Hours passed, the shadows around the town vanishing as the sun reached its apex in the sky... and the tin-can knight still sat in her place, unmoving. Anything that could possibly be gleamed from investigating the tavern has been ascertained. The circumference and density of the mugs that the establishment uses, the rate of patrons entering and exiting per hour, the approximate age of the wood that her table is composed of... every minute thing that she could possibly conceive, she calculated. Which, after this long passage of time, made Sigrun realize that her employer was taking a very long time to peruse a village. It mattered little however, as a paragon of patience, if she had already wasted 4-5 hours sitting in a chair, what harm is another 10?<br/><br/>It was then that the lavender lass noticed the scrawny pair from earlier. It seemed the slaver was feeding her servant a daily supply of rations before grabbing a leatherbound book near the counter; shortly after flashing her parchment to the boy.<span style="color: #BF00FF"><span style="font-style: italic">What could she have wrote in that ledger?</span></span>pondered Sigrun.<span style="color: #BF00FF"><span style="font-style: italic">Perhaps now she's volunteering herself into servitude? Then the boy would be her slave and she would be...</span></span>her arms crossed each other repeatedly as she tried to sort out her internal dilemma.<br/><br/>The thoughts that plagued her mind, and with that, the knight couldn't leave the tavern without an answer. The loud thunderous sound of metal scraping metal echoed through the inn, along with the screeching of the wooden chair scooting back. The suit of armor shuffled through the booths and eventually made her way to the two people in question.<br/><br/>Her voice, in her usual, monotone, blunt fashion, questioned the two, "So which one of you two is the slave and the slave-owner? I can't quite find out which. Also, what became of the Ahketan slave trader? Don't you have to go through him first?"