Night and day passed on the caravan's journey. Magnus' prayers for a merciful trip apparently did not go unheeded, as nothing followed the previous day's frankly exhausting sequence of events. Magnus tried to keep awake throughout the duration of their travels to steer the carriage, but in the darkest reaches of the night, he started to nod off and was convinced to swap places with his father. He slept, sitting on the floor of the passenger area with his travel cloak wrapped around his shoulders. Not the comfiest way to sleep, but in other expeditions, he'd had worse. At least it wasn't rock this time.<br/><br/>Aside from the necessary stops to get Agro a bit of food, water, and rest, the journey went without hindrance. Dawn had broken by the time they reached the capital of Falone, the sun's warm rays washing over the hills and trees. A chill hung low in the air, and clouds high in the distance to the north. Signs of the coming winter. The morning was nonetheless a gorgeous one, the river washing beneath the city entrance's grand bridge sparkling with light. Birds sang their songs, greeting the sun and bidding farewell to the stars, and the hustle and bustle of stableworkers echoed from the gate.<br/><br/>Falone itself was a gorgeous place. A far cry from the humble architecture of Goldenburgh, Falone's walls towered above the average Teryn. Sleek grey stone rose in columns, filled in to make reverse arches atop the wall. Within them, multiple levels of buildings and raised arched walkways created paths on and above the ground, balconies adorned with gorgeous hanging vines and flowers that sprouted from them. The natural roads of the countryside were overtaken by cobblestone, and a twisting road leading up a hill in the town's southernmost district led to the castle. Falone was a magnitude larger than surrounding villages and towns, a true city and stronghold meant to protect its inhabitants and royalty.<br/><br/>Avis' declaration of their arrival, as well as the resulting movement from her stylish dismount of the vehicle, made Magnus stir. His eyes slowly fluttered open, and with a long inhale of cold morning air, he arched his back and stretched his limbs out. He exhaled a deeply drawn breath, and instead of walking out of the carriage, he scooted along the floor of it and let himself slip out of the end, landing on his feet with minimal effort. While by no means not a morning person, those few moments of half-wakefulness everyone went through took a bit of time to get used to.<br/><br/>Magnus placed both hands on his cheeks, and with closed eyes, ran them up over his face with a sigh. Gods willing, he was going to get a more comfortable carriage one day. With everyone out of the horse-drawn vehicle, Magnus turned to watch as his father led the vehicle towards the stables. Agro deserved a good rest after his hard work, and they needed<span style="font-style: italic">somewhere</span>to keep the thing while in the city.<br/><br/>As he turned towards the grand gate, he smiled a little. He'd been to Falone quite a few times in the past, and always enjoyed his stays, whether they were for business or pleasure. The town had a damned good smithy that he was in good standing with, quite a variety of restaurants of both Teryn and Alftari ownership, and best of all, a gorgeous indoor nemeton for worship. He envied the place, really. The skylight, the ages-old oak, and the quality of their bards was a blessing compared to his hometown's old, backwater temple. More than a few times, he'd stepped in to cover for the less skilled flute players back home.<br/><br/>Unfortunately, nostalgic thoughts were cut short by urgency. A pair of shouts, first from Ardur and then from Atisha, broke his dreamy state of mind and dragged him back into the moment. His eyes widened, brows raised, and lips parted slightly as he took in the sights, processing things quite a bit faster now. As his gaze came upon Anora and Ardur, the former being carried, his mind immediately thought of the wound he'd found upon her the previous day. His miracles had evidently not been enough, and after a moment of cursing himself for not being effective the first time around, he immediately dashed over to the others, a hand leading itself to his talisman.<br/><br/>As he ran, he preemptively called upon the holy energy he often tapped into. A white-gold glow shone beneath his open palm, forming itself into the shape of a small orb. He kept it prepared, and once he was closer, drew out more power into his other hand. "What happened?" He asked, speaking urgently but without panic. Even before being given an answer, he readied his miracle, prepared to offer at least a small amount of divine intervention. He moved his hands through similar patterns to the ones used the previous day, forming the light he held into a single, larger shape that gave off a radiating and comforting warmth.<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>Waiting silently, Tarkus watched the attendant as she dealt with Vasma. He also caught the implication, frowning rather deeply at it. He could write just fine, but with the pens provided, perhaps less so. Teryn constructs were so annoyingly small in his hands. At the mention of the price, an unamused grunt escaped the Jotun. It hardly sounded like a good deal, but then again, he still wasn't entirely sure about exchange rates. A golden ducat might have drawn attention in the midlands, but back home, people valued beads more than weak metal. Assuming, of course, one was at a traditional establishment that wasn't in the north. People tended to be less willing to act as merchants in the frozen wastes.<br/><br/>Before going to the room, he gave the inn's clientele a firm gaze. Some stares broke, but others remained, whether out of worry that some berserk giant was about to tear down walls or more innocent curiosity. He could not blame the latter, as his people were hardly an everyday sight this far south, but the former brought out all sorts of scorn. The Jotun reputation as violent savages was one that was hard-pressed to fade, given the brutality of the north and the sheer force needed to survive in it, as well as past aggressions. But damn it all, did he hate ignorant fools treating him no better than the beasts that wandered out of his home.<br/><br/>Once he felt more sure that none of the building's inhabitants were about to start anything, he followed Vasma toward the rooms, ducking his head to look into it. He considered the decor of it, and while not anything that stood out, it was hardly unpleasant. "Quaint," He spoke, giving the smallest approving nod. "But the window worries me. We should make sure they are safe."<br/><br/>Tarkus hardly expected any assassins would stop by in the middle of the night, but in this building, he wanted to take every precaution. He could hardly move, let alone swing his blade, without destroying everything in its path. Being caught unaware could be potentially disastrous.