort of a local inn where he could wash his mud-splattered clothing and sleep for a few hours with both eyes fully closed. A questioned local obligingly pointed him in the direction of the Boar's Rest and informed him that it was one of the few travelers' lodgings that didn't require one to sleep with one's wallet under one's pillow. Elandris thanked the man and followed the outstretched finger, across the street and into the plain but clean-looking tavern. A somber, strong-muscled horse eyed him distrustfully as he passed by, but returned its attention to the water-trough in front of it as his disinterest in stealing it became apparent.<br/>Elandris removed his hat in an automatic gesture of politeness as he entered the room and caught the first whiff of pipe-smoke that spiraled about the interior of the cozily-heated tavern. A man slumbered quietly on a wooden table, a tankard serving as his makeshift pillow, and another was searching under the table in an attempt to find his shoes, preparatory of going home to his wife and children. The only others awake and present were a tired-looking nobleman and the serving-girl who attended him, as well as a bearded fellow behind the counter.<br/>Elandris unbuttoned his coat and let it drape loosely about his shoulders, crossing the empty dining area to the bar, where he took a seat on a tall stool and comfortably rested his elbows on the counter.<br/>"A bit late," observed the old man.<br/>"Too late for a drink?"<br/>"Never."<br/>As the barman passed him a mug of cold, frothing ale, Elandris glanced over his shoulder at the other man.<br/>"Often get latecomers?"<br/>The other man shrugged. "Most people don't set foot outside this time o'night; they don't wanna get theirselves robbed."<br/>Elandris took a swig of ale, feeling the cool alcohol slide down his sun-parched throat. "There been any raids on Billian's Rest lately?"<br/>"Naw. This is the best-armed place in the Southern Reaches. There're plenty of other places f'r Orcs t'hit in Dale. This ain't really one."<br/>Elandris nodded speculatively. "I took down a scout on the way."<br/>He reached into a pouch and withdrew the folded parchment. "He was carrying this."<br/>The bartender leaned closer and squinted at it, rustling it into its full size. He then felt about under the counter and produced a pair of spectacles, balancing them precariously on his nose and taking another look. "Inneresting."<br/>"Aye?"<br/>"This 'ere ain't a message," the old man informed him. "It be a map."<br/>Elandris hadn't even intended to begin searching for a translation until the next morning. The fact that this man was capable of perhaps deciphering it caused the Warden to sit straighter and forget his fatigue. Taking another gulp from his ale mug, he scrutinized the paper. "Map of what?"<br/>"Good question." The other man seemed puzzled. "Look like the Southern Forests."<br/>"The Orcs are all over the Southern Forests," Elandris said. "Why would they need a map?"<br/>"Mebbe this ain't a - naw," the old man corrected himself. "This is drew like their."<br/>He looked up at Elandris, sliding the spectacles off his nose and pocketing them. "Min' if I take an' lookit this tonight? I'll give it t'you tomorror mornin'."<br/>Elandris nodded. "Fair indeed."<br/>Looking about the silent tavern, he shrugged. "Might I hire a room for the night?"<br/>"With're without company?"<br/>"Without."<br/>"Aye." The old man passed him a worn but bright key and pointed to the stairs. "Third on the left."<br/>Elandris thanked him, remaining at the bar and pensively sipping his drink.<br/>He was accustomed to silence, was in truth really only comfortable in places where the noise dropped away and he was left only with the echo of his own thoughts, where every exterior sound shattered the world like a rock thrown through a stained-glass window, disrupting the clarity of the picture that calmly weathered storms and suns alike, and sending shards of broken glass to the floor in a cascade of liquid color. The silence was good.<br/>And it was why Elandris was always alone.