-The morning before-<br/><br/>"Ugghhhhhhhhh" As with every morning Fritz dragged himself out of the fog of sleep half mentally yelling at himself to wake his lazy arse up, and half actually digging his fingers into his matress and sheets to actually physically drag himself out of bed. And as happened every morning he spent in a actual bed he fell from his soft matress onto the hard wooden floor with an loud dull *thud*.<br/><br/>"God be damned for making mornings.....damnit thats another hour in the confessors box." Gathering what little wits were available to him this early in the morning he took stock of his surroundings. The room that he rented was much the same as any other room he had stayed at while in the countryside: quaint, plain, and suprisingly well kept. It's walls were made from a brownish grey wood. There was his bed with its plain white sheets and pillows and matress stuffed with straw, next to it was a small wooden thing that could easily double as either a stool or a very small table. Elsewhere in the room was a empty shelf, a chest at the foot of the bed, and a proper table situated in the center of the room. From the windows Fritz could see the familiar purple, orange, and red washed sky that signified the beginning of dawn. He was slipping normally he wouldn't allow himself to sleep in so "late" into the day.<br/><br/>Exiting the room he threw his arms out in wild arcs to awaken them as well, and was pleased with the heat of warm blood rushing into his limbs as he made way to the Inn's baths. Preparing a bath was one of the first duties taught to the young Fritz during his trainee days, so he had little trouble stoking the fire beneath the copper tub, or in draining the tub, scrubbing it out, and in refilling it with the relatively clean water the inn provided for baths. Stripping down uncermoniously he took his bath. To him cleaning wasn't something to be enjoyed or savored, it was simply another chore to get out of the way so his baths tended to be quick, but thorough affairs that left his skin scrubbed almost to the point of rawness. With that out of the way he left the inn and began his day.<br/><br/>It was simple day, he tended to Pfeffer, listened in on village hearsay and gossip which proved to be quite interesting unlike most "witches" this Cytheria had as many of the commonfolk praising her as there were ones who were out for her blood. This wasn't neccasarily a good thing though he had encountered villages where some of the village folk had been charmed by a local witch. This was how he spent most of the day unobstrusively listening in on conversation. Until he met with the shoe maker's son the weasel seemed almost desperat to show him something.<br/><br/>"What is it now?" Fritz said in a tired  voice.