"Five silvers for your own room, two silvers for the common area. You'd have to talk to the landlord about space in the henhouse, and to whatever lady you wish to room with about how to split the bill." The tavern wench sounds friendly enough, if a little harried - people /would/ space themselves out. As she mentions the landlord, she gestures to a grey-haired, well-dressed man standing behind the bar and handling the pouring of libations.<br/><br/>At the table of the mercenaries, the conversation is getting a little louder. Shreds and bits of sentences float through the inn, mention of places like Blackgaard and Castle Dire, betrayal, and a growing restiveness of the neighbours to the west, both Solamnic and foreign.<br/><br/>At Lorraine's table, the conversation is quieter, centering largely around organizing a major caravan trek - not just connecting seaside towns with the hinterlands, but opening a non-naval transport route linking Palanthas on one side and Caergoth on the other side, and passing through or having possible connections to, all of Solamnia's provinces.